Ma-ri

It was always a treat, getting to accompany her on these heists. Well, “accompany” might have been stretching the definition a bit. He was definitely present at the same time as her, even if they weren’t… technically… there together.

Even if he was hovering around fifteen feet above her (usually he preferred to stay between twenty and thirty, just to make sure he was harder to spot if she happened to look up, but he was a bit too… preoccupied at present to focus on his field).

Even if she didn’t know he was there.

But it still counted in his mind, and thank goodness for that because otherwise, she would have been completely alone. The man in the black mask (matching hers, he tried not to think about how his gut twisted if he thought about that too much) had left, taking the handful of lower ranked members that had (actually) accompanied them with him, piling them into a nondescript sedan along with their stolen goods and driving off. Ray had- purposefully- dropped his altitude during the altercation that preceded the split, listening intently as Maddie and her… coworker? Associate? He was loathe to call the petulant man her “partner”, even if it was just a partner in crime (and there was a growing pile of evidence that indicated it wasn’t…).

Well, whatever he was was, there had been a slight concern that their little spat might escalate, potentially becoming physical. The last thing he needed was to spook her by swooping down in full costume and folding this so-called “Double Vision” asshole like an origami swan. Even if he claimed (truthfully in this case) that he was simply doing his duty in protecting a civilian from what he could only assume was a violent altercation, the terror of being approached by a hero mere minutes after committing several felonies would forever poison the well and ensure that she never saw him as anything but a threat. Thankfully, their tiff had remained just that, and even when Ray opened the channels of his mind and let their thoughts flow into his head, all he got was an overwhelming sense of annoyance from both parties. This battle was an old one, practically generational.

But even if his darling little glimmer of starlight was unharmed and unworried about making her way back home alone in the dead of night, that didn’t mean he was. Letting a woman weave through dark alleys all by her lonesome was downright unheroic. He was keeping her safe, truly. Watching the way those tight athletic pants clung to her ass, the inner seam pressing into her pussy enough for him to practically make out the swell of her lips as she crawled through a hole in one of the chain-link fences… that was just a happy coincidence. After all, she mostly wore baggy clothes in the daylight hours- not that he couldn’t still appreciate the swell of her breasts accentuated by the logo of whatever black tee-shirt she was wearing that day.

But her villain get-up, as casual as it was, marked such a departure from her usual aesthetic that even the most mundane things seemed eroticised to the point of lewdity. Seriously; just catching a glimpse of her ankle, the way the skin shifted as the joint rotated, had his dick hard and leaking. What the hell was wrong with him, getting all hot and bothered over an ankle like some deeply repressed Victorian lord? Why didn’t he get hard this easily when he was having sex? Maybe it was a fetish? A villain fetish? But if that were the case, why was it just manifesting now? Why with this… what, G-lister? As Maddie climbed back to her feet, she unzipped her cropped jacket, allowing him an unobstructed view of her throat all the way down to the dip of her clavicle as she rolled her neck in a stretch. His hips jerked of their own accord and he bit his lip until he could taste the faintest trace of copper to stifle the moan desperately climbing up his throat.

At any other time, he might have cut his losses and flown home to jerk off in peace, but… this really was a bad part of town and he really did worry that leaving her on her own might be dangerous. And honestly, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to notice him; just the subject of his strange fascination, and in the five months he’d been tailing her, she hadn’t looked up once. No one in their little gang had. Had they forgotten that justice roamed the skies and no darkness could withstand his light, or were they simply so arrogant as to think they were untouchable? Frankly, Ray didn’t care. Be it arrogance, naivety, or plain old stupidity- whatever the reason, it worked in his favor.

The seam allowances on his suit were annoyingly small, which meant zippers were even smaller. Normally, he used his telekinesis to undo them, but while just about any natural-born telekinetic could split their field at least two ways, as long as he wanted to stay airborne, he was stuck using his hands. And between the tiny zipper and the thickness of his gloves, it was frustrating enough that, if the ache between his legs was coming from his bladder, he would have just pissed in the suit rather than continue fighting it. Alas, arousal was a more powerful motivator than he ever would have imagined- for the first time in his life, he understood why men would seemingly move heaven and earth just to get laid.

