Flight In Progress update (Patreon)

Tim started the car and backed out of the driveway. As he turned the car to aim it down the street, Steph shifted so that her hip was touching his. Tim looked down at her legs beside his own.

“I guess you can be happy to see me,” he said with a grin.

Steph dimpled at him. “You could be happy too.”

“I am happy.”

“You could be happier.”

“No, I’m not sure how much happiness I can take.”

“You let me be the judge of that.”

Tim drove quickly, with one hand on the wheel and the other around Steph. The radio played something soft—something he didn’t bother to turn the dial on. Neither of them spoke as they drove out of Gotham, headed toward the farms where the haywagon ride started. That was all the two teenagers who had gone missing had in common, so Tim’s big plan was to go there, look for leads, and if all else failed, hope the criminal targeted them and that they could take him out when he tried something.

They were the last to arrive. Other couples were already in the wagon, passing around whatever spirits the kids could lay their hands on as they waited impatiently for the evening to begin. Steph took a flask and swallowed a mouthful, coughing as it burned its way down her throat.

Someone started to beatbox as the two horses were reined into motion, pulling the wagon behind them. With the chill of the coming darkness, the many couples huddled together, some sinking into the sweet-smelling hay. Caring more about their partner than the hay getting all over their clothes. Girls giggled and boys shushed them. Far away from the city lights, as long as one didn’t make any noise, it was hard to tell what they were doing.

Tim followed suit with the others and pulled Steph down to lie full-length beside him. The moment she did, Steph was just about buried—grateful to be with Tim, who gave her some stability when she was otherwise adrift in a sea of hay.

“Just so you know, I could be happier too.”

“Oh?” Tim asked.

“Yeah. You could’ve been a lot nicer to me, and a lot of times.”

“Yes, I could’ve,” Tim admitted. “And I think I will again.”

“So I’ll just have to get used to it then?” Steph asked indignantly.

“No! It’s not like I’m deadset on mistreating you. Just that I can’t promise…”

“What? That you’ll never mistreat me? Because most guys could promise that.”

“Not honestly.”

The wagon hit a stone in the road and they were both jostled, Steph pressing against his body and Tim swallowing as he felt the first push of Steph’s expansive bust into his chest.

“I still might like to hear you promise it,” Steph said, her voice lower.

“I wanna try to be better,” Tim said. “But how can I say I’ll always be there for your birthday party when…” He lowered his voice to be undetectable to the other couples. “Someone’s life could be on the line?”

“I’m not telling you to let some poor SOB die so you can be on time for a date,” Steph whispered back. “But don’t act like I’m some unreasonable twat that whined because you—”

“No, no, you weren’t,” Tim quickly assured her. “I would definitely handle some stuff better now, if it happened now. I just can’t tell you I’ve got everything figured out. I don’t even have me all figured out. But I know that some of the biggest mistakes I made were not appreciating you. You don’t come along every two weeks.”

Steph pinched her lips together before smiling. “I would like to ‘come along’ a lot more often than that.”

“That’s another thing. I didn’t want to rush things with you, but then that became… me trying to freeze things until I got comfortable.”

Steph let her lips become a small moue. “Maybe I could’ve given you some more time to get comfortable—instead of trying to rush into being all boyfriend-girlfriend like I was afraid someone was going to steal you away.” She leaned in and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “Now that I know what a bitch you are to date, I’m not so worried about that.”

“Now that I know what a rare find you are, I’m a little worried someone else is going to nab you.”

“Tim, you’re rich and you’re a superhero. You’re kinda a catch.”

“Only kinda?”

“There’s still the emotionally constipated thing. But I’m getting the feeling that comes with the superhero territory. And the capes are a complete turn-on.”

“I like your mask too.”

“You’d better, now that it shows some of my face!”

“It’s a nice face.”

“Yeah.”

Steph sidled onto her back, looking up at the stars, and Tim rolled with her so that he was laying on his side, next to her and a little over her. Like he was poised on the edge of falling on her.

“Speaking of rushing into things, I’m not one hundred percent forgiving you, but since you were Mr. Noncommittal, can I get a pass for just wanting to do some kissing without all the way approving boyfriend status?”

“You wanna kiss me, kiss me,” Tim said. “I’m way past the point of being neurotic over that.”

