The Lewd Age of Superheroes Pt. 01

What follows is a fun little parody of superhero tropes with a porn filter on top. All characters are over eighteen years of age.

***

The day the world changed forever was also the day that Windshear decided not to wear any panties.

The two were more or less unrelated. One was the product of May Winterson being late for patrol and unable to find the thong that she could wear with her brown and white form-fitting outfit without causing unsightly panty-lines.

The other was the result of a bullet fired five years ago.

None the less it is worth mentioning that as Windshear flew out above the rooftops of Epoch City, she did so commando.

Windshear floated lazily above the city and stifled a yawn. It had been a slow night. For all Epoch's City's reputation- the good (the city of tomorrow and the headquarters of the Legendary League) and the bad (the battleground of capes and ground zero for whatever new disaster villains might cook up) the city was rarely dull.

It was giving a good account of exceptional dullness that night, however. Whatever evil the villains of the city might be indulging in, they were doing it quietly. The slim, pale-skinned super's powerful air-manipulating powers and her years of combat experience had been put to waste that evening; her heroic deeds amounting to hovering meaningfully above a pair of arguing lovers and directing an older gentleman to the nearest train station.

In short, the City of Adventure was not feeling particularly adventurous.

This was not, in the opinion of the twenty-something super, a terribly bad thing. Windshear wasn't particularly grizzled but she did have some experience under her belt. A junior member of the Legendary League and a veteran of the War of the Five Colours and the Night of the Silent King, she very much valued peace over glory. And so May hovered in the air, the winds buoying her like an earnest servant, and weighed the benefits of an early night, a glass of red and a warm bed against the disappointment in the voice of Grey Sentinel should she attempt to leave her patrol route early.

She was mentally adding a bar of chocolate- a small bar of chocolate, mind- to the hypothetical AWOL scenario when she saw the lights.

Pink and purple and blue and green, trailing along like graffiti frozen in the air. Up the side of a building and along its rooftop, moving away from the centre of the city and towards the Southern bay.

Windshear watched the lights. Windshear took in a deep breath. Windshear gritted her teeth.

With a thought she turned her hover into a dive, low and long. She willed the air around her to flow and shift, winds changing to mask the sounds of her approach. Eyes narrowed, she closed the distance between herself and the man at the tip of the neon comet-

-who veered off to the side, colours exploding in a riot around him.

Dammit. She pulled up and away. Gesturing, she sent a pulse of air, compressed and hardened to the strength of concrete, to slam into the man at the head of the trail of lights. Moving with blinding speed, he darted away and up onto a rooftop, glowing patterns forming and reforming around him.

She hovered a little distance from him and arched her eyebrow beneath her mask. "Max Drandson. Neon Hound."

"Windshear." She could see the man beneath the lights. Tall, dressed in jeans and a jacket with a dogs head printed on the back. Features beneath the domino mask clearly meant to be rugged, although the end result was as scruffy as his namesake.

"I thought," she said, "that you were going to stay out of trouble. I distinctly remember that coming up in your parole hearing."

He shook his head. "I'm not up to any trouble, Shear. Nothing illegal, anyway."

"Then what are you doing?"

He seemed to relax ever so slightly and stood a little straighter. Did he ever wash that jacket? She fancied he smelled like a dog. "I'm helping out a friend."

"Oh really?"

"She's in trouble. The Bloody Eight Masks have pinned her for something she didn't do- they're out for blood. I'm just trying to get her some help."

She sighed. "A mission of mercy?"

He nodded. "Just so."

"Does this damsel in distress have a name?"

"Ah." He got that cagey look on his face, like a dog that had been caught doing something naughty.

And there it was. Letting the winds carry her ever so slightly forward, she continued. "Is she tall?"

"Um-"

"Strong looking?"

"Well-"

"Does she wear a red outfit? Fellian features? Lots of chains?"

Definitely like a naughty dog. "Look, does it matter?"

