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“No, Jared, if I wanted to see an exact repeat of the story currently headlining the Opal City Times, I’d have renewed my subscription.” Kara sighed, sliding the article soaked through with red ink back down the table to him with a bit more force than she’d intended. With a a deep breath in through her nose, Kara tried to remember that when she’d been promoted she made a vow not to become a Perry 2.0 with his volatile temper and too frequently crabby demeanor. She had no desire to be an asshole without a cause, even if, more and more, she was realizing there often was a cause. “Look. Just because we’re both covering the same story doesn’t mean you have to write the same article. Think about what unique perspective you can bring to the story. Who can you interview? What new facts can you add?”

“Okay, yes, will do, Ms. Zorel.”

The rest of the afternoon editorial meeting passed by in a blur, and by the time it was over the sun had sunk below the horizon, and Kara could feel the steady thrum of a headache pulsing behind her eyes—none of which made her more excited about her one-on-one with Perry to explain why it was that Opal City had managed to provide more timely coverage than the Daily Planet for the takedown of a ring of Metropolis-based kidnappers whose headquarters had been found stocked to the hilt with alien technology.

After nearly half an hour of listening to Perry ranting about low sales numbers and pinching pennies and a bad economy for print media, especially for print media that couldn’t even provide the best coverage of local stories, Kara glanced down at her watch with a bit less subtlety than was, perhaps, advisable—especially after Perry’s morning meeting with their accountants.

“Did you have somewhere better to be, Kara?”

“No, I just—”

“Just because you were a phenomenal reporter does not make you indispensable to this paper as an editor.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Kara glared. “One bad week thanks to some wet-behind-the-ears reporter who, don’t think I didn’t notice, shares the same last name as our dear old CFO, does not make me bad at my job, and you know it.”

“Fine,” Perry sighed, raising a placating hand before moving it back to his face to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “But you can’t deny, we’re in a recession. Like it or not, we’re going to be cutting staff, and mistakes like these will catch the notice of the board.”

“I get it. Jared is working on it. We’ll get something out that’s far more in-depth than the piece the Times did—show everyone that there were good reasons for the delay.”

“I’m gonna level with you. I’m not sure if that’s enough these days. We need big splashy headlines. Things that make our papers fly off the shelves.”

“What about an exclusive with Medusa?” Kara blurted out, cursing herself the moment she said it. Just because she’d gotten their notoriously cagey local vigilante hero to give a few quotes hardly guaranteed her an interview.

“You can do that, Zorel?”

“I, um, she’s spoken to me before on record.”

“You do that, and I can guarantee your job is safe, and the Daily Planet lives to see another day.”

“I’ll try, sir.”

Of course, the moment Kara left Perry’s office the reality of what she’d promised came crashing down all around her. Sure, Medusa was easy enough to get on film. She damn near posed for the cameras, and Kara still had a shot she’d never handed over to the Daily Planet of Medusa winking and blowing a kiss at her before taking off into the night. But when it came to giving quotes outside of a sassy snippet or two, reporters lined up only to fail again and again. Hell, even Lois Lane, who Kara had been certain would be the one to finally pull it off, had been laughed at when she tried.

That being said, none of the other reporters had managed a few of the things Kara had…

Kara strode down the quiet hallways, the office down to its skeleton crew and most of them off chasing down leads pulled from crackling updates on the police scanners to try to claim first report on any breaking stories. She couldn’t quite quell the anticipation that bubbled up inside of her as she unlocked her office door, hoping that a certain vigilante might have made good on Kara’s offer to come visit her at work whenever the mood struck. Sure, it had only happened a few times over the months, and the woman seemed to show up more for company than for conversation, but she clung to the hope to get her through the worst days. After all, it’d been two weeks since Medusa actually engaged her in conversation—never answering her questions, but talking nonetheless—a conversation that had somehow led to a shared drink, which had ended with Kara perched on the edge of her desk, legs wrapped around Medusa’s waist and Medusa’s lips hungrily seeking out her own. She could be excused for a bit of eagerness each night she stayed late at the office.

When Kara swung open the door, however, she found the room empty and tried to push away her disappointment. After all, one kiss—even a kiss like that—did not a relationship make. For all she knew, the kiss was a months overdue thank you for Kara’s help in getting Medusa to safety and washing and wrapping up the deep gash on her thigh after finding the local vigilante hunched over and barely conscious late at night on her way home from the office.

