Get excited for the upcoming release of The Coming End novel. Spotlight is always eager to show off…
This wasn’t the first time Spotlight woke up in a stranger’s bed. The challenge was escaping without waking that stranger.
It was hot and smelled of sweat and berry lube, inviting Spotlight to stay under the covers, and maybe try for round four. This was the usual choice he faced. But the longer he stayed, the more likely something terrible would happen, like learning the guy’s name. Spotlight lifted the corner of the blanket and slid his foot out, careful not to rustle the mattress.
The stranger rolled over. Spotlight froze with his leg hanging over the bed’s edge. The guy’s eyes were still closed. Spotlight waited, holding his breath.
The morning after lacked all the kinkiness of the night before. This was raw, with his naked body coated in sweat and a crust of cum lingering on his cock. He didn’t like being seen like this, especially in the harsh morning light. At night, Spotlight could strut around in his spandex suit, flash a smile, and have his choice of guy (or guys). He knew the best superhero clubs in Edge City, and the goal of everyone there was to get underneath his spandex. Sometimes he’d hook up right at the club, then fly back to his own bed. Every once in a while, he went home with someone. But never to his place. Only theirs. Only with strangers.
Spotlight inched his butt to the side of the bed and stretched his foot to the cold floor.
His phone rang.
The guy grumbled, then yawned. His arms stretched out, pushing the blanket away, revealing a muscular, hairy chest and hairier armpits. His eyes opened. He smiled. “Hey there.”
The phone kept ringing, a steady chime of electronic beeps and boops that resembled a PR firm’s idea of “sounding futuristic.”
A red hue covered the room through the closed blinds. Spotlight struggled to adjust to the dimness. He lifted his finger. The tip glowed a pale white, washing over the dark floor and bringing the previous night’s mess into view. Clothes lined a path from the door to the bed, mostly the other guy’s. A lamp remained on its side. A bookshelf looked like it had survived an earthquake. They’d managed to mess up every surface in the room.
Under the window sparkled the iridescent spandex of Spotlight’s uniform. His phone lay face down beside it.
Spotlight jumped from the bed and grabbed his phone with his unlit hand. “Hold that thought,” he said, distracted by the guy’s flexing biceps. He extinguished the light from his finger, tapped the screen, then brought it to his ear.
“Spotlight, baby, how’s my favorite superhero?” His agent, Kenneth Holt.
Asshole.
“Work,” Spotlight whispered to his hookup. If this call went on too long, it would get awkward. At some point, the guy would start talking. Asking questions. Like what’s his name?
Whatshisname wrinkled his nose, then rolled onto his back and stretched his arms behind his head. The blanket slipped down, revealing his chiseled abs. Spotlight turned away to avoid temptation.
“What’s up?” he said into the phone.
“Scaffolding collapse on Wackker Dr.,” Kenneth said. “Press is already on their way. Major client owns the building, so avoid any more damage.”
Spotlight stood naked over his uniform, stiff in all the wrong places. “Anyone hurt?”
“Nah. Just two construction workers stuck on what’s remaining. It’ll be a quick photo op, then get to the office. New sponsors I want you to meet.”
Photo ops. That was how he spent his time as a superhero—promoting products instead of saving the world.
“Where’s the fire department?” Spotlight asked.
“They don’t have investors to keep happy.” Kenneth’s acerbic tone stung through the phone. “Save the day, then get over here.”
Spotlight bit his lip, holding back what he wanted to say. Future Industries had funded his superhero lifestyle for almost five years now. He had a contract. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Ten,” Kenneth said. “Channel 6 is already there.”
Spotlight sighed. “I’m on my way.”
“That’s my boy,” Kenneth said. “Give ‘em a good show.”
Spotlight tossed the phone on the bed and turned away.
“The world’s not ending, is it?” the guy asked.
“Nothing to worry about.” Spotlight reached down for his uniform.
“You’re my first superhero.” The guy posed on his side, letting the blanket drape seductively over his waist and leg. “I’m up for another go. Especially with you showing off like that.”
Spotlight stared at the hunk inviting him back into that warm bed. The spandex uniform hung between his fingers, so light it barely registered as weight.