"Are you going to go and help Chain Devil, the villainess, intergalactic war criminal and your known associate, who's currently wanted on suspicion of a brutal attack on the Bloody Eight Masks two days ago?"

It was almost fun watching him sag. Almost. "She's innocent."

"She's not someone you're meant to be associating with, Neon."

He shuddered and she felt a trickle of sympathy break through. "Trouble is trouble. I respect what you're saying-"

"How many chances have we given you?" She was aware she was shouting but couldn't bring herself to care.

"-but a man needs to help his friends, Shear. I'd not be able to live with myself if she got hurt or killed."

"Romantic."

He shook his head and she was shocked to feel something like relief. "No. Just a man helping out his mate."

Stupid trickle. She floated just a little closer. "You want to help her? Send her to us. We can offer protection, Neon. To her."

She saw him pause. Actually think about it. She realised she was holding her breath.

Then he grinned, that stupid shit-eating grin he had on his face the first time they'd fought, and every fucking time since then. Shook his head. "Sorry."

Glowing bars shot up between them. He shot like a multi-coloured comet away from her, his body burning with neon light.

Oh, just...

She called into her comm. "Met up with Neon Hound. Engaging."

Grey Sentinel's voice crackled back to her. "Windshear. Exiled Prince and Endless are on route. Don't attempt to engage him until you have backup."

May watched the neon comet vanish off into the distance and paused. She should wait. Neon and she were pretty evenly matched- god knows he'd knocked her down onto the ground plenty of times. With Prince and Endless on her side, it would be an easy victory.

All she had to do was keep on his trail. Not engage.

Not have the pleasure of wiping the smug grin clean off with her fists.

She was aware of Grey Sentinel's voice in her earpiece, calm and authoritative. "Windshear. Can you copy?"

Windshear opened her mouth to confirm and paused. She felt something hot rush through her veins, strong and sweet, like a warm breeze. Felt the world shudder around her as though it was shivering in anticipation. "Copy. Sorry Grey Sentinel, the situation looks like it could go south."

"Windshear. All the more reason to-"

"Engaging." She darted after the villain.

She let the winds hurl her forward, less a flight than a controlled shot; whipping her body into subsonic speeds as she hurtled towards her target. She realised she was grinning as the winds coiled around her and forced her, like a piece of straw in a tornado, to ever-greater speeds.

It took her half a minute to catch up with Neon; a few more seconds for the air around him to thicken and slow, strangling his forward momentum. She shot past him and she thought, above the roar of the winds and Grey Sentinel's repeated calls to wait in her ear, that she heard him swear.

She grinned beneath her mask.

He darted down towards street level and she swooped down along with him. Glowing lines of force shimmered in front of her; twisting, she shot through them. She reached ground level and hovered, turning-

There. He was running along the side of the building, away from her. She shot after him, eating up the distance between them in seconds.

He turned and neon symbols spread around him, constructing a wall. She flew past, summoning scythes of wind around her; half of the neon symbols fell to pieces, their lines disrupted. Grunting, he dropped down to ground level. More neon-coloured beams shot out at her, trying to box her in.

She flew away, breaking the distance between them while lances of compressed air pieced the ground around him. The scruffy villain turned and darted into a nearby alleyway, more lines blocking her path-

May growled, feeling her blood rush through her veins, feeling the strange heat spread in her brain. She flew up and over the alley, avoiding the mass of bright lines of force that appeared around him, before plummeting down, hands raised to constrict and bind him-

-and he slammed into her.

He was big and solid and heavy while she was willowy and light. The two of them went sprawling. She felt his weight atop her, pressing her into the filthy alleyway paving.

She saw his eyes, wide and shocked underneath her mask; he'd blundered into her, she realised, and the knowledge only made her angrier. She opened her mouth to say something but only an incoherent snarl came out the other end. He jerked his face away like he expected her to bite him.

