Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Superhero, Big Breasts, Slow, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When Quantum Knight takes Joey for an evening, she plans a night of lessons on how to be a superhero. But she soon discovers that no matter how experienced one is, there are always things the teacher can learn.
The air feels thick. Its presence is strong in my mind, and as the light breeze flows through the city, I can sense the air moving around the buildings, through the streets, and in and out of people's lungs. It's weird, being able to feel the insides of people's lungs. It's disturbing to know exactly how much empty space is inside a body, even my own.
It's all those stray particles I'm entangled with. Atoms of carbon and iron and oxygen and aluminum and copper ... all pieces from objects I've entangled over the past few months or years, molecules that have rubbed off, chipped off, or just evaporated with wear. Every item I entangle leaves a little trail of where it goes. My costume is the worst offender. Fabrics wear down just by existing, and wherever I go there's a light mist of particles behind me that I'm just barely aware of. I'm long overdue to untangle them. They're distracting, but I try to tune them out. I really should clean up my messes.
But that takes time and effort, and it's boring to sit in my bedroom and meditate, erasing particles from my consciousness. So I put it off. It's easier to just get used to them. I've got better things to do. Well, at least more interesting things to do. Like right now. I'm on patrol, standing in full costume on top of a building on New Hampshire Avenue, watching the sunset.
I love nights like this; The warm summer evenings with long sunsets. The oppressive heat of the day is over, and the warm welcoming night approaches. The city is busy, with throngs of people out enjoying the late evening as sunset stretches well past eight. Of course with anything that brings a large number of people, there's always the glut of scum who come out to take advantage of it. But this particular night it's been quiet. Nothing too harsh. No major fights or crimes.
"Hey! Stop! That's my purse!"
As I said. Nothing major. Just the occasional purse snatching.
I glance over the edge of the building and catch a sight of the perp. I sigh. It's Chet again. When will he learn? He's running full tilt away from a woman who's chasing him, and there's no way she's going to catch him. Not with those heels. He's carrying a purse, and it does NOT go with his outfit. I pick a spot in front of him.
"AAAAHHH!" He screams as he skids to a halt in front of me. I love moments like these.
"Drop the purse, Chet."
He panics, spins, and starts running. Why does he do that? Why does anyone ever try to run away from me? I'm a teleporter, for Christ's sake! You can't outrun me. I give him a moment and wait for him to look backwards. They always do that. They look backwards when they run to see if I'm following. Must be an ancient evolutionary thing. Doesn't matter. That's the moment I wait for. I pick a spot in front of him to catch him as he runs into me.
VRAMMM! FLIP! SLAM!
He's on the ground, his arm twisted up and high as I pin him down with one foot on his back.
"I said, drop the purse, Chet."
He lets go of the purse. The woman runs up, reaching us. She's breathless already, and she stares at me with this wonderful stunned expression of amazement. "Quantum Knight ... Thank you!" she says. "Thank you so much."
"You may want to take your purse."
I pull a pair of handcuffs from The Singularity and slap them on Chet's arm. "Ow! Damn it, woman!" he screams. "Why are you always busting me?"
"Why are you always doing something that needs busting?" I retort, kneeling down and pulling his other hand back, cuffing him. As I stand and pull him up, I turn to the woman. "Stick around. You need to talk to the police." I pull my cell phone from The Singularity and give it a moment for it to locate itself. I travel faster than the phone system expects anyone to travel, and it takes a moment for the system to figure out what the hell happened.
"Don't you got anything better to do than to pick on me?" Chet complains again. "Shouldn't you be doing something bigger, like catching REAL criminals?"
This is tiring. I can't figure out why I have to defend myself for stopping him. I hook my cell phone to my costume and slam him against the wall. I stare him in the face and summon a shuriken. His eyes go wide and his skin pales as I turn the blade in my hand, shining a reflection into his eyes.
"Listen, I would LOVE it if I never had to deal with you again. And I CAN make that happen, but my options to make that happen are limited. So either YOU do something so I don't have to deal with you again, or I can do something."