---

Two nights later, Kara found herself alone in her office at 10 on a Saturday night, making the final corrections to get to Perry for the first printing of their Sunday morning edition. She’d already sent her regrets to the friends she was supposed to meet for drinks; a part of her wondered how much longer they’d give her before they stopped inviting her altogether. As a reporter, her hours may have been unpredictable, but these days, there was almost a very predictable guarantee that they’d be long.

With one final shift to the arrangement of their page 3 stories, Kara saved her work and pulled herself up and out of her chair to go see Perry for a final check in. Maybe she’d even be home in time to fall asleep in front of SNL for a change…

The walk back to her office felt shorter, her steps lighter. She was going home. 10:30pm before a weekend edition, and she was actually done.

As distracted as she was by thoughts of comfortable sweatpants and a glass of wine on the sofa, Kara didn’t notice the extra presence in her office until she’d already leaned over to pack her bag, humming happily under her breath.

The quiet click of the door shutting behind her left her spine stiffening as her fingers curled around the mace she still kept in her bag from the years she spent covering the crime beat.

“You’re welcome to try, but it won’t do anything,” came a voice that had Kara tripping over her feet in her hurry to spin around.

“Medusa!”

The woman’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “That’s what you insist on calling me.”

“If there’s a name you’d prefer…”

A silvery laugh answered her question. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Deciding honesty was her best bet, Kara nodded. “I would. I’d like to know a lot of things about you.”

“And why is that?” The woman stalked along the perimeter of Kara’s office. “What has you so curious?”

“Let me do an exclusive on you.” The words rushed out in a single breath. “Show the people of Metropolis that you’re no villain to be feared.”

Medusa froze, turning slowly to regard Kara head on. “Yes,” she drawled. “Because your office did such a good job naming me after a mythical monster. Now if it’s just an interview you’re after, I’ll see myself out.”

“Wait!” Medusa was already halfway out Kara’s window, but her movements stilled long enough that Kara pushed on. “Did you know that, um, Medusa—her name derives from the ancient Greek μέδω?”

“Believe it or not, my first instinct wasn’t to pull up the etymology.” She sounded annoyed, but she’d also pulled her head back to Kara’s side of the window, which Kara took as a victory.

“Yeah, well, the closest modern translation is ‘to protect.’ Well, sometimes also ‘rule over,’ but mainly ‘protect.’ And that’s what you do for this city, Medusa, whether the people recognize it or not.”

“So the name had nothing to do with my ability to hold people in place with a single glance?”

Kara rubbed at the back of her neck. “That might have played a role in it…”

“That’s what I thought.”

I didn’t name you.”

“No, no. You just wrote the first scathing opinion piece about my inability to do right by the city.”

An incredulous bark of laughter rang through the office. “You froze four cops who were trying to arrest a suspect.”

“Did they or did they not turn out to be corrupt?”

“Only two of them. And the suspect got away!”

Medusa flicked her wrist, her fingers waving through the air. “I caught him the next night without any of those dirty cops there to tamper with the evidence.”

“And maybe if you’d gone on record about your plans, you wouldn’t have had half of the MPD chasing after you for months.”

“I don’t do teamwork.”

Kara dared to take a single step closer. Then another. “Having someone there for you isn’t all that bad.” Her gaze fell to Medusa’s thigh, while her thoughts pulled back to that night when she’d been sure that Medusa might not live to fight another day. There had been so much blood. No one should be able to lose that much blood and live.

“What? Do you want some sort of payment? I’ll buy you fresh gauze and toss in a few hundred. I won’t have you walking around thinking I owe you something.”

“That’s not it at all!”

Medusa gave a haughty little sniff. “Here I thought you might be different.”

“Is that why you kissed me?” Resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands took almost all of Kara’s effort, but she’d said it, and there was no denying how very curious she’d been ever since that night.

Medusa’s eyes seemed to darken as her mouth curled up into a smirk that made Kara’s heart race. “Been thinking a lot about that, have you?”

“No.”

“Oh really?”

Kara cleared her throat and stood her ground.

“I don’t believe you.” Medusa pulled herself back into the office, stalking towards Kara, who felt every bit the part of Medusa’s prey—admittedly, a very willing prey. “In fact, I think you’ve thought about it daily. Or perhaps the better word would be nightly.” Kara felt her cheeks flush as images from a few particularly vivid dreams—and, okay, yes, maybe waking fantasies as well—flashed through her mind. Medusa’s laugh filled the room. “I thought so.”

