Fucking Go Go

"Fast," Go Go begged, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into the black coat. Her hips were grinding against mine, seeking friction, seeking a release for the adrenaline that the fight had pumped into her bloodstream. "Just do it! I need to crash!"

"No," I growled, pinning her harder against the rough brick chimney. "You need to learn to idle."

I reached down and grabbed the waistband of her leather shorts.

I didn't rip them off. I undid the button. Click.

Then the zipper. Zzzzzzp.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Go Go whined, a frustrated, angry sound in her throat. She tried to shove her pants down herself, but I caught her hands and pinned them above her head against the brick.

"I said slow."

I peeled the leather down her athletic thighs. She was shaking, vibrating like a hummingbird engine. Her legs were muscular, defined by years of skating and sprinting. She wasn't wearing practical cotton like Cass or silky lace like Honey Lemon. She was wearing black, sporty mesh. Functional. Tight.

"You're killing me," she hissed, her chest heaving against mine. "This is ****."

"This is discipline."

I hooked my fingers into the mesh. I didn't pull it down. I just rested my hand there, feeling the heat radiating from her core.

"You're always moving, Go Go. Always rushing to the next finish line. But right now? You're going nowhere."

I leaned down and kissed her neck. I didn't bite immediately. I licked the pulse point, feeling her heart hammering against her skin like a trapped bird.

"Look at you," I whispered against her ear. "You're wet. You're leaking through the mesh. You want this so bad you're shaking."

"I hate you," she breathed, her head falling back, exposing her throat. "I hate how... big you are."

"Liar."

I ripped the mesh.

TEAR.

Go Go gasped as the fabric gave way. I didn't bother taking her panties off. I wanted access, not nudity. I just spread the torn black edges to look at the prize.

For all her toughness and attitude, she was pristine down here. Her pussy was small and smooth, completely hairless and aerodynamic, a pale, perfect slit nestled between her muscular thighs. The pink lips were swollen, puffing out slightly from the heat, and coated in a thick, glistening sheen of arousal that caught the moonlight.

I reached between her legs. She was soaking wet. The friction of the stiff leather against her skin during the fight had primed her better than any foreplay.

I slid one finger inside.

She clamped down instantly. Her internal muscles were just as strong as her external ones.

"Too slow!" she complained, bucking her hips, trying to **** my hand deeper.

"Still trying to lead," I scolded.

I withdrew my hand.

I unzipped.

When I released my cock, Go Go’s eyes snapped down. She saw the weapon that had broken Cass. She didn't look scared. She looked challenged. She looked like she was staring down a track she wasn't sure she could finish.

I lifted her up.

She wrapped her bare legs around my waist, her heels digging into my kidneys.

I positioned myself at her entrance.

"This is going to hurt," I warned her, looking into her dark, defiant eyes. "I'm too big for you, and I'm not going to be gentle."

"Just... drive," she dared me.

I drove.

I didn't ease in. I slammed forward.

SCHLICK.

"NGH!"

Go Go screamed, biting her own lip to stifle the sound. Her head slammed back against the brick. Her body went rigid as I stretched her beyond her capacity.

I filled her completely, the invasion total.

"Breathe," I commanded, holding her there, impaled against the chimney.

"I... can't..." she wheezed, her nails clawing at my back. "You're... splitting me..."

"Adjust."

I began to move.

It wasn't the frantic, high-speed rhythm she was used to. It was a slow, grinding piston motion. I withdrew almost all the way, letting her feel the emptiness, then drove back in, hitting her cervix with a dull thud.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Every stroke was a heavy impact. I was rearranging her insides, forcing her to feel every inch of girth, every second of friction.

"Faster!" she pleaded, tears of frustration and pleasure pricking her eyes. "Please, Ray! Faster!"

"Not yet."

I ground my thumb against her clit while I fucked her slow.

The dual sensation drove her insane. She started sobbing, her tough-girl persona cracking wide open.

"It's too much... it's too much pressure!"

"Take it."

I kept the pace agonizingly slow. I made her earn every inch. I watched her face crumble from defiance to desperation. I watched the speedster break down in a stall.

