Stop
You woke with a start, gasping as you pushed away from the hulking figure next to you and scrambled to the other side of the bed. There was a low thud as the wall met your back. You were trapped. In the dark, you could see him lurch forward to catch you. Run.
“Don’t,” you huffed. You went for a palm heel strike, thrusting the wrist-end of your right hand out towards where you imagined his face was. A soft weight blocked you, locking your hand against wall. You snarled as you felt a hand on either side of your waist. The man was shushing you.
“Don’t,” you said again. Unable to free your dominant hand, you tried to punch with your left, and immediately felt the slap of the wall against the back of your hand and that soft weight again, pushing against your other palm. His hands tightened on the curve of your waist as he tried to quiet you again. Fight. You spasmed violently, trying to shake his grip.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” you spat, kicking full-force with your left leg. It landed on what felt like his stomach, doughy and malleable. Temples thudding. The breath whooshed from his lungs as he doubled over.
“Stay away from me,” you shouted hoarsely. A snapping sound before something velvety—a blanket, maybe—locked your legs in place with a smart, stable grip. His hand reached towards the door and the lights came on. You started to yell but were cut off by a wad of fabric stuffing itself into your mouth. It smelled like Stephen. You bit down on it, grinding your teeth, and felt whatever was strapping your limbs to the wall constrict its hold.
“If you bite…any harder…it might bleed…” Stephen choked out. He was hunched over on the bed, one arm wrapped around his torso. You were out of breath, still involuntarily struggling against Stephen’s cloak. The muscles in your jaw were starting to ache from the effort.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said, face scrunched in pain as he recovered from your kick. “It wasn’t real… You’re safe.”
You spat out the collar of his cloak which shook itself out like a wet dog as it retreated behind your head. It didn’t release you from the wall, however, as it apparently still thought you were a threat to its master.
“I’m sorry,” you breathed.
Stephen sat on his calves with a lopsided smile, a hand on either of his knees.
“I forgive you,” he said. “The cloak, however, might need more convincing.” He gestured behind you to his partner. It was holding you firm, with both arms locked above your head and legs spread. Your doctor did nothing to persuade the cloak into letting you go. You swallowed, watching in silence as his eyes betrayed his better intentions. His dusky blue gaze scanned down your frame until it reached the apex of your thighs. His hand twitched as if stopping itself from reaching out. His breath was meticulous and calculated.
“Can I—”
“What did you dream,” he asked blankly, not looking at your face. Your nostrils flared as you watched his fingers curl into fists. He was in deep thought, clearly trying to distract himself.
“Um, I dreamt s-someone came to my apartment and attacked me,” you said, voice small.
“Poor thing,” he gritted out. He breathed in deeply and licked his lips. “You’re safe now.” His hands were trembling. A cold, familiar thrill shot down your spine. You felt like you were being hunted, splayed all out like a buffet.
“Stephen?”
He jumped, eyes finally meeting yours. His left brow raised, waiting for your question.
“Is that silencing spell still around the room?”
He nodded. There was a long pause.
“No one can get in either,” he said. On his hands and knees, he moved just an inch towards you, eyes zeroed in below your tummy. “Why? Something wrong, little one?” His focus shifted to your wrists, still bound by his cloak. You squirmed but the sentient fabric didn’t give you a centimeter.
“J-just worried. Didn’t want anyone to hear me screaming,” you said. Stephen’s watch snapped to your face, a dark energy behind his eyes. “W-when I woke up, I mean.” You gulped. A shudder overcame Doctor Strange, the tendons in his neck flaring as he bit back a snarl.
“I completely understand,” he said, nodding sagely as his eyes slipped shut. His head hung low as his fists unclenched, nails digging into his kneecaps. He’d come to a decision. “Cover her eyes.”
He gestured to the cloak and your vision was shrouded in darkness as the inexplicably-dry, plush wool collar tightened itself across your brow. A whimper trapped itself in your throat.
“You sound so pretty when you’re nervous,” he murmured. The back of his hand, shaking, stroked the inside of your right thigh. You jerked in surprise, an unsettling cocktail of relief and joy filling your chest as you realized no amount of struggling could free you from your binds. Only Stephen Strange had that power, and he’d only enact it if you used the magic word he’d gifted you. “I’m getting carried away, aren’t I?” His hand fell away from you, leaving you alone in the dark. You could hear his bluff, practically taste his smirk, but gave in anyways.
“Stay,” you muttered. It was the only sound you could send tumbling past your lips.
“Hmm…why?”
“B-because…Because you want me.”
