Page 15 of Infamous Heart

“You rescued me.” Disbelief. The sexy man who had flirted with me over drinks and experienced his first slice of Lando’s pizza, he was a superhero? My geek dreams had come true.

“I need to get you home.”

“So, you can chase Wraith and save the day?”

“I don’t care what that crazy woman decides to do with her night.” He fished around for his suit jacket, buttoning up his shirt while I stared like a kid at the candy store. Taking my hand, he escorted me from the alley. Once on the street with the theaters, the people returned, moving to their destinations for the night.

“I’m anything but a hero.”

Not to me, Sebastian.

6

I can’t tellif the impossibility of sleep was from the thrill of nearly being killed by a b-list supervillain, or discovering the secret identity of a superhero. The taxi ride from the theater district, across the bridge to the Ward had been a silent one. I didn’t want to pry, and he hadn’t offered any explanations.

As we walked toward my building, he finally spoke up. “Please,” he begged, “don’t tell anybody.”

I swore to keep it a secret, but in truth, I didn’t know what I was keeping a secret. Did he not want the world to know he had powers, or did he not want his secret identity put on display? The questions were piling up, and quickly I spun myself in circles.

With that, he dropped me off at my apartment, gave me a hug with a kiss on the cheek, and left. My mind was reeling, and I didn’t have the bandwidth to question why it ended with just a friendly peck. Had I been in my right mind, I’d have ignored his superpowers and invited him up for coffee. If all went well, it’d have ended with breakfast.

For the first hour, I sorted through every hero on the HeroApp™. Light Lord? Too skinny. Storm King? Twenty-years too old. Blue Bolt? Not cyborg enough. Despite running through every hero, none of them matched the physique of Sebastian Taylor. Were his powers new? My mind continued to race with questions.

I had decided to take that nervous energy and do something productive with it. Sitting at my easel, mixing paints on my palette, reminded me of why I loved art. I funneled all these questions into the anxious brush strokes. What started as an urban landscape similar to the streets of the theater district, pivoted to painting the dashing man who saved me.

It started with the black and white suit. When it came time to start mapping out his face, it only seemed logical to use Sebastian as my inspiration. When he transformed, what usually happened to his clothes? Did he fight naked? There was something hot about imagining him nude, but more so wielding this ethereal energy while he remained exposed.

The painting was a long way from done, but if I stayed up any later, I’d never get out of bed in the morning. Not that I had a job demanding punctuality. I dropped the brushes into a mason jar filled with muddy colored water. Rolling my chair away from the canvas, the painting was looking pretty good for my first attempt in years. His clenched fist needed more definition, and the lighting came across as flat, but I found myself satisfied.

“Sebastian has powers.” It still wasn’t processing. The statement threatened to make my head implode. Instead, I opted for something I could wrap my head around.

“Dear God, he’s into me.”

Sebastian had an air of confidence about him; not quite cocky, but enough if he wanted something, he’d go for it. It was obvious that he was good at it, or how else would he have gotten the art director position? Creative and handsome, it was a dangerous combination.

“Why the hell are you into me?” I asked the replica of him on the canvas, shocked that it didn’t respond to the question. “Why the hellareyou into me?”

I had been so caught up with Sebastian and his powers, my geeky curiosity washed aside my romantic feelings. He had everything he could ask for, a career, plenty of money, and an attitude that probably kept him balls deep in men.

On the flip side, I was jobless and only a month away from being broke. Hell, even if I had kept my job at the Beacon, I was a nobody in the grand scheme of things. Was Sebastian one of those guys who slummed it with a nobody to feel better about themselves? If Wraith hadn’t spoiled the evening, I could have been on the receiving end of a pity fuck. Not the worst end to a night.

“Man, you are so far out of your league,” I mumbled.

Dan had left because I couldn’t measure up to his standards, and he was an average guy. How would I ever be able to compete with Sebastian, to play on his level? I knew the answer, written in stone and unchangeable: I couldn’t.

“At least I gave it a shot.”

I yawned, my body informing me it was long past my bedtime. After a quality night of sleep, I’d meet with the guys and see if any of them had job prospects. First, make sure there’s money to pay bills, then I’d deal with the train wreck that was my love life.

I made my way to the bedroom when I noticed the blotches of paint on my favorite superhero t-shirt. A splatter of black paint covered the chest of Captain Jack. Careful not to cover myself, I stripped the shirt, balling it and setting it on the dresser. Seconds later, I laid naked in bed, watching the ceiling fan lazily spin as if it had some place to go.

Obsessively, I replayed each interaction with Sebastian. From Bossman’s office, to drinks, to the alley, I couldn’t shake that grin from my mind. How sexy would it look in the dim light of the moon coming in my window as he kneeled over me? The image of him straddling my torso, his bare chest…

I threw back the blankets. The thought of Sebastian riding me was enough to get the motor going. I reached down, surprised at the speed I went from soft to rock hard. I pinched the foreskin, covering the head of my cock. I don’t know why men pretend they’ll touch themselves for a few seconds and get on with the day. The moment I touched myself, it was a lost cause. On a good note, it was the fastest way to guarantee I got a solid night’s sleep.

I wanted him kneeling over me, so that when I looked up, I could admire the dark coating of hair covering his chest. Having seen him without his shirt, it confirmed my suspicion that it trailed all the way to his navel. A man that concerned with his appearance would be clean shaven, and his package would sit on my chest, waiting for me to tip my head forward, my tongue licking the tip of his shaft.

The thought of his cock inches from my mouth could have sent me into an orgasm, but I wanted to savor the image. Wiping my finger across the head of my cock, I spotted the glimmer of precum. I licked my finger, hoping he tasted as sweet.

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