Red and Black
Red and Black
Sky High
Romance/Drama: NC-17 for sexual content
Author’s Note: This scene comes during the Epilogue of my story War and Peace In Mind. I’m pretty sure you’d be able to tell what part. If you haven’t read the rest of WaPIM, this chapter won’t make a whole ton of sense, just FYI. This isn’t intended to be a stand-alone; it was supposed to be a cut scene. I didn’t do much with explicit sexuality in WaPIM, though I could have, and it sort of all came out in this scene. But since this was originally posted on FanFiction.net, which is often the first stop for teenage writers, I opted to keep the bulk of WaPIM non-sexual. Most of the FF.net crowd is far too young to read this stuff. So if you’re under the age of 18, read no farther. You can corrupt your mind at a later date. Seriously. Move away from the pr0n!
“So… I really can’t help but notice there’s not that many boxes to move,” I commented idly. Monica’s apartment was Spartan in nature, with almost zero clutter, and even less right now with nine-tenths of the things in neatly-labeled boxes. It was a tiny apartment too: one bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom, completely no-frills.
“The boxes weren’t really the issue. I won’t be able to rent that truck until U-Haul opens in the morning anyway,” Monica said casually, walking into the bedroom. “I mostly needed your help in fitting this new costume. Hey, wash your hands first; this material picks up grease like you wouldn’t believe.”
Since we’d eaten dinner at KFC, that was a legitimate excuse to get myself behind a closed door. Monica had all but given me an open invitation this morning for what I’d very much wanted to do for a long time, and right now my pants were uncomfortably confining. We’d almost broken down and had sex a few times after fighting villains together, but we’d both regained sanity before it had gotten farther than making out and heavy petting. The fact that we were in the same city as my mother, who had no difficulty in picking out my emotional state from at least a quarter mile away, was a big factor in our self-control.
We could have easily fooled around while we were in the academy, but neither of us had been exactly in our right minds, and we both knew it. Not that I hadn’t seriously thought about it, but fear had eventually trumped pleasure. That wasn’t the case now. We weren’t under any big threat, and I knew Mom was very far out of town. Besides, my intentions were ultimately honorable… even if neither of us were willing to wait for vows.
I shut the door firmly behind me and slowly washed my hands, trying to give myself enough time to regain control. I did not want to walk into Monica’s bedroom with my pants ready to burst. I looked up at myself, breathing slowly, letting the heat surging through my body cool slightly. I wanted control; I needed control. I knew how hot I could get when I was on the edge, and I didn’t want to hurt Monica.
The water poured over my hands again and again as I dragged my eyes down to stare at the counter. In the mirror I looked hungry, predatory, and that disturbed me ever-so-slightly. I blankly gazed at the tile to clear my head, and then it penetrated what was sitting next to the sink. Every other toiletry in the bathroom, other than the most essential, was boxed up, and the rest were lined up on the counter. Shampoo on one side, then hand soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash, birth control pills… The last was almost prominently displayed, and my mouth went dry.
Messages don’t get much clearer than that, Peace, my brain pointed out.
It was annoyingly right. I shut off the water and dried my hands quickly. There was unfortunately nothing I could do for the state of my pants right now. The low throb in my groin was slowly starting to build, and I opened the door quickly. Maybe if I could just sit down somewhere…
“Warren, give me a hand?” Monica’s voice drifted out of the bedroom.
Well, no luck there.
Do you even want to have that kind of luck? I think you want to get lucky, not try to be chivalrous… my brain insisted.
I don’t want to do anything stupid, I thought back.
Too late.
I took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom, where Monica was struggling to pin up the side of her new costume, and having an awkward time of it. Her old Painbreaker costume had been heavy black robes, draped to conceal any hint that she was a woman. The new costume, while still not the traditional skin-tight suit and cape, was a lot shorter and more form-fitting. It was a charcoal gray, rather than black, and still had her characteristic mask and cowl, but definitely showed her off a lot more.
Better go help her there Peace; your appreciation is showing.
