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Metro City Zombie War

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Much as Roxanne would have liked, she couldn't stay wrapped around Megamind forever. She dozed fitfully, awakening when Minion excused himself quietly, and she watched as the huge hands of the robot suit picked up Minion from Megamind's limp arms and deposited the henchfish back into the habitat atop it and walk out.

Somewhere around three in the afternoon she kissed Megamind on the temple and went out to see what was happening for herself.

The salvage crew were still doing inventory on the cargo, and someone had unrolled a bale of chicken wire to form a rough pen for the chickens off to one side of the Lair's courtyard, far away from the hovercraft landing pad and with plenty of shade, she was pleased to note. The chickens seemed quite content with their new home, and several children were milling around the pen and were watching them with interest, under the watchful gaze of a brainbot.

She wondered how they were going to fairly distribute the eggs, when she saw Hot Flash's minion Irwin scuttling across the courtyard of the Lair.

Scuttling was probably not a very kind descriptor, but it was the word that sprang most easily to mind for the little man, as he ducked through the crowd clutching a plastic bag with boxy items, shoulders hunched and an anxious expression that, from what little Roxanne had seen of him, was permanently etched on his face. Every few seconds he looked over his shoulder to cajole, a lanky young man swaggering in his wake, hands stuffed in his pockets and contriving to look bored with life.

Morbid curiosity and a sneaking suspicion had Roxanne following after them.
Irwin scuttled towards the side of the Lair, and Hot Flash, who was slouching against the wall talking to...

Roxanne stopped short.

That was her mother. Hot Flash was chatting with her mother.

As she watched, Irwin turned to speak anxiously to his travelling companion, flapping his hands, and the guy glanced at Hot Flash, then strolled over to lean against another part of the wall a number of yards away, as if it were his own idea to simply hang out by the Lair with nothing to do.

Hot Flash was still seemed engrossed in her conversation with Elaine Ritchi and gave off the impression of being unaware of either Irwin or his companion, though Roxanne was sure none of it had escaped her notice.

Roxanne's mother talked animatedly, but in a low voice so that Roxanne couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

Irwin trotted up to Hot Flash and hovered discretely at Hot Flash's shoulder. After a few moments, the boss deigned to notice him, and she glanced at the bag he offered up for inspection. “I couldn't find much, Ms. Hot Flash,” he murmured apologetically, while she rifled through it, taking out a partly empty package of cigarellos for inspection. “But I think I will have a lead on those Marlboros by tonight."

“Hm.” Hot Flash wrinkled her nose as she rifled through the bag a little longer, then absent-mindedly patted Irwin on the cheek. “All right. Good enough.” Irwin beamed happily, then, blinking and looking around anxiously, he leaned in again to whisper urgently in Hot Flash's ear.

Hot Flash threw him a sharp look and straightened up, shoulders snapping back and eyes widening with anger as she pushed off the wall to face Roxanne. “That psycho's here?”

“He asked for sanctuary. He got it,” Roxanne said sharply. She had a feeling she knew who Hot Flash was talking about. “It's under control.”

Hot Flash stared at her, mouth hanging open, then shook her head with a humorless chuckle. “I hope you know what you're doing. You want my advice? Shoot him in the head now and save some trouble.”

“That won't be necessary,” Roxanne said, sounding just a little too prim.

Elaine Ritchi looked from her daughter to Hot Flash and back again, bewildered. “What? What psycho? Roxanne, are we...”

Hot Flash laid a hand on her forearm. “Don't worry about it, Laney.”

Roxanne's eyebrows shot up. Laney?

Her mother sighed and gave Hot Flash a long-suffering smile, as if to commiserate with her about impossible daughters. “Well, I hope so, Trudy. If you say so.”

Roxanne's mouth fell open. TRUDY? She must have fallen into an alternate universe, some bizarre world where her strait-laced mother had somehow become pals with a supervillain.

