Flash Fire

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  This story is for those who never considered themselves extraordinary.

  Trust me, you are.

  FLASH FIRE

  A swift, severe fire caused by a mixture of air and a flammable substance.

  Fic: A Pleasure to Burn

  Author: PyroStormIsBae

  Chapter 36 of?

  137,467 words

  Pairing: Pyro Storm/Original Male Character

  Rated: R (Rating is finally going up!)

  Tags: True Love, Pining, Gentle Pyro Storm, Happy Ending, First Kiss, More Than First Kiss, Fluffy Like a Cloud, So Much Violence, Evil Shadow Star, Bakery AU, Private Investigator, Anti-Rebecca Firestone, Hands Going Under Clothes,!!!, Naked Party and You’re All Invited

  Chapter 36: Burn Me Up

  Author Note: Yes, finally an update! Sorry it’s taken so long. I got busy with the holidays and my amazing boyfriend, who is pretty much the best person in the entire world. And then school started up again. But I promise this won’t be abandoned. Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter! I read all of them. (Even the bad ones. Question: Why do you do that? What’s the point of leaving mean comments? Let me live, damn.) Things are heating up for our heroes—in more ways than one!—and I’m finally giving you a point of view from Pyro Storm like a bunch of you asked for! Thank you to my BF, who beta read this for me (even if he told me it wasn’t physically possible for Pyro Storm to have an eight-pack). Thanks!!!

  Pyro Storm sat perched on the edge of the building, surveying the city stretched out before him. He knew its diseased heart, the curdled blood that ran through its dark veins. He loved this city, his mistress. He would do anything for it.

  Almost anything.

  He didn’t look back when the door to the roof opened behind him. He knew who it was.

  “Pyro Storm,” a deep, sexy voice said. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

  “Nash,” Pyro Storm growled seductively. When he’d stumbled into Nash Bellin’s bakery-slash-private-investigator agency months before, injured and dazed, he’d only been looking for help to stop a group of master thieves threatening their fair city. He hadn’t known then that Nash would be the biggest thief of all.

  Because he’d stolen Pyro Storm’s heart.

  “What are you doing up here?” Nash asked.

  “Watching,” Pyro Storm said. “Waiting.” The lights from the city below him stretched out as far as he could see.

  “For what?”

  Pyro Storm shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Because I’m not an Extraordinary,” Nash said bitterly.

  Pyro Storm whirled around, hands curling into fists as he jumped off the ledge onto the roof. “No,” he snarled. “It has nothing to do with that. You don’t need to be an Extraordinary. You’re already a world-famous baker-slash–private investigator. You do enough, Nash.”

  Nash looked away, throat working. “Then why won’t you talk to me? I tell you how I feel about you, that I lo—”

  “Don’t,” Pyro Storm whispered hoarsely. He didn’t deserve to hear such sweet words. Ever since he was a child, born in fire, he’d been a loner. To form relationships meant to make targets of those he cared about. It had happened before. Once, he’d let someone in to see the person behind the mask. It had ended in tragedy. The first man he’d ever loved, Jacoby Middleton, had been taken too soon by the machinations of evil.

  As always, Nash knew what he was thinking. “This is about Jacoby, isn’t it?”

  Pyro Storm turned back toward the edge of the roof. He stared stoically into nothing. Don’t let him see you hurting, he thought. Don’t let him see how much you care.

  “I’m not him,” Nash said. He sounded as if he’d moved closer. “I’m sorry you lost him when he turned out to be the villain called Smasher Man, who smashed everything in sight, including orphans on field trips. You had no way of knowing.”

  “I was blinded by my feelings,” Pyro Storm said roughly. “I can’t let it happen again.” He shuddered when Nash’s hand fell on his costumed shoulder.

  “I’m not evil,” Nash whispered, and Pyro Storm had to force himself not to ravage him right then and there. “I won’t turn out to be a super villain. All I want to do is bake scones, solve crimes, and—and love you.”