Finally wresting open his fly, the cool night air on his overheated skin sent a shiver through him that ended up feeding back into his arousal. Wrapping a hand around his shaft, he began stroking himself hard and fast, copious amounts of pre-cum easing what otherwise would have been unbearable friction from textured gloves. Even in the privacy of his bedroom with all the time he could reasonably expect, Ray never felt the need to build up to an orgasm. If he was at the point of jerking off, he was horny enough and, more often than not, it was simply another bodily function that just needed to be taken care of. Lately, it had become more enjoyable, simply by want of actually experiencing sexual desire when he was doing it, but he still didn’t feel the need to draw it out unnecessarily. For as good as it felt, there was no urge to prolong it, so when Maddie’s voice reached him, and he felt his balls start to draw up, he quickened the pace of his strokes.

Her voice was unintelligible and just audible enough for him to make out that she was singing something under her breath. It wasn’t surprising; she sang all the time, even while breaking into cars or homes (one would guess that was the reason behind her villainous nom de guerre). He assumed it was a way of self soothing, calming what had to be harried thoughts, but at the moment, all he could think was what that range of dulcet tones would sound like moaning his name.

‘Ah, fuck, keep making those pretty sounds for me… I’d have you singing my name all night, Star; I’d conduct a fucking symphony on that sweet pussy of yours…’

He was so caught up in the visions playing out in his mind that he barely noticed that Maddie- and by extension, he himself- had stopped moving. Maybe because there was still motion below him, his star swaying a bit as she tapped out something on the tablet she’d pulled from some interior pocket of her jacket.

“Heh, you keep doin’ that, you’re gonna go blind, sugar pie…” Huh? Slowly, almost too slowly to feel natural, like he was watching something in a dream, the woman below him turned around and tilted her head back, back, craning her neck all the way until she was looking at him. At least, he assumed she was; the eyes of the demonic half-mask she wore were gilded the same as the horns, obscuring her own eyes. The massive fangs that protruded from the carved smile of Double Vision’s mask were the same gold and hid his mouth. Maddie’s mouth was exposed, the massive grin she was sporting putting all her teeth, white and small and just a little crooked in places, on full display.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” She… she wasn’t talking to him. “Man, you are just going to town on that thing!” She couldn’t be. “I gotta say, Binary Star being a full-on exhibitionist was not on my bingo card.” No, this… this wasn’t happening. This… was just a nightmare, h-he was going to wake up at any moment-- “Aww, what’re you doing? Don’t stop on my account. Keep going. Wait!” She backed up, not running, not in any kind of hurry, just about two steps back, raising her hand and pulling it back as well. That was a… strange motion, but one that ultimately made perfect sense as a thin black rectangle floated from its previous position at his side to the front of him. A phone, whatever make and model he wouldn’t have been able to tell even in full daylight (all smartphones produced after 2006 looked interchangeable to him), tilted in such a way that, while he was certain his whole body was in frame, it was obvious the focus of the shot was on his dick, which he was still holding, even if his hand had stilled.

“Okay,” Maddie practically chirped. “Now keep going.” She was talking to him. His bright little star, a singular light amidst the haze of pollution, was saying words directly to him, looking directly at him… There was no fear; she spoke as if they were old friends… She had realized he was following her… she was watching him masturbate, filming it- for who knew how long?

Over the last two or so decades, a shift had begun taking place inside of him, so subtle and gradual that he didn’t really even notice it until a few years ago. A dimming of sorts had happened. Colors were muted, sounds muffled; the entire world seemed to have washed out, leaving everything a bit faded… and that included Ray himself. He had never really been happy- there wasn’t much in his life to be happy about, honestly- but these days, he didn’t feel… anything anymore. Not really. The anger that used to sweep over him had dulled to a perpetual annoyance, disgust morphed into a faint irritation, fear… honestly, he probably hadn’t been afraid since the day he left Steel’s house fifteen years ago. After all, what was there for Binary Star to be afraid of?

