What the Doormouse Said
The date of the big ‘heist’ was coming up, but that didn’t mean I could spend all my time with Glacia. Training her ate up a lot of the day, but I still had my own work to deal with. Freelance villainy was very feast or famine. When monsters from the deeps were assaulting the bay area and bringing down the property values, or some wizard had opened a portal to hell above city hall, the public didn’t really have the appetite to watch a hero beat up the magnet guy robbing the local bank. Likewise, when things were quiet and all the real villains were either plotting their schemes or still breaking out of jail and the local asylums, there was a lot of demand for my services.
It had been more of the latter in the last few weeks. After Captain Fantastic had busted up that drug company run by vampires selling drugs that turned people into zombies (again,) things had been pretty quiet, so I’d lined up a few interviews with some heroes and their agents before my meeting with Carter had thrown things for a loop. It would have been unprofessional to break the meetings, and once Glacia finished her debut I’d be in the clear anyway, so after finishing up another day of training her in the railyards and dropping her off, I headed to Magnolia’s Fine Dining.
There were a number of reasons I interviewed potential new clients at a restaurant. One, it was pretty professional. Two, like breaking up with someone, it usually prevented heroes from making a scene if I said no. Three, it saved me from having to cook that night, and if the meeting went well the agent usually picked up the tab. And four, if despite everything things went badly, I’d have no lack of weapons on hand. Nothing made a person reconsider starting a fight than a hundred forks and steak knives suddenly hovering around me, and ready to give them a very bad day.
I’d gone to Magnolia’s before, and liked it. It was in that nice medium area of dining, where you could get in without a reservation, the food was good enough that everyone got something decent, and the prices weren’t absurd. I didn’t need the hassle of trying to reserve one of the ritzier restaurants, and no one would take me seriously if I hashed out a contract in a Burger King, so it all worked out.
As I parked and stepped out, I had a sudden sensation of being watched. I looked quickly around, but the street was pretty deserted. Night was starting to fall, if you could call it that in Metro City. Colour flared from neon signs and the windows of shops that never closed. Cars flashed up and down the street and some panhandler was laying into a guitar like he was Led Zeppelin reincarnated. He wasn’t actually half bad, I had to admit, though why he was wearing tinted glasses when it was getting dark out I couldn’t guess at.
But I didn’t see anything too obvious. And I didn’t feel any menace directed my way. I usually trusted my instincts in that respect. Many a time it saved me from a hidden danger. But standing around in the middle of the sidewalk wasn’t making much progress on that end, so with a shrug as if to toss off the lingering sense of unease, I finally went into Magnolia’s.
As soon as I walked in I spotted who I was meeting. A mousy man in a tweed suit and tie was sitting at a table not far inside, his nose twitching and hands constantly moving like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. A lot of agents were like that, but that wasn’t what got me wary.
It was that the person with him was in full costume.
I winced at the sight. The guy was dressed up like a plague doctor with the beaked mask like a raven and a long red cloak. The hood pulled up over his head probably cast him in a suitably intimidating light, but given he was sitting in a restaurant with three different kinds of forks I wasn’t exactly buying it.
I sighed. Well, I was here now. May as well check it out.
I walked up to the table, pulling back the chair and taking a seat. “You must be Chester Simmons,” I said to the mousy man, extending my hand. “Victor, better known as Magneron.”
Chester’s face sagged with relief and he eagerly took my hand, shaking it. “A pleasure, really. Thank you for meeting us. I am Chester. And ah, this is-“
“I am the Red Death,” the hero said, his voice hissing weirdly from his mask. “Once, I was but a common researcher of deadly diseases. But then, in a freak accident, I was exposed to a virulent virus, which overheated my cells, giving me the ability to melt anything I touch.
“Now,” he said, picking up a spoon, a read aura burning in his gloved palm “I use my powers for good, battling the forces of evil. For they are the disease, and I am the cure!”
I watched as the spoon melted in his grasp to a puddle of drooling metal. Right. Well, this was probably a waste of time. And a good illustration on the reason why I insisted on meeting not just their agent, but the hero too. A lot of agents tried to hide their more problematic heroes when hiring a villain. But I never accepted that. If you’re going to fight someone who throws around cosmic rays and trucks, you’d be insane not to look them in the eye first, especially when those eyes could soon be shooting heat rays at you. A lot of freelancers got killed because they ended up dealing with an overzealous hero. Or they killed the hero, which was often a career ender anyway. Sometimes things went wrong, and a lot of heroes thought villains like me existed solely to make them look good. Which was, you know, true, but we weren’t there to die for them. Just lose. Except for the Reaper Man, but he was already dead, so killing him was more an inconvenience than anything.
