Acro-Bat touched down on the balcony of Backwards-babe’s tower suite, the night wind cool against his flushed skin. The summons had appeared in shimmering violet script outside his quarters: “EMOC OT EM.” He’d rolled his eyes, but his pulse had already quickened. He always came. He always hated that he came.

The room was a haze of low violet light and drifting incense. Backwards-babe reclined against a mountain of black satin pillows, legs stretched languidly, sheer black fishnet stockings catching the glow. She wore a glossy satin bunny suit—deep violet with black accents—that hugged her curves like a second skin: a plunging, strapless corset bodice that cinched her waist dramatically and pushed her full breasts high into a teasing swell, a crisp white bow tie at her throat, matching white cuffs at her wrists, a fluffy white bunny tail perched just above the curve of her ass. The suit’s high-cut bottom left the tops of her thighs bare, making every shift of her hips feel like an invitation. She watched him with half-lidded eyes, lips curved in that knowing smile that made his stomach twist.

“revo ereh, yob elttil,” she murmured, crooking a finger.

Invisible silk threads of magic tugged him forward until he stood between her parted thighs. His body obeyed before his mind could protest. Heat flooded him, cock already swelling against the tight confines of his suit.

“You don’t have to spell me every time,” he said, voice rough. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

She laughed, low and velvet. “But it’s so much more fun when you fight it just a little.” Her gloved fingers traced the hard line now straining his costume. “Poor Acro-Bat. All day long you trail after Apex like a starving puppy, staring at that perfect circle of cleavage she flaunts. She snaps ‘eyes up here’ and leaves you aching. Then you come crawling to me for relief.”

He flushed darker, hating how accurately she read him. Apex’s costume was merciless—white fabric stretched drum-tight, the bold circular window framing deep, creamy cleavage that jiggled with every confident stride. She paraded through the base giving orders, breasts bouncing hypnotically, and every stolen glance earned a sharp reprimand. The constant denial left him hard and frustrated for hours.

She let her gloved hands slide lower, cupping the firm curves of his ass through the tight suit and squeezing appreciatively. “Though let’s be honest, pet — it’s not just relief you offer. This ass of yours… magic couldn’t craft anything tighter or rounder. Half the reason I spell you here is so I can watch it flex when you try to resist me. The other half? So I can leave my marks on it.”

Backwards-babe’s hand slipped inside his suit, wrapping cool fingers around his shaft. “Gnibborht dna drah” she whispered.

Instant arousal slammed through him; he swelled impossibly harder, veins pulsing, precum already beading at the tip. He groaned, hips jerking into her grip.

“That’s better,” she purred. She stroked him slowly, deliberately, thumb circling the sensitive head on every upstroke. When his breathing turned ragged and his thighs trembled, she murmured “esuap,” and every muscle locked. He hovered on the brink, cock twitching helplessly, unable to tip over.

“Please…” he gritted out.

“Please what, pet?” She leaned forward, breasts brushing his chest, nipples hard points through lace. “You want to come already? We’ve barely started.”

She pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his hips. With a flick of her wrist his suit peeled open further, baring him completely. She rose up, guiding his aching length to her slick heat, and sank down inch by torturous inch. A throaty moan escaped her as he filled her; magic kept him rigid and throbbing inside her tight warmth.

Backwards-babe rolled her hips lazily, riding him with languid grace. Each grind dragged the head of his cock against her inner walls; each lift left him desperate for more. She watched his face the entire time, amused by every twitch and gasp.

“Tell me how much you hate this,” she teased, clenching around him deliberately.

“I—fuck—I hate how much I need it,” he admitted through clenched teeth.

She rewarded him with a faster rhythm, breasts bouncing in the corset, threatening to spill free. When she leaned forward to brace her hands on his chest, they nearly did, soft flesh brushing his lips. He turned his head away on instinct; she laughed and whispered “kcus,” forcing his mouth to the stiff peak of one nipple. He sucked helplessly, tongue swirling, while she rode him harder.

Minutes stretched into an eternity of edged pleasure. Whenever climax coiled tight in his gut, she froze him again with a single backward word. Sweat beaded on his skin; his hands fisted in the sheets. She came twice—once with a soft cry, inner muscles milking him uselessly, and again with a wicked grin as she ground her clit against his pelvis.

Finally, when her own pleasure began to ebb and boredom flickered in her violet eyes, she sat up straight, breasts heaving. “Enough teasing,” she declared. “Muc won.”

The command detonated inside him. Orgasm crashed over him in brutal waves, cock pulsing again and again as he spilled deep inside her. The pleasure was almost painful in its intensity—magic forcing every drop from him, prolonging it until his vision sparkled and his voice broke on a hoarse groan.

She rode out his climax with a satisfied sigh, then lifted off him. A lazy gesture zipped his suit back into place, trapping his spent, sensitive length against his thigh.

He lay there catching his breath while she lounged beside him, tracing idle patterns on his chest.

“You may go, pet,” she said at last, patting his cheek. “Try not to stare too obviously at Apex’s tits tomorrow. Though we both know you will.”