Trick of the Light

by Megan Derr

  On his hands and knees, facing the headboard, it could have been easy to forget that he couldn't see his lover. Even in the dark he should have been able to see something. But Karl didn't want to forget, wanted to remember every second of the encounter that to the rest of the world would look like he was being fucked by nothing.

  Why that went straight to his head, straight to his cock, and left him dizzy and breathless, Karl didn't know. But it was a heck of a rush to go from feeling like no one wanted him to being fucked by Trick of the Light, and the strangeness of it lent by Trick of the Light's invisibility made it all the hotter.

  He'd have laughed if he wasn't too busy begging for more.

  "You're dangerous." The words were spoken so softly that Karl half-thought he'd imagined them.

  Not that it mattered since, in the next breath, he forgot them and his own name, forgot everything but the heavy hands on his skin, the hot cock pushing inside him. "Trick…"

  "I like the way you say that," Trick of the Light said, pushing all the way inside him and holding still. "But you're not screaming it, and I definitely need to hear you scream."

  "Then stop talking and start moving."

  In reply, Trick of the Light started moving. Lord, when the man got serious he definitely got serious. Karl fisted his hands in the bedding and held on for dear life, not even able to wrap a hand around his cock as Trick of the Light pounded into him like there was a point to be made. "You're still not screaming."

  "That—" Karl broke off as Trick gave a particularly enthusiastic thrust. "That requires being able to breathe."

  "You can talk, you can scream," Trick of the Light replied, and Karl had thought the man had been pounding him before.

  He'd been wrong. Horribly, wonderfully wrong. He screamed as Trick drove deep, and it must have been close enough to Trick's name because after a few more graceless, hasty thrusts, Trick plastered himself to Karl's back and came.

  Karl whimpered a few minutes later when Trick carefully pulled out of him and flopped down next to him on the sweat-and-come-soaked bedding. "Definitely trouble."

  "I'm okay with being trouble if that's what it gets me," Karl managed. Play it casual, keep it cool. No trying to chat or keep Trick lingering.

  It wasn't like his dates ever wound up wanting to stay the night anyway. After the first few, Karl had stopped asking. Eventually, he'd stopped hoping too.

  At least Trick of the Light had good reason not to linger.

  Still, he felt a bit lonelier and colder when he felt and heard Trick roll away and climb out of bed.

  He did startle a bit when a hand landed on his shoulder, traced up to his mouth, and lingered a moment before being replaced by warm lips. Trick of the Light nuzzled against his cheek. "If I gave into another impulse sometime…"

  Oh, oh, oh. Karl swallowed. "I'll be here, and you obviously can let yourself in."

  That got him another kiss and a softly murmured, "Sweet dreams."

  Several minutes later, two fluffy bundles padded into the room and started yelling at him. Karl groaned and rolled over, but Rolex and Hamilton were having none of that. Giving up when they started pawing at his face, claws out, he climbed out of bed, gave them some treats from the bag in his night stand, then went to get a shower.

  *~*~*

  Karl slammed the phone back in its cradle. Two more weeks. Why in the world was it taking so long to fix his front window? Normally it took three days at worst, and usually they managed to get to it in under forty-eight hours.

  Granted, he was kind of sick of having it replaced and wasn't in a hurry to part with that kind of cash again (especially since the last time had been only a month ago, when Trick of the Light had saved him). But he couldn't put up a wall. That would make him feel like he lived in a box. If he thought it felt like a box, so would clients. Never mind that he wouldn't be able to see anything until too late.

  The weirdest thing was that it wasn't just him, though, which he would have grumbled about but dealt with. No, he'd been getting calls all day from fretful clients who wanted to make sure all was well with their claims because they were being blown off by repairmen and contractors… Especially all those who dealt in glass. There were only three companies in the city that could produce the special glass capable of standing up to much of what supers could do.

  And all of them were too busy—one wasn't even bothering to answer the phone anymore.