“And what about you, hmm? Do you make a habit of kissing random reporters, or was I special?”

The answering smile flashed a row of pearly whites. “What if I gave you a choice: an interview with me or continuing where we left off?”

Kara’s brain waged a war with her body as she debated the respective merits of each. Secure her job and ensure a decent number of sales for the Daily Planet and get some of her burning questions answered. Or feel those impossibly soft lips pressed against hers again, the strong fingers that had curled around her hips, pulling her forward and promising something more. But no. No, there were things more important than her libido. “The interview,” she forced herself to say.

“Pity.” Something that looked like genuine regret flashed across Medusa’s features. “Turns out I was only really willing to offer one of those things.” And then she was off, a flash of skintight black leather disappearing through Kara’s office window.

Kara groaned loudly, letting her head fall to the desk with a thump. From somewhere out in the night, she swore she heard a cackling laugh.

---

Exactly five days later, Kara returned home from work, takeout from her favorite Chinese restaurant clutched in her hands to make up for having to sit through the excruciating quarterly all-staff meeting.

A voice tsked from behind her. ““So much sodium.”

“What the fuck!”

Medusa slipped out of the shadows, leaning her hip against Kara’s kitchen counter. “You have a nice figure. Be a shame to see it ruined with food like that.”

“It—it’s a once in a while indulgence. Also screw you.”

“And here I thought you preferred the interview.”

Kara cursed her body as she felt a blush creeping up her chest and across her cheeks. “How did you even know where I lived, let alone get in?”

With a shrug, Medusa gestured at the open window. Not that Kara had ever really considered leaving a window unlocked on the fourteenth floor a security risk.

“And my address?”

“Quick peek into a file.”

“So you know my full name. Where I work. Where I live. What my full face looks like. And yet I don’t know a thing about you.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know.” Kara threw up her hands, giving up on the quiet night alone she’d planned with her takeout.

“Did you or did you not ask me for an interview?”

“I did… But did you or did you not run out on me?”

“I’ve decided there might be a way to do this that could be beneficial to me.”

Kara narrowed her eyes. “And what does that entail?”

Medusa simply hummed under her breath. “I only answer the questions I want to answer.”

“Fine. That’s standard enough for interview protocol.”

And I get to ask a question of you for every one I answer.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Kara nodded. “Deal.” It wasn’t as if she had anything particularly dark lurking in her closet. “You okay if I record it?” A wave of a hand was all the answer she got, which she took as a yes. By the time she’d gotten set up, Medusa was waiting at the table.

“Aren’t you going to be a good hostess and offer me something to drink? Maybe a bit of dinner? It is 8 o’clock, after all.”

Kara sighed, thinking the other woman looked far too pleased with herself. “You know, I think hostess duties might be lightened a bit for unexpected visitors who let themselves in.”

“Surely a woman with your knowledge of ancient Greek isn’t willing to degrade the concept of hospitality that much, hmm?”

“A fellow classics major?”

“Interview hasn’t started, now has it?”

“Just trying to make conversation,” Kara grumbled. Still she got up and trudged over into the kitchen, pulling out two glasses. “Water? Wine? They’re pretty much your only options.”

“Wine. Something to distract me from that terrible takeout you’ll be splitting with me.”

“Seriou—fine.” Kara grumbled under her breath the whole time she split her lo mein onto two plates. Eventually she got them settled at the table. “Alright, Medusa, let’s start simple.” She stopped her questioning and turned off the recorder at the grimace on the other woman’s face. “Off the record—or on, but I won’t push—can you give me something else to call you? You look like you’re ready to kill me every time I say Medusa.”

“Ancient Greek etymology or no, it’s not particularly flattering.”

“Then give me something better.”

“How about you avoid calling me anything?”

“Fine.” Kara turned back on her recorder. “Then let’s start with why you suddenly find the interview beneficial.”

After a long pause, Medusa nodded. “Your city cops have been preventing me from doing my job to the best of my abilities. I figure a bit of publicity might make the city more trusting.” Kara jotted down a few notes for herself. “And why do you want the interview?”

“Personally? I’m curious about you. Professionally? The paper could use a boost in sales, and the city wants to know who you are. So we’ll talk about some of the questions that have been on everyone’s mind. Why here? Why now?”

“Something happened that I couldn’t ignore. I realized these powers might not be a curse if I could use them for justice.”