The answer was about fifteen feet below him, still swaying a bit, holding a tablet and beaming at him with a shit-eating grin. Arousal curdled into horror that churned in his stomach and drenched the inside of his suit with a cold sweat. The phone was out of reach (especially when it was on the side of the arm that was still holding his dick), and his field dexterity was below that of all but the youngest, most inept children. The pressure built behind his eyes, the peripherals of his vision turning red--

“Ah ah ah! That’s a mistake!” He blinked, and the heat dissipated. “I’m not exactly live-streaming, but I am streaming this to a private server. A server I keep… contingency plans on. And if, for any reason, I don’t log into that server for more than 18 hours, all those ‘contingency plans’ do get live-streamed. Not just on multiple accounts on every social media platform, but other places. Archives. The dark web. This’ll go up right next to that video of you turning that Los Perreros mule into a meat pinata.” What was she talking about- how the fuck did she know about that? NAHA said they scrubbed every copy of that video off the internet. If it were anybody- literally anybody else- saying those words to him, Ray would have taken his chances and removed their head from their body by now. But… if he hadn’t been able to kill Maddie that first night, there was no chance of it now. To hurt her, to even think of extinguishing the sole source of light in his dim, miserable world… that was a type of sickness he hadn’t felt since that day. He swallowed, but his mouth still felt wretchedly dry.

“What do you want?”

“Well, right now, I want you to finish jerking off.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” There was no humor in her tone this time. “You’re still at about half mast- honestly; respect- so… cum and then we’ll talk.” …it had to be a fetish. Because that was the only logical explanation as to why, even in the horrific scenario he’d found himself in, his dick still jerked and began hardening once more just at the sound of his star telling (ordering) him to cum.

With a shaky inhale, he began stroking again. It was impossible to find a comfortable rhythm; he didn’t want to drag this out by going too slow, but the thought of going too fast and seeming too eager made him want to crawl under a rock and die. He didn’t know where to look, he was suddenly far too aware of every part of his body; honestly, the last time he’d felt this uncomfortable masturbating had been back in the NAHA facility when he was eleven. But that awkward discomfort hadn’t stopped him then, and it wasn’t going to stop him now.

Risking a glance downwards, he noticed that Maddie hadn’t shifted even slightly. She had to be looking at him. Was she… enjoying this? It would be easy to tell- he could pull back that mental curtain, peer into her thoughts… but what if she wasn’t? What if she was disgusted by him, despised him? He mentally shook his head to clear away those horrible thoughts. It was Schrödinger’s judgment, and for the sake of his own sanity, he was going to choose to believe that she was watching because she got something positive out of it. With that in mind, he allowed his gaze to grow bolder, roving down her body to land once more on wide hips and thick thighs and the junction between them, groaning slightly as he let his imagination run free, envisioning how he could tear that thin lycra like tissue paper to reveal the treasure beneath. His mouth, his hands, his dick- hell, even his field; he wanted to experience what it felt like to have as much of himself inside her as possible.

His hips bucked into his fist as he felt his orgasm begin to crest, and for one horrible moment, he wondered what it would be like to simply land and play out his fantasies in real life. To tear her silly costume (if it could even be called that) off and push her up against the filthy brick wall and finish those final pumps it would take to push him over the edge inside that sweet pussy he had been dreaming of. She probably wouldn’t take too kindly to that, would probably scream and try to fight him off, but… it’s not like that could actually stop him. Women fighting back hadn’t stopped Steel, after all. And that was what snapped him out of it, that thought; ‘Are you Steel Sheriff…?’ No, but for a moment that lasted only a heart’s beat and an eternity all at once, he’d thought like him. And the thought itself was what pushed him over the edge.