  Karl scowled at his watch, a 1970 Oxblood Red Stella Rolex, one of his favorites. Normally wearing it always helped improve his mood, no matter how bad it got, but right then, he was annoyed enough to throw the watch against the wall.

  Okay, then, at least two more weeks with no window. He couldn't just leave it a gaping hole, and plywood and other such things were right out because how would that appear to people looking to him for reliable supers insurance?

  Maybe it was time for a snack break. Abandoning his desk, Karl went to the little kitchen area in the back and pulled a crème soda out of the mini fridge. Then he busted out the box of emergency triple chocolate and caramel cookies.

  Dropping the delicious contraband on his desk, he went to flip the sign to 'out to lunch' and pulled the black curtain he'd put up across the window. It left him in semi-dark, the only light from the lamp on his desk and his computer screen. Given everyone else was still trying to fix their own shops, or not bothering to come until everything was fixed, there was relative quiet to go along with the semi-dark.

  Perfect for eating deliciously unhealthy snacks.

  Closing his laptop, he pulled out his ereader (that he usually left at home, but he was beyond caring today) and started reading. He was frequently distracted by the cookies, though, which merited full attention.

  "I never thought a cookie would make me feel inadequate, but I would remember if I'd made you moan like that."

  Karl jumped, tried to swallow and talk at the same time, and instead only wound up coughing so hard his eyes watered. Taking a swallow of crème soda when he could finally breathe properly again, he looked around, glaring at the entire room just for good measure. "Scaring me to death isn't nice."

  "Neither is lusting after a cookie, but you don't see me judging."

  "No, just complaining," Karl retorted—and shivered as warm lips suddenly pressed to the back of his neck.

  "I don't like being second place to cookies."

  Karl laughed. "You aren't second place, trust me. Cookies don't give blowjobs."

  The lips were replaced by teeth biting sharply, leaving a pleasant sting that did nothing to banish sudden thoughts of invisible men and blowjobs.

  He kept waiting for his own peculiar interests to bother him, but the only thing that really troubled him was the seriousness with which he was beginning to regard whatever it was he had with Trick. It seemed to be the sort of thing books called a torrid affair, though fling was probably more accurate. Did flings last for a month with no sign of stopping?

  He wasn't sure what he would do when Trick ended it. "Shouldn't you be off causing mayhem?"

  "Causing mayhem is a lot of hurry up and wait. Right now, we're on the wait." Karl was pulled completely out of his chair, dragged to the floor, and pinned there. He shivered, breath caught in his throat, as that hot, eager mouth resumed working. Teeth dragged along the length of it, lingering to nibble at his collarbone, aggravate a mark Trick had left there a couple of nights ago.

  His tie was slowly unknotted, dropped unceremoniously on the floor before deft fingers started on his clothes. Karl could feel but never see, unless he looked away and caught the barest flicker of movement at the corner of his eye. He groaned as his blazer and undershirt were opened, shoved out of the way, tanktop pushed up so Trick could drag his tongue across the marks he'd left on Karl's stomach.

  "I believe somebody said something about a blowjob?"

  Karl smiled up at the ceiling and tried to speak, but the sudden wash of cool air chased by a hot mouth caused his breath to hitch. When he could
speak again, all that came out was a garbled moan-demand-for-more.

  He held on as long as he could, tried to make it last, but Trick was very, very good at making him come apart.

  Soft fabric rubbed against his skin as Trick crawled up his body, and Karl could taste himself in Trick's mouth as they kissed. He closed his eyes, draped his arms around Trick's neck, and kissed him until his mouth was sore. "I've never had office sex before. I think I rather like it."

  "Neither have I." Trick pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. "I like it, too."

  Karl skated a hand down thin air until he felt the bulge of Trick's cock. "Speaking of, I believe someone is still wanting."

  "You know what I like," Trick said, tinny voice taking on a bit of husky growl.

  A small whimper might have escaped Karl. "I like what you like. Get to it, then, because my lunch break is almost over and I have to pick a fresh round of fights with the glass companies."