Hot Flash blew a thin stream of smoke, perhaps enjoying Roxanne's consternation just a bit too much. “Just talkin', yer highness. Girl stuff. We're gonna go out on the town sometime. What's left of it. Right, Laney?”

To Roxanne's utter horror, her mother let out a girlish giggle and covered her mouth with her hand, a faint blush coloring her cheekbones. “Oh, I don't know about that.”

Her smile faded and became a frown, her eyes darting back and forth, and her face tightening, and Roxanne wished Hot Flash hadn't said 'your highness.' An unwelcome reminder to her mother of who her daughter had gotten herself involved with.

Elaine appeared torn between continuing to talk with her new friend and scolding her daughter about her new beau. Roxanne could see it, her mother's features shifting into lines of disapproval and concern.

Hot Flash took a moment to watch the emotions war across Elaine's face. “Well, you change your mind, let me know. Irwin'll scare up someone for you, too.”

“Trudy, you are too much,” Elaine said, and giggled again.

After Hot Flash had excused herself and strolled off with her arm curled around the admittedly generous biceps of the young man Irwin had apparently purloined for her, Roxanne rounded on her mother. “Mom, you do know who that was, don't you?”

“Yes, dear. Gertrude McCall. But she prefers Trudy.”

“Mom, that's Hot Flash!"

"Well, she said I may call her Trudy," Elaine said with a sniff. "She seems very nice. For a villain."

Roxanne opened her mouth to protest, then stopped, biting back a protest, hearing the dare in her mother's pointed comment. 

It was just...this was her mother. Her mother didn't hang out with supervillains.

Roxanne struggled to find something helpful to say, feeling absurdly as if their roles had been flip-flopped so that she was the one who needed to advise her mother to make good life choices, then realized the futility of it.

Elaine lifted her chin, as if she could read Roxanne's thoughts, and reached out to pat her shoulder. "Don't worry, dear. I can look after myself."

- - - - -

Later, Roxanne saw Hank out on the street in earnest conversation with his estranged wife Noelle, but she stood there tight-lipped and arms crossed, shaking her head, and when he tentatively touched her elbow, she jerked her arm away and stormed off, wiping her eyes.

Roxanne looked away. She'd never seen Noelle cry before. Usually Noelle was more likely to take a crowbar to her troubles, but her husband was her weakness. Roxanne wondered if she would take Hank back, or if Noelle had finally had enough of his philandering.

Hank looked stricken as he wandered away. Roxanne noticed Jessica, Hank's ex-lover, watching him from around the corner of the Lair wall.

Roxanne rolled her eyes. Good grief. If Jessica went to comfort Hank it was going to start up that ridiculous love triangle again, but it really wasn't any of her business. So far as she knew, the three people involved continued to show up to do the work they'd signed up for, Hank going on salvage and rescue missions, Noelle continuing to photograph the dead and enter the images into the database, Jessica working on communications, so Roxanne supposed they all would have to just keep on keeping on.

The rescue efforts continued. New refugees continued to trickle in. One intrepid group arrived on bicycles, hauling trailers stuffed with children, belongings, and a very cranky old man.

Uncle Lenny and Uncle Sid were indignant that Megamind hadn't included them in the salvage mission, and wanted Roxanne to tell him that in no uncertain terms once he woke up.

Nina was enthralling people with the tale of how they'd gotten out of Chicago, with, Roxanne was fairly certain, some embellishment, while the others on the mission looked on, grinning. Roxanne caught the thrilling conclusion.

“...ready to go,” Nina said, her voice rising in intensity, “when Apex showed up, armed to the teeth. He was like, 'stand down, villain,' and the Overlord was like, 'I am here to claim what is rightfully ours,' and Apex was like 'you're not going anywhere,' and the Overlord said 'here's the receipts' and a brainbot flew them over to him, and you should've seen the look on Apex's face! Then he was gonna board the ship but the Overlord said 'fat chance' and whipped his cape off and threw it over Apex's head then the bombs went off and they were too busy fighting the fire to chase us and when we goin' across the lake, the Overlord flew ahead and did something to Stratego's superjet...and...”

