"You and me, baby, ain't nothin' but mammals, so lets do it like they do on the discovery channel," I sang, dancing as I chopped vegetables on a cutting board. Hands grabbed my swaying hips and I jumped about a foot in the air.

Gabriel was standing behind me with a massive grin on his face. "Bloodhound Gang? Welcome to 1995."

"You scared the shit out of me," I laughed, carefully setting the knife on the counter and turning to wrap my arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry- I scared YOU? This is MY apartment," he pointed out after I kissed him soundly.

"It's your birthday! I was trying to surprise you, but you're," I glanced at the clock on his kitchen wall, "an hour early. What are you doing home?"

"How did you know it's my birthday," he asked with a pleased smile as I played with the short black hairs at the nape of his neck.

"There's something you should know about me," I said seriously. "I'm a CIA sleeper agent. I hacked into a government satellite and found your FBI file."

"Since you just told me, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not a very good one," he said dryly.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You clearly don't believe me, so maybe I'm a VERY good one."

He stared at me for a heartbeat before rolling his eyes. "Peter told you."

I held a hand over my heart. "I cannot betray my sources."

"What about if I bribe you," he leered, squeezing my rear playfully.

"In that case, the allies are attacking Normandy on June 6," I laughed. "Now, shoo, Mr. Gray. You can't be here for another hour. Go find something to do."

Gabriel actually pouted. "But, Herooooooo," he whined, drawing out my name, "it's my apartment."

I laughed. "I don't care. I'm invoking girlfriend birthday privileges. Birthday boy must yield to his girlfriends wishes so she can work her special girlfriend magic."

He eyes me dubiously. "That doesn't sound like a real thing."

"Can you prove it," I challenged, waving a spoon at him. "Didn't think so. Shoo."

Gabriel gave me one of those unreadable, unblinking stares that had a tendency to make people squirm under its intensity, but I had become accustomed to them. I simply arched a challenging eyebrow in return. Finally, he grimaced at me and stalked out of the apartment. I jumped a little when a phantom hand playfully swatted my rear, a second before I heard the door close behind him.

"It's like giving a five year old superpowers," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I turned back to the food.

45 minutes later, his apartment was decorated, there was tons of food keeping warm in the kitchen, and I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup. Gabriel and I had been spending so much time at each other's apartments that, in addition to the mutual exchange of keys, we both had stashes of clothes and toiletries.

I'd even bought new a new dress and lingerie for the occasion, but some pieces were proving more complicated than others. The garter belt, thigh highs, and thong were pretty self explanatory, but I was having problems trying to lace up the corset by myself.

I was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. "Don't look so smug," I glared at the lace-covered contraption as I threw on a dressing gown. The corset just continued to lie on the bed, looking superior in its ability to thwart me. "I have a PhD in Theoretical Physics. This isn't over."

Emma and Peter were at the door, and they looked surprised to see me half dressed. "We're a little early," Peter said, his tone somewhere between apologetic and bewildered.

I stepped aside to let them in. "I'm having some...technical difficulties. Can I borrow you, Emma?"

The surgeon looked confused, but nodded and followed me to the bedroom. "Ah," she said, grasping the situation the second she saw the corset on the bed, her eyes lit up with understanding.

"Surely two doctors can figure out how to beat this monster," I said, shrugging off my robe. Since Emma was both a female and a surgeon, I wasn't fazed by going topless in front of her, and neither was she.

The contraption didn't stand a chance against a combined IQ of 300, and I finally found myself laced up into the satin lingerie. Quickly, Emma helped me into my dress and heels.

With Peter's help (and a little tactical snooping) I'd managed to invite quite a few of Gabriel's friends. We weren't gone for more than ten minutes, but by the time Emma and I returned to the living room, most of them had arrived. Thankfully, Peter had served as host in my absence; music thumped through the room, and everyone had a drink in their hand.

"So, where is the guest of honor," Peter asked as we joined him.

"He should be here any minute. He surprised me by coming home an hour ago, and I had to shoo him away." Peter had wisely pointed out that jumping out and trying to scare someone supercharged like Gabriel probably wasn't a good idea, so it wasn't really a surprise party.

Seeing his wife eyeing the people already dancing to the upbeat music, Peter made a wise choice. "Emma, dance with me." The pretty doctor beamed radiantly at her husband and let him draw her out to the floor.

I decided that I deserved a victory drink after conquering my battle with the medieval torture device, and poured myself a glass of wine before starting my rounds as hostess.

The problem with having large groups of Specials in one area is that, when a phantom hand slides under your skirt as you're chatting with one of your friends, you don't have an immediate idea who the culprit is. As it was, I nearly had a heart attack, and looked around wildly until I spotted a very amused Gabriel watching me over Peter's shoulder as he pretended to listen to what the other man was saying.

Well, two can play at that game.

I smiled coyly at him, our eyes locked across the crowded room, and arched an eyebrow. He frowned slightly. Casually, I took the olive from my martini and ran the tip of my tongue around it slowly, his eyes glued to my mouth, until every drop of liquor was gone. Finally, I bit the well-pleasured olive in half, watching in amusement as Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise and he choked on his drink. I couldn't suppress a little snicker as I watched Peter start pounding him hard on the back.

As I focused back on what my companions were saying, I silently thanked the sales associate who sold me slutty lingerie, and the trashy romance novels I'd been reading recently.

Gabriel had never been one to let himself be one-upped. It became a sort of secret game; he would unexpectedly fondle me, the area getting more and more risqué as the night progressed, and I would subtly eroticize otherwise casual actions, licking wine from my finger or bending over pointedly to adjust my shoe. After a while, we didn't even have to look up or skip a beat in our conversations, just responding to each other from across the room.

