The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

A week passed, and let me tell you something about living with two sexually enhanced women who’ve discovered the joys of what I bring to the table: there’s no such thing as a quiet morning anymore.

I woke up with Sloane’s mouth around my cock, her pink hair spilling across my thighs as she worked me with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been practicing. A lot. Diane sat beside us on the bed, already dressed for the office but running her fingers through Sloane’s hair like she was petting a particularly talented cat.

"Good morning, sugar," Diane murmured, leaning down to kiss me while her daughter continued her morning routine. The taste of coffee and honey lingered on her lips, and I could feel Sloane’s pleased hum vibrating through my entire body.

This had become normal. Whatever the hell normal meant anymore.

Sloane pulled off with a wet pop, grinning up at me with that bratty smile that made my heart do stupid things. "Sleep well?"

"Better now," I managed, because speaking while she was stroking me with those enhanced reflexes was like trying to hold a conversation during an earthquake.

"Mmm, I can see that." She took me back into her mouth, deeper this time, and Diane’s hand moved to cup the back of her head.

"Show him what you learned yesterday," Diane instructed, her CEO voice mixing with something distinctly maternal in a way that should have been wrong but just made everything hotter.

Sloane’s technique had improved dramatically over the week. What started as enthusiastic but amateur had evolved into something that could probably be classified as a superpower. The enhancement effect worked both ways, apparently. Her stamina, her coordination, even her ability to read my reactions had all leveled up along with her physical capabilities.

I tangled my fingers in her hair as she worked me toward the edge, and when I came, she swallowed everything with the satisfied expression of someone who’d just aced a particularly difficult exam.

"Good girl," Diane praised, and Sloane practically glowed.

This was my life now. And honestly? I wasn’t complaining.

The afternoon brought a different kind of workout. Diane had come home early with that particular glint in her eye that meant she’d been thinking about me during board meetings again. She found me in the gym, finishing a set of weighted pulls that would have been impossible before my enhancement kicks started stacking.

"You’re getting stronger," she observed, leaning against the doorframe in her business suit like she was evaluating a particularly interesting acquisition.

"You’re getting more direct."

She laughed, that throaty sound that went straight to my cock. "Two weeks of sharing you with my daughter has a way of cutting through social niceties."

Before I could respond, she was pressing me against the mirrored wall, her hands already working at my workout shorts. The contrast of her perfectly pressed blazer against my sweat-slicked chest created friction that made my brain short-circuit.

"Here?" I asked, because the gym had windows that faced the neighbor’s house.

"The blinds are closed," she replied, dropping to her knees with the kind of elegant grace that only came with decades of practice. "And I’ve been thinking about this all day."

Diane’s approach was different from Sloane’s. Where her daughter was eager and experimental, Diane was controlled and devastating. She knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how to use her tongue and her hands and the suction of her throat to reduce me to a shaking mess against the wall.

When she stood up and turned around, pressing her hands flat against the mirror, I didn’t need any further invitation. Her skirt hiked up easily, and she was already wet and ready for me.

"The neighbors might see," I warned, even as I positioned myself behind her.

"Let them," she gasped as I pushed inside. "Maybe they’ll learn something."

The angle was perfect, hitting spots that made her breath catch and her reflection flush pink in the mirror. I could see everything, the way her face changed as I moved deeper, the way her carefully styled hair started to come undone.

"Harder," she demanded, and I obliged, my hands gripping her hips as I gave her exactly what she wanted.

Diane came first, her body clenching around me as she bit her lip to keep from screaming. When I followed, spilling inside her with enough force to make my knees buckle, she looked back at me with that satisfied smile that meant I’d passed another one of her unspoken tests.

"Better?" I asked, helping her smooth down her skirt.

"Much. Though my afternoon meetings are going to be interesting."

The thought of Diane sitting in boardrooms with my cum still inside her was probably going to occupy my brain for the rest of the day.

Evening brought all three of us together in Diane’s room, which had become our unofficial headquarters for these encounters. Sloane sprawled across the California king in nothing but one of my shirts, Diane beside her in black lace that probably cost more than most people’s rent.

"Come here," Sloane commanded, patting the bed between them. "We want to try something."

What they wanted to try turned out to be taking turns riding me while the other one kissed and touched and whispered encouragement. Sloane went first, her enhanced stamina letting her set a pace that would have killed a normal person. Diane coached her through different angles and rhythms, her hands guiding Sloane’s hips while her mouth found sensitive spots along my neck and chest.

When they switched positions, Diane took control with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she wanted. Sloane settled beside my head, and I pulled her down to my mouth, tasting her while Diane rode me with the kind of precision that came from two weeks of intensive practice.

The sounds they made together, the way they moved around each other, the casual intimacy of hands and mouths and shared pleasure, it was better than any fantasy I could have imagined. When Sloane came against my tongue, her thighs trembling around my head, Diane followed immediately after, like they were connected by invisible wires.

I managed to hold on until they both collapsed on either side of me, then pulled out and came across both of their stomachs, marking them in a way that made something primitive and possessive purr in my chest.

"Show off," Sloane murmured, but she was smiling as she traced patterns in the mess I’d made.

"You love it," I replied, and she didn’t deny it.

We spent the rest of the evening in the aftermath glow, talking about everything and nothing while our bodies cooled down and our breathing returned to normal. These moments, the quiet intimacy between the intense sessions, were becoming just as addictive as the sex itself.

Which was saying something, considering the sex was definitely addictive.

Thursday brought the mail.

I was making coffee in the kitchen when Sloane came running down the stairs, her hair still messy from sleep and a thick envelope clutched in her hand.

"It’s here," she said, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Holy shit, Lukas, it’s here."

Diane emerged from her office, coffee mug in hand and that particular alertness that meant she was switching into crisis management mode.

"Halloran?" she asked.

"Has to be." Sloane turned the envelope over in her hands like it might explode. "Same return address, official seal, everything."

My own envelope was waiting in the stack of mail on the counter, thick cream paper with my name written in elegant script. Seeing it there made my stomach do something complicated, a mix of excitement and terror that I hadn’t felt since the entrance exam itself.

"Well?" Diane prompted. "Are you going to open them?"

Sloane looked at me, then at her mother, then back at the envelope in her hands. "Together?"

"Together," I agreed, picking up my own letter.

We stood there in the kitchen, three people who’d built something impossible and wonderful and terrifying, holding pieces of paper that would determine the next phase of our lives.

"On three," Sloane said. "One..."

"Two..." I added.

"Three," Diane finished.