The Supers of Project 12: The Complete Superhero Series

by Angel Lawson

  “Clean this up tomorrow?” Owen asks, breaking him from his thoughts. The man is shirtless and in boxer briefs and has never looked more comfortable. Draco, on the other hand, still has on an undershirt and his jeans.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he replies. Quinn stretches out on the couch, surprisingly lightweight when it comes to alcohol. He holds his fist up and Owen tags it in solidarity. He, too, is stripped down and the hard lines of his fit body relax into the couch.

  The friendship between these men intrigues him almost as much as Astrid.

  Owen, more perceptive than he imagines, says, “It’s okay to want her, and frankly, it’s okay to give in and be with her. It’s a little strange at first, maybe, but it’s also what she wants.”

  “Yeah?” Draco looks up the stairs, eyes following her path.

  “We had to deal with our own jealousies and possessiveness.”

  This surprises him. “Really? You all seem so…okay with everything.”

  “Rowe flirted with her during his training and I almost ripped his head off. I went batshit,” Quinn admits.

  Owen nods and jerks his thumb at his friend. “And this guy? Wow. I knew he’d been with her and then she was flirting with me and my head was a mess. Damn I wanted her. So much, and finally I just accepted it was what she needed.”

  “Needed,” Draco repeats with understanding.

  “She needs us, man. She needs the bond,” Quinn says before yawning. “And you won’t believe how much you need that connection, too.”

  “And it’s not weird,” he asks, slowly coming around.

  “Nope. Not weird,” Quinn says.

  “It’s fucking awesome,” Owen adds, stretching his arms over his head. He grabs his shirt off the floor and tugs it over his head.

  “Night,” Quinn says, clearly prepared to sleep on the couch. His eyes are already closed before they reach the stairs.

  Draco follows Owen up, considering everything through the hazy fog of drunkenness. Tomorrow he’ll probably forget the entire conversation, but right now, as he parts from the other man in the hallway and closes his own door behind him, he thinks escalating his relationship with Astrid sooner than later is a really good idea.

  *

  Even after the late-night drinking, Draco’s up before the sun rises. He pulls on his shoes and jacket, heading for the front porch. There’s a trail around the lake he wants to explore. The dirt is soft under his shoes, and he inhales the clean mountain air. The lake water is unbelievably clear. He’s glad they came up here; he needed a break.

  And no, he hadn’t forgotten his talk with Owen and Quinn the night before, or the way Astrid looked in her lacy underwear. That image is seared in his mind.

  He’s halfway around the lake when he hears the thud of footsteps on the trail. His senses kick in and he slips behind a tree. With Rowe on the loose, he’s not taking any chances. He waits but the footsteps slow, then stop altogether. For a minute he thinks they’ve turned around or maybe he made it up, but then he catches the snap of a twig.

  Surprise is always the best mode of attack and when he jumps into the path, a shadow slams into him.

  “Oof,” he cries, a fist slamming him in the nose. Then an elbow, sharp and pointed, in the gut. “Ugh.”

  He grapples with the flash of black and snatches the hands out of the air.

  “Draco?”

  He blinks.

  “Damn, Astrid. What the hell?”

  “Oh my god, your face. What did I do to your face?”

  He winces where Astrid pummeled his side. “Don’t forget my stomach.”

  Her hands reach for him, touching him gently on the cheek. “I could hear your heartbeat and I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I get too in my head when I run I guess. I was close before I realized it and then you jumped out at me and I’m so sorry.”

  Her hands are cool and feel like a salve against his heated skin. She drops them and touches the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric to reveal his stomach. His abs peek out and her blue-green eyes drink them in.

  “Where?” she asks, touching the skin. It doesn’t hurt that bad, but he keeps that information to himself. Any excuse.

  Her hands splay over his stomach, then flip, brushing the back of her fingers against the hair beneath his belly button. He swallows and meets her eyes, loving the fire he sees in them. She tilts her head and says, “What’s going on? In your head? I sense something.”