That shut him up. I call the catch in to the police. It always takes a few minutes for them to arrive. This is the part of the job I always feel most awkward about, standing around, waiting for the police. I always draw a crowd of onlookers. Eyes are on me from every direction. Cameras are pointed at me. I can feel every presence, every beam of light that reflects off me and into an eye or camera. I can feel the waveforms collapsing from superposition to defined waves. I don't like cameras on me, and I habitually prevent the collapse for those waves heading towards cameras. The people can see me, but no one can get a clear picture of me.
The crowd applauds me, and I secretly love it, but don't show it on my face. Wouldn't be right for my image. A group of young men are eying me, checking out my body and egging each other on. One will hit on me in the next few minutes. A short pair of eyes approaches me from behind.
"Excuse me, Miss Superhero lady?" An eight year old girl tugs on my arm. Her mother gasps in panic, as if her daughter just pulled the pin on a grenade, and comes running up to us.
"I'm so sorry! Ashley, you shouldn't..."
"It's quite all right," I say to her mother. To her daughter, "Can I help you?"
She has a small diary which she holds up to me. "Can you sign my book?"
Autographs. I sigh internally but show no response. Autographs always remind me of that kid back in the seventies who got killed by a supervillain because he had a superhero autograph. Bastard villain thought he could get some intel through handwriting analysis. It was just one incident as far as I know, but I always think about it, and when I do sign autographs I use a block letter handwriting, far different from my normal style. Protects the fan, and it's also easier to read. But that's not the real problem with autographs. If I say 'yes', suddenly EVERYONE has something to sign, and I'm here for hours not doing my job. But if I say 'no', parents get disappointed, it hits the blogs and I get to read about how much of a bitch I am.
"After the police come, and I do ONE autograph a day." There. A compromise. I don't get trapped in a signing session, and the parents don't think I'm too much of a bitch. Just enough of a bitch.
It's all in the attitude, really. When I'm in the costume, I am the boss. People don't mess with me, and people don't challenge me. I can't let up the air of authority. Once I do, it's a loss of power and respect. I like to think I inspire people, and it's moments like these when an eight year old girl asks for my autograph that let me know that I do. At least I hope I inspire her. It's either that, or she just has an account on Ebay.
She nods and smiles to me, understanding that she is lucky, special even. She scrutinizes me for a moment, and asks "Are you married?"
The question solicits giggles and chuckles at the nerve of the innocent query, and it leaves me in a delicate situation. The answer is 'no', but I don't want the boys to get an opening, and I don't give out personal information.
"Are you?" I ask the girl.
She looks horrified. "No!" she defends herself. "Yuck!"
The crowd's laughter buys me enough time to pull out my cell phone and send a quick text message to Matilda, my publicity agent. ND INSP " 4 8YR GRL. It's the part I hate the most about autographs; coming up with something inspirational to write. I can never think of anything.
"So..." one of the boys says, the one with the most courage out of his friends. " ... When do you get off work?" He's leering at me, and it's the first moment that he's looked at me without staring at my breasts.
I give him the once-over. "Long after your bedtime, kid."
His friends burst out laughing, and one chucks him on the arm. "Dude, she like totally BURNED you!"
"Shut up, Ted!"
The police arrive, thankfully, and transferring Chet and his victim to their custody burns off a couple minutes. I teleport my cuffs off Chet and put them back in their place back home. It's a cool thing; I have keys for those cuffs, but never use them. My cell phone buzzes during the arrest, and I check it. Thank god, it's from Matilda. Then I check the message.
LIGHT THE SKY
Light the sky? Is she fucking kidding me? Stargold used that in a speech when he won his Supreme Court case back in the fifties, and that was a great speech, all about how sometimes all it takes to be a hero is to inspire someone, but that's the best she can come up with? It's been done to death. Unfortunately it's all I got to work with. I sign the girl's book with "Light the sky, Ashley! - Quantum Knight", give her a firm handshake, and teleport to the rooftops, taking a couple unnecessary jumps to get there so she can watch me leave instead of just disappear.
