“You’d guess right.”
Robbie nodded. He sat in silence for a minute, probably processing everything. “What’s your power?”
“Speed. And stopping. Never underestimate the importance of stopping.” Keen risked a smile, and felt elated when Robbie returned it.
“No. I suppose I shouldn’t. Can you fly?”
“Only as an extension of my speed. I’m not any stronger than a regular person, either.”
“How did you end up temping? Do you not make enough as a superhero?”
Keen winced. “Actually, it was punishment. I got put on administrative leave.”
“Superheroes have that?”
“Apparently. Robbie—” Now that the confession had started, he wanted to get everything out while Robbie was willing to listen. “The explosion at the bank robbery was my fault.”
“What?”
“I went through the wall. I had a plan to grab the bad guys, but the second I broke through, the explosion happened.”
“I’d be dead if you hadn’t.” He touched Keen’s leg. “And without it we wouldn’t have met.”
Keen succumbed to the emotion that welled in him over that statement. He pulled himself back together with renewed resolution to be better for Robbie. “I can show you my powers. Give me your keys. I’ll get something from your apartment. Be back in two seconds.”
Robbie pushed on Keen’s leg, keeping him seated. “Haven’t I seen you doing things all along and not known? I should have been smart and figured out those guys weren’t dropping their weapons and running away because of me. I was blinded by it, I guess. Who doesn’t want to be a superhero when he grows up?” He glanced at Keen. “See? You’re not raising your hand.”
Keen tucked his hands between his knees and hunched over. “I wanted to be like my dad.”
“Javier Haabe. You must’ve thought I was an insensitive dick after what I said in the hospital, offering you my comics to read. I should have figured it out.” Robbie sounded miserable.
“It’s okay. It was never in the comics that he had kids.”
“Kids?”
“I have a brother.”
Robbie rubbed Keen’s back. Keen swallowed against the knot of tears growing in his throat. He’d expected Robbie to storm off. Instead, he stayed, throwing off Keen’s plan for dissolving into his own grief and stupidity. The tears were harder to keep back because of this glimmer of hope.
“I can’t save you from bad guys, but I can tell you whatever you want to hear.” He put his arm around Keen’s shoulders. “And I’ll keep you close and promise to always watch out for you when you’re not out saving humanity. How’s that sound?”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“No. I’m not. So, what’s your uniform like? Because your friends have some interesting ones.”
Keen brightened. “I designed it myself. Want to see?” He took off to change. He bruised his shin on his bed and tripped in his closet, pulling half his uniforms down with him, but he changed and returned to catch the end of Robbie’s “Sure.”
Keen put his fists on his hips and did his best pose. Robbie grabbed him by the elbow and frog marched Keen deeper into the park where more trees offered better shelter from the city.
“Is something wrong? Don’t you like…?” Robbie shoved Keen against a tree and attacked him with his mouth. “Oh,” Keen said in the half second before Robbie descended on him again. He clutched Robbie’s shoulders and hooked one leg over his hip. Robbie hoisted up his other one and wrapped Keen’s legs around his waist. Keen clung on, back pressed to rough bark, but he was too busy tending to the sensation of Robbie’s fingers in his hair and on his bottom to care.
“Home, now,” Keen said. “Mine.”
“Don’t suppose you can get us both there?”
“Not unless you want to end up bruised and unconscious. And on fire.”
“Not until the end of the evening.” Robbie kissed behind Keen’s ear.
Keen regretted his limits less when Robbie taught him what fun could be had in the back of a cab. The driver kicked them out three blocks from Keen’s address, and Keen coaxed Robbie into a run. They made it up to his apartment, panting and laughing. Keen shut the door, resisting Robbie enough to hear it latch, before giving in to his tugging. Robbie tossed Keen onto the bed on his back, said, “Leave it on,” when Keen fiddled with his belt, and flung himself down on top. His knee nudged between Keen’s legs, forcing them open. He laid delicious pressure over Keen’s cock. “You’ve got another one, right?” Robbie asked, tugging on Keen’s tights.
