Blaze of Heroes

by C. J. Strange

  Fuck, she's so ready for me…

  She's tight. I have to flex my fingers to test her, and she moans, reaching to claw helplessly at my wrist. I smirk at her, grinding my own body down to pin her hips harder to the lawn.

  “You feel so fucking good, Pen',” I say and love the way her muscles tighten around my fingers. Our captain likes praise, apparently. “You like that? You like when I tell you how bloody hot you are?”

  Penny's full lips part, her eyes unfocused as I slide my fingers deeper, but no noise comes out. I tease her for long moments, her hips arching up to meet my hand with each shallow thrust of my fingers inside of her. Right when it seems she's getting used to the rhythm, my thumb runs up from where my fingers are buried in her, up to the swollen bud of her clit.

  The sound she makes sets my nerves ablaze. Her whole body clenches down as she shudders and trembles through what looks like an intense orgasm. I'm so hard in my boxers that I can't do anything but free my cock and wrap my fingers, still wet from being inside her, around my length. I pump myself once, twice, and slide between her thighs.

  Again, with no warning. But if she says she can keep up, I'm going to test that brag.

  My captain's arms wrap around my neck. She kisses me deeply as I thrust into her. I catch her gasp against my lips, and deep inside I'm smug that my cock is apparently bigger than she was clearly expecting. The rest of me is just focused on how tight she is, how her warmth is like a match made for mine. She's all slick heat around me and I groan, trying not to blow my load right away.

  Last thing I need right now is her running off to Duncan, telling that Wall-jumping wanker that I came so quick. Bastard would never let me live that one down.

  I bury my face in the side of her neck, seeking out sensitive spots along her skin as I start thrusting hard and fast. Her thighs lift up, wrapping round my waist, and I have no idea why I couldn't get it together to give this to her before. Why did I wait so fucking long? Fuck Hawkeye. This girl is worth a million ruined Marvel collectibles, even the good ones.

  Penny moans darkly and tugs at my short hair.

  “Your breath,” she whines, “it's burning my bloody skin.”

  I pull back, licking my lips, a smirk all over my face.

  “You don't like it hot?” I grunt hoarsely between thrusts, my words stuttering a little. She squirms and groans, reaching down between us. My eyes follow her fingers, and I let out strangled noise when I see her touch her clit, sliding the underside of her fingers through her folds.

  Fuck me, that's hot.

  She's arching up into me, meeting me thrust for thrust, the flex of her muscles under her abdomen, and inside of her, bringing me closer. When her fingers brush against the base of my cock, then circle it in a hard grip, I cry out, my back going tight.

  The urge to come overwhelms me, and I grab her wrist in one of my hands, pinning her fingers down against her clit so she can't tease my cock. She whines at me, but I just fuck her harder, my other hand braced on the ground beside her head.

  The world around us has gone dark, and a breeze rushes over my exposed skin. It would cool me if I weren't burning up with my Magick. A crackle of thunder echoes above us, making Penny flinch, and then the heavens open up with even heavier rain. It splatters across our bodies, and I growl, curling over her to hide her from the onslaught. The cold and wet only spurs me on, like tiny bullets punching pin-pricks of pain into my sizzling skin. My whole being feels like it's pushing to escape my skin, merge with her in the most intimate way anyone could.

  I'm watching her face, the way she bites her lip for a second, and I know she's so close.

  “Come all around me,” I order, and for a moment she looks like she's going to defy me just to stick it to me. Cut off her nose to spite her gorgeous face. Then she shudders, her fingers touching me again, her knuckles brushing against the tight muscles right above my cock, and she cries out, long and loud.

  The rain is pounding down, striking my skin, beyond painful as it boils away when it hits my back. But it's nothing compared to how the tight feeling inside me explodes outwards as I come. Hard. The sight of her shaking under me is too much, and I hang onto her tight, my hips pressing her down hard into the ground, trying to hang onto that feeling of emptying myself inside of her, forever.