  There it was, out in the open, with no way to take it back.

  Pyro Storm was strong and brave and kind and very attractive. But even he couldn’t stand against true love. It was too big a foe. He’d already lost.

  He turned and stared into Nash’s bright, beautiful eyes.

  “Nash,” he said, pulling him close. “This is dangerous.”

  “Danger is my middle name,” Nash said, because it was true. Nash Danger Bellin. It was a family name. “I can handle you.” His hands went to Pyro Storm’s strongly muscled chest, sliding down slowly to his almost-eight-pack. “All of you.” His hands went lower. And lower. And …

  Pyro Storm kissed him—he had no other choice. Nash grunted as Pyro Storm licked into his mouth. They were finally about to become one. Pyro Storm felt Nash’s many muscles in his arms and chest and marveled at how strong he was. Nash worked out a lot, and it showed.

  “I want you to give it to me,” Nash panted. “Right here on the roof. You aren’t my first, but I want you to be my last. Show me how an Extraordinary does the do.”

  Pyro Storm felt like he was burning up from the inside out. He stepped back from Nash. He began to strip slowly, unfastening his cape and letting it fall to the roof. He then bent over, sliding off his boots. The rest of the costume followed. He was about to take off his mask when Nash breathed, “Leave it on. I like it.”

  And then he had an arm full of Nash Danger Bellin, and they rubbed their groins together hotly.

  To be continued …

  Comments:

  ImSoExtra(ordinaries) 13:45: IHKJREITHJ!!!! THIS IS FIRE. OMF GOD. THEY ARE GOING TO HAVE SEX ON A ROOF IN THE DARK. YES. YES. YES. PLEASE UPDATE NOW!!!!!!!

  LetPyroStormSmash 14:04: I made an account just to tell you I love this story so much and to make a request! Can Pyro Storm dump Nash and get back with Smasher Man? Even though he’s mentioned in this chapter for the first time, Smasher Man is already more interesting than Nash. Love the rest! (Except for Nash.)

  WTF6969 14:12: Why haven’t you mentioned the police in almost ten chapters, especially since Nash was working with them at the beginning? Please don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those social justice warriors.

  TacosAreFun 14:37: Ignore WTF6969. They’re commenting on every Extraordinary fic like this.

  ExtraExtra 15:17 In Chapter 17, you said Nash’s middle name was Rebel. Now it’s Danger? Also, why have
you never revealed who Pyro Storm’s identity is in this fic? He’s always wearing a mask, no matter what. And now they’re going to have sex while he’s wearing a mask? That’s creepy. Unless it’s a BDSM thing? If it is, you need to update your tags so people aren’t caught off guard.

  FireStoned 16:12 ANTI-REBECCA FIRESTONE IS THE MOST OFFENSIVE TAG ON THIS STUPID SITE. I AM REPORTING THIS FIC. YOU HAVE TRIGGERED ME BECAUSE I LOVE HER AND SHE IS THE BEST PERSON. HOW DARE YOU TRY AND MINIMIZE HER CONTRIBUTIONS. SHE SAVED THE CITY ALONG WITH PYRO STORM. REBECCA FIRESTONE FOR PRESIDENT. NOT EVERYTHING IS GAY!!!!!!

  SoundOfJazz 16:26 Hi! I found your story! Gibby says hello and that your story is filled with lies. Please don’t write about having sex because it’ll make us very uncomfortable. I love you!

  ReturnOfTheGray 17:15: PyroStormIsBae, no.

  1

  “Nicky, yes,” Seth Gray groaned, and Nick had never been prouder of himself in his entire life. Granted, he’d also never been more turned-on, and he couldn’t quite focus because all the blood had left his brain and traveled south, but still. Hearing his name come from Seth’s mouth in that way was apparently enough to fry all the remaining circuits in Nicholas Bell’s brain.

  Sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he shifted above Seth, who was lying on Nick’s bed. Seth’s glasses were crooked, his bow tie partially undone, his dark hair a mess of curls. His sweater was rucked-up, revealing a sliver of pale skin. Seth’s cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen since Nick had been attacking them for the last twenty minutes. Nick thought they’d gotten this making-out thing down pat.

  However, a conundrum now presented itself: stop while they still could, or keep on going into the strange, unknown land of Putting Hands Under Clothes for a Nice Time. They had the house to themselves; it was Saturday and Dad was out to lunch with the Chief of Police Rodney Caplan and Officer Rookie to talk shop. Nick wasn’t necessarily supposed to know what shop meant, but he wasn’t stupid, no matter the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, given certain … actions he might’ve taken last year (or, to be honest, all the other years of his life). He’d seen the posts on social media calling for reform and defunding, people marching in the streets demanding change, and though he’d always been proud of his father, valid concerns were being raised, and rightly so. Dad didn’t talk much about it—at least, with Nick—and neither did Cap or the Rook, no matter how he asked. This frustrated Nick to no end.

  Especially since he’d spent the morning with Dad, driving around in the new, unmarked SUV he had been given as part of his job as the lead in the newly formed Extraordinaries Division, listening to music on Nick’s phone he’d connected via Bluetooth when they ran errands. Talk about overkill. Nick treasured the time he had with his dad, but he was certainly capable of side-eyeing the fact that the seats were leather and heated, and for what? To keep Dad’s ass warm while he worked? Seemed like there were more important things to worry about.

  Speaking of Dad.

  He probably wouldn’t be back for hours, especially if they got a couple of beers into them. Seth had come over to help Nick with his homework (trigonometry again), and they’d promised to stay downstairs, Nick smiling innocently at his father, who had eyed them both up and down with a stern expression. Seth squeaked, as he was wont to do, his abilities to create fire out of nothing be damned.

  And they had meant to only do homework. Honest. Nick wasn’t failing or anything, but he had a test coming up that he wasn’t quite ready for, and he wanted to get as much done as he could, seeing as how it was Valentine’s Day and homework was in no way romantic in the slightest. They had plans later with their friends—a double date of sorts—and he’d decided to be responsible. Mature, even.

  The problem with that was, of course, Seth. Seth, whose brow had been furrowed as he’d looked down at the textbooks and papers spread out on the table. Seth, who’d been munching on pretzels while saying something about the sides and angles of triangles. Seth, who was quite possibly the hottest dude in existence, so much so that if Nick didn’t put his face on Seth’s face again in the next five minutes, he’d probably die.

  “Hey,” he’d said, interrupting what he was sure was the most boring explanation of mathematics in the history of the world. “Can I show you something in my room?”

  Seth had wiped the salt from his lips with the back of his hand. “What?”

  Nick had leaned forward, chin in his hands. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Surprise,” Seth had repeated. He’d sounded dubious, which, okay, yeah, sometimes Nick’s surprises, while well-intentioned, ended up exploding. Literally. But this was going to be a good surprise. With potentially good explosions.

  (And since he was always and forever a prude, he’d flushed at his own audacity.)

  But he wasn’t to be deterred. He’d stood from the table. “Come on. It won’t take long.” This wasn’t a lie. If it progressed further than it had before, it’d probably be over very quickly.

  “Your dad said we couldn’t go upstairs while he wasn’t here,” Seth had reminded him, as he’d stood too.

  This was true, yes. But when Nick had reminded Dad that a bedroom wasn’t necessary when it came to getting down to bidness (Nick’s words, which he’d immediately regretted), Dad said he was going to get plastic tarps to cover all the furniture so they didn’t leave boy stains. Nick, of course, had been sufficiently outraged.

  Dad had made things worse by taking out an empty spritz bottle from underneath the sink, filling it with water, and saying if it worked on dogs in heat, it’d work on boys as well. And then he’d sprayed Nick in the face.