“I can’t reach this side very well,” she was saying, moving her arm so I could slide pins in along her ribs. My hands were steady, but my breathing was rapidly becoming not. Monica lifted off her cowl and mask to watch what I was doing, checking in the mirror to see the close fit of the new outfit, nodding her head in approval. Her long, dark hair flowed out from under the cowl, the ends of it pouring over my hands. For some reason, that nearly did it, and I jammed a pin in a lot deeper than I intended.
“Ouch,” Monica said, not even flinching, and I was torn between laughing and cursing.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, and yanked it out. She reached down and put one hand on my wrist, and I froze.
“Tell me you’re done being chivalrous,” she said quietly. I swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” I said.
“So am I. I want this,” she said very directly, and slowly began to pull out the other pins.
I blinked at her, sitting back on my heels, as the costume slid off her body. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath other than a black lace bra and panties. Years of hard work to keep herself in shape to run away or fight had given her lean lines and delicate definition. My pants were suddenly excruciatingly painfully confining, and my groin was throbbing hard.
She knelt down next to me, gently shoving me back and up until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. I reached out to touch, wanting to run my hands through her hair, over every inch of her skin, when she captured my hands in her own. Softly, she turned them over, exposing the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, and kissed it, tongue slowly tracing the lines of my tattoos on my right, while her fingers followed the same lines on my left.
“Jesus,” I whispered, head hanging forward, pleasure radiating out from my wrists and hands. Monica knew they were my weak spot, able to bring me to my knees with the right nerve-pinch hold, or to send me flying with a gentle touch. I had so many extra nerves to conduct my fire in my hands that I was half-paralyzed with the pleasure of it.
I wanted to pull her to me, to feel her against me, skin-on-skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. It was only the rising heat within me that made me able to talk. I could feel the fire getting closer and closer to the surface, and Monica had to feel it too.
“Monica,” I said, almost groaning when she delicately stroked a line down my wrist. “Fire, I’m close. I don’t… want to hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me,” she said, pulling her head up to stare into my eyes, her hands now stroking each of mine in tandem.
“I know I can’t hurt you, but I don’t want to burn you,” I gasped, as she traced her nails along my tendons in a teasing tickle.
“You won’t,” she promised, and her hands suddenly left mine, tugging at my shirt instead.
My clothes were off in record time, and I twisted around a bit to finally unhook her bra, seeing all of her for the first time. With her walnut skin she looked like she was carved out of wood, and I looked strangely pale next to her. I quickly moved my hands before she could grab them again, pulling her up next to me and leaning her back on the bed.
I leaned over her, running both hands through her hair, down her neck, over her shoulders, curling naturally around her small breasts, nipples tight and erect. She arched into my hands with a breathy cry, and I could feel a deep surge from my groin that warned me how close I was.
“Warren, want you,” she whispered, and I think we both moved at the same time, me covering her, her opening for me. I hesitated, struggling for control, feeling the heat radiating off of me so much I was surprised she wasn’t scorching already.
“Don’t stop,” she warned, and her hands ran down my back to clench tightly on my ass. She was open and ready, and all I wanted to do was to sink into her. But the fire was so close…
“I don’t want to burn-.”
“You won’t. You can’t,” she insisted, and tightened her legs around me. My cock, straining so hard I thought it might burst right away, sunk into her, driving deep, enveloped in tight, wet flesh. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a minute, positive I was about to come, the throbbing so deep, so fast, so powerful that I didn’t dare twitch. Monica gasped under me as I braced my hands on either side of her body, her head twisting backwards, her expression one of ecstasy.
“Yesss,” she hissed, putting her arms around my neck. I took a few deep breaths, and then hauled her up, sitting so we could face each other, still connected deeply. I felt I had more control that way, and I shifted my hips slightly, groaning deep in my chest at the way I felt inside her. Why the hell had we waited so long?
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of our breathing as we slowly rocked together. I didn’t want it to end, and if I tried anything too fast, I knew I wouldn’t last. Then Monica managed to capture my hands again, her fingers irresistibly tracing along my wrists. The fire that I thought I’d held at bay was suddenly roaring under the surface again, and I gasped in warning.