“Ah, so it’s my fault, is it?” The low rumble of his voice made you pulse. You nodded, knowing he was watching you with the ferocity a starved wolf watches a doe with. He chuckled quietly. “And for you?” His nose skimmed your neck, a soft exhale fanning over your throat. You tilted for him, offering access, but he backed away.
“I w-want you too, sir. I haven’t stopped missing you.”
“Sir? Oh, sweets, what happened to ‘doctor’? Aren’t you my Little Patient anymore?” His knuckle grazed the top of your thigh and your head rolled back, hips bucking as you gasped, overwhelmed with the heat that swarmed your senses. He hadn’t kissed you, barely even touched you, and you were melting. It was as if the sexual energy that could keep him going for hours was some contagion, leeching into your bones just by being near him for long enough. You nodded desperately, craning your neck forward and pursing your lips, asking him for more.
“Is this what you want?” His mouth was millimeters from yours. His thumb dragged against your lower lip. Just as quickly as he’d leaned in, he retreated again. “You want me to touch you? Take away all that pain and fear?”
“Please,” you whined. “Make it go away, Doctor.” You could practically hear his mirth as his hands curled around your hips. The room was painfully silent as you realized just how connected you and the doctor were. Without your sight, you could sense his presence in the room, anticipate where he would go next. You tuned in to the lilt of his breath, the vibrating pulse under his skin, and felt him closing in on you.
Your hands clenched into fists as his lips finally met yours in a tantalizingly delicate kiss. He was holding back, the rotten tease. As he tried to pull back, you bit his lip, forcing him to stay close. Stephen grunted and you sighed, joyfully, as that little bit of convincing was enough to send his fingers dipping under the waistline of your bottoms.
“Thought we had an agreement about the pants,” he growled against your mouth, ripping the pajama shorts away without hesitation.
“We had an agreement about jeans, Stephen!”
“Whoops,” he said flatly before tearing the front of your shirt open, the thick buttons of your satin top skittering across the floor.
“I liked that set,” you pouted. “Damn you, wizard.”
“A worthy sacrifice for this…divine view,” Stephen hummed as he palmed one of your breasts. He shivered as he leaned close to you. “God, I’ve fucking missed this body.” He latched to your neck, nipping the delicate skin, and you rolled your body up to be flush with his. Doctor Strange’s arms wound around you, the scrape of his robes against your skin making your pussy gush. His body was like a sturdy, safe temple for you to source your pleasure through. His nails dug into your back as he tried to pull you closer than close. Skin-to-skin wasn’t enough; Stephen wanted himself to be engrained into the very fibers of your being. You moaned, wishing you had the use of your hands to draw him impossibly closer, yet loving the freedom that came with being strapped into place for him to use as he pleased.
His lips hummed over your body as Stephen kissed, licked, and sucked his way down to your tits, murmuring little affirmations against your flushed skin as he moved. You felt swollen, arching out as far as the cloak would allow to ensure his mouth stayed on you. You found yourself gripping onto some extra fabric of the cloak for support and felt it press tighter over your eyes. Perhaps it was deciding to take pity on you.
Stephen slid one hand down your tummy as his smooth tongue laved over your aching nipple, forcing a cry from your throat. The sheer heat of it turned your insides to lava, a jolt of pleasure surging into your cunt. As he licked, coaxing the sensitive bud into a tight knot, his fingers finally found your slit. He stroked lightly as you bucked against his hand, wanting more, more, more.
“I want to see you,” you gasped, rutting against his touch as his fingers finally dipped in enough to soothe the swollen gem between your lips. He hummed in thought, sucking mindlessly on your breast as if it held the key to his decision.
“You heard the lady,” he finally said, voice muffled by your tit, and the cloak lifted from your eyes, allowing you to stare down at the glorious sight that was your doctor palming himself in time with the roll of your hips against his other hand, his teeth bared over the taut, rosy peaks of your chest. The fabric brushed your cheek as the collar slid along your jaw, giving you goosebumps. It cupped your chin as you watched Stephen run the edges of his teeth across your nipples, eliciting a sweet hiss from you as your hands mindlessly struggled against their binds.
“Easy, now,” Strange cooed, kissing up your neck again as his hand pulled away from your pussy. You groaned impatiently, but when his lips met your jawline, you saw he was drawing his hand up between your faces. His two fingers glistened, coated in your arousal, and you watched in awe as his tongue lolled out to clean the backs of his fingers off. With his proximity and that penetrating eye contact, you knew what he wanted without needing him to ask. Your eyes slipped shut as you licked the pads of his fingers. The cloak smoothed over your throat before tucking behind your head again.