"Who controls the pace?" I growled, biting her neck, leaving a mark right above her collarbone.

"You do!" she screamed, abandoning her pride. "You do! You're the driver!"

"Good girl."

I decided to give her what she wanted.

I shifted my grip on her hips, digging my fingers into her bruised flesh.

"Now we race."

I accelerated.

I unleashed the beast. I pounded into her with ruthless speed, matching her frantic energy. The sound of wet flesh slapping against flesh echoed on the rooftop. Go Go moaned, a long, continuous sound of pure ecstasy. She met me thrust for thrust, her athleticism finally finding an outlet that could match her endurance.

"Yes! Yes! Harder!" she yelled, forgetting about stealth, forgetting about the team downstairs.

We hit the finish line together.

I drove deep and held her there, grinding my pelvis against hers.

I fired.

I flooded her womb with a massive, magical load. Go Go convulsed, her legs tightening around me like a vice, milking me dry, her head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream of release.

She crashed.

Her body went limp in my arms. Her head fell onto my shoulder. She was panting, sweat dripping from her nose, her heart rate slowly coming down from the redline.

I held her there against the wall for a long minute, letting the cool San Fransokyo air dry our sweat.

Finally, I pulled out.

Go Go slid down my body, her legs wobbling as they hit the gravel roof. She leaned against the chimney for support, looking thoroughly wrecked. Her leather jacket was open, her shorts were unbuttoned, and her mesh panties were torn.

She looked up at me. Her eyes were hazy, her gum forgotten.

"Wow," she whispered, wiping her mouth. "That was... a crash."

"You survived," I said, buttoning my trousers. "Barely."

I reached out and smoothed her sweaty bangs back.

"Go clean up, speedster. We have a city to save tomorrow."

She nodded, too exhausted to argue. She looked at me with a mix of awe and submission. I had slowed her down, broken her speed limit, and left her stalling in the dust.

I turned and walked back to the roof access door.

I walked back down the stairs, leaving the cool night air and the conquered speedster on the roof. The café was quiet, but not empty. The "heroes" hadn’t crashed yet; they were scattered around the main floor, riding the post-adrenaline high. Hiro was tinkering with Baymax’s arm at a table, Wasabi was nervously organizing the condiment station, and Fred was sprawled on a beanbag, rambling about comic book tropes.

Honey Lemon was the only one who really looked at me. She was sitting at the high top, tapping on her tablet. When I walked past, she paused. Her nose twitched. She smelled it, the sharp, musky scent of sex that clung to my coat. It was different from hers; it was sweatier, darker, smelling of leather. She looked from the stairs to me, and her eyes widened. She knew exactly who I had been with. She didn't look jealous; she looked validated. The Alpha was feeding, and the pack was falling into line. She offered me a small, conspiratorial smile before looking back at her screen.

I walked past her into the open kitchen. The layout was dangerous, a waist-high counter was the only thing separating the food prep area from the main floor where the kids were hanging out.

Aunt Cass was there, her back to the room, furiously kneading dough for the morning rush. She was humming a soft tune, trying to normalize the chaos of the night through baking.

When I walked in, she stopped. She sensed me before she saw me. She turned around, wiping flour from her hands onto her apron. Her hair was messy, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the ovens. When she saw the look in my eyes - sated, heavy-lidded, but still dangerous - she melted.

She walked over to me, forgetting for a split second that her nephew was twenty feet away. She stood on her tiptoes, leaning in to press a sweet, lingering kiss to my cheek.

"You're back," she whispered, her eyes shining. "I was worried."

I didn't kiss her back. I caught her wrist.

"Careful, Cass," I murmured, nodding my head toward the room.

She froze, her eyes darting past my shoulder to see Hiro and Fred arguing about super-suits. She gasped, realizing how close she had come to exposing us, and quickly lowered herself, her face turning crimson.

"I... I just..." she stammered, stepping back to the dough.

"Keep working," I ordered softly. "Don't stop."

I didn't leave the kitchen. I leaned against the prep counter, facing the room, acting as a shield between Cass and the team.

"So," I called out to the group, crossing my arms. "Did we figure out the portal coordinates?"

