You're Lovely.

He’s like a lost dog. That’s all you can think as the infamous ‘Doc Ock’ enters the bar you’ve been in for half an hour. He’s out of place and cocky despite it, and there’s nothing you’d love more than to put him in his place. That being said, the door may be wide open for you to do so as he doesn’t appear to have any malicious intent. You get up, leaving your drink unsupervised as you saunter towards him to flirt. 

“You’re scaring the shit out of everyone here.” You mutter, not bothering to introduce yourself. If he wants your name, he can ask for it. 

“You’re stupid.” He replies, and your drink is suddenly right by your lips, held by an actuator. One of the mechanical arms reaches around your waist, then wraps around your knee below the skirt of your dress. You look up at the man with sass in your eyes. 

“You’re impolite.” You say. “Are you going to hand that to me, or had you planned on drugging it first?” 

He leans down, using the tentacle around your waist to pull you closer until he’s right by your ear. 

“Actually, I planned to keep you perfectly conscious and sober so that you can scream for me.” He says in a low voice. You feel your clit pulse. 

“Oh, yeah?” You return, reaching your arms up to his shoulders and sliding your hands down his chest, stopping momentarily over where his nipples would be under his shirt. You add, “Then I suggest you live up to it before I get bored.” 

He practically drags you out of the bar, attempts to push you into an alleyway and while you grant him a rough kiss, you hiss something about patience being a virtue. Your apartment is only just down the street, you tell him, and he pulls you up so that your legs are locked around your hips. The mechanical tentacles do the walking as one of his arms supports your back, his other hand holds your chin in place as he studies your eyes, your lips. 

He pulls the two of you right up to your balcony, and you fumble for your keys in your purse and successfully unlock the door, just barely flicking on the light before he drives you back into your bedroom. One mechanical arm pins your wrists together above your head, then presses them against the bed. 

“You didn’t even introduce yourself.” Otto remarks, sitting beside you and tugging the top of your dress down to expose your breasts. “Why don’t you? Seems I have a bit of time to get to know you, drop a fun fact or two.” 

“Y/N.” You say. His hand brushes over a nipple, then pinches it. You draw in a sharp breath. 

“Focus.” He hums, smoothly dragging his finger around your nipple and then scrunching his whole hand over the breast. 

“I’m an English major. Senior in college.” You stammer out, squirming for more. Your legs pressed together offer a bit of pressure on your clit, which is far from enough stimulation, but you’ll take any sort of relief. 

“Got a favorite book?” He asks, leaning his head down. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you again, which you’d like- his lips are slightly chapped and he tastes like cigar smoke. You aren’t necessarily wrong- he does kiss you, on the collarbone. You shiver. He kisses between your breasts, he kisses your left nipple, then your right. 

“Frankenstein.” You pant, hips grinding at nothing. “Mary Shelley.” 

He gives your left nipple a gentle bite, which elicits a yelp from you. He responds with a low chuckle that borders on a growl as he gives the same nip to the other breast. 

“Frankenstein, hm?” He says, sitting back up and tracing your jawline. Two more of his actuators tug at the sides of your dress, pulling both it and your shoes all the way off. 

“Mhmm. You know, Mary Shelley wrote it for a horror story competition.” You continue, though your voice is on the verge of whining now. So much for putting this man in his place. 

“Oh, yes, I seem to recall hearing about that somewhere.” He says, running a finger down your now bare stomach and tugging at the waistband of your thong. 

“Holy shit.” You mutter, your eyes fluttering closed. “God.” 

“God has bigger problems, dearest.” He says tenderly, in opposition to the way he jerks playfully at your waistband. It rubs at your clit in the slightest, stupidest way, providing no pleasure but definitely making you want more. 

“I can pray to men,” You huff, your hands twisting up and grabbing at the metal links of the arm that’s been holding your wrists. 

“Very well, then, on your knees.” He says, releasing your arms and pulling you off the bed onto the floor. His belt buckle is undone as you crawl towards him, eagerly, then you take over the act of undoing his button and zipper. You reach your hands up under his shirt and squeeze at anything you can get your hands on before running them back down his stomach and catching your fingers on his boxers. You look up at him playfully while you pull them down, just enough for his dick to spring up in your face. 

You push your mouth over his cock until you can’t anymore, then you open up your throat and take it further. As you pull back, you feel his hand grab a fistful of hair and push your face forward again. Your eyes close as you choke, literally, on his dick, and despite the discomfort you do your best to wriggle your tongue. Finally, he stops pressing at the back of your head and you pull back, leaving only the head of his dick in your mouth to tongue and teeth at. It makes him grunt, and that gives you a twinge of pride. 

You pull your mouth away from his dick completely, looking up at him with a pleading smile. 

“What? What’s that face, do you want something?” He asks teasingly. Again, actuators make an appearance- this time under your arms to lift you up back onto the bed. Facing upwards with your hips at the edge of the bed, he crawls over you and does that thing again, where he searches your eyes. 

“This is good?” He asks. 

“If this wasn’t good, I would have pepper sprayed your ass by now.” You reply. “Please, fuck me.” 

He buries his face in your neck, kissing and biting and sucking as he rubs little circles over your clit. It pulls a combination of moans and giggles from you, makes you absolutely silly. He laughs with you for a moment, pulling his lips off the crook of your neck and taking them back up to your mouth. 