Inspiration. That's one of the duties of a superhero, to inspire others. I'm not sure how good I am at it. I take a moment and wonder what's going to happen with Ashley, what our chance meeting will do for her. Will she be inspired to stay in school? Not do drugs? Become a doctor? Stay off the pole at least? I wish I had that kind of inspiration when I was younger. Would have done a lot less drugs.
Light the sky. To burn so bright you outshine the moon and illuminate the city. Easy for some heroes. They can actually produce light. Stargold could. Hyperion can. Snow Angel can do that too. The most amount of light I ever produce is when I entangle an object. It sends out a brief burst of light. Hardly lighting the sky. More like flashing it. But lighting the sky is all about inspiring people, sending out the message that anyone can become anything, that you can overcome any obstacle with enough determination and intelligence, and that sometimes you can do things you don't know you can do. Nice idea, even if it doesn't always work.
Now, you want to talk about someone who lights the sky, talk about Annie Freidman. She lights the sky, literally. When she and Joey go out flying, which is like every night now, she glows in rainbow colors and leaves this comet tail behind her. It's beautiful, really. Joey's powers are based on love, and you can tell that they really love each other.
I'd love to try that sometime. The flying, that is. And maybe the loving.
They have a weird life now, all three of them. Two superhumans and a paraplegic all living together. Tricia is going through her Cosmic awakening, which is a royal bitch to go through. I know, I went through it too. It's like super-power puberty. When I was going through it I was teleporting and super-positioning things randomly for months, but she's got time-travel powers now. She's got the next several months of dealing with all sorts of weird shit I can't even begin to imagine. And Joey is, well, God knows what he is. If the preliminary report from Technarch is anything to go on, his power levels are off the charts. I can't imagine the troubles he has, keeping that power in check. He's terrified of hurting the girls, which is good I guess.
He used to be a superhero. He was Omega Boy. Not any more. He says he doesn't want to be a superhero, which I find bizarre. Who doesn't want to be a superhero? It's fun. Oh sure the hours are long and you can get killed any day, but that's true of any other job. And I've seen him in action. I think he has what it takes to be a great superhero. I think he just needs some inspiration.
But oddly enough it's Annie I find the most awe-inspiring. I've never told her this, but I've always felt uncomfortable around the handicapped. I feel sorry for them, guilty even for being fully able-bodied while they need help to get out of bed or do other simple tasks. I never know what to say, or what to do. I feel awkward. But Annie handles her challenges with charm, style, and grace, and makes me feel welcome and comfortable. It's inspirational actually.
I once heard that the handicapped don't like that word. "Handicapped". They prefer "disabled". Apparently "handicapped" is supposed to come from the phrase "cap-in-hand", which meant a beggar, which they consider demeaning. But then I heard Annie use the word, and I asked her about it. She said that story was complete bullshit, not to mention demeaning to beggars. "Handicap" actually comes from "Hand-in-cap", a 17th century betting game, and the word was re-purposed in gambling circles to horse-racing, where they would load an exceptional horse with extra weight so it could compete with other horses more fairly. So the modern interpretation should really mean "Here is a person that was so awesome that God decided to cut her in half so she could more fairly mingle with the rest of you poor shmucks." Spend an evening with Annie, and you realize how true it is.
They should be out again soon, Annie and Joey. I look forward to watching them fly. But I can feel that they're home now, back in their apartment in Adams Morgan. All three of them are there, back from their trip. Well, at least their jewelry is: two bracelets, a crucifix, and a dog collar; items I've entangled. I should visit them, but I wanted to give them some time to get settled again. I'm surprised they're not all in bed together again. I can feel that they are in different rooms right now. Usually the three are clustered together, and there's a lot of bouncing going on.
My cell phone buzzes. I look at the number. Speak of the devil, it's Tricia. I answer it. "Hey girlfriend! How was New York?"
"Quantum Knight? I ... I think I need help!"
It's not Tricia. It's Joey. He sounds upset. Scared. Crying. "Joey? What's the matter?"
"I ... I don't know what's wrong! Something is wrong!"
There is a terror in his voice. I was afraid something was going to happen to them. "Is it the powers? Is anyone hurt?"