A few more pumps, flicking his wrist and focusing on the head, and he came with a choked moan and a staccato jerking of the hips. The afterglow never lasted very long, the regeneration that kept his body regulated cycling through any burst of hormones rather quickly, even the pleasant ones. A few deep breaths later, and he was once again returned to unpleasant reality at hand. There was no dignified way to tuck his now flaccid dick back into his suit; why the fuck hadn’t NAHA taught him how to not look like an idiot in an embarrassing sexual situation instead of wasting time with media training? At the very least Maddie wasn’t pointing and (openly) laughing at him, waiting until he was zipped up to gesture for him to come closer with a nonchalant yet oddly elegant curl of her fingers.

(How would those fingers feel on his skin?)

(He wanted to put them in his mouth)

(…the hell? Where had that thought come from?)

(Goddammit, he just came- how was he getting hard again!?)

Thoroughly annoyed with both his body and mind, Ray alighted back on terra firma, leaving a good three feet between himself and his strange fixation (an arbitrary distance that was in no part enforced by his attempt to not step in any of the conspicuously milky puddles on the asphalt, no sir). At some point, Maddie’s phone had returned to her hand and she had been typing something on the cracked screen before putting it in sleep mode and returning both it and the tablet to their respective hidden pockets. With her full attention on him, she was no longer leering with that wicked smile. She looked, to be sure- intensely and upon every square inch of him if the motions of her head were anything to go by, but her full lips remained a neutral line. Finally she stilled, her attention turned (presumably) to his face.

“You’re a lot taller in person than you look on TV.”

“I get that a lot,” he muttered. Ray didn’t know how he felt about this whole situation. On the one hand, he was elated that his little star hadn’t taken off running the moment he’d been spotted, that his mind hadn’t been inundated with a flood of terrified, disgusted thoughts reviling him for being a disgusting pervert… but on the other hand, of all the ways he would have wanted to finally make contact with this newfound obsession, being sexually blackmailed into it was definitely near the bottom of his list. With a deep breath and sigh that didn’t sound nearly as shaky as it felt, he ripped the bandage off. “What do you want? Money? Information? ‘Clout’?” He hated the way that word felt on his tongue, and judging by the way Maddie physically recoiled, she hated the way it felt in her ears.

“Ugh, it sounds so hateful when you say it. Like a slur. But to answer your question, no, no, and definitely not.”

“Then what do you want?” She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, and he was once again reminded of that cat she’d stumbled across, the way it had looked at her as she squealed and cooed at it in the most insufferable baby talk he’d ever heard. Did looking at something at a 15 degree angle help you understand it better?

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you kill me as soon as you realized I was filming you?” The better question was, why hadn’t he killed her five months ago?

“I-I’m a hero; heroes don’t--”

“Don’t piss in my mouth and tell me it’s La Croix.” For the first time since he’d noticed her noticing him, she sounded irritated. “I’ve seen you vivisect a man. So why haven’t you split me down the middle?” She made a slicing motion from the top of her head down to her chest to illustrate her point, and Ray’s traitorous mind quickly filled in the gaps, painting a vivid picture of organs spilling out as the two halves of her fell open like a macabre flower, pooling blood overtaking the meager splattering of his arousal. It was only weeks of practice in Pará that had him preemptively slam his lips shut against the mouthful of vomit he threatened to spit up. Swallowing the bile, he kept his eyes fixed on an empty bottle behind her shoe, not trusting himself to look directly at her just yet.

“…because I don’t want to.” He expected her to scoff, to laugh in his face, to call him out on his bullshit. It was the honest-to-god truth, but even to his ears it sounded like a lie. But if he’d ever been able to predict this woman before him, he wouldn’t have been so fascinated by her, now would he?

“…that’s as good a reason as any, I guess.” He blinked, taken aback.

“You believe me?”

“Should I not? Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So. That being the case, what I want from you is twofold. One!” She held a finger up in front of his face. “I don’t know why you’re following me and I don’t particularly want to know. But I don’t want heroes” she actually made air quotes as she sneered, “and law enforcement to know my comings and goings, so from now, if you ever see me again, no the fuck you don’t. Keep my actions and whereabouts out of NAHA’s databases.” A guarantee that he wasn’t going to cart her off to prison- Ray should have seen that coming. Given that he’d been following her for weeks and witnessed her commit multiple felonies in that time, it was safe to say he’d never had any intention of turning her in, but he still made a show of acting beleaguered, sighing heavily, shoulders slumping, the whole shebang.