The clean, sweet, tang of your essence was made even more delicious when your tongue met Stephen’s through his spread fingers. Helping him clean your mess off, making out through the barrier of his massive hand, sent a forbidden shiver through your frame, knowing that very action was making you ooze more of that sticky delicacy you were tasting. Stephen pushed his two fingers into your mouth and allowed you to suck the last of yourself from him.
“Addicting,” he sighed wantonly, settling his lips against your cheek before kissing, kissing, kissing, and kissing, your head bobbing from the force. He nipped your earlobe when his fingers snapped again, and suddenly the warmth of his clothing was replaced by the warmth of bare skin. Your thighs were trembling and you thanked your lucky stars that his cloak’s hold was steadfast around your limbs.
“Let me in, Little Patient,” he crooned, nuzzling his nose under your chin, forcing your head up before planting a kiss over the bob in your throat. You were already spread for him, already dripping, but he wanted to hear you say it. Needed to know your mind wanted him as much as your body did. The silken heat of his cock brushed against the inside of your right thigh and you pulsed around nothing, as if your cunt was trying to draw him in with sheer magnetism.
“Yes,” you rasped. You angled your hips towards him as best you could, the weight of your body stressing the binds. “Take me, Doctor.” The veins in his neck flared as he clawed at his mouth. Stephen Strange looked utterly wild, hair askew and eyes blown wide, a twitch away from losing his composure.
“Hold her back,” he snapped at the loyal cape, and in an instant it pulled you flush against the wall. There was a low thunk as the back of your head made contact. You sucked in a breath. “Her eyes, God damnit, her eyes!” And again, you were met with instant darkness, only accompanied by the cape that was now tangled around nearly every part of your body, doing all it could to obey its master. The room was silent, save the heaving breaths of your beloved doctor who was trying desperately to fight the urge to fuck you until you broke.
The void was obsidian, heavy, and Stephen wasn’t touching you, as if he knew the suspense was worth more than the action. You could feel his weight shifting on the bed, prowling, as he decided just what exactly he’d be doing to you. You made a mental map as he leaned to the right, closing in, and then centered as he leaned back.
He froze. The tempered lilt of his breath was gone. The room was more quiet than the sound of wax melting and you realized he was now holding his breath. He’d read your mind, knew you were tracking him. Silence was his way to up the ante, to hide from you on another level. Something in your chest locked up like a rusted bolt. Adrenaline.
“Five,” you peeped.
“Tell me, lovely.”
“I’m scared.”
“Hm?”
“The silence is intense,” you said, your own voice sounding far away.
“I’m sorry, sweetness,” he purred. One of his hands enveloped your knee as he murmured against your forehead. “How’s this?”
“Better, thank you.”
“Not a big fan of the sensory deprivation, I take it,” he chuckled. One hand drifted back down to your slit and as soon as he touched, you knew exactly how wet he’d made you. Stephen groaned to himself as he gathered the mess he made before slicking it over his dick. Through the thick gloss of your arousal, you almost couldn’t feel his fingers until they spread your lips apart. He fit the head of his cock against your tense, quivering hole. Your hips bucked, knocking away from him, and he laughed lightly as he repositioned himself. “Maybe we can try the opposite of sensory deprivation, then?”
“Please,” you whined, trying to straighten your back, lean into him, anything to get him inside, anything to soothe that ache that clouded your awareness.
“You want it?” He pushed just the head in, just enough that you could feel that weighty, breath-catching stretch, and held it there. He knew you couldn’t wiggle down to force him any deeper. There was no more room to move. Your pussy fluttered pathetically on its own volition, asking him for more as politely as it knew how to.
“God, Stephen, please, please, how long will you make me beg for?!”
He slammed into you.
A guttural scream clawed through your chest when he reached the hilt. The fullness of him, that blissful pressure as he split you open on himself, was the epitome of pleasure. Searing. Mind-melting. He ground his pelvis against yours, using the soft thatch of hair above his cock to work your clit into submission. You were quickly running out of breath and sanity.
Eyes covered, he still enveloped you in a way that made you feel like you could see him, resting his forehead against yours, gripping your body frantically in the few places his cloak wasn’t touching, like he needed to know you were still in one piece. His hands locked around your hips, curling until his nails nearly broke the skin, and then clambered up to your tits, the back of your neck, and finally your shoulder blade before yanking your thighs free from the cloak to wrap your legs around his waist.
