aFireFist
A Life in DC
Chapter 10 - Part 1
Vieri barely made it through the front door before the exhaustion hit him like a truck. His shoulders ached, his arms burned from the scratches Ivy's vines had left, and his legs felt heavy as hell. The sky outside was just starting to lighten, weak gray light creeping over the skeletal trees in his yard. It painted the living room in that dull Gotham morning haze — the kind that never really felt like sunrise.
He kicked off his boots by the door, wincing as the movement pulled at the fresh scratches on his forearms. The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. He locked the deadbolt, dropped his vest on the chair by the table, and headed straight for the bedroom. His wrinkled shirt smelled like sex, jasmine, and sweat. He didn't even bother turning on more lights.
Selina was already there, exactly where he'd left her earlier. She sat up in his bed as he walked in, the sheet pooled loosely around her waist. Completely naked. The soft morning light caught every smooth line of her body — her firm tits with those dark nipples still slightly stiff from the cool air, the tight dip of her waist flaring out into strong, toned hips. Her dark hair was a messy tangle falling over one shoulder, and there were faint marks on her neck and chest from the night before.
She looked at him and took everything in: the wrinkled shirt, the red scratches on his neck from Harley's nails, the way he still carried that heavy scent of sex and jasmine. For once, her usual sharp, predatory smirk softened into something gentler. Almost vulnerable.
"Come here," she said quietly, patting the bed beside her.
Vieri didn't argue. He dropped the rest of his clothes on the floor and crawled onto the mattress. Selina reached for him immediately, her hands surprisingly soft as she cupped his scratched-up face and pulled him down. She kissed him slow and deep, nothing like the frantic hunger from the raid. Her tongue moved lazily against his, tasting him like she wanted to memorize every second. When she finally broke the kiss, she kept her forehead pressed to his, legs sliding up to wrap comfortably around his waist.
"You handled all three of us," she murmured, voice low and warm against his mouth. Her fingers traced lightly over the marks on his neck. "My flatfoot. You look like you went ten rounds and still came out on top."
Vieri let out a tired chuckle, his hands resting on her hips. "Felt like more than ten. You three don't exactly play nice with each other."
Selina smiled faintly and reached down between them. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him with slow, lazy pulls. There was no rush this time. She worked him until he started to harden again in her hand, thick and heavy. Vieri shifted, lining himself up, and slid into her easily. She was still slick and warm from earlier, her pussy welcoming him with a soft, wet squeeze.
They moved together in a slow, steady rhythm. Selina's hips rolled up to meet every thrust, her legs locked tight around his back. Her breath hitched every time he bottomed out deep inside her, but she kept it quiet, almost tender. One of her hands stayed in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, while the other ran down his back.
"Fuck… you feel good," she whispered, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him. "Slow like this. I like it."
Vieri buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as he thrust deeper. The wet, intimate sounds of their bodies meeting filled the quiet bedroom — soft, slick noises with every roll of her hips. Selina's firm tits pressed warmly against his chest, her hard nipples dragging against his skin. He could feel every little flutter of her pussy around him.
After a few minutes, Selina's breathing picked up. She held him tighter, legs squeezing around his waist. "Right there… don't stop," she breathed. Her body tensed, then shuddered softly as she came — a quiet, rolling orgasm that made her pussy flutter gently around his cock. She sighed against his ear, nails digging lightly into his back.
Vieri followed right after, groaning low as he pumped one last heavy load deep inside her. They stayed connected like that for a long while, breathing hard, his face still tucked against her neck.
Selina stroked his back gently, her touch surprisingly affectionate. After a minute, she spoke again, voice quieter this time. "We're getting sloppy because of you, Vieri. All three of us."
He lifted his head to look at her, still buried inside her. "What do you mean?"
Selina sighed, running her fingers through his messy hair. "Harley can't shut up about it. She's been showing that damn car video to half the street contacts she trusts. Bragging about how she called you Daddy the whole time and made you cum down her throat. It's only a matter of time before word gets back to the wrong people. Ivy's even worse — her plants are popping up in random spots all over the East End. She says it's for 'recon,' but I know she's using them to track your patrol routes. And me…" She let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. "I almost got caught twice last week because I was daydreaming about coming here instead of watching my back on a job. Our operations were already shaky. This rivalry between us is making everything worse. Harley's too loud, Ivy's getting obsessive, and I'm distracted as hell. It's only a matter of time before it bites us in the ass."
Vieri stayed quiet for a moment, processing. Selina kissed him again, slower and deeper this time. Then she rolled them over so she was on top. She started riding him lazily, hands braced on his chest, her firm tits swaying gently with the motion of her hips.
"Just… be careful," she said between soft moans, grinding down on him. "We're not used to wanting someone this much. It's throwing all of us off."