"Fuck, I didn't mean-"

She shoved hard against him and it did nothing against his weight. She felt the heat inside her spike, a roaring sensation in her ears.

"Look, I don't-"

She summoned her winds but there was no air between him and her and she growled in frustration, slim hands beating against him. He moved again, and their hips pressed together.

"Okay, no-"

She felt something hard and long press against her stomach and then-

He moved up, creating a gap.

She seized him with clamps of air and pushed. They flipped over, her straddling him, face contorted with rage. She yelled, "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"I didn't-"

"You fucker!"

It was his turn to snarl at her. "Fuck you lady! I didn't ask for this shit!"

"You asked for this shit when you went back to crime! I can't believe I gave you another chance!"

"I was helping a friend!"

"You were ruining my fucking night!"

"Meddling bitch!"

"Criminal scum!"

He tried to rise but winds pinned him down. She shifted her weight, feeling his hardness through his shitty cheap jeans.

This criminal.

This fucking, half-wit, rotten, shitty, scruffy-

He pulled her down. Her lips opened.

She kissed him hard enough to bruise.

He responded, tongue pushing into her mouth like an invader. He growled, and the vibrations through her mouth only inflamed her more. His hand grabbed her costumed waist and pushed her roughly against him, hands digging deep into her sides. She responded by plunging her hands into his hair, fingers pressing against his skull as she shoved him deeper into the kiss.

Time vanished as the two of them made out in the dim alleyway, glaring and snarling, hips moving as they rubbed their bodies together.

He pushed away first and she laughed at his weakness; laughed at the taste of blood in her mouth. That pissed him off, and with a flare of neon light he tore away at her top. She gasped as her breasts, small and perky, were open to the cold air of the night.

Fuck him. She pulled down her zipper and pushed her costume down to her waist. Conjured a storm of tiny razor-sharp winds that ripped and shredded his shirt underneath his jacket. A broad expanse of muscle was revealed, hairy and strong.

A moment later his hands closed over her tits, rough fingers digging into smooth flesh, palms rubbing against stiff nipples, and she went insane.

Things got confused after that, hands and lips, arms and powers, clothes being ripped and shredded and pulled. He got atop of her again, and her leggings got tangled around her feet; he had claw-marks down his broad chest, deep enough to draw blood. They were panting and babbling, hate and lust and madness spilling out of their mouths. It was so hot, hotter than a fire, hotter than hell, both of them sweaty. His awful Hound jacket was underneath her hips as she managed to spread her legs while he lined up and pushed inside-

Bliss. Hot, painful, sweaty, panting, screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs bliss. She lay there while he fucked her, rough and cruel, and it felt better than anything she'd ever felt before. She fought and swore and spat and scratched but she fought for more, for him to go harder, for him to not stop; to never stop. The pleasure came in waves, raw and sudden, until it built into something like an awful blinding light, and she-

When the pleasure finally passed, when she finally came back to herself, half-blind and ears buzzing, her body light and heavy all at once, she looked around.

Neon Hound was gone. Someone was calling her name. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus.

"Windshear?"

She looked up.

Exiled Prince and Endless. Endless knelt by her, the dusky woman's almond eyes filled with concern beneath her gold and silver mask. Exile stood above, his Archon features frowning as though he didn't understand what was going on.

Windshear blinked.

Then she screamed.

***

In the end they took her back to the Tower of Legends. The massive skyscraper, half gothic fortress and half technological marvel, sat atop the Isle of Heroes. The structure- strengthened by alien technology, advanced magical arts and more than a few divine blessings- housed living quarters, science labs, training grounds and medical bays.

It was in one of these that Windshear sat. She'd given up trying to save her uniform and was now dressed in a thin dress. She looked up at a Endless as she spoke, her eyes on the pad in front of her.

"Nothing physically wrong with you," The immortal heroine said. "Soe bruises, some scrapings..." She looked at the hero. "I can take a sample-"

Windshear shook her head. "No. It's not necessary."