Nina paused for breath while her audience nudged each other excitedly, laughing and high-fiving each other as if they'd all been there.

“And here we are,” she said, grinning and throwing her hands up in the air, which got a happy cheer and a general friendly mob surging in to shake her hand and those of her cohorts.

Roxanne slipped away, unnoticed. She was glad it had gone well, but she couldn't help wondering how the heroes would respond to Megamind's defiance.

- - - - - -

More people were making the trek to the safe zone, dragging or carrying or rolling along more victims of zombie attacks, injured friends, relatives, neighbors, some of them with such severe wounds Roxanne was amazed they were still breathing.

Covered with bandages darkened by dirt and blood, moaning, or staring sightlessly at the sky, limbs missing, blankets and sheets draped over them hiding the unspeakable injuries.

The other refugees gave them a wide berth, and sent them straight to the clinic.

- - - - - - -

Roxanne waited by the comm while Minion went to meet with their new army contact handing over some illicit goods, at 11 pm on the dot as Megamind had arranged.

The contact was late, and Roxanne sweated along with Minion (who didn't really sweat, of course. What did an alien fish do? Fidget?) wondering if it was a trap, a prelude to an attack, or simply a no show. Maybe Megamind shouldn't have paid the guy in advance, but he hadn't exactly been operating at peak efficiency when he made the deal.

 

 


Minion returned with the promised goods, and retired to his own room, telling her she ought to do the same.

Roxanne went to bed, slipping under the covers with Megamind, who must have slept a good seventeen hours by now and showed no signs of stopping, but she lay awake in the half dark, reluctant to turn off the desk lamp.

She was too agitated to sleep, the ghastly images of the worst of the wounded rising in her mind's eye now that she was no longer rushing around.

Never before had the phrase 'worse than death' been brought into such stark clarity. What good was it to rescue people from the grip of zombies if they suffered such horrific injuries? And some of them died anyway, from shock and blood loss.

She found herself wondering at what point during a zombie attack it would be better to let them claim their victim. Surely it would be a mercy.

Might even be an algorithm of some sort for calculating that eventuality, she thought, number of bites sustained, amount of blood lost, some external cues.

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as she clenched her fists into the blanket. That was truly insane. She was going insane. How could she even think something like that, what absolute fuckery, even thinking about letting zombies finish the job once they got started?

She hated that the thought had even entered her head. Hated, for a few violent moments, everyone in this damn country that was complicit in making them suffer so, the short-sighted government, the stupid fucking military.

Megamind woke abruptly, turned groggy eyes toward her. “Roxanne?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “You all right?”

She sucked in a deep breath, only then realizing how loudly her short, angry breathing was, appalled at herself for disturbing him. “God, I'm so sorry, Megamind. I woke you up. Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing.”

With a groan he levered himself upright. “I think we both know that's not true. But I seriously need the bathroom. I'll be right back.”

When he came back, she had composed herself, the surge of rage left her empty and bleak. The light from the doorway outlined him for a few moments as he had a few words with whoever was on duty by the door, then he stepped in and the room became dark again.

She heard him shuffling to the desk and the click of the lamp brought a mellow half-light to the room. He climbed back in to lie on his side and tucked his hands under his cheek to regard her steadily. “Okay. Spill it. You gonna fill me in?”

She made a half-assed attempt to demur, but he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I'm just going to keep staring at you until you give in, you know,” he said in a singsong voice. “Wear you down. Be a total pain. You know I will, so you might as well surrender now, Miss Ritchi.”
She could feel the corner of her mouth trying to smile in spite of herself. “Ugh, where to start?”