“So—”

“Uh uh.” Medusa waggled her finger at Kara. “My turn.” She swirled her wine around her glass before finally deciding. “I’ll give you an easy one. This wine isn’t terrible. Where’d you learn to pick something decent?”

“An ex-girlfriend from college. Her parents owned a vineyard in Napa Valley. My turn. Some people have claimed that you’ve ignored certain kinds of crime and focused on others. They aren’t all so willing to call it justice. What would you say to them?”

Medusa twirled a bit of lo mein around her fork before popping it into her mouth and chewing slowly. “The crimes I ignore are readily answered by the police. I’d rather help the people who are more likely to be ignored. Now you: how’d you end up in Metropolis? You’re not exactly from around here.”

Grumbling under her breath about vigilantes reading records, Kara angrily speared a piece of chicken. “I grew up on the West Coast. My, uh, my parents and my aunt and uncle died when I was 13. There was an attack. I’d been left home alone to babysit my cousin, so I wasn’t with them.” She refused to look up, refused to see what kind of expression would be on the other woman’s face. “The Kents, some family friends, took us in and brought us out to a little town in Kansas. I was old enough to be grateful but also to want to get out and fast. I went to college back in National City, but realized the memories were a little too much, so as soon as I had the chance to move across the country for work, I did.”

The room fell silent, and then warm fingers found hers, curling tightly around them for just a moment before releasing them.

It had been long enough that the tears no longer threatened to fall every time she mentioned her family, but it still brought a certain melancholy mood that Kara tried to push away with a sip of her wine.

“My father died when I was 14,” Medusa volunteered. “We were incredibly close. It’s not the same, but…I know it’s never easy to talk about, so thank you for trusting me.”

Kara wondered if she could reach out and take Medusa’s hands again, but they’d disappeared to her lap for the moment. In an attempt to shake the darkness off, she cleared her throat and started up with a new line of questioning. “We know that you can freeze people.”

“Not literally.”

“No. But they can’t move for hours. A lot of people would call that being frozen in place.”

“And this looseness with language is why journalism is in such a sad state.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed at that. “Are you an insider in the business? Is this where the elusive Medusa goes when we don’t see her?”

“Not answering that.”

“Fine. Then have we seen the full extent of your powers? The ability to…hold people in place with a glance? The speed and agility? And”—Kara gestured at the thigh that did not seem permanently damaged or even sore—“I’ll go ahead and guess, something like faster than usual healing times?”

A quick incline of the head. “They’re the powers I choose to use publicly.” Kara was anxious to ask her next question, but she forced herself to wait. “Why didn’t you try for an interview when I was injured?”

“I didn’t want you to feel like you owed it to me. Or like you didn’t have an option because you were too hurt to speed away.”

“Hmm. Honorable. Not the kind of thing that’ll get you many places in the world, but honorable nonetheless.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara shrugged. “What other powers do you have?”

“No comment.”

“Why not?”

“I never said I had to explain myself to you.”

“Consider it another question.”

“Off record?”

“Fine.” Kara turned off the recorder and turned to Medusa.

“They’re more…offensive in nature. Or intrusive. I might use them sparingly when a situation calls for it, but they’re the kind of things that sound like powers villains have, not heroes.” Kara nodded in understanding. “Why weren’t you scared of me?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen you make mistakes, and I’ve seen you choose to ignore certain crimes or maybe go a little harder after others. But it’s clear that you have a sense of what justice looks like, and you follow it unwaveringly.” She clicked the recorder back on once more. “So, speaking of powers, a lot of readers want to know how you got them. Are you one of the aliens who have found a home on Earth and have chosen to use their powers for good?”

“No. How did a classics major become a star journalist?”

Kara tried not to blush at the casual compliment, though it seemed to warm her from the inside all the way down through her fingertips. “Well, I thought about teaching for a little bit. I actually got accepted into a PhD program in Classics.” Martha had been so proud that she’d baked three whole trays of Kara’s favorite brownies and mailed them to her. “But I decided I wanted to take a little break before doing more school, ended up with an internship at the Daily Planet, and fell in love with it. I mean, it’s not perfect, and there are still a lot of glass ceilings that can seem to be made of bulletproof glass, but I like to think a lot of us are working to change things.”

Medusa nodded and stood up to carry their two empty plates over to the kitchen, returning with the open bottle of wine. “Refill?”

“Sure.”

After a wordless toast, Kara turned back to her notebook. “Can you tell me how you got your powers?”

