Evening settled over the city in a slow descent of gold and gray, painting the sky in quiet tones. Tracy stood nervously in front of the cracked door of apartment 3B, fidgeting with the sleeve of her coat.
Her hand hovered over the door.
What am I even doing?
She bit her lip, heart thudding a little faster than it should've.
Showing up to the apartment of a guy I don't even know the name of? He could be… I don't know. A liar. Or worse. What if he's some kind of—
Her thoughts were cut off by the sudden creak of a door swinging open.
She jumped slightly, gasping.
There, in the open frame, stood Tyler.
Shirtless.
His white hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead in wet locks, and he was lazily rubbing a towel over his head. In his other hand, a tuna can.
He blinked. Then smiled casually. "Oh, Tracy… already here?"
Tracy's mouth opened, then closed again.
"H-Hum… y-yeah…" she managed, eyes glued to his body.
His chest looked sculpted, every muscle defined, not in a bodybuilder grotesque way—but in the way of some divine athlete carved in marble. Water glistened on his collarbones. His sweatpants hung low, hinting at the V-line of a man who had never skipped ab day.
She had never seen a body like this.
Not in real life. Not even online.
"Are you alright, Tracy? You're all red," Tyler said, towel now resting around his neck, that knowing smirk dancing on his lips.
Her heart stuttered.
"I-I'm fine!" she squeaked, yanking her gaze to the side.
Then, awkwardly, she noticed the tuna box in his left hand.
"Um… why do you have a tuna can?"
"Oh." Tyler turned and pointed to the porch beside her.
There sat a plump, long-haired gray cat, her yellow eyes gleaming with judgmental authority. Like she owned the entire complex.
"I present you… Mrs. Norris," Tyler said, crouching and popping open the can. The cat immediately approached, meowing once before beginning to eat like royalty.
Tracy blinked. Then laughed.
"Mrs. Norris?"
Tyler looked up with a grin. "What?"
"Did you really name your cat after the one from Harry Potter?"
"It's not mine," he said, standing back up. "She belongs to my neighbor. Pretty sure she owns every Funko Pop ever made. And at least three wands."
Tracy laughed again, this time fully, no longer holding back.
"You're not what I expected," she said quietly, her smile softening.
"Good or bad?"
"...Better."
Tyler grinned, stepping aside and gesturing toward the inside.
"Well, wanna come in?"
She paused, then raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. But first… what's your name?"
He blinked. "My name?"
Tracy crossed her arms, mock-stern. "You never told me, mysterious coma man."
"Right…" Tyler chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tyler Byrd."
"Tracy Law," she said, stepping past him into the apartment. "Nice to meet you."
He closed the door behind her, still smiling. "You too, Tracy Law."
Mrs. Norris meowed loudly behind the door, demanding seconds.
...
The living room lights were dim, the soft flicker of Breaking Bad casting shadows across the walls. The sound of Walter White yelling at Jesse played in the background, but neither of them was watching.
Tyler lay sprawled on the couch, and Tracy was on top of him, legs on either side of his hips, her hands cupping his face as their lips moved with increasing urgency.
Her fingers slid into his damp white hair, and he pulled her closer by the waist, deepening the kiss.
After a long, breathless moment, Tracy pulled back slightly, lips flushed, a teasing smile on her face.
"You really know how to kiss…" she whispered, her breath brushing over his skin.
Tyler's eyes, half-lidded and burning with desire, didn't leave hers. "Want some more?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.
Before she could respond, he leaned up and kissed her again, this time slower, deeper—one hand still firm on her waist while the other slid along her thigh, fingers exploring gently, gliding upward until they settled over the curve of her rear, caressing her with confidence and care.
"Hey…" Tracy whispered, her lips still brushing his, voice teasing. "Where are you touching?"
Their breathing was shared, hot and close. She arched an eyebrow, but there was no real resistance—only mischief in her tone.
"Can't I?" Tyler said with a cocky smirk, his hand not moving, but his eyes searching hers for permission.
Tracy didn't answer with words.
She just smiled, then kissed him again—hungrily. Her hands moved from his cheeks down his chest, exploring him like she was memorizing him by feel.
The episode on the TV reached its climax, but in the apartment, the true tension had nothing to do with Heisenberg.
...
The couch creaked rhythmically under them, the soft slap of skin against skin echoing through the apartment in sync with Tracy's breathless moans.
"Ah… ah…" she gasped, hands gripping the cushions, her body trembling with each powerful thrust.
Tyler was behind her, one knee on the couch, the other foot on the floor for leverage. His hands gripped her waist firmly, guiding her hips as he moved. Every motion was precise, deep, and unrelenting—powered by a strength he hadn't possessed until recently.
God… this is insane… he thought, sweat glistening on his back as his pace increased. Being this strong—it changes everything.
There was a time not long ago when he'd have been done in minutes, frustrated with his own limits. But now? Now it had been hours. And he still felt like he was just getting started. Tracy, on the other hand, was already shaking, her voice hoarse from moaning, her body quivering under his touch.
"Tyler…" she gasped as his hand slid up from her waist to gently hold her chin, guiding her face toward him.
He leaned in, their lips meeting in a messy, breathless kiss.
"Tracy…" he whispered against her lips. "Want another round?"
He didn't stop thrusting, even as he spoke, his voice laced with teasing energy.
Her eyes fluttered, dazed and overwhelmed. "What? Y-You still have… ah… energy…?" she managed to breathe out, her legs beginning to give out beneath her.
And then, with a final moan and a trembling shudder, Tracy went limp. Her body slumped forward onto the couch, her breath shallow, eyes closed.
"…Tracy?" Tyler slowed to a stop, blinking. He leaned over her, gently brushing hair away from her cheek.
She was asleep. Completely out.
A small, proud—yet sheepish—smile tugged at his lips.
"Guess I overdid it," he murmured, carefully wrapping a nearby blanket around her and sitting down beside her on the couch, stroking her back softly.
The TV, still playing Breaking Bad, now seemed like distant white noise. Tyler looked at the ceiling and sighed. He was still hard.
This new body… it's something else.
He leaned back, and looked down at Tracy again.
"…Definitely gonna need to take it easier next time."
To be continued...
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How was this chapter guys? Liked it? It's my first R18 chapter so I hope you liked it.
Also, I want to make an OC metahuman, can you guys suggest me a power for him?