“Monica, the fire, close.” I wanted to pull away, to keep my lethal flames away from her, but didn’t have the willpower. I couldn’t make myself leave, not when I’d just found heaven.
“You could never burn me,” she said again, her nails scraping delicately along the sensitive skin.
That did it for me, and I could see the fire in my mind’s eye, roaring in triumph. I reached for it, the fire blazing up in an ember-red explosion, a brain-numbing explosion of a different sort happening lower, strength going out of me in pulse after pulse of bliss.
The ember-fire ran through me and into Monica and back again, and I could see her in my mind far more clearly than anyone I’d ever healed. She felt fire-warm against me, and she clutched me tightly. Her nails suddenly dug in hard, hard enough to cut the skin, and though there should have been a brief surge of pain, instead there was a queer feeling of lightness. A sensation like flight, a feeling of well-being and euphoria, as sparkling black energy laced through both of us.
“Monica… what?” I whispered, the red and black energy flowing back and forth between us.
“I don’t, I don’t-,” she stopped, and pressed against me harder, fingers digging in what should have been painfully hard. Instead it only sent me soaring higher. I could still feel myself pulsing within her, not totally spent yet, but reveling in the new sensation.
“God…” she gasped, and pulled my head against her neck, the red fire crawling and swirling over and under her skin. Both our powers had gone a little mad, I realized, showing each other how they felt to the other, letting me feel what she did, and visa versa. I didn’t particularly care the hows or whys, but instead kissed Monica on the neck, sucking tenderly on her smooth skin there.
She clutched my head hard, nearly driving my teeth into her skin, and I resisted slightly, stroking down her back gently.
“Warren, I need-,” she stopped, pushing back against me, bringing us both down from the power-high a little. “Just a little, it’s just me, you can’t hurt me, please, I just need…”
I was feeling what she was, how she felt when her powers were invoked. Pain no longer bothered her; she told me she felt it was life-affirming. Euphoric. And she needed this right now, and in this moment, nothing I could do would hurt her, not with the ember fire engulfing both of us.
Tentatively I set my teeth on her neck and pinched down, and nearly swallowed my tongue when she clenched hard on my cock within her. It was accompanied by another surge of euphoria that sent my head spinning. Monica’s breath was coming in short pants, clearly riding the edge, and they got shorter and shorter as I clamped harder and harder, nearly drawing blood.
“So… close,” she whimpered in ragged little sighs.
“Harder?” I asked, releasing her to search her eyes.
“More,” she gasped, “Everything. Please.”
The ember-fire was still flowing strongly through both of us, or wouldn’t have done it. Right here, right now, there was nothing I could do to harm her. And the promise of the supernova of pleasure that awaited both of us meant I didn’t hesitate. Feeling like a vampire, I savagely bit down on her throat, tasting blood only for the tiniest of instants before fire roared up through her skin and down my throat. My vision went white as we soared high together, bodies, minds, and powers intertwined, exploding and twisting and imploding, screams and sobs echoing in both our ears until finally, some eons later, we returned to Earth.
I struggled out of semi-consciousness, slowly pulling myself out of Monica so I could hold her against me. I brushed her hair away from the side of her neck, amazed that there wasn’t even a scar. I didn’t even feel disturbed at what I’d done. I’d known there was no danger, and I wasn’t trying to hurt Monica. I’d been trying to make her feel good; and for the powers she had, either extreme of feeling worked for her. And for me too. I hadn’t ever felt like that before in my life. I knew exactly how she felt when she used her powers, and it only made me understand her on a level I hadn’t thought possible.
“That wasn’t too weird, was it?” she asked softly, eyes still closed.
“If by weird you mean, ‘absolutely mind-blowing,’ then no. It was exactly weird enough,” I said, curling one hand around her stomach. I could feel her laughing as she tried to stifle the sound, and I smiled against her hair.
“Weird enough,” she repeated, snorting.
“I love you,” I said, my hand slowly running down her arm.
“I love you too,” she said, turning to face me, crushing us together. “Always.”
