Working night shifts was one of Reed Richards’ worse habits. He enjoyed the privacy and quiet surroundings at night; no permanent disturbances, a lot less noise, and a lot more time to work.
So he regularly kept up all night, going to bed only when the sun would rise outside, and at times, his bizarre sleep schedule would prevent him from seeing the rest of the team for days on end. They’d gotten used to it by now, and Reed suspected that Sue cancelled some of his engagements for him when he was on a bad sleep roll again.
Tonight is one of those nights, and Reed has been sitting in his private lab for hours on end, typing at calculations and brainstorming new inventions.
Suddenly, Reed hears something stir in the otherwise complete silence of the lab, and freezes in his chair, hands still on the touch screen.
He immediately knows it’s not Sue putting her arms around him. Whenever Susan does this, all he feels is warmth and comfort. Right now, he feels danger, the hair on the back of his neck standing in gooseflesh, reacting to the sudden, almost hostile contact.
He feels breath ghosting over his ear, and a well-known deep voice says:
“Victor.” Reed says, and he really, really hopes that his voice sounds shaky only to himself.
“How did you get in here?”
Victor gives a chuckle. “Your security measures are pathetic, Richards. I know you refuse to acknowledge the dark arts, but that you would be so naïve as to ignore them…” Reed assumes Victor shakes his head at that. It certainly sounded like it.
One of Victor’s hands leave Reed’s chest to run through his hair, almost caressing. Reed can’t help a shiver and immediately hates himself.
“Oh, and also...”
Reed hisses as a sharp spike of pain runs through him; that only makes Victor tighten the brutal grip he suddenly has on Reed’s hair.
“That’s Doom to you.”
Reed says nothing. His mind is busy running every possible scenario for getting out of this potentially very dangerous situation, when another sharp tug to his already tousled hair forces him back to the present.
“I said, that’s Doom to you.”
Reed runs the risk of giving Victor what he wants versus the one of not giving him what he wants, then throws those calculations right out his imaginary window of reasoning and decides for the latter.
“I heard you, Victor. No need to pull my hair, even if you really seem to like doing that.”
Right after the words leave Reed’s mouth, he immediately regrets them. (Well, technically, Victor makes him regret them, Reed thinks, but he probably didn’t need to. One usually regrets angering Doom all by themselves.)
Victor rapidly spins Reed’s chair around and yanks Reed to his feet by the collar of his shirt. He’s facing Victor now. He’s wearing an elegant three-piece suit that probably cost a fortune, and it always amazes Reed how a man of this incredible intelligence managed to also look quite this handsome; Victor’s brown, slightly curly hair that matches the color of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way his upper lip twists when he’s angry.
Right now, Victor’s mouth crooks in a smirk that does very little to hide its cruel intent. Reed assumes Victor didn’t even want to try. His tone is venomous when he speaks, but not without amusement.
“Feeling cocky, Richards? Good. Either way, you shall bend to the will of Doom. If I have to hurt you for it, all the better…”
And oh god, does it hurt. Reed goes to his knees screaming as flaming agony runs through his body with a force he could never comprehend; magic was indeed beyond Reed’s scope. But Reed forces himself to quiet; he bites his lip to stop the raw sound leaving his throat. He refuses to give Victor the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
Victor cocks his head, and as quickly as it came, the pain is gone, as is Victor’s hand.
Victor smiles. “Indeed… as I expected. Always the proud one. I should have known you needed a more…personal treatment,” he says, and before Reed can react, Victor’s crushing grip, iron even without armor, is at his throat.
Reed gasps, both for surprise and for breath, because what is even happening, he didn’t see this coming, and the sensation of Victor’s bare hand around his throat is almost too much. He grabs Victor’s arm, claws at his adversary, tries to stretch out of his grip, but finds that he is unable to. The realization and inevitably ensuing panic flash across Reed’s face, and he imagines Victor’s smile becomes just a hint darker.
Never. Reed tries to lash out, to kick Victor, but his feeble attempts are only met with amusement. He’s never been able to match Victor’s physical strength without his powers, and he’s running out of air, his vision already starting to swim at the edges. Desperation creeps into Reed’s thoughts.
He doesn’t doubt for a moment that Victor would choke him, and at this rate, it’ll happen rather sooner than later. But still, Reed refuses to beg. Mr. Fantastic will not be reduced to begging, even in the face of death, but he could…compromise.
The single word leaves Reed’s mouth with a cough.
Victor releases him. Reed crumples to the floor, coughing and holding his throat, catching his breath. Victor watches him, the smirk never leaving his face.
“Very good, Richards. That’s at least a start.”
