Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2072778.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Worm_(Web_Serial_Novel)
  Relationship:
      Victoria/Dean
  Character:
      Victoria_Dallon_(Glory_Girl), Dean_(Gallant)
  Additional Tags:
      Happy_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-03 Words: 4042
****** At the Gala ******
by BlueNocturne
Summary
     Glory Girl and Gallant make time to be together.
I'm a career girl.
Ames would shake her head at that, and say that what we did was a public
service and not a career. My mom and dad would rag on me about that being my
excuse for not studying enough. Being an independent superhero didn't come with
anything like a steady paycheck. I needed to think about what sort of job I
wanted when I grew up, they'd say, because Mom was a lawyer and Uncle Neil did
interior decorating and both still had bills to pay during the dry months.
But it's totally true. My job, my passion, is being Glory Girl.
I fly around, kick the shit out of bad guys, help people, and look fantastic
doing it. Ames might think all there is to this profession is do-gooding, but
you gotta have a rep too. Me getting my name out there makes assholes less
likely to pull any stupid stunts when they see me coming. Working grade schools
means little girls want to be me when they grow up, and not evil shits like
Purity or Squealer.
Then there's social events like tonight. I can't tell you how many times I've
rubbed elbows at the Forsberg Gallery. Ames gets bored out of her mind, but
there's a point to getting out there and chatting up the city's elite. Making a
point of remembering some city councilman's name --- I don't really, but that's
what pre-party flash card review is for --- shows I care about them, and that
they should care about me. It's investing in a relationship for the future.
Just one rub.
My awesome superhero boyfriend is also a careerist, and tonight's the first
time we've met face-to-face outside school in over a week.
We each circle the ballroom, me doing my New Wave thing and him doing his
humble Ward thing, and eventually 'happen' to link up near a punchbowl.
Gallant, clad in his all-concealing power armor, doesn't slip his hand into
mine when I come close, nor does he kiss me hello. Because I'm dating his
secret identity, not some Ward I should only know in a professional context.
Which sucks ass.
"Good evening, Glory Girl," he buzzed, even his voice disguised behind a mild
scrambler.
"Gallant."
He made a show of pouring me a glass of fruit punch. It was nonalcoholic, meant
for the handful of minors in attendance, and as such had a large dead zone
around it. Kids and no booze, two things lots of adults loved.
As he passed the glass to me, Gallant said, quietly, "Coast is clear."
I exhaled, and he rocked back a little as my aura let go of its false front.
For a little while I didn't need to keep up appearances.
"I'm... uh... sensing a little frustration," he said. "Is this about...?"
"You hung up on me."
"My dad came home early."
"I had to finish myself off. Want to know how many batteries I went through?"
Gallant made a 'keep it down' gesture.
"It's been nine days since we were together," I whispered. "The phone stuff
isn't cutting it anymore."
"I know. Our schedules--"
"--suck."
"But I should have made more time for you, and I'm sorry I haven't."
I sighed, my irritation at him draining away. "No. I get it. Patrols.
Paperwork. Your dad's business. We've both had other responsibilities."
"We also have each other, and I can tell you need something only..."
Gallant and I lapsed into silence for a moment, as the mayor's sister came with
a young brunette in tow. The mayor's niece, I think? She wasn't in my flash
cards. Big slip on my part. I made a mental note to correct that when I got
home tonight.
Once they were gone, I cleared my throat. "You were saying something about what
I needed?"
Gallant nodded. "We should go downstairs to take care of it."
As usual, I ended up breathless around my boyfriend. I'd come over here to
vent, but now I felt a stirring in my belly at his brazen suggestion. Given he
was an empath, that was probably answer enough for him. But I still had to ask.
"Really? Now?"
"Are you saying you don't want to?"
"Hell no," I replied, a shade too loudly. Sipping my drink, I covertly checked
to see if anyone nearby had noticed my outburst. I plucked the cherry from my
punch of bunch and peeled the fleshy fruit off the pit with my front teeth.
"Mom won't miss me for a little bit, and Ames is off sulking on the balcony.
You?"
