In a world torn between heroes and villains, it can be a dangerous and hostile place. Some take comfort in the Gifted that stand up against those who would use their powers for greed and chaos. While others choose to hide away, fearful of the day...
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"That won't be necessary."
"Oh yeah," replied Elaina as she sipped her tea with an amused raise of her brow. "You've been wearing the same pair of briefs for who knows how long. You need new clothes and you don't fit anything I have."
Despite her best attempts to maintain her cool, a blush coated her cheeks as she recalled how well she knew the fit of his body. Obviously, any person who laid eyes on him could figure out he didn't fit into her clothes. However, she knew it beyond a doubt thanks to firsthand experience.
During his day of fitful rest, he'd cry out for help every few hours. She'd come over to assist him and more times than not, what he needed was to balance his weight on her shoulders while he hobbled around her home in the thralls of a fever dream. And she boasted sturdy shoulders. Tending her vegetable garden, fishing, hunting, chopping down timber, everything she did to maintain her life in the woods, meant she bore a strong musculature upon her petite frame. However, she struggled to serve as his crutch.
He stood a foot taller, probably more when he wasn't slouched over in pain. So, when he leaned on her, it felt like a mountain collapsing, and she felt both terrified and awestruck by his strength. His muscles, warm and firm, had pressed in against her. His breathing, labored and raspy, had caused him to quake and shudder beside her. He'd wrap his arm around her, his bicep snug against her neck while his forearm draped over her shoulder, his hand swaying with their movement, causing his fingertips to brush against the side of her breast with each step. And then, every once in a while, in the middle of his condemnation of Spam or a rant about why he deserved a pet squirrel, he'd tilt his head down and whisper in her ear, his lips teasing her skin.
It was easy enough to let it go when she knew he was on some other plane of consciousness. She'd take a nice, long, cold shower, spend some private time up in her loft working out some frustrations, and then do what she could to sleep before he woke up again. Now, however, he had returned to earth and his eyes watched her with an intensity that hadn't been there before. She truly felt his presence, and it was a dangerous combination with the impression his body had left on her.
It'd been too damn long since she got laid.
"Yes, of course," he replied, ignorant of her struggling fortitude as he glanced down at the blanket that covered his lower half. "It's just that I don't plan to stay much longer. If you allow me to use your phone, I can call someone to come pick me up."
"Oh yeah, private jet?" she asked, shaking herself out of her reverie.
"Helicopter," he answered, unperturbed.
"Right." It was easier to forget his well-cut figure once she remembered the truth of the situation. He wasn't just a handsome man that heaven dropped out of the sky for her to find. This was a Gifted who either had a ton of money or was sponsored by someone who did. It likely meant nothing to him to toss a few dollars at someone so they'd forget how he destroyed their house in a scuffle with a rival, or depleted their stock of bandages and strained their back after dragging him through the woods.
