#cncish

Stephen resented the fact that from the first whiff of the aroma his cock had sprung to life and refused to die the pleasurable death to resolve the situation. He had gotten so close so may times, but something in his system always resisted. 

He had been grateful no other Masters or students had joined him on the journey, as he almost certainly would have died of embarrassment had anyone seen him in such a state. He had portaled straight into his room at the Sanctum to avoid seeing anyone and immediately stumbled into the shower. His hands had shown improvements over the years in being able to pleasure himself once more, but tonight of all nights they were failing him. At least, he assumed it had to do with his hands.

He had hoped after drying off that the issue might resolve itself, but instead, it only persisted and became stronger. His heart was beating so rapidly it was the only thing he could hear, his chest was heaving and no amount of meditation could calm him, he was so hot he couldn’t bare the idea of putting on clothes— even the silk sheets beneath his back had grown damp in a puddle of clean sweat from his temperature— and not to mention the persistent erection that hadn’t wavered once in nearly five hours now. He was in pain. Only the pain of his hands in the first few days of waking in the hospital compared to this level of excruciation.

And it wasn’t just his physical person either. His mind was torturing him as well. He was thinking unthinkable things, considering unspeakable acts that even in his already tainted and adventurous sexual life were debauched. Even worse, it was you as the lead role in every scene.

Sweet, gentle, shy little thing you were. Stephen couldn’t deny his attraction to you any more than he could deny his arousal at the moment. He’d known you for a year now, learned your fascination with the mystical flora and fauna, and resolutely asked the other Masters to consider giving you free rein of the decaying and ignored greenhouse at the farthest end of Kamar-Taj’s fortress. He spent a good deal of time poking around your business, asking little questions, and slowly opening you up. At some point, he realized with certainty you harbored a crush on him as much as he harbored one for you, but you were too timid and he was afraid acting on his feelings so soon would prove disastrous.

But now? Now in his current state, all he could think about was acting on his feelings. Those very base feelings that he would have never otherwise given a whisper of suggestion to in your presence. The sort of instincts men nowadays try to keep hidden beneath the surface so as to not appear absolute brutes. You, who still blushed when he complimented you on your care of the plants or the way you’d styled your hair. You, who once brushed your hand against his own and entered such a fit of embarrassment he couldn’t get you to look at him for three days straight. You, you were the sole object of his malicious attraction.

He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t think fair, he couldn’t even think decent. And maybe that’s why he found himself up and out of the bed, toweling off his body once more, attempting to slip into clothes that clung to his dampened skin. Maybe that’s why he opened a portal to Kamar-Taj and shut it before the Cloak could fly through— the morality of the fabric would interfere with his plans. It was late at night, or perhaps very early in the morning depending on how one chose to look at it. Either way the Nepalese sky was black as could be, tiny speckles of silver and a large full moon shedding light on the earth below.

Stephen was hardly in control of his own body as he moved through the night, soundless and determined to find the object of his desires. And he knew all at once he’d found you when he looked over the little balcony he stood on to find the dim lights of the greenhouse still on at this hour. Without a single idea what he was about to do or any consideration of the consequences he set toward the stairs and descended them hurriedly. His erection was still straining, tucked into the waistband of a pair of sweats he had tied far too tight simply to keep his member in place. That, combined with the larger sweatshirt he wore, appropriately disguised any pretense he had for seeking you out.

And there was no denying what his intentions were.

You hummed softly to yourself, wiping over the leaves of your newest plant carefully. You had procured it from a witch who had claimed it was being ravaged by mites of some sort. You agreed to take the plant and nurse it back to health if she promised to give you one-fourth of the fruit it produced once blossomed. The fruit was berry-like, something that could be confused with a blueberry save for its greenish hue. The purpose of the plant was immunity to invasion of the mind for an indiscriminate period of time, which you had only found through research, but upon realizing knew would be an invaluable asset to your sorcerer family one of these days. 

It was late and you should have been asleep, but as so many nights before you had failed to find any rest. Insomnia had taken over your nights recently, rendering you incapable of fading odd into any sort of peaceful sleep. Instead, you tossed and turned for hours, the strangest sense of something missing weighing on your mind. Your body was constantly anxious, searching, almost hungry, but for what you didn’t know!  