Sky High
Romance/Drama: NC-17 for sexual content
Author’s Note: This scene comes during the Epilogue of my story War and Peace In Mind. I’m pretty sure you’d be able to tell what part. If you haven’t read the rest of WaPIM, this chapter won’t make a whole ton of sense, just FYI. This isn’t intended to be a stand-alone; it was supposed to be a cut scene. I didn’t do much with explicit sexuality in WaPIM, though I could have, and it sort of all came out in this scene. But since this was originally posted on FanFiction.net, which is often the first stop for teenage writers, I opted to keep the bulk of WaPIM non-sexual. Most of the FF.net crowd is far too young to read this stuff. So if you’re under the age of 18, read no farther. You can corrupt your mind at a later date. Seriously. Move away from the pr0n!
“So… I really can’t help but notice there’s not that many boxes to move,” I commented idly. Monica’s apartment was Spartan in nature, with almost zero clutter, and even less right now with nine-tenths of the things in neatly-labeled boxes. It was a tiny apartment too: one bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom, completely no-frills.
“The boxes weren’t really the issue. I won’t be able to rent that truck until U-Haul opens in the morning anyway,” Monica said casually, walking into the bedroom. “I mostly needed your help in fitting this new costume. Hey, wash your hands first; this material picks up grease like you wouldn’t believe.”
Since we’d eaten dinner at KFC, that was a legitimate excuse to get myself behind a closed door. Monica had all but given me an open invitation this morning for what I’d very much wanted to do for a long time, and right now my pants were uncomfortably confining. We’d almost broken down and had sex a few times after fighting villains together, but we’d both regained sanity before it had gotten farther than making out and heavy petting. The fact that we were in the same city as my mother, who had no difficulty in picking out my emotional state from at least a quarter mile away, was a big factor in our self-control.
We could have easily fooled around while we were in the academy, but neither of us had been exactly in our right minds, and we both knew it. Not that I hadn’t seriously thought about it, but fear had eventually trumped pleasure. That wasn’t the case now. We weren’t under any big threat, and I knew Mom was very far out of town. Besides, my intentions were ultimately honorable… even if neither of us were willing to wait for vows.
I shut the door firmly behind me and slowly washed my hands, trying to give myself enough time to regain control. I did not want to walk into Monica’s bedroom with my pants ready to burst. I looked up at myself, breathing slowly, letting the heat surging through my body cool slightly. I wanted control; I needed control. I knew how hot I could get when I was on the edge, and I didn’t want to hurt Monica.
The water poured over my hands again and again as I dragged my eyes down to stare at the counter. In the mirror I looked hungry, predatory, and that disturbed me ever-so-slightly. I blankly gazed at the tile to clear my head, and then it penetrated what was sitting next to the sink. Every other toiletry in the bathroom, other than the most essential, was boxed up, and the rest were lined up on the counter. Shampoo on one side, then hand soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash, birth control pills… The last was almost prominently displayed, and my mouth went dry.
Messages don’t get much clearer than that, Peace, my brain pointed out.
It was annoyingly right. I shut off the water and dried my hands quickly. There was unfortunately nothing I could do for the state of my pants right now. The low throb in my groin was slowly starting to build, and I opened the door quickly. Maybe if I could just sit down somewhere…
“Warren, give me a hand?” Monica’s voice drifted out of the bedroom.
Well, no luck there.
Do you even want to have that kind of luck? I think you want to get lucky, not try to be chivalrous… my brain insisted.
I don’t want to do anything stupid, I thought back.
Too late.
I took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom, where Monica was struggling to pin up the side of her new costume, and having an awkward time of it. Her old Painbreaker costume had been heavy black robes, draped to conceal any hint that she was a woman. The new costume, while still not the traditional skin-tight suit and cape, was a lot shorter and more form-fitting. It was a charcoal gray, rather than black, and still had her characteristic mask and cowl, but definitely showed her off a lot more.
Better go help her there Peace; your appreciation is showing.
