You Be My Hero, I'll Be Yours

She was almost sure Chaz couldn't have been able to hear the nervous thrill running through her. God, she had wanted him to press in close behind her, pin her against the counter. Now this was even better, his sexually-charged attention focused entirely on her, on his knees. His hands moved over her lower legs, concentrating on her leather-clad calves and ankles. Every time they rose, nearing the boot tops, she tensed, waiting for his fingers to find bare, tender flesh: her erogenous confession. Instead, the exploration descended again. Where were his eyes? What was he looking at? She felt vulnerable, exposed and pampered, the focus of every bit of his attention.

Again, the hands climbed, one on each boot. They stopped at the very edge of the top white trim. She scarcely dared breathe.

"Eep!" She had never heard that particular whiny squeak escape her before. All because of one light brush along the back of one knee. She twisted to look down behind her, finding his pleased grin.

"Oops. Sorry. You did mention something about this being a sensitive spot, didn't you?"

"And you happened to just remember that tidbit of very personal, privileged information?"

"Just remembered? Are you kidding? I've been struggling to concentrate on anything besides the back of your legs ever since. And then you had to go and put on these boots, showcasing this lovely, soft spot.

Two thumbs stroked in parallel, one behind each knee.

"Ahh! Chaz!"

"Too much? Do you want me to stop?"

"Umm. No. Don't stop on my account. If you feel the need, I can even take a little more. I think." She tried to sound casual, at the same time struggling to keep her thighs from starting to shake. Her knees felt weak, barely capable of holding her up. The thumbs renewed slow, circular caresses.

She straightened, looking forward, concentrating, her hands braced on the sink's edge, gripping hard. God his touch felt good. She succeeded in maintaining silence until the thumbs retreated, leaving the tender spots abandoned and tingling, her lowest tummy now a swirl of turmoil, tension.

"Oh! Mmmm. That's...uh...really nice." Nice? Electricity thrummed through her. His touch had been replaced with a zephyr of warm air, his breath somehow more intimate, more stimulating than his touch. She knew without a doubt that any hand wandering up between her thighs would now find her own slick-wet heat, obvious even through what she wore.

His lips pressed soft over where thumbs and breath had teased. It was too much.

"Uhhh!" It was guttural, heavy, a groan from deep in her throat. Her knees gave out. If strong, heavy hands hadn't caught her, held her up and pinned to the counter, she probably would have collapsed on top of him. Instead, she squirmed, his soft lips joined by a more insistent tongue, trading attention between both her knees.

It was loud as he sucked in air, panting. He was the one driving her crazy and still he sounded so very excited himself. She took advantage of the momentary respite. "Hey."

Barely-there lips feathered over her for an instant, sending shudders through her frame, before he replied. "Yes?"

She twisted again, to see his flushed, smiling, honest face gazing up at her. His grip relaxed, allowing her to complete the turn, her back now to the sink.

"Why don't you bring one of those nice kisses up here, handsome?"

Her hands reached for his broad shoulders, slipped behind his neck as he stood, so very close, both of them suddenly unsure. It was the first time she'd clung to him like this when she wasn't near tears. Or worse. "You're so tall."

It was true: with the help of the boots, their eyes were essentially level. "I know. It's so I can do this."

She leaned in the few inches needed to brush her nose along his.

"Mmm. That's nice." His voice was a low rumble.

"'Mmm?'" She teased. "That's my line."

Then he kissed her. It was soft, slow, both of them starting to explore on cue, as if in mutual agreement. His hold on her body tightened as a dizzying wave passed through her.

When they finally eased back she was thrilled to feel, see, hear him panting for breath. She leaned in for another soft peck before combing thick damp hair off his brow with her fingers. "Hi, my Super Man."

He smiled, eyes bright. "Hello, my Wonder Woman."

"On that topic, can I show you something?"

"Something else? I don't know. Your last showing drove me to my knees."

"And you seemed driven to my knees too. Especially the backs of them."

He pulled her in for another kiss. A hungrier one. Small, satisfied sounds escaped between tingling lips.

"Wow." She felt like she was literally melting inside.

It was his turn to brush his nose along hers. "'Wow' is right, gorgeous lady. Now, what were you going to show me?"

She pushed him back, her hands tugging at her robe's belt. His eyes went wide. "Cheryl, are you sure..."