“Not in a way that anyone should want.”

Kara could feel the crinkle between her brows that had, over the years, begun looking more and more like a permanent wrinkle. There had been stories for decades about a group that had stolen kids—runaways, orphans, the like—off the streets, pretending to offer them shelter but instead experimenting on them. A few reporters had speculated that the Metropolis kidnapping ring that had been infiltrated and brought down last week might have been the epicenter of it. And, now that she thought about it, MPD reports stated that the investigation had begun two years ago, which was just about the same time as the first sighting of Medusa. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me.”

Kara watched as the woman’s body language changed, everything stiffening as the easy demeanor she’d sunk into vanished. “You’re—were you one of those kidnapped kids? The ones they were trying to turn into super-soldiers?”

“This interview is over.”

“Wait! Please, look, I’m turning off the recorder.” She reached out slowly clicking the little red circle off before dropping it to the table. “I’ve been following that case for a long time. I—if it weren’t for the Kents, I could easily have been one of those kids without a family, without anyone wondering where I was.”

“I’m glad you weren’t,” Medusa finally whispered before climbing out the window and disappearing once more into the night.

---

On Sunday, Kara wasn’t particularly surprised to find Medusa in her office, clutching a copy of the Daily Planet with her interview teased on the front page, though Kara was a little shocked that she’d showed up as early as 5.

“You saw, then?”

“You didn’t mention how I got my powers.”

“No.” Trying to act as if everything were business as usual, even with a woman in an all-black leather suit and a half-face mask perched in the chair conveniently positioned in the blind spot for anyone walking through her door, Kara settled in behind her desk and leaned back in her chair. “You didn’t get to ask your question in return, so it hardly seemed fair.”

“Surely a game is not the only reason for keeping out what could have been a breaking news story.”

“Fine. You didn’t seem all that comfortable talking to me about it, and I wanted to show you that I’m not your enemy.”

“I hardly treat my enemies the way I’ve treated you, Kara.”

Kara couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her at the sound of those two syllables rolling off Medusa’s tongue. If the smug grin on Medusa’s face was any indication, she had an inkling.

“What can I do for you, Medusa?”

The woman walked over to Kara, her steps silent. Kara fought (and failed) to keep her breathing steady as Medusa placed one hand on each of the chair’s armrests, effectively trapping Kara. And then she was leaning down, and Kara let her eyes flutter closed, her breath catching in her throat at the feeling of Medusa’s warm breath ghosting across her lips. But then she was passing them altogether, her mouth at Kara’s ear. “Call me Cat.”

She pulled back a few inches, then reached out and carefully straightened Kara’s collar, her fingers lingering along the lines of Kara’s collarbones and making her heart pound loud enough that surely the whole floor could hear it. Without another word, she—no, Cat was gone.

That night—and, if she were being honest, for several nights following—Kara tested the new name on her own, listening to how it sounded as it fell from her lips in a breathy gasp, two fingers buried deep inside of her.

---

On Friday night Cat showed up at Kara’s office, giving a slight knock on the window as notice before she pushed it open and rolled inside.

Checking the time and finding that it was already 11—damn newbie reporters with their inability to take proper editorial instruction the first round, thinking they could just drop claims in without sources—Kara looked back up at Cat, who was now leaning against her window. “Um, is something wrong?”

“I got bored waiting in your apartment.”

“Oh. Um. Right. And you were at my apartment because…?”

“Can’t I come visit? I thought you’d given me an open invitation to see you”—she drew air quotes with her fingers—“whenever the mood strikes.”

“Right, no, you totally can.”

“I even brought dinner to your apartment on Tuesday night, but you seemed…busy.” Her lips curled into a wicked smirk as she watched Kara tilt her head to the side for a moment before letting out an undignified squeak as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Ohmygod. Oh my god. I didn’t, um, I’m so sorry. I… I, uh…”

A dismissive flick of Cat’s wrist stopped the rambling. “It’s fine. I suppose for you the mood struck while you were alone.”

Kara’s head snapped back up at that. “So wait. You’re here to visit me now because the mood—”

“Oh for god’s sake.” And then Cat’s mouth was on Kara’s, answering all of her unvoiced questions with lips and tongue and just a hint of teeth that had Kara whimpering. The answering moan sent a jolt of heat straight between Kara’s legs, and she hooked one around Cat, desperate to have her closer, to have her pressed up against her.

