Chapter Text
"I worked hard at not thinking of all I'd left behind -- of everything I'd probably never see again. But whenever dreams came by night -- or waking dreams by day -- whenever I saw before me the faces of my old friend Ben -- of young Johnny --
"Of you most of all, Sue --
“I thought I might just go mad."
Fantastic Four Unlimited, issue 12
Reed Richards was exhausted.
It had been days since he'd last slept or even taken a break. The complex topological diagrams seemed to waver drunkenly on the monitors in his lab, and none of his calculations made sense. He knew that he needed to stop or at least close his eyes for a moment so that his brain could rest and reset, but there was no time. Not a single spare minute. He had to push through, regain his focus, find the solution for the latest crisis and find it now. What good was he, otherwise?
"Reed."
Sue's voice was quiet, gentle. It broke through his exhaustion, swept away his hopelessness and despair. He leaned back in his chair and watched her approach, thinking vaguely that it must be very late, or perhaps far too early; her blonde hair was sleep-rumpled, and her feminine form was wrapped in a bathrobe that matched the vivid blue of her eyes. She cupped the side of his face, and the warmth of her palm against his skin made him think of the bed she'd left to come find him.
Why was he in his lab? He couldn't remember. When she bent to press her lips to his, all the details of what he’d been working on, all the urgency, melted away. He tangled his fingers into her hair, and the soft moan of pleasure she made into his mouth was immediately intoxicating. Greedy for more, he pulled her into his lap, where she straddled him, face to face, her gaze intent and hungry. Their mouths met again, her tongue against his lips, urging them open. And now it was her turn to tangle her hands into his hair, her grip tightening as he slipped his hands inside her robe and palmed her breasts, one thumb circling a taut nipple.
The robe slid off Sue's shoulders with no resistance, and Reed found himself suddenly desperate to feel her, skin against skin. The close-fitting blue and white uniform, which he usually barely noticed, now seemed too tight, too confining. He was starving, he was dying, he needed her, he needed this.
He must have said something, mumbled it between deep, breath-stealing kisses, or perhaps she just knew. It was an awkward scramble, neither wanting to take hands (or mouth) off the other, but between Sue’s deft use of her invisible force powers and Reed’s inhuman flexibility, they managed the task, and Sue pressed herself against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around (and around, and around) her body.
The frantic desperation passed; she was here, the clock had paused, nothing else existed. He stroked her slowly, reveling in the warmth of her skin, the slick heat between her legs. She demanded more, her breath hot on his neck, and he obliged, his fingers swelling to fill her. Her hips rolled in time with the thrust of his hand, her clit brushing against his cock, and Reed closed his eyes and buried his face into the golden waves of her hair. He wanted to be inside her, feel her clench and spasm around him when she came, but for the moment it was enough to hold her like this, with her body rocking against him, her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair, her voice in his ear. She moaned his name against his shoulder, swore quietly, became incoherent as she neared climax.
And then she was gone.
Reed jolted awake, his eyes wide in the darkness, confused and disoriented. Reality asserted itself in stages, in the smell of woodsmoke and dry stone, the slow drip of water into a clay basin, the glimmer of moonlight through the cave entrance. At some point, he'd kicked off the roughly woven blanket, but despite the night's chill, he felt overheated, feverish. His breathing was too loud, too harsh in the oppressive quiet, and it felt like his whole body was throbbing; the dream had left him intensely, achingly hard.
He pressed his palm against the rigid flesh, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to lose himself back in the dream. When that failed, he thought of Sue. Peeling her slowly out of her uniform. Wrapping himself around her. Gazing up at her as she rode him, her palms against his chest, her skin beaded with sweat, her core molten around his cock as she drove herself to orgasm in increasingly frantic thrusts.
He thought of the time she confessed that she'd like to watch him bring himself off. She'd even gone invisible, but he could still sense the intensity of her eyes. It wasn't long before he felt the brush of erect nipples against his arm, and then the cool touch of her hand covering his. "Don't stop," she'd said breathlessly, "I'm just along for the ride." He couldn't see the impish smile, but he'd known it was there, had seen it thousands of times and could remember every instance, especially when it was accompanied, as it was then, by a husky arousal in her voice.
Afterward, she'd put on a show of her own, leaning back against the headboard and spreading her knees, biting her lip as she rubbed her clit, slow and fast and slow again, her eyes slipping closed as pleasure mounted. Unable to keep his hands off her, he'd stroked her legs, then curled around her, nuzzling at her throat, her breasts, fondling each nipple into a hard peak, and then taking her mouth in a deep kiss as she came.
He'd held her as she recovered from her orgasm, planting soft kisses on her throat as her breath slowed. They'd made love again later that night, slow and savoring, her legs locked around him. No powers, just themselves in the dark, flesh to flesh and skin to skin, their heartbeats joined the way they'd always been, the way he'd hoped they'd always be.
Reed came with a groan, hot warmth spattering on his hand and stomach. He laid there for a moment afterward, breathing hard, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, then sat up and cleaned himself off.
The moon had set, and he knew it would soon be dawn. He took a mental inventory of his current supplies, put together a checklist of tasks that needed to be done to maintain his existence in this wilderness at the back end of time, and immediately felt weary beyond all possible endurance.
Exhausted in every molecule of his being, Reed Richards laid back down and pulled the blanket over himself. If he was fortunate, he would manage another hour or so of sleep, enough to give himself the mental fortitude to face another day in exile.
And if he was truly fortunate, he wouldn't dream.