by LIAM HOGAN
Emergency Face by Dan | Flickr
The klaxon went off while we were having sex.
The klaxon always went off while we were having sex. Or strictly, just before. We never got any further than ripping each other’s SuperHero costumes off.
GraniteMan groaned, but not in a good way. “Prob’ly a false alarm.”
“Probably,” I agreed, but by then I was already suiting back up. “Come on, you big lump,” I said, slapping his rock-hard bottom, “you don’t want to miss out on all the fun.”
Five minutes later we sat staring at the bank of monitors, holding scaldingly hot cups of hot chocolate.
“Anything?” GraniteMan said, the grey pallor of his skin fading now the threat of city-wide destruction and rampant sex were receding.
domo slurpee / Rakka / Flickr
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