"Dennis can cover for me for a little while. Ten, fifteen minutes?"
"It's been nine days," I whined. "I need more than fifteen minutes."
"Trust me. With what I'm seeing radiate off your skin, it won't take you that
long."
I wrinkled my nose at him. "Fine."
Gallant returned to his meet-and-greet work, angling to link up with
Clockblocker down at the other end of the refreshment table. I made my own way
back through the crowd, stopping here and there to shake hands with local big
wigs and laugh at their lame jokes. All the while, sparks of anticipation lit
up my core, and it seemed all the more thrilling because nobody here suspected
how moist I was getting.
Eventually, I slipped away from the fancy party to a deserted side stairwell.
There was an out-of-the-way conference room, two floors down, that we'd
rendezvoused at a several times in the past. Mostly because of the couch. It
was an odd thing, jammed into the corner of the room, presumably because
whoever owned the office space had nowhere better to put it and because
pitching it would be a bigger hassle.
My heart fluttered, thinking of the dear memories Dean and I made on it. It had
been hard to find alone time outside of these parties when we were younger.
That couch had been an escape from our parents.
For the longest time, Dean hadn't want me to feel rushed in our relationship.
He'd driven me crazy, in the best and worst senses of the word, during those
long months where he wasn't comfortable doing more than petting me through my
clothes. But I had trained him well since then.
If we weren't in fancy dress while we shared that couch, we were in costumes. I
didn't want to say the sex was better with our costumes on. Peeling a tuxedo
off Dean was its own reward. Making love was... really really great, whatever
we tried together. The feel of our sweaty flesh grinding against one another
was just as much of an adventure as taking care not to stain our clothes during
playtime.
But I did feel more powerful as Glory Girl, and sexier too.
The windowless conference room was utterly dark, as well as cold from the
building's central air conditioner running at full blast to handle both packed
ballrooms. I flicked the overhead lights on, stepped inside, and locked the
bolt on the door behind me. I double-checked it just to be sure.
Reassured that no one would walk in on me, I reached under my white skirt and
hooked my thumbs on the snug elastic band of my modesty shorts, the best friend
of any female flyer in a skirt.
Cool air kissed my damp panties. They too soon joined my modesty shorts in a
neatly folded pile on the floor, next to my purse.
I exhaled, and rubbed my upper arms.
Preshow jitters.
There was a clock on the wall. I watched its second hand move with agonizing
slowness. It was almost a full four minutes before there was a subdued knock on
the door. I checked my tiara, adjusting it slightly, and then knocked back
twice. My breath caught in my throat until Gallant tapped the right code in
response.
It wouldn't do for Glory Girl to be found with a bare derriere.
Gallant slipped inside, and I immediately relocked the door.
Damn it. He was gorgeous in costume. Armored in polished silver and gunmetal,
with neon trim at his seams, Gallant looked as if he was a knight who'd stepped
out of some mad fairy tale. His helmet was all-concealing. I couldn't see his
smile, or his eyes. But he could see me, would see all of me.
I cozied up to my boyfriend, planting a chaste kiss on the 'mouth' of his
helmet. A faint imprint from my lipstick remained to mark my territory. "Aren't
you going to take that mask off?"
He shook his head.
"You know, you're not dressed right for the tall, dark and silent routine."
Gallant reached down under my skirt, tracing a line along my outer thigh, up my
hourglass figure, as if inspecting me for quality. His armored glove finally
cupped a soft breast through my costume, making a slow circular motions with
his open palm, rubbing me through the molded uniform piece that acted like a
built-in sports bra. You couldn't impress villains by jiggling at them during a
brawl.
With his other hand, Gallant stroked the line of my neck.
"And you're not dressed right for a heroine. No underwear. Lewd." His tongue
clicked against his teeth. "Maybe you don't deserve to wear any of it."
"No!" I burst. "I need it tonight. Please."
Gallant's playful hand abandoned my neck to cup my cheek. With his gloved hand,
he rubbed my lips. "All right. But these?" He brusquely squeezed the breast he
held. "I still want to see."
