God, he was gorgeous.
Voodoo hovered, weightless as a ghost, watching Lynx swing through the night like an Olympic gymnast. He was built like a gymnast too, all massive shoulders and lean strength under the armor he wore. Though she couldn’t make out the color in this light, she knew the suit was made of some kind of studded dark brown leather, sculpted like a Roman centurion’s breastplate. Armored boots covered his long, brawny legs, matching the gauntlets over his big hands. The mask he wore was shaped like a lynx’s head, complete with snarling muzzle and backswept tufted ears. He looked like every leather-clad fantasy she'd ever had.
And a month ago, he’d saved her life.
The bruises had finally faded from the beating the Reaper had given her, even the ones around her throat from those massive hands. If Lynx hadn’t come along when he had, the bastard would have choked the life right out of her, there on that dirty rooftop.
A chill skated Voodoo’s spine as she remembered staring up into the Reaper’s hate-contorted face through darkening eyes. He’d shrugged off her every psi blast. It was as if she were hitting him with a pillow. Worse, her empathic senses had reported his arousal, his vicious enjoyment of her helplessness, of her dying struggles. She still had nightmares about that.
Then Lynx had come out of nowhere, slamming into the Reaper like a runaway train. Voodoo had collapsed in a bruised and gasping heap, too dazed to do more than suck air down her swollen throat as the brawl had begun.
The supervillain was more than seven feet tall, a massive, scarred nightmare of a man, yet he’d been no match for Lynx’s agility, speed, and skill. The hero had simply beaten him bloody, cuffed him, and called the cops to haul him off to jail.
Then Lynx had turned his attention to Voodoo, taking her to the hospital and waiting with her patiently through the treatment and tests that followed. Most heroes would have simply dropped her off at the ER, but Lynx seemed to sense that she’d desperately needed company.
In the aftermath of that brutal attack, he'd made her feel safe.
In retrospect, she was a little embarrassed about that. Voodoo was used to taking care of herself.
They'd met several times in the weeks since then. At first, Lynx had sought her out just to check on her, but later they'd gone on patrol together, then spent hours swapping war stories. Battles fought, innocents saved, idiots encountered.
Despite the laughter they'd shared, Voodoo hadn't needed empathic powers to sense his loneliness and dissatisfaction. Oh, she knew he was happy for his partner, who'd just found the woman of his dreams. Trouble was, he wanted something more himself. She could feel it.
She'd also sensed his attraction to her.
Yet he'd done nothing about his desire, apparently concerned she was still too fragile from Reaper's attack. But Voodoo was nobody's fragile flower.
And tonight, she was going to prove it. She wanted him, and she was tired of waiting for him to overcome those Boy Scout scruples.
Taking a deep breath, Voodoo gathered her power, lifted her hands, and waited for her moment. She didn't want to distract him in mid-swing.
Lynx touched down on a rooftop and paused, as if to catch his breath. A smile curling her mouth, Voodoo sent a wave of power surging toward him.
Breathing hard, Lynx paused and scanned the darkness. This was Voodoo's unofficial patrol zone, so with any luck, he should run into her again tonight.
He'd known a lot of superheroines over the years, but she was something special. No dilettante adrenaline junkie or spandex-clad wannabe, she was determined and serious, even after the attack that had come so close to killing her. Like him, she really believed in the necessity of what they did.
He'd been strongly tempted to beat Reaper to death for hurting her.
Lynx gave the skyline another questing scan, looking for the flap of a familiar cape. Nothing…
A female mouth suddenly closed around his cock, wet and hungry. He gasped and almost tumbled off his perch. Catching himself against a metal pipe, he threw a look downward. Despite his rioting senses, his groin armor was still firmly in place.
A clever tongue swirled and danced around his thickening shaft as ghostly fingers gently squeezed his balls. He grabbed for his dick, wondering if some invisible superwoman…