“Tons,” Keen said.
Robbie grinned, grabbed hold, and ripped.
Keen blinked. “Those are supposed to resist anything.”
“You didn’t test them against a horny boyfriend.” Robbie dove for Keen’s crotch and mouthed over his trunks. Keen put pressure on his shoulder. “What?” Robbie asked.
“I do love you, you know.”
“Well, yeah. ’Course.”
Keen hauled Robbie up for a kiss. They shared a moment of tenderness before Robbie got back down to business. He pulled Keen’s cock out, shoving Keen’s trunks and tights below his balls, and swallowed Keen down with enthusiasm usually reserved for chocolate desserts. Keen erupted like a teenager, all flash and no substance. Robbie kissed Keen again, and flipped him over. By the time Robbie slid his lubed and condomed cock in, Keen was hard again, panting, and up on his hands and knees, pushing backward, saying words that made him blush under other circumstances. Robbie petted his back. “Got you,” he said, and thrust in. Keen arched backwards, wanting Robbie’s mouth. Robbie met him halfway, tangled his fingers through Keen’s mess of hair, held their lips together as he rode him.
Robbie collapsed on him a few minutes later. Keen had come again, and fell into the cooling mess. He shifted, managing to spread it around his stomach rather than escape it. “Hmm,” Robbie said. Keen heard the snap and slide of the condom coming off and then sailing across the room. Robbie settled down on Keen’s back, snuggling in close.
“We should tell Jasper,” Keen said, “so he can add you to the holiday invites.”
A deep snore answered him. He’d have to tell Robbie about Jasper and his complicated family history later. Keen turned over and played with Robbie’s short hair until he drifted off too. In the morning, he woke wrapped in Robbie’s arms. Snuggling down with him, Keen smiled against Robbie’s chest. Robbie stirred and kissed him on the top of his head, tightening his embrace. Keen tilted his head up and kissed Robbie’s chin. He felt good. Safe. Protected.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RYAN LOVELESS is a farmer’s daughter. She has a B.A. in English from a private college in Illinois and a master’s degree in library and information science, with an archival certificate from a university in New York. Raised in a conservative family, she was shocked and relieved when her coming out was largely uneventful. She has been writing since she could read, and has always drifted towards M/M because she enjoyed the relationship dynamics. It’s possible that her first story was about G.I. Joe. She wishes she still had that story.
Visit Ryan at her blog: http://ryanloveless.dreamwidth.org, on Facebook: http://facebook.com/ryanlovelessbooks, or at twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ryanloveless.
Collision Vector
I
“WE’RE on the ground,” Captain Vector reported into his headset. He glanced to either side, making sure the four other members of his team were around him. Then he adjusted his new bodysuit, tugging at the fabric. The suit was white with an electric blue chevron forming a V from his broad shoulders down his chest, and another one on his back, pointing at his ass.
“Stop fidgeting, Cap.” Lockdown stepped up beside him. Lockdown’s bodysuit was black, with pink piping and accent padding. And no chevrons pointing at his privates.
“This new material feels like I’m hardly wearing anything. I feel naked. At least you get an overcoat.” Vector ignored the intimate memories of
the body hiding under the heavy coat. He didn’t need his anatomy doing things the suit wouldn’t hide.
Lockdown growled. “Fucking costume designers. At least it’s mostly black this time. And isn’t riding up my ass. Unlike yours.”
“Your ass is fine, sugar. What are we dealing with?” Geo—Georgia—stepped up beside them in a comfortable gown of brown and green patterned to look like tree trunks. Vector agreed with her assessment of Lockdown’s ass. It was a pity the overcoat obscured his lover’s trim physique.
“Looks like another one of Professor Offal’s junkyard golems. With a side order of minions.” Spectreum, master of the light spectrum and voted “superhero most likely to never get a date” picked something off his teeth. “And can we please talk about something besides V’s ass?”
