Wakeup Call - Chapter 4

The rest of the conversation with Taylor and Armsmaster is anything but calm and collected. There’s quite a bit of raised volume, panicked back and forths, barely restrained swearing, and incredulous reiterations of objective (?) fact.

All in all, I would say I am in my element.

Lisa Wilbourn delights in social confrontation as a way to compensate for her perceived weakness and vulnerability when it comes to—

Oh God, Power, can’t you let me have any nice things?

Lisa Wilbourn looking forward to spending more time with Taylor Hebert as they both—

… You are mortifying. Have I ever told you that you are mortifying?

Well, to make a long story short, Armsmaster is currently trying to downplay Taylor’s involvement as a possible recent trigger/bank robber, yours truly is being presented as a “mysterious Thinker” who may have influenced an unstable schoolgirl to act on her behalf (which… uncomfortably close to the truth, but whatever), Sophia has been given a gag order as somebody has “fortuitously” found records of Taylor Hebert being hospitalized in the recent past, something that a junior LEO should have, maybe, kind of thought relevant to mention to someone if they didn’t want to appear suspicious, and… Well, that’s where the good news end.

The PRT is almost handled, in that we are unlikely to get shot on sight, but Coil would still lock me up in a dark basement if he caught me after I put everything in jeopardy by shooting up a school, Emma is a loose end because someone is bound to care enough about her to raise some kind of a stink over her going catatonic due to my emergency psychological surgery (without anesthesia), we can’t go back to the Undersiders as long as Coil is still in charge, Taylor’s dad remains at risk if the snake thinks he should get some leverage on Taylor (or on me through Taylor). And dear Armsie still hasn’t given us any secret badges or cool gadgets to go with our Totally Spies new schtick. Party pooper.

Oh, also? My head is killing me. So, so much.

Overuse of Thinker Power in stressful situations—

Don’t I know it…

“Does it still hurt?” Taylor asks in a sweet whisper as she rubs my back while we both remain seated on the bed.

“Like a bitch.”

“You sure? I think Bitch would hurt a lot more. She has a mean hook.” I can’t help snorting at her quip. She’s getting better at those.

“She has a mean everything. Seriously, power-induced abnormal psychologies are the worst.” The hand rubbing soothing, tingling circles over my taut muscles stops at that, until a pleading look from me restarts the cycle of warm, fuzzy feelings. Dignity? Is that something that gets in the way of being petted like a pampered kitten? Don’t need it, thanks.

“Power induced what?” Oh, something else I hadn’t told her. Darn, those things keep cropping up, don’t they?

“Her Power lets her empathize with canines and understand their body language. Given that she was systematically abused in her foster home and her social growth was, to grossly understate it, stunted, she currently is unable to relate to anything that isn’t her ‘pack.’”

“’Currently?’ Meaning she could learn?”

“Well, if you manage to force the violently maladjusted juvenile delinquent with superpowers to go to therapy and make an effort… Maybe? These are the kind of connections that are established during the formative years; the brain grows less malleable as it grows older.”

“So this is a time-sensitive issue.” Oh, I know that look.

“Don’t make this into a personal crusade, please; our slots for those are kind of filled up at the moment.”

“Aren’t you a bit too talkative for somebody who has a debilitating migraine?” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a grade-A deflection if I ever heard one. Or spoken one. Which I have.

It’s my superpower, don’t judge me.

“I think my Power makes an exception for conversations. I don’t know why, nor how. Heck, I don’t even know why Thinkers get headaches when teleporting Movers don’t—it’s not like my brain is doing the heavy lifting here.” I wince a little at the admission; it still smarts. “The rules seem kind of arbitrary.” And with that, the deflection is accepted. It’s for the best: do not fight on dispersive ground.

“Like that thing about ‘psychics not being real’ Glory Girl went on a rant about?”

“Right?!” Finally! Someone who gets it! “The floating barbie with a forcefield tells me I would need a brain the size of a football stadium to read someone else’s thoughts, but how the Hell does she think she’s flying? What brain-size do you need to stop bullets?”

“Bullet. Singular.” I take a moment to get it. And then I start laughing. Oh God, it hurts and I can’t stop.

Taylor looks far too smug at having effectively neutralized me before a flash of actual human compassion goes over her features and she lays me back on the bed.

“Come on, you need to rest,” she says, softly enough to be soothing rather than jarring.

“I need cuddles,” I try to whine. I think I manage admirably.