You let out a shaky whimper as you felt Doctor Strange lose himself within you. His cock sailed in and out of you harshly, desperately, and some quiet voice inside knew he was making up for lost time. He’d missed you. Could another woman take the intensity of his needs? You supposed not.
“That’s it,” he choked out. “Love it when you whine. When you f-fucking squirm for me.” One of the hands that was supporting your tush gave your right ass cheek a harsh smack that seemed to echo through your nerves like a forest fire.
You moaned like his cock was punching the breath out of you.
“Fuuuck, Peach. Tight little pussy. So fucking warm for me.”
You squeezed your legs around him, keeping him deep as you let the sounds of your ecstasy come forth effortlessly.
“I can still taste you,” Doctor Strange groaned, kissing you again. He was right. The perfume of your fluttering cunt lingered on his goatee, making you clench around him as you tasted yourself yet again.
“Give her to me,” he finally growled. The cloak dropped you into Stephen’s strong arms as he continued pumping into you at a brutal pace, the blood rushing back into your hands with a cooling sensation when you gripped his shoulders. You smelled the faint remnants of a sage cologne on his neck when he tucked you tight against his body, bouncing you in his lap. There was no deeper, no harder, no sweeter he could rock himself into you, yet still you wanted more of him. Something unknowable, unnamable, that your primal instincts thirsted for. A growl rolled through your chest as Stephen’s cock pummeled your g-spot.
He laid you back so your head and upper back hung over the edge of the bed. Your arms shot out as Stephen settled you into your back-bend, the heels of your hands pressing against the floor.
There was a thudding in your ears that pulsed in time with the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of your bed against the wall. Your low back and butt were supported on the mattress, heels digging into Doctor Strange’s back. Stephen snapped his fingers and the cloak slid behind your head to keep you from straining your neck. Your eyes slipped shut as the blood rushed into your temples. At this angle, with your arms trembling and lungs burning as you practically hyperventilated, Stephen could grind against your mound perfectly, sending bursts of white light like shooting stars into your clit.
You were stunned by the way he could drill your g-spot with that villainous cruelty yet massage your clit with innocent tenderness at once. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body gradually tensing as the musical waves of his attention built up a knot in your belly.
“S-Stephen…fuck! Fuck, I love how you fuck me,” you babbled. He chuckled lowly at you.
“Like getting fucked upside down, huh?” he panted, giving you a lopsided smile when your blurry gaze found his mesmerizing cerulean eyes.
“Fuuuuck yes,” you groaned, sounding drunk. “Fuck. M-more, more please, God, I just want your fucking cock.”
“You have it,” he murmured, laughing warmly before hunching over to nip at your ribs. You squealed and jerked as the scruff of his goatee tickled your stomach. Stephen hummed dramatically in thought, sliding his hands along your stomach. “That reminds me of a fun game we can play.” His hips slowed. You stirred, wanting to feel him massage the lucidity out of you.
“A game?” You perked up like a pet waiting on a treat from its master. Doctor Strange raised a brow and spoke slowly, unsure of how you’d react to his proposal.
“Yes, baby…How would you feel about fighting me? Get some of that tension out? Your aura is roiling.”
He could sense your confusion. The cloak helped him guide you out of your backbend so you could lay properly on the bed, though your head was now at the footboard.
Stephen plunged into you, the heat of his cock melting you from the inside. That torturous grind of his pelvis against your clit still working you up, edging you to keep your muscles fiery and taut. You shuddered, pressing a kiss against his chest.
“Try to get away,” he murmured.
“Huh?”
“Fight me while I fuck you. Try to get away from me.”
“What if I say no?”
“You can tell me ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or call me any wretched name under the sun, but I’m not going to let you go unless you use your numbers. Got it?” His eyes were light with mischief. That tender hand stroking your jaw made you feel so soft and open despite the challenge he was presenting you with. You raised a tentative eyebrow at him and tried not to look so flustered with his dick still massaging a nerve that made your vision go fuzzy.
“Is that a yes?” He skimmed his nose along your cheek. Not trying to force you, but to remind you just how safe you were. Stephen wanted to play with you, push you, rewire all the hate and hurt that was knotted up in your brain from the events of the last few days and turn it into pleasure. All it took was one little syllable, ten, and you knew he’d pull you out of the storm. A new woman.
“Yeah…” you said. “Yeah okay. We can try that.” You couldn’t help the curious smirk on your face, your expression warped from trying to anticipate the unknown. Stephen kissed your chin, your cheek, and finally your lips before quickening his hips and raising a thick brow at you.
