In the Heat of the Moment

The pair had agreed to meet at the Maison de la Rose, the expensive hotel nestled in the heart of Colmaton. The back of the taxi was stuffy and warm and, if it wasn't for needing to protect his secret identity, the fur sitting in the back would have gladly removed his mask to wipe away the sweat that was forming under it. The roads were jammed with cars, all probably looking to go to the upscale shops that lined the more prosperous side of the metropolis, and a quick glance at his watch told the hero that what was supposed to be an easy trip had taken almost half an hour.   
"Got a hot date tonight?"  
The feline hybrid looked up, jolted from his thoughts. "Excuse me?"  
"Hot date," the cabbie up front repeated, slower. "This is where all the hotshots bring their girlfriends--or their dates for the night, whatever floats their boats." The portly bulldog flashed his customer with a knowing, yellow grin. "You're the third drop-off at the Rose tonight."  
"No. It isn't a date."   
"Sure, buddy." Thick digits tapped merrily against the wheel. The hero ignored that smile and tried to hold his breath as they drew up behind a line of cars. Exhaust fumes had been leaking into the back of the taxi from outside, and it was all he could do not to ask the driver to pull over so he could get out in the fresh air again.   
This is the last time I take a cab, he decided. He tried to shut out the feeling of the cabbie's probing eyes and leaned his chin in his paw. The fumes began to burn the inside of his nose while the line in front of them inched up, painfully slow. He damned the sprained knee that made swinging from rooftop to rooftop impossible for the umpteenth time in a week and settled back to wait, tapping his digits against his arm.  
After what felt like an eternity, they finally got moving again, navigating through the heavy traffic to get closer to the Rose's parking lot. Neon lights advertised that it was free drink night at the bar, an offer that droves of furs seemed to be taking advantage of.  
"Business as usual," the cabbie remarked, adding a curse as a car tried to cut them off. "Goddamn suits think they can just pull out in front whenever they want to..."  
"I'll just get out here." The hero sat up to fish around for his money clip. "Hope cash is okay.”   
"You sure?" Even as he asked, the driver reached a hammy paw back to accept his payment.   
"It's not that far to walk." He found a fifty and passed it up into the light-studded darkness in the front of the cab. “Tip's included." The costumed fur reached to unfasten his seatbelt. In front of him, the driver shifted against the faux-leather upholstery.   
"Hey," he grunted.  
The hybrid paused. "Yeah?" Dammit, I hope he's not going to get greedy.  
"Can I have your autograph?"  
The cat sighed through his nose, relaxing. Remembering the practiced handwriting he used for signing autographs so nobody could tag him as Zaine Einer was a pain in the tail, but paranoia in his line of work tended to pay off.   
"You have anything I can sign?" he asked after a pause.  
"Right here."  
The tiger-serval took the taxi business card and grimy pen that were shoved his way and made short work of his signature. The bulldog gave him a last smile when he handed them back, then tipped his squat hat.   
"Thanks, Hypertension."   
"Any time."  
"One more thing."  
"What?"  
"Don't let her take you for everything you're worth. You know how femmes are." The cab window slid up, reflecting the gaudy advertising lights before the yellow car pulled away into the night.  
"Yeah," Hypertension repeated to the empty air. "Thanks again."  
He turned away and concentrated on putting one paw in front of the other on his way up the curb, hoping the knee didn’t flare up again. Now that he was alone, a nagging feeling was starting to chew at his insides. There had been many times, more times than he could remember and be fully comfortable with, when he hadn't known what to expect. Gaining a superhero identity had increased those occasions tenfold, but over time, he'd gotten more comfortable with criminals, nearly being shot, and finding out what was really on most of his fellow furs' minds when they committed crimes.  
Tonight was something else altogether.  
He blinked when the front doors came into view. The flashing light here was stronger; the corners of his vision filled with patterns of alternating colors. Thank God I'm not epileptic.   
"Hey, asshole, watch where you're going!" A Dalmatian staggered past him, clearly drunk on something that smelled little better than urine. A Collie attached to his arm giggled, her dark eyes sweeping Hypertension, and the hero felt a surge of butterflies mixed with lust. She was gorgeous, even if she had poor taste in her choice of apparent boyfriends.  
"Ignore him, Dante," she smiled. Her voice was high and sweet. "You promised we'd go back to your place."  
"You're lucky, asshole," the newly-dubbed Dante slurred. "Just watch your ass."  
Hypertension made a dry sound and walked past the couple. The dog had been lithe and skinny; he'd probably bench-pressed heavier things that morning. Both canines were so apparently inebriated they hadn't noticed the way he was dressed.  
Just as well. Getting into a fight before he was supposed to meet a fellow costumed fur would probably be in bad taste. Hypertension pushed the Rose's front door open, the glass cool against the tips of his digits. Inside was much like the outside, furs sipping from fluted glasses, laughing at jokes and standing with heads bent together in corners. Others were waiting in line or signing up for rooms.  
The butterflies threatened to surge again. He firmly tamped them down. He didn't know much about the contact he was supposed to be meeting here, other than she was another heroine who went by the alias ‘Pirate Queen’. Like him, she sometimes employed tactics that could be a little unorthodox to carry out justice, but Colmaton was just one of the places she operated in, and it was only by pure chance that they’d run into each other. Among the other heroes, she had a reputation of being lavish when it struck her fancy, and if this place was any indication, she'd gone all-out for what was supposed to be a business meeting to discuss the local thug problem.   
"May I help you?" An elegant lizard femme addressed him from the reception counter. Hypertension stepped up, finding his wallet and getting ready to find his printed reservation confirmation that Pirate Queen had emailed to him when the receptionist gestured for him to stop.  
"You're Hypertension, right? Miss Pirate Queen's been waiting for you."  
"How long has she been here?" he asked. “I tried to get here early.”  
"Not long. I'll just take that confirmation and let you up. Room four-oh-seven." Then she smiled. It had the same knowledgeable air that the cabbie’s had. "She said she's looking forward to your discussion."  
If the receptionist had been male, Hypertension may have told him where he could stick it. But as it was, he smiled back a little. Ever since he'd hit puberty, he couldn't say no or be rude to a female.  
"Here's your room key." A plastic card that looked kind of like the one he'd paid with was slid across the desk's polished surface to him. "Please enjoy your stay."  
He was getting tired of thanking everyone, but nodded his appreciation. He took the card, then wove his way past another crush of overly-perfumed furs to where the elevator was accepting a glut of patrons.   
He was the last in line again, and by the time he got in, the small space was empty. Punching in the number for the fourth floor, Hypertension leaned against the wall and felt his stomach drop.  
Keep it professional, he warned himself. More sweat was beading under his spandex. Pirate Queen wasn't, of course, going to meet him out of costume, and if it was one thing he'd noticed, many of the heroines belonging to the Bureau's team—and those who, like him, hadn’t bothered to register--looked damn hot in theirs. He wondered if some of them did it on purpose; he wasn't the only male to notice, and sometimes he chatted with the other guys about which femme he'd like to see in a swimsuit, or would like to even share a bed with.  
But those were jokes at best, fantasies. He wasn't here to sex up anybody. Chances were, all it was going to be between them was food, a drink or two, and talk about the Weasel, the leader of the Red Hood gang he'd helped her take out last week. He wondered if his fellow hero had chosen the fancier venue on purpose, knew it was going to make him think that things were going to go beyond business—Hypertension kneaded an oncoming headache out of his forehead. He was being stupid.  
Stay focused.  
The elevator opened with a soft chime.  
Ignoring the acrobatics his stomach was doing, the feline stepped out.  
She was waiting for him.  
\*\*\*  
An elegant leg stretched the length of the bed, whispering over silken sheets. Champagne waited in a bucket of ice close to room 407's door. Wriggling her painted toenails, the bunny-snow-leopard hybrid smiled to herself. She'd made sure to use some extra make-up that evening, accenting her eyes and cheekbones, and had even splurged on a rare bottle of perfume.  
Her efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.  
The way the bellhop’s eyes had widened when she swept in earlier had almost been funny, and a few femmes had been eyeing her jealously when their dates looked her way. The staring had filled her stomach with a warm, happy glow. When she got to the reception desk, she’d been sure to drop not-so-subtle hints about the purpose of her visit.  
She raised her leg up to examine what she could see of her clothes.  
The variation of her costume was revealing without being tasteless. Having it custom-made had been annoying, but the results were more than worth it. The full length-mirror in the shop earlier that night hadn't lied--she looked amazing, and a male would have to be blind or gay not to notice her.  
Now all she needed was her date.  
Pirate Queen ran her paws over her body, from the firmness of nipples covered by spandex down the length of abdominal muscles made strong from hours of training at the gym. Going into heat when you were technically single was agony. It was even worse when self-loving didn’t take care of the desire that kept you up at night, all night, to the point of hindering how well you could do your jobs, both civilian and superheroine.   
One digit slid down to more sensitive skin, teasing experimentally. A hot flash of need stole through her to light every nerve ending. She chewed the inside of her cheek and toyed with the idea of allowing herself a little relief before company arrived; he wasn’t due for another hour. Her eyes squeezed closed and her breath hitched as she pushed against fabric that was already soaked.  
Behind her eyelids, memories began to unravel. The sky was clear that evening, sprinkled with stars, not a cloud in sight. A huge full moon poured white light down over Colmaton’s sleeping buildings.  
There would have been a time in the recent past where she might have thought everything was serene and beautiful, but after donning the costume, times like those made her even more alert.  
 All too often, the prettiest nights were a backdrop for the ugliest events.  
The poorer neighborhoods didn’t always have enough cops to cover them in the later hours when the dregs of society were around, and so Pirate Queen had adopted the lonelier, seedier area of downtown as her haunt, staying vigilant well into the very early morning hours. To her surprise, she hadn’t had to bust up any robberies or drug deals in the five hours she’d been out, and swinging from building to building was making her arms ache. She landed on top of an office building. Her ears were cold from the wind whipping past them. Maybe knocking off early just once and running a nice hot bath at home would be a better idea than staying out with nothing going on.  
That was when someone screamed. A girl, and she sounded young. Dammit. Two possibilities immediately flashed into Pirate Queen’s head and she gritted her teeth. Robbery or rape. And both, especially when they were committed against young femmes, really pissed her off.   
Aiming her swing line down, she descended to the roof of a lower building. It had long since closed for the night, but the smell of greasy food lingered in the air. Straining her ears, the hybrid tried to pinpoint where the cry had come from.  
Another rose up. It was plaintive, frantic, more of a choked sob. “Stop, oh God, please! You can have—.” Something—fabric, probably—tore.  
“’Fraid you’re gonna give me more’n that,” a voice grunted. They were closer to her location than she’d anticipated.  
Son of a bitch. She wasted little time dropping down to the street and picking her way through the narrow, trash-strewn alley. Two furs, one much smaller than the other, stood close together a few feet away. The taller of the two had the smaller one’s arm pinned behind her back, twisting it cruelly while his free paw fumbled for his zipper. An article of female clothing, her panties, were down around her high heels. The rapist had been in such a hurry to remove them, a large tear went down one seam.  