And, finally, his cock presses into you. You moan into his lips, hips grinding and legs folding around his waist as he pushes all the way inside you. Already, you can feel your stomach twinge with an orgasm and he feels you tighten around him. He bucks his hips, just a bit, and you arch your back and you moan. 

“You’re sensitive.” He laughs, drawing his words out as though he’s absolutely drunk on your body. He pulls out, laps at your nipples and bites them again which makes you gasp on a whole new level of pleasure. Before you even realize it, he flips you onto your stomach and pushes your face into your bed, your ass held up to his waist by one actuator while another one pulls your arms behind your back and keeps them there. 

He’s back inside you from this new angle and his thrusts are painstakingly, achefully slow. What he lacks in speed, though, he makes up for in depth. He draws this out for some time, occasionally teasing with a quick thrust of his hips that makes you choke and whimper. He never adds speed, but he does add a finger to your clit and that combination is enough to elicit a second orgasm. 

“Catch your breath.” He says. 

“More.” You beg, your voice ragged. “More, please.” 

He raises an eyebrow, smirk donning his face as he traces your spine. 

“You’re lovely when you whine.” He replies, kissing your tailbone. “Tell me what you like.” 

“I like,” You pant, “I like to be slapped. Choked. I like to be fucked, god, please fuck me,” 

“Slapped and choked.” He repeats, the words ruminating in his mouth. He rolls you again, onto your back and leans over you. He cups your face and kisses you again, deep and precise. It’s charming, so much so that you hardly notice the way a hand has made its way around your neck. He pulls away and you gasp as you realize, only to be met with the tightening of his fingers. 

He slides his shaft back into your pussy and begins to fuck you again, this time rough and sloppy. He spits on you, with his free hand he slaps at your stomach and breasts and he does not for a moment let go of your neck. 

“Oh my god.” You sob after several minutes as your stomach tightens with your, what, third? Fourth orgasm? You can’t remember. “Oh my fucking god.” 

“One more.” He whispers. “You have one more, I know you do.” 

“Oh, fuck.” You laugh. “Please.” 

“Be quiet this time, and I’ll get on my knees for you.” 

Absolutely dizzy with pleasure, you’re not sure what that means, but you’re sure it sounds good. You put your hand over your mouth as he rocks his hips back and forth, deep and slow and then hard and fast. He finishes you with three distinct thrusts, the last one making you melt and cum absolutely everywhere. 

He pulls out, making you gasp and wriggle your hips. 

“Oh, don’t worry, my love. You were good.” He says softly, falling to his knees and pushing your thighs apart. Oh. Oh, god. 

His tongue starts at your slit, gently licking up the leftover drippings from four orgasms. Tongue presses into your hole and licks it out, runs up the lips of your pussy and teases at your clit. He licks up above it, puts bite marks on the love handles below your belly button. His tongue runs down again, he gives long and slow and gentle runs over your clit that have you gasping and groaning.

“More- fuck! More, please.” You whimper, hands running into his hair. Two of the actuators run against the side of your body, then pinch and prod at your nipples. Tears build up in your eyes, it’s all just barely not enough for you to cum again. Your legs wrap around Otto’s neck, and finally he relents and places his whole mouth over your pussy. His tongue works quickly in circles over your clit, sucking at it until you finally orgasm. 

He leaves a trail of kisses up your stomach, your neck, then on your cheek. 

“You’re lovely.” He hums in that low, oakey voice. You’re still panting for breath. 

He reclothes himself, though his coat stays off, and finds his way into the bathroom. You hear water start running. No fucking way. No way you scored a man who fucks this good and gives aftercare. And he’s so quiet now that you hardly realize he’s gone to the kitchen and started your kettle, rummaging around in your cabinets for coffee. You realize that you are cold, and that both of the things he’s started preparing sound lovely. 

“Come,” He nudges his head, arms opening for you. You smile softly and yawn, standing up and resting yourself in his grip. He takes you to the bathroom, sets you in the tub, and asks how you take your coffee. 

“Black, with a little sugar.” You reply, and he returns momentarily with a mug of it. 

“Head back.” He mumbles, pushing on your forehead until you’re facing upwards and using a cup he stole from your kitchen to pour water through your hair. He shampoos it, massages deep circles into your scalp. 

“Rinse.” He says, pushing your head back again and then repeating the process with conditioner, though he lets that sit for a moment. He takes a soapy rag and rubs it over your shoulders, neck, cleans off your collarbones and chest. He pushes you forward a bit and washes your back, muttering something about how pretty you are and how lovely you look all marked up. It makes you blush. He leans you back and washes your stomach, gently cleans the inside of your thighs and rubs the washcloth all the way down to your feet. 

You sip on your coffee, which has cooled off to a drinkable temperature now, as he drains the water and pulls a towel from your cabinet. Gingerly, he pulls you from the tub and pats you dry, draping the towel over you like he didn’t just see you at your most immodest. 

“You should get some sleep.” He says, leading you back to your bedroom. 

“Mhmm.” You hum, collapsing onto your bed. He laughs and pulls back the blankets, tucking them over you. 

“Goodnight, Y/N. Goodbye.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” You tease groggily. “I’ll have you back any night of the week.”