Still, I’d give them a chance, if only because I was hungry. “Uh huh,” I said, picking up a menu. “Have you ordered yet?”
“Er, no. No. We were waiting for you,” Chester said quickly.
“Right. I suggest the beef. It’s really good.”
“We’ll try that,” Chester said, smiling hopefully, no doubt thinking once the food arrived I wouldn’t be as quick to leave.
“Good choice. Now, what were you thinking for an encounter?” I said, glancing between Chester and Red Death. “Do you have any banks lined up? Maybe a jewelry store or something? Museums would be thematic, but maybe out of your means…”
“We were considering an auto show,” Chester said.
I tsked. “That would be pretty expensive,” I noted. “A jewelry store or a bank might be easier. The jewelry if we’re looking at a budget battle. Lots of valuable but durable items and a pretty enclosed space but with plenty of security cameras. Red Death might do better there.”
Chester nodded raptly. His eagerness was good, but it felt a little desperate, which instantly put my guard up. “Quite right. Quite right. I believe we can figure something out.”
“Good,” I said, glancing back down at the menu. “I know a few stores that might be willing. I can put you in touch unless you wanted to find-“
“I would like to say that I do not think this is an effective use of my abilities,” Red Death interrupted forcefully. “My heroic powers are not to be used on a whim, but only for the cause of fighting for truth and justice!”
I glanced at him over my menu and then over to Chester, who was now looking quite uncomfortable. Hmm. I wasn’t that surprised. A lot of heroes when they first started working as a cape didn’t like hiring people like me to make them look good. I couldn’t really blame them. When someone first developed powers, they either thought they were going to save the world or burn it down. Then they discovered literally hundreds of others had the same idea, and a lot of them were better at it. After a shock like that, most newbies either got a regular job or became streeters, but if they had an interesting powerset they might get picked up by an agency. Which felt nice, no doubt, until work dried up and suddenly the public started forgetting about them.
“Of course, Death. Of course,” Chester said quickly, moving to pat the hero’s shoulder then thinking better of it. “This is just a… ah… a temporary measure. Just to generate some engagement and good press. Make sure people still see you doing good work, you know?”
“I don’t need a man like this to assure the people I still fight for them!” Death proclaimed.
Oh, this was going poorly, and I could already tell Red Death was not going to be a good client for me to work with. I could deal with egos. Hell, that was pretty much everyone in the market for a villain to beat up. But idiots were a problem. Not in losing to them, though it was a bit more work to make it look good. But if they were stupid, they might get me killed, or try something crazy in the middle of a fight. And why should I bother with that?
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” I said, looking at Chester. “If your hero isn’t willing…”
“He is. He is! I assure you,” Chester said quickly, his head bobbing like a turkey, his hand patting Death’s arm. “Red Death can be utterly professional in a combat setting, I assure you.”
“Do you think I couldn’t beat you?” Red Death said.
Oh, here it goes. “I didn’t say that,” I said with a sigh, flipping through the menu. “Of course you could beat me. That’s the whole point of this.”
“I think you’re lying!” Red Death snapped, red energy crackling in his palm.
Well, clearly he wasn’t concerned about causing a scene. I glanced around the restaurant, noting more than a few worried faces looking over at our table. “I’m sure you’re very accomplished,” I said drily. “No doubt I would be absolutely destroyed if we met in true, honorable battle.”
“You, a mere jobber villain, think you could best me in a fight?”
I leaned back, staring him down. “What do you want me to say here?”
“I can prove I can best you!”
“Well, that’ll cost you at least ten grand,” I said.
“Why?” Red Death growled.
“I don’t fight heroes for free,” I said.
“And if I don’t give you a choice?” Red Death said, rising to his feet, pushing back his chair.
I narrowed my eyes. The cutlery on the table vibrated as my magnetic powers began to pick them up. “Chester? I think your hero and you might want to reconsider.”