Red filled Pirate Queen’s vision. She strode closer, reaching for her belt to assure herself that the zip-ties she used to detain criminals before she called the police were there.  
“You’re gonna like this, baby,” she heard the rapist breathe.  
“Excuse me,” and she appeared behind him, right at his back, “but I don’t know any femme who likes a rapist with a needle dick.”  
He turned, bloodshot eyes narrowing in fury. “Who the hell’re y—.”  
A fist answered his question, filling his mouth and breaking his teeth. The fox staggered back with a muffled yell of his own, trying to cradle a swelling jaw while glowering daggers at the heroine. “It was consensual,” he slurred, snatching at his victim’s arm. The pretty little rabbit shook her head and tried to pull away while large, mascara-stained tears ran down her cheeks. “Tell the bitch. You said you’d put out.”  
“I doubt that,” Pirate Queen answered for her. “You wanted to rape her. I overheard everything.”  
“Fuck you, you didn’t overhear nothin’—.”  
That ended in a moan as a pointed boot toe found his genitals. The fox choked, reaching for his bruised testicles while trying to stay upright. “You piece of shit. She—,” he started to slide down to the ground, “—she’s a whore. I paid her.”  
“Shut up before I kick you hard enough to make sure they never re-descend,” Pirate Queen suggested, unlooping the zip-ties and reaching down to hold the fox’s wrists together. She made sure to squeeze harder than needed to keep him from jerking out of her hold while she put the tie in place. “I’m detaining you, and then I’m calling the cops.” She glanced over at the young femme, who was frozen with fear a few feet away.   
“It’s okay, honey, he won’t hurt you.” She tried to keep her tone low and soothing, afraid the girl was going to fall apart right in front of her. Dealing with that was not one of her strong suits. “Did he do anything before I got here?”  
“N-No.” Several earrings clinked together when she shook her head. “He, he’s right, but—but I told him to stop, he could take whatever I made for the night and go, but he, he kept--.”   
“He’s going to the police now. Can you make a statement?” she asked.  
A weak nod.   
“Okay, I’m just going to give them a call.” Pirate Queen reached for her pre-paid cell. Buying a new one every few weeks was inconvenient, but pay phones were becoming a rarity and it wasn’t as if she could carry change on her everywhere she went for the number of captures she made. “Wait here.”  
 While she punched the number in and waited for one of Colmaton’s finest to pick up, she rolled her eyes at the number of rings. For the amount he got in his salary, all funded by taxes, Mayor Anderson needed to put more foot up more tail. The police chief and his lackeys were really starting to slack lately. She silently counted while putting a foot in the middle of the rapist’s spine and drowning out his complaints about having rights and wanting his lawyer.  
One, two, three, four. Five, six…Seven rings? Come on.   
Maybe if she hadn’t been distracted, maybe if she hadn’t been so confident her job for the night was done, she would have overheard the crunch of gravel, the footfall getting closer. But what was definitely impossible to miss was the strike to the back of her head, a hot line of pain that flared in crimson stars through her skull. Pirate Queen stumbled, automatically reaching for the back of her head. The cell phone fell and clattered away to lie somewhere in the shadows.  
“You okay, Stu?” The new voice sounded a lot like the criminal’s, low-class but deeper and less slurred. Probably not as drunk as his friend, she thought woozily. Something hard pressed against her side. She’d stumbled without processing it, leaning heavily into the brick wall as her legs threatened to give out. Gang-rape, and the girl probably didn’t know her john was planning for a free-for-all, the more aware part of her brain informed her. There’s probably more of them, and now there are two potential victims. She tried to make everything stop spinning and focus, but the hit had been hard. Really stupid move.  
The one named Stu wriggled on the asphalt. “That bitch interrupted me,” he whined. “Was just about to stick it in when the whore started screamin’.”  
“They do that.” A pocket knife clicked, and a beagle stepped into the fringes of her blurry vision to reach down and start trying to saw through the zip ties. His free paw held a thick plank, and the end was red with blood. So that was what she felt trickling down the back of her head. Baleful yellow eyes raked over her and yellower teeth appeared in a grin as the knife was folded and tucked away. “Looks like one of those costumes that likes to come and put their nose into everything.” He glanced down at the dark valley between Pirate Queen’s breasts. “She wants to put it in my business, I got somethin’ to put in her.”  
In the face of the agony parading through her head, the rage tried to rekindle. Pirate Queen turned and tried to ready a punch, but her arms felt rubbery, weak. Her wrist was caught and squeezed so hard it made tears pool in the corners of her eyes. The Doberman didn’t let up, feeling her tense. His smile spread wider.   
“This one feels like she’s got enough stamina to take on all four of us.” He turned his self-satisfied leer to Stu, who was staggering up and rubbing his wrists. “Maybe I’ll give you sloppy seconds.”   
“This was my idea, and all you’re giving me is seconds?” his friend squawked.  
Their distraction gave her an idea. Come on, Laura, get it together long enough to—  
Pirate Queen pulled away from the Doberman, sharp and sudden enough for him to lose his balance. While it was almost enough to compromise her own, she ground her teeth against a roll of nausea and executed a kick high enough to catch him in the stomach. As he stumbled back, Pirate Queen darted closer to the prostitute, who hadn’t moved an inch.   
“Run,” she wheezed to the little femme. When the other female didn’t rise quickly enough, she grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “I said run!”  
There was a sharp pop from behind them. A sharp, acrid smell filled the air.   
 “This was supposed to be simple,” a new voice chimed in. A third figure, an alligator, held his gun on Pirate Queen. “You fuckups can’t even score a whore right?” Behind him stood two more furs, and in their paws were two more guns. Pirate Queen tried not to acknowledge a sinking feeling in her stomach. Shit. Just to make her night even more interesting, she had to deal with multiple armed opponents. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered her, but civilians, bullets and fighting while juggling living liabilities was a dangerous mix.  
Worst of all, she recognized the alligator. That sneering face, that obnoxious nasally voice, had been in papers and on the news ad nauseum for over a year at least once a month.   
Weasel. She wasn’t sure how a reptile got tagged with a nickname like that—likely because he was an infamous money launderer—but a more pressing concern was his rap sheet, the highlights to which she’d seen at police headquarters when they asked all of Colmaton’s superheroes to keep an eye out for him. Murder was somewhere on that list.  
And now he wanted to add hers to it.  
Weasel’s cronies whined excuses to him, but the words were lost to the buzzing in Pirate Queen’s ears. If she darted to the left, maybe she could get away—no, a scar-faced thug had that avenue blocked. To the right—the squeeze between bodies and the wall would be too tight, and she was almost sure that in the struggle, she and the prostitute would both be shot. She took a few steps away from them, her heartbeat throbbing in the back of her head with each step.   
“…things.” Weasel finished whatever he was saying before looking over to the heroine. “I have a few new toys I’ve been wanting to try out.” There was a click. The alleyway was dead silent, and in its stillness that small sound was almost like another gunshot. “Like this one.”  
Something flashed in the corner of her eye. A tiny spark of light, moving so quickly that even her enhanced vision had trouble catching it. Then, her body flushed with heat.  
Heat transformed quickly into agony.   
The scream that tore from her throat sounded like a stranger’s. It was as if a hand on fire had reached into her chest, squeezing, tearing, ripping into her lungs. Pirate Queen didn’t feel her body crumple, but became dimly aware that the pavement had risen up to meet her. Layers of torture combined one on top of the other. She wheezed, hating to hear a sob mixed in with her breathing.  
Almost like that time all over again.  
Bile rose in the back of her throat to fill her mouth with a sour taste. The reptile was laughing. The rest of them joined in, more hesitant. Probably, she thought bitterly, because they knew Weasel was planning on putting her in a body bag sometime in the next few minutes. She wondered how many of them besides him had actually ever killed a furson.   
Her eyes closed. The darkness behind them sizzled with zigzags of red, explosions of white. She was going to black out soon.  
 I’m sorry, Grandma.   
More light flickered outside of her closed lids. Likely Weasel again with something else to drive her into insanity’s embrace. Pirate Queen didn’t have the strength to resist, but she wanted one last look at the bastard, to let him know that if those she’d once loved couldn’t break her spirit, he didn’t stand a chance.  
Above her head, there was a yell.  
Pirate Queen forced her eyes to open. Her lids felt like concrete and blurry cobwebs laced her vision but she managed, staring up at the streetlights that stood like swollen fireflies just outside the alleyway. Cool air caressed her face. She was no longer on fire, but her muscles twitched as she gulped for air.   
It stopped. It felt quiet inside her aching head, her every particle divorced from the reality of what was happening. There were more screams, masculine ones, more than one, blending together. The cops had to have finally arrived. About goddamn time.  
“Shit!” Weasel’s dismayed curse rose loud above the cacophony. “Pull back, you idiots! You’re going to--.” His sentence broke off suddenly. More gunshots echoed from the surrounding walls.  
Then, more silence.  
Pirate Queen tried to sit up, but a sharp warning from her head and chest convinced her that lying down was a better idea. A higher voice shivered, quaked out that it was okay, and the masked fur breathed a sigh of relief. Every other aspect of that night had gone terribly, but at least her civilian would be able to walk away relatively unharmed.  
Footsteps crunched over gravel, heading her way. The hybrid tried to speak, ask what took so long. A moan emerged instead.  
“Hey.” A shadow fell over her. A male. He didn’t sound like anybody on the force that she’d met. She contemplated trying to struggle, but her body felt like a sack of burnt potatoes. And, she reasoned, if he wanted to rape or finish her off, he wouldn’t have tried to speak to her first in such a kind tone.   
She made another attempt at speech. “Mmf?”   
“Are you all right?” He sounded genuinely concerned, none of that fake ‘sense of duty’ bullshit the cops liked to pull.  
“Kinda.” Pirate Queen inwardly winced. She sounded like she’d been slamming back shots all night.   
“Can you open your eyes?” the voice questioned, coaxing her.   
It was much more difficult the second time around. The maker of the voice, a dark figure, was leaning over her. She tried to take in his face and other details but her focus slipped, causing them to slide and muddle together. She winced at the feel of digits gently exploring the back of her head.   
Then a small ball of light lanced into one of her eyes.  
“Jesus, will you put that thing down?” Exhaustion and discomfort got the better of her, and she snapped at her unknown rescuer. “My head is killing me and you’re putting a friggin’ light in there!”  
“Sorry, I have to make sure you don’t have a bad concussion.”   
“God.” Pirate Queen let that out on a breath. The little ball, a penlight, clicked briefly into her other eye, then went out. Her rescuer leaned in closer.  
He was all black, and it wasn’t just the shadowing in the enclosed space. It took her a moment to put two and two together; his fur was a rich sable color. The feline paws reaching for her were gloved, and the eyes appraising her condition were behind a mask.   
Another vigilante. Pirate Queen squinted at him. She’d been around Colmaton several times on several different nights and had never seen him before. Or maybe she had but had never caught his handle.  
“Who are you?” Now she’d graduated to talking as if through a throatful of sandpaper.   
“Me?” He sounded surprised at the question, distracted more with trying to help her sit up. “My name is HT.”  