“Let’s compromise.” I swear, every time I hear Taylor use that word, I get the urge to check whether she’s a shapeshifter—

Body language consistent with patterns—

Thanks, Power. Also, ouch.

“Compromise?”

“Yes. Turn over.”

I reluctantly obey her instructions and lie on my stomach, and then I am suddenly pressed into the mattress by Taylor’s weight lying square below my ass. She’s sitting astride me and—oooohhhh…

“I see you like that,” she says, smug satisfaction dripping off every syllable.

“Whatever gave you—oh yes, just right there—that idea?” I answer as I feel her slender, deft fingers press along my shoulder blades, releasing the tension hidden underneath.

“You are literally purring.”

“I object. Kittens purr, we foxes do… something? I don’t know; I will google it later.” Much later, if I have my way. I have never had a massage before, and I never knew what I was missing.

Taylor chuckles, and I can feel the vibration where her hips meet mine, which I am sure would be doing all sorts of wonderful things to me at any other time. As it stands, her hands traveling up and down my back in trails of smooth embers hold my attention captive.

She keeps at it for some blissful moments, before she starts tugging on my shirt.

“The clothing is getting in the way,” she explains. ‘Hey, it’s not like I was objecting,’ I don’t verbally answer.

My pleased mumbling shall suffice to get the message across.

Her thumbs sink into my lower back, digging small circles that frame my spine and make me go slack with sheer relief before they travel upwards and release my bra strap.

She doesn’t comment. Neither do I.

My shirt is now bunched over my shoulders, caught beneath my breasts on the front, and Taylor’s fingers burrow underneath the fabric, kneading the taut muscle it hides. My breath deepens, and my eyelids droop as slow waves of relaxation radiate from every point she touches.

“Stop moaning, Lisa. It’s distracting,” she whispers, leaning right above my ear, the tips of her hair gently dragging across my naked back.

‘I am not moaning,’ I try to answer, but the words get caught up in a long, dragged-out moan. Truly, I am surrounded by traitors.

Taylor giggles, and I once more feel her body make mine vibrate with her enjoyment, her hands pressing down on me as she resumes the blissful kneading of my flesh. At this point, my power-induced migraine is a distant memory, and the uncomfortable throbbing of my temples is quickly losing the battle against the sheer relief she brings me with every circular twist of her thumbs.

“Seriously, stop moaning.”

“I can’t help it; you are too good at handling my body.”

We both pause as we digest our latest exchange. I am about to laugh at the absurdity of the porn-like double entendre when I feel her weight shift over my body, and once again I feel her voice, her much huskier voice than usual, murmuring beside my ear: “You don’t know the half of it.”

I lick my dry lips as I try to come up with a reply that’s up to par.

“Really? Because I am always up for a learning experience.”

… It seems my dialog is currently stuck on the porny setting. Only time will tell whether that’s a bad thing.

“Well, in that case, I guess it is always a pleasure to instruct such an eager pupil,” Taylor positively purrs straight into my ear, her voice reaching far, far deeper and southward.

Good thing. Getting stuck on porny dialog is a good thing. Definitely.

She nibbles on my earlobe just enough to leave me wanting more before she leans back and her hands start traveling downward from my shoulders, tracing gentle lines down my sides till they reach my hips. She leans forward then, using her weight to sink her hands along the bone, making me curl back as yet another moan escapes my lips, lips which I promptly bite while I try not to picture the kind of face I am making at the moment.

Thank God there are no mirrors here.

But Taylor doesn’t let up, dragging her fingers up, skimming them along my skin, till she reaches the side of my breasts, what little of them is spilling from below me without being covered by my bra or my shirt. She starts teasing at the line of skin that transitions from breast to torso, the change in sensitivity clearly visible through my reactions, even if right now it feels like my whole body would be sensitive enough to bring me over the edge as long as she’s the one who plays with it. Though at least I have stopped moaning.

Now, instead, I am letting out what even I can’t describe as anything but these cute, little gasping yelps that make me sound like an overexcited puppy. Fare thee well, Dignity, we hardly knew ye.

Taylor isn’t about to show me any mercy, and she presses her assault without any regard for my exposed weakness or non-verbal surrender. Very in character of her, I should add. She leans forward, her thighs pressed around mine, holding her weight as she bends over me and her face rests next to mine, and then lets go, laying over me, pressing me into the mattress.

And she hugs me.

And stops moving.

Oh. Shit.

