Follow Lu
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Lu slipped silently from the suite, the terrace doors whispering shut behind him. The night air was crisp and thin at this altitude, but to him it felt like silk. He stepped to the railing, glanced once over his shoulder at the darkened bedroom where Charlie lay curled under the covers, then launched himself into the sky.
The moment his feet left the stone, the world changed.
He shot upward like a golden missile, faster than sound, faster than thought. The ice-cold wind screamed past him, but instead of pain it was a lover’s caress—razor-sharp and sensual—tracing every ridge of his abs, swirling around the heavy slabs of his pecs, flicking across nipples that hardened instantly into aching peaks. It whipped between his thighs, teasing the thick length of his cock until it swelled, heavy and full, bobbing against the night air with every supersonic heartbeat.
Lu laughed—wild, delirious, drunk on the sheer impossibility of it all. I’m flying. The thought looped in his mind like a mantra. I’m actually fucking flying. The wind rushed over his flawless golden skin, cooling the heat that still lingered from the shower, yet every gust sent fresh sparks of pleasure racing straight to his groin. A tiny, involuntary moan escaped him; he was half-hard already, the erotic thrill of pure speed and naked freedom pulsing through him in waves.
Even at Mach 3 the world refused to blur. His enhanced senses slowed everything to crystalline clarity. Trees on distant ridges stood out in perfect detail; he could count the veins on every leaf. He focused on a farmhouse far below and saw a woman stepping into her shower, water streaming over her shoulders. Another glance—through the open window of a high-rise apartment miles away—and he read the title page of a book lying on the floor: *Thus Spoke Zarathustra*. He smiled, smug and divine, the wind whipping his golden hair like a banner.
Cities and towns flashed beneath him in heartbeats. Havenridge was a glittering toy set, its lights winking out one by one as midnight deepened. He banked lazily, carving a wide arc over the mountains, feeling the cold air slide between his pecs and tease the sensitive head of his cock. The sensation was almost too much; he had to clench his jaw and focus to keep from coming mid-flight. Not yet, he told himself, grinning. Save it for something worthy.
He slowed, then stopped dead in the air thousands of feet above the earth. Gravity had no claim on him. He hung there, hands planted on his hips in the classic pose of every arrogant god who had ever surveyed his domain. The wind still caressed him, but now it was gentle, playful, swirling around his erection like invisible fingers.
Below, the landscape unfolded in perfect detail.
An isolated gas station sat at the junction of two empty mountain roads, its neon sign flickering weakly. The forecourt was deserted except for a single ATM tucked in a shadowed alcove behind the building—perfectly hidden from the three bored employees inside the brightly lit convenience store. Easy. Quick. A few hundred thousand in unmarked cash, maybe more if the safe was full.
Farther west, deep in the pine-choked folds of the national forest, a narrow dirt track wound between the trees. Five armed men moved single-file along it—drug smugglers, judging by the heavy backpacks and the rifles slung over their shoulders. Moonlight glinted on the barrels. They carried duffels bulging with cash and product, isolated, miles from any road or witness. No one would hear a thing. No one would ever know.
Lu hovered, golden hair drifting in the thin air, cock still proudly erect from the flight and the thrill of choice. His mind raced with wicked delight.
The gas station is simpler, he thought. In and out in thirty seconds. No mess, no bodies. Just cash.
But the smugglers… the smugglers offered sport. Armed men. Real danger—real power to crush. He could feel the cosmic energy humming in his veins, begging to be unleashed. He could rip those rifles apart before the first trigger was pulled. He could take their money, their drugs, their lives if he wanted. The thought sent another hot pulse through his cock.
He floated there, hands on hips, eyes flicking between the two targets, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his angelic face.
The gas station… or the smugglers…
He still hadn’t decided.
The moment his feet left the stone, the world changed.
He shot upward like a golden missile, faster than sound, faster than thought. The ice-cold wind screamed past him, but instead of pain it was a lover’s caress—razor-sharp and sensual—tracing every ridge of his abs, swirling around the heavy slabs of his pecs, flicking across nipples that hardened instantly into aching peaks. It whipped between his thighs, teasing the thick length of his cock until it swelled, heavy and full, bobbing against the night air with every supersonic heartbeat.
Lu laughed—wild, delirious, drunk on the sheer impossibility of it all. I’m flying. The thought looped in his mind like a mantra. I’m actually fucking flying. The wind rushed over his flawless golden skin, cooling the heat that still lingered from the shower, yet every gust sent fresh sparks of pleasure racing straight to his groin. A tiny, involuntary moan escaped him; he was half-hard already, the erotic thrill of pure speed and naked freedom pulsing through him in waves.
Even at Mach 3 the world refused to blur. His enhanced senses slowed everything to crystalline clarity. Trees on distant ridges stood out in perfect detail; he could count the veins on every leaf. He focused on a farmhouse far below and saw a woman stepping into her shower, water streaming over her shoulders. Another glance—through the open window of a high-rise apartment miles away—and he read the title page of a book lying on the floor: *Thus Spoke Zarathustra*. He smiled, smug and divine, the wind whipping his golden hair like a banner.
Cities and towns flashed beneath him in heartbeats. Havenridge was a glittering toy set, its lights winking out one by one as midnight deepened. He banked lazily, carving a wide arc over the mountains, feeling the cold air slide between his pecs and tease the sensitive head of his cock. The sensation was almost too much; he had to clench his jaw and focus to keep from coming mid-flight. Not yet, he told himself, grinning. Save it for something worthy.
He slowed, then stopped dead in the air thousands of feet above the earth. Gravity had no claim on him. He hung there, hands planted on his hips in the classic pose of every arrogant god who had ever surveyed his domain. The wind still caressed him, but now it was gentle, playful, swirling around his erection like invisible fingers.
Below, the landscape unfolded in perfect detail.
An isolated gas station sat at the junction of two empty mountain roads, its neon sign flickering weakly. The forecourt was deserted except for a single ATM tucked in a shadowed alcove behind the building—perfectly hidden from the three bored employees inside the brightly lit convenience store. Easy. Quick. A few hundred thousand in unmarked cash, maybe more if the safe was full.
Farther west, deep in the pine-choked folds of the national forest, a narrow dirt track wound between the trees. Five armed men moved single-file along it—drug smugglers, judging by the heavy backpacks and the rifles slung over their shoulders. Moonlight glinted on the barrels. They carried duffels bulging with cash and product, isolated, miles from any road or witness. No one would hear a thing. No one would ever know.
Lu hovered, golden hair drifting in the thin air, cock still proudly erect from the flight and the thrill of choice. His mind raced with wicked delight.
The gas station is simpler, he thought. In and out in thirty seconds. No mess, no bodies. Just cash.
But the smugglers… the smugglers offered sport. Armed men. Real danger—real power to crush. He could feel the cosmic energy humming in his veins, begging to be unleashed. He could rip those rifles apart before the first trigger was pulled. He could take their money, their drugs, their lives if he wanted. The thought sent another hot pulse through his cock.
He floated there, hands on hips, eyes flicking between the two targets, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his angelic face.
The gas station… or the smugglers…
He still hadn’t decided.
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June 13
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