“HT? Is that little hooker girl okay? And Weasel?”  
“Hypertension.” His gaze flicked towards the back of the alley. “The girl’s all right, I just told her to sit and wait until I can get the cops on the line. Weasel’s cooling his heels with his friends back there.”  
Shame bloomed where the fire had before. “I should’ve been able to take care of them myself.”  
Muscled shoulders shrugged under his costume. “Everybody screws up sometimes.”  
Pirate Queen gritted her teeth. “At least let me kick Weasel in the nuts before the cops pick him up.”  
He stifled a sound that might have been a laugh. “I get being pissed off at the guy and not wanting him to reproduce, but I put some lasting pain into him. He won’t be getting up or eating properly for awhile.”  
“How did you find me?” The world rocked a little, but she made herself turn her head towards him. He frowned.  
“I patrol this area sometimes. Usually, I do the other side of town, but tonight I got a feeling I should try this end. Maybe we should take you to a hospital and have your head checked out. And the rest of you. You were out for a little while there. That remote taser Weasel used--.”  
“I’m fine,” she cut in. So that’s what he used on me. Asshole. “I don’t need to go anywhere but back home and to a hot shower.”  
He sighed. “Suit yourself. Uh, I don’t think I got your name.”  
“Pirate Queen.” She drew her legs up and willed them not to shake before she could properly get up. “And after the cops get here, I’m gone.”  
She swore she saw a brow quirk under Hypertension’s mask. “Listen, if you need anything else, I have a private line you can use to get in touch. I know the crime in this part of the city can be overwhelming.”  
“I’m all right.” Irritation at the situation and herself colored her voice as she started to stand. She wobbled, and for a second she was afraid he was going to support her. He stayed settled on his haunches, looking up at her. In the dim light, she could see other patterns playing in his dark fur.   
He isn’t bad looking. The thought made her blink at herself. It wasn’t like her to act or think like an uninhibited schoolgirl pursuing a crush, and more important things were supposed to be on her mind. But he did look like he lifted weights or did some type of other training to stay in shape, and she had to admit to herself that she had been short with him after he’d done nothing but try to help her. She held out a gloved paw.  
“Here, give me that card, then. I’ll think about being in touch if I’m coming out this way again.”  
He eyed her before reaching for his belt. A silver case was produced, unclipped from the back of it, and she examined the little rectangle of cardboard he handed her. She’d tucked it away in her own belt, in the holster where she kept her pistol. After that, the cops had arrived, and as soon as she saw the red and blue flashing lights, she’d stayed true to her word. She’d handed Weasel and his goons off to Colmaton’s supposed finest, made sure the hooker had been let go without a fine, and declined to accompany them in the squad car down to the station to make a statement. Hypertension had done the same, deigning it fit to leave as soon as the cars had pulled away.  
He hadn’t said good-bye.   
In the present, lying on the silken sheets, Pirate Queen’s digit slipped past the barrier of her costume and flesh met flesh. If she hadn’t gone into heat not long after that first meeting, that probably would have been the end of it. They would have gone their separate ways, patrolled their own self-determined areas of Colmaton, and that would have been that. Even in heat, even desperate, she was sure there were other things she could have done if she really wanted to. She had an ex or two that she was sure would take her up on the offer of sex if she’d felt inclined to call.   
The truth was, apart from being physically attracted to him, she felt a little guilty about the way their meeting had ended. Weasel was swearing up and down from his jail cell that he’d get the heroes responsible for having his bail denied and putting him on trial, and if their last run-in was any indication, he would hold true to his word. If she’d been more competent, Hypertension wouldn’t have needed to get involved, and he wouldn’t be sharing Weasel’s line of sight when he got out of prison with her now.  
She reached up to squeeze a breast and sighed at the feeling of a hard nipple against the palm of her paw. She’d only just called Hypertension a few nights ago, and she knew she was playing a potentially dangerous game. She knew he was a hero like her and that was all. She hardly thought he was scum, but some guys were known to be pigs in more than physical appearance and use femmes for their own needs before never speaking to them again. Still, Hypertension didn’t strike her like the type.  
The tip of one digit found the sensitive nub of nerves that had been a figurative pain for days. Knowing this night was coming, she’d refrained from making herself do the same for the last twenty-four hours. She didn’t want to spoil things for him before he could get in the door. But, she reasoned, males could smell femmes in heat anyway. If she greased the track to get the ball rolling a little early, that would probably strengthen the scent.   
If visual and scent cues failed, she always had her backup. Her thoughts toyed with the possibilities of what her ace in the hole would do if she had to pluck it from beside the champagne and use it. It was an import from Russia, and she’d been assured by several online reviews that it got results.  
Her back arched as she rubbed faster. Her breath hitched. A second digit joined the first, and wet heat surrounded it immediately. She couldn’t stifle a soft whimper. The way the spandex needed to stretch to accommodate the muscles under that black fur had been the subject of many a dream since she’d met him.  
He has to work out. Maybe he uses the same gym I do. She began to move, in, out, slowly to begin with. But maybe he has a girlfriend. Dammit, he’d better not or that’s really going to ruin my night. She worked faster, hearing the wet sounds from below. She pinched the nipple under her pads and rocked her hips at the jolt that raced down her spine.  
Oh lord, she hoped he didn’t work the muscles in the rest of his body to compensate for not having the one that counted the most. She could almost imagine it, see it spring to life under her paw as she stroked. He would whimper at her first touch before trying to compensate with some of his own. He’d ask her to move her paw this way, squeeze like that, take him into her mouth so she could taste—  
Her inner muscles contracted hard around her digit. Warm fluid slipped out across her palm, and a final shudder worked through her. Pirate Queen reached her peak with a loud groan. It was only after she’d crashed back to earth a minute later, blinking dizzily, that she hoped no one else had overheard her. Fantasizing about him a little had given her a harder orgasm, but like a warm tide going back to sea, a cold dash of darker emotion followed. The question of whether or not he was attached was a big one, and then there was the other problem of if he was attracted enough to her to sleep with her. She’d have to be careful with the champagne until she could be certain that it was all consensual.   
She lifted her digits up with a frown. They were covered in her own fluids. “Tissues,” she muttered to herself, rolling on her side to face the bedside table. A wall of silk flowers greeted her searching paw instead. Oh, right. Don’t use so many flowers when making another love nest. A white flag of tissue peeked up above the red and yellow flower heads, and she plucked one out, wiping her digits thoroughly before wadding it up.   
She had just made an unsuccessful bid to throw it in the trash can when there was a tap at her door.  
“Hello? Pirate Queen?”  
Damn, he’s here already! “Just a minute!”   
“It’s HT. Hypertension? Sorry I’m a little early, I thought I’d have some trouble getting here so I took an earlier cab.”  
“I’ll say,” Pirate Queen muttered under her breath. It was fortunate that she’d been quick in setting the room up. She hurried to straighten her clothes and reached for the doorknob.  
The creak of the door on its hinges startled the darker crossbreed, who had been making sure there were no traces of lint or cab smell clinging to his outfit. He cleared his throat, offering an apologetic smile. “Uh, hi.”  
“Hey.” Light from the room’s interior dappled them both. Lines of it fell across muscle and crept into eyes.  
For the first time, they could truly see one another.  
Oh my God. The hero felt a flush rise into his cheeks. Is that what her costume looked like the last time? It’s painted on! His gaze wandered from one feminine asset to the next, settling on the cups that held her breasts. Why did she dress like that for a business meeting?   
He’s got more muscles than I thought. Pirate Queen allowed herself to smile. “Please, come in.”  
He came, sidling past her to take in the silk flowers and the heady scent of her perfume. “Wow.” His mouth ran dry. No wonder the staff thought she was planning some sort of romantic evening! “You, you really went all-out for this.”  
Seeing his eyes widen, she decided to act casual. “Do you like it? I try to dress up when I know I’m expecting a guest.”  
He took in the aroma of what had to be roses mingled with something else he couldn’t put a digit on. “I feel underdressed,” he admitted.  
I wish, she thought. “No, you look fine. Would you like something to drink? I ordered champagne, and dinner should be up soon.”  
Her eyes caught his, and Hypertension’s mouth ran drier still. “Yeah, sure.” Although he would need much more alcohol than the average fur to get drunk, it would still take the edge off the sudden surge of nervousness. It’s not like you’ve never seen a naked femme, he scolded himself, watching Pirate Queen turn toward the bucket of ice and carefully lift the bottle out. Her hips wriggled and an answering string of heat unthreaded from his chest to points down south.   
You may have seen naked femmes before, another part of his mind argued, but they sure as hell didn’t look like that!  
“Do you need help with the cork?” he heard himself ask.  
Pirate Queen peeled off a golden curl of foil from the neck of the bottle then winced as she went to uncork it. “Would you mind? I don’t want to shoot someone in the eye.” She extended the bottle to him.  
He reached for it, keeping his eyes on hers. Something might be up here. Keep acting professional. Their digits brushed and he could feel the warmth of hers through his gloves. His paws froze and he swallowed hard.  
“Is something wrong?” The bunny-leopard painted on a frown.   
Hypertension pushed his lips into a smile. “Oh, it’s just the knee. I took a landing on it pretty hard a few days ago, and it likes acting up now and then. It happens when you’re not a cub anymore.”  
“You can’t be that old, can you?”  
He was saved from answering as the cork worked loose and cold bubbles of champagne dripped between his digits. “There we go. Should I also pour?”  
“I’ll do it.” She went to take the bottle back from him. “So, about the Red Hoods and Weasel…”  
“Our last meeting with them was a problem.” Hypertension followed his hostess as she walked to the table in the middle of the room. “The mini-taser is something the cops didn’t know about when we talked to them.”  
“Meaning there must be other new additions to their repertoire.” Erring on the side of caution, she filled the fluted glasses sitting on the table sparingly before setting the bottle down to offer him his. “I wonder where they got the goods. We are talking about Weasel here, so he’s bound to have some dickhead friends in the criminal underworld that we don’t know about yet.”  
“So what will we do?”  
“We should probably step up patrols.” She sat, patting the seat of the empty chair next to hers. “I was going to talk to Lady Liberty next, maybe Brown Lotus.”  
“Getting others involved might be a bigger risk than it’s worth,” he pointed out, taking the offered seat with some hesitation. “The Bureau…”  
“If the Red Hoods get vicious enough, they’re going to get involved anyway,” she countered. “It will be a lot more paperwork and red tape one way or the other, but maybe having that backing will be the difference between heroes stopping the Hoods or going to the morgue in bodybags.”  
“I don’t know.” Hypertension sighed. Threads of Pirate Queen’s hair caught the low lights, shimmering and soft. An urge to reach out and touch it filled him and he had to keep a firmer hold on the stem of his glass.   
“It’s worth thinking about.” She took a sip of her drink and leaned closer. “The last time we went up against them was sobering for me.”  
“The first time they get the upper paw like that, it always is.” Her smell came to him again, almost overpowering now that they were side by side. His body stirred, trapped in spandex, and he shifted uncomfortably.   
“Have you ever had something like that happen?” she asked.   