Reed can’t muster the courage to look up quite yet. He keeps panting, looking away, ashamed not only because he gave in, but because the straining sensation in his pants proves he enjoyed it. He hates it, hates that Victor always does this to him, hates that being choked half to death by an evil genius arouses him, but he can’t help it; can’t help the way Victor’s bare hands feel on his skin, the way Victor’s commanding voice makes Reed want to throw himself at his arch-nemesis’ feet.
Reed is momentarily torn from self-disgust when he feels Victor’s hand on his jaw, forcing him to face his enemy. Victor crouches next to him, the look in his eyes similar to sympathetic. Reed somehow forgets to scuttle away.
Victor runs his thumb over Reed’s lower lip, seemingly absent-minded. Reed stops his breath for a long moment. Victor turns away and rises to his feet, pulling Reed’s chair over and sitting on it, legs crossed. His gaze assesses Reed, who is still on his knees on the floor recovering from Victor’s rough handling.
When Reed tries to get up, Victor’s hand on his shoulder stops him. Reed’s adversary shakes his head.
“Now, now, no need to leave quite this quickly. I do like this view, you know.” And, leaning down towards Reed, he adds, “it would seem you like it, too.”
Reed genuinely hopes his cheeks only feel like they’re burning as he steadies himself to meet Victor’s gaze. When he raises his head, he’s only allowed a short look at Victor’s towering form in his chair before Victor roughly pulls him closer, Reed’s face hitting Victor’s thigh.
The sensation overwhelms Reed, and Victor knows, how his smell and the feel of the suit trousers’ expensive fabric make Reed’s head spin.
It takes Reed a moment to realize their positions. Victor look at him with a raised eyebrow, and Reed responds with a look that mixes disgust and anger (and desire, but Reed fools himself into thinking Victor misses it.)
Victor gives a crooked smile, the kind that twists Reed’s insides, and leans closer.
“You know you want this, Richards. Go ahead. Humor me. Let’s see how you do.”
Reed briefly considers the options, but before he really wants it, his hands are travelling up Victor’s thighs, relishing the touch even through fabric. He carefully undoes Victor’s belt, not finding the courage within him to meet his eyes.
Reed pulls Victor’s underwear down, just enough to release Victor’s cock, and runs his hand up his adversary’s half-hard erection. Victor hums approvingly, and Reed does look up at him now, Victor’s eyes gleaming and the condescending smile still on his face. Reed locks eyes with him, and licks a wet stripe up Victor’s length.
Victor’s face remains unmoved, but his eyes become glazed, if just for a moment, and it’s enough for Reed to take him in fully, not even bothering with lengthy foreplay.
Victor gives a small groan and strokes Reed’s hair, almost gently, but with the distinct air of rewarding a pet. Reed can’t quite bring himself to care, the sensation of actually having Victor’s cock inside his mouth, the taste of his skin, completely taking his attention.
Reed hollows his cheeks and sucks, bobbing his head, and earns a low growl from Victor in response. Reed himself is fully hard now, achingly so, but he doesn’t dare move his hands off Victor’s thighs, for fear of punishment (though he’s not sure he would really mind that).
Victor watches him, amusement in his eyes, and slowly sheds his suit jacket, opens the vest underneath and undoes his shirt buttons. Reed watches with rapt attention, Victor’s bare marble chest an invitation he isn’t willing to refuse. Reed pulls back slowly and mouths at Victor’s flawless skin below his navel, the smell driving him nearly insane.
He wants this, he wants it bad, and no amount of common sense or shame is going to stop him. Reed drags his hands up Victor’s chest, licks at his nipples, and Victor lets him, which may be the worst punishment of all. Reed reaches Victors neck, wanting nothing more than to put marks on that flawless skin, but restrains himself, knowing that Victor would definitely not approve.
He licks his enemy’s (…?) jaw instead, and before he knows it, he’s kissing Victor in earnest, his lips meeting Victor’s in a rough movement. Victor kisses back, shoves his tongue into Reed’s mouth, and Reed can’t help a small groan. He feels Victor smile against the kiss at that, and Reed knows he’s lost.
He doesn’t resist when Victor pulls him up into his lap. Instead, he fists his hands into Victor’s hair and deepens the kiss, beyond caring for Victor’s potential disapproval. Victor hasn’t bothered with fixing his pants, and when Reed’s painfully hard cock meets Victor’s through the fabric of Reed’s trousers, Reed actually moans, loudly so, and Victor uses this opportunity to drive his tongue back into Reed’s open mouth.
Reed takes it, sucks willingly on Victor’s tongue, and lets Victor bite his lower lip, even when he worries the skin enough to bruise and draw blood, he just can’t resist the sweet poison that is Victor’s taste in his mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, Victor slightly moves his hips, and Reed pulls back with a gasp; the friction on Reed’s cock is almost painful with how good it is. It’s exactly what Reed needs, and he involuntarily juts back at Victor, instinct taking over his body; it takes all of his willpower not to keep going.