So you turned to the one thing that brought you comfort more than anything: your plants. There was something about caring for a living thing otherwise destined to become extinct or struggle to flourish that brought you so much joy. You had always been a natural caretaker and it was the one and only thing you ever let yourself feel overly prideful about. You knew without a doubt you had found what you were born to do when it came to botanicals.

You gently carried the little bush towards the back of the greenhouse where light was scarce even in the day. You had a sneaking suspicion that it had been given too much light due to signs of dehydration, which led to rot, which led to the mites. You set it gently back in the spot you had cleared out for it only yesterday and dusting your hands off on one of the hundreds of rags you kept lying around turned to see what other plants you could dote on. You could have almost scrammed at the fright of turning and riding a dark figure looming in the doorway that you had just come through to the back room.

it stepped forward and a low, deep, beautiful voice floated through the room, “No need to worry, Sweetheart. It’s just me.” Master Strange stepped out of the shadows and into the bright light of a singular moonbeam shining through the roof. He smiled at you widely looking around the room and noted, “It looks beautiful in here. I knew turning this thing over to you was a good idea.”

You wrung the rag in your hands and ducked your head, a blush spreading over your cheeks. You were processing a lot in those two sentences. First, his use of the nickname Sweetheart which he had called you on a few occasions and filled your stomach with butterflies each time. Two, his compliments which always made you feel dizzy. To have someone as talented as he acknowledged you in any way seemed unreal. And three, he looked— well, still handsome as always, the thought only making you blush harder— but something was off. He didn’t look well. His skin was presently flushed redder than your own, his breathing was erratic judging from the fact you could see him breathing in the first place, and his voice carried a certain undercurrent that you couldn’t identify.

You found your voice and managed out, “Thank you, Master Strange, that’s very kind.” Hesitating a moment you then asked, “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m… troubled at the moment.” He admits, stepping farther into the room, “I was on a mission earlier this afternoon and something rather absurd occurred.”

“You aren’t hurt are you?” You ask, your tone likely carrying far too much care for being a mere acquaintance

Or perhaps at this point, he might consider you a friend. You had never asked, always feeling it was a rather silly thing to question after. Men his age didn’t worry about friends and you feared your admission of the wonderment would make you seem so childish. He was a good deal older than you, but even still he had always shown you a kindness you couldn’t otherwise remember. Most people were nice, sure, but they were so rarely willing to spend their time with you. Master Strange always made a point to ask you about classes, offer his opinions on books you might find useful in your studies, and pop into the greenhouse from time to time to see how things were going— which was why his presence despite the hour didn’t concern you all that much.

“It’s complicated.” He says, “Not exactly physically hurt— not really— but… well, like I said, it’s complicated.”

You set down your rag on the table behind you and inquire, “Do you know what’s wrong? Do you have any symptoms?”

Master Strange chuckles and glances at you through the long, dark lashes you often found yourself envious of, “Plenty of symptoms, no solutions.”

“Well, what are the symptoms? Maybe I can help.” You offer eagerly, approaching him quickly, “There’s a solution for almost every ailment in botany, you’d be amazed.”

He takes another step toward you, eliminating almost all the distance between the two of you. You crane your neck upwards to look up at his beautiful blue eyes and find his pupils are oddly large. You take in a sharp breath and in it find a smell that doesn’t belong to any of your flora… it was muskier, darker, and alluring, though it wasn’t the smell of his cologne which you had become rather acquainted with. This was something different that you didn’t know what to make of.

“Would you like me to show you the symptoms?” He murmurs quietly

You nod dumbly, suddenly at a loss for words in such close proximity. You’re more than a bit surprised when you feel one of your hands taken up in his own. He brings it up and presses it against his forehead and you nearly jump at the warmth radiating from his skin. He was burning up! It was unlike any fever symptom you’d ever seen. You noticed that as the back of you hand brushed against his forehead he gave an audible sigh of relief. He then took your hand down and placed your fingers against the pulse point in his neck. His heart rate was rapid as if he’d just finished running miles— which you were certain from a first-hand account didn’t fatigue him half as much as whatever this ailment was.