“Good. Because you have a nice face too.”

She kissed him and found his mouth opening for her. Her tongue swam inside and he savagely treated it to his desire for her. The little hum of excitement Steph had felt all evening, at the sight of him, at his touch, now became a full-throated roar.

Tim’s hands cautiously touched her breasts. Even through her sweater and her blouse and her bra, Steph felt the electricity of being in his hands.

Then the spell was broken when, from the other side of the wagon, a slender little redhead spoke like she was trying to make herself heard on a rowdy bus: “Johnny, you stop that! You’d better behave yourself, you hear me?”

Steph snickered and Tim laughed with her. Even the driver, an old and half-deaf man in bib overalls, let out a ribald chuckle.

Steph looked into Tim’s eyes, liking the look of him enjoying himself, and he started kissing her again. His tongue to hers. His hands becoming more sure of themselves and Steph realizing that she herself wasn’t going to protest—not as long as this kept feeling so good.

Lying down with him, face to face, Steph barely had to move to feel the hard bulge inside his trousers. She wanted to reach down and touch him; acknowledge his proclamation of desire for her. But before she could steel herself to go further than the kisses they’d already exchanged, his hand moved up her sweater. It fondled its way along her belly as his knee touched her thighs. Steph felt herself becoming loopy—and she’d thought the spell was broken.

There was no stopping him; not when she didn’t want to. Tim undid her bra hook. He was as good at that as he was at so many things. And no one could even see with the straw all around them and the night over them besides. After a delicious moment of freedom, his hand was on her naked breast, his fingers tweaking the nipple and caressing the firm, full hill of her teat. She’d forgotten how delightful it was to be touched there. Tim was a little halting in caressing her, but that just made it more endearing. He knew how to do so much, but she made him nervous.

His tongue demanded her mouth with the next kiss, his desire for her so open it was almost obsessive. His hips buffeted against her pelvis. Steph was panting now. There was an urge for him to stop—this was so much—but that tiny urge was shouted down by how much more of her wanted this. She wanted him to kiss her breasts, to fondle her body. She was only vaguely aware of the horses’ hooves striking the trail and the murmurs of the other couples in the anonymity of the hay. Everyone was doing what they were doing, but Steph doubted any of them were enjoying it as much as her.

Suddenly the breath was gone from her body, disappearing like a magic trick. With none of the fumbling hesitance he’d shown before, Tim had reached up her skirt and into her panties and unerringly found the perfect way into her feverish pussy for just one finger. Oh God! She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted him to do that, not until it happened and was glorious!

But too much, too fast. Steph clasped his wrist, squeezing hard into the wiry muscle. Her lips went dead as she stopped returning his kisses. She felt so helpless, so weak, too overcome by pleasure to do anything to stop him. Her body begged for more as his hand stopped at the hot, moist lips of her and his mouth held still so close to hers that her exhales broke against it and warmed her own skin.

Steph felt split, right down the middle. Wanting to keep going but not knowing if she could. She’d never felt anything so strongly—such an insane urge. Like if she let go of herself, she would actually fuck him right here in the middle of all these people!

His eyes burned into hers, but they did it as his hand slid out of her panties. When it left, the elastic closed the satin gusset back to her sex. Steph let out a moan at it touching her again. Now Tim’s eyes were soft, inquiring. He wanted to know if he’d hurt her. Steph kissed him gently on the lips, assuring him nothing had gone wrong. It had just been too much for her: her face was flushed, cheeks burning so red she was surprised she wasn’t glowing in the dark.

And still Steph sensed the bulge in his pants, beating like a second heart to make itself felt against her bare thigh.

She considered doing something to relieve him—maybe making him the one trembling like he had epilepsy—but then the driver shouted “Hey, everyone, we’re here!”

The wagon turned a ways and stopped at the bank of a tributary of Gotham River. There was a huge bonfire shedding light and heat all the way from where the wagon was parked, fifty feet away. The smell of cooking steaks carried on the wind. A keg of beer was tapped and someone was playing guitar.

Tim helped Steph down from the wagon. She wondered where exactly her bra had gone, then found herself looking Tim in the eye. He indicated his jacket and she saw him tucking the strap of it away in a pocket.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he told her.

Steph hoped her lipstick wasn’t too smeared.