“I am sorry, Lisa, I wanted to, but I just…” she apologizes, voice unnaturally steady, and I kick my horny brain for its sheer incompetence in managing the situation.

“Shh, it’s all right. There’s nothing to apologize for.” I mean, other than me needing a change of underwear, but I am guessing a pair of panties may cost about the same as a good massage, so we should be square. Now, about that happy ending…

No! Bad brain. Bad! No cute heroine in tights for you!

“It’s just… I try not to, but I keep thinking about it, about her being a hero, about someone covering up for her, and I—”

“Taylor, sweetie, you almost died today. I won’t complain if you feel up to snuggling more than snogging.”

“… ‘Snogging,’ really? You are henceforth forbidden from reading Harry Potter.”

“You are henceforth allowed to infringe on my trademark and use humor as a deflecting mechanism to avoid talking about thorny issues.” See how generous I am? Robin Hood has got nothing on this professional thief.

“How magnanimous of you.” Well, that’s another positive adjective than the one I had in mind, but I won’t complain as long as you praise me.

“Damn right I am. Now scuttle over, I have a girlfriend to cuddle.” She rolls to my side without any further prompting and, after some quick maneuvering that is in no way made awkward by my state of undress and managing to trip myself when my elbow gets caught on my bra strap, I find myself lying on my side as I wrap Taylor between my arms and I look into her green eyes.

And she keeps looking, her face carefully devoid of emotion. Wonder why—oh.

“So. Girlfriend, uh?” she asks without any inflection. Damn her anti-Thinker countermeasures! This is just unfair.

“Well, I mean… We are having sex?” Nope, bad start. “And living together, I guess, since we are now both runaways.” Oh my God, Lisa, stop digging! “Also… I call dibs?” That’s it, you are hereby expulsed from the Thinker club. You are the Anti-Thinker. Your stupidity is powerful enough to neutralize parahuman enhanced cognition. It wasn’t bad enough to get Coil on your ass, now you also had to antagonize Accord.

She keeps looking at me without saying nor doing anything, and I feel my nervous grin wilt under her implacable assault till she, finally, reacts in a way that is recognizably human. And laughs in my face.

Should have seen that coming.

Lisa Wilbourn trying not to use Power to avoid further pain—

I know that!

“God, you should have seen your face,” she says, wiping an errant tear from her eye as she gets her breath back under control, and I try not to show how annoyed I really am. And then she leans forward and kisses my lips, and I try not to show the goofy grin that is inexorably rushing to said lips.

“So. I guess I’ve got a girlfriend now. This day really has some ups and downs,” she says with a teasing smirk.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think everything is going to be uphill from now on.”

“I… Are you sure you didn’t get that backward?”

“I know what I said, sweetie,” I say, before hugging her closer. She takes a moment to answer, as I feel her breathing press her chest rhythmically against mine and her scent fills my head with a fluffy haze.

“So, things are that bleak, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know. Coil must have heard about things by now, so we can’t count on the team anymore—”

“But, Brian wouldn’t… Would he?”

“Brian is stubbornly loyal to his own. In this case, his sister. We also counted until we became an obstacle to the boss who is so kindly providing him with a fake work history, and thus has him by his balls. Make no mistake, he’s a very nice guy, but his morals are very, very flexible when it comes to what he’s willing to do or tolerate for the sake of his objectives.”

“If he is doing all of this to get the custody of his sister, then maybe…”

“Taylor, Wards get paid. They also don’t have to do crimes. He had a choice, and he picked sides a long time ago.”

She nuzzles against me, face rubbing between my breasts. Before she mumbles: “So did you.”

My arms go slack around her, and I take a deep breath.

“That’s unfair.”

“It is. But here you are.”

I sigh, and I cuddle her closer.

“Yes, here I am.”

And her arms wrap around me, her face coming up right in front of mine, dark green eyes holding me still.

“I am glad you are.”

And she kisses me.

I feel my renewed tension drain out of my shoulders as her tongue invades my mouth, as her fingers travel up, digging trenches of tingling flame through my scalp, as she turns and pulls me on top of her, her other hand tracing my spine until it comes to rest over my ass and starts kneading me there, my pelvis instinctually tilting and pressing down on her own, her hand guiding me in an up and down motion, my body helpless to do anything but follow her demands.

“Are you… sure? You aren’t, you know…?” I mumble as I lean back enough to get a much-needed gulp of fresh air.

And she pulls me down and devours me.