Chester’s head swung between Red Death and me, his mouth flapping as tension crackled in the air. “I… er… ah…”
“Boss!”
I knew that voice.
My head jerked around like someone had tied a rope around it and pulled hard. I stared as Psyren strode across the restaurant. Dressed in her typical denim, tanktop and headphones with the addition of a spiky leather jacket, she looked more like she was going to a rave than coming to a semi-classy restaurant. I mean, there wasn’t a dress code, but still.
“What the…” I said, unable to formulate anything else.
“Boss, I’m sooooo sorry I’m late,” she said with a teasing pout.
“Late?”
“Yeah!” With a swing of her hips she slid into the seat beside me, smirking like a cat who found the cream. “I’m sorry. I know I can be a real brat, huh? But we can still have our meeting, right? You guys don’t mind, do you?” she said with a sly look across the table.
“O-of course not,” Chester gaped.
“Y-yes. That should be fine…”
Fuck! It showed how compelling Psyren could make herself that I completely forgot about the walking plague looking to melt my face off. But when I quickly turned back to him, it seemed Red Death had also forgotten all about me, and only had eyes for Psyren. In fact, the lenses of his mask seemed to be glowing pink…
Suddenly suspicious, I glanced back at her, and lo and behold, the familiar neon glow of fluttering hearts were in her eyes. I very briefly considered admonishing her, then realized that this was actually an occasion where her powers should be used, so decided to let it slide.
“Thanks!” Psyren said, beaming as she picked up a fork and started twirling it. “You gonna introduce me?” she asked me.
I supposed there was no avoiding it at this point. “Gentlemen,” I said, gesturing at her. “This is Psyren. My-“
“Protégé!” she said, twanging the prongs of the fork, whose sound seemed to hum in the air. “Looking to get into the freelance business too.”
“You are?” Chester and Red Death said, suddenly both very attentive.
“Oh yeah,” Psyren giggled, fluttering her lashes and nibbling on the ends of the fork. “I can be a very bad girl you know…”
“O-oh, how ah… how interesting,” Chester said, picking up a napkin and dabbing at his suddenly sweaty brow. “W-well, we’d certainly be interested in engaging your services as well, should the occasion arise and the ah… the opportunity came up with our business dealings. Wouldn’t we?” Chester said, elbowing Death pointedly.
The hooded man jolted. “Wha? O-oh! I mean, yes. Absolutely. We would!”
Well, that was no surprise, but I wasn’t sure if I was on board. Even if they were mainly saying it because Psyren was tweaking their minds with her powers. Most male heroes had few, if any, female villains. The crowd hated seeing a guy beating on a woman most of the time, and the audience who liked it no one really wanted. Most supervillainesses and heroines tended to end up in designated ‘cat fights,’ which always sold well, but heroines were in hot demand, and there weren’t really that many villainesses for hire. Those who tried freelance tended to get driven out pretty quick by certain heroes who took the whole business as an excuse to cop a feel in the midst of battle. Which was why I wasn’t surprised that Glacia was working inhouse with Razer for her villainy. Having an HR department to go to bat for you would be handy.
“Aw, that’s wonderful, boys!” Psyren cooed, leaning against me, nuzzling my neck like an affectionate cat. “But I’m still sooooo far away from taking on any work. And of course, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that my boss said no to. He calls all the shots with me. So if he didn’t think we’d be a good match, I’d probably never see you two again.
“And wouldn’t that just be tragic,” she said, her eyes pulsing with light, her words throbbing with psionic emphasis.
“Yeah…” Chester said.
“Tragic,” Death said, his voice slurring a little.
“And I think we’ve heard enough for today,” I said pointedly to Chester. “I’ll have my people call your people if I feel right to move forward with an encounter.”
“Guess this is goodbye for now,” Psyren said, smiling devilishly as the hearts in her eyes gave another pulse. “Bye bye.”
“Bye…” Chester said, rising, swaying a little. Red Death followed suit, steadier on his feet, but his beaked attention no less fixated on Psyren. The psychic smirked, made a little twirling motion with her fingers, and both men turned like puppets and walked rigidly away.
I watched the pair as they left the restaurant, leaning against one another like two drunks as they shambled outside. Then I looked down at Psyren. “They going to be alright?”