“You know what to do,” he whispered. You did. It took your orgasm-deprived brain a moment of extra convincing. You didn’t want to be away from him, you wanted him to ride you until your skin was raw, but it was part of the game.
You jerked your shoulders and he tensed around you, instantly locking one hand over the top of your head and the other behind your back, wrapping it around the opposite shoulder. The squabble forced his cock in deeper, punching into your g-spot a little harder than normal, and it forced a squeal out of you that you’d never heard before. The way he had you pinned left your arms essentially useless and with your face tucked into his neck, you couldn’t headbutt him, but now you understood the game. It was sex therapy. The harder you fought, literally pushing out all the negativity you’d been feeling, the harder he’d fuck you and the better he’d make you feel.
“That’s it,” he grunted. “C’mon, pretty Peach, take this cock. Fight me.”
“Ugh, fuck off.” You jerked your hips, trying to roll him off of you, and it almost worked until he slammed his knee against your inner thigh, spreading you even wider on the bed. Doctor Strange hit a new angle inside you then, kneading the rightmost walls of your pussy, and another ragged groan erupted from your throat. He let your arms and head free, showing you a little mercy
“Get the fuck off me!” The sweat on your thigh allowed you to yank it from his pin and you immediately started scrambling away from him. He looked genuinely surprised as his cock slipped out of you, watching you retreat for just a moment before his brain caught up, and he started chasing you.
You slapped him across the face with all your might. Stephen’s breath caught as he froze in place, trying to process how hard you’d just hit him. It came so naturally, you didn’t think to stop yourself, your heartbeat stopping for a full two seconds before realizing that shit just got real. There was a puffy, cherry colored hand-shaped welt on his cheek.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Stephen. Are you oka—”
“GET HER.” His growl was so coarse and dark that you didn’t recognize him for a moment. When that moment passed, the room spun around you as the cloak wrapped around your throat and slammed you back down onto the bed. The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs with a pathetic huff. You were dizzy. Stephen hovered over you, looking equally angry and impressed. You hoped the anger was part of the game. His right hand pressed against your chest, pinning you down as he fit his cock back into you. Had your legs automatically opened for him? The intensity of the situation had your body tense and tight, so your cunt bore down on him harder than normal, making him feel even bigger.
He watched your mouth, making sure he wouldn’t miss you mouthing a number, but you were still enjoying the game.
“I said…Get OFF of me,” you thrashed ferociously under his hand. Your voice was getting raspy from the effort. “Get out! Get OUT OF ME! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! FUCK YOU! Fuck you, I don’t want this! I don’t fucking want you!” You were fighting him with every ounce of strength now, jerking your torso, kicking at nothing, fists battering the mattress, and even though you both knew you were lying, it felt so good to scream, to spout hatred on his deaf ears. When you were done, he placed his left hand over your mouth and you bit the side of his palm so hard you nearly broke skin.
His right hand pushed against your chest even harder, his dick pushed just a little deeper, insistent against your cervix. That warm, soft patch of curls over his pubic bone was teasing fire into your clit with every stroke in and out. Your eyes rolled back, a shudder overcoming you. You punched him in the chest one, two, three times before he laid on top of you, wrapping his arms so tight around your torso that it was getting hard to breathe.
“STOP,” you demanded.
He could feel your pussy quivering, fluttering, preparing to give out. He ground against your clit insistently and you took to punching him in the back, each impact followed by a resounding, hollow thunk as the force of your fists rolled through his lungs.
“Stephen, DON’T!”
Your orgasm took you so suddenly, you wondered for a moment if you’d missed him casting a spell. You screamed so high, so harsh, that you couldn’t hear yourself after a moment, overcome by unfettered trembling. He praised you in words you couldn’t understand through the bliss but felt as a warm swell in your chest. When you came down, you were still shivering, throat hot and raw. Stephen was petting your face.
“Do you need to cum still?” you rasped.
“I think we’ve had enough, precious one. Maybe we can do something slow and soft in the morning, hm?”
He pulled you against his side, holding you and stroking your back as the cloak draped itself on top of you, feeling like the heaviest, most plush blanket you’d ever had.
“Did I do okay? Was that alright?”
“Shh, try not to use your voice… You were fantastic. So very good. Beyond words, honey. Are you feeling okay? Squeeze my finger, one for yes, two for no.”
You squeezed his pointer once and swallowed, wincing at the way your ragged throat protested.
“Hmm. Such a good girl. Get some rest, I’ll get you taken care of.”
His hand came over your eyes and before you could tell him goodnight or thank you or okay or I love you, your breath hitched and muscles oozed into submission as you were ladled into sleep.