Chapter One
Stay at STAR Labs, they said.
It’ll be fun for you, they said.
We want you to be safe, they said.
Okay, so maybe it was just cousin Jefferson who said it and maybe he was right. But still, I don’t see why I have to stay in the headquarters of the whole bunch of superheroes, especially when the main dudes get most of the heavy work done and stay with me. I could easily stay at Uncle Joe’s place and do my homework and stuff there. Then again, I was his surviving relative when my mother and stepfather were killed by some jackass who thought it would be fun to drive while texting and under the influence of alcohol.
And since I was an easy target for some of the nasty villains and the gross monsters (King Shark, Weather Wizard, Mirror Master), it was mandatory that I stay under the careful eye of people my other relatives could trust, ergo the heroes that would come in after doing most of the heroic bits.
So there I was in one of the guest bedrooms, finishing up the last of my World history homework while polishing off the rest of my meatball sub sandwich so I could watch “The Real Housewives of Atlanta.” and head to bed. But before I could get the TV to turn on, Barry Allen came in, having stripped off his speedster suit and was now down to his black sports briefs that hugged his body perfectly.
Now, I will deny it until I die if you told anyone this, but I had to admit, Barry had an amazing body since becoming Central City’s speedster hero. And yes, readers, I am gay.
“Why pray to tell, are you in my guest room?” I drawled.
“Hello to you, too,” Barry said, distorting his voice by vibrating his vocal cords. “And I was hoping to sleep in here with you.”
“Uh, no,” I said. “I plan to-” I hardly finished my sentence because before I knew it, Barry was speedily putting away the trash and my books away and we were in the bed, side by side.
“You do know that I never really gave you permission to sleep in here, right?” I said.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” Barry said. “By the way, you smell good.”
I rolled my eyes as I heard that speedster giggling behind me.
The door swung opened and in walked both Oliver Queen and Roy Harper, both dressed in pajama bottoms in their respective colors. “Barry, is Xander with you?” the former said.
“Yep,” Barry chirped gleefully. “You two are welcome to join us.”
“Sweet,” Roy said as he got on Barry’s side while Oliver joined me. “Clark is coming to join us as well as Mon-El, Leo and his husband Ray and Ronnie.”
Oh, Lord, I thought sourly. Deathstorm is back?
“Yes, Xander, I’m back in town and I’m here to stay,” said anti-hero piped up as he came into the room wearing his black-leather outfit as Mon-El, Leo and his husband Ray joined us in the ridiculously large bed that could hold up to ten people.
“Damn, Xander, you smell great as you are sexy as hell,” Leo purred as he cuddled next to Oliver, looking over the archer’s shoulder and smiling at me.
“He smells like sugar cookies,” Mon-El said pointedly.
“I love sugar cookies,” Clark said, wearing only a pair of form-fitting grey boxer briefs and joining us in the bed.
“So do we,” the others said in unison.
I groaned. “Why are you all here?” I spat out. “Don’t you all have your own apartments to go back to?”
“Yeah, but we prefer sleeping with a cute twink like you,” Barry answered. “And for the record, I cannot wait for the day when we can ravish your hole.”
Did I mention that these guys in the bed with me are also gay as rainbows?
“Xander, you feel so tense,” Oliver said, looking into my exasperated eyes. “You need to relax. You’re amongst friends here. And soon, you may consider us lovers.”
“Not likely,” I said.
The next moment, readers, was so damn shocking. I felt Mon-El’s arms wrap around my waist from the back while Leo and Ray wrapped their legs around each of mine. Oliver placed his head in my chest while Barry snaked his arms around my waist from the front. Ronnie (somehow) placed his and Clark’s legs in between mine. It was as if they didn’t want me to escape.
“Uh-” I started to say that it was starting to get awkward, but was immediately cut off when all the guys shouting gleefully:
“GO TO SLEEP, XANDER!”
Ah, hell, I thought as I saw the snickering silhouette from cousin Jefferson, Professor Stein taking a picture on his smartphone. Wait until I tell Uncle Joe about this. Maybe he’ll believe me when I tell him that I don’t need a babysitter or even a legion of horny ones at that!
