A/N: A new Flintilda fic! Yay! I haven't written one of these in what seems like a very long time.

I'm also experimenting with this one – I have never posted anything this . . . mature, shall we say. I'm not even sure whether or not it needs to be in the dreaded M category. It's certainly not explicit. I don't think they swear once in the whole thing. It gets a little bit past first base, but hardly. But I really want to be safe, and I don't want flames for it. If you think it should be moved, though, please tell me.

Even though it's more steamy than usual (if you can describe it like that – I'm not saying I'm a romance novelist), I tried to make it as IC as possible for teenage!Flintilda. I may have downplayed Flinch's dangerously confident side to practical nonexistence, but I think it's justified given the situation.

Please enjoy! R&R!

The window in the back was slightly opened, the evidence that it was the way she had entered the room. Matilda had left it open in case she needed to make a hasty escape. Flinch's parents were arguably much more liberal than her own, but it was doubtful that they would be happy discovering their son and his girlfriend doing all manner of unmentionable things on his bed.

They were only kissing. Really. It was close, and it was deep, and there was occasionally some brief touching of some kind, but that was only because this was the only time they actually had to be truly intimate.

When together during the day, Flinch and Matilda were usually at school or at work, neither of which were exactly appropriate places to vocally act on their affections. In the halls they could hold hands, but anything more prompted ridicule from Brett Bealer and Co.

The Playground was more secluded, so they could kiss and flirt with no consequences. Still, it was a professional environment, so kisses were kept short and chaste. It seemed to happen more often now that one of them would get in trouble on a mission (usually something involving falling) and the other would have to save them, and that was rewarded with a longer, affectionate kiss. But then they still had to get back to work quickly after.

So it wasn't surprising just how often they would sneak through each other's windows just to fool around a bit. Matilda got to Flinch's second-story bedroom by flight, as one might expect, while he had to climb the tree outside her window. The encounter usually then began with an embrace, then some personal discussion about the day's events. Matilda was able to honestly express her adoration of Flinch's fidgety awkwardness, which he seemed to have more of at these times. He might have felt nervous about being alone with her.

And then, making sure the door was securely closed, they would sit on the bed and simply make out. Matilda always initiated some fully-clothed groping, but once they got to a certain point they would stop. They were just happy to be in each other's company, and neither of them was ready to abuse that.

Still, it was intimate enough that they didn't want their parents to know about it. Flinch nervously eyed the door as he brushed Matilda's hair away from her eyes. She tilted her head so their noses were touching and her lips pressed more snugly against his. His lips seemed to quiver fearfully, weak enough for her to push her tongue past them.

Flinch's tongue was like a curious fish, darting in wonder around its partner, but still cowardly. It was almost reluctant to journey in lustful dance along with Matilda's, unless she was the first to urge it to. It withdrew whenever she did, and Flinch seemed thoroughly frightened to have it do anything else.

Usually, Matilda would humor him and be the one to take control. If she initiated any of the fooling around, then he would follow suit and eventually they would both be doing the same amount of work.

But today, Matilda wanted a change. Her boyfriend had a gung-ho attitude about practically everything else, and it was upsetting to see him be so nervous about something.

He was a good kisser. Really, he was, but he just wasn't assertive about it. At all. Matilda thought he needed more confidence romantically.

So tonight, she was going to hold back a bit. If she wasn't the aggressive one, maybe Flinch might start trying to see what he could do.

But that wasn't the effect it had at all. Instead, after several minutes of simple kissing, sitting up on top of the bed, and nothing happening, Flinch slowed down and backed away from Matilda, visibly confused.

"What's wrong?" Matilda asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Flinch stuttered. "I was, uh, going to ask you the same thing. What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not –" Flinch smiled in slight embarrassment. "You're not jumping on me like you usually do. Is something the matter?"

"Well . . . " Matilda hadn't been expecting to have to explain herself. "I noticed that I'm usually the more aggressive one here, and I wanted to hold back so you could have a chance."

Flinch was slow to pick up the gist of what she was saying. But after a few moments passed, his eyes widened and he backed away from her. "You're talking about sexual dominance?" he questioned, panicked. "No, no, I couldn't. I can't."

"Why not?" Matilda reached for him, gently grasping his hand and moving her fingers soothingly up his arm.

At his shoulder, she hit a bump underneath his shirt. He looked her in the eye in affirmation and pulled his shirt back to reveal his shoulder. Over it was the dull metal strap of his harness. "That's why," Flinch said. "I don't want to hurt you."

Matilda pushed his hand away and ran her hand over the exposed strap. She knew she couldn't ask him to take the harness off. It was a part of him. And it was also what held all of his power. Power enough to save the world, and thus potentially dangerous. Or so Flinch seemed to think.

But Matilda knew him as well as he knew himself, and they were both aware that he had all the might he needed to control his strength. Maybe it was hard for him, who knew. But caressing the solid metal of the suit right now, it stopped seeming dangerous and instead appeared to develop another kind of potential.