“Absolutely. Jitter?” Captain Vector—Kevin Quinn as he was known outside the hero suit—turned to the last member of the team.
Jitterbug was rolling her eyes at Spectreum, but her delicate dragonfly wings were already unfurling from her back. “Minion duty?”
“You are the best at what you do.” Kevin smiled at her.
She threw him a wink. “Just keep Sammy out of range this time.”
Spectreum dodged Jitter’s pointed boot before it grazed his head. “It was only once!” he called after Jitterbug as she flew away.
“Calm down, Sam. Sorry: Spectre. We need to get these apartment buildings cleared. You and Geo….” Kevin huffed out his annoyance. Eight months and eleven days until his contract was up for renewal and he didn’t have to second guess who he paired up with in the field. Locke met his eyes and gave him a slight nod of understanding. “Spectreum, you and Lockdown take that one. Geo and I will take this one.”
“Is evacuation really necessary?” They all rolled their eyes at the new voice in their ear pieces.
“Marlene, we agreed you’d let me make decisions in the field.” Kevin turned and scanned the sky for the tiny telemetry drones feeding video and data to Marlene and her team of technicians and analysts back at the HUB.
“Yes, Captain, but evacuation usually means you expect property damage, and that costs money. Can you not avoid such a situation?”
“We’re dealing with what looks like a four-story-plus junk golem. And who knows what refinements Offal has added this time. I think if we get out of here without property damage, it will be a miracle.”
“Fine. But do your best to keep collateral damage minimal.”
“No promises.”
Vector made to push off from the ground when music hit his hearing. He turned to where Jitterbug was dancing on air near the golem, inciting the surrounding minions to flailing dance-like movements. The resulting injuries were an effective method of getting the cannon fodder out of the way.
“Is that… ‘Bad Romance’? Please tell me it’s not.” Lockdown had a pleading look on his face.
Kevin pushed up his blue-lensed designer goggles to rub at his nose. “At least she stopped using ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’.”
Geo chuckled, leaning on her staff. “I swear. You two are the worst gay men on the face of the planet.”
“People!” All of them jumped and clapped a hand to their ears at Marlene’s shout and the following squeal of static. “Don’t we have work to do?”
“LOCKDOWN! Shield!” Kevin’s heart leapt as the construct’s fist, which at one point had been a Buick, connected with Lockdown’s slim figure and sent him spinning through the air. But a pink energy bubble had snapped into place before contact was made, and the probability arc related to Lockdown’s trajectory predicted him surviving in all scenarios.
Kevin turned back to the lumbering construct, a golem made of the city. He identified dumpsters and cars and street signs making up the lumpy, humanoid shape.
He dodged one swinging blow, darting back several meters in the air. There had to be some sort of engine at the center of it, driving its motion and animating the collection of detritus.
“Vector? What are you doing?” Jitterbug sounded annoyed.
“It’s Captain, now.” Marlene’s voice crackled in their ears, reminding them who was really in charge.
“I’m calculating. Make it try and hit you again.”
Jitterbug threw him a rude gesture, but buzzed in close to the golem and peppered the construct with shots from her wrist cannons.
The golem’s arm raised, the Buick-fist clenched, and Vector grinned. Formulas ran through his head: Force. Mass. Energy.
Shear along the line where two metal plates joined.
He pushed against the air, swam up into the golem’s armpit under the swinging metallic haymaker, and drew back for a punch on the weak point he’d identified.
“Vector, drop!”
Trusting Locke, Kevin pushed off with his feet, executed a backward tuck, and dove toward the ground. Something moved fast across his vision, followed by a deafening metallic clang. Vector couldn’t see the shockwave the impact produced, but its effect on his own body had equations rising off his skin.
“What was that?” he hollered, at the same time as Marlene scolded, “Are the aerial acrobatics necessary, Captain?”
“They’re second nature, and you’re distracting me. Locke, what was—”
That’s when the thing chose to clap him between both hands, as if he’d been little more than a fly.