“You mean, have I ever almost--.”  
“Had a close call,” Pirate Queen finished for him. “Yes.”  
“A few times,” he replied, finally taking a small drink of his own. The bubbles tickled his nose and he resisted a sneeze.   
“What happened?”  
“Well, the first time was a few months after I put the costume on for the first time.” Hypertension leaned back in his chair. “There were these two furs that decided they were going to rob a jewelry store—stereotypical stuff—and the owner couldn’t get the cops out there fast enough.”  
She rolled her eyes. “What else is new?”  
“So anyway, I go in there and think I’m being really careful when I trip over some of the bricks they knocked down to get in.” He smiled ruefully. “A blind bat could have seen me coming after that.”  
“So how did you get out of it?” She was already grinning.  
“The cops.” It shamed him to admit that. “They pulled in right about the time the crooks were trying to hog-tie me to embarrass me a little before they blew my brains out.”  
“It’s a good thing they were arrogant and stupid about it,” Pirate Queen said, the smile turning to a wince.   
“There were other times, but that one was the most mortifying.”  
“Well, I’m glad you made it out.” She toyed with her drink, twirling it by the stem for a long beat of silence. “Listen, about the other night…I’m sorry I was so nasty to you when you were just trying to help.”  
“Don’t worry about it.” He dared to reach across and pat her shoulder. Nothing sexual about that, he argued to himself. “You were hurt and embarrassed. I might have reacted the same way if someone put a light in my eyes.”   
“I meant to ask how that’s supposed to help with a concussion.”  
“Um, well, I read some first aid books before I took on the costume. You know, in case a civvy needed it. It said that if the pupils don’t dilate in response to light, it means the person has bleeding on the brain so the nerves aren’t responding the way they should.”  
Pirate Queen leaned back to regard him. Hot and smart. “Huh, I guess you learn something new every day. Maybe I should start reading up on stuff like that.”  
“It could help,” he agreed. “I could recommend some books for you to--.”  
“Room service.” A tap sounded on the door behind them. “I have your surf and turf.”  
“Surf and turf?” Hypertension repeated, brows lifting. “I’d heard you like to be nice to your guests, but that’s a hundred-dollar meal right there.”  
She waved a paw and scraped her chair back. “That’s nothing.”  
He was treated to another view of her backside as she went to answer the door. Money exchanged paws and he thought he saw her slip the uniformed fur on the other side a fifty dollar tip. “I should pay you back for some of it,” he argued.  
“Don’t worry about it.” Pirate Queen started wheeling the covered dishes closer. “I have more than enough to cover us both, as I said.”  
“But--.”  
“Don’t try to be a gentleman,” she said firmly. “A lot of femmes don’t go for that.”  
“They don’t?”  
She took the metal covering from the first dish. A savory scent filled the air, making his stomach rumble in appreciation.   
“Not always. We do like standing on our own two paws.” Taking the provided towels from the cart, she lifted the hot plate and put it down in front of him. “Doesn’t the gentleman stuff drive your girlfriend crazy?”  
Hypertension unsheathed his knife and fork from the linen they were swaddled in. “I’m single.”  
“You are?” Pirate Queen couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.  
He nodded. “A steady relationship doesn’t work out too well when one or both of you are out on patrol all the time.”  
“I see.” Putting her own food down, the grey fur sat again. “Haven’t you ever wanted to find someone?”  
“I do, but—.” He started cutting his steak. “It’s difficult. What about you?” It seemed so easy, casual, to ask her that question, and he suddenly remembered this was supposed to be all business. “I’m sorry, it probably isn’t my business.”  
“I asked first,” she shrugged. “I do want to find someone too, but I’m still young. I have plenty of time, and it seems self-centered to get married and retire when there are still furs getting shot or robbed or raped out there.”  
Hypertension nodded. “That’s what I keep thinking. Um, why did you put the costume on in the first place?”  
Pirate Queen stopped peeling a piece of shrimp and set it down on the edge of her plate. “It’s…I have the ability, I guess. Why shouldn’t I use what I have to protect people?”  
He thought he saw a shiver run over her skin. “Just stop me if I’m getting too personal.”  
“You’re not. Why did you do it?”  
“The same reasons as you, I guess. I can protect people, so why not?”  
“That’s fair.” She reached for the bottle again to top off her glass. “If we’re going to talk like this, I want more booze.”  
“Are you sure you should drink that much?” he questioned, seeing the alcohol bubble in.   
“I can handle my liquor.”  
“All right.” Hypertension eyed her dubiously. “If you say so.”  
The rest of their meal passed in relative silence. With each subsequent drink, he watched her eyes get glassier, more distant, and finally he went for the bottle himself.  
“What are you doing?” she asked. She hadn’t started slurring yet, but she did look more relaxed than she had when he’d come in.   
“Making sure you don’t get plastered.” He went to pour more for himself.  
“I’m not,” she insisted, making a grab for it. Her paw came to rest across his good knee.   
“Hey!” His arm wobbled and a few drops of drink spilled over the bottle-neck.  
“I said it’s all right,” she repeated. “I can take it.”  
“Let me have some first.” Her touch felt warm, traveling up his thigh, and his body began responding again, ever so faintly. Yet, he knew pushing her away would be rude. “Pirate Queen…”  
“Wait, wait, before you put more in.” She pushed her chair back and started for the ice bucket. “I got something else the other day and you have to try it.”  
Left in peace for a moment, the other fur poured before twisting around to get a better view of what she retrieved from the ice. “What is it?”  
“It’s from Russia.” The blonde sauntered back to the table, eyes alight with mischief. “It’s supposed to taste like chocolate-covered cherries.”  
Despite the warning that flashed in the pit of his stomach, his curiosity was piqued. “Is it a liquor?”   
“I think so. Wanna try it?”  
Hypertension paused for a beat, then decided to go for broke. “Hell, why not. Just a little bit, though.”  
“Why? Are you driving?” Something else crossed Pirate Queen’s mind and she giggled. “Or swinging?”  
“Neither. I’m taking another cab.”  
“Then you can have more.” Before he could stop her, she’d unscrewed the cap to a smaller red bottle, unending its contents in with his champagne.   
“I didn’t--.” He shook his head and sighed. “Is it going to taste good with the other stuff in there?”  
“I don’t know, but that’s the point of experimenting, right?”  
Hypertension eyed her. “You’re drunk.”  
“Tipsy,” she corrected, indignant. “Go on, drink it.”  
Her stare bored into him. Raising the glass to his lips, the other hybrid parted them and let the alcohol flow in over his tongue. Bubbles, a rush of heat. He swallowed and a trail burned down into his stomach.  
“So?” Pirate Queen hovered close to his chair. “How is it?”  
“Strong.” He blinked, his eyes watering. “What did you say this was?”  
“From Russia.”  
“That doesn’t tell me what it is.” His stomach prickled and a wave of fog started to creep across his thoughts.   
Her shoulders rose and fell in another shrug. “Does it matter?”  
“I guess not, as long as it’s not poison. But I almost never get drunk.”   
“Maybe you should,” she suggested.   
“Why?”  
“It will help you relax.” Somehow, she went from being close to his chair back in her own; he hadn’t noticed her move. “Our lives have so much stress in them as heroes, we deserve to kick back once in awhile.”  
A bubble caught Hypertension’s eye on its lazy way up to the surface of his drink. It wasn’t responsible or intelligent to become inebriated now, but the dynamics of this meeting, whatever it was, had shifted.   
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But—why did you bring me here if we haven’t really talked about Weasel and the Hoods since I got in?”  
“We have talked about them. But I don’t like boring evenings.” Her paw found his knee again and slid up, slipping over his thigh. “I thought you’d figured it out.”  
“Figured what out?” Suspicion simmered in his thoughts, but he wanted her to verbalize it. It would feel truer that way.   
“That I want to make what happened between us last time up to you. I like you, and I want to be with you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.   
The admission was a temporary flash of sobriety. “We don’t know each other that well. I could be a pig.”  
“I thought about that.” Her smile returned. “Enough to realize that this is what I want, with you.”  
Hypertension’s pulse picked up. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  
“Why not? I could be good to you. Even better than this.” She waved a paw at the table and silk flowers.   
He took another drink before he fully realized his paw had lifted the glass to his lips again. “You said you were tipsy.” The lingering contact between her paw and his body was making him more physically uncomfortable, the spandex trapping a growing erection.   
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to have regrets.”  
“How do you know?”   
“I’ve done this before. If I can’t have a stable relationship because I’m a heroine, I at least want to have some fun.” A lock of blonde brushed his shoulder when she leaned closer. “Haven’t you ever felt the same way?”  
The booze made him more honest than he would have been otherwise. “Sometimes.”  
“Then why not with me?” Her breath tickled his ear.   
Hypertension could feel himself beginning to weaken. “Because it would be taking advantage of a drunk femme. I can’t do that.” His head was beginning to feel like a balloon released to fly away.  
“I have news for you.” Her paw massaged his leg. “You’re drunk too. That stuff from Russia’s extra potent, and it has an aphrodisiac in it.”  
“Oh God.” She was dangerously close to touching the fruits of her labor, and he squirmed. “You drugged me too?”  
“You’re saying it like you’re going to die.” He could almost feel her lips against the tender flesh of his ear. “I would never do something like that.”  
“How many other guys have you done this to?” His own voice dropped. “Why would you do it in the first place?”  
“Can’t a girl be lonely and desperate?” There was a genuine pout in her reply. “Aren’t you attracted to me?”  
“Yes. But you shouldn’t, you can’t drug males and expect them to want you.”  
She pulled back. Genuine hurt and confusion rippled across her expression. “I thought you’d appreciate that I’d like to be with you. There are no strings attached, in case you’re wondering.”  
“That isn’t it.”   
“Then what is it?” She wriggled her shoulders, giving him a flash of breast as her top slipped lower. Under her soft fur, he saw hardened nipples, and another urge to reach for her breasts slithered through him. That other smell under the perfume, she must be in heat.   
“I’d be flattered if you went to all of this trouble if you’d just told me from the beginning.”  
“I’m telling you now,” she argued. “I want to make the other night up to you. If you’d been tasered instead of me…”  
His mouth worked before he could think of what he was saying. “If it wasn’t for all of that other stuff, would you still be doing this?”  
Pirate Queen’s eyes met his. “Yes.”  
“Then…” Hypertension swallowed. She didn’t seem to be lying.  
“I really do like what I know about you,” she murmured. Her tone lowered again, sultry and soft. “I want to know more. Is that okay? Don’t look at it like you’re taking advantage of me.”  
The serval mix considered his options. She’s pretty and really seems to like me. “Will you drug me again if I give you the wrong answer? If we do this again?”  
“No.”  
The chemicals in his blood decided him. “Then, all right, it’s fine.”  
“You’d like to--?” She started to lean close again.  
“Yeah.”  
That was all she needed. Pirate Queen brushed her lips against his, inviting him to reciprocate. She tasted like the alcohol, but something else too, something vaguely fruity. Probably lip gloss. He tried to push aside the tension in his muscles, ignore the way his heart beat furiously, and open himself to her.  