She picked up the pace a little, rolling her hips harder, her pussy gripping him tight with every downward slide. Vieri reached up and grabbed her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks as he thrust up to meet her. Her breathing got heavier, tits bouncing more noticeably now. She leaned forward, dark hair falling around them like a curtain.
"Fuck, Vieri…" she gasped. Another orgasm hit her — quiet but intense. Her pussy clenched around him as she shuddered on top of him. Vieri held her hips down and filled her one more time, pumping deep with a low groan.
Selina collapsed onto his chest, kissing his neck softly, her body still trembling a little. They stayed like that for a few minutes, catching their breath.
"I should go before the others show up," she finally whispered. "They're probably already fighting over who gets you tonight."
She gave him one last slow kiss, then slipped off the bed. Vieri watched as she pulled on her catsuit, the black leather hugging every curve of her body. She zipped it up, gave him one last almost fond look over her shoulder, and disappeared out the window without another word.
Vieri lay there staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, the faint morning light growing brighter through the blinds. Then he forced himself up with a groan. "Shower. Coffee. Precinct. Normal cop shit," he muttered to himself.
He headed to the bathroom. The hot water felt like heaven on his sore muscles. He was halfway through washing when the curtain pulled back and Selina stepped in behind him, still naked.
"Couldn't leave yet," she said with a small smirk, pressing her wet body against his back. They showered together, slow and lazy. She soaped up his chest and back, her hands lingering on the scratches. Vieri returned the favor, running soapy hands over her firm tits and tight ass. They didn't fuck again — just touched, kissed under the spray, and enjoyed the quiet moment.
After drying off, they moved to the kitchen. Selina sat at the small table in one of his old t-shirts while Vieri made coffee and scrambled some eggs with toast. The domesticity felt strange but nice.
The small TV on the counter was playing the morning news. The anchor's voice filled the kitchen:
"…ongoing gang wars between the Falcone Crime Family and rival factions continue to escalate in the East End. Multiple shootings reported overnight, with at least four confirmed deaths…"
Selina sipped her coffee, legs crossed. "Falcones are getting bold again."
Then the segment shifted.
"In other news, GCPD's new task force conducted a major raid last night on a suspected hideout used by the so-called Queens of Crime — Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn. While the three criminals escaped, sources say the operation successfully disrupted their operations and seized a key location."
The screen cut to Renee Montoya standing outside the Kane Street building, looking composed in her work clothes. "Although we weren't able to capture the Queens of Crime this time, we were able to take their hideout and significantly disrupt their operations. This is a clear message that we're coming for them. The task force will continue to apply pressure."
Selina snorted softly. "She sounds confident."
Vieri leaned against the counter, drinking his coffee and watching the report. He thought about what waited for him back at the precinct — the questions, the looks, Internal Affairs probably sniffing around. Montoya and Sawyer. The mess he'd have to navigate.
He took another sip, mind turning. I should talk to all the Queens soon. Tone their operations down. Make it look like the task force is actually getting to them. Enough pressure that they decide to lay low for a while. Win for the task force on paper… and a win for them because they still get me.
The idea was ridiculous, but it made a weird kind of sense in his fucked-up life.
Selina finished her eggs, stood up, and kissed his cheek. "Try not to get killed today, flatfoot."
She slipped out the back door this time. Vieri stayed at the counter, refilling his coffee, watching the news continue to play, and wondering how much longer this balancing act could last.
***
Back at the precinct, things were anything but normal.
The bullpen was its usual mess of ringing phones, shouted conversations, and the constant clack of keyboards, but today there was a sharp edge underneath all the noise. Officers moved a little slower, voices a little lower. A couple of guys from last night's raid were still sitting at their desks with glassy eyes, nursing coffee like it was medicine. One kept rubbing his temples like he had the world's worst hangover.
Internal Affairs had already rolled through once that morning like vultures. Suits, clipboards, and that fake-polite tone that really meant "we're looking for someone to hang this fuckup on." They'd asked pointed questions about the Kane Street raid — why the Queens got away clean, why half the team was stumbling around like they'd been roofied, and why the whole operation looked like amateur hour. "Pollen exposure" only went so far when half the responding officers couldn't even remember their own names for twenty minutes.
Vieri sat at his desk finishing up the last of the paperwork, keeping his head down. His shirt still smelled faintly like sex and jasmine no matter how many times he'd changed. The scratches on his arms were hidden under long sleeves, but he could feel every one of them.
Renee Montoya walked up to his desk with purpose. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, the white button-down stretched nicely across her full C-cup tits. The dark slacks hugged her solid hips and the firm, rounded shape of her runner's ass. She looked every bit the professional detective, but there was a faint flush on her olive cheeks and she stood a little closer than usual.
"Vieri," she said, voice low. "My office. Now."
He nodded and followed her across the bullpen. A few heads turned, but nobody said anything. They all knew the raid had been a disaster.
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