"Yes I'm sure. Back up, young man. I want you to get the full effect. Prepare to be amazed."

*CHAZ*

He backed up. Could something be more amazing than Cheryl's naked body, finally exposed? Caught up in the moment, he forgot entirely about the cloth he'd felt under the robe. He watched the belt fall open before she pulled the sides of the white terry cloth wide, like a cartoon flasher.

She really was Wonder Woman. At least as much as Lynda Carter had ever been on TV. From the red and white boots to the long expanse of bare legs that finally disappeared into a high-waisted, strapless costume, star-spangled below a bustier of gold and red.

"No. It can't be." He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. This was totally unexpected and it took him a moment to take in all that she had revealed. One small, critical detail caught his attention. The laugh choked off as he stared. Startled eyes flashed up to her face, dropped, stared again.

"What? What is it?" She looked down, following his line of sight, and gasped.

"No!" His voice sounded panicked and high to his ears, but it stopped the slender hands reaching for the top edge of her strapless costume. He stepped close, a fist catching each of her wrists, guiding her unresisting arms up, out past her bare shoulders. She turned, led him in a short tuneless dance, one, two, three, retreating the few steps until her back met the kitchen wall, hands pinned to either side of her head.

Between them, the object of their mutual surprise stayed openly on display: one full, pale-tan breast and its darker pink, perfect nipple completely exposed, popped out of the top of the tight metallic bustier.

Cheryl gave a brief struggling resistance that showed no real inclination to escape.

He leaned down, closer, letting his warm breath again feather over her, over another erogenous spot. "It's my turn to push your buttons, beautiful."

His lips delicately seizing the raised nipple between them.

"Oh." He could hear her surprise. "Chaz. Yes."

He sucked at it, letting his tongue flicker over its hardening tip. One long leg bent, bare thighs squeezed together, squirming. "Mmm-hmm! Yes. Yes. Yes. Just. Like. That!"

Eventually he released it with a loud, wet 'pop,' standing back up. It reminded him of how tall she was in her boots, and rewarded him with a view of Cheryl's eyes wide and wild, hearing her deep panting breath as she leaned back against the supporting wall.

"Hey, Supe." It sounded like speaking took an effort. "Wanna make out with Wonder Woman?"

He didn't answer except to lean in, finding her eager lips and tongue with his own. Instinctively, he froze when he felt his own hardness press against her, then ground harder yet against her when she responded with a prolonged moan. A leg wrapped around his, a boot hooking behind his calf, pulling him closer.

*CHERYL*

When the kiss ended they were both breathing hard, with matching shy grins. She watched him closely as he reached up, big hands ever so gently pulling the top edge of her bustier out, allowing her exposed breast to ease back under it, the nipple now out of sight. "I'll be seeing you later."

She snorted, shaking her head at his charming silliness, talking to her boob. He even offered it a farewell wave of waggling fingers.

His hands slid up, slipped the open robe off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor. It felt right to return her hands high, pinned against the wall, his grip on them no longer needed. She could only watch, drinking in the intensity of his concentration as he stroked down her sides, exploring her -- Wonder Woman's -- skimpy attire with his hands and eyes, his touch and sight.

"So. You had this on the whole time, hidden, just letting me babble on about what a wonderful wonder of a woman you are?"

"Yep. Ooh. Does this mean I need punished?" She tried to continue his silly repartee, keep the focus off of how good his big hands felt on her, how big, solid he seemed, so close in front of her.

"Punished? Like tied up and spanked? Dominated?"

"Um...maybe." That quickly, all she could muster was a whisper, little more than a squeak.

"Wait a minute. As wonderful as this is, if you're Wonder Woman, there's some things missing." God he was sweet, changing the subject like that. A part of her though was disappointed, eager to be overpowered, held down and -- Yes! -- dominated by the young man.

"I know! I have her little tiara thing and her bracelets..."

"The bullet-blocking ones?" He imitated Lynda Carter's signature defensive move, intercepting imagined gunfire with one wrist, then the other.

"Those are the ones. But I couldn't hide that stuff under my robe. Though, now that I think of it, there was one other accessory. It wasn't with the rest of the costume."

His honest face was so obviously thinking, the engineer in him putting things together. It was dangerous: the effect he had on her, with the two-pronged approach of his tender, thoughtful, gentle nature and his hulking physical presence. What was going through his head now?