As Cat’s lips trailed down her neck, Kara weakly protested something about being at work and needing to finish with these articles, but then Cat’s fingers were tangling in her hair, and she forgot about everything that wasn’t Cat—Cat’s mouth, Cat’s hands, Cat’s arms. She let her own fingers roam across the smooth expanse of Cat’s suit, seeking out something like a zipper or a button or anything that would make the godforsaken thing open.

“Eager, are we?”

“Please,” Kara gasped as Cat’s mouth moved lower, her fingers spreading Kara’s shirt collar open to get at more skin.

Of course, the moment Cat had finally begun slipping out of the top half of her suit, a knock sounded on Kara’s door.

“Shit!” With no attempt at grace or manners, Kara shoved Cat under her desk, before running a hand through her hair and trying to straighten out her clothing. For the life of her, she could not remember how to act like someone who was not on the verge of having sex with their local vigilante hero. “Come in,” she called out, hoping the slight waver to her voice was undetectable to anyone else.

“Ms. Zorel?” Brian, one of her assistant editors, popped his head around the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Oh, sorry, are you in the middle of something?”

Yes. “No, it’s fine.” A hard pinch to her calf made Kara wince.

“I think I’ve got final edits done for the local section, though Liana never did manage to get a comment from Medusa about that robbery she stopped. She’s on call listening for any reported sightings of her tonight, though.”

“Ah well, I’m sure it’s fine either way. No way to know if Medusa will make an appearance tonight or not.” Blunt nails raked up and down Kara’s thighs—hopefully a promise of a night spent otherwise occupied.

Brian nodded and looked back down at the notepad in front of him, which Kara prayed was distracting enough to keep him from noticing the way her whole body shuddered as Cat’s fingers trailed along the waistband of her slacks, toying with the button.

“Anyway, here are the articles.” Kara held her breath as he approached her desk. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to head home?”

“Go, go.” Her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears, and he gave her an odd look, his gaze fixing on something below her eyes for a long moment. “It’s late, and we still have tomorrow to fix some of these before the Sunday run.”

“Alright, well, have a, uh, good night.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Cat emerged from beneath Kara’s desk, looking more than a little annoyed by the interruption. “If Brian gets to go home…”

“I shouldn’t.” But the protest lacked any conviction. In all honesty, the articles were fine. Perry had already gotten what he needed for tomorrow, and things were looking better than they had in a while for the Sunday issue—apparently being a little less gentle with the new recruits had done something.

It took her by surprise, then, when Cat simply shrugged. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“I was merely trying to be considerate of your workplace by suggesting your apartment. But this will do.” And then Kara found herself with a lap full of hero and leather, and oh god she wasn’t going to survive the night.

Nimble fingers made quick work of her shirt’s buttons, and as Kara leaned forward to pull it all the way off, Cat finally rid herself of the top half of her suit, a tight spandex bra following closely after it.

“Wow.” Any other words died in Kara’s throat at the sight greeting her. Her fingers raked up Cat’s torso, following the lines of taut muscle before moving up higher to cup her breasts, grinning as Cat’s nipples hardened under her touch. “Could you, uh, would you take off the mask?”

Cat pushed herself up and off of Kara’s lap, but before Kara’s apologies could build steam, she watched as the woman strode across the room, locked the door, and threw a chair in front of it for good measure, then came back to her. In one move, Cat peeled the mask off and shook out what Kara could now see were shoulder-length blonde waves.

“So, so beautiful,” Kara whispered, trailing a finger reverently along Cat’s jawline and watching her eyes flutter shut.

“Yes, well, if you ignore the scar.” The flippancy couldn’t quite hide the hint of insecurity that wavered beneath her words.

“No.” Kara pulled her hands back so that Cat would open her eyes, would see the honesty in her expression. “Every part of you, Cat. You’re stunning.” Her thumb swept across Cat’s defined cheekbones, feeling the slightly raised skin where a scar cut down through the end of her eyebrow and past her eye, before curling back into her hairline.

Then Cat’s mouth was back on hers, and Kara’s hands were able to curl into silky blonde hair, which drew a low groan from somewhere deep inside of Cat. The last vestiges of Kara’s self-control, any lingering concerns about the appropriateness of having sex in her office—they all evaporated with that sound, which Kara decided she needed to hear again and again and again.

“While I understand the appeal of all of this”—Cat’s hand gestured up and down her body—“I’d say you’re still rather overdressed for the occasion, wouldn’t you?”