My head goes blissfully blank as I become nothing more than a plaything in her hands, as she pulls even more moans and gasps out of me while her hand forces me to give both of us some much-needed pleasure. She lets me keep going as she stops kissing me long enough to finally get completely rid of my shirt and bra, the hand that had so thoroughly enjoyed my ass now paying equal amounts of attention to my breasts.

Her legs open, one jean-clad thigh slipping between my own and pressing upward just as I tilt down with enough force that I go cross-eyed as I whimper into her lips.

She throws me to the side and we both rush to get our pants and underwear off right the fuck now.

And then she sits between my legs, her right one going under my left, her left enticingly extending over my nude torso even as she unfairly keeps her awful, black hoodie on.

“I always wondered how this would feel,” she says, eyes locked onto mine with hunger and yearning.

“Always?” I can’t help asking, an inquisitive eyebrow reflexively raised.

She flushes—now, she flushes, when I am already a gasping wreck—before answering in a small voice. “My mom had… books. I am a very avid reader.” I can’t help my positively vulpine smirk at that nugget.

“Oh, I bet you were avid—” And she presses her sex against mine and manages to shut me up.

The amount of unfairness I am putting up with today…

Reciprocity usually considered essential for functioning relationships—

Oh, right, a moral excuse. Thanks, Power!

Just as Taylor grinds her hips down (and a spark of something wet and warm shoots through my spine, but we aren’t dwelling on that), I rest my thumbpad on her suddenly exposed clitoris and start rubbing it in small circles. Her hips jerk, once again doing wonderful things to me as her wet lips glide along mine and my own clitoris gets briefly engulfed in her warmth, but her rhythm is sidetracked, and her eyes shoot open, almost bewildered by the turn of events, as if this I the first time she—

Oh, right, she only played with me last night. I didn’t get to return the favor.

A vicious smirk pulls at the corner of my lips as I see my chance, and my thumb keeps Taylor off-balance as I press my assault and let my Power give me a few tips.

Taylor Hebert surprised by turnaround, vulnerability intellectually unappealing, yet viscerally exciting—

Figured as much. My free hand takes Taylor’s arm and pulls her up, and, off-balance, she goes along with the motion, sitting up as our legs bend and entangle, our torsos shifting. Then I lean forward and kiss her, as gently as I can while my thumb speeds up over her clit and I mix the circular motions with intermittent pressure.

“You can let go,” I tell her, softly, a warm smile blooming on me as I hold her close, as my breath ghosts over her lips and soft shadows outline our faces, framed by our falling hair, mixed dark and gold glinting with every thrilling shiver of sensation. “You can let go with me,” I repeat.

And she does.

Taylor’s body goes rigid next to my own, and shuddering waves wash over me as she finally experiences an orgasm that has been given by another. I try to hold back, to just delight in spectating the joy, the release, of my lover, but I can’t, and I soon follow her as our heat mixes between our entangled legs, as we both lose ourselves in one another.

It’s… It’s magical. Even better than last night, if only because it’s shared.

Also, orgasms make me corny. Good to know.

We take our time coming down from our respective heights, and I take advantage of her momentary weakness to pull her on top of me and cradle her head between my naked breasts. Her soft breath over my cooling sweat is quite distracting, but it’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.

Yes, ‘magnanimous’ sounds about right.

We just lay there, silent, for a while. When we get up, we will have to plan and act, recover all of my hidden assets, hammer down the deal with Armsmaster, make sure Coil has not made any moves… It’s a long list, and all of it is important, but, at the moment, it can wait, because my girlfriend just had her first shared orgasm and deserves some goddamn cuddles, no matter what the world may have to say about it.

“Lisa?” she mumbles, lips dragging over the skin between my breasts in a way that makes warmth bloom under it.

“Yes?” I answer, dragging almost limp fingers through her gorgeous hair.

“Remember what you said last night?”

“I said a lot of things.”

“That you loved me.”

Oh.

“Oh. That.”

“Yes, that.”

“It was… in the heat of the moment. Sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, I get that, it’s just…” She tilts her head up and looks at me, a small, fragile smile uncertainly growing on her face. “It’s just… I think I love you.”

I look at her, my brain taking far too much time to process what she just said before a goofy smile answers her hesitant one and I feel a giddy energy shoot through my limbs. She lets out a yelp as I drag her up and kiss her yet again, rolling around the bed with her caught between my arms.

Yes. She deserves all the cuddles.

And the world can wait.