“Oh yeah. They’ll have a bitch of a headache tomorrow, but I behaved, boss. Of course,” she giggled, and her eyes flashed a pink so deep it was nearly red, “if he’d actually started a fight with you, he wouldn’t be leaving here in anything other than a straight jacket.”
“Right. Well, thanks for that self-control,” I said warily. “On a related topic, have you been stalking me?”
Psyren smiled slyly. “Mmm?” she hummed, pulling an abandoned glass of untouched water towards her and breaking a straw out of its package. “What gave you that idea?”
“Coincidences happen,” I said. “But I doubt this is one of them.”
“You got that right,” Psyren said, stirring the straw in her water. “I was following you.”
“Okay. So, the obvious question is why?” I said. “You have my phone number. You could call me anytime.”
“And take the fun out of it? No way, bossman,” she said. “It was waaaay too interesting.”
“How is it interesting?”
With a grin, she reached up and tapped her headphones. “See these?”
“Kind of hard not to,” I noted. The things were huge, practically the size of earmuffs and gave off a faint buzzing hiss like white noise.
“Yeah. They’re kinda big, aren’t they?” she said, stroking the metal and plastic fondly. “You know? If I take these puppies off, I’d be able to hear the thoughts of everybody in the room.”
Seriously? I tried to figure out if she was playing me, which would hardly be surprising. I suspected I could trust maybe half of what came out of Psyren’s mouth, and the other half with enough grains of salt to preserve an entire side of beef. But I didn’t think she was lying this time. Call it a hunch, but I felt like she’d spin a yarn for anyone, but probably shoot straight with me if I pressed her.
And if it was the truth, that would be damn impressive. Psychics weren’t actually all that uncommon. A lot of flamers were actually pyrotechnics. I’d even been mistaken for a telekinetic at times when people saw me toss things around the room. But those kinds of powers were pretty low on the totem pole. But mind reading such a large group? That was an entirely different story.
“I see,” I said. “So how does that make stalking me interesting?”
“Simple, bossman,” Psyren said, and I sat up straighter as I felt her leg rubbing against mine. She fluttered her lashes flirtatiously, leaning in close, her shoulder against my arm. “I can know what everyone’s thinking soooo easily. Take the headphones off, and their minds are wide open. All their naughty little secrets. All their most hidden thoughts. Their shameful little private things. Their most sickening impulses. I could know all of them just… like… that...”
She snapped her fingers, and I felt a chill work through me from head to toe. What she was describing was why everyone was terrified of psychics, and Psyren was the absolute poster child for using those powers immorally. Although I’d rarely heard about any psychic with her level of ability, outside of maybe The Dominator or perhaps The Hive Queen. But those were villains way out of your average league.
“Still not really seeing what you get out of following me around,” I said.
“That’s just it,” Psyren said, grinning wickedly, resting her chin in a cradle of her palm, her pupils throbbing hearts. “I don’t know at all what you’re gonna do.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope! Anybody else, I could just peel their minds like an orange. But not you. I don’t know anything about you. I can’t crack you. Do you have any idea how bored I am?”
“You? Bored?” I actually snorted. “I can’t imagine you lack for entertainment.”
She giggled, picking up a steak knife and twirling it, which instantly put me on guard. I had a feeling Psyren and sharp objects rarely mixed well. “Mmm. That’s true,” she said. “But playing with people can get so dull, you know?” She made a careless gesture about the room and the guests within it. “Give me an hour or so, and I could make every one of these people jump onto the tables and start dancing, and they couldn’t help themselves. I could make them do anything for me.”
I leaned back a bit. “Anything?”
She nibbled on the tip of the knife, her eyes lidded, her smile coy but radiating something that made the bracers on my arms clink with my instinct to deploy them against danger. “Anything,” she breathed. “I can make a man absolutely adore me. Obsess over me. Be addicted to even being close to me. I could make him think only about me. Be less than a slave. A worshipper. Love is child’s play. And you know?”
“What?” I said, my voice tight.
“Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m doing it.”
Well, that had to be one of the most fucking terrifying things I’d ever heard. “You don’t?” I said.
She giggled again, a wistful expression on her face. “Nope,” she said, popping the syllable. “I tried dating and stuff, but how much of their feelings are their own and not my powers? That’s the trick, bossman. After a bit, every guy and girl starts getting drawn to me. Even when I try not to use my powers. But maybe I’m doing it subconsciously? Maybe the longer anyone spends around me, the less they are themselves and more just little puppets I move around? Tweaked and influenced by my mind. Enthralled and dominated without me even being aware of it.