Kara could only nod mutely as fingers deftly undid the hook of her bra, pushing it back and over her shoulders. Before she could think to be self-conscious, surprisingly soft hands were caressing every newly bared inch of her as short nails scratched at her skin, leaving pink streaks tingling in their wake. Then Cat was ducking her head down, her mouth finding Kara’s chest and leaving her dizzy with want. Kara barely even noticed as her belt hit the floor, and it took a firm nudge from Cat to get her up long enough to pull off her pants.

“Up here, I want to touch you,” Kara managed, her breath hitching as Cat straddled one of her thighs, her knee pressing hard between Kara’s legs. Fighting the urge to grind against Cat until she came, Kara focused on the woman in front of her, letting her fingers and mouth map out the lines of her body. As her hands groped at Cat’s ass, her mouth trailing teasing nips and kisses all along Cat’s stomach, she felt Cat’s hips jerk forward as she let out a strangled whine. With that, any lingering remnants of Kara’s self-control snapped. “Cat.” She breathed her name like a prayer against Cat’s heated skin, while her fingers rubbed at Cat through her leather pants.

“Harder.” Cat’s breath was ragged. Her hips rolled against Kara’s fingers as she chased her pleasure. Her tight grip along the back of the chair made the material creak and groan, the plastic slowly giving way and remolding itself beneath her hands.

Her orgasm burst forth like a sparkler—bright and good but too small to be enough, too small to ever hope to be enough. Still, it blunted the edge of her need enough for her to focus her attention back on Kara. “Your turn.”

Kara’s heart hammered in her chest as the full weight of Cat’s gaze fell on her. Part of her wanted to protest—there were so many things she still wanted to do to Cat, wanted to touch more of her, taste her, feel her coming against Kara’s lips and tongue and fingers again and again. But she couldn’t deny her body’s own reaction to Cat slipping off the chair and sinking to her knees. Fuck. She hadn’t thought real life would ever be better than fantasies, but it definitely was. So much better. So, so much better.

Cat slowly inched down Kara’s underwear, running the tip of her tongue along her teeth at the sight of the damp patch darkening the cotton. “You’re already so wet.” Kara shivered as Cat rose up on her knees and brushed her lips against Kara’s ear. Her fingertips dragged up and along Kara’s thighs, stopping just short of where she wanted her. “Tell me, how long have you been wanting this to happen?”

“Cat.” Her voice was needy and high-pitched by that point, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Tell me, Kara.” A single finger teased at her entrance. “How long?”

“Months,” Kara gasped.

“Did you picture this?” A whimper escaped Kara’s lips as Cat dropped her mouth to Kara’s inner thighs. “Is this what you want?”

“Inside. Please. Please. Need you in—” The rest of Kara’s words were swallowed up as one, then two fingers easily slipped inside her. Her teeth drug into her lower lip as she fought to stay silent, fought to stop the pleas for more, for harder, for faster, for anything and everything Cat was willing to give her.

Even in the silence, Cat seemed to intuit all the words that Kara was biting back. “There are so many things I want to do.” A wicked smirk pulled up one corner of her mouth. “I hardly know where to start.” In an instant, Cat’s free arm hooked under one of Kara’s thighs as she dragged Kara further down until she was right where Cat wanted her. “Do you know,” Cat began, her teeth nipping at Kara’s inner thighs before her tongue chased away the sting, “what I’d like to start with?”

Kara’s breath caught in her throat at the sight facing her, and she prayed she never forgot it—not that she really thought she could. “God, Cat, please.”

“Please what?” Cat’s tongue and lips trailed along Kara’s hipbones, edging closer and closer before darting back away.

“Your mouth,” Kara gasped, hips bucking up to chase it out for themselves, earning a small tut from Cat, who held her down more firmly. And oh god, she didn’t really think restraints would do it for her, but apparently when those restraints were made of the lithe muscles of the resident hero, they did. They really, really did. “I want your mouth. If you want to, I mean—”

“Yes.” Cat’s voice was practically a purr as she bowed her head, then licked firmly up the length of Kara’s sex.

Fuck.” Kara lost all coherence somewhere around the time that Cat slipped a third finger inside of her. She managed to keep the presence of mind to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep quiet as Cat’s lips wrapped around her clit. She damn near cried as she fought to stifle any errant noises as her whole body trembled, then tensed, then collapsed back into the chair, pleasure coursing through her veins.