Victor gives him a disapproving look.
“Really, Richards? A little late for undue self-restraint, don’t you think? No need to be shy.”
Victor’s voice is like dripping honey that barely disguises the venom underneath, and Reed feels his gut twist at Victor’s tone. He wants Victor’s insults, and all hopes of keeping at least this perversion to himself fade when Victor keeps talking.
“Just say what you want me to do, Richards. There’s no need to throw yourself against me like that. I am a generous sovereign, after all…” Victor runs his fingers down Reed’s cheek, a dangerous caress. He leans his head closer to Reed, so his lips brush Reed’s ear when he speaks:
“Just say it. What’s the point in holding back?”
Reed lowers his gaze, his face burning with humiliation. He knows that Victor is right, and it tears him apart. He wants Victor so badly, wants the pain and the disgrace and the insults, wants Victor to use him in every way he can think of, but it’s wrong, so wrong, and yet it’s all Reed can think of when the words leave his mouth, barely a whisper:
Victor grins triumphantly, his eyes dark. But Reed knows he hasn’t heard enough yet, that his arch-nemesis would never let this moment pass too quickly.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch you there.”
Reed closes his eyes in shame, and repeats himself.
“I said…touch me.”
“What’s the magic word, Richards?” Victor says, toying with Reed to his very limits, and when Reed doesn’t answer, Victor runs his hand up Reed’s crotch ever so lightly. It kills Reed, he needs this, and so he grits his teeth and says:
Victor’s eyes grow even darker, and so does his smile when he finally, finally touches Reed properly, and Reed can’t help but buck up into Victor’s palm. Victor pulls Reed’s pants and underwear down in one swift movement, and Reed hisses when his hard cock is exposed to the chill laboratory air.
Reed turns his head away and closes his eyes. Being this exposed, this vulnerable was mortifying, and yet it turned him on to no end, being in Victor’s control and at his mercy, taking his orders, taking him.
Victor strokes Reed roughly, and Reed whimpers, the touch like a revelation and a torture at the same time. He feels Victor grab his jaw and yank his head around, and Reed opens his eyes.
“Look at me, Richards. Keep your eyes open when your king speaks.”
This is enough, Reed thinks, and even though he knows it’s a lie, he gives a defiant, bitter smile and spits in Victor’s face.
Victor immediately stills, like he’s been hit, and he gives Reed a look that could kill. That might kill. Victor raises his hand and wipes his face.
Reed thinks he’s prepared for Victor’s punishment. He isn’t.
Victor hits him in the face with the back of his hand, and it hurts, but the shame hurts even more, being slapped in the face like a servant. Victor roughly grabs Reed’s neck, not choking but not just touching, either, a clear threat. Victor’s voice is low and dangerous when he speaks.
“Richards. I shall give you a choice now. You can either apologize for that and beg me to forgive you, or you can feel pain like you never have before in your pitiful life. It’s up to you.”
Red swallows heavily. He knows that Victor means it, and judging from his earlier experience, he isn’t lying about the pain. The choice is simple, really.
“I’m sorry…I…forgive me.”
The hold around Reed’s throat tightens.
Reed grimaces. He knows the words easily enough. He’s said them before, in the dead of night when no one heard them, when he was touching himself thinking of Victor doing just this. Spilling them out is a different matter, though; but Reed swallows the pitiful rest of his pride and says:
“I’m sorry. Please…forgive me…master.”
It’s exhilarating, being so utterly at Victor’s mercy, stripped of his powers, all but helpless in his enemy’s grasp. His cock twitches at the fulfillment of this dark fantasy, regardless of the real danger involved.
Victor’s eyes impossibly grow darker still, and when he speaks, his voice has a breathless edge to it; there’s no denying Victor loves this.
“Very good, Richards. Doom forgives you. Now…”
Victor leans closer, whispering in Reed’s ear again.
“Do you want me to take you, right here and now?”
Reed has given up his resistance.
“Yes, master, please.”
“You are a shameless whore, Richards. But very well, Doom shall grant your wish.”
Reed shivers at the untypically vulgar insult. But before he can think any further on it, Victor rams two fingers inside him, completely without warning, and Reed can’t hold back the quiet scream that tears from his throat. It doesn’t hurt per say, but the sensation is odd, with Reed having to slowly relax himself instead of immediately stretching with every opposing force.
Victor’s fingers are slicked up, probably with magic, Reed thinks, but it registers only distantly as Reed tries to adjust to the sudden intrusion. Victor’s moving his hand already, cutting Reed no slack as he roughly fucks him with his hand.
Reed makes tiny whimpers with every other thrust, and he thinks he could come already if Victor kept this up, but then Victor curls his fingers just so, and Reed gives a pathetic sound as Victor hits his prostate.