“I can’t reach this side very well,” she was saying, moving her arm so I could slide pins in along her ribs. My hands were steady, but my breathing was rapidly becoming not. Monica lifted off her cowl and mask to watch what I was doing, checking in the mirror to see the close fit of the new outfit, nodding her head in approval. Her long, dark hair flowed out from under the cowl, the ends of it pouring over my hands. For some reason, that nearly did it, and I jammed a pin in a lot deeper than I intended.
“Ouch,” Monica said, not even flinching, and I was torn between laughing and cursing.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, and yanked it out. She reached down and put one hand on my wrist, and I froze.
“Tell me you’re done being chivalrous,” she said quietly. I swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” I said.
“So am I. I want this,” she said very directly, and slowly began to pull out the other pins.
I blinked at her, sitting back on my heels, as the costume slid off her body. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath other than a black lace bra and panties. Years of hard work to keep herself in shape to run away or fight had given her lean lines and delicate definition. My pants were suddenly excruciatingly painfully confining, and my groin was throbbing hard.
She knelt down next to me, gently shoving me back and up until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. I reached out to touch, wanting to run my hands through her hair, over every inch of her skin, when she captured my hands in her own. Softly, she turned them over, exposing the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, and kissed it, tongue slowly tracing the lines of my tattoos on my right, while her fingers followed the same lines on my left.
“Jesus,” I whispered, head hanging forward, pleasure radiating out from my wrists and hands. Monica knew they were my weak spot, able to bring me to my knees with the right nerve-pinch hold, or to send me flying with a gentle touch. I had so many extra nerves to conduct my fire in my hands that I was half-paralyzed with the pleasure of it.
I wanted to pull her to me, to feel her against me, skin-on-skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. It was only the rising heat within me that made me able to talk. I could feel the fire getting closer and closer to the surface, and Monica had to feel it too.
“Monica,” I said, almost groaning when she delicately stroked a line down my wrist. “Fire, I’m close. I don’t… want to hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me,” she said, pulling her head up to stare into my eyes, her hands now stroking each of mine in tandem.
“I know I can’t hurt you, but I don’t want to burn you,” I gasped, as she traced her nails along my tendons in a teasing tickle.
“You won’t,” she promised, and her hands suddenly left mine, tugging at my shirt instead.
My clothes were off in record time, and I twisted around a bit to finally unhook her bra, seeing all of her for the first time. With her walnut skin she looked like she was carved out of wood, and I looked strangely pale next to her. I quickly moved my hands before she could grab them again, pulling her up next to me and leaning her back on the bed.
I leaned over her, running both hands through her hair, down her neck, over her shoulders, curling naturally around her small breasts, nipples tight and erect. She arched into my hands with a breathy cry, and I could feel a deep surge from my groin that warned me how close I was.
“Warren, want you,” she whispered, and I think we both moved at the same time, me covering her, her opening for me. I hesitated, struggling for control, feeling the heat radiating off of me so much I was surprised she wasn’t scorching already.
“Don’t stop,” she warned, and her hands ran down my back to clench tightly on my ass. She was open and ready, and all I wanted to do was to sink into her. But the fire was so close…
“I don’t want to burn-.”
“You won’t. You can’t,” she insisted, and tightened her legs around me. My cock, straining so hard I thought it might burst right away, sunk into her, driving deep, enveloped in tight, wet flesh. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a minute, positive I was about to come, the throbbing so deep, so fast, so powerful that I didn’t dare twitch. Monica gasped under me as I braced my hands on either side of her body, her head twisting backwards, her expression one of ecstasy.
“Yesss,” she hissed, putting her arms around my neck. I took a few deep breaths, and then hauled her up, sitting so we could face each other, still connected deeply. I felt I had more control that way, and I shifted my hips slightly, groaning deep in my chest at the way I felt inside her. Why the hell had we waited so long?
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of our breathing as we slowly rocked together. I didn’t want it to end, and if I tried anything too fast, I knew I wouldn’t last. Then Monica managed to capture my hands again, her fingers irresistibly tracing along my wrists. The fire that I thought I’d held at bay was suddenly roaring under the surface again, and I gasped in warning.
