Work Text:
One would not expect us to get along. I was a villain and Stephen was a hero.
But the world, especially in regards to magic, is not so black and white.
"There are universes," he told me, "Where it is I who am evil and you who are good. And whenever you're a hero, Victor, you put the rest of us to shame."
"Naturally," I responded. "Mother told me I could do anything I put my mind to."
We did a lot together, the two of us. Sometimes we were content just to sit in each other's company, reading separate books or meditating knee to knee.
There was an odd lack of tension between us. I wouldn’t call us friends (Doom does not make friends), but we interacted far too often to simply be “acquaintances.”
“There’s a universe where you’re a God,” Stephen continued, “and one where you are the devil. Worlds you would create from the ground up as well as destroy single handedly.”
“Are you flirting with me?” I asked, abruptly. It was joke. Was meant to be, anyways, a joke, but the longer the question hung in the air the more I sensed he wasn’t treating it as such.
And, the more I realized I wanted a genuine answer.
“I was only musing,” he said, dismissively.
“Musing? About me? Why?”
He analyzed my face, which was, of course, pointless with my mask covering my expression, and then cautiously proceeded with, “Well, naturally, because you’re my competition.”
I squinted. “Your competition? I have never been close to taking your title as Sorcerer Supreme, try as I might.”
“That is because of how much time I spend looking into the universes where you have.”
“You’ve seen every moment of my every life then, have you?”
“No, of course not. That would be near impossible. I've only looked for the important ones," he said, shrugging.
"Do you not think every moment of someone's life holds the same importance?"
And then we were making out, right there, in the middle of my private east wing library because that was the natural progression of the conversation.
Of course, that was only possible after he requested I remove my mask. Even though Strange had seen my face before, there was a nagging at the back of my head that believed my grotesque features would ruin the mood.
In an effort to distract myself, I started analyzing his face in a different light than I'd ever before.
He started chuckling. "Have I upset you?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm struggling to find imperfections on your face to compare myself to. Though, I can see your pores and your nose is a little crooked," I explained. "Was my expression that obvious?"
"You're much easier to read without the mask. Your face gives a lot away. I like it."
He likes its expressiveness, I reminded myself to avoid getting my hopes up. He's not saying he likes your face.
Still, I felt my cheeks go a bit fuzzy at his apparent compliment.
He chuckled some more. "I've embarrassed you, have I? Who knew Victor Von Doom was secretly an open book."
"It's one of the many reasons I keep the mask on."
He went back to kissing me and after only a moment I felt something tug the two of us closer. The cloak of levitation had wrapped itself behind me and pulled our waists flush together.
Strange winced apologetically. "Sorry, it's a rather impatient thing."
"That's quite alright. I'm rather impatient too."
I broke out of the cloak for a moment to use a bit of magic to pull a nearby sofa across the rug towards us. It probably would have been much easier (and less damaging to the floor) if we just took a few steps, but why bother?
I pulled him down with me onto the couch and the cloak, pleased with this, removed itself from Strange's shoulders and layed over the armrest.
"Am, I right then," Stephen asked, "to assume this means you want to continue?"
"Yes. Obviously."
I pulled him down to connect our lips again and my hands started wandering. His did too, down my chest, to my thighs and then…
"Be a bit rough with me," I requested.
He nodded, slowly. "If you insist."
I raised an eyebrow at his hesitation. "Don't you want to hurt me, Strange?"
"Not in reality. But here I will do what you wish." He hesitated before adding, "Do you...want to hurt me?"
"No," I said simply. "Because I'm worried I'd make it a habit."
His lips returned to mine and then started to trail down my jaw and then further. His teeth sunk into my neck, rough and blunt, and he didn't let up for a solid five seconds.
Then, he repeated the process, running his teeth along my collarbone as well while he started palming my erection through my clothing. My breathing was shaky as he marked me, clearly indulging himself.
I certainly didn't mind the forming bruises, after all I could heal them away with a gesture if I wanted to. And, after all, I wasn't sure I wanted to.
He backed off me and used a spell to remove much of my clothing.
"Turn around," he requested, gently.
I stood and turned so that my back was facing him, leaning over the couch with my ass pointed in his direction.
He ran his hands up my back and then roughly dragged his nails all the way down. I grunted and felt my cock twitch.
"Alright?" he asked.
"Again," I ordered.
Stephen obeyed, digging his nails into my skin and leaving streaks down my back. His hands shook as they traveled, dipping deeper in some places and letting up in others.
"You like the way it hurts," he commented.
"Oh, really? I thought I asked because I knew I wouldn't enjoy it." I rolled my eyes. "Yes. I like the way it hurts. You can hit me, if you want."
I heard his breath catch in his throat and then felt a slap across my bottom.
My eyes widened in surprise. "How DARE-"
He hit me again and I fell forward, a less than flattering noise leaving my throat.
"I thought this was what you wanted," he said. I turned to glare at him. His mouth was straight but there was a smile in his eyes.
"That's not quite what I had in mind, no," I muttered.
"You'd rather I didn't, then?"
I looked away from him, not wanting my face to give away more of my secrets. "...yes, I'd rather you didn't," I lied.
He hummed in acknowledgement and then pushed his hips against my ass. "I suppose I should continue," he said.
He bent over, draping himself across my back, and wrapped his hand around the base of my cock, getting to work with a rapid back and forth motion that left me weak in the knees.
His other hand wrapped around my neck and squeezed ever so slightly, his nails digging into my flesh. He bit my shoulder and it felt different, sharper, as though he had altered his teeth in some way just to draw a bit of my blood.
"Stephen," I cried. "Gods, yes…" My eyes rolled back and I came with a low hum.
Strange slowly spun to sit down himself and then sat me on his lap, smirking at me. His teeth were, in fact, pointed with a magic energy.
"You look quite pleased with yourself," I commented.
He hummed. "I am. I've spanked Dr. Doom."
"If you tell anyone-"
"Relax, I won't. Wouldn't want anyone else stealing my idea."