"No, but ... I don't know what it is! They're angry at me, and I must have done something that hurt them, but I don't know what it is I did! Please come! They won't..."
He's getting panicked. "Calm down, calm down. I'll be right over. Open the patio door for me."
I don't like this. I hang up and tunnel into the sky.
Ten seconds later I'm on their balcony door. The glass window is obscured with a black field, part of the privacy spell from Snow Angel's ward. I can't get in, and I can't see inside. But I can tell that Joey is on the other side of the door. His bracelet reaches forward as he opens the door for me. When I see him, his face is a mass of anguish. He's terrified and upset.
"Thank you!" he cries. "I don't know what's happening."
I step inside their apartment. My senses are on edge, and I'm tense, ready for a fight. Everything looks normal. Scrappy jumps out of his cage and gives me a welcoming sniff. I can feel Tricia's necklace and Annie's bracelet in their respective rooms.
"It's okay. Tell me what happened. Are you all right?"
He nods and wipes away some tears. "I don't know what is going on. We got home, and then they just got angry at me."
"Is it Tricia's powers? They take some time to get used to them."
"It's BOTH of them! They both just started getting pissed off at me, and then they yelled at me. Tricia said I kept getting in her space, and Annie yelled at me, said she didn't need my pity, and I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID!"
I reach out to him and touch his shoulder. "Calm down. Let me look into this." I'm relieved. At least it doesn't look like powers going haywire, but this is the last place I expected to deal with a domestic dispute. They all just love each other too much. I need to talk to them, figure out what's going on. If it were just Tricia, I'd chalk it up to her dealing with time-bending powers, but it's both of the girls. I should start with Tricia. She's a sister Cosmic, and we have a special relationship. Maybe I can use that relationship to calm her down and approach her; figure out what's causing both of the girls to simultaneously...
I stop two steps from Tricia's room. Oh fuck...
I sigh. Never assume super-powers when a mundane explanation works.
I head back to the kitchen and check the calendar. Mr. August graces the top half, a gorgeous half-naked volunteer firefighter with swollen pecs and tight abs and huge arms and something that looks like a Hickory Farms Summer Sausage stuffed in his pants. I turn the calendar back a page and check the dates. Annie's circled a few days in what looks to me like an orange pen. Red, I correct mentally. Three days are circled, and it was the week Tricia and Joey were in the hospital, just over three weeks ago.
I sigh again. I should have known. This pisses me off. They should know better.
"Joey, you did nothing wrong."
He blinks at me in relief. "You know what's wrong?"
"Uh-huh. Stand back. This is going to be ugly."
Grim city avenger time. I storm over to Tricia's room and throw the door open. Tricia is lying in her bed, curled up, looking pitiful. She looks up at me. "Quan..."
That's as far as I let her get. "UP!" I yell at her, and grab her hair and yank. She shrieks as I pull her out of bed.
"OW! What are you doing! Let go!"
I drag her out of her room and across the hall. "I'm dragging YOU because I'm not doing this to Annie!" I pull her to Annie's room, open the door, and throw her inside. Annie is in her bed, and she pushes herself up.
"What's going on?" she asks. I throw Tricia on top of her. "OOF!"
"What's the matter with you?" Annie shrieks at me.
Tricia rolls off Annie's legs and sits on the bed, rubbing her head. "Why did you do that?"
"SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!" I yell, using my best superhero voice. It commands a lot of attention and respect. The girls shut up and look at me. "I just got a frantic phone call from Joey. You're pissed at him for something, he's terrified of you, and he doesn't know what he did. Now I have two questions for you ... One: How long have you two been living together? And Two: Have you synchronized yet?"
The girls look at each other. Their expressions drop from anger and indignation to guilt. Joey has now crept into the room quietly behind me.
Annie groans, and answers grudgingly. "Eight months, and yes."
"And were you planning on TELLING him about this? Or were you just going to torture him?"
Tricia mumbles. "I explained this to him..."
"Yeah, I'm sure you explained the theory a few weeks ago, but this is practice. Did you tell him what's going on?"