“I once dated a guy who was real nice,” she said wistfully. “Just got into college, ya know? He seemed cute, and I was bored, so I thought I’d try it long term. No powers at all. And we got along greeeat. He was super fun. But you know? After a bit, he started to just… do things for me. He’d cook me dinner that was exactly the sort of food I’d been craving. I’d be thinking about a movie I’d watched a long time ago and he’d just ‘happen’ to find it online. Or I’d think about how my feet were aching, and just like that he’d be there to give me a foot massage.”
“Well, that does happen to regular people too. When people spend time together, they get on the same wavelength,” I said, but I could hear the doubt in my voice. Psyren could too, to judge by her smirk.
“You really think that?” she said.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“But that’s the thing,” she said, suddenly flipping around the knife, stabbing it into the table. She stood up, pressing on the knife’s handle, digging it into the wood as she leaned in towards me, the pink hearts in her eyes throbbing. “I can’t do it with you. I can’t even feel your mind. It’s like trying to watch an old tv tuned to a dead channel. I’m getting nothing but static.
“And that makes me want to know,” she said, practically crawling onto my lap. “I want to know everything about you. I want to find out what makes you tick, boss. But it’s like watching a tv show. You gotta wait until next week to get the next hint. And I wanna see how it’s all gonna come together. I’ve been so bored. But you?” She giggled, and the manic sound of that laugh told me I was in for a hell of a time with her. “You’re gonna be so much fun.
“So don’t you worry,” she said, easing back, the mad light slowly fading in her eyes, returning to the indolent smokiness of lazy amusement. “I’ll be a good girl as long as you tell me to. I’ll do whatever you say. And if you let me show off some of my powers, I’ll be the best bad girl you’ve ever seen. And I’ll be waiting. Waiting to see if you really are immune to me. Or…”
“Or?” I said.
She smiled wickedly. Hungrily. “Or if you’re not, and in the end you become just another of my fawning toys.”
Well, she’d certainly given me a lot to think about. I could feel my heart drumming with adrenaline and fear and forced it down. Because for all the terror I felt at the psychotic psychic’s confession, I also felt a little sad for her. Academically, I knew psychics never got a shot at a ‘normal’ life, though how normal anyone’s with powers could be was up for debate. But even among them, Psyren was a whole new world of crazy. Whatever she was, it wasn’t her fault. She’d been dealt a rough hand, and if I could help make it better, fuck it. Why wouldn’t I?
But it was beyond time to change the subject. I’d had enough crazy for one night.
“Okay,” I said, clasping my hands before me, giving her a level look. “Then let’s talk about you being a villain.”
“I’m all ears,” she said, tapping her headphones.
“Yeah, let’s uh, keep those on,” I said.
“Anything you say,” she said with another wink.
Ooookay. “Right,” I said. “So, obviously we won’t be hitting the mind control angle for your villainy,” I said. “At least, not to… you know, the scale of what you were talking about.”
“I am really good at it,” she said.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said. “But we’re going to go with something maybe a bit less horrifying to the average person. Do you have any telekinetic powers?”
Psyren picked up a spoon, holding it in front of her. “You tell me?” she said as the lights in her eyes pulsed, the air humming, the metal bending, twisting into a knot.
“Not bad,” I said, nodding slowly. “Anything thicker?”
She frowned. “Well… not really. The heavier or bigger the thing, the harder to manipulate. Fat guys have always been annoying like that.”
“How about illusions? Can you manage that?”
“Sure. That’s easy stuff,” she said, perking up again. “I can make people see anything I want them to, as long as I have a bit of time to get in the head. I did half the special effects of my concerts.”
“Really? I didn’t see any.”
“Duh,” Psyren said, leaning forward and tapping my forehead.
Oh, right.
“Good. Nice,” I said, brushing away her hand, a plan starting to come together. “Okay. Here’s how I think we’ll angle it. You’re going to be a low-level telepath. An illusionist. Your powers are going to be mainly flashy. Making people see things. It’s got all the proper trademarks of villain without also painting a target on your back.”
Psyren raised a brow. “You think so?”
“I know so. If we make sure people think you’re weaker than you are, you’ll get a lot more leeway, and much less dangerous attention.”