  "Lost battle, don't bother," Trick said.

  "What—"

  "Oh, no, fuck first, business later," Trick said and turned him over, dragged his pants down. "I hope you have lube because I wasn't smart enough to bring it."

  "Some super villain you are." Karl rose up on his knees, pulled open his bottom desk drawer, and opened the little wooden box where he'd taken to hiding lube on the slim hope Trick might show up to mess around in the office. He held it out and went with a faint oof as he was dragged back down to the carpet.

  Given the way Trick had fucked him just the other night, it didn't take much prep before Trick was pushing inside him, hands on his hips, pounding Karl like he really was watching the clock and only had a few minutes left to get the job done.

  And what a job well done it was.

  "This suit will never come clean," Karl said when he could function again, grimacing at the wrinkles and suspicious stains.

  Trick kissed him, fingers fluttering over his skin and clothes, tugging and petting. "Do you want me to go home and get you one?"

  "Cause a suit taking itself to the office wouldn't look strange at all."

  "I can do other things in small amounts," Trick said, then stopped, swore softly.

  Karl reached out, fumbled around until he found a hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it softly. "I know you don't have any real reason to believe me, but I won't tell anyone else what you tell me. I'll keep your secrets. Nobody talks to the insurance man unless they need money, anyway."

  "Really? 'Cause an awful lot of nobodies spend a heck of a lot of time staring at your ass."

  "They do not." Karl rolled his eyes and turned away. "And sweet though the offer is, I have a couple of spare suits here, though they were meant for when supers rain destruction down upon us, not hiding office sex. I prefer this reason, though."

  Trick laughed.

  Smiling, Karl went to change. When he emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, he'd expected Trick to be gone, but that flicker of light remained at the edge of his vision.

  "These cookies are almost as good as sex, oh, my god," Trick said.

  Karl lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Now who's being made to feel inadequate."

  Soft laughter filled the office. "I said almost."

  "Mm, hmm," Karl said, looking in the mirror he kept just outside the bathroom to fuss over his blue and brown tie one last time. He glanced at the time on his watch.

  "You're the only person I know who still wears watches," Trick said. "Do they do anything special?"

  Karl laughed and walked to the desk. "They tell time, that's it. They're all antique or vintage. I collect them." He ran his thumb over the band of his oxblood Rolex. "Don't have much else to spend money on, and there's a lot of it, even though I don't keep much. So I buy the watches. Some were gifts from my parents and grandfather."

  "None from lovers?"

  "No." Karl's smile faded. He opened his laptop and punched in the password. Sighed as his form with the numbers for the glass places came up, reminding him his first task was picking additional fights with all of them. "Back to work I go."

  "Wouldn't waste your time on them," Trick said quietly from behind him. Another cookie drifted through the air and started to vanish in quick, neat bites.

  Karl frowned. "Wait, yeah, you said something about that, um, earlier."

  "Yeah," Trick said. "Lost battle. All those glass companies have been ordered to work basically nonstop, around the clock to finish production on special panels and stuff needed by the Pantheon for their new headquarters."

  "What?" Karl stepped away from his desk before he gave into the urge to slam his laptop shut. "What are you talking about? The new headquarters wasn't approved. The city agreed to delay its construction by two years so the funds requested by G.O.D. could be put to other uses—mostly, repairing the damage all the stupid supers cause with their fighting!" He let out a huff. "Sorry. Present company excluded."

  "Oh, I don't deserve to be excluded, however hard I try not to cause problems for the civilians. You're right: More city money should go to helping citizens and less to the damned supers. The holy ones have been letting their name go to their heads for a long time. If you really need your window repaired, there's a little start up shop that does good work. They can't afford much in the way of marketing, and they don't much know how to market anyway, but they can make you a new window. Here—" A pen lifted from the holder at the front edge of Karl's desk, and the top drawer on the left side opened, a pad of pink sticky notes lifting to the desk. A name and number were swiftly jotted down in Trick's tidy hand. "I swear they're good and way more affordable."