She wiped a corner of her eye. She absolutely did not want to simply start listing the terrible things she'd seen, and so she settled for a generality. “All this suffering is overwhelming. I worry sometimes I'm getting desensitized, or hardened. It was just...really hard. You being gone. ”

He blew out a breath so she felt a little puff of air on her chin. “I missed you, too.” He gave her a little smile.

They lay quietly for a while, and she wondered if he'd drift off to sleep again, but his puffy eyes moved back and forth a little. They were so close she could feel his breath, little puffs of air in the shared space between them.

With a wry twist of thought, she remembered how she first came to the safe zone, fumbling about for some way to get her and her group inside, by selling herself to him if necessary.

She ought to have known better. Of all the times he'd kidnapped her, gloated and bragged and strode around like the most lowdown of vaudeville villains, he'd never once laid a hand wrong. Neither by word nor deed had he ever made her feel unsafe. Not in that way. Though she would definitely have preferred fewer bombs and giant hammers aimed at her head.

He had occasionally given her the once-over, quick, furtive glances. She wasn't ignorant of his interest.

Hell, she'd looked him over, too, figuring she might as well get her jollies, if he insisted on prancing around in front of her in those skintight suits, and inconveniencing her with those ridiculous death traps.

All this time she'd been in the Lair he'd been wary, and so careful about boundaries, waiting for her to tell him it was okay to touch her, to kiss her.

Roxanne really didn't feel like talking just then. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with him, and felt vaguely ashamed of herself.

Survivor's guilt? Could be. Shame for being alive, for wanting something so basic.
She bunched her hands into fists again, this time in an effort to restrain herself.

He continued to stare at her, his eyes roving over her face, and kept looking at her mouth.
She licked her lips. His eyes sharpened.

She could feel a blush creeping up her neck, along with a heavy warmth growing low in her belly.

Only one thing left to take care of. Which she had.

She rolled out of bed and went to her pile of belongings next to the bookshelf, returning to the bed with a package of condoms that she'd gotten from a gas station.

He watched her avidly, staring as she returned to the bed, his eyebrows rising when he realized what she was carrying.

She climbed back in but didn't lie down right away, and cleared her throat. “Do you want to have sex?”

She met his gaze, ignored the blush rushing up her neck. There. That should be strightforward enough.

“God, yes,” he burst out, and she couldn't have said who lunged at who first. They came together, wrapping their arms around each other, his strong, slender arms running up and down the back of her t-shirt while she slid her hands around his waist, tugging up the hem of his pajama top.

He gasped into her mouth at the first slide of her palms over his bare skin, and dug one hand into the hair on the back of her head, running his other hand up and down her back, and they kissed and they kissed.

She hooked her leg over his skinny hip and the growing hardness there. Helplessly he rocked against her and her mind went blank for several pleasant moments.

He drew his head back and panted, “Can I look at you?”

They were already practically touching everywhere, no space between them, but she nodded. No time for sarcasm, for crying out loud, and besides, she wanted to get a look at him, too.

Oh God, this was really happening. “Let's take our shirts off.”

He withdrew far enough so he could kneel on the bed and stripped off his shirt in one smooth movement.

Roxanne sat up to wriggle out of her own shirt, but a sudden horrifying thought caused her arms to clamp to her sides almost of their own accord. “Shit.”

He blinked at her, startled. He'd been about to drop his shirt onto the floor, but now he clutched it to his chest, eyes wide and panicky. “What? What is it?”

Her face flamed, with more embarrassment than passion, now. She grimaced. “I haven't...haven't shaved.” It'd been weeks. She felt hairy as an ape.

Megamind blinked. “Shaved?” he repeated, glancing up and down, searching for clues, his alarm mixed with confusion.

“Yes,” she said, in some exasperation. “My, you know, armpits. Legs.”

Understanding dawned and his face relaxed and his shoulders sagged as he exhaled, clearly relieved. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought you came to your senses. Don't worry about it, I have body hair, too.”