Endless paused. "Are you sure? It might be important."

"No. No thank you."

Both women looked up as the door opened and Grey Sentinel walked in. He looked grim, although May had worked with him long enough to distinguish worried grim from his resting grim face. He said, "I need a summary of what happened-"

"Sentinel!" Endless frowned. "A little gentleness would not go astray."

Grey Sentinel- clad in his drab robes, his mask featureless and dark- paused and then nodded. Endless turned, her ageless face breaking into a gentle smile. "We just wish to understand what happened."

Windshear sighed. "I don't know. One moment we were fighting and then..."

"Did he-"

"No. It wasn't like that. It was like...like all of a sudden we both lost control. Like I wasn't thinking straight. Like both of us weren't thinking straight."

Endless smiled gently. Then she sat down and took one of Windshear's hands in her own. "I know sometimes people do strange things in the heat of battle-"

May shook her head. "No. I never...he's a lowlife, Endless. An idiot who keeps screwing up second chances. God, I never thought of him like that. I mean, we hate each other."

"Okay." She nodded. "Then we'll find him. Determine precisely how he did this and make sure he can't do it again."

There was something in the way that she said the words that made May pause. "Don't hurt him."

"Windshear-"

"He's not...he isn't...I'm not sure this is his fault."

Grey Sentinel frowned and May shivered. Grey Sentinel had a lot of frowns, each one very good at expressing a particular type of displeasure. This one said, I'm worried about your ability to make rational decisions right now.

May spoke up. "It felt like he was as surprised as I was."

Grey Sentinel's frown deepened into I don't care if he's innocent, I'm going to make him suffer anyway. Endless sighed. "We'll keep an open mind. But no mistake- we're going to find Neon Hound and find out exactly what he knows."

***

"I have no idea what happened," Neon said.

Chain Devil made a mmmmph sound as she twitched her wrist. A mass of chains darted from the corners of the room and back to her, coiling around her arms and legs like a friendly mass of serpents. "You got laid, buddy."

"Well, yeah."

"While I was fighting for my life, I might want to point out."

Neon looked at the unconscious men and women sprawled out around the shattered confines of the warehouse the two villains stood in. "Come on. It was the Bloody Eight."

"Point. But still."

Neon sighed, aware he was dressed in a mask, ripped pants and little else. He self-consciously rubbed the bite marks on his shoulder. "It was the weirdest thing that ever happened."

Chain sighed and stretched out, her tall, muscled frame drawing his eye even as the power-strengthened chains slithered over her body. "If you ask me, it was inevitable."

"Seriously?"

"Oh come on," she said, her red eyes flashing with amusement. "You two have been at each other's throats for like, three years now? And she still spoke up at your parole hearing in your favour."

"Uh huh." The two of them walked away from the groaning pack of D-grade villains and into the cold night air.

"So, I reckon Little Miss Tight Outfit's got a serious girl crush for you. Maybe she likes the whole leather jacket and unshaven look, I dunno. Or maybe she just wants to heal you." Chain Devil laughed.

"It didn't feel like she wanted to heal me." He pointed to the claw-marks along his chest. "Pretty sure she wanted to kill me through fucking."

Devil shrugged. Neon noticed the way her chains coiled around her chest, emphasising her breasts even as the movement made them jiggle a little. She smiled wickedly and he realised he was staring.

"Well," she said, "there's something to be said for a bit of the rough. Don't you think?"

Neon stared at his friend, at her smouldering look, at her exotic features just a tad sharper and crueller than a human's and thought he felt the world shudder just a little. She was sweating, he realised, his brow sprinkled with moisture despite the cool night air.

"Let's got grab a drink," he said.

"Good idea. My place."

"We could hit-"

"No," she said, turning away. "Definitely my place. And I want a blow-by-blow account of what you did to her." She walked into the night, her hips rolling as she walked.

Neon watched her go. He felt the first prickling of sweat on his bare chest.

What the hell was going on?