title: Black Flame
author: newtypeshadow
fandom: Sky High
disclaimer: The characters and settings of Sky High are not my property. This story was written for entertainment, not for profit.
warning: masturbation, villain!Warren
Maybe it's obsessive, but he watches the six o'clock news religiously. Not for the news stories, but for a person: Black Flame. It's Warren Peace, the friend who turned foe, the ex-friend who's now an even greater Supervillain than his father. Will hates to fight him, but loves the way it makes him feel alive. He has never felt more alive than he has with Warren.
Never.
He hits record as the fight begins. Warren is fighting a hero from the West Coast, Mister Invisible. It's almost like Warren is fighting the air, fighting himself. It's Will's favorite way to watch him. His hair is whipping in the wind, in the fire he hurls from his fists. The camera zooms in on the snarl on his face. His eyes are dark and burning. His lips are red and full.
Will's feels himself getting hard and leans back on the couch. Warren is throwing flames at the air now. Some of them land on buildings, smashing through windows. Screams emanate from the buildings and the emptying street, but Will can't bring himself to care, because Warren's black leather jacket is hugging his biceps and the red streaks in his hair seem to burn like the flames in his fists.
A thrown flame hits Mister Invisible and chars his suit. Now the visible patch can be seen dodging in and out of the fireballs. Will cups his dick. His hand is warm. He imagines it is Warren's, on fire, yet never burning—Warren's fire could never actually burn Will. They used to test it in school, seeing what could and couldn't hurt Will. They came up with Will's friends and family. They were his only weaknesses.
A week later, Zach was found belly down in the pool in his parents' back yard. After the funeral, Warren disappeared.
And came back as the Black Flame.
Will still doesn't know why he did it. Maybe he thought it was his destiny, but Will thinks destiny is bullshit. Warren's powers are his own to use how he chooses. He could have burned his fingers down Will's spine, but instead he throws fireballs at Mister Invisible. It pisses Will off to no end, but he stops that line of thought. Yes, he'd rather be the one fighting Warren, but for him, they don't just fight. They fuck as they fuck each other over. They fuck with their eyes, they fuck with their fists, they fuck with every gesture and curse and oh God Warren's just made a ring of fire around himself and Will squeezes his dick and ohmygod need contact, need skin, need—
He gets his jeans unzipped and when his hand closes around his dick—finally, finally—he squeezes to stave off the orgasm he knows will come soon. He distantly hears the sound of his flesh pumping in his hand, but mostly he hears the sound of Warren's roar as Mister Invisible shoots him with a ray-gun that paralyzes his left arm. Will has dreams of that roar, that angry growl muted to pure sexual energy pouring over Will's body in vibration after vibration as Warren pounds into him, Will invulnerable and so easily broken with Warren leaning over him, hair in Will's face and getting in his eyes.
The end of the fight is near now. Will knows he can almost let himself go. Across the bottom of the screen, there is news of a house burning down in Will's area and a gunfight downtown that injured two men and a police officer. Will ignores them. Will is watching Warren set Mister Invisible on fire with a burst of flame from his right hand. He watches as Mister Invisible runs in a circle and drops to the ground, rolling frantically. Then he leaves off watching him, because Warren is conjuring a wall of flames around Mister Invisible and laughing, laughing like something has cracked inside him that Will couldn't seem to fix.
His erection lags a bit and Will concentrates on the way Warren's hair whips in the flames, the way the red in it lights up in the flying sparks. The way there is fire in Warren's eyes, and it's not from the flames before him.
Warren turns to the camera and the view jumps before holding steady. For a moment it seems he is looking right into Will's eyes. He points, mouths "I'm coming for you," and hurls a burst of flame. The camera goes dark, and so does Will's vision as he comes on his hand, on his jeans, on the coffee table and the red carpet.
When he opens his eyes, the newscaster is back on. Wiping off his hand with tissues from the box kept conveniently on the table, he stops the recording and wipes up the table and himself as best he can. Warren will come for him someday, he knows. And when he does, Will's not sure what he'll do.