He loomed over me in his power armor, body unyielding when mine was soft and
pliable. Locking my gaze with his eyeless gunmetal face, I nibbled on my lip as
Gallant reached for the recessed zipper near my neckline. The mystique was
spoiled somewhat as he fumbled with it. "My gloves," he explained simply.
"Don't worry." I took hold of the zipper and peeled it downward slowly, then
parted my costume, showing him what he was hungry for. "Glory Girl's here to
save the day."
My large breasts hardly needed a bra for support. A sigh escaped me as Gallant
filled his gloves with their soft flesh, which spilled out between his fingers.
He stroked and teased me, flirting with my stiffening nipples but only that. It
felt nice, and his undivided attention was even better, but my patience wore
thin as Gallant lavished my bosom with affection to the exclusion of the rest
of me, which ached for his touch.
"You're such a little boy," I chided him.
"That's not what you've said in the past."
"Mm-hm. If you'd like, I could get Ames to make them bigger."
"No." He added, admiringly, "You're just the right size."
"Maybe a third one then."
"Promise?"
I broke away from him. "Stop. You've had your fun. I n-need..."
I rocked back and forth a little in my polished knee-high white boots,
fidgeting.
"Tell me," he ordered.
The room's chilled air licked at my bare mound, making it hard to think
straight. I patted my skirt down, self-conscious, and a bit miffed at my own
body undermining me. "You know."
Gallant reached down, slipping armored fingers around my slim wrist. He pulled
my hand away from my skirt. Gallant didn't have to be gentle reprimanding me,
like this. In his power armor he could bend steel, and I could always take a
lot of punishment. "Don't be coy, Glory Girl."
"Like you said, I want you to... take care of me."
"Where?"
I glanced over my shoulder, at the conference table. A change of pace.
"Inside," Gallant asked, "or outside?"
I'd long ago had my sister adjust my monthly cycle, flipping it off while
maintaining all the right hormones. No bleeding. No cramps or crying jags
anymore. Best of all, no possibility of any accidents with Gallant. It was the
best birth control on the planet with zero side effects.
Yet while I craved the feeling of my boyfriend buried deep inside my folds,
throbbing as he spilled himself into me, we didn't have a lot of time, and only
idiots skimped on cleaning themselves up. I didn't mind being slutty with a boy
I loved. Looking slutty in front of Brockton Bay's elite---and more
importantly, my mother---was a different story entirely.
"Outside," I replied.
Gallant put a hand to the small of my back and led me over to the conference
table. I planted my hands at its edge and bent over, pushing my cape off to one
side, flushing not in embarrassment but in rising need as I presented myself
for him to plough. My clit throbbed for his touch.
I craned my head back toward my boyfriend.
Mr. Stansfield had splurged on Gallant's second-hand power armor, but it was
Armsmaster who maintained it, and who constantly needled my boyfriend about
upgrades that he should sign off on to increase its field efficiency. Like
installing a catheter to increase his maximum time ceiling for patrols. Gallant
had declined because that was crazy talk, and opted to keep things simple.
Which had benefits beyond easier bathroom breaks.
The codpiece of Gallant's neon-trimmed power armor retracted, and his plentiful
manhood, wet with pre-cum, spilled out. He might've sighed in relief at no
longer being caged, but if he did I wasn't paying attention. My focus was
squarely on the hand that Gallant cupped himself with, stroking himself to full
length. For me.
My full breasts felt heavy, my nipples so tight they ached. The knot of warmth
in my stomach begged to be stoked to full flame.
Gallant let go of himself and slipped that dirty hand between my thighs,
avoiding my cleft even as I dipped down in a bid to press myself into his
fingers. He massaged my taut lubricated skin. I'd started dripping all over
myself ever since he'd first propositioned me upstairs in the ballroom.
At any other time, I would've flustered in embarrassment. I loved sex. I loved
my boyfriend. But I was practically a living fire hydrant, and there wasn't
anything remotely attractive about that in my book.
It was very, very hard to worry about that with Gallant kneading my inner
thigh.
I swallowed as a tiny tremor took me. Not from orgasm. It was need.
"They're going to be looking for us if you don't hurry," I said.