There were hundreds of superheroes in this city. Any one of them could deal with this situation better than him. Firefighters, police. Someone with a tall ladder. The only reason Spotlight got the call was because he was under contract–the lackey for a large corporation looking to engender some goodwill by sponsoring the “Superhero from the Future.” Guarantee a brighter future by casting a spotlight on it. Groan.
“Sorry,” Spotlight said, looking down at his bare feet. “Can’t now.” He tapped the button on the waist of his uniform. The fabric glowed, then expanded around his legs, up his waist and torso, and reached out over his arms. Blue and silver covered his body, clinging to his muscles and molding over him. Goggles appeared over his eyes, and metal bands wrapped around his wrists.
“That’s fucking hot,” the guy said, featuring a hard-on between his spread open legs. “You haven’t told me about my future yet…” He crawled across the bed and reached for Spotlight’s spandex covered bulge. His fingers traced the clear outline of his shaft, tightening the fabric enough to leave little to the imagination. He squeezed the spandex, sliding up along the silky surface, leading to unwanted excitement underneath. The guy’s lips came forward, open and eager. If they made contact, Spotlight knew he’d be caught in their trap.
“Quick,” Spotlight said. “I’ve got to save the day.”
“You know what this mouth can do,” the guy said. “I can’t let you leave without another taste.”
The guy’s lips latched onto the spandex over Spotlight’s hardening bulge. Spotlight loved the feeling of spandex against his cock, and the warmth of those lips seeped through. The tongue followed the length of his shaft, wetting the fabric with saliva and pre-cum.
Spotlight let the spandex dissolve from his crotch, freeing his full length. The guy took it all in his mouth. He had a fantastic mouth. Spotlight remembered it from the night before. It was why he decided to go home with the guy–one round wasn’t going to be enough. But now he was choosing a blow job over his actual job.
It wasn’t the first time he’d made that choice.
The guy knelt on the mattress, one hand down for balancing, the other holding onto Spotlight’s cock, keeping it stiff for the mouth to work its magic. Lips slid back and forth, followed by an active tongue that seemed in determined pursuit of buried treasure. Even after three rounds the night before, Spotlight could tell he wasn’t going to last long. The guy deep throated Spotlight’s full length, moaning into his pelvis, making Spotlight echo the sentiment.
“Fuck!” Spotlight kept his hands on his hips, leaning back and letting the guy work the entire shaft. Try not to think of the time. That would ruin the experience.
The guy’s head and hand twisted in opposite directions. He lifted his other hand and grabbed Spotlight’s balls, giving them a tug.
That worked to distract Spotlight completely. He threw his head back and let his cock fill the guy’s mouth. The guy sputtered, but kept twisting, sucking in the superhero cum running down his throat and cheeks.
The red heat of the room swelled to Spotlight’s head, intensifying his post orgasm daze. He pulled back, even though there was still cum left to be licked off. At least he had that much discipline left.
“This was fun.” Spotlight placed a hand on the guy’s cheek. The spandex recovered his crotch, with traces of spit and cum still on the fabric. “Maybe we’ll do it again some time.” He slid his phone into a belt pouch that appeared, then sank back into his suit, giving him a clean silhouette. He stepped toward the window.
“What was your name again?” the guy asked.
Spotlight gripped the wall. His remaining euphoria drifted away. It was one thing for him not to remember a random hookup’s name. But how could this guy not know which superhero he was blowing?
“Bright something…” the guy said, scrunching his brow as if to squeeze knowledge from a stone.
“Spotlight.”
“Right. Of course. I knew it. I knew it.” The guy wiped the remaining cum from his lips with his thumb, cleaning it off with the towel left beside the bed. “You’re a member of the Crusaders, though, right?”
Spotlight knew he should have left before the guy woke up. Talking always made him feel worse. “I’ve got to go.”
“Can I get your number?” the guy asked. “You’re still hot.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Spotlight said. He opened the window and let the full sunlight fill the room. His cock ached with the recent pleasure, though the cool breeze shocked him back to reality. Then he launched himself out the window.