  He responds by slipping a hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. Her body folds into his and he holds her up at the waist, dragging her closer. She’s sweaty from her run, her lips tasting like salt. But what he loves is that she doesn’t hold back. Not even for a moment. She wants this. Him. And finally, he can admit he does too.

  Flipping her around, he presses her back against a tree, using one hand to brace himself against the damp bark and another to hold her at her hip. His hips push into her, damn he’s already so, fucking, hard.

  Astrid’s fingers dip in the waistband of his shorts and he squirms, ready to explode. She breathes into his mouth, teeth tugging at his lip, deep groans echoing in her chest. All of it. It’s too much and not nearly enough.

  “I want you,” he whispers. “Now. Right, fucking, now.”

  She nods vigorously.

  “I’m tired of waiting. I’m in,” he tells her. “Totally in.”

  She cups him through his shorts and he trembles in response. This brings a smile to her face. “So sensitive, so big.”

  He runs his fingers over her breasts, the peaks of her nipples rising as if on command. “I can say the same to you.”

  They’re heightened. Every part of their bodies. Skin, mouths, tongues. He pulls at the waistband of her running tights when a stick snaps behind him and he jerks away, glancing backwards.

  “What?” Astrid asks.

  “Nothing.” He’s prepared to kiss it away, tugging at the god-forsaken pants, but her forehead furrows and she’s searching the woods behind him.

  Leaves shiver on a bush and he mutters, “If that’s Owen or Quinn, I’m gonna kill them,” and he stalks toward the bush, cock hard between his legs. He spots black steel before anything else and fear paralyzes his heart.

  Draco the wanna-be lover vanishes, and Draco the Super rises and he lunges for the object faster than conceivably possible. In a split-second the gun is in one hand the neck of its owner is in another. He holds the scrawny man a foot off the ground. The man cries and grapples at his neck.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” Draco roars, inches from his face.

  “H-hunting,” he man says, fearfully. He eyes Draco’s bulging bicep that’s as big as his head. “Just hunting. Rabbits.”

  He’s dressed the part. Army-green pants, camouflage vest with a matching hat. He’s small and a little older; thinning gray hair.

  “This is private property,” Astrid says, coming from behind. The man looks at her and flinches. Yeah, she’s terrifying when she wants to be.

  “I know, I—” He points to where Draco is holding him. “Can you put me down?”

  Still holding the rifle, Draco drops him. “Don’t make a move.” He nods at Astrid. “Or she’ll kick your ass.”

  The man nods. “Like I said, just out here hunting. I know it’s private property but no one is ever up here. I live in town and it’s been years since anyone has been up at the lodge. That makes the game plentiful and I figured it wouldn’t hurt…” He swallows. “I heard movement. I thought I’d caught my prey. Instead I just…”

  His face turns bright read.

  Astrid watches him closely, obviously trying to get a read on him. Draco waits it out, knowing she’ll get to the truth. He’s pissed off and a little embarrassed to be caught going at it in the woods. She deserves better than that and if this little man hadn’t interrupted them, he would have taken her against that tree.

  What the hell has come over him?

  Astrid nods, giving him the clear. She takes a st
ep closer. “This is private property. Stay clear, got it?”

  Draco cracks open the barrel, removing the bullets, before handing it back to the man. “If we catch you out here again, we’ll call the police.” He gives him a hard, dangerous look. One that implies that no, they won’t call anyone. They’ll handle it themselves. The man seems to get the message.

  “Got it. I’m really sorry and I didn’t…”

  “Didn’t what?” Astrid asks.

  “Mean to intrude.” Dammit. “I apologize.”

  Draco sighs and waves his hand. “Just go.”

  The man turns and heads back the other direction and they stand for a moment watching him until he disappears into the brush. Draco faces Astrid.

  “Well that was a mood killer,” she says with a laugh.

  He smiles in return because he likes everything about this woman. Her humor, her strength. His eyes skim her body. Yeah, everything.

  “Let’s finish that run,” he tells her, heading to the trail.