  It doesn't last though, seeping away from me despite how close I am to her, how warm she is around me. Something inside me twists, and I pull back, bringing her with me, holding her tight to my body. Her fingers wrap loose around my waist, she's breathing hard and exhausted. A thrill of pride sounds off in my chest.

  “Holy fuck,” she whispers as I slip from her clutching, crushing heat. I kneel between her thighs and hold onto her tight. I never want this moment to end. Ever. Never mind the rain splattering my face, or soaking into my hair. I reach down, my fingers trembling as I wrap them under her chin to pull her up to look at me. Her eyes are liquid, satisfaction in the way she gives me a quirky little smile.

  I kiss her then. There's nothing else in the world I want to do more. This is where I want to be.

  Always have, always will.

  12 Oliver's Re-Education

  The convoy is on the move, people. The mission is officially a-go.

  Almost one hundred and fifty Anomalies (sixty-three of whom are children under the legal age of sixteen) are being escorted across Kent by Elder Beaumont, six of the Sun Mother's finest warriors, and Britain's only organized brigade of freedom fighters.

  The majority have been traveling by foot for two hours with minimal breaks, first across overgrown open fields before meeting up with the shoreline to follow it. A pair of old pickup trucks allow folk, mostly younger kids and the elderly, to rest most of the way. In another three, they'll be able to stop for the night.

  We split off from Duncan, Rhys, and the camper van in the town of Rye (which marks the eastern outer limit of the Southern Fringe), after stopping in Hastings. The Anomaly sanctuary offered us the opportunity to restock some of our supplies—most importantly, petrol. All the additional weight in the vehicles hasn't been kind to our carbon footprint.

  “Can you imagine,” I'm saying to Juniper and Penny, a bit breathless as we huff along in front of one of the trucks, “the thousands of refugees who brave thousands of miles of desert and mountain to escape an even worse existence than ours?”

  “Puts our problems in perspective, at least,” answers Penny mildly. She sounds considerably less out of breath than I do. “Although I'd warn against comparing our problems to other people's. One man's storm, and all that.”

  “Refugees?” asks Juniper curiously.

  I nod. “Traveling between other countries. They don't talk about global issues on the telly here at all. Ever. I honestly think they're just trying to drive home their message that Britain is apparently the center of the universe. But if you know how to access the FreeNet, you can unleash a whole wealth of knowledge no one wants you to have.”

  Juniper grins mischievously. “That sounds fun.”

  “Of course, you have to watch out for the things they do want you to find,” grumbles Penny out of the corner of her mouth. She's not only referencing several close calls she's had in the past, following through with baited tips that turned out to be traps. We have a more current and pressing problem.

  “I don't know how they found out,” I mumble in disbelief.

  “They're the Sovereignty,” our captain answers bitterly. “They always find out.”

  “Why would they ever want to stop Anomalies from leaving the country, though?” asks Juniper, her words strained with bewilderment. “Surely, the less tainted blood there is on this island, the better things are for them?”

  Penny's hand shoots out and snatches the sleeve of my coat. My heart jumps into my throat, nerves alight with a possible development to the stalemate our relationship has found itself stuck at for five months now…

  But my body assesses the situation and levels it a false alarm when she yanks me sideways, savi
ng me from a pothole that would have most definitely twisted my ankle or worse.

  Hey, that's, that's good. She still cares about you. That means she doesn't think you're a complete lost cause.

  I don't know if I have a right to complain about said stalemate. Especially because it's about ninety-eight per cent my fault. They always say you don't know what you've got until it's gone, and frankly, the idea that I may have missed the boat at taking my chance with Penny is something that legitimately keeps me up at night.

  Dicks before chicks, I remind myself, with a heavy albeit silent sigh. I often wonder if my friendship with Alfie is even a friendship at all. But I suppose he's one of the closest things to a friend I've got...

  “Control,” Penny is saying as we continue to trudge the coastline, entirely unaware of my current levels of mental anguish. “Concealment. When boatloads of British Anomalies are smuggled into France, there's a chance some of them will talk to the authorities there, especially if they're apprehended. I would imagine global perspective of how Britain treats its Anomalies is something the Sovereignty wants to keep a tight grip on.”