“It's different for men, and you damn well know it,” she said testily, chagrined about the entire situation. She frowned. “What do you mean, came to my senses?”

He shrugged one bare blue shoulder. “Well. You know. Just...I don't know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I never thought you'd be here. With me. Wanting to...do this?”

She clucked her tongue, and felt the tightness in her back relax a little. “Megamind, I've been wanting to do this with you for a while, now. I like you a lot, and you really are incredibly handsome.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, noting the way he bit his lip to fight back a shy smile, the way he ducked his head. “I really don't think you understand just how good looking you are, especially in that suit.” She tsked. “You've bragged about it often enough. What happened to the incredibly handsome Master of All Villainy?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up in a pleased, shy smile and he rubbed the back of his neck again. “Oh, you know. Showmanship. Have to sell the image.” The shirt in his grip lowered a little more. “Do you really think I'm handsome?” he asked shyly.

She might have made a sarcastic, cutting remark, but he looked so vulnerable that she didn't dare. “Yes,” she said simply, reaching over to touch his face, letting her thumb brush over the corner of his mouth.

He inhaled and leaned into her hand, eyes closing and throat working as he swallowed, and it occurred to Roxanne that maybe she ought to be a little more considerate of his boundaries, too.

“Can I?” she asked, moving her hand to gesture at the shirt bunched in his fist.

He swallowed again, soundlessly, then nodded, and she gently pushed the shirt aside, to drink in the sight of his slender chest and the thin smattering of black hair across his pectorals, the slightly darker nipples, his skinny waist and the sweep of his stomach.

His eyebrows wrinkled together as he tilted his head thoughtfully. “For what it's worth, it doesn't bother me. I am entirely neutral on the subject of body hair.”

“Well, I don't feel very sexy.” She snorted and shook her head, abashed that she'd spoiled the mood.

He edged closer, tossing his shirt aside and rising up on his knees and bringing his face close to hers. “I'll bet you have the most beautiful armpit hair in the world,” he said in a low voice.

She burst out laughing, feeling her cheeks heat ridiculously, but nonetheless relieved the mood had shifted more to what they'd had a few minutes ago. “You're just saying that to get laid.”

“I am completely serious and without any ulterior motives whatsoever,” he said haughtily, and his lips tugged up into a grin.

He leaned in a gave her a quick kiss. “Please don't tell me you're going to run off and shave,” he begged. Again he kissed her, a little longer. “Please. You got to look at me, I was hoping you would return the favor.”

His voice was pitched low and flirtatious by the end of the sentence, and he quirked his eyebrow suggestively, exaggeratedly, and she let out a completely undignified snort, feeling herself blush.

“Fair's fair,” she said lightly, but inside her stomach fluttered with nerves. God, what was this, it wasn't like she hadn't done this before, but it'd been a long time, and there was the extra body hair (no, not extra, it was just natural, it was shaving that was the unnatural thing), and this was Megamind.

Whom she really, really liked. It was suddenly a little disconcerting how much she liked him and wanted him to like her. Wanted to be worthy of the almost absurd amount of adoration he seemed to harbor for her.

Maybe it was because of his inexperience. Maybe if he...

No, she wasn't going to torture herself with 'maybe's'.

Roxanne sat back and stripped off her shirt, lowering her arms as quickly as possible.
He lifted a tentative hand, looking at her questioningly. She nodded, and he reached out, slipped one bra strap off her shoulder. She expected him to pull it down all the way to expose her breast, but he simply let the strap hang loose, and he leaned in to kiss her bared shoulder.

He was cautious, almost revenant in his movements, and at the touch of his lips a tingle ran across Roxanne's skin, set her nerve endings on fire. Her nipples were definitely hardening and he hadn't even gone there yet.

His hand had slipped around her waist, his long fingers warm.

Well, if he needed a little more encouragement, she was more than ready to give it to him, and she reached behind herself to unclasp the bra, pulling it off.