Feeling him start to respond, the bunny-leopard brushed his bottom lip with her tongue. The gesture startled a sharp breath from him, but Hypertension allowed her in, whimpering quietly when she entered. Her tongue pushed against his, seeking it out, and then her digits brushed something more substantial lower down.  
Hypertension arched.  
Pirate Queen broke the kiss. “Is this for me?” Her digits roamed his length, caressing all the way out, and his breath caught. Femmes he’d been with before tended not to talk during sex, and the whole production had felt awkward, forced. Maybe it was what she’d slipped in his glass, maybe it had been too long since he’d had something besides his own right paw for comfort, but everything she was doing was serving as a huge, unexpected turn-on.   
“Yes.” Intense need pounded in his veins.   
“So I get to play with it?”   
He nodded.   
“All right.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Push the chair back.”  
Something in her tone was almost commanding, and he hurried to obey. Her body pressed against his in another kiss shorter than the last, and then she was in his lap, settling so their bodies could align.  
She’s soaked already, he realized as soon as she was settled. Her breasts were inches from him, an unwritten invitation, and he started to reach for them before he made himself stop.  
“Can I…?”  
Pirate Queen didn’t answer. Her paws grabbed his, placing them against the soft mounds. He squeezed, remembering her own words about experimentation. It was her turn to arch, head tipping back with a moan.  
“Harder.” Her paws went on top of his again to guide his digits. Hypertension was more than willing to be a good student and he followed her instructions, feeling her nipples harden into pebbles.  
“You’re good at this,” she breathed. Her hips began to rock against his, thin material, heat and moisture brushing against him. Automatically, his paws shifted down to her hips, rubbing and stroking as he tried to keep her in place.  
Pirate Queen bit her lip at the feel of him pressed against her. He didn’t feel gigantic compared to his overall body size, but he certainly wasn’t compensating as she’d feared, either. When he grew more daring in his groping, grabbing her round lower cheeks, she couldn’t suppress a needy cry. His mouth followed, hot against her neck. She rewarded his initiative by grinding harder.  
Hypertension kissed his way down, enjoying hearing the noises each touch produced. Giving the flesh between his digits a harder squeeze, he dropped to her breasts, pushing clothing aside and ferreted out more sensitive territory with his tongue.  
“God.” She could feel another orgasm creeping up, and tangled her digits through his fur. To her surprise, he didn’t use gel or any other crap males seemed to be so fond of, keeping it short and natural. “Don’t stop.”  
He swirled the tip of his tongue around her nipple, trying to maneuver so he could move the material away from something else of even greater interest. She hurried to help him, awkward as she raised her hips. His digits moved the costume aside, brushed across the bundle of nerves that had been pressed against his penis, and slid inside.  
She had expected him to be rough with his entrance; males had a tendency to forget when they were excited that femmes were more than just a place to stuff themselves. Yet he was gentle, moving with care, and when he brushed his thumb across her, it was all she could do not to finish then and there.  
“Is that what you wanted?” he asked against her fur. He tipped his head up, taking in the sight of her, drinking in the way her private inner heartbeat tapped against his digits.   
“Mmm,” she allowed.   
“Would you like me to help you?” He paused in his ministrations, stroking her clitoris in steady circles.  
“I—I told you not to stop,” she panted.   
“I’m not.”  
All at once, his thumb pushed harder while his other digits thrust inside. Pirate Queen moaned sharply as he found her G-spot.   
“I’m going to come,” she breathed. Stars swam in the back of her head. The only thing better than his digits would be his member, his mouth on hers as he took her.   
Hypertension felt her muscles give him a harder squeeze. This already feels amazing, and these are just my digits. He thrust up into her again to help tip her over the edge. Wonder what she’ll feel like when she lets me—  
His thoughts were interrupted by her loud cry. An abrupt rush of warm fluids drenched his paw, and the smell of a femme in heat, more potent than any drink, blinded him to anything else in the room. It took him a moment to realize her body had sagged against him, chest pressed to his.  
“HT.” His name emerged in a heavy breath against his shoulder. Post-orgasm bliss clouded her thoughts, weighing her body down. She gave his digits a few last, final squeezes. Somehow, the power had shifted, traveling from her to him, but swimming in this sensation, she couldn’t say she minded. It had come on stronger, better, than what she could do herself, toys included. “That—That was amazing.”  
“I thought we were just getting started.”   
Pirate Queen sat up unsteadily. “We are.” Her hair was a disheveled mess and without thinking, he brushed some of it out of her eyes. She smiled at the gesture. “I made sure to buy condoms too.”  
“Do you want to move to the bed?” The chair was biting into his lower back and now that the high of making her orgasm was fading, his injured knee was beginning to throb. At her nod, he started to help her down. Her thigh brushed his legs.  
“Ah!”  
“What’s wrong?” Standing up, Pirate Queen froze. “Did I hurt you?”  
Hypertension made a dry sound. “I should be asking you that. No, it’s just the knee again.”  
“Oh. Sorry.” She winced. “Maybe we should have taken this to the bed in the first place.”  
He shook his head. “It would have been less spontaneous that way.” And he was beginning to see just how much he enjoyed unplanned sex. “It’s okay.”  
“If you’re sure…”  
“I am. What are you doing?”  
Pirate Queen had extended her paws to him. By then, her outfit had fallen halfway down her body, and he could see the places on her fur where his mouth had been. To his gratification, she still appeared turned on.   
“I’m helping you up.” She quirked a brow at him. “Don’t tell me a big, strong he-fur like you can’t stand needing a little femme’s help.”  
The feline couldn’t stop a disbelieving laugh. “I can get up by myself.”   
“Okay,” she drawled. “If we were just talking about your dick, I’d believe you. But don’t be surprised if your knee can’t--.”  
“Jesus!” He hissed as his leg threatened to buckle and he reached down to massage his kneecap.  
“Told you.” At least she didn’t sound too smug about being right.  
Hypertension sighed and accepted her paws when she held them out again. The female guided him across the room and to the bed, where she turned to have him face it.  
It was time for her to take control of the situation again.  
“Lay down on your back,” she instructed.   
“Wha--.”  
“I know how to take stress off your knee.” Pirate Queen gave him a peck on the lips. “Just try it. I want to be on top so you won’t have to kneel and take me from behind.” She put her paws on his shoulders and pushed. “Go on.”  
Again needing to be obedient, Hypertension moved to get on the bed and stretch out. “What about my clothes?”  
She approached the edge of the bed and reached down into the pot the faux flowers were in. Her paw reemerged with a foil packet between her digits. “Everything would need to come off.”  
“Everything?”  
“Even these.” She pointed to her mask. “And I’m not sure either of us wants to do that. So, I’m just going to take the bottoms off and put the condom on.”  
“Couldn’t we just leave the masks on and take everything else off?”  
She smirked. “It’s all or nothing when it comes to that, HT.” She raised the packet to her mouth and carefully tore off the perforated top. “If this is just a one-night stand, we shouldn’t risk our identities.”  
He breathed out. His heart felt like it wanted to break free and jump out at the sight of her opening the condom. “You—You’re right.”  
The bedsprings creaked when she joined him. Walking closer on her knees, she teasingly hooked her digits into the waistband of his pants. “I think I’m going to like seeing what you’re keeping in here,” she purred, licking her lips. She positioned herself so she was straddling his thighs, then started pulling them off.  
His heart gave another start. Cool air hit his fur, inch by inch. His pants were discarded, a flash of color against white hotel walls to land in the oblivion past the edge of the bed.   
“Ohh,” Pirate Queen cooed. “What do we have here?”  
His member felt hot leaning against his abdomen, and the heat traveled up to his cheeks. “I guess I liked what I was having before,” he managed, looking up at her. Her gaze was riveted to his body. A drip of fluid oozed from his tip and he gave another squirm. “I’ve never been with another femme like you.”  
“And I’m one of a kind.” Hypertension heard the crinkle of foil and the condom slipped out, held between her digit-tips. “I bought the ‘barely-there’ ribbed condoms. Different sizes, just to make sure. This one should fit.”  
He made a reach for it. “I can put it on.”  
“I got it.” She leaned over him. Slowly, digits wrapped around his length to give it a gentle squeeze. The other hero gasped. He hoped she would keep stroking him, but latex slid around him instead, and she rolled it on with the skill of someone who had done it for boyfriends in the past. When she moved her paws, he picked his head up to confirm that she’d done it properly.  
Pirate Queen caught that. “What? I can put a condom on right. Just because I don’t have a penis doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”  
“I know, but I wanted to make sure.”  
“We’re fine.” She slid up, taking him in one paw and shifting to position herself. “Are you ready?”  
Even with latex in the way, he could feel the same moisture that had wrapped around his digits before. He nodded, and his partner lowered herself onto him in one fluid, engulfing motion.   
Both moaned as one as he slid in as far as he could go. She was incredibly tight, surrounding him perfectly. A ripple of muscles made him shudder. She was panting again and the fear that maybe he’d been too much to take and their needing to stop flitted through his mind.  
“You’re big.” Her first words were coupled with a wince. It had been awhile since she’d properly taken a male on, and her body protested with a bittersweet ache.   
“Is—Is it too much?”  
Her hips moved in answer. If she kept going, the tension would ease, and they could both begin to truly enjoy themselves. To speed the process along, she reached down and began rubbing herself on top of him. Through it, she caught his eyes begin to glaze. He didn’t ask any more questions as she worked herself up, breath coming quicker, eyes closing in pleasure. He waited for her to begin to move, and when she did, it was faster and harder than he anticipated. When he tried to push up inside, her paw reached down to squeeze his hip, warning him without words that this was something that she wanted to do for herself.  
He propped his head against a pillow and laid back to enjoy the show.  
Her digits moved faster, then shifted down to brush him through the condom. Her body alternated with open air, tension mingling with relaxation. Pirate Queen began bouncing on top of him, driving him in.  
“God, I wanted this,” she said, splaying her paws out over his chest. “I wanted you inside.”  
“You—You wanted me to take you?” The room was blurring at the edges and his ears were buzzing the faster she went, but he grabbed her hips again, unable to help himself now. Each time she impaled herself onto him, he saw himself disappearing into her, joining with her in a way he hadn’t thought possible.   
“Yes.” She had to be more suited to his body than the other girls he’d slept with too. Otherwise, there could be no way he could approach his climax so fast, so fast it began roaring in his ears.   
“Pirate Queen--.”  
Her digits wrapped around his base. Lifting herself up off of him just enough so that only his tip remained inside, she alternated between stroking him and engulfing him. His body began to tremble. She was teasing him, letting him dance on the knife-edge between wanting more and utter completion.  
“Please.” He’d never begged a femme before tonight for release. “Please let me come.”  
She pushed him inside again, quick, sudden. Perfect.  
He gave a ragged scream, arching his back to sheath himself as much as he could into that delicious sensation. Molten threads pulled from his navel down, exiting to empty out into the condom. Hypertension’s breath hitched and the strength drained from him. Feeling weak, he collapsed into a tired, sweaty heap back into the pillows again.   