Finally, he brought your hand lower. You thought he meant to return it to its spot at your side, but instead lead you somewhere different. Your eyes went wide as you realized what he had placed your hand against. Your face caught fire and out of pure bashfulness, you turned away from him, though not daring to move your hand. You knew, of course, what it meant. You knew what his body was asking him for, but you didn’t understand much beyond that. Your own body rarely begged for the same thing, dampened by the pressures and beliefs forced onto you in your childhood. You no longer held the same beliefs, but your innocence still lingered, making you unsure of how to address the situation or if you were expected to.

“Feel that?” He asks quietly, breaking the silence and tension in the room. You nod rather than speak, afraid your voice would waver if you did. He didn’t move your hand, instead situating your hand so that it was wrapped around the outline of his… symptom… and questions, “Do you know what it is?”

You shake your head and take in a shaky breath before saying, “I don’t know what caused it if not what normally would.” You continue, “I don’t know— I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

He gives a sort of chuckle and corrects, “No, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean do you know what caused it. I meant do you know what it is?”

“Well… of course I do!” You exclaim, eyes wide, “I believe everyone above the age of fifteen likely knows what that is!”

“I wasn’t sure.” He says, keeping your hand in place but moving even closer, his other hand coming up to cradle your cheek, “You just seem so shy and innocent. It’s hard to imagine you know anything about it at all.”

“I- well I- I know the basics.” You stutter out, cheeks growing warmer under his touch

“Have you ever tried it?” Your Master pries, “Have you ever done anything but what you’re doing now?”

You swallow hard and admit, “What I’m doing now… what I’m doing now is the most I’ve ever done.”

“Mm…” He hums out and tilts his face toward your own, “What do you think?”

“It’s um…” Your eyes flutter shut momentarily as his forehead touches your own, “different than I thought.”

“How so?”

“I didn’t think it would be this… hard.” You elaborate shyly, “And it’s bigger than I thought they were. I guess I’ve never really had a frame of reference.” 

Your chest tightens when Master Strange brings your hand to his waistband and asks, “Would you like to see it?”

“I- I don’t know if that’s appropriate. You’re m-my teacher, Master Strange.” You try to explain, “You could get in trouble.”

“There’s no one else around.” He murmurs, “I’d only be in trouble if you told someone.” Your knees go weak as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, those dark eyes tracking the movement slowly, “You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?” You shake your head no quickly and can only explain your compliance due to the adrenaline and curiosity running through your system. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Sweetheart. But don’t you want to know what it’s like?” Your breath catches as he places a gentle kiss against your cheek, his breath fanning across your neck as he continues, “I’d love to show you.”

You nod and to your surprise, his lips come to your own. You had kissed a boy once or twice, but only quickly. It had never been filled with the same want that this kiss was. His lips were warm and a little chapped, but not at all unpleasant. Your heart skipped what must have been several beats as he led the action slowly. You felt something stir— to your surprise the same feeling that had been stirring in your lonely, sleepless nights— and a small whimper escaped you. He bit softly into your bottom lip making you give a little gasp and with the open invitation before him, his tongue entered your mouth. You were in no place to focus on skill or technique as he reached down and now took both of your hands, guiding them to the drawstrings of his sweatpants. Feeling you were in little position to do much else but obey, you pulled carefully at the knot and untied it. He then brought your hands back to his waistband and you took your cue to pull his pants down.

Master Strange broke your kiss to give a sigh of relief, his head hanging back, the pulse in his neck visible in the silver light of the moon. His hair was damp, falling over his forehead, strong brow tensed as if the singular action of freeing him from his sweats made a world of difference. You were struck once more by just how handsome he was, a classical sort of masculine beauty that you didn’t believe anyone could deny if they tried. 

Your curiosity once again carried you further and you glanced down to find the object of his ailment in plain sight, no boxers between you and the machine as you had anticipated. You were quickly caught up in your ever-persisting modesty and drew back from him, almost afraid by what you saw. You had seen it in anatomical studies but never the real thing, having avoided pornography for the sake of your own posterity. You saw nothing wrong with those who watched it, but the idea always made you feel faint. But now having seen the real thing you wished you had some preparation in advance.