He backed away slightly, his nostrils flaring and eyes gleaming in the lamplight. She felt her breath catch, knew damn well her chest was rising and falling, might not have been planned, but God, she wanted his touch on her now, right now.

He bore her down into the mattress, and it became a mad scramble to see who could get out of their remaining clothes faster.

Roxanne got hung up in her underwear and pants mainly because he was on top of her and in the way, and then they were staring wide-eyed and panting into each other's faces, his erection pressed hard against the crease of her hip.

She was close, so close, to wrapping her legs around him and drawing him in, to guide him into her, they'd do it hot and fast, just like she wanted.

She remembered that it was his first time, and besides, the recollection of her hairy legs cooled her ardor a little, and she felt abruptly shy.

He looked at her in wonder, and his hands came up to frame her face, even as one of his thighs settled between her own, to press against her sex. “Is this all right?” he whispered, stroking one of her cheeks with his thumb.

Her hands trailed up and down his long back, but she stopped short of grabbing his ass. She could afford to go a little slower, even if heat was roaring through her. “More than all right,” she murmured. “Feels good.”

He groaned, closing his eyes and grinding against her. “Yes,” he groaned. “God, yes, so good. Do you...do you like it?” His hips stilled and his eyebrows knitted together worriedly.
She took hold of one of his hands and drew it down between them. “Here. Feel me here.”

She guided him into a gentle stroking of the spot between her thighs, the little bundle of nerves that sent fresh heat flooding her, his fingertips moving over the wetness. “See? You make me wet.”

It was difficult to tell in the half light of the room but she was sure he was blushing and he swallowed hard. He lowered his head to her breast, gave the nipple a tentative lick, making her breath hitch. She would like more of that.

“That's it,” she breathed, sliding one hand around the back of his smooth head. “Keep going.”

“You'll let me know if I do something you don't like?” he said in a hoarse voice.

God, they were both trembling. “Megs, believe me, you'll be the first to know. Kiss me,” she said, and proceeded to do so herself, lifting her head to seize his mouth with her own.

He rocked against her, still stroking over her cleft, and lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking. and she moaned into his mouth, “Now, take me, now.”

Pupils blown wide, he rose up to see what he was doing, and after fumbling to get the condom on, he guided himself into her.

She exhaled. He rocked his hips back and forth, looking down at where their bodies joined, and she squeezed around him.

He gasped, his eyes widening for a moment before closing in ecstacy and he groaned.

“Oh my God. You're...” He swallowed thickly. “I was aware of the muscles that make up the pelvic floor but didn't realize...”

Said in such a breathless voice of wonder that she couldn't quite hold back a brief huff of laughter. Only Megamind could make such a clinical observation sound sexy. “Yeah, that's right,” she said, running her hands over his sides and up the flat planes of his shoulderblades, enjoying the feel of his smooth flanks moving between her thighs. “I'm going to show you all kinds of...” She broke off with a gasp.

He was breathing harder, bracing himself on his elbows, his eyes piercing hers. She arched her back to press her breasts against him a little more.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, and his body thrust against her in a steady rhythm, faster, his eyes wide.

“That's it, Megs,” she murmured, squeezing around him. “Go on, baby. Let me see you come.”

Almost immediately his body went taut and his mouth fell open as he head leaned back, pulsing into her, and then his head fell forward and he muffled a groan against her shoulder.

She stroked his back, holding him close, her legs still firm around him while his panting slowed and he relaxed on top of her in a boneless heap, and she could feel him softening within her. With another quiet groan he slid to the side and wrapped an arm around her waist. She cuddled close to him and gave him a brief kiss, and he responded, lifting his face to hers, to give her more quick little kisses, warm and sweet.

The pulse of her blood was still going strong, but she tried to ignore it. This was enough. Time enough for him to learn how to pleasure her more, later.

Apparently he was more sensitive to her mood than she realized. He lifted his head. “Did you...come?” he asked uncertainly.