On top of him, Pirate Queen brushed a paw over her face to look down at her handiwork, an equally weary smile on her face. “Did--Did I do okay?”  
“Okay?” Words didn’t reach from his brain to his mouth easily. “You, you were, damn, Pirate Queen.”  
“Damn? I’ll take that as a compliment.” He breathed out at another burst of cold when she moved up to let him slide out. She made short work of the condom, gathering it up and removing it to wrap it in a tissue and throw it into the wastebasket.  
Then she stretched out beside him. He half-turned his head in time to receive another kiss.   
“Are you going to call that cab soon?” The light in the room accentuated the curves of her hips and back.   
“No.” He didn’t move away when she curled closer, cheek brushing his chest. “I’ll stay here until tomorrow morning. I think my knee hurts too much.”  
Another smirk curved Pirate Queen’s lips. “Liar.”  
\*\*\*  
Her stomach rolled at the smell of metal invading her nostrils. It was everywhere, cold under her back, cruel around her ankles and wrists, digging into her skin. A thin paper gown kept her from total nudity, but it didn’t stop some of the attendants from sometimes groping a breast or making suggestions of other things they wanted to do to her when the cameras were turned off for the night. She was sure the open sores on her legs were weeping; she could feel the pus slipping down her calves. Her eyes and throat ached from screaming for help, crying for someone to unchain her. It was useless when everything was muffled by the steel walls.  
She wondered if, when she was going to die.  
Sometimes when she slept, she dreamed of the warm summer days of her cubhood and the taste of popsicles across her parched tongue. They gave her just enough water and food to stay alive, and all of it was bland. She’d lost so much weight since she was brought to the facility that she could see the shadows of her own ribcage against what passed for her clothing and yesterday—or had it been the day before now—she’d overheard one of the attendants grumbling that he needed to tighten her manacles or her bony ankles and wrists would be able to slip right out.  
She flexed her digits. Above her head, a bag of suspended fluid hung on a stand, an IV line feeding God-knew-what into her veins. It was supposed to have some sort of effect on her, although she didn’t know exactly what it was supposed to be. The so-called ‘Dr.’ Armand Vester was getting pissier by the day that whatever he was trying wasn’t working.   
Harsh white light beat against Laura’s eyelids when she closed them. Her body had eaten most of her former muscle mass to compensate for the lack of calories. If she hadn’t been injected with a sedative, she would have easily have gotten away from the wolf and his cronies.  
But her father, the bastard, had known that.   
Snatches of half-dreams floated through her mind. His study had always smelled of lemon furniture polish and old books, the way her mother always smelled like clouds of lilies and sunflowers. Hector Ramsey was constantly away running his clinic, the picture of a busy, admired doctor with many patients, while his wife Marianne Martinez O’Malley-Ramsey was the clear head of her household. She ran it with an iron paw, attractive even in her later years. She had little time for cubs, and she wondered if there had ever been a day where the pair had really wanted offspring.  
She regretted that she looked anything like either of them.  
When she’d been younger, there were so many little signs she’d missed—the way they had never wanted for money, the way her father had visitors in suits long after most decent furs would come calling. The phone was ringing, night after night, and while bearing a cub had supposedly ‘ruined her figure’ for crimefighting, the elder femme often disappeared into the night in costume to do things she would say nothing about.  
For her part, Laura had been busy, first with any toy and gadget she’d wanted, then with school and making friends and flirting with males as she entered her teenage years. Martial arts classes and girl scouts broke up the monotony of never having much to do, but she felt perpetually bored. While other femmes her age had families that took them shopping or helped them bake cupcakes for the school bake sale, hers were absent, and it left a hollow in her gut. Maybe that was why she’d entered those streetfighting tournaments after she’d graduated from school.  
Now, a few years later and lying close to death, Laura O’Malley had to shake her head at herself.  
Her younger self had seen nothing but the action and excitement, males circling each other to look for openings to kick and punch. She still recalled the way dollars and coins had clinked to asphalt, ripe for the victor to scoop them up. Furs crowded together, shouted and swore. It wasn’t really the place for her, and the first time she’d gone, a niggling little feeling inside warned her to turn back. But she hadn’t. She’d gone right up to the snaggle-toothed leopard taking names and cooking the betting books and demanded to be put on the roster, ignoring the way he’d laughed in her face and added her in just ‘to see what she could do.’  
What she had ended up doing was nothing short of amazing. Her first match had been three times her size, a male that worked out and knew kung-fu, and somehow, she’d outmaneuvered him and managed to draw first blood. Back then, she’d relied more on her wits and martial arts skills than strength, but it had been enough for that first fight, and the one after that.  
She’d stepped out to towel the sweat from her hair when a paw had clapped over her mouth. Something sour had filled her nose, and the ring faded away. When she woke hours later with a pounding headache, she knew she had to get away from the rough furs on the other side of the warehouse that were talking in low voices about ransom money and the best way to slit her throat if they didn’t get it from Dr. Ramsey by midnight.  
By eleven-thirty, she’d managed to slip out of the rope tying her ankles and wrists together and fifteen minutes later, she’d slipped out one of the windows. She still remembered the color of her shoes, the stupid little pink scrunchie she wore around her wrist and never put in her hair. She remembered the smell of the furs smoking on the corner when she ran past them and the glow of broken streetlights flickering with their half-smashed bulbs.   
She remembered the way that changed to the smell of chemicals when she ducked through that unlocked white door, out of breath. The face of her wrist-watch glowed when she pressed the little button on the side to see what time it was in the dark. Twelve-thirty. They had to have noticed she was missing by then. They had to be getting into the cars she’d seen parked outside to come looking for her.  
In the end, she didn’t know how they’d found her. Her memory was blank in some places to this day; the doctors and specialists that had talked to and looked her over afterwards suspected the events of that day might never come back.  
She wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.  
The feel of their paws grabbing her arms and legs, beating her around the head, still remained clear as a bell. The feel of a broken nose after she bit one of them, the way her mouth filled with blood, had been nightmarish enough—she recollected spitting a tooth from the back of her mouth out in an attempt to clear her mouth to scream again. The thugs had picked her up like a bunch of flowers, tied something over her eyes, and carried her away from the corner they found her in.  
Hot tears pooled and slipped under Laura’s lids. Her parents had never paid the ransom, never made the effort. That was the last thing she’d heard before something so caustic it burned the inside of her nose crossed her awareness and the sensation of free-fall wrenched a howl out of her chest and into her throat.  
Then, the burning came. Bubbles rushed past her ears. Fluid raced to cover every square inch of her skin, soaking her clothes. When she opened her mouth again, it flooded into her lungs. Reflexively, she tried to kick and paddle the way her swimming instructor had showed her during her lessons, but whatever she’d been dumped into was thick and viscous.  
She hadn’t reached the surface before blacking out.  
Later, she learned the police had fished her out, taken her to Colmaton General, had followed up with her parents. Her mother wept, saying she had no idea the kidnappers had been serious while she stroked her daughter’s hair. Her father sat beside her, saying nothing as he held her paw, careful not to squeeze where the bruises bloomed close to her IV lines.  
She’d never been punished for participating in the fighting. She’d returned to a normal life after several weeks, where the other femmes she used to go to school with made a fuss over her, asked her if there were any hot doctors in the hospitals, offered to buy her lunch. They all felt so sorry for her.  
One of the girls had bought her steak from a restaurant one of those afternoons. It had been overcooked and tough, and the little plastic knife hadn’t been enough to saw through it. While she was trying to cut it, the knife slipped, grazing the side of her paw. The girl who had bought it for her squealed a sorry, snatching for a napkin. Laura waved away the apology, taking it to wipe away the thin line of blood.  
There was no cut underneath.   
Another time, she fell trying to get into the new SUV her parents purchased for her birthday, missed the step up, and scraped her knee. No sooner had she hobbled back to the house to get some disinfectant than the graze was gone. She also became prone to weird headaches and blurred vision, but when they cleared up, she swore she could see things down at the end of her street as clearly as if they were right beside her.   
“It must have been those chemicals,” the family doctor shrugged to her mother when the test results on her blood came back from the lab. “I can’t think of any other explanation.”  
Sitting on the table, Laura watched her mother’s face tighten. She could almost see her thoughts.  
I have a freak for a daughter.   
Her father, flanking her as he was wont to do, said nothing.  
After that day, her once-distant mother became all the harder to reach. She took to hanging around her father’s study, but she could tell that he hardly tolerated it, burying himself in papers and his computer before making up excuses that he was too busy to talk.  
It had been a Sunday during the summer when she’d woke up feeling odd. Not physically, but mentally, as if something was hanging in the air. Unable to put a digit on what, she’d showered and dressed, going about her normal business. Her friend Leona had called, wanting to know if she was interested in seeing the latest romance-comedy that was just released. She hadn’t been, but had gone anyway just to get out of the house.  
It was dark by the time Leona dropped her off and she opened her front door.  
“Hello?” The kitchen was empty when she flopped her purse on the table. Usually there was a housekeeper at the stove, making something for breakfast tomorrow or something to nibble on.  
Muffled voices came from elsewhere in the house.  
“…care what you thought!” It was rare for her controlled, stoic father to sound so angry. “I wanted my damned money last month, and I’m getting it if I have to put a hit out on your wife!”  
Laura’s heart jumped up into her throat. Someone answered him, sounding meek and frightened. She didn’t know why she didn’t go up to her room, mind her own business, but she crossed the house to the side where his study was.  
A hit? Wasn’t that what mobsters did?  
“I, I swear, Dr. Ramsey, I’ll have it. Kara’s bills were due and I had to pay--,” another fur whimpered.  
“It’s cancer. She’ll be dead in a month. Now, go to the fucking bank and get me my money.” Something clicked.  
Laura peered through the crack in the study door. Her father was standing behind his desk. A fur, a young Collie she recognized as someone who had stopped by to talk about his daughter’s sickness a few weeks ago, had his paws held up in front of him. Dr. Ramsey stepped towards him, an ugly look Laura had never seen before on his face.   
“I can’t—,” the other fur began.  
There was a brief explosion. Time stopped.  
Laura felt a scream wanting to come out as the Collie slumped to the floor, but it was locked in her chest. The red of his blood soaked into the Persian rug her father had paid so much for.  
And his eyes were on her. Laura’s mind sputtered to the conclusion that he might shoot her too, but he lowered the gun, snapped the safety in place, and put it in his desk.  
“You saw everything.” His voice was heavy and thoughtful.   
“D-Daddy…”  
“Go to your room, Laura.” Over the metallic tang of blood, the smell of rotten lemons was unmistakable.  
“Where’s Mom?” she whispered.  
“Out. Go to your room.”  
She swallowed gravel and nodded. Her father was a murderer. He’d just killed one of his patients’ relatives. She had no idea how she’d made it to her bed without collapsing, but once she had, she buried her head in her pillow and sobbed her eyes out. Time began to move normally again by the time they came, her father’s suited friends who used to come in the night. She assumed that they helped him clean up the body of that poor fur and fabricate a story to the police, too.  