I was slightly tipsy when I made my way back from the kitchen and caught sight of him. Gabriel was sitting down, talking with two of his watchmaker colleagues, and for a moment, I just leaned against the doorway and watched him. He was gorgeous no matter, but when he was dressed in black button down and jeans, as he was now, with his hair just slightly mussed from dancing with Emma and his intelligent dark eyes bright with laughter or sharp with focus, he was breathtaking. That he was also intelligent and well-off, to boot, meant that he could have been dating supermodels. I didn't understand it, but he had chosen me, despite the fifteen pounds I could never seem to lose, my nerdy interests, and my tendency to dance and sing badly while doing housework. He was the greatest and most beautiful man I'd ever met, and he was mine.

Pulling myself from the doorframe, I walked over to him. Gabriel didn't hesitate to pull me gently into his lap, careful of our drinks, and wrap his arms around me, resting one dark hand on my hip. "No, Kendall," he was saying, "You're still stuck in the fallacy that antiquity means quality."

"Hero, would you kindly tell your boyfriend that he's an idiot," Kendall asked in good-natured ribbing.

"Sorry, man," I replied with a smile. "For one thing, I sleep beside him. For another, I have no idea what y'all are talking about, but he's probably right."

Kendall pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gray, when I figure out how an ugly son of a bitch like you managed to get a woman like Hero, I'm going to market it and become a very, very rich man. And then I'm going to spend that money on a gigantic billboard outside your window that says 'KENDALL IS RIGHT' in big red letters."

"When that day comes, I'll buy curtains," Gabriel retorted dryly.

"Do you want to dance with me," I interjected before Kendall could deliver a scathing comeback.

"Of course."

I quickly climbed off of his lap and tugged Gabriel to the dance floor. I swatted his arm gently when that sneaky phantom hand began creeping up the inside of my thigh. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to take you into the bedroom right now and have my wicked way with you, and I think it might scar Kendall for life," I warned when he just grinned.

He spun me around so that he was pressed against my back, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "We could just end the party a little early, and you could have your wicked way with me in private." His breath was warm on my neck, and though his corporeal hands were on my waist, that damned phantom hand hadn't stopped moving. I flushed red when it slipped beneath my underwear and started moving through my folds, and hoped desperately that people would blame my feverish panting on our dancing.

"That's an idea," I squeaked, eyes wide. He spun me again so that I was against his chest, and I inhaled sharply when a phantom finger slipped inside me.

"Something wrong," he asked wickedly, dark eyes hot with fire and mischief. Beyond words as the finger began to move, I just let my forehead rest against his chest and focused on breathing. "You know," he whispered in my ear, "we could momentarily retreat to the bathroom."

The finger had begun to grow as it moved, and I could feel the pressure as it repeatedly strokes my g spot, and another finger began stroking my bud. Not daring to speak for fear of screaming, I just nodded and let him guide me through the party to our secluded, private bathroom.

The door closed quietly by itself as soon as we were inside, which was just as good, because I promptly pulled Gabriel's head to mine and started kissing him senseless. The hand between my legs disappeared momentarily. "We have to be very quiet," he growled, pressing me against the bathroom sink.

I hissed when he spun me suddenly and telekinetically yanked my dress off, revealing my corset and lingerie. At the sight, Gabriel let out a quiet moan. "Jesus, woman, you're going to be the death of me."

He slipped a finger beneath the lace thong, generously feeling me up before slipping them aside. "I can't wait," he breathed in my ear, asking permission. In response, I bucked back into his hand helplessly.

In an act that undoubtedly required the use of his powers, Gabriel undid his pants and slipped them down around his thighs a d entered me in one swift move. I arched my back and squealed helplessly in pleasure as he stretched me, filling me up completely. Gabriel pulled back until he was almost out, and then thrust back in, bottoming out against my cervix in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

As he pounded into me, the pressure from being so full and the friction drove me wild. The sounds of slapping flesh filled the room, but were drowned out by the music from the party. He thrust into me over and over, and I quivered in need built from hours of building anticipation. Clearly, he was reading my mind, because a phantom hand gently pinched my clot at exactly the right second. I shattered completely, my core clenching hard around him and making him curse colorfully right before he came. I could feel him spasm deep inside me, spasming as he flooded my womb with his seed.

For a few moments, both of us stood there, locked together, both panting and shaking slightly from the intensity of our mutual release. Finally, reality returned, and Gabriel pressed a kiss to my shoulder before pulling out of me.

Dazed and deeply sated, it took a Herculean force of will to clean myself off. Even when I was clean, I had to lean back against the sink for a moment before even thinking about putting on my dress. Gabriel watched me with distinctly masculine satisfaction and pride at a job well done. "I like the corset," he said, running a hand up to my waist and pulling me against his chest before kissing me thoroughly.

I smiled when he pulled back just enough to press a miss to my nose. "I like the telekinetic long-distance fondling," I teased as my dress floated into my hand.

He snorted as we made ourselves presentable. "You named it?"

"Of course I did. I'm a scientist. I classify everything."

He laughed and kissed me again, this time with quiet affection. "You are so weird."

I held a hand to my ear like a phone. "Oh, Pot, it's for you," I said with mock surprise. "It's Kettle. He says you're a telekinetic, shape shifting watchmaker that avoids a long commute by flying to work."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and opened the door to rejoin the party. "Somehow, I feel like we both just proved our points."