  She cocks her head. “Need to work out some energy?”

  She sets the pace and he matches it. “You have no idea.”

  “Yeah, actually I do.”

  Chapter 4

  Astrid

  Quinn has breakfast ready when we return from our run. Disgusting-looking kale protein shakes that he and Draco consume with a look of contentment. They’re so weird, but when she tries her hardest not to stare at Mr. Perfect and the way the sweat-soaked shirt clings to his curves or the broad lines of Quinn’s back, she understands the value. She should encourage them to eat like this if muscle-packed bodies are the result.

  “Want me to make you an egg?” Quinn asks her.

  She pulls her hand out of the bag of powdered doughnuts Owen brought her. “Uh, I’m okay.”

  The run worked to get a little bit of the pent-up energy out of her system, but she’s got a craving and she’s pretty sure three doughnuts may help cut the edge.

  Damn, she’s wound up. Really wound up, and until Draco scratches that itch she’s not sure she’ll feel any sort of relief.

  “Any interest in checking out the boathouse?” Draco asks Quinn.

  “Yeah, sounds good. I saw some keys in the cabinet over there.” Quinn looks at Astrid. “Want to come?”

  “No thanks, I need a shower. But I’ll wave at you when you drive by.” Astrid has plans of cleaning up, sitting on the deck, and relaxing all day. “Where’s Owen?”

  “Still asleep,” Quinn replies. “And he thinks I’m the lightweight.”

  “He’s just lazy,” she laughs. “Anyone check on Cas today?”

  “Yeah,” Draco says. “He’s alive. And playing some game with trolls and pillaging barbarians.”

  Astrid takes a sip of her soda. Soon she’s going to need Draco to pillage her. Very soon.

  “Have fun,” she tells them, knowing she needs to get away before she gets hot and bothered again.

  The bathroom is like everything else in the house; decoratively on point for the cabin style while also being ridiculously luxurious. The walls are made of slatted wood, white washed and bright. The floor hardwoods have soft, gray, furry rugs. A huge open-air shower is built into the wall, with a window that looks out over the water. It’s hard not to wonder if someone could see you up there but maybe the glass fogs over? Astrid can’t decide how she feels about that but she does know the massive clawfoot tub is calling her name.

  Like everything else, it’s a mixture of rustic and contemporary, the shape and fixtures seemingly antique but small jets along the sides tell her it’s been modernized. She spins the tap and water rushes out.

  On a whim, Astrid checks the cabinet over the sink. Sure enough; bath bombs, shower gel, bubbles. She grabs them all and a small bottle that catches her eye. She needs to relax. Really relax, and this may do the trick.

  She drops in the lavender bomb, strips and climbs in, the hot water immediately easing her aching muscles. So much has gone on lately she feels overwhelmed. She’s let down her community. They hate her and her team. Rowe is out there probably planning his next attack and there’s someone leading all of this, someone she doesn’t know.

  Stop, she tells herself. Just stop. Breathe, relax.

  The word relax bounces around her brain. There’s one way to make that happen, something she can control, and she eyes the small bottle sitting on the edge of the bath.

  She pours a liberal amount of the lube in her hand, getting her finger sticky. It’s waterproof, and she leans her back into the tub and bends her knees, resting them on the sides.

  She’s already on edge from the morning in the woods with Draco and simply being around all of the men. Their bodies, their laughter…everything is a turn-on. Even the kale smoothie, because she loves how true Quinn is to himself and how he wants her to be healthy. She thinks about Quinn and his rock-hard body, the way he dotes on her, cares for her, and she strokes her fingers along the sensitive spot between her legs, feeling a jolt of energy.

  She sighs as the stress begins to melt away.

  Her mind wanders to Draco and the heat of his kisses. God, it felt good when he lost control, tossing her hard against that tree. Her body can take it, and damn she wants him to handle her. Take charge. Let go. Fuck her good and proper.

  Her fingers tweak her clit, giving her a shock of pleasurable pain, and she groans into the sensation.