"If you like," She didn't remember changing her position but her hands were both on his chest now, hefting the heavy muscles. "I could go get them, put them on for you?"

His grin was instantaneous. "Would you?"

"For my Superman? Anything." She kissed him before slipping out of the narrow space between his bulk and the wall. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time, lovely heroine. I just remembered, I left something in the garage."

Cuffs and crown were still in her closet. She felt giddy, like a schoolgirl Cheryl having a crush unexpectedly compliment her, telling her how pretty she looked today. Two snaps each and both wrists were covered in shiny, metallic sleeves. The tiara took a little longer. She was still adjusting it in the mirror, arranging her thick hair over the sigil centered on her forehead, when she heard Chaz return from the garage. Another unexpected thrill shot through her when he strode into her bedroom without her needing to invite him. Close behind her, his reflection held her mirrored eyes with his own.

A thin, bright stripe of gold flashed between them. She saw it settle, snugged tight around her chest and upper arms. Her gasp was sudden.

"Is that...my lasso?" Her voice matched her mood: she suddenly felt -- and sounded -- weak, small, vulnerable. She remembered Johnathan spray painting the length of rope, leaving the garage full of heady fumes.

Chaz looped another golden circuit around her, then a third. "It is indeed, Wonder Woman. Your golden lasso. I saw it in the garage earlier but didn't recognize it for what it was."

"You're going to tie Wonder Woman up with her own lasso?"

"I am. And I believe your famous golden lasso has a very special power, doesn't it?"

She nodded yes, staying silent.

"Would you like to tell us about it?"

She shook her head. No.

He laughed. "I believe you're telling the truth: you really don't want to say. So I'll ask again: what special power does your lasso have?"

She glared at him through the mirror. "Anyone tied up with it has to tell the truth."

*CHAZ*

A wave of nervousness passed through him now that she had said it out loud: what should he ask her, knowing she would answer honestly, trusting him. What question should he ask? He drew in a deep breath.

"Now that I've got you tied up, Wonder Woman, you already told me about the sensitive backs of your knees. That turned out to be very true, and without the lasso's help. Tell me another truth: I brought up Wonder Woman, not knowing this incredible display of gorgeousness was already hiding under the robe. But what was your idea, your plan, your hope for how things would work out if I hadn't mentioned anything?"

"Wow." She was serious, studying him in the mirror.

"Wow?"

"Yes. That was a really good question."

"And that isn't much of an answer."

"But it is the truth. Do I really have to answer this one?"

Seen in reflection, her eyes were...searching. For something. What? Permission to not answer? Or maybe: permission and encouragement to go ahead and answer, to reveal something important. He kissed her neck, slipping arms around her costumed body. She leaned back against him, into the kiss.

"You are tied up with your own magic golden lasso. If magic and superpowers work, if I really am your superhero, and you are mine, I don't see how you can avoid answering. But if it makes it easier, I want you to know that you can trust me: nothing said here, or done here, under the duress of a magic lasso or otherwise, will ever be repeated by me."

"Mmm!" She squirmed against him. "So sweet. Silly, but sweet. You're really not going to want to repeat anything done here?"

The squirming had started with her shoulders. It now centered lower, her remarkable, blue and white backside grinding against his hardness. His first instinct was to pull away again, embarrassed at the obviousness of his excitement, but his arms decided otherwise, tugging her in closer yet.

He forced words out through uncooperative, clenched jaws. "Hey. I'm the one asking questions here."

She went on. "'Cause I'm sure there are things we've already done that I know I want to repeat."

"Are you avoiding the question?"

She laughed. "Yes. Absolutely."

He nibbled at one ear peaking out through her thick hair. "Turn around."

"Why?" Her bottom squirmed against him even more. "This too much for you?"

He nibbled again at the ear, rewarded by a shiver passing through her. "Almost too much, but I think I can handle it. As long as you don't push any extra buttons."

"Mmm. You know how I like my buttons." She twisted to look back at him, grinning. The motion made it easy for his stronger hands to spin her further around, so that she was facing him.

He kissed her, finding soft eager lips followed closely by her tongue. With the lasso around her upper arms, only his embrace kept them close. When they separated enough for air she pouted, full, sensual lower lip pushed out in protest.

He stroked one cheek. "What's wrong, Wonderous One?"

"It's frustrating."

"What's frustrating?"

"I'm making out with Superman and tied up like this I can't even touch him or hug him or run my hands all over his thick Kryptonian body."

He chuckled, deep in his chest. "But what if Superman likes it like this? As good as your hands feel on this body, maybe he enjoys knowing you're helpless and that -- as strong and tough as you are, Princess of the Amazons - you can do nothing to stop him from picking you up and tossing you onto the bed, pinning you down and..."

Her eyes had changed dramatically. Dilated, dark, inflamed, they were a flood of turmoil and excitement. Her jaw was set, determined, almost angry. "How do you do it?"

He was confused, but the sudden flare of vivid passion was intoxicating. "Do what?"

"Know what to say, what to do, and when. You called me Wonder Woman when I was dressed as her under my robe, struggling with how to reveal it. Now, you ask me the right question, and then already know my secret answer."

The confusion had, if anything, only increased. "So, we're back to what you did have in mind, if I hadn't said anything."

"There was something last night. Something you said. And how you reacted when we fell off the couch in a tangle."

"When I shoved you off and then landed on you. I could've hurt you."

"Chaz. Enough. You're a really big strong guy. Have you ever worried about holding back, so you don't hurt someone you were...you know, with?"

His short laugh held no humor. "Ever? Always."

Where was she going with this? It was true though: he always felt he had to hold back. One girl -- cute and petite and smart, a Math major - had refused to see him again after their first night. He had been gentle, attentive. The sex had been great, even if she only wanted to ride him, staying on top. Then, afterwards, he had rolled on top of her while they slept. He blamed her soft 'memory foam' bed. She said she could have suffocated.

"Now think about Superman."

What was she talking about? "Wait. What? And there you go again. How do you keep coming up with things that leave me befuddled and stammering. Superman?"

"Yeah. Him. Super strong. Able to endure almost anything. Super breath stronger than a hurricane. Super vision like a laser. How is someone like that going to ever cut loose, not hold back, really enjoy sex?" Now even his thoughts stammered, overwhelmed.

She wasn't done. "Imagine Supe with Lois Lane. He'd crush her. Even a mild thrust" -- she illustrated it with her own hips, pushing herself against him -- "would dislocate her pelvis, do untold damage to her internal organs. If he came inside her, it would probably blow her head clean off."

Laughter rose as the possibilities she was extolling grew more ridiculous. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. He tried to hide his smile, failed, shaking his head.

"So what's a frustrated Kryptonian to do? Supergirl could take it, but she's blood. That would be way too kinky for Kal-El or Clark, the straight-laced pair of alter egos. That leaves Wonder Woman. Nearly immortal, tough as heck, and strong. As long as Superman doesn't start tossing planets around she'll survive. Who knows? She's probably had to hold back too, and been waiting for some big, strong, superhero to rock her world."

"Wow." Had she just thought of this? No. This was her answer -- the plan for her secret superhero reveal.

Her smile was stretched wide, delighted with her own cascade of images.

"That was your plan? Casually work Superman's limited choice of sex partners into the conversation before bringing Wonder Woman up as a possible solution?"

She nodded. "Pretty much."

"And then offer up your Wonder Woman to my Superman, so I don't have to...hold back? Or worry about hurting you?"

She inhaled a deep breath before continuing.

"Almost. This is more about me. Your Wonder Woman - that's me -- desperately wants her Superman -- that's you -- to use that amazing, powerful body of yours. Toss me around, pin me down, have your way with me. Rip my clothes off. Trust me to know what I can handle, what I want, and that I will tell you in no uncertain terms if I feel any worry or I want you to ease up. Do you trust me?"

He realized he'd been holding his breath and sucked in air. He had never even imagined someone speaking this way. Certainly not this stunning fantasy girl-literally-next-door.

*CHERYL*

She gave him time to process. She took that moment for enjoyment, to take pride in her finally getting that out, even a little bit of what she both needed and feared to say.

His jaw set, looking more than ever like a hero. He nodded, once, strong. "Yes. I trust you."

"Then take me, Su...Woohooo!"

The squeal escaped her as he swept her into his arms, through the air. With the lasso still around her arms she couldn't cling to him, had to trust him to keep her safe. He swung her in a circle, red boots kicking. The next squeal was less surprise, more unrestrained giggling.