“Fucker!” Kevin tried to push the metal fists apart, but he couldn’t find leverage. Some bit of metal had punctured his back and was not allowing him to move.
“Captain?” his earpiece crackled.
“Alive. I don’t have enough room to swing. And it feels like there’s a clutch in my kidney.”
“Ow.”
“Hang on, darlin’, we’ll get you out.”
Georgia’s genteel southern drawl belied the druid’s underlying wildness. It was a matter of moments before Kevin heard something roar, and one of the hands trapping him pulled away.
He gripped the hand in front of him (rather, the axle of the automobile comprising that hand) and let himself be dragged away from whatever had punctured his back. The wound started closing as soon as the metal cleared his flesh and Kevin clung where he was, taking as long as he could to heal.
“You all right?” Locke sounded breathless.
“Fine. For a carburetor waffle.”
“Could use your help, darlin’.”
Kevin pushed free of the swinging hand so he was hovering again. The diversion of energy stopped the healing of his back, but it felt knitted back together enough so he could finish the fight. “Lockdown?”
“Here, boss.”
“Can you get a read on what’s powering this thing?” Kevin dropped back out of range, making sure he had a visual of each of his team members.
Jitter hovered near the ground, supporting Geo and taking care of the last of the minions. Lockdown and Spectreum were both airborne, taking potshots at the construct to distract it from whatever Georgia was trying to do.
“I can, but it’s… icky.”
“‘Icky’, Locke? Really?”
Even across the intervening space, Kevin felt the sharpness of his lover’s gaze.
“It wouldn’t be the first time Offal mixed magic in with his science. You know magic makes my skills go all wonky. Tar Baby Special,” Locke called out as the construct swung.
A pink stasis bubble appeared around the construct’s metal wrist, stopping it mid-swing. Vector dove in and landed a hard punch on the weakest point he could identify in the joint, weakened further by the momentum of four stories of junk behind the interrupted punch.
Spectreum crowed when the forearm came off, disintegrating into its component parts. “Nice, one, V-man!”
“V-man? What about me?” Locke sent an energy bubble whizzing towards Spectreum.
“Interesting.” Geo’s alto voice was low in his ear. “Separated from the body, the pieces return to their natural state.”
“But that traffic sign flew up to attach itself
to where Captain was gonna punch,” Jitter pointed out.
Kevin took a cleansing breath and concentrated on the construct. The weak junction he’d identified earlier was shielded now, covered by a thick sheet of metal. That’s what the thing flying over his head had been.
“What if the added shielding wasn’t the construct? What if there’s something else here, guiding it?” Jitter mused.
“That’s a definite possibility….”
“Locke, you pickin’ up anything?”
“We’re not supposed to talk about Lockey’s mental mojo,” Spectreum reminded them.
“Thanks, Sam.” The gratitude was accented by an extended middle finger. “There’s been a couple emotional spikes, but nothing I can separate from the general background….”
“Jitter, Geo, move!”
The construct swung a fist down at the pair on the ground. But doing so exposed its back to Kevin. He found footing on solid air and propelled himself in a high arc, then dove down toward the thing’s back.
Kevin’s eyes flicked over where the various pieces forming the golem connected. Calculations blossomed as the superstructure shifted, evaluating strength and stress points. Options were identified, analyzed, and tossed aside.
There.
Right there.
Weak point.
Vector changed the angle of his descent, pulled back and swung his fist forward, right onto the junction he’d identified. The golem shuddered and halted. The massive head swiveled toward him, and one large arm swung up and back to swat him off. Kevin pulled back, gathered all the energy he could spare into the point of his fist, and drove it into the weak point.
The energy distributed into the stress point and metal popped and fractured. Kevin threw himself back out of the way with a satisfied smirk. The entire back plate and part of the golem’s side fell off, reverting to dumpsters and parking meters and a refrigerator on the way to the ground.
Jitter zipped up and tossed something into the hole. “Geo, go!”
Men of Steel Page 7