Psyren nodded slowly. “Hmmm. I guess that could work,” she said. “Is that why you don’t show off how strong you really are?”
“It has its uses,” I admitted.
“I bet,” she said, licking her lips like she’d just gotten something juicy to chew on.
“That said,” I added. “We might be able to work in some brainwashing.”
Psyren perked up. “For real?” she gasped. “For really really real?”
“None of that stuff you were doing before,” I pointed out quickly. “I’m talking about zombie style. Glassy eyes, drooling, little more than robots doing your bidding and snapping out of it as soon as you’re incapacitated. If people just think they go into a trance when you use your powers, they won’t feel so violated and horrified. Hell,” I mused. “You’ll probably get an entire fetish community looking to be a victim of your heist.”
“Huh,” Psyren said, head cocked musingly. “Never thought of all that.”
I nodded. “People are willing to tolerate that kind of power. And if they think that’s the limit of what you can do, they won’t assume you’ll be rewiring their brains. Which you won’t be doing, by the way,” I added pointedly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you pull that kind of shit and we’re through.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Psyren giggled, squirming in her seat, wrists and hands squeezed between her thighs as if to stifle her excitement. “Ohhhh, this is gonna be so much fun!”
“It can be,” I said. “But we’re also going to need to do some extra work. I doubt you can deflect bullets or things with your powers, but with some practice we can probably figure out something. If you can read general intent, you can probably spot a streeter or whatever trying to blindside you. We’ll work in some practice once I’m done with Glacia. Now, what about limits to your powers? Is there anything that blocks or interferes with it?”
“Lead,” she said. “And tinfoil.”
“Tinfoil?” I said dubiously.
“I know, right?” she said. “Who knew the conspiracy dudes were onto something? And I guess electrical fields can mess with me. A fan once came at me with a tazer and it gave me a real headache.”
“He came at you?”
“Until Arman’s boys put him down,” Psyren said.
“Did that happen often?” I said.
“What can I say?” she said with another lazy shrug, arms up, head tilted back like some icon on a poster. “People just get obsessed with me.”
I could well imagine. If she really was subconsciously influencing people, anyone who spent overlong with her or obsessing over her would probably have been driven crazy. And it also explained why Steve had gotten his sister to work with Arman. Only the owner of the Rumble Ring would have been able to provide her with the anonymity and security she clearly needed. But now, instead of a billionaire media mogul and his back-alley connections, it was all up to me. Some guy who drove a Honda Civic with the powers of a fridge magnet. I wondered why Arman had let her go? Then wondered if he had a choice.
Then I wondered what Psyren’s hand was doing on my leg? And more pertinently, where it was going?
I sucked in a breath as I felt her brush my cock. I shot her a look, and the hearts in her eyes pulsed even brighter, her smile deepening. I didn’t need psychic powers to know what she was looking for.
“You…” I began.
“Do I get a reward, boss?”
“A reward?”
“Yeah,” she said, scooting closer, leaning against my arm again as her hand stroked my manhood through my pants. “For lending a hand?”
I grunted. But… well, things might have gone south with Red Death but for her help. And it would be a shame to be called ungrateful…
“Well,” I mused, an arm wrapping around her, cupping the firmness of her ass, “since you were so helpful…”
I actually felt the shiver rush through her at those words. Psyren moaned softly, arching against me, her eyes pulsing with pink light. She leaned up closer, her breath hot and smelling faintly of peppermint. “Wanna fuck me right here on the table?” Psyren said, her hand rubbing my cock through my pants. “Show everybody that you fucking own me? That I’m your hot slut?”
“That’s…”
“I could make them forget it. Fuck,” she said, practically grinding herself against my leg. “I could make them never see us as you pounded me right in front of them. They’d never need to know. C’mon, bossman. Let’s get real naughty…”
Tempting as that was (and holy fuck was it tempting) I knew better than to risk it. Instead, I got up sharply, pulling her with me. Psyren gasped in surprise as I leaned down and kissed her hard on her lips.
A tremor like an electric shock went through her, her body practically vibrating against mine as my hand slid along her ass and hip. She moaned, head tilting back, eyes fluttering half closed, and when I broke the kiss she was panting hot and fast.
“My car. Now,” I said.
“You’re the boss,” she breathed.