“I suppose I have no choice. And your second demand?” Her smile came back. Not a full smile, just a little quirk of the corner of her mouth that made his stomach flip uncomfortably.

“Your phone number.” That he wouldn’t have seen coming under any circumstance.

“My… huh?”

“Number. You have a phone, yes? Some way of communicating over telecom lines? So, can I have it? Can I have your number? Can I get the ten digits that comprise your number~?”

“Why?”

“So I can call you. Obviously.” Instantly his mind began racing, trying to figure out what nefarious reasons she could have for wanting to call him. A set up, some misguided attempt to take out Binary Star? Surely she couldn’t be that stupid. For the first time since her argument with Double Vision, Ray opened the channel of his telepathy, allowing her thoughts to pour into his head.

/--‘your number, your number; can I have your number? Your phone number and area code?’ God, I am never gonna forget that until I die…/

Well, that was less than helpful. Maybe this was a joke- maybe she intended to post his number online so annoying fans could harass him? It would hardly be the first time he’d changed numbers.

“I suppose that’s… acceptable.” It took a moment to remember the current string of ten digits he was using; it wasn’t as though he had cause to remember his own number. The only people who called him were those affiliated with NAHA, and they always knew how to reach him. Any “dates” were set up by handlers, including exchanges of contact information, and honestly, Ray saw those glorified publicity stunts as yet another aspect of his job. It wasn’t as though he had friends, family… there was no one outside of work for him to talk to… Once she finished entering the number into her contacts, Maddie once more fixed him with a tight-lipped smile that looked especially wicked when paired with those gleaming horns.

“I don’t make calls often, but I will text. And I expect you to respond.” Another strange flip-flop in his gut, brought on less by her words and more so her tone. It didn’t feel great, but he didn’t dislike it either. Maybe that was what spurred him to push back, just a little.

“And if I don’t?”

“Well, releasing a sex tape worked for the Kardashians- I guess it can work out for you, too. All those sex shops that make unlicensed Binary Star dildos can at least have a decent reference to work off. Oh! Before I forget, you might wanna get that mole on your dick checked out.” The chill slipped down his spine, into his stomach, and all he could do was stand there, gaping like an idiot, as she gave him a bitchy little wave and traipsed off.

Ray avoided social media- he hadn’t really used the internet until he was eighteen, and by that time, it had advanced to the point where it just confused and frustrated him. Besides, he had handlers and PR people to deal with that, to run the accounts on Twitter and Instagram under his name. If there had been any kind of credible threat to his wholesome image (no- fanart and lookalikes doing parody porn didn’t count, much to the chagrin of the NAHA’s marketing department), he would’ve known almost immediately. It seemed that Maddie had kept up her end of their bargain, but even so, he refrained from trailing her for a while. He wasn’t worried about some stupid scandal; he was worried about what she thought of him. Was she afraid he’d go back on his word and send a SWAT team after her? Had she taken to wearing hoods and carrying an umbrella for fear of getting caught in a localized downpour of something that wasn’t quite water? …had she immediately told that Double Vision asshole what happened and now they were both laughing at him…?

Ugh, just thinking about that made his gut churn. He hadn’t felt this bad in decades, his healing factor usually keeping his body too stable for anything but a general sense of malaise. That was probably why he didn’t register his phone ringing until the vibration ran up his thigh. Fishing the brick from his pocket, Ray frowned and squinted, as though that would change what was written on the screen. “Private Number”. It took a few long seconds for his brain to catch up with his eyes. A private, unknown number? How could someone even reach-- the realization struck him and he fumbled to swipe right before the ringing stopped.

“Four rings.” A disappointed clucking from the other end. “We gotta work on your reaction time.” Maddie. He was about to refer to her by name, before he remembered that as far as she knew, he didn’t actually know her name.

“Who is this?” If the hero thing hadn’t gone through, he still would’ve had a promising chance as a child star. He couldn’t sing, but he could sure as hell act.