He activated his rocket boots once he cleared the brick façade of the building. Flying held his focus when his mind was inclined to wander. He had to keep his body stiff to cut down on wind resistance. Feet remained pointed to maintain a level of altitude and cruising speed. No sudden movements, or he’d end up crashing into the side of a building. Focus. Don’t think about the random guy he just ditched. Or about the job he wished he could be doing instead of the one he did. Three minutes from the construction site. With deft flying, he could make it in less.
Soaring over the city made him feel like a real superhero. From below, most people wouldn’t know who he was–only that they saw a real hero flying overhead. That would give them a thrill to power them through the day. It gave him a thrill, too.
It had been five years since Spotlight had walked through the portal in Hero Park and became the Superhero from the Future. He was the greatest spokeshero for Future Industries. That was because he knew what was going to happen centuries from now and could guide the world to a better tomorrow. That’s what all his posters said. All the marketing power of his conglomerate overlords. Whatever they said, he did. That was his job.
He didn’t like to think about the future. His present was frustrating enough. He’d signed his contract with Future Industries expecting to earn a spot with the Crusaders. Instead, he was stuck as an honorary member, only called in when his “expertise” was required. His “expertise” was rarely required. Too much risk involved with changing the future. Also, for some reason, they considered too much publicity a bad thing.
Hero Avenue swept underneath in a blur like a multi-colored river. Crowds always lined this street, day and night, as if superheroes were required to traffic their namesake road. This route was simply the most direct. Though once night fell, and he was no longer on call, he would return to Hero Ave., much as he did the night before. And the night before that. Dozens of spandex clubs lined the street, catering to heroes and their fans. He never had to leave alone if he didn’t want to.
Spotlight swung around the next turn at high speed, pushing his boots to their limits, rocketing down Wackker Dr., his destination in sight. News vans encircled a barricade of police cars and flashing lights. Scaffolding reached halfway up the brick building; metal pipes and beams piled on the ground below, a cloud of dust still refusing to settle. Edge City went through enough supervillain attacks that most buildings required regular repairs. A massive hole remained in the stone parapet around the roof.
Two construction workers clung to the side of the building, the scaffolding likely taken out by the fallen stones. They were about forty stories high, feet balancing on the barest of window sills, hands hanging onto a small piece of trim. They stood against each other, desperately squeezing into a space barely big enough for one of them. One wrong move would result in both of them falling.
But his boss, Kenneth, cared more about the building and their client.
A new cloud of dust fell from the roof–another stone might fall, taking down the men with it.
Spotlight deactivated his rocket boots, somersaulted in the air, then reactivated them and blasted toward the construction site. He adjusted his boots for hovering, though doing so while carrying two burly men would be a challenge beyond his suit’s specs. His holo-projections were either see-through or solid; he couldn’t generate something soft for the men to land on. He didn’t have the super strength of someone like Power Play. His muscles came from nightly rounds of cardio.
He flew close to the building, hovering under the two men. “Can you grab onto me?”
The construction workers glanced at each other, then at him, then at the ground. They dug their fingers into the cracking bricks. The sill wouldn’t hold their weight much longer.
“Who are you?” asked the rounder construction worker.
“That’s Metalsmith,” the bald one said.
Spotlight clenched his teeth. “I’m Spotlight. I’m here to rescue you.”
“Aren’t the Crusaders coming?” asked the round one.
“Do you want me to save you or not?” He shouldn’t snap at victims like that. It wasn’t their fault for not knowing who he was. When he started, he appeared in magazines and commercials, but not much in the past year. If a superhero wasn’t part of the Crusaders, was he really a superhero?
Spotlight’s phone rang. He could feel a scolding biting through his headset. Spotlight’s goggles showed it was Kenneth calling, as if knowing Spotlight was fucking up. He sent the call to voicemail.
No time to worry about photo ops right now, or ego. Nor did he care about protecting the building or securing a new contract with this client. Saving the men was the priority. It wouldn’t look good if he fell forty stories while carrying two civilians.
Spotlight inched upward enough to wrap his hands around each of the men’s waists. He couldn’t hold them himself, but if he held enough of their weight, it might give them a chance to grab onto him. He hoped his rocket boots would slow their descent enough to survive.