Gallant flipped my white skirt over. He cupped my butt with both gloved hands
and squeezed gently. "Hurry to do what?"
"Don't play games."
"What do you want me to do to you, Glory Girl?"
"Take me."
"Take you where? Back upstairs?"
"Fuck me."
Gallant, as always, was a perfect gentleman when it came to obeying proper
playtime etiquette. Without releasing his hold on my rump, he thrust into me
with practiced ease. I gasped, rolling my head at the ecstasy of his familiar
girth filling me. So good. So good.
I groaned as Gallant pulled back to my folds, then out of me completely. "N-
no!"
I felt hollow, now. The ache in my core only gathered pressure as he dragged
her slick, bulbous head along the length of my plump lower lips. Ghosting
inward. Pulling back. Teasing me at his leisure.
"You're a bastard, Dean Stansfield!"
The synthesized voice from his helmet announced evenly, "If you're going to
scream my name already, there's not much point in me putting in extra work to
make you cum, is there?"
"Put your cock back in me," I hissed through clenched teeth, "or I'll knock you
down and rape what I need out of you."
Rather than answering straight away, Gallant instead took one hand off my
buttocks and gathered up my long platinum blonde locks. I bit my lip in
anticipation of what was coming. Because once he had a good hold on me, Gallant
yanked my head back while simultaneously slamming himself back into my sopping
pussy.
He stuck up a measured tempo, pulling out partway and then pushing back into my
core. In his power armor he couldn't push himself into me all the way down to
his root, couldn't mash his skin against mine. I didn't mind. Gallant towered
behind me, strong and powerful enough to work me however he desired. I was his,
and that's all my heart wanted.
Wet, obscene sounds filled the conference room.
I rolled my hips against Gallant's shaft, and he allowed me a degree of
freedom, let me dictate his course so that he dipped closer to the pearl of
nerves uncovered by my arousal. Yet he didn't let me pull him closer, didn't
cooperate as I poured a fraction of my brute strength into my walls, kneading
his straining cock and trying to keep him from slipping out of me.
Only when I came did I finally take back control. My sex contracted around him,
gripping Gallant in place like a vice. My whole body flushed as wave after wave
of tingling electricity filled me. My toes curled. Tears leaked from my
clenched eyes, but I was too far gone to care about ruined mascara.
Slowly, slowly, slowly... I unwound.
Gallant let go of my mane and, gently, wrapped his now-free arm around my
stomach and helped me down to the floor. He never slipped out of me. I came to
rest in his lap, my bare bottom flush against his metal suit.
I rested bonelessly against and atop him, my knight in shining armor.
Once I'd caught my breath, I squirmed a little in his lap, feeling his heat
within me. His manhood had softened only slightly. "I didn't...hurt you?"
"I'm fine," Gallant promised. "I'd wear you all day if I could, Vicky."
I kissed his featureless mask. "Do you want to finish on the top or the
bottom?"
"What do you want?"
"It's possible to be too gallant, you know."
"...Mouth," he said, before hastening to add, "You can say no."
"You want a blowjob?" I teased him.
Gallant nodded.
A flush lit up my whole body as I finally noted my reflection in his power
armor. I needed to brush out my hair and retouch my mascara before I went back
out in public.
Still. Now that I was dressed for the part...
I leaned in, to the 'ear' of Gallant's helmet. "Do you want to shoot down my
gagging throat," I whispered, "or all over my pretty face? Or on my tits?"
"All of the above."
I laughed and kissed him again. "Such a boy."
We clamored to our feet, and shifted over to the couch. The piece of office
furniture groaned under the weight of Gallant's power armor. It might've
snapped in half if I'd added my own slight form to it, but my place right now
was on the floor, kneeling between my boyfriend's spread legs.
Gallant's uncircumcised manhood, hairless and shaved by me on another of our
recent nights together, smelled strongly of both sweat and his heady musk.
He'd regained his full vigor even before I laid a hand on him, thickly-veined
cock engorged and seemingly straining against its own delicate skin. I gathered
my long hair back to keep it out of the way, and looked up at Gallant's mask.