  She sighs, and stares ahead. “All right, this is our turn-off coming up on the left. I'll to ring the lads, find out where they're going to want us.”

  The captain pulls out her mobile, and starts jogging ahead of us. Juniper cranes her neck toward me, concern alive in her deep, dark eyes. “How much of a worry is it for us? The government intervening?”

  “Tonight won't be an issue,” I assure her. “That's why our lads went ahead.” With Duncan's speed and strength, and Rhys' ridiculous luck, they seemed the perfect pair to send along with two Novanites by the names of Leon and Spectre in the brigade's camper van. Their mission is simple, to scout the area around Dungeness and locate a safe, strategic spot for us to all make camp. “Once we head off tomorrow, things might go a little haywire.”

  I offer her a smile. “As counterintuitive as it may seem, I've found flying by the seat of my pants in those situations a fairly rewarding option.”

  “Ah, spoken like a true child of Nova—!”

  The jubilant voice doesn't fill me with the same joy as its owner. I do my best to be polite, I always do. But every single introvert has a series of lines and boundaries. And in the eighteen hours he's known me, Elder Beaumont has managed to obliviously cross at least half of them.

  “While our way of life may be far from the ways of complete chaos and destruction,” the enthusiastic old priest exclaims as he catches up to us from behind, panting for breath and leaving me wondering where the bloody hell he came from, “any Novanite worth his salt and fire can appreciate the value of spontaneity!”

  Line One: I need my quiet, my downtime, my privacy.

  “Elder Beaumont,” says Juniper, a perfect buffer, “you shouldn't be walking such a distance! Is there not room in either vehicle for you?”

  “I'm afraid not, my dear. I gave my spot up for an exhausted young woman I discovered to be three months along.” Beaumont mops his brow with a purple handkerchief. “This is a meagre distance, compared to that which many ancestors of ours have traversed. Exposure to the elements is a marvellous test of our mettle this Vetrnætr. I would feel unworthy to partake, had I not at least tread ground some of the way.”

  Juniper and I exchange awkward glances as we realize we likely won't be getting rid of him for a while.

  “Those who are meeting us tomorrow in Dungeness,” Juniper starts, trying to keep the conversation away from everything that was discussed last night. For my benefit, and sanity. “They're Anomalies too?”

  “From France, yes. A pride of Nova in Boulogne-sur-Mer.” The elder waves one baggy sleeve dismissively. The light jangle of the intricately-embroidered and -beaded gold trim is hypnotic to say the least. “Wonderful people, truly wonderful. Those who have put their lives in our hands, and thusly in the hands of the Sun Mother, will benefit greatly from this journey we are sending them on. There truly is a happier existence for them out there, if they are only bold enough to take it.

  “The same goes for you, OP, my boy,” he rambles on, at an uneven and jilted cadence that makes my ears wish they could scream to shield themselves from the noise. “It took me nigh an hour last night to draw out of you the secret of your hidden talents, the shifting ability you've barely begun to scratch the surface of.” He tsks, wagging a finger at me, and all of a sudden it's like I'm seven or eight years old again.

  “An hour, my boy! An hour we could've spent exploring the depths of the Sun Mother's possibilities for you. Why shifters, in Novanism, are akin to the lords and ladies of our society. True noble warriors. There is little more connected to nature than the primal instinct of one of its true children.”

  I slide my eyes discreetly over to Juniper. She stifles a giggle; she's fully aware how too much of this religious stuff unsettles me. I had to divulge the full run-down after last night's fiasco, which we both tried to escape from four or five times to no avail.

  “But that would be more advanced Novanism, my child,” Beaumont continues. I've kind of gotten the picture that he's one of those people who loves the sound of his own voice, or believes others do. “And from what we've already learned, we need to start you off with the basics, my boy.”

  Line Two: Don't force your hobbies, habits, beliefs, or religions on me. With the prettiest of pleases.