"Working on it!" Hiro shouted back, not looking up. "The energy signature is tricky!"

While I talked, I reached behind me.

Cass was kneading the dough, her hips swaying. I slipped my hand under her apron. Then under her skirt.

She stiffened, her breath hitching audibly.

"Ray..." she whimpered, "they're right there..."

"I know," I whispered, keeping my eyes fixed on Fred. "So be quiet."

I found her panties. They were damp. I pulled them aside and slid my hand between her legs.

Cass nearly collapsed. She had to grip the edge of the counter to stay upright. I found her clit and rubbed it hard, stealing a gasp from her that she disguised as a cough.

"You okay, Aunt Cass?" Wasabi asked, looking over.

"Fine!" she squeaked, her voice an octave too high. "Just... flour dust! Throat's dry!"

I smirked at Wasabi. "She's working hard, Wasabi. Leave her be."

I pushed two fingers inside her. She was hot, wet, and incredibly tight. I began to pump her, setting a rhythm that matched the kneading of her dough.

Squish. Squish.

The sound of her pussy was masked by the sound of the dough hitting the table. It was perfect.

Cass was biting her lip so hard it was turning white. Her eyes were rolled back, her hands mechanically working the bread while I worked her from behind. She was terrified of being caught, and that fear was making her clamp down on my fingers with crushing ****.

"Ray," she breathed, "I'm close... please..."

"Not yet."

I withdrew my hand.

"Drop," I commanded.

She looked at me, confused and hazy.

"Under the counter," I whispered. "Now."

Cass looked at the kids. They were distracted. She looked at me. She sank to her knees, vanishing from the view of the room. To anyone looking, it just seemed like she was getting something from a low shelf.

I unzipped my fly.

My cock sprang free. It wasn't clean. It was still slick with Go Go's pussy juices, a cocktail of sweat and arousal.

Cass saw it. She smelled it. The scent of another woman on her owner.

She didn't recoil. She grabbed it.

She took me into her mouth. She tasted the musk, the salt, and the proof of my conquest on the roof. It degraded her, reduced her to just another mouth in the harem, and she loved it. She sucked greedily, cleaning me off, her tongue swirling around the head.

"Hey Ray!" Fred called out, standing up and walking toward the counter. "I was thinking, for the sequel, we need code names! What do you think of 'Captain Crush'?"

My heart rate didn't even jump. I stood there, looking casual, while Cass bobbed her head frantically between my legs.

"Captain Crush is a soda, Fred," I said dryly, resting my hand on the counter, directly above Cass’s head. "Try again."

Fred leaned on the other side of the counter, mere inches from where Cass was hidden.

"Okay, okay... how about 'The Annihilator'?"

Beneath us, Cass was losing her mind. The thrill of having Fred right there, talking to me while she serviced me, was too much.

I looked down. I saw her hand slide into her own skirt.

She began to finger herself while she sucked me.

She was going at it hard, her eyes squeezed shut, tears of pure overstimulation leaking out. She gagged on my cock, using the depth to stifle her own moans.

"Too aggressive," I told Fred, looking him in the eye while I bucked my hips into his friend’s aunt. "You want something that inspires hope, not fear."

"Right, right... hope," Fred mused, oblivious to the wet, slurping sounds coming from below the granite slab.

Cass was shaking. She was vibrating against my legs. She was rubbing her clit furiously, needing to finish before she was discovered.

I reached down blindly and grabbed her hair, forcing her deeper.

She took it. She took all of it.

And then she broke.

She **** my cock all the way down her throat, her nose crushing on my pubic bone, to muffle the scream as she climaxed. Her body spasmed, her pussy throbbing against her hand, her throat tightening around my cock.

The suction was incredible.

I groaned, covering it as a clear of my throat.

"Excuse me," I said to Fred. "Dusty in here."

I fired.

I unloaded thick, heavy ropes down her throat. She swallowed them convulsively, cleaning me dry, drinking every drop of her reward.

She slumped against the cabinet, breathless, messy, and hidden.

I zipped up.

"Think about the names, Fred," I said, pushing off the counter. "I'm going to check the perimeter."