That same sour smell had been pressed by another cloth into her nose after they’d burst into her room. Again, she’d blacked out and woken again with a terrible headache. Now, here she was, set up by her own blood. Everything, from her kidnapping to this, had been staged. On top of it all, she had no answers as to why, except for one possibility that kept haunting her.  
Even if I hadn’t seen him shoot somebody, would he have eventually tried to kill me again anyway?  
The tears came faster, sliding down her cheeks.  
“Hello, Miss O’Malley.” The door down by her feet opened and a nurse came in, wheeling a cart. “Dr. Vester has something special for you today.”  
Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “An overdose of sedative?”  
“No.” The nurse smiled pleasantly at her sarcasm. “We’re going to take that filthy gown off and run a little test.” Cold scissors were lowered to her neck. Several snips, and her body was bared to the harsh overhead lamp.  
“That’s better.” A razor was next, sweeping a few times across her fur to expose naked skin.  
“Wh-What are you doing?” the captive gasped.  
“Relax, dear. Dr. Vester said this will be over with quickly.” Something cold was spread on the bare patches. A suction cup was attached. One, two, three, four, all across her chest. Wires brushed against what hadn’t been shaved away.  
“Is she nearly ready, Candy?” The bulkier frame of Dr. Vester filled the doorway. On seeing his patient, he smiled. “Splendid, Dr. Ramsey should be pleased by this. Turn it on, Candy. I have to record the results. Hopefully they’ll go better than the acid test.”  
“Turn what on?” Laura’s throat began to close with fear. She hated Vester, despised him with every particle of her person, but more immediate concerns overrode the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.  
“Nothing, sweetheart.” The nurse answered for her superior, both moving to stand by her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what looked to be a box. More metal.   
Another click reminded her of her father’s pistol being cocked. A needle gauged the amount of charge that started to be fed to the electrodes attached to the hybrid’s skin.  
Then her emaciated frame began to rock with pain as Vester started to electrocute her.  
\*\*\*  
Nothing in Hypertension’s training prepared him for the burning fiery streaks that suddenly shot into his skin from behind. He woke with a yowl, kicking and struggling to push himself away. His claws extended as something that was wrapped around his ankles and torso restricted to keep him captive.  
Fighting against its hold, he struggled to sit up. The world tilted as he pulled at whatever it was, hearing material shred. The sound of it, loud in the silence, jarred his brain to begin working properly. There was no villain standing over him. He was safe. And the diabolical thing ensnaring him was--  
Sheets. Just sheets. He was in a bed. A lamp off to his side had been left on, casting weak light across its plains and valleys. He reached down to further free himself, cringing at the shreds of white that dotted the mattress. These weren’t his sheets and the bed was too big. He’d destroyed the hotel’s things. Shit. They were expensive too, more than he could afford to spend on one set for himself.   
He wondered how much management was going to tack their bill on for those.  
He ran a paw through his sweaty fur and sniffed at the smell still hanging heavy in the air. Sex. His paw slid down to grind into one sleepy eye. Right. He was still naked from the waist down, half-hard from the remains of the pleasant dream that had echoed his earlier reality.   
He turned to look at the figure lying sprawled next to him. He’d expected Pirate Queen to wake at the commotion but the other fur was still asleep, brow furrowed and expression carved with shadows as she dreamed. Her breasts heaved with hitched breaths and his gaze drifted over their perfection. The erotic tingle of whatever she’d slipped him still lived in his blood and heat rushed to his cheeks. He’d behaved like a feral beast. They both had.  
Hypertension gave his shoulders an experimental roll and winced at the feel of blood making runnels through his fur. What the hell stabbed me? He’d have to get up and see what the hotel bathroom had in the way of a first aid kit. He’d just started to push off the bed, careful not to wake his partner, when she twisted in her sleep with a moan.  
As he watched, Pirate Queen began to thrash and twitch. Her paws lashed out. More Egyptian cotton ripped. Swearing under his breath, he hurried to the bed to grab her wrists as two and two made four.  
“Hey!” He narrowly avoided getting clawed but was pulled down when she tried to struggle out of his hold. “Pirate Queen! Hey!”  
Under him, she whimpered. Her eyes jumped under their lids. He gave her another shake, cursing as she almost tore free. “Wake up!”  
It was more her nightmare than him that finally woke her. The heroine’s eyes flew open with a gasp and he instantly let go. They were large and crazed in her sockets, spiderwebbed with inflamed veins.  
“Pirate Queen.” Hypertension repeated it softer, daring to get close to the bed again. “Are you okay?”  
Her paws had balled into fists, taking clots torn sheets with them. “Oh, God.” She looked much the way he imagined he had, dazed, hair a knotted halo around her head. “God, I--.” She blinked at him, taking him in as if for the first time. She put a hand to her chest, trying to even out her breathing. “I, I had a nightmare.”  
“Yeah.” He felt more blood bead at his punctures.   
“Did I wake you up?” She let go of the sheets and groaned when she saw the dark holes yawning in them. “Dammit, these had to have cost hundreds of dollars.”  
“We’ll worry about them when we check out. I did the same thing, so I’ll pay for half of it.”   
She nodded, pushing herself to sit up. “They have to start making shred-proof sheets.”  
“Do you want to talk about that dream?” She looked small and vulnerable, nested in what was left of their bed. Pirate Queen licked her lips.   
“It’s personal,” she said after a long stretch of silence.  
“I understand. I have to go to the bathroom.” He turned and started to walk away. The wounds were beginning to seethe and itch.   
“Oh God, your back!” He half-turned to catch her eyes widen. So the spots of blood had to be obvious even in bad light. Great.  
“It’s nothing.” A split second after he shrugged, he drew in a tight breath. “I’ve had a lot worse.”  
“I did that. I’m sorry, I don’t normally--.”  
“I just need to clean them out.” Hypertension gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”  
He heard bedsprings creak. “I’ll help.”  
The serval mix sighed through his nose. He couldn’t possibly get all of the wounds himself. “All right.”  
The bathroom was small and both of them in it together made it cramped. He opened the tiny medicine cabinet over the sink and rifled past travel toothpaste and mouthwash, making a sound of triumph when he found a rectangular box with a red cross on it. Pirate Queen held out a paw for it and he gave it over, mouth twisting in a dry smile.  
“What is it?” The blonde cocked an eyebrow at him.   
“I was thinking this is the first time I’ve needed a first aid kit after sex.”  
She tried to smile back, but it didn’t reach her haunted eyes. “Come sit on the bed and take your shirt off. I want to make sure they’re cleaned out.”  
A few minutes later, they were both perched on it, she sitting behind him with the kit open at his side. He tried to focus on a point on the wall while she opened it, taking out a bottle of peroxide and cotton balls. Liquid from the bottle sloshed into the little white puff.  
“Are you—Ow!” Hypertension growled between his teeth.  
“Sorry,” Pirate Queen pressed it against one of the holes, pink suffusing through it. “I have to make sure they’re cleaned out.”  
He retrained his focus on the point before speaking again. “I was going to ask if you’re going to try to go back to sleep sometime tonight.”  
“Not for awhile.” He felt her shrug.   
“Do you always get nightmares that are that…” He searched for the proper word, very aware of her paws on his back, “…animated?”  
“Sometimes.” A guarded note slipped into her answer. “I like to stay up and watch TV when I’m home alone.”  
“Oh.” He let the silence stretch between them, every so often sucking air when she pressed too hard. When she spoke again, it was low and angry.  
“My father was a real dick.”  
Hypertension made a soft sound that was half questioning. He didn’t want to press.  
“Yeah.” She dabbed at the top of his shoulder. “I, uh, told you earlier that I have powers so I might as well use them.”  
“You did.”  
Pirate Queen sighed. “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be as strong as I am now.”  
“What do you mean?” Hypertension couldn’t help his curiosity at that, trying to look back at her again before she gave the back of his neck a light flick with her digits.  
“Don’t move around so much. And it sounds like what I said. When I was younger…”   
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he cut in.  
“I want to. This—I haven’t told this to too many people. My therapist not withstanding.”  
“Then why are you telling me?”  
“I trust you,” she replied simply. “I know it’s not like we’re best friends, but maybe it’s time I let some of this off my chest. When I was a cub, my dad arranged to have me kidnapped while I was out one day.”  
“He…” Hypertension’s brain screeched to a stop. “What?”  
“He had me kidnapped. I didn’t know it at the time, but he arranged everything. I was fighting in street tournaments and he knew where they were being held, so he sent some of his ‘friends’ out to make sure I got chased into a lab a few blocks away.”  
“Why a lab?”  
“He wanted to have me dumped into a chemical vat.” The last words came out strangled as her throat threatened to close up around them, lock them away and ensure they could never get out. Her eyes blurred out of focus, her lungs feeling the phantom searing of chemicals flooding in. She had to push to keep speaking. “The cops found me and got me out, back when they were good for something. I went to the hospital and that whole time, he stayed next to my bed like he didn’t do a fucking thing.”  
Hypertension swallowed. He kept himself very still as anger began to mount. They’d only just met, but the thought of her head disappearing under liquid, the idea that she had to be terrified and that her own family would do such a thing, enraged him. “I’m sorry,” was all he could pluck out of the air to say, voice hard.  
“It’s nothing you did. Those chemicals, they changed me.” Pirate Queen opened the kit’s compartment for band-aids. The plastic strips to keep them sterile fluttered to the bed. “I started to see better, hear better, move faster. Those things really interested my dad. I didn’t know it at the time, that he orchestrated it. I was too busy being his little girl and buying into his bullshit ‘I love you,’ act.” Her story had fallen into a steady, determined rhythm, almost as if she’d rehearsed it. “But it got worse.”  
A disbelieving sound worked its way from him. “How could it get worse?” She was applying the band-aids. The sticky patches stuck to his fur and he imagined they wouldn’t last long.  
“He was a crime boss, my dad. My mom was in on it too, but that was another thing I found out later. I grew up in a rich family, but I was too naïve to see it was because they screwed people out of their cash. He arranged that kidnapping as a cover story for the authorities; the reality was that he knew what those chemicals would do and offered some thugs money to dump me in. The irony being, he later fucked them out of said money and called the cops to bring them in.”  
“But what if his plan hadn’t gone right and you drowned?”   
“He wouldn’t have cared. He and my mother would have adopted some poor cub from a third-world nation and done whatever they wanted to them,” she muttered.  
“I don’t know who would have signed adoption papers such a son of a bitch.”  
“Money can open a lot of doors. A hell of a lot of doors, even when it hurts other people.” Pirate Queen’s voice turned sad. “He had me brought to another lab a few years later when I saw him kill one of his patients right in our house. I don’t know how he got out of that one. He had the body dumped, then hired more of his henchfurs to break into my room and take me to another lab.”  
“Jesus.”  
“If he gets caught, I’m sure he can just pay off a lawyer to represent him. Anyway, I was chloroformed and woke up strapped to a table.” The bunny-leopard finished with applying the plasters. The kit snapped shut. “He’d hired a guy named Dr. Armand Vester. He is—was—a lot like my dad. He worked with him sometimes, and he told him about my superpowers. Vester couldn’t wait to get his paws on me.”  