“Well, no,” she admitted. “But that's okay.”
His eyes flickered over her face. “Do you...want to show me? How it's, you know, done?”

A new heat spread over her cheeks. “Oh, I don't know.” God, she'd never really let any of her previous lovers watch her do that before. But none of them had ever seemed very interested, either.

Maybe that was part of the problem, she thought grimly.

“I'll do whatever you want,” he said sincerely. “Or...not do anything, if that's what you want. And if it's...I don't know...not the right time or something, you can stop.”

He looked anxious, but eager to please, and after a little more hesitation, she settled onto her back. “Well, okay. But...but don't talk. Or touch me. I think...I might close my eyes?” God, this was nerve-wracking.

He held up his hand solemnly. “Not a peep. I promise.”

So she closed her eyes. Somehow she found she could relax into it if she could pretend he wasn't watching her.

She touched herself, one hand stroking her clitoris while her other hand got busy tweaking one of her nipples, and he was as good as his word, and didn't talk or try to touch her, which she was sure would have distracted her, and she worried briefly that he might feel insulted or something, that she didn't want him to touch her just then, but it didn't take very long for her to climax, their recent lovemaking had primed her most deliciously, and she came, gasping, then opened her eyes and reached for him.

“Come here,” she said, and to her delight he was hard again and had been stroking himself, but he'd been so quiet.

Somehow the thought was such a turn-on she drew him inside her.

It was quick and hot, with little of the quiet reverence as before, but just right, and she lightly nipped at his neck to spur him on, and he again muffled a cry against her shoulder.

They lay breathlessly tangled together, her forehead pressed against his temple. “That was,” he swallowed hard. “Quick.”

She felt a low chuckle rise out of her at the almost-question in his voice. “I loved it,” she assured him. “Just what I wanted.” She leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth and he grinned, wide and showing every tooth, skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes, looking very pleased with himself.

“But I think I'm ahead of the game, so to speak,” he said wryly, and his hand began to travel down her body. “Want me to...”

She grabbed his wrist. “No! I mean, that was so good, Megs, believe me, but I feel like if you touch my clit now I'll explode. I'm overstimulated.”

“Oh. Well, we wouldn't want any unnecessary explosions. But my goodness,” he said in a voice of quiet wonder. “You really do get wet.”

She couldn't help but chuckle, giggling helplessly against him for a few moments. “You sound so surprised.”

She tossed a significant glance toward his bookshelf, where the row of romance novels were in view. He smiled sheepishly, squiriming a little with embarrassment.

“You must have read about it,” she said.

“Yes, I suppose,” he hedged. “It's certainly... different... having a...a live performance, as it were.”

She laughed, looking up at his face. “Performance? What, you think that was faked?”

He was briefly alarmed, but relaxed when he realized she was teasing. “Oh, you know what I mean. That wasn't the right word. Um. Example?” He scrunched up his nose. “Too clinical. Miss Ritchi, you have completely wrecked my vocabulary.”

She leaned up on one elbow to press a kiss to his lips. “Just one of my many skills.”

He wrapped his arms around her again as she nestled into the crook of his neck. There was a little silence, but the air turned heavy with unspoken thoughts, and Roxanne felt some irritation at the pressing matters that were currently settling around them. She would have liked to linger in bed longer without worries or concerns, but there was a city to take care of.

“Hot Flash got her powers back. And she's been palling around with my mother. Just a heads up.”

He hummed a little, and seemed to be taking some time wrapping his head around this piece of news, his hand idly stroking her back. “Are they planning a coup?” he asked.

She snorted with laughter and rubbed her eyes. “Don't give them any ideas.” She bit her lip, and then told him the worst of it. “There's more,” she said, and he gave her an inquisitive look, wary.

“I get the feeling I'm not going to like this.”

“Um. Well...” She told him about how Psycho Delic came to be living in the safe zone.

To say it killed the mood was an understatement.