  Karl smiled. "Thanks. I'll give them a ring. Sounds better than beating my head against a wall."

  Fingers fluttered against his lips, and then were replaced by Trick's mouth, warm and soft. Karl let his eyes slip shut, reached up to feel out Trick's hair, curl his fingers into it. One kiss turned into several, soft and lazy and sweet.

  They made it so easy to forget this was only a fling, a super villain messing around with a civilian who had a particular kink that fit nicely with Trick's kink.

  When he finally pulled back, Karl couldn't at first remember how to speak. He was normally content to leave Trick to his mysteries, but right then, he would have given anything to see the look on Trick's face, if there was any chance at all that whatever was building inside of Karl was there in Trick, too.

  But he knew better than to screw up a good thing by asking stupid questions. "Try not to rile the Pantheon up too much. I think they're out for your blood these days."

  "Oh, they are," Trick said and captured Karl's hand, pressed a kiss to his fingers. "But they're not going to get it. Be careful. I'll see you later."

  "You be careful," Karl said.

  With a soft laugh and a last whispering touch, Trick of the Light was gone.

  Karl swallowed and finally went to go pull back the curtains and flip the sign to open. Maybe he'd go down the street and get a macchiato to get him through the afternoon. First, phone call. He had to get some work done or he'd feel bad about using the office for nothing but sex.

  On second thought, nope, he wasn't going to feel bad about that. He should probably still do some work. He turned and headed for his desk, sat down, and with a long sigh, settled back into the rhythm of the day-to-day.

  By the time he stopped, dusk was falling and only the quiet of end of day filtered through his open door and window. He shut down his computer, made a few notes for the next day, then stood and stretched, groans filling the empty office.

  He jumped and maybe screamed a little when his office phone rang. Picking it up, he said, "Akerman Insurance. I'm sorry but the office is closed—"

  "Oh, my god! Oh, my god!" Theresa, owner of the junk shop across the street, shrieked in his ear. "Turn on the TV, oh, my god. You've gotta see it if you haven't already!"

  "I'll go check it out at the coffee shop, thanks," Karl replied and hung up before she kept going. Pulling on his blazer, stowing his laptop
and slinging the bag over his shoulder, he secured the office (as best he could) and headed down the street to the coffee shop. "Hey, Marianna, Terri just called to screech in my…"

  He trailed off as his eyes landed on the TV, where the news was breathlessly recounting and replaying the destruction of the new G.O.D. headquarters. Which were much further along than anyone had realized because apparently the project had been hidden from sight the whole time.

  Stupid Pantheon. They were supposed to be the good ones. Why did so many people seem so oblivious to the fact they weren't? It didn't make any sense. Super heroes caused more damage by far than the villains, but they were basically praised for it every single time. Now they were spending funds they weren't even supposed to have to build a headquarters not approved for building yet. It made Karl almost mad enough to cuss.

  "It's terrible," Marianna said, sniffling. "The Prince himself was just on explaining all the private funds and donations that had been given for the project, all the plans for it, the way they were going to use it to better protect us. Less damage, more preventative measures. It was almost done, and then those wretched villains come along and destroy it all. Why can't they just go away and let people live peacefully?"

  Because there wasn't much profit in peace, and everybody enjoyed the money made on the chaos. Karl didn't bother voicing that opinion though; he'd tried before and only gotten screamed at for his effort. "Do they know which villains did it?"

  "Not entirely sure, but they've mentioned Trick of the Light and someone called Turncoat? I've heard that name before, but I don't remember much. Only that he works a different city, but maybe I'm remembering wrong?"

  "He doesn't really work anywhere. That's the reason they never come close to catching him," Karl said. "He pops up all over the place."

  Turncoat was bad news. Someone who'd once worked for the G.O.D. but had at some point betrayed them. Not much was known about the matter, only that he'd murdered his way out of the complex he'd worked at before going underground. Only three people were marked at priority level zero on the G.O.D. most wanted list: