Men of Steel

by Ryan Loveless

  “Ow.” He rubbed his hand, the hairs still standing on end. “Please turn that off, Locke.”

  “Answer the question.” Locke’s eyes were flat and dark, his lower jaw thrust forward and set hard.

  Kevin sat on the arm of the sofa. “Yes. It’s a huge deal now. Massive.”

  “I watched the recordings.” Locke lowered the volume on the TV, but didn’t shut it off. Channels flicked by in rapid succession. “Your back broke again when that thing hit you. Didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but don’t change the subject.”

  “Don’t change the subject?” Kevin flinched as the remote hit him in the chest. “That is the fucking subject, Kevin! Your back got broken, you spent three hours in a hole under a fucking ton of rubble, and I’m supposed to act like it’s no big deal!”

  Locke twisted away, striding to the far wall. “I’ve never hidden who I am, Kevin. Never. And now I have to. Because of some stupid paper you signed before you even met me. How am I supposed to live like this, Kevin? No.” His hands slashed out to either side. “I won’t live like this. I won’t. I refuse.”

  “Locke.” Kevin vaulted over the couch, predicted which course Locke was most liable to take toward the office door, and planted himself there. The look on Locke’s face as he drew up short said that he’d figured out Kevin had just run odds on him. “Please.”

  “Is that all you can say? Get the fuck out of the way.”

  “Locke.” Kevin pushed forward, placing his hands on the shorter man’s chest. “I’m sorry things are like this. I’m sorry I signed the contract. I didn’t know when I signed it that I was going to fall in love with you.”

  Locke’s face scrunched up, but something around the eyes softened. “Say that again.”

  “I’m sorry I signed the contract.”

  “No, not that. The next part.”

  Kevin allowed himself a smile. “I didn’t know when I signed it, I was going to fall in love with you.”

  Locke sighed, and one long-fingered hand came up to stroke over Kevin’s collarbone. “How much longer?”

  “Eight months, one week, three days.”

  “So vague?” Locke rolled his eyes. “Be more exact next time.”

  “Eight months, one week, three days, six hours, twenty-eight minutes, forty-seven seconds….” Fingers covered Kevin’s mouth.

  “I was kidding,” Locke’s lips twisted. “I’m still pissed.”

  Kevin smiled, kissing the pads of Locke’s fingers. “Noted.”

  “Were you going to tell me you broke your back again?”

  “It healed. I had Doctor Merino check it out when we got back to the HUB.”

  “Now who’s avoiding the question?”

  “I didn’t avoid the question, you changed the subject. Wait.” Kevin squinted at the far wall. “I’m confused. Did I just defend you or accuse you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re arguing, so I’m automatically right. Go finish drying the dishes.” Locke pecked a quick kiss on Kevin’s jaw before returning to the sofa. “And before you sign anything else, I’ll have one of Mother’s lawyers read through it.”

  Kevin retrieved the dishtowel and the sudsy frying pan. “Locke, something you said earlier. About never hiding yourself.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wouldn’t coming out to your mother have been kind of pointless? She is a psychic.” Kevin rinsed off the pan, started drying it, and didn’t comment on the remaining dirty dishes.

  “Even psychics can live in denial, love.”

  “At least she’s over it now?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Kevin looked over to see Locke peering at him over the back of the couch. “Okay, well—she was at least civil to me the last time we went over for dinner. I do wish she liked me a little better.”

  “My mother adores you, Kevin. She’d just prefer I wasn’t sleeping with you.”

  “If her bribing me to leave you or her threats to brainwash me are her adoring me? I’m glad I’m not on her bad side. Do I dare ask what she would prefer?”

  “That you were making babies with one of my sisters.”

  “Eew.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kevin finished drying the dishes in silence, his tuneless humming drowned out by whatever true crime show Locke was watching on the TV.

  The dried dishes put away, Kevin contemplated the remaining items to be washed, and then the stocking foot thrust over the arm of the couch. He knew which would be more fun. Kevin flicked himself into the air, hovered long enough for Locke to glance up and spot him, and then let himself fall onto his lover.

  “Hi.” Kevin grinned down at Locke and pecked a kiss on his blunt nose.

  “Get off! I’m watching TV!” Locke squirmed, but Kevin exerted just a little bit of power to keep his tackled lover pinned to the couch.

  “You’ve probably seen it before.” He bent in, smothering Locke’s protest. Locke’s body struggled, but his mouth opened eagerly.

  Kevin closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the room and concentrating on the force and vectors and energy exchange of a kiss. Equations floated up from the contact, mathematical dandelion seeds behind his eyelids. He examined the unpredictable brush of tongues and worked on the data model for what actions would provoke Locke to nip at his lips.

  “You’re reducing our kisses to math again, aren’t you?”

  “Elevating,” Kevin corrected.

  “You are so weird.”

  Kevin rested his forehead in the crook of Locke’s neck. “I love you, Locke. Please, if you can hold out until my contract expires, we’ll make sure it works out. Even if I have to go back to teaching high school.”

  “Ugh. Don’t even joke about that, Kev.” Locke stared at the ceiling, rubbing at his face with one hand.

  “I’m not joking. I mean it, Locke. If that’s what it takes for us to be together, that’s what I’ll do.”

  They shifted so they lay on the sofa cushions facing each other. Locke’s finger ran over Kevin’s lips, leaving static tingles in its wake.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Absolutely.” Kevin sealed it with a kiss. “Do you think you can man up for the next eight months?”

  Locke blinked and pulled back. “Man up? Did you just tell me to ‘man up’?”

  Kevin opened his mouth to reply, but jerked at the twin static shocks to his nipples. “Maybe?” he managed to squeak out.

  “You are so fucking sleeping on the couch.”

  Kevin jerked again as energy bubbles snapped into place around each wrist and ankle, dragging his arms up over his head.

  Locke pushed his shirt up, exposing his ribs, and Kevin had the good sense to be scared. “Fuck, Locke, please no. I’m sorry. Fuck!”

  It was too late.

  Fingers and tiny energy bubbles were applied to his skin, alternatively tickling and shocking. Kevin howled, tears running down his cheeks as he pitched his torso back and forth, unable to completely pull away due to Locke’s makeshift restraints.

  “I’m sorry!” Kevin heard the hysterical note in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it.

  “You’re also crying like a bitch.”

  The restraints popped and Kevin flopped back into the sofa cushions, panting.

  “Fuck, I hate when you do that.” Kevin groaned, bringing his hands up to run over his aching ribs. With all the twisting and thrashing, he’d probably pulled something.

  “Then you shouldn’t piss me off.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive about your masculinity.” Kevin knew he was pushing, and grinned as he did it. Static bubbles popped over his nipples, making him yelp and laugh.

  “It’s not my fucking fault my energy bubbles are pink! You know I’ve tried to change the color. I’ve been trying my whole life.” Locke stood by the end of the sofa, one finger out.

  Kevin pulled off his T-shirt and stretched, arching his back up. He knew the movement showed off his chest and the smooth abs diving dow
n into his jeans. “They’re more bright violet than pink.”

  “Yes, that’s so helpful, Kevin. Thank you.” Locke turned his back as he rolled his eyes. “I just wish the stupid costume designers didn’t feel compelled to roll with the theme.” He continued toward the kitchen.

  Kevin yanked his jeans off and fumbled under the couch for the bottle of lube.

  “I’d much rather have your colors. Could you not finish the dishes?” Something splashed in the sink.

  Kevin slicked up his hands, propped one foot on the back of the sofa and started fingering himself.

  “You let the water go cold. I’m not sure I like this new suit design. Those arrows and those darker side panels are designed to show off your ass.”

  “What’s wrong with my ass?” Kevin thought nothing was wrong with it, personally. At the moment it was hot and tight around his probing finger. He sucked his bottom lip and enjoyed the stretch as he pushed in deeper.

  “Other people looking at it. My ass is just as good as yours, but you don’t see them putting big arrows pointing at it. Not that anyone can see it under that armored coat.”

  “Gotta keep you safe, babe. You need protection out in the field.” Kevin pressed his head back into the arm of the couch. He’d finally worked his ass loose enough so he could get a second finger in. He started slowly fucking himself with his fingers.

  “And you need protection at home. From me. If you keep pulling stupid shit like….” Locke’s voice trailed off. Kevin opened his eyes to find his lover, wet dishrag in one hand, dirty plate in the other, staring at him. Kevin arched up and spread his legs, showing off what he was doing.

  His free hand reached down to slowly stroke his thickening cock and an eager bit of precome spilled out of the tip. He caught it on his thumb, watched the liquid stretch, equations for surface tension popping up in his awareness before it finally snapped. He brought the small bead up to his lips and licked it off the pad of his thumb.

  “Oh. God.”

  The plate and dishrag got thrown toward the sink. Locke yanked off his T-shirt and socks, pulling the tank top up to latch behind his head.

  Energy bubbles formed around Kevin’s knees, pushing them up and back. He let his hands fall to the sides, humming happily.

  Locke clambered over the far arm of the couch, and then his hands were on Kevin’s ass, digging into the muscle, holding him steady as a warm tongue swiped into Kevin’s loosened hole.

  “You can buy as much of this edible lube as you want,” Locke paused his licking long enough to say.

  “Glad you like it, babe.” Kevin shifted his shoulders into a more comfortable position. “But your tongue isn’t what I intended to have up there.”

  “Yeah? What’d you intend?” The bubbles had released somewhat, and Locke was taking the weight of Kevin’s lower body against his own legs.

  “That nice, pretty cock of yours.”

  “Pretty? Why is it always pretty? Never manly or studly, but pretty. Would you like me to put a pretty pink condom on it, too? A little bow? Braid my crotch hair?”

  Kevin wrapped his legs around Locke’s bare midriff and tugged. “Sometimes you talk more than Jitter does. Put your face back in my ass or fuck me, but either way, shut up.”

  Locke struggled, trying to break the grip of Kevin’s thighs. “Maybe you spoiled the mood, insinuating I’m not man enough for you.”

  Kevin grabbed Locke’s biceps and hauled him forward. Locke’s hands splayed on his chest, but his lover didn’t try to push away. “I love you,” he kissed the words into Locke’s lips. “You are my man, and you are manly, and I want my man to pound my ass so hard I’m still feeling it on Friday.”

  Locke pulled back, Kevin’s lip between his teeth. “With your healing factor, you won’t even be sore at bedtime.”

  “I think that theory deserves testing.”

  Locke glared for a moment, but then they both moved, neither quite able to find the right position for legs and arms that allowed them to fit together.

  Pink energy flared, Kevin found himself arched back and lifted up, one leg bent to the side, and Locke slammed home in his ass.

  “Damn, you’re tight.”

  “Fuck, your cock is huge.” Kevin pressed his head back into the arm of the couch and concentrated on breathing and relaxing. Healing factor or no, it still took a moment to adjust to the penetration.

  “You ready?” Locke didn’t wait, just pulled his hips back and jabbed them forward again.

  As usual, his angle was perfect, and Kevin howled and clenched as Locke’s prick nailed his prostate. “Fucker!”

  Locke bent forward, braced his arms and snapped his hips back and forth.

  Kevin gasped, groaned, and forced his eyes to stay open. This was the time, the only time, when the equations that defined, well, everything, went away. This joining of them, the intimate collision of two bodies, should have been rife with equations. But the function tracing the curve of Locke’s back into his ass vanished. As did the one about the circumference of his nipple.

  The data table cataloguing the force and depth of each hip thrust melted out of view.

  The probability lines for where the sweat drops starting to run down Locke’s chest would go evaporated along with the drops in question.

  Kevin hooked one ankle over the back of the couch. Locke pressed his other leg into his chest. Kevin eyed the statistics about how often Locke licked his lips, but it went away before a predictive equation materialized.

  There was a sharp buzz from the coffee table and Locke’s thrusting hips lost their rhythm.

  The equations popped back into existence and Kevin threw his hands over his face. “What?” His voice sounded hoarse. Had he been shouting?