  Too loud she thinks, embarrassed with herself. She hits the button that turns on the jets in case it happens again. The motor roars to life and bubbles surround her providing a new burst of arousal. Her breasts bob in the water, her nipples rising and falling from the movement. One jet rushes against her clit and the vibration edges her along. She drops her head against the tub, fully immersed in the moment, jaw lax, fingers quick, clit hot and pulsing.

  She’s tipping over the edge and hears the fast pace of her breathing over the roar of the jets. She grabs the edge of the tub, close, so very, very close when she catches something—the faintest thump, thump, and she opens her eyes.

  And freezes.

  “Sweet mercy.” Owen watches her from the doorway, and when she doesn’t move he says, “Look babe, one of two things can happen here. You can keep going and fulfill a teenage fantasy of mine or you can let me do that for you.” He thinks for a moment. “Also a teenage fantasy of mine. But whatever you do, don’t stop. Got it?”

  She nods, knowing she couldn’t stop if she tried. She’s cranked up, engine high, body about to explode.

  He’s in his boxer briefs, cock tenting against the fabric. His shirt is off and a line from the sheets imprints across his chest. She feels the heat on her cheeks, a combination of the water temperature and her humiliation, but the hunger in his eyes doesn’t warrant embarrassment. There’s no doubt in her mind Owen isn’t lying. He’s certainly fantasized about a scenario moment similar to this a million times before.

  Really, it’s only fair. He brought her doughnuts. She can fulfill his dreams.

  She jerks her chin at him and his tense look shifts to an ecstatic grin. Her hand moves beneath the surface, fingers finding their pace. Her eyes are glued to his as he drops to his knees and crawls over to the tub. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, planting his mouth to hers. The kiss is all she needs to cajole her body back where it was moments before, and he dips his hand in the water, tweaking her nipples one after the other and grazes his hand down her belly.

  Sweet mercy, indeed.

  Her fingers are still slippery with lube and her clit is a bundle of frayed nerves. His mouth never leaves hers, kissing and kissing as the wave of euphoria climbs and climbs. The water sloshes with her movements, her body tingles from head to toe. Owen, not known for his patience, takes over, pushing beneath her fingers and sliding his inside, providing a whole new wave of feeling.

  Together they stroke, fuck, and move until her breathing grows erratic, desperate, and her teeth clamp down on his lip. She comes in a wave of jerking movements crying against his m
outh, and all the pent-up tension rolls away, shedding from her like a layer of discarded weight.

  When she stills, her legs exhausted, her body content, she lifts a wet hand to his cheek. “Thank you,” she says. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

  He smiles and lifts an eyebrow. “That one goes in the vault,” he tells her. “The one that’s for me and for me only.” He brushes her hair out of her eyes. “Because damn, babe, just when I think you can’t get sexier. Just when I think I can’t be into you more, you do something like that and blow my world.”

  She licks her lips and looks at the sleek curve of his chest and the fine trail of hair leading below his bellybutton. She thinks about how happy he makes her, always being there right when she needs him and know she’s the same.

  “If you want, I can really blow your world.”

  His lips quirk. “Oh yeah?”

  She sits up, water running down her body. His eyes dart to her chest, then his finger wipes a glob of foam off the peak.

  “Yeah.”

  Together, they test the shower.

  *

  She parts from Owen at the bottom of the stairs. He goes in the direction of the kitchen and turns toward Casper’s room. With a steadying breath, she knocks and then just enters, pushing what she knows is a personal boundary for him.

  It’s time for him to lighten up.

  He looks up from his computer monitor in alarm but his eyes do soften when he sees her. His heart hammers with anxiety and she gives him a reassuring smile.

  “Hey.”

  “W-what are you doing here?” His dark eyes take her in and slowly she feels his heartbeat return to normal.

  “Just checking on you.” She sits on a chair next to his. “And I wanted you to look into something for me.”

  “S-s-sure.”

  “Earlier this morning Draco and I were down by the lake, on the trail, for a run. We were surprised by a hunter. Or he says he was a hunter.”