The phone rang again. Spotlight ignored it.
Lifting the two men was more difficult than expected. One of them was quite muscular and at least a head taller than Spotlight. The other, while shorter, traded height for width.
“You’ve got to grab onto me,” Spotlight yelled. “I’ve got you.”
“Maybe we should wait for the Crusaders,” the balder one said, hugging what he could of the wall.
“We don’t have much time,” Spotlight yelled.
The rounder one jumped first, landing all his weight on Spotlight’s arm.
Spotlight left one construction worker on the sill just before he fell several feet, with the other hanging off his neck. He’d have to do this in two trips. Hopefully, the other one could hold on a bit longer.
They dropped several more floors before Spotlight slowed their descent with his boots. It took the highest thrust, but they managed to reach the ground safely. Sirens blared. A crowd had formed at the edges of the police perimeter, yelling, screaming, and reaching out as if to make themselves closer to the heroics they were witnessing. A dozen television cameras focused on Spotlight, watching as he placed the construction worker on the ground. The construction worker dropped to his hands and knees, crawling on the ground as if promising to never leave it again.
Spotlight turned, ready to blast off and save the other. But his goggles caught subtle shifts in the brick. Dust blocked his view of the remaining construction worker. He rocketed upward, passing the construction worker hanging on with his fingernails. A chunk of the roof cracked apart, bringing a cloud of bricks and stone with it, aimed right for its panicked victim.
He extended his arms, casting a holo-shield ahead of him. Stone and brick crashed into his solid light construct, shattering apart and raining down the sides as harmless dust and pebbles. Once the danger was past, he traced the cracks in the wall with his enhanced spectral vision. A low-grade finger blast fused the main fracture together, avoiding, for now, any further collapse.
Spotlight spun around, ready to complete the rescue when a streak of blue flashed overhead. One second, the man remained hanging from the window. The next, he was standing on the ground, safely rescued, holding onto his savior, Flurry, the speedster member of the Crusaders. The media frenzy surrounded them, boxing out Spotlight from view. Even the first worker ran to Flurry, shaking his hand and bestowing all the thanks on the more famous hero.
Even with more than a hundred people surrounding him, Spotlight was invisible. Reporters forced their microphones in front of Flurry. The construction workers vanished amid the sea of official personnel, and by the time they got features on the news, Spotlight’s contribution would be completely forgotten. If history was any indication, he’d catch the blame for the building almost killing the three of them.
His phone rang again. “Where the fuck are you?” Kenneth demanded.
Spotlight blasted off, no longer needed to save anything or anyone. “I saved them.”
“My ass,” Kenneth said. “I see Flurry getting all your press. You’re supposed to know what’s going to happen. You should have anticipated that.”
Spotlight sped up his flight, hoping the wind would crackle over the audio.
“You let the building get damaged,” Kenneth continued.
“It was already crumbling,” Spotlight said. “I saved both men.”
“Just get here. The new sponsors are already waiting. If you’re not here in five minutes, we’re going to—”
It was rare to feel turbulence while flying this low, yet Spotlight’s svelte posture seemed to be broken apart by a thickness in the air, like he was swimming through a wave pool rather than flying through open sky. Spotlight spread out his arms to steady his flight. The call cut to a surge of static, then silence. On the street, cars screeched, some barely avoiding the stopped vehicle in front of them. Others collided. People stumbled, some falling, some catching hold of a wall or each other. A moment of dizziness made Spotlight consider if he should land. The sky seemed to dim, almost like an eclipse, but one wasn’t expected that day. And the street didn’t get dark as much as it seemed to fade. The dizziness passed as quickly as it hit. Spotlight restarted his course, finding it easier to keep straight again, even if his hands were still shaking. An earthquake? How would that affect him mid-flight? After a short pause once the vibrations stopped, cars resumed their forward momentum, people restarted walking, and no one gave the odd occurrence a second thought. Edge City was used to fringe events, and unless someone told them to be scared, they were going to continue about their day.
To be continued…get the full book from Gumroad or Amazon