“Monica, the fire, close.” I wanted to pull away, to keep my lethal flames away from her, but didn’t have the willpower. I couldn’t make myself leave, not when I’d just found heaven.
“You could never burn me,” she said again, her nails scraping delicately along the sensitive skin.
That did it for me, and I could see the fire in my mind’s eye, roaring in triumph. I reached for it, the fire blazing up in an ember-red explosion, a brain-numbing explosion of a different sort happening lower, strength going out of me in pulse after pulse of bliss.
The ember-fire ran through me and into Monica and back again, and I could see her in my mind far more clearly than anyone I’d ever healed. She felt fire-warm against me, and she clutched me tightly. Her nails suddenly dug in hard, hard enough to cut the skin, and though there should have been a brief surge of pain, instead there was a queer feeling of lightness. A sensation like flight, a feeling of well-being and euphoria, as sparkling black energy laced through both of us.
“Monica… what?” I whispered, the red and black energy flowing back and forth between us.
“I don’t, I don’t-,” she stopped, and pressed against me harder, fingers digging in what should have been painfully hard. Instead it only sent me soaring higher. I could still feel myself pulsing within her, not totally spent yet, but reveling in the new sensation.
“God…” she gasped, and pulled my head against her neck, the red fire crawling and swirling over and under her skin. Both our powers had gone a little mad, I realized, showing each other how they felt to the other, letting me feel what she did, and visa versa. I didn’t particularly care the hows or whys, but instead kissed Monica on the neck, sucking tenderly on her smooth skin there.
She clutched my head hard, nearly driving my teeth into her skin, and I resisted slightly, stroking down her back gently.
“Warren, I need-,” she stopped, pushing back against me, bringing us both down from the power-high a little. “Just a little, it’s just me, you can’t hurt me, please, I just need…”
I was feeling what she was, how she felt when her powers were invoked. Pain no longer bothered her; she told me she felt it was life-affirming. Euphoric. And she needed this right now, and in this moment, nothing I could do would hurt her, not with the ember fire engulfing both of us.
Tentatively I set my teeth on her neck and pinched down, and nearly swallowed my tongue when she clenched hard on my cock within her. It was accompanied by another surge of euphoria that sent my head spinning. Monica’s breath was coming in short pants, clearly riding the edge, and they got shorter and shorter as I clamped harder and harder, nearly drawing blood.
“So… close,” she whimpered in ragged little sighs.
“Harder?” I asked, releasing her to search her eyes.
“More,” she gasped, “Everything. Please.”
The ember-fire was still flowing strongly through both of us, or wouldn’t have done it. Right here, right now, there was nothing I could do to harm her. And the promise of the supernova of pleasure that awaited both of us meant I didn’t hesitate. Feeling like a vampire, I savagely bit down on her throat, tasting blood only for the tiniest of instants before fire roared up through her skin and down my throat. My vision went white as we soared high together, bodies, minds, and powers intertwined, exploding and twisting and imploding, screams and sobs echoing in both our ears until finally, some eons later, we returned to Earth.
I struggled out of semi-consciousness, slowly pulling myself out of Monica so I could hold her against me. I brushed her hair away from the side of her neck, amazed that there wasn’t even a scar. I didn’t even feel disturbed at what I’d done. I’d known there was no danger, and I wasn’t trying to hurt Monica. I’d been trying to make her feel good; and for the powers she had, either extreme of feeling worked for her. And for me too. I hadn’t ever felt like that before in my life. I knew exactly how she felt when she used her powers, and it only made me understand her on a level I hadn’t thought possible.
“That wasn’t too weird, was it?” she asked softly, eyes still closed.
“If by weird you mean, ‘absolutely mind-blowing,’ then no. It was exactly weird enough,” I said, curling one hand around her stomach. I could feel her laughing as she tried to stifle the sound, and I smiled against her hair.
“Weird enough,” she repeated, snorting.
“I love you,” I said, my hand slowly running down her arm.
“I love you too,” she said, turning to face me, crushing us together. “Always.”