Victor grins, and Reed knows he’s given himself away, but there’s no helping it; Victor adds a third finger, and now it does hurt, but Reed wants this, he wants it to hurt.
After a while, Victor seems to think Reed is ready, and Reed allows him to maneuver himself so that Reed’s opening is just above Victor’s cock. Reed can feel the head pushing in, slightly leaking precome, and then Victor practically impales Reed on his cock.
The sensation tears another drawn-out moan from Reed. Victor is big, and balls-deep within Reed, and Reed doesn’t really know where up and down is any more. Suddenly, Victor gets up, buried in Reed, and shoves him roughly onto his back on an empty lab desk. The impact briefly knocks the air out of Reed, but Victor doesn’t wait, thrusting into Reed with a rhythm that Reed quickly picks up on.
He wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders, he wants nothing more than to touch Victor, to feel him underneath his hands, and Victor lets him.
Reed’s eyes are closed, but he can’t resist opening them to see Victor’s expression: His gaze half-lidded, fixated on Reed’s face, watching his every expression as Victor fucks him ever harder. The sight is exquisite, and Reed just gives up keeping his voice in check.
“Oh god, Victor, yes, please, harder, oh, Victor, Victor…”
Reed’s barely aware of what he’s saying, he just wants Victor to keep this up, to keep thrusting inside him, and Victor doesn’t punish him this time for using his first name.
Reed wraps his legs around Victor, wanting to pull him closer, deeper into him, and then, all of a sudden, Victor is there, coming inside Reed with a groan.
And that’s just too much for Reed, having Victor’s seed inside him, being so utterly taken by him, and Reed comes, too, calling Victor’s name, his vision momentarily whiting out with pleasure.
Victor sags a little, supporting his weight with his arms on the table, but not falling onto Reed, as he had almost expected. Reed is still dizzy, he’s panting and exhausted, and for a few moments, he and Victor say nothing as they recover from their orgasms.
Then Victor pulls out of Reed and starts to fix his appearance. Reed hates the sudden loss of warmth and contact and just lies on the desk for a moment longer, half naked and spent, dirtied with his own come, his arms above his head.
Reed sighs heavily and closes his eyes.
When he opens them again, all he sees is the tinted blur of a deactivated visor.
Reed had developed the simulation helmet for multiple uses, such as piloting, military or medical education, but this was undoubtedly not one of them.
Reed raises his hands and reluctantly removes the helmet.
He knows he should stop this. Reed himself had actually programmed a lock that prevents simulation of real-life people, but naturally, overriding it had been too great a temptation for Reed to possibly resist.
At first, it had been a test, Reed had told himself, to see just how far the simulation went in terms of physical sensations. He hadn’t wanted anyone to suffer neural overload; in the end, it seemed, Reed had been the only one to suffer anything through the device.
It destroys him, Reed thinks, tears him apart on the inside, and yet he can’t find it in himself to stop. Just once more, he keeps saying. The last time he’s actually met Victor in person, he had been in full armor and in the middle of trying to force a Chitauri attack on New York City. The only words they’d exchanged had been insults.
But Reed knows, he knows what Victor hides underneath that unmoving steel façade, and he wants every single piece of it, in any way he can. He craves Victor’s presence, and yet, for all of Reed’s physical and mental resources, it’s the only thing he will never have.
He suspects that Sue knows; Reed’s never been very good at hiding things. But she couldn’t possibly know about...this. The simulations. They’re locked to Reed’s iris scan, a treasure to him, the only opportunity for him to ever be closer to Victor than arm’s length.
Reed puts the helmet back on its stand and gets up, a little unsteady on his feet and doubtlessly in need of a change of clothes. The simulations were very…realistic, after all. It is the middle of the night, the program hadn’t lied about that, and Reed genuinely hopes he won’t bump into Johnny having a “movie night” on Reed’s large-scale projector with one of his dates. Things like that tend to happen around the Baxter Building.
Feeling tired and exhausted, Reed heads for his room and drags himself into the shower. When he’s done, he grabs the first pajamas he finds and practically collapses onto his bed.
Reed curls up underneath his blanket and lets out a quiet sob.
At breakfast next morning, Sue looks at him with the typical expression of fond worry.
“Reed, have you been up all night again? How many times do I have to tell you that your work can wait until you’ve had a proper night’s rest?”
Ben munches on his enormous pile of cereal and nods.
“Yeah, ya look like someone ran ya over with a bulldozer when we weren’t lookin’.”
Reed mumbles something about being fine, takes a large sip of his coffee and buries himself in the morning paper just a little deeper than usual.
The headline says: “Doctor Doom attacks Slorenia. Army of Doombots swarms Vibranium mines”.
Reed swallows and turns the page.