“Oh, I guess you don’t know me. Hmm. How’s about you call me ‘Bard’? I’m the poor, delicate maiden you busted a nut to the other night.” Ray choked back a scoff. Delicate? He’d seen pit bulls more delicate than her (not that that was a bad thing- the fact that someone who seemed so hard-bitten and borderline aggressive could at the same time be so gentle charmed him to no end).

“I’ll keep that in mind. Did you need something?”

“Nah, mostly just checking to make sure you haven’t forgotten our arrangement. You’re not hispanic, are you?” That threw him for a loop.

“No, why- do I look hispanic?”

“You could be very diluted. But no, I ask because the number you gave me is registered to one ‘Miguel Sanchez’ and… that didn’t sound right. You don’t look like a ‘Miguel’- you look like a ‘Trevor’.” …somehow, that was more insulting than if she’d just called him a cracker.

“I’m not going to have a phone registered in my name, especially with a number that could so easily fall into villainous hands.” He wondered if she would take offense at his little dig. If she did, it didn’t register in her voice.

“So your name’s not Miguel or Trevor?”

“…no.”

“Well, that’s two down. So, what’s up, Lefty?” He frowned slightly.

“Why are you calling me ‘Lefty’?”

“Because your dick curves to the left.”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“It does.” Good fucking lord, how intently had she been looking at it!? Was she just studying that video frame by frame!?

“I don’t care; don’t call me that!”

“Sure thing, mole dick!” The sheer delight in her voice made his heart flutter, and coupled with the nerve-wracking embarrassment he was feeling, Ray had to duck his head between his knees until the urge to vomit fully passed.

“…‘Lefty’ is fine.”

“Thought so. Quick question- where are you going to be patrolling tonight?”

“Huh? What makes you think--”

“Don’t play cute with me.” Once again, that short, sharp tone returned. “I know you spend all day doing ‘respectable’ hero work for photo ops and kill gang members under the cover of darkness. You probably have a list of targets to hit, so where are you going to be tonight?” …most people didn’t think of heroes doing dirty work. That was the purview of squads in bulletproof vests carrying assault rifles, not caped crusaders in spandex (read: ballistic nylon). He was supposed to be a symbol of hope, a shining light in the eyes of people, not some shady assassin… Maddie must’ve taken his silence as defiance, and her next words were completely devoid of any levity. “If I die, I will ruin your life from beyond the grave. You know jerking off is the least horrifying thing you’ve been caught on tape doing, right? The shit you’ve done to people makes cartel killings look tame. And most people don’t know about it because it’s on the dark web and they have no idea what that is, but if I get caught up in one of your raids, every goddamn ten year old on Tik Tok is going to see you melting a man’s face off.” Sighing deeply, Ray pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“…there’s a warehouse on East 8th street that apparently has an industrial meth lab. Is that one of your endeavors?” He already knew it wasn’t, already knew she mostly dealt in theft and selling pills, already knew about the pawnshop and autobody shop that acted as her little gang’s money laundering fronts… but she didn’t know he knew, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Hell no- that shit’s poison. Good to know, good to know. Well, that’s all I wanted from you. I’ll text you later~” She hung up before he could even begin to think of a response, and once the line clicked off, he was left staring at his reflection against the dull gray screen. If anyone else had seen him, they would be ashamed at what he had been reduced to, cowering from and taking orders from some two-bit criminal, but Ray himself knew he hadn’t been reduced to anything. There was nothing to be reduced down.

Leaning back against the cushions of his sofa, he huffed in amusement. Lefty. Being teased and getting embarrassing nicknames was a part of growing up, wasn’t it? In the facility, they mostly called him by his designation… “Ray” was technically a nickname, but how many people actually knew the name on his birth certificate was “Raymond”? Maybe if he had actually been treated like a normal boy even once in his life, he wouldn’t have practically had an allergic reaction to it just now. His phone buzzed and he groaned, wondering what Herschel wanted to bitch at him about now. There was no name attached to the alert, once again “Private Number”. Opening the message, that terrifying flutter in his chest came back as his body seemed to fluctuate from hot to cold and back again in seconds.