"If you're careful," she whispered, "I'm sure you won't hurt me. At least, not too much."

Two days ago, Matilda had been involuntarily dragged into conversation with Mindy Beauchamp on one of her periodic visits. The wintry blonde had apparently wanted to engage in girl talk, which Matilda was not at all comfortable with. She and Mindy were as different as could be, and for a preppy older girl, Mindy was surprisingly inept at those kinds of social interactions. The conversation had veered into the murky topic of boyfriends, harmless on its own but rather disgusting when it got into hearing intimate details of each others' lives.

"Listen, Matilda. I personally think what you and Flinch have is adorable as hell," Mindy said. "But it saddens me a bit to hear that you two are so chaste."

"We are sixteen . . . " Matilda grumbled.

"My logic being," Mindy continued, "that you are sixteen and thus less than two years away from losing those superpowers of yours. You two are the only ones on the team whose powers aren't disgusting. Could you imagine Jackson using that behemoth in his mouth to try and seduce me? No ma'am. But you have Flinch's super strength and super speed at your disposal. I hope I'm not sending the wrong message by saying that if you use those the right way – you know, intimately – it could be kind of sexy."

Matilda stared blankly at her for a few moments. "This conversation is over," she said flatly.

The whole thing had grossed her out beyond belief. But Matilda had trouble admitting to herself that she had been thinking about Mindy's words incessantly for the past two days. At first, it seemed like the insufferable blonde had been making inappropriate references to obscure fetishes of some kind, but then she remembered her own chagrin with Flinch's lack of self-esteem. Her super-strong boyfriend, afraid to show dominance? It sounded more ridiculous the more she thought about it.

It was a foregone conclusion. They were lovers with superpowers, and at some time or another, they were going to have to experiment somehow with (ahem) just what those powers were capable of doing. And not just to test out some disgusting kink. It would lend an excuse to show Flinch just what he could do on his own.

"Maybe I'll try next time. Yeah, I'll try to remember to take the harness off first. Of course, then I would be shaking too much –" Flinch argued tangentially.

Matilda held both of his shoulders. "No, no, I'm saying that you should use it now!" she explained.

Flinch placed his hands behind his back, presumably to shield them from whatever ploy Matilda was trying to pull. She could tell that he was wringing them. "What exactly are you saying?" he stuttered.

"What I'm saying," Matilda answered as she reached behind him and brought his arms back around, "is that when it comes to fooling around, a guy with super strength could use it in a way that's kind of . . . hot."

Flinch knit his eyebrows and frowned and her. He didn't say a word in response.

"Just kiss me. You already do that, so it shouldn't be a problem. I won't do anything, so when you feel comfortable, you can just hold me down."

Flinch grimaced. "I'm not sure about this . . . " he mumbled.

"Just try it," Matilda urged him. She leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

She left Flinch smiling. Evidently, there was something about that method that made her argument irresistible to him. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll try." Warily, he leaned forward and kissed her. At first, he kept his lips squarely on hers. It was conventional and safe, and he seemed as frightened by it as usual.

But after a moment, he realized that she really wasn't going to take the lead this time. And that was when, as if by magic, he gained a whole slew of courage. Matilda first felt his lips parting gradually, opening hers along with them. Then a quick head-roll shared between them. And then, with a hand placed warmly on her cheek, Flinch really began to kiss.

His tongue ran along the outside of Matilda's lower lip. She reacted with a sharp breath in, but any and all fear of an asthma attack subsided when Flinch responded with husky breathing of his own. He planted deep, wet kisses on the corners of her mouth and below her lip. She shivered at not just this, but his hands, which were beginning to explore.

Well, really, they were just slithering down her neck, but he did it with an undeniable firmness that only grew when he reached her arms. His strong hands clamped around them, freezing them, sending previously unknown sparks through Matilda's body. Matilda trembled. She had never trembled under these circumstances before. She melted more and more into a shaking pile of animal needs as Flinch straddled her and pressed her back against the headboard.

Just as an experiment, Matilda tried to squirm free from him. He noticed and fiercely shoved her back, kissing more passionately as he did. Her body was dragged down, and it made Flinch taller than she, towering over her form and having to hold her down just to kiss her.

It was so weird. But only because this was the most sexual thing they had ever done as a couple. Otherwise, it felt strangely right. Because Flinch wasn't weak. He was one of the most powerful people in the world, and he was finally realizing what that meant.

When he dug his fingers into her arms, Matilda whimpered at the sudden sting she felt – not exactly in pain, of course. This still caused Flinch to suddenly stop what he was doing to give her a worried look and ask, "I'm not hurting you, am I? I'm so sorry, I'll stop if you want me to –"

"Flinch!" Matilda interrupted. "It's fine. I'm fine. Please don't stop, okay? You're making progress!"