  Sensing my silent distress, Juniper jumps in once more. “Oh, I can go over the basics with him, Elder,” she says sweetly. “You shouldn't be troubling yourself with that.”

  “Novanism,” Beaumont announces anyway with pride (no pun intended, I promise), “is founded on the Tenets of the Sun Mother, and enforced by the five key elements granted to us by the sun itself.”

  Here we go, I groan inwardly. I never thought I'd have to endure something more painful than this walk…

  “Fire, wind, earth, water, and spirit,” he continues, counting them off on the stubby fingers of one hand. “The five elements from which all Magick, matter, and life is made possible.”

  While I'm a boy of science, and the periodic table of elements may have a couple of problems with his theory, I say nothing of it. It's not my place to police his beliefs, or judge him for them. In fact, it probably wouldn't kill me to keep more of an open mind.

  “And the tenets?” I ask, my own version of throwing caution to the wind.

  Line Three: Please don't require participation on my account.

  “The Six Tenets!” Beaumont is far too riled up, and it's doing nothing for his cardio. Or lack thereof. “Principles by which we live our lives, to ensure our lives are lived in a manner befitting of our goddess and her teachings.”

  “Got a pen?” teases Juniper.

  Beaumont chuckles, pushing his rimless glasses up his nose. “Now don't be flippant, young one. They aren't all that hard to remember.”

  “I've a fairly sharp memory,” I chime in politely. I may be uncomfortable, but I've decided to channel my inner Rhys, if I were to have one. He's always smooth and genial, no matter how awkward the situation. “I'll give it a whirl.”

  “I knew you would, my boy.” The Elder jabs one finger into the air. “First things first, you must always Keep Your Heart Ardent. This is the most important tenet of all of Novanism, my child. Whatever your passion is, your fire? You must keep it blazing!”

  “I'm a big fan of double entendres,” I comment offhandedly, but Beaumont is already rattling off the next tenets.

  “Secondly, it is vital that you Keep Your Time Sacred. Third, you must Keep Your Mind Open.” All three clammy fingers that are now extended reach out to press against my temple, and I do everything I can not to writhe away from them.

  Line Four: Please, just… never, ever, ever, ever touch me. Ever.

  The Elder's fingers stick to my skin, digging hard into my the soft part of my skull. Our gaits do their best to align as I'm drawn closer to him, almost entirely into his robes. The skin beneath his fingertips begins to hurt. But
it isn't a burn, nor a stabbing pain-in fact, I'm having a difficult time describing what I can only liken to how acid might feel, but I have no basis for comparison. Beaumont tugs me in closer still as the acidic ooze, a thick bubbling blackness, seems to cloud my head, making it difficult to form any lucid thought.

  If this Sun Mother everybody keeps banging on about does actually love me, she has a funny way of showing it.

  At long last, Beaumont's hand drops to my shoulder. Blessed relief, but his possessive arm keeps me half-wrapped in his robes. Physical contact is not a personal hobby of mine, especially with folk I don't feel comfortable around.

  “Fourth, Keep Your Body Ripe—”

  Thrown off-step, I find myself fully reliant on him to hold me upright. The thick black ooze muffles my vision, suffocating my senses one at a time. My knees buckle beneath me. My feet have a mind of their own. Wha-what…?

  Now aware of my abject horror, Juniper steps in to say something. But a familiar voice has already cut the preacher off at what I presume is the end of that specific principle.

  “Oi, oi! Watcha, gals and geeks—!”

  Alfie inserts himself rather pointedly between myself and Elder Beaumont, cutting right through our physical connection so he can force me forward a few steps in his own clutches. My weight is transferred from Beaumont to my brigade mate, my hands clawing at the toned forearms pinning me to his chest. My stumbling feet catch themselves and, almost immediately, the fog begins to lift.

  While Alfie's actions without my apparent consent may appear aggressive, my gratitude runs deep. He has a fantastic radar for detecting when I need to be rescued from an encounter.