Page 91 of All Superheroes Need PR
Nessa asked me plenty of questions about it and about my childhood. I shared all the answers with her that I could ... except for the fact that my childhood actually spanned three times as many Earth years on Tratharine as it would have here, subject to this planet’s gravity. But I wasn’t about to tell Nessa that, in Earth years, I’m actuallynottwenty-nine but over forty. We have enough to work through as is. Including ... how I am physically going to make this work.
Nessa starts to move past me toward the couch, but I stop her, hooking two fingers into the collar of her shirt. “You want to keep this, or should I tear it?”
Her pupils dilate and the smell intensifies, all perfection and salt and sweet, sweet rain. “I’ll take it off.”
“Good girl.”
“Everything?” she whimpers as soon as she’s pulled her T-shirt off over her head. It’s a T-shirt with my monstrous face on it that’s being sold at ridiculous prices by the COE merch shop and that Nessa thinks is hilarious. I’d much prefer it shredded on the floor. Or incinerated.
“Anything you wanna keep. Stop,” I tell her when she’s naked in front of me and turning toward the couch. Her skin is so damn smooth. I don’t know how she got so smooth. Little scars, stretch marks, a little jiggle in her ass and below her belly button. Full tits. All of it so damn ... smooth.
“What?” she says, sounding as vulnerable as she looks, so small now below me.
“Just admiring the angle.”
“What angle?”
My gaze devours her. “All of them.”
She bites her bottom lip, and blood flowers in her skin. Her brown cheeks glitter.
My voice cracks. “Turn to face me. Unbuckle my belt.” The design team has been having a goddamn field day trying to come up with an entirely new uniform—not to mention new clothes—to fit me. These pants I hate less than some of their other ideas, as they are a simple black pant that leaves room for my cock and doesn’t hug too tightly around my thighs and assandhas a slit up the back ankle to make space for the fact that my legs are now shaped like some unholy mix of a devil’s and a werewolf’s. Vanessa doesn’t seem to mind. She’s actually taking this so easily, I worry a little that there’s something deranged about her, but I damn sure am not gonna suggest she fix it. She’s mine. And she’s perfect.
“Fuck,” I hiss. Vanessa’s fingers graze the space between my hip bones as she undoes the button and pulls the zipper down, my cock bulging at the seam.
“Do you want them off?” she asks, completely naked, vulnerable everywhere. For me. Only me.
“Yes,” I growl. “Go slow.”
So slowly I could cry, she drags my pants down my legs. I lift one foot and then the other and let her take them down past my talons until she’s sitting on the edge of the couch right in front of my cock. She licks her lips, and I nearly abandon all restraint and shove my rising erection into the back of her throat until she gags. Nearly.
Half-choked, I grunt, “Kneel on the couch for me.” My hand covering my cock, I exhale deeply. “Want you to see what you’re working with, baby.”
“Okay,” she says, but I can barely hear her, her voice is so strained.
I hesitate to show her. Had myself checked over a dozen times by Dr. Larsen just to make sure everything would be okay. She gave her stamp of approval for Vanessa and I to engage in ... activities, but it’s a lot.
“Do you trust me?” she whispers.
I blink down at her, surprised by the question. “Of course.”
“Then don’t hide from me.” Her hand strokes up my naked hip, palm fitting above the bulging muscle in my thigh. I’m too fucking bulky, too goddamn big for her human shape.
“Don’t know what I did to deserve you. I love you. Remember that when you see it.” I drop my hands.
Her pupils are fully blown as she watches my cock bob toward her face. For a moment, there’s only silence between us, which I take as a win. At least she doesn’t scream.
My cock, which once had brown skin covering a veiny shaft, is now the girth of a goddamn Coke bottle, as long as her forearm and dark red. Veins zigzag down my erection, leading to a purple head that flares at the base before sharpening to a curved tip. And if all thatweren’t terrifying enough, in the past three weeks since my reversion has settled, I’ve developed strange bumps all along the underside of my dick, smooth to the touch ... and hard until I come and they ...elongate.
“What are ...” She swallows, her voice breaking as she drags a single finger up the ridges on the underside of my cock.
I stroke my claws back through her hair, wanting to pull her forward but wanting her to find her own way more. “They don’t hurt. The width will ... take some work if you really want me to try ... but it’s what happens after I come that I’m worried about.”
“You’ve been jacking off?”
She sounds almost hurt. I scrape my claws along her scalp and watch as her eyelids flutter blissfully. “For medical reasons. You’ve been jacking off, too, if you haven’t forgotten.”
“Only because you wanted to watch me.”
