Erick drove back to the mansion in absolute silence. The low hum of the black SUV's electric motor was the only sound inside the vehicle; outside, Gotham roared as always—distant sirens, engines revving on highways, the muffled echo of gunfire in some East End alley. He kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, his knuckles white from the pressure, but his face impassive. His helmet was tucked into his jacket collar, the dark visor reflecting the lights of passing streetlights in blurs of yellow and red. Inside his head, however, it was an organized hell.
Exit.
Artemis's older sister. Cheshire. Elite assassin.
He knew exactly who she served—and it wasn't just the Penguin, or any other Gotham criminal. The information didn't come from wiretaps, or Natasha's hacking, or some recent underworld source. It came from another life.
In his previous existence, Erick had consumed hundreds of stories from the DC universe: comics, animations, series, fanfiction, forum debates. He knew the big players. He knew that Jade Nguyen — Cheshire — was one of the sharpest blades of the League of Shadows, the ancient organization commanded by Ra's al Ghul, the ecological immortal who dreamed of "cleansing" the planet of plagues and selective assassinations. But he also knew that, at certain times, she acted for the Light — the Society of Light, the secret club of high-level villains that included names like Vandal Savage (the man who existed since the dawn of humanity, immortal, manipulative, with millennia of experience in controlling empires), Lex Luthor in his darker phases, Black Manta, Ra's himself, and other players who moved between the shadows and visible power. Jade was a loose cannon, an elite mercenary who switched sides depending on the pay and convenience, but her primary loyalty always returned to the League of Shadows—and, by extension, to the larger agendas that Ra's and Savage were pursuing behind the scenes.
And now she had just finished negotiating alien weapons with the Penguin.
And I had accepted his card.
Erick gripped the steering wheel tighter, the tendons in his forearms throbbing beneath his skin. He had just extended a noose to someone caught between two organizations that could wipe out continents if they wanted to. Ra's al Ghul didn't forgive betrayal. Vandal Savage had the patience to wait centuries for revenge. And the Light… the Light played chess with nations as if they were disposable pawns.
He knew the size of the hole he had dug.
And he decided, right there, in the silence of the car: he wouldn't tell Artemis. Not now.
Artemis already carried the weight of her murderous father (Sportsmaster), her imprisoned mother, her stolen childhood, and the guilt of having been molded into a weapon. Knowing that her sister was so deeply involved in the League of Shadows—and occasionally serving the Light, where Savage and other ancient monsters plotted—would tear her head apart.
Erick wasn't going to do that to her.
He would carry it himself.
The SUV turned onto the private road leading to the mansion. The iron gates opened automatically, detecting his neural chip. He parked in the underground garage, turned off the engine, and sat there for a few seconds, head resting against the backrest, eyes closed. The elemental fire pulsed slowly in his chest, warm, constant, like a reminder that he was still alive. And that he still had work ahead of him.
He got out of the car, threw his jacket in the back seat, and walked to the stairs leading to the basement. He passed through the armored door—biometrics + neural recognition—descended the polished concrete steps, and entered the shower area he had commissioned in the west wing of the underground laboratory.
And it stopped.
The light was soft there—recessed ceiling lights with a warm, almost amber temperature, so as not to hurt the eyes after hours under cool LEDs. Steam rose from the double shower, condensing on the polished black stone walls and the smoked glass that separated the shower stall from the rest of the room. And inside the stall, under the cascade of hot water, was Artemis.
New.
Completely nude.
The water trickled in thick, clear rivers down her body, tracing shimmering paths across her tanned, firm skin. It began at her broad, archer-like shoulders, descended to her delicate collarbone, contoured her full, high breasts—pink nipples hardened by the contrast of the warm water with the cool air, areolas slightly wrinkled by the heat—drippled down her smooth stomach, marked by subtle muscles that appeared when she breathed deeply, contoured her small, perfect navel, descended to her shaved mons pubis, her outer lips pink and swollen from the temperature, parted just enough to let the water trickle between them in thin, warm rivulets, dripping down her long, strong inner thighs, sculpted by years of heels, high kicks, and night runs. Her calves flexed slightly as she turned to rinse her hair, her round, firm buttocks contracting with the movement, drops trickling down the cleft between them to the backs of her thighs.
Her blonde hair, now darkened by the water, clung to her neck and back in heavy strands, revealing a discreet tattoo between her shoulder blades: a broken arrow, a symbol of someone who had already been broken and chosen to keep fighting. Thin scars crisscrossed her back and thighs—reminders of brutal training with her father, of falls on patrol, of arrows that missed their target by millimeters. All of this shimmered beneath the water, the steam rising around her like an ethereal aura, her body appearing sculpted from liquid gold under the warm light.
She had her back to him, but turned her face slowly, as if she had sensed his presence even before hearing the door. Her green eyes met his through the steam.
She didn't smile.
He didn't blink.
She just stared at him, her wet hair plastered to her face, drops trickling down her long eyelashes like tears that weren't.
"You took your time," she said, her voice low, hoarse from the steam and something deeper.
Erick felt the air catch in his throat. The elemental fire, which normally burned under control, pulsed strongly in his chest, as if it wanted to burst through his skin. He didn't respond immediately. He simply closed the door behind him with a soft click. He took off his utility belt and let it fall to the floor with a metallic clink. He unbuttoned his black shirt, button by button, revealing his chest marked by old scars from fire tests and recent bruises that were already fading thanks to regeneration. He threw the shirt aside. He pulled down his pants, boxers along with them, leaving him completely naked.