Here ya go. You look like the kind of freak who’s into feet. See, I can be nice~

He tapped on the attached image before he even realized his thumb had moved, filling his screen. Ray had never, in his life, been “into” feet. Or breasts, or pecs, or asses or anything. Whenever interviewers asked what he looked for in a partner, he always gave a non-answer like “a nice smile” or “their personality” as if the NAHA cared about anything like that. He wasn’t “into” feet, he reminded himself as his gaze roved over the expanse of smooth brown skin and faintest hint of blue beneath the surface, the curves of the arch and ankle… her nails were painted a bright, cherry red.

Once he had finished fisting his dick and cleaning up the resulting mess, Ray quickly pulled up several different porn sites, harriedly looking up several combinations of keywords for some very scientifically unsound research. Five minutes and eight open tabs later, he breathed a sigh of relief as he mentally reasoned that it wasn’t a fetish if it only turned him on when it was one specific person. That made him feel a little better.

It took another week before Ray’s nerves had settled enough for him to feel it was safe to return to his old (or rather, new) hobby, though he never dropped below twenty feet again. True to his word, any time there was a break in or a suspicious instance of several gang members turning up dead with no visible injuries in an area where NAHA’s GPS pinged him, he unfortunately always seemed to be busy dealing with something else. Funny how that happened.

And true to her word, Maddie (or “Bard”, as she informed him) did not call again, but her text messages were somewhat regular. At least once a week, she would demand to know if and where he would be assisting in raids, and occasionally reward him with another picture (it honestly seemed like she was mostly just showing off her collection of nail polish) but every so often, she would send something he couldn’t really make heads or tails of.

Pictures, usually screenshots of cartoons, with captions he was pretty sure weren’t taken from the shows themselves. Pictures of different animals, usually cats (sometimes even her own), videos of short comedy sketches… It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t seem to expect reciprocation, so he had no idea what any of it meant. Loathe as he was to make a fool of himself, he sent a response one day asking exactly why she was sending him all that nonsense.

Oh, is this your work phone? Are you not allowed to look at memes on the clock? Should’ve said that before I sent all those feet pics…

This is my personal phone. Why are you sending me these things?

…bruh, I send everyone shit like this. What, do your friends not link you things they think are interesting?

Ray hadn’t even noticed the phone slipping from his fingers, his entire body feeling numb as the blood rushing through his ears grew louder. Friends… friends? Binary Star didn’t have friends; he had sidekicks he barely tolerated and arranged dates he despised and work associates whose deaths he prayed for. And Ray… Ray didn’t have anyone, not since--

(don’t think about it)

Ray just existed as some pale, soft, disgusting thing that emerged from Binary Star’s exoskeleton at the end of the day, hiding away until his red white and blue shell hardened and that picture-perfect smile was locked in place. Even if he’d been hiding on a certain someone’s balcony more than his far-too-large penthouse these days, the fact remained that no one wanted anything to do with him outside of the role he played.

Except for one person, it seemed. Maybe she was just trying to butter him up, make him lower his guard, keep herself in his good graces- it didn’t matter. No one else had ever so much as made the effort. Maybe deep down, a part of her viewed him as another cat on the street, something to be cooed over for a while. Maybe if she saw him on her balcony, peering into her apartment through the gap in her curtains, she would invite him in and let him have a place amongst the other strays rubbing against her ankles. That was too ridiculous a dream, and yet it was such a pleasant fantasy that he barely noticed the buzzing against his thigh. Tilting his head away from the now-warmed glass, Ray opened his messages, not even bothering to try and suppress the smile tugging at his lips as he saw it was from his star. What silly “meme” had she sent him this time?

Send me a video of you jerking off.

…that wasn’t a meme. He stared at the screen, willing the words to translate into a language he could understand because this wasn’t it. What… on earth could she…?

Why?

So I can send it TMZ /s

So I can watch it. Obviously.

Maybe she thought that made sense, but no- it really didn’t.