  Nick loved his father more than anything, but he was convinced his sole reason for existing was to ensure Nick would remain a virgin for the rest of his life.

  Which was fine with Nick, at least for now. Yes, he had a hot boyfriend who had superpowers and went by the name Pyro Storm, and yes, his body looked amazing when he was in chinos or his Extraordinary costume, and yes, Nick loved making out with said hot superhero boyfriend, but he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to take it to the next level.

  It hadn’t helped that he’d done what he always did when he didn’t know something: he researched it exhaustively. And boy oh boy, was that a mistake. It was confusing being turned-on and also slightly horrified at the same time, especially when he’d come across an article titled “How to Be a Good Bottom” that involved detailed instructions and illustrations about things like the proper way to perform enemas to avoid any side effects, and wearing gloves for prepping so one’s fingernails didn’t cause damage to the interior of the anus.

  And that didn’t even begin to cover the wide and terrifying world of being a modern queer man in the twenty-first century and all that came with it. Was he a twink? A twunk? A power top? A power bottom? A bear? An otter? (He didn’t have enough body hair for those last two, but he wasn’t ready to rule anything out yet.) Did the heter-oh-noes have to deal with this? If not, then it was homophobic in ways Nick couldn’t even begin to articulate. How dare straight people avoid these little boxes.

  He kept on clicking, and it was about the time he was mired deep in an unintentional exploration of furry culture (people dressed up like wolves and goats and chickens and how awesome was that) that he realized he was probably in over his head.

  He was sixteen years old, dammit. He didn’t need to be a power goat twunk. He had ADHD and a healthy libido, which didn’t really leave room for anything else.

  Which was why the surprise Nick had for Seth was simply tackling him onto the bed and sticking his tongue down his throat. Seth, for his part, squawked, protested once through a mouthful of Nick, then gave up entirely when Nick bit down on the skin under his ear, which immediately turned him into putty.

  Nick was by no means an expert, especially since his first experience had been with a villain who’d ended up trying to kill him, but Seth’s appreciative noises and the grinding of his hips meant he wasn’t too bad, right? And Seth tasted
like pretzels, which should not have been as hot as it was. Oh god. What if he had a food fetish? What were they called? Foodies? Shit. What if he was a foodie?

  Nick remembered what he’d learned on Reddit about safety and consent. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You have a right to say no, and I will respect that decision.”

  Seth laughed quietly. “Really. How generous of you.”

  “I know,” Nick said, distracted by the way Seth’s sweater was pulling up even higher. Another inch or two, and his belly button would be exposed. Was that hot? Nick thought it might be, but he couldn’t be sure. Did he have a kink for belly buttons? What a terrible realization to have at this exact moment. He was having a hard enough time knowing he was a foodie.

  “Nick,” Seth said.

  “I’m not thinking anything weird!” Nick blurted as he looked up from Seth’s stomach. “I don’t want to cover you in chunky peanut butter and eat it off you!”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Nick said hastily. “Forget I even said that. Let’s talk about something else. How are you? I’m fine, thank you for asking. Would you like to take off your pants and stay awhile?” But then the idea of having to take off his own pants entered his head, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. This was both exactly what he wanted and still moving way too fast, all at the same time. He didn’t know how to reconcile the two, and the indecision made his brain hurt.

  “Hey, hey,” Seth said, reaching up and grabbing his forearms. “Nicky, look at me.”

  Nick did, trying to calm down before he spun out of control. While he wasn’t as bad as he used to be, he was still prone to setting himself off, his thoughts becoming nothing but static, his throat closing, vision tunneling. If he let it go too far, he’d end up with one of his headaches, which would knock him on his ass for a few hours at least.

  The medicine he took—Concentra! It’ll help you concentrate!—slowed the worst of the ADHD symptoms, but the headaches had increased in frequency. A side effect, he and Dad had been told, but one he’d have to deal with, given how Concentra was the best thing for him.