His penis was already hard just from looking at her—thick, heavy, veins bulging along its length, the pink head glistening with a drop of precum that slowly trickled down the slit and dripped onto the floor. He walked slowly to the shower stall, the steam enveloping him like a warm embrace. He stepped under the water with her.
The hot water lashed against his back like a living waterfall. He stopped inches from her, his chest almost touching her breasts, his penis lightly brushing against her inner thigh, leaving a warm trail of pre-ejaculate on her wet skin. Artemis lifted her face, her green eyes fixed on his, drops trickling down her lashes.
"How was it?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.
Erick blinked once, confused.
"How did what happen?"
She gave a small, dangerous smile and placed her open hand on his chest, her fingers spread over his pounding heart. She gave a firm tap, almost a slap, but one loaded with intent.
"The mission, you idiot. How did it go?"
He chuckled softly, hoarsely, the sound vibrating against her palm.
"Let's leave that for later."
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't kind. It wasn't romantic. It was hungry.
Their mouths collided forcefully, teeth clashing, tongues meeting in a wet, desperate struggle. He gripped the nape of her neck with one hand, pulling her closer, his fingers tangling in her wet hair. His other hand slid down her back, tracing her spine until it gripped her buttocks tightly, his fingers digging into the firm flesh, pulling her against him until his hard cock nestled between her thighs, rubbing against her warm, slippery entrance.
Artemis groaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by the water cascading over them both. She bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste mingling with the kiss. Her hands moved up his arms, nails scratching his biceps, down his back to grip his buttocks as well, pulling him closer to her.
"Fuck me," she whispered against his mouth, her voice hoarse, almost a growl. "Now. Hard. Without mercy."
Erick did not respond with words.
He flipped her onto her back with a quick, possessive movement, pushing her against the black stone wall of the shower stall. Her hands braced against the wall, palms open, fingers spread, nails scraping the smooth surface. He gripped her hips from behind, positioning himself between her legs. The head of his penis brushed against her entrance—wet, hot, slippery from the water and the excitement—slowly parting her outer lips, feeling the initial resistance of the tight ring.
He pushed hard.
He thrust in halfway in a single stroke, his thick cock forcing its way in, stretching her to her limit. Artemis threw her head back and screamed—a raw, guttural sound that echoed in the shower like an animal being unleashed. He gripped her hips tightly, fingers digging into her flesh, and pushed the rest in, burying himself completely, his balls slapping against her swollen clitoris.
"Fuck..." she groaned, her voice trembling, her body arching against the wall.
Erick began to move—slow, deep thrusts at first, feeling every inch of her contract around him, the internal heat almost unbearable, her inner walls tightening like a living fist. Then he sped up—a strong, rhythmic pace, the wet sound of skin slapping together with the sound of falling water. Each thrust made her breasts sway, her nipples brushing against the cold wall, sending shocks of pleasure through her body.
His hands moved up her wet back, one gripping her blonde hair and pulling her head back, exposing her neck. He bit the curve between her shoulder and neck—hard enough to leave a red mark, but without breaking the skin—his tongue tracing a path to her ear, nibbling at the lobe. His other hand circled her waist, moved down to her clitoris, and began rubbing in quick, firm circles, pressing with his fingertips, feeling the swollen knot throb beneath his touch.
Artemis was trembling all over.
"Damn... Erick... like that... don't stop... harder..."
He obeyed.
He increased the pace, thrusting with brute force now—his cock going in and out completely with each movement, the glans hitting her deepest point, her cervix being pressed with each thrust. The sound was obscene: wet skin slapping against wet skin, water splashing, loud, hoarse moans echoing in the shower. He squeezed her breasts from behind, fingers digging into the soft flesh, rolling her hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling lightly.
She came first—her whole body contracting, her thighs trembling violently, her pussy tightening around him in rhythmic spasms, hot milk running down her inner thighs mixed with the shower water. She screamed—a long, hoarse, almost animalistic sound—her nails scratching the stone wall, leaving white marks.
Erick felt her orgasm tighten around him like a vise, his cock throbbing inside her, and he lost control.
He fucked her with brutal, almost punitive force—deep, rapid thrusts, his balls slapping against her sensitive clitoris with each movement. One hand went up to her neck, squeezing lightly—not to choke her, but to feel her accelerated pulse beneath his fingers—the other continued rubbing her clitoris in quick circles. She thrust her hips back, meeting each thrust, moaning incessantly, her body trembling in successive waves.
"Come inside... fuck... fill my pussy... come..."
He couldn't take it anymore.
With a guttural grunt, he buried himself deep inside her and came—hot, thick jets filling her completely, his cock throbbing violently within her as he spilled all over, semen overflowing and running down her thighs along with the water. Artemis came again just from the sensation—her body convulsing, a long, hoarse cry escaping her throat, her nails digging into the wall until they left deep marks.
They remained like that for long seconds — him still inside her, both panting, the hot water cascading over their sweaty, trembling bodies, the semen slowly trickling down her legs, mixing with the water that went down the drain.
Then he slowly pulled out, his still semi-hard penis sliding with a wet sound. He turned her around, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her—slow, deep, almost reverent, his tongue calmly exploring her mouth now, savoring the salty taste of sweat and pleasure.
"I love you," he murmured against her lips, the first time he'd said it aloud since everything.
Artemis blinked in surprise, her green eyes shining with something that wasn't just lust—it was vulnerability, trust, love.
"I love you too, you idiot."
They laughed together, softly, exhausted and alive.
The water continued to fall.
The world outside — Jade, the League of Shadows, the Light, Vandal Savage, Ra's al Ghul, Black Mask destroyed, the bounty that still lingered like a shadow — could wait a little longer.
For now, there were only the two of them: the hot water and the fire that burned between them without destroying them.
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