“Please tell me you kicked his ass.” Hypertension scooted back on the bed to sit beside her properly.   
“I wish I had.” To his surprise, she reached for his paw and held it, a thumb stroking nervously over his knuckles. “They made sure I couldn’t break the straps. In the beginning, it was all Vester doing the tests, recording the results, but after a couple days, here comes my dad, smiling a shit-eating grin and asking how his little girl is doing.”  
His heart beat hard and strong behind his eyes as Hypertension tensed. “He’d better hope I never see him anywhere on the streets, because I won’t be calling the cops.”  
Pirate Queen snorted. “He’s probably left Colmaton. I went through hell in that lab. He wanted to see how much I could take, because the more I could bounce back from, the more fights he could shove me in. And that means…” She stopped to let him fill in the blank.  
“More money,” he finished.  
“You got it. So after they were done violating me, using me, figuring out how I ticked, I waited until they were out to get through the straps one night.” Memories came in flashes, the lights of security cameras following her broken, shaking body as she stumbled and cried, the blaring of alarms when she threw herself at doors. Finally, just as she was sure she would collapse, she found a window. The tumble to the ground had broken an arm, but she made herself get up, run out to the streets, scream hysterically for help. Then, unconsciousness had had mercy on her.  
“I woke up inside an old rabbit’s house, on her sofa.” The way the house had smelled like lavender, the old bunny’s concerned touches, came back and made her smile. “I asked her not to call the police or my parents. I told her my name. I was too out of it at the time, but thinking back, she was too nice and understanding to be a random fur I met on the street. She made sure I started to get strong again, and recommended the name of a good therapist.” Pirate Queen looked sideways at Hypertension. “She was even more pissed off about my father than you are.”  
He grunted. “What do you mean, ‘she was too nice to be a random fur’?”  
“She was my grandma.”  
“You found—How--?”  
The femme smiled at his confusion. “She’s my mom’s mom and was the original Pirate Queen. Mom was the second one, before she started acting like Dad’s little puppet. I’m actually the third one in line.”  
Hypertension looked down at his own suit. “I feel suddenly…impotent. I’m Hypertension the First and Only.”  
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Mom and Dad estranged me from my grandma when I was little, too little to remember, but there she was. She knew me right away, but thought I was too battered to handle a family chat right then. Instead, when I was strong again, she showed me her old costume and gadgets and let me use a few. She told me I had to make a choice—either go home to my parents and cope with their shit until I could afford my own place, or stop with the street tournaments and take a stand as the third Pirate Queen.”  
“It must have been hard to fight your own mother,” Hypertension rejoined.  
“I don’t look at her like my mother anymore. I call her that out loud, but that’s just a blood tie that I can’t get rid of no matter what I do.”  
He squeezed the paw in his. “Well, for what it’s worth, and I know it’s not much, I’m sorry you went through all of that bullshit.”  
She squeezed back. “Thanks. Uh, I wanted to ask.”  
“What?”  
“Do you work out?”  
He goggled at her with a startled laugh. “Yeah, over at Muscle Marv’s.”  
“The one on Tenth Avenue?”  
“That’s the one.” He felt a sense of relief now that the conversation had shifted to lighter topics. “Okay, it’s my turn to ask you something.”  
“What’s that?”  
“What’s your real name?” It was a risk, but after everything, his interest in her, all of her beyond the physical, was piqued.  
Suspicion came back in a blink. “What’s yours?”  
“You told me your life story and now your name is such a hang-up?”  
She crossed her arms. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”  
“Zaine.”  
She visibly relaxed at that. “Laura.”  
“Laura.” He weighed it in his mouth. “I like it. I was expecting something like ‘Amanda.’”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know. You look like your name could be Amanda.”  
“Yeah, right, because ‘Zaine’ is the kind of name most furs walk around with.”  
“I like being named Zaine, thanks.”  
“And I like ‘Laura,’ even if my parents were the ones to come up with it.” She stuck her tongue out at him.  
He didn’t know why that compelled him to kiss her. It was something that went beyond feeling sorry for her or anything they had shared before. He took that tongue, drawing it into his mouth, and the last of any tension she held melted into it. When the tip of his pushed against hers, her whimper made his arousal flare brighter than it had hours ago. She pushed back, entering again, and this time, the contact lingered. There was no need to hurry, no desperation.   
It was Pirate Queen who needed to breathe first, and she broke it with reluctance, resting her forehead against his. “I can’t see your eyes too good past that mask.” The sentence dipped into a lower timbre, husky in the back of her throat.   
A thrill ran through him at her tone. “Do you want it off?” This felt genuine, more like they were lovers and less like they’d come to a hotel just to talk and get off.   
“Yes.” Her paws reached up, digits moving under the strip of material. They brushed fur that had been hot since that ride over, and he breathed a sigh.   
“That’s better.” Pirate Queen ran a thumb under his eye from one corner to the other. “They’re a nice color. I like brown.”  
“Let me see yours.” Her mask was a slightly different style than his. He found the straps that held it on and made short work of them, putting it on the bed as her true face was revealed.   
“Yours are nice too.” He mimicked her gesture before giving her another kiss, then a third. “What do you want next?”  
She thought it over, murmuring something as his mouth found her neck and sucked lightly. “I think I want you to taste me while I taste you.”  
“Sixty-nine?” It was a classic he’d always appreciated.  
At her nod, he moved to position himself, stretching out on his back. He hardly felt the prickle of his wounds protesting. Pirate Queen removed the rest of her clothing, and only then did he think of his own. They discarded those over the side of the bed to join the rest, and then she positioned herself over him.  
Past her fur, he could see she was wet again, those few touches and kisses alone being enough to turn her on. She was pink inside, close to dripping when he smoothed the fur out of the way to reach up and tease her entrance. The body above him moaned and shivered.  
“Zaine, stop teasing. Put your tongue inside.”  
His real name sounded sexy when she said it. “What are you going to do if I don’t, Laura?” It was a thrill to use hers too; there was something forbidden about it that spiced up what they were doing.  
“I was thinking something like…this.”  
Heat took him in from tip to testicles. Zaine groaned at the feeling of her mouth. He knew she could feel his pulse pounding through his penis against her tongue. She had to taste his sweat. He thrust his hips up, trying to move across that softness. To her credit, she didn’t gag. Her throat felt like heated silk. Pirate Queen reached back, spreading that pinkness open for him.  
He didn’t waste time.  
Her musk was stronger against his nose and he inhaled before putting his tongue inside, pushing her open wider. There was a sweet undercurrent to the way she tasted. As she continued to milk him, he could feel his skin getting slicker with her saliva.  
He thrust inside harder, trying to egg her on. The action was greeted with a muffled squeal and she almost backed off of him.   
I wonder if I can make her squirt. He worked at it a little harder; ever since he’d been in his teens and sneaking dirty magazines from the racks, he’d heard about that. He’d never done it to a real femme. Pirate Queen moaned again and almost forgot herself under his attentions, the hot movements he made.  
That’s what he wants you to do. She added her paw to the actions of her mouth, alternating between sucking and stroking. He felt like he was getting bigger, swelling. A few salty drops of his semen worked their way down her throat. His tongue snaked in deeper and she cried out, quivering.  
Almost. Zaine smiled to himself. He lashed inside just a little more before pulling out and sucking on her clitoris. Another, louder cry and a deeper shudder greeted that. Just need to find her G-spot and—  
What the hell is he—“Ah!” Digits plunged in. His mouth stayed latched around her, and Laura’s head began to swim. Her abdomen tightened.  
Hearing that yelp, Zaine expected her to finish right then, giving him what he sought.   
He was very wrong.  
She gave him a squeeze that was strong enough to almost cross the border into discomfort. She was more skilled than that, however, flicking her own tongue across his tip while her digits stayed around his length. He could hear the breath start to come through his nose in gasps.  
“Laura.” It was equal parts warning and pleasure. He could feel it coming, a bigger orgasm than the ones before. A tight ball of pleasure welled up to put tendrils into his stomach. She kept sucking, ignoring his tone, and in the face of what was about to happen, he forgot about using his tongue on her.  
Everything but his orgasm disappeared. Zaine spilled out, over her tongue and down her soft throat. Laura hummed in pleasure, swallowing.   
“How was that?” floated to him through the ringing in his ears.  
“Oh, God.”  
“Good?” She shifted up to wipe spit away with the back of her arm.  
“Which way is up again?” he half-joked, dazed.  
She wriggled her bottom above him.   
“Oh, right. Which reminds me.” He lifted himself back up and gave her clit another hard suck. Laura grunted and half-collapsed across him, giving herself over now that her work was done. He made sure to fall back on all the things he knew she’d appreciated before, and it wasn’t long before his name rose up louder in her throat. “I’m—I’m going to--.”   
“I’m going to make you come again?”   
“Y-Ye-Yes!”  
With a final, long wail, she gave him what he wanted. For the first time since he’d taken a femme in the back of his dad’s old pick-up back in high school, fluid spotted his fur and splashed his muzzle, more than he thought possible. After a moment to recover from the surprise, he licked it away, first from his lips, then away from hers. Laura heaved out a breath and went weak, her weight settling across his.  
He waited for her heartbeat to slow. “Happy?”  
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. It sounded sated and sleepy. He laid there with her on top of him, counting the beats until his heartbeats matched hers, beat for beat.  
“Come on.” He gently shifted out from under her. She was almost asleep, making a weak effort to move when he did. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.” He hoped he’d exhausted her enough for the nightmares to stay at bay. His back couldn’t take another bout of them.  
\*\*\*  
They somehow ended up cuddling under those ruined sheets.   
Zaine couldn’t say he minded feeling Laura’s head on his chest. He certainly didn’t mind her breasts pressed against his side. Absently, he moved some hair out of her closed eyes.   
The touch made her stir. “Zaine?”   
“Hmm?” He traced down one of her long ears with the tip of a digit.  
“When Weasel gets out…”  
“You’re thinking about that now? It’s three AM. We can talk about it in the morning.”  
“It is morning,” she told his fur.  
“Real morning, with the sun up and birds out.”  
“I was going to ask if you wanted to tag team him.”   
“Like, work together?”  
“Mm-hmm.” She shifted to get more comfortable. An arm emerged to drape across him.  
“We’ll talk about it when you’re more awake.”  
“Now.” Even halfway to being passed out, she was stubborn. A smile curved the corners of his lips. “I’ll make you do what I want either way,” she added.  
“I’m willing to believe it.” Zaine almost smiled. He knew they would have to part after sunrise, go their separate ways.   
“So how about it?” Laura prompted. One eye slitted open to watch his.  
He looked down at her. In spite of their intentions to keep it simple, something had formed between them, something he hadn’t been expecting or looking for. It wasn’t something lasting, and he wondered what would happen if or when one of them found someone more permanent.  
Laura, seeing his concern, leaned up to stroke the side of his cheek. “Zaine?”  
He fought the smile a second more and then let it come.  
A superhero’s life was unpredictable. They both knew that. What they had here, now, was enough.   
It would have to be.   
Taking her paw, he brushed his lips against her knuckles.  
“I’m looking forward to it.”