I smirked and tossed some money on the table. We didn’t get the food, but it was always good to tip the staff of the restaurant you almost started a super brawl in. Still kissing Psyren, I walked her out the door, her slender figure pressed eagerly against me. I barely managed to get us into the car, almost tearing the door off with a distracted yank of magnetic power.
I threw Psyren into the back seat, moving over her, her mouth panting hotly peppermint scented gasps as my hand cupped her breast through her shirt, feeling the hard lumps of metal bars piercing her nipples.
“Mmmm,” she moaned.
“Pierced?” I said, grabbing the hem of her shirt, yanking it up. Her firm, modest breasts bounced into the open. Perfect orbs that nestled atop her chest, the twin metal piercings gleaming in the faint lighting.
“Do you like?” Psyren cooed, stretching, her arms bending over her head to press against the car door.
“Not as much as you’re going to,” I said, and began to vibrate the metal.
Psyren’s eyes shot wide open, her lips parting in a startled gasp, then keening in a moan of pleasure as her sensitive teats thrummed with the bars. “O-oh f-fuuuuuuck!” she moaned.
“Told you,” I said, chuckled as I leaned down and kissed her again.
Psyren moaned, her legs parting as my hand cupped her mound, rubbing her through her pants. Her hips rocked, grinding against my touch, her whimpers growing stronger as I tugged down her jeans, her panties following suite, revealing the delicate pink of her pussy. I stroked my thumb against her. Fuck she was wet.
And she was all mine.
She broke the kiss with a gasp, stretched out under me in the cramped space of the back of my car, her flushed face lit by the glow of the restaurant’s sign, her eyes pulsing with pink hearts.
“Please, boss,” she gasped. “F-fucking take me!”
“You want it?” I said, undoing the front of my pants, pulling out my cock and stroking her slit with the tip. “You want the boss’s fat cock?”
“I neeeeed it!” she moaned, trembling as the studs that pierced her nipples vibrated even more.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” I teased, and pushed inside her.
Psyren cried out, quivering in delight as I filled her. She was tight, but that only made it all the better. I groaned as her inner walls clamped down on my cock, already beginning to pump in and out of her, drawn into her lovely body with growing eagerness.
“Ohhh fuck yessss!” Psyren moaned. “Boss! Ah! Ah! Yes! F-fuck me! Fuck me faster! Harder! Oh boss. Oh fucking hell yesssss! Gimme… ah… gimme that f-fucking cock! Take me like your b-bitch, boss. Make me yours! Make me cuuuum!”
I barely cared she was making enough noise to wake the dead. Her hands pressed against the car door, the suspension rocking with my every thrust, I grabbed her wrists, holding them down. Holding her down. Her legs wrapping around my waist as I drove my cock into her hard and faster. Faster. Faster.
“Fuck. Fuck! You’re tight. My tight little… ha… slut,” I gasped.
“Oh fuck!” she moaned, throwing her arms around me, clawing my back through my shirt. “Oh boss, yessss! Call me that ha… ha… again. Call me your f-fucking slut!”
“That right? You like that? The big, powerful psychic likes being made my slut?” I demanded, grinning.
“Soooo muuuuuch!” Psyren wailed, her voice humming in the air, her breasts quivering under the magnetic vibrations of the nipple studs, her whole body trembling in utter ecstasy.
“Then fucking cum, Psyren. Cum for your boss! Cum for your master!”
Those words pushed her over the edge, seeming to turn a key of a fetish she maybe never even knew was there. She arched under me, wailing in delight as she came, quivering as her inner walls rippled and quivered around my cock, her voice crying out a final, “Ohhhh fuuuuuck!”
That did it for me. I thrust into her once more, the sudden tightness of her silken pussy too much to resist. I groaned as I came in her, body bucking as the sweet euphoria of orgasm swept over me, Psyren twitching as I spent myself in her with shuddering jolts of pleasure.
Panting, I eased out of her, her legs falling from around my waist to flop onto the seat of the car. I couldn’t help but smile at the expression of utter ecstasy on her face, eyes lidded, lips parted in quivering gasps of bliss.
“Have fun?” I teased.
“Soooo much,” Psyren moaned.
I chuckled, leaning down and kissing her again, her lips submissively responding to my own.
Maybe being a mentor wouldn’t be so bad after all…