"The camera in your helmet better be off," I joked.
"You're worrying about that now?"
I didn't respond to his quip, because Gallant was a good man. You could trust
him not to take advantage of you when you opened up to him. I'd never have to
worry about a video of me working myself ragged on his fat shaft leaking on the
internet, or him reviewing fond memories of tonight alone on his laptop.
I asked to tease, because I trust him enough to take him into my mouth, and
savor the interplay of our combined juices---his biting musk, my delicate
earthiness. Gallant tensed as I did just that, the heat of my mouth wrapped
around his knob.
I worked him over, massaging the shaft of Gallant's cock with my hands while
slurping and sucking him. His foreskin I toyed with, rolling it over his proud
ridge with my lips, sucking it past his tip, letting it slip back. I pressed
him into my cheek, letting him enjoy the outline of his manhood pushing against
my smooth skin. All the while, I kept my eyes fixed on his. Not seeing their
reaction, I could still expect he'd enjoy the sight of me worshipping him.
My spit-slick lips slipped off his diamond hard cock, but I kept close enough
that my warm breath tickled his wet flesh. His taut flesh pulsed in time with
his racing heartbeat. "I'm going to do something special just for you. I want
you to tell me when you're about to pop, okay?"
Gallant mumbled a frazzled reply.
I raised myself off the ground a little, pulled my unzipped Glory Girl costume
a little further apart, and took hold of my full breasts. The angle was a
little awkward. Gallant couldn't quiet plunge all the way along my ample
cleavage, more slip into and out of it. I didn't care. I felt the residual heat
in my belly stir against at the feel of my boyfriend's cock against my bare
skin, and at the certainty that Gallant would, after tonight, sneak glances at
my chest more often in public, as their curves tempted him the fond memory of
being buried between them.
"These are yours," I told him. "You're the only one who gets to enjoy them."
I leaned away from him, strings of translucent stickiness connecting us for a
parting moment, and then I took Gallant back into my mouth.
I moved down on him, suppressing my gag reflex until my nose was mashed against
the outer shell of his power armor. A part of me cursed not being able to go
deeper, to take Gallant all the way inside my throat. I loved going as far
possible, pushing my body to its limit, hitting previously unreachable goals.
His armored hand came to rest on my head, gently holding me down as I worked
over his manhood. The hand I didn't have holding his shaft, I jammed between my
weeping thighs, stoking the fire there.
"V-Victoria..."
Gallant tensed after that groan, which was all the warning I needed.
His big cock spasmed as the first burst of seed explode into my throat. I
wrenched myself backward, but on the way the second splashed onto my tongue, my
teeth, and smeared across my pink lips. I shuddered, sinking two fingers inside
myself even as Gallant spurted his seed all over my bare chest.
I rode that wave of power I felt to my second climax of the night.
As pulses of heat and lightning faded away in my belly, I slipped my mouth back
around my boyfriend's wilting manhood and suckled the last few pearls out of
him, washing him clean with my tongue.
Dean finally removed his helmet. His cheeks was red, and his trim blond hair
soaked in sweat. "You're," he gasped, "amazing."
I smirked, and gathered up the seed on my chin and breasts, licking it off my
fingers as he watched. All while my tits hung out of my costume and my Glory
Girl tiara rested atop a disheveled platinum mane. I didn't love the taste, but
I wanted to put on a show he'd never forget. Dean was mine and would stay mine,
because I was the best girlfriend anyone could have. "Don't go thinking I'll do
that every time. You have to earn it."
He almost pouted.
"We're going to be in so much trouble," Dean said, head lolling back.
"Why? What time is---OH SHIT! Mom's going to crucify me!"
There was no time to enjoy the afterglow. I hurried to get dressed. Dean pried
himself off the couch and stumbled to fetch a pack of baby wipes and the
hairbrush from my purse. Our 'fuck kit', I liked to think of it.
"Still worth it," he said while kneeling before me, wiping away the half-dried
love juices from my inner thighs.
Even as I frantically scrubbing off streaks of cum and ruined mascara, I
couldn't help but grin down at Dean. "Yeah. It totally was."
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