"I'm still going to tone it down a bit," Flinch asserted. He pressed his forehead against his girlfriend's and added in a whisper, "I really, really don't want to hurt you."

Matilda smiled. He really did care too much, didn't he? "Okay," she agreed.

Flinch smiled back and planted a far-gentler kiss on her lips. He loosened his grip on her arms and moved his legs so she was no longer lying between them. Then he paused yet again in thought, after which he gave her a mischievous look.

Before she knew it, Flinch had wrapped his arms around Matilda's shoulders and allowed himself so fall onto his side, pulling her down with him. She giggled as she hit the soft mattress, but only before he leaned towards her, kissing her adoringly.

Maybe this was better. Flinch was still the one taking initiative, but at the same time he wasn't coming so close as to practically be torturing her. It was probably best not to make the situation seem more sexual than is actually –

At least, that was Matilda's thought before Flinch removed his hand from behind her neck and, with little build-up at all besides nodding his head slightly to give her a signal, slowly slipped his hand under her shirt.

Forget about over-sexualization. This felt so right. Matilda kissed him back just to let him know he was allowed to go on with this.

Flinch began to toy with the fabric at the front of her bra. He twisted it around his fingers, dug it against her skin underneath, tugged at the bottom – but wait.

"Flinch," Matilda said, breaking away from him in confusion. "It's a sports bra. It doesn't unhook."

"Not what I'm going for," Flinch responded breathlessly. He bit his lip in concentration and pressed his thumb into the cloth as hard as he could without the risk of drawing blood. Matilda's eyes opened wide when he managed to tear right through the fabric and rip her bra right up the front, moving his thumb across the cut like a scissor blade. Flinch rolled her onto her back, and she felt the unmentionable garment fall into halves at either side of her.

She was still wearing a shirt, but skin that had previously never been explored (for the record, not even by herself) was in her boyfriend's reach. Matilda could no longer tell whether it still felt right or if they were going too far when Flinch rested his hand on the bare center of her chest.

Both his skin and hers were getting clammy, and somehow, together they felt almost . . . cold.

Flinch seemed unsure as well. His hand froze, unable to move from its new position. Any shaking left in the rest of his body seemed to stop as well. He just lay there for what had to be at least a minute, staring at the bump his motionless hand made under Matilda's shirt.

Eventually, he blinked. With a sigh and an easy smile, he brought his hand out and said, "As the leader here, I say that we don't have to go any further tonight."

Matilda grinned, relieved, and sat up along with him. "Do you think it's time for me to go?"

"I don't want you to go," Flinch answered. "But based on what I can hear, I might have to go down to dinner soon."

Indeed, there was some clattering of plates audible through the floor of the bedroom. Matilda tilted her head and suggested, "I could always stay for dinner."

Flinch laughed. "I'd have some serious explaining to do if you did," he said. "And so would you. You know, about why you're not, uh . . . properly supported."

Matilda did feel uncomfortably exposed. This bra was also ruined, but she didn't mention it. Instead, she just laughed along as the duo stood up and headed for the window. She hefted the parted window up the rest of the way, slipped her old boots on, and turned around to give Flinch one more kiss.

"I'm so proud of you!" she told him. "If you hadn't stepped out of your comfort zone, we would have never made it that far." Then, she stuck one leg out the window and prepared herself to jump.

"It hardly matters how far we got," Flinch responded as Matilda swung her other leg around. "It just matters that I got to spend time with you." At that, Matilda turned her head back, gave him a wink, and pushed herself off the ledge.

But Flinch knew she'd never leave without a goodbye. Before she tumbled to her death, Matilda whipped out her inhalers and lifted herself into the air. And he was still there waiting for her when she stopped to hover outside the window.

"That's all that matters," he repeated. "I love you."

"I love you too," Matilda replied with a smile.

Both of them leaned towards each other with the same initiative and the same vigor. The goodbye kiss was the one thing that didn't need a leader, as the unspoken rule. And after the kiss, they would look into one another's eyes, just to let the moment linger.

Eventually, though, someone would have to say "Good night." This time, they both said it at the same time. Matilda released the plungers on her inhalers, letting herself drift to the ground. Flinch slowly closed the window. They shared one final look before Matilda ran off against the dim evening light. She felt loved. Whether or not the pieces of her bra were flapping against her sides in an ungainly fashion as she ran. Whether or not her boyfriend was the strongest young man alive.

Whether she initiated their fun or if he did. Either way, they were in love. She would remember this, but she would never tell Mindy about it. Because that wasn't what mattered.

A/N: Phew! Hope it wasn't too awful. Halfway through writing this I gave up on it and didn't look at it again for a whole month. I'm trying to delve into the more mature grounds of fanfic recently – the next fic in line to be written is a Hetalia retelling of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and in humanized terms, bombing means stabbing – but being fourteen I can't be sure that I do it well.

Please, if you enjoyed it, tell me in a review.