Why would you want to watch something like that?

Thank god for texting, because he would not have been able to keep his voice from breaking if he’d spoken.

I’ve watched the video I took too many times. It’s getting stale. I need something new.

Too many times… so she had been watching it. And now she “needed something new”? Was she…? Ray all but threw himself away from the balcony door out of sheer instinct, fearfully staring at the backs of his shaking hands, examining every pore for the tell-tale sign of that horrible glow… Usually, the only thing that resulted in a surge of heat that strong was his birth ability triggering, but… no… His skin remained as dull as ever, and lifting his hands to his eyes, he didn’t see any light reflected back. So his racing heart and quickened breaths and the stiffness rising between his legs were all natural, then.

‘God, you are going to be the death of me, Star…’

It was dangerous, downright stupid, to send a known villain yet more incriminating evidence, but the thought of her watching him as she fingered herself, using him to get off, was too intoxicating to think straight. Settling himself back in front of the curtain gap, he pulled the waistband of his sweats down just enough to free his quickly hardening dick. The videos he took on his phone (evidence of completed missions) always had massive file sizes, so he would just film the climax. As he peeked into the apartment, he could see the back of her head over the back of the sofa, the TV's glare shining through the ends of her curls like a halo.

Given what he knew from months of observation, she probably wasn’t even looking at it, staring at her phone instead. Maybe… watching that video again, fingers working over her clit but unable to reach her peak because she’d built up a tolerance watching the same motions, hearing the same heavy breaths and groans… Did she replay certain parts? Were there close-up shots? Ray brought the neck of his sweater between his teeth to muffle his panting, but it did nothing for the lewd squelching as pre-cum dribbled between his fingers and dripped onto the poured cement between his thighs. For a moment, he imagined what it'd feel like to have Maddie’s hands working his shaft, her hands so much smaller than his, and probably softer too, but just as quickly, his mind axed that notion.

Binary Star’d had no shortage of eager fans of all genders and persuasions offering to pleasure him in whatever way he saw fit, but when given more exclusive access to the number one hero than anyone else in the world, his star had simply demanded he touch himself. For her pleasure. A far more vivid fantasy was conjured, of those curtains pulling back and Maddie standing just on the other side of the glass, looking down at him, not in shock or disgust but… reserved expectation. Head tilted curiously to the side, waiting to see if he would impress her with his pitiful display of devotion.

He was grateful he could hear the TV from out here, because if it had been any quieter, she surely would’ve heard his choked moan in there. Tightening his grip, his tempo swung from languid strokes up and down the length of his shaft, to short, rapid jerking focused on his glans, the only variance coming when his hips bucked of their own accord, throwing off his rhythm. He could already feel his balls drawing up, and as he pressed his thumb against his leaking slit, his clean hand fumbled for his phone, haphazardly pulling up the camera. The orange haze of light pollution provided just enough light for his pallid skin to show up against the dark- a small miracle because the light from the flash would have definitely been noticed.

Making sure his dick was in focus, he tapped ‘record’, moaning and panting just a little more freely as he squeezed his deeply flushed tip. As the pleasure crescendoed, his head fell back and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning a name that he still wasn’t supposed to know. The wet splattering of his cum hitting the glass with force sent another jolt of arousal up his dick and throughout his nervous system and he continued stroking until the over-stimulation began to lean towards painful. Breathing hard, he looked down at the mess he had made, angling the camera up slightly to better capture the milky streaks running down the glass.

“Hope this ends up being as good for you as it was for me,” he muttered, his words a rumble deep in his chest. He couldn’t stop the smile curling his lips as he wiped the cum on his hand off on the glass. “Enjoy, Bard~”

DONE! I'm finally free! This scene in Syzygy is far more graphic...

...but I wasn't trying to capture that visceral body horror- this was meant to be more religious (the pose is literally from a depiction of Jesus and St. Thomas). This time, the halos (and the outline) are in silver rather than my usual gold (because of course the closest I've ever gotten to a self-insert is going to be associated with silver; it's in the name).