She came to as Cat pulled herself back to her feet. With an outstretched hand, which felt about all she could manage at the moment, Kara dragged Cat forward. “Take those off? I still want a full turn.”

“You don’t really seem in a position to do much about it.” Cat didn’t look angry about that—more self-satisfied than anything.

“Trust me.”

With a shrug, Cat shimmied out of the leather pants, her underwear following soon after.

“God, you’re so hot.”

“Mm, I am, aren’t I?”

Kara couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at that. “And very humble.” Before Cat could answer, Kara gestured at her desk. “Wanna get up there for me?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Cat perched on the edge of the desk and looked back at Kara. “This good?”

“Mhmm,” Kara hummed as she rolled her chair back in, her thighs dragging across a rather sizable wet patch at the edge of her seat that she hoped wouldn’t stain the black fabric. Testing the angle, Kara leaned forward, propping her elbows on the outsides of Cat’s hips and bending down. “Perfect.”

Kara grinned as Cat’s hips jumped at the feeling of Kara’s warm breath ghosting against her. From there, she let herself get lost in the feeling of Cat all around her, lost herself in how good Cat tasted, how wet she was, the little whimpers she could hear filling the air. Her hands dug into Cat’s hips as she pulled her in, needing to be closer. When she flicked her tongue against Cat’s entrance, she felt fingers tangle in her hair, holding her tight, and she couldn’t bite back the answering moan.

A part of her wanted to draw it out, to make Cat whimper and writhe on her desk for as long as she could handle, but she contented herself with hoping that there would be future occasions to try that. Instead, she pushed her tongue back inside Cat as her thumb moved to circle Cat’s clit. She could feel Cat’s thighs tensing, the way her whole body drew tight as a bowstring, back arching off the desk.

Time seemed to pause, the seconds suspended in air, and all Kara could hear was Cat’s ragged breathing; all she could taste and smell and feel was Cat surrounding her. And then it all snapped back to the present as Cat came with a loud cry, thighs clenching around Kara’s head until she collapsed back down to the desk.

Kara was more than happy to stay between Cat’s legs, cleaning her up and, just maybe, starting the next round, but then Cat’s hands were dragging her up for a kiss—very wet and a little sloppy and just right.

“As fun as this has been, you’ve got…oh, I’d guess a minute, before someone works up the courage to come see what all the noise was.”

Kara’s eyes widened. There weren’t that many people here late at night, but she certainly wasn’t alone on the floor. “Oh god.”

“I’d be more than happy to, uh”—Cat flashed a predatory smile as she fluttered her eyelashes—“turn on the charm, let’s say.”

“You cannot freeze my coworkers!”

“Then you’d better get dressed.”

Grumbling about superpowered aliens who move faster and hear better and can’t remember to stay quiet during clandestine office sex, Kara gathered her clothes from all along the floor behind her desk, throwing them on as quickly as she could. By the time she looked up, Cat was fully dressed, even her mask already back in place.

Cat carefully did up Kara’s last two buttons, grinning as she dragged her eyes up and down the significantly more disheveled editor. “Call me,” she whispered, pressing a scrap of paper into Kara’s hand before pressing a kiss to her lips.

Mere moments after Cat had disappeared into the night, a soft knock sounded at Kara’s door, followed by the nervous-sounding voice of one of the younger reporters. “Um, Ms. Zorel? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Pulling away the chair, Kara undid the lock and pulled open the door. “Jonathan! I’m just fine. Just fine, sorry, I had a group of friends I ditched at the bar on speaker phone, so I, uh, apologize for any loud yelling.”

“Oh, okay, cool. Just wanted to check, you know?”

“I appreciate it. Gotta watch out for your team!” With a little wave, she gestured towards her bag. “I’m gonna head out for the night, go home and get some sleep.”

“Have a good night.” He paused in the doorway, hesitating for a long moment. “Oh and um, you’ve got a little something on your collar.”

Once he disappeared, Kara pulled out her phone and opened the camera, only to find Medusa’s signature lipstick smeared across her white collar.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Nope, not helping.

She whipped her phone out, punching in the newly acquired phone number, her fingers hitting the screen with a bit more force than was necessary.

Kara: Cat!

Kara: What the hell??

Kara: You didn’t want to tell me about the big lipstick mark??

A few moments later Kara’s phone chimed with a response.

Cat: Perhaps I wanted people to know you were mine…

Cat: Be good and maybe next time you’ll get to mark me