  “Your phone’s gone off three times. That’s mine. Someone’s desperate to get a hold of us.”

  Kevin whined deep in his throat. “Ten minutes?” He clenched his ass around the intruding cock and tried to fuck himself on it. “Five? Please, Locke?”

  Locke put a hand in the center of his chest to still him. A pink bubble catapulted the phone into Locke’s grasp. “Hello?”

  Kevin pressed the heel of each hand firmly over his eyes.

  “Mr. Marsh. I’m trying to reach Mr. Quinn.” The phone was on speaker, Marlene’s voice loud and clear.

  “I’m here.” Kevin only belatedly cleared his throat.

  “You have an interview with Miss Poulson tomorrow morning in the studio. I’ve sent the details along with the usual prepared questions and answers to your inbox.”

  “Thanks.” Kevin tried to grab the phone. It should be off. Locke should be fucking him. They should not be having this discussion right now.

  “What are you saying about the kiss?” Locke’s gaze was steady and Kevin couldn’t look away.

  “We’re going to call it unexpected on the Captain’s part. Have him say that he was aware of your attraction, but hadn’t done anything to encourage it and was unaware of how deep it truly ran.”

  “That’s a lie.” Locke was sitting back on his haunches. Kevin whimpered at the feeling of his lover’s cock slipping out of him. He shot his hand out to grab Locke’s hip and keep him from pulling further away.

  “It is a lie, but it’s one that allows me to not take Mr. Quinn to court for breach of contract.” Marlene’s voice actually seemed to hold a note of reason. It was probably the distortion from the speakerphone.

  “If Mr. Quinn remains adamant in his decision to come out….”

  “I will.” Kevin lifted his head when he felt fingers lace through his own.

  “If that is the case, then this will also lay the groundwork for making your relationship public. They already suspect Lockdown is gay….”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You are rather slender for a man, and your costume has pink accents on it, Mr. Marsh.”

  “I cannot help the color of my powers nor my metabolism. And as for the costume? Your marketing team insisted on the pin
k. Bitch.”

  “Mr. Marsh!”

  “Spectreum is twice as swishy as I am, and he’s straight.”

  “We’re off course, gentlemen.”

  “Marlene, thank you for the notice. I’ll look the script over in a bit and let you know if I have any questions.” Kevin was surprised at how normal his voice sounded. “Anything else?”

  “We should discuss the telemetry iss—”

  “Nope.” Kevin grabbed the phone, found and pressed the power button, and tossed it over the back of the couch.

  Locke moved forward again and Kevin grunted happily, spreading his legs. “Why did you answer that?”

  “It might have been important. It was, kind of.”

  “Kind of.” Locke hadn’t released his hand and Kevin squeezed it as he was filled again. Already the equations were dimming, some of them fading entirely. This was the only time, and Locke was the only man that it ever happened with.

  “I don’t trust her, Kevin.” Locke rocked slowly, getting them both warmed back up.

  “Hmm?”

  “Marlene. I don’t trust her. She gave in too easily.”

  “I don’t care right now.”

  “You should. I wouldn’t put it past her to do something. To try and make you change your mind.”

  Kevin adjusted his legs, crossing them behind Locke’s ass and pulling his lover forward. “Can this wait thirty minutes? Please?”

  Locke opened his mouth to speak.

  “I need you, Locke. Right now. Just us.” Kevin pecked soft kisses up the arch of Locke’s throat. “Please?”

  Locke growled, bent him backward, and claimed him.

  Kevin howled, feeling the smack of Locke’s hips through his whole body. The fucking drove him breathless, drove first his precome and then his orgasm out of his cock, splattering down between them.

  Locke rolled him onto his side, one leg angled up across Locke’s chest as the slim superhero kept thrusting at him. Kevin planted his hands on the arm of the sofa and pushed back, clenching his ass every time Locke pulled away, relaxing when Locke thrust in. He wanted the man deep, as far inside him as possible.

  “I’m sorry.” Kevin reached one hand up to rub at Locke’s chest.