"What's going on?" Joey asks.
I turn to him. "It's their menstrual cycles. They're getting their periods soon. When women live together their cycles tend to synchronize. They're going through PMS right now. And THEY KNOW IT!"
Joey squints in confusion. "PMS?"
"Pre-menstrual syndrome. Bloating, cramping, and mood swings. They're going to be in a lousy mood for the next few days. So as I said, you did nothing wrong." I turn back to the girls. "THEY, on the other hand, knew what was happening, and didn't say anything to you. Instead, they just took it out on you." I center my gaze on the girls. "Now I think you two need to apologize to him."
Annie looks humiliated. "I'm sorry, Joey."
"Me too," admits Tricia. "I should have told you."
Joey processes it for a moment. "So this is ... normal?" He looks worried. I don't blame him.
"Uh-huh," I answer. "Don't worry. They'll be fine in a few days."
"How often is this going to happen?"
His eyes go wide. "Oh no..." He thinks about it again. "This happened before?"
"You missed the last one," I explain. "You and Tricia were in the hospital when they had their last periods. Nice timing, actually."
Annie looks at me weirdly. "How did you know that?"
"I have a calendar and a red pen too." Joey takes a slight step back away from me, obviously making the connection that it happens to me as well. I give him a smile. "Relax, I'm not going through it now."
Joey nods and looks at his girls with concern. Annie groans as she clutches her abdomen. Tricia looks pretty bad too. I wonder... "Is this a really bad case?" I ask.
The girls nod. Tricia says "It's never been this bad before."
"Is there anything we can do?" Joey asks.
"No," I answer. "They just need plenty of herbal tea, Ben and Jerry's, and Bridget Jones' Diary. Probably also best if there is no man about the house to blame things on. No point in you getting tortured any more." Something is nagging me about this. It seems familiar.
"Not a bad idea," Tricia says. "You mind taking him?"
How did I walk into that? I glance at Joey, and he seems relieved at the prospect. Actually, now that I think about it, Tricia is right. It's not a bad idea. I wouldn't mind spending some one-on-one time with him. Kid superhero learning the ropes from a mentor superhero. Throw him a little inspiration. Could be fun.
Also, he's not a bad kisser.
"Sure, no problem. Joey, want to hang out with me a couple days?"
Joey looks back at Tricia and Annie for consent. Annie waves him off, giving her approval. "Um, yeah," he answers.
"Why don't you pack a few clothes?" He nods, and heads off to his room. I pull my mask off and remove my gloves. "In the meantime, why don't I make you both some tea?"
"Sandy?" Tricia asks as I start to walk out.
"When you take him home?"
She stares me down. "Use condoms."
I smirk and roll my eyes. "I'm putting the kettle on."
I head back into the living room and glance at the floating blue crystal that hangs unsuspended next to their TV set. Green, I mentally correct. It's Snow Angel's protective ward. It protects against intruders, acts as a privacy screen, and filters out all outgoing light and sound so no one can see or hear inside. I used to have one. I enter the small kitchen and fill the teakettle with water. I don't normally do such mundane things in the superhero suit. Feels weird. Bet it looks pretty strange too. I've always had this weird desire to put on the suit and go grocery shopping, just to see the neighbors' reactions. I put the kettle on and look in the cabinets for tea and mugs. As I open up a tea bag, my finger slips across the edge of the paper.
"Ow! Dammit!" Paper cut. Hurts like a son of a bitch. I hate paper cuts, and this is coming from someone who's been stabbed, shot, beaten, burnt, and blown up. I don't mind those injuries. At least those have some badge of honor quality. But to be wounded by a box of Celestial Seasonings is just plain embarrassing. I quickly arrange the mugs and tea bags while sucking on my finger, and then I run my finger under the water.
Good. Bleeding stopped. Almost immediately. That was really fast.
I stare at my finger. It's definitely stopped bleeding. Why did it...
Oh, god damn it! I should have known!
I pick up a steak knife and go back into the living room. Joey comes out looking concerned. "You okay? I heard you..." He sees me with the steak knife. "What are you doing?"
"An experiment," I say, holding up my bare hand and the steak knife. "I don't think this was entirely the girls' fault." I slice the back of my hand with the knife. Joey winces nearly as much as I do.
"Why did you do that?"
I hold my hand up next to Snow Angel's ward, showing it the wound. "Joey, you ever get hangnails?"
"Yeah. Those little breaks in your skin at the ends of your fingers, just under your nails. You ever get those?"
He nods. "Yeah."
"Got any now?"
He checks his hands. "Um ... No." He sounds surprised.
I'm watching the wound. I can see the blood drying quickly, and the slice closing on the edges. "Do you use moisturizers? Or cut them away? Ever get a manicure?"
"The girls ever work on your nails?"
He shakes his head. "No. They're not interested in my nails. They're more interested in my ... well..." He blushes. "Not my nails."
I can see the wound closing, and I sigh. I tap the crystal with the steak knife. "I used to have one of these too. Had gorgeous hands for a while." I walk back to the kitchen to clean and return the steak knife. "Hair was shiny! Skin perfect! Boobs firmed up real nice too!" I walk back into the living room and pull out my cell phone. "And the worst PMS in the history of western civilization. Followed by the scariest, bloodiest period since the Crusades."
Joey looks baffled as I walk into the doorway to Annie's room. The girls perk up and pay attention to me as I dial, listen, and wait for the tone. "Iowa! Quantum! Listen, whenever you get done with whoever you're doing, head over to Trish and Annie's and reset their ward. You've got this thing spouting out WAY too much life energy. It's messing with their reproductive systems. Remember the time I kicked Acoustyx in the nuts? Well, Trish and Annie are going through that now, and I'm taking Joey out of here before they kill him."
Annie stares at me in disbelief. "You kicked Acoustyx in his kishkes?"
"He totally had it coming!" I defended. "So, when you get a chance, get over here and turn that knob down a bit. Thanks!" I hang up and give them an apologetic look. "Sorry for pulling your hair, Trish. Turns out this is not ENTIRELY your fault. Iowa's ward has been screwing with your body chemistry, trying to get you two pregnant. You two have most likely been ovulating heavily for a while. It's followed by killer cramps, and then ... well ... Trish? You may want to wear Annie's diapers. It's going to be rough."
Tricia stares at me with a horrified look. Annie looks disgusted. "What did she do to us?" asks Tricia.
"Nothing intentional," I reassure them. "Magic can be pretty strong, that's all. She just needs to adjust it. This happens."
"Maybe we should leave too. Come with you?" Tricia suggests.
I shake my head. "No need. The damage is done. Leaving here won't make it any better, and one more night of exposure isn't going to make it any worse." And with that, I head back to the kitchen.
By the time the water is boiling, Joey has packed a small gym bag with some clothes, his toothbrush, and a small sketch pad. I prepare the tea and take it to the girls, who are now in the living room. They look miserable. I sympathize with them. I went through a magic enhanced PMS before, and it sucks. Joey picks up Scrappy and puts him in the bag as well. I wasn't expecting the dog to come to, but I decide to say nothing.
"Oh, Joey. Don't take Scrappy too!" Annie complains. "I need him."
"No you don't," Joey retorts. "You can blame your farts on Tricia for a while." I chuckle and they all have a moment of happiness, sharing a personal joke. "I'll be back in a couple days. I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too!" "Love you!" "Love you!" "Love you too." "Call us!" "Sorry for being such a challah." They get all mushy, saying goodbye and kissing each other. I pull my mask back on and put on the gloves. I'm back into Quantum Knight mode. I feel myself tighten up, becoming the grim city avenger again. I stop feeling bad about roughing Tricia up. It's weird, but that's what becoming Quantum Knight does to me. Sandy feels compassion, Quantum Knight sees the results. I look out the window, planning the departure route. It's about nine in the evening, and the sun has set, and what few stars you can see in the city are out.
"You take good care of him," Tricia says to me.
"I will." Joey steps up to me, and I take his bag in one hand, and his hand in the other. "Good night, girls." And we vanish into the city.