Master Strange, however, did not seem to share the same issue of modesty and all at once tore his sweatshirt over his head and threw it to the stone floor. He took you in his arms once again and kissed you with such fervor nearly all your qualms were forgotten— save for the remainder of the main offender poking insistently at your hip. But the kisses he lavished upon you were like magic, making you forget so quickly what you were afraid of. How could something wrong possibly feel so good? How was it possible that any of this was wrong when it felt so right? When he himself was clearly enjoying it just as much as you.

He pulled away far too soon and asks, “Are you scared?”

You nod and admit, “I’ve heard that it’s scary. That parts of it are painful.”

“Of course at the start, but it does feel good after a while.” He encourages, “And I’d never do anything to hurt you, Sweetheart. I just want to make you feel good. You’re so pretty, I’ve thought about you like this for so long.” You try to turn your face from him to hide a blush but he grabs your cheeks and forces you to look at him, “I want to make you feel good. You want to make me feel good, don’t you? So I can stop hurting?”

You feel your eyes go wide as you exclaim, “Of course! I don’t want you to hurt at all!”

He grins down at you and pecks your lips once more, murmuring, “That’s such a good girl.” The compliment makes your tummy turn and you can’t help but feel some magnificent feeling wash over you at the compliment. He takes your hand and leads you over to the chaise lounge you’d asked to have placed in the backroom so you had somewhere to rest in between caring for the plants and attending classes. “Sit down.” He commands. You lower yourself to the purple cushions, keeping your eyes upturned to the ceiling to avoid staring at his nakedness but he tuts, “Go ahead and look, Sweetheart. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Besides, it feels good when you look.”

You swallow hard and with permission look down at his member. It was indeed longer than you had anticipated and much thicker, leading you again to fear for what pain you would have to endure if Master Strange meant to take this where you thought he did. It stood tall, a pretty white flesh color topped with a desire-colored tip, leaking fluid that you knew meant intense arousal. There was a thatch of brown curls at his base that tapered off into a happy trail, leading to a very well-sculpted abdomen and chest sheening with sweat. 

As intimidating as the image was, it caused an undeniable stirring in your own stomach… or more accurately, somewhere lower.

“Touch me.” Stephen breathes out, enflamed further by your careful observation of his figure

“H-how?” You stutter out

“However you’d like.” He offers, something in his twisted system reveling in your purity and timidity

You nod and bring one of your little hands up, at first to his thigh, your eyes scanning him as if looking for the best place to start. His abs clench as you bring your other hand up and trace through the center of the muscles, down and down until reaching the hair on his pubic bone. You cautiously reach out and simply trail one finger up his length, from the base all the way to tip. At the tip, he smiles when you wipe over his precum and rub it between your fingers. You reach back out and wrap your hand around the middle of his cock, slowly sliding upwards, making it jump at the touch.

Stephen chuckles when you look up at him startled and reaches down, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your soft cheek as he explains, “It feels good, Sweetheart. That happens when it feels good sometimes.”

Seemingly delighted by this information you take your hand back down his length and back up again, smile slowly growing wider with every twitch and jump of his cock. Stephen let his head hand back, a deep sigh leaving his lips. It felt better than the times he had attempted to solve his problem tonight, and not just better in the normal way it feels better to have someone else please you. He could feel it in his system, his body unwinding as if it knew he had finally sought out a genuine solution to his problem.

Stephen looks back down at you and asks, “Would you put it in your mouth for me?” He sees you hesitate and reassures, “It’d feel so good. It’s already feeling a bit better, I just need more.”

“I just don’t know how…” You explain, trailing off

Stephen brings his hand to the back of your head and encourages, “All you have to do it open those pretty lips and stick out your tongue. I’ll tell you what I need and do the rest of the work, Sweetheart.” You nod and stick your tongue out a little, lips parting slightly and Stephen chuckles, “Baby, your hand barely fits around my cock, you think it’ll fit in your mouth like that?” You blush and open your mouth wider so Stephen praises, “That’s a good girl. Keep your mouth open and breathe through your nose.”Stephen only places his tip on your tongue at first and demands, “Suck on my head. Nice and slow for me.”

You close your lips around him and suck at his head gently, your hands coming to his hips, solely looking for something to hold. Your eyes fluttered closed, brow tensing in concentration and Stephen couldn’t help but smile. He was delighted to find you were as innocent as you seemed, not to mention totally willing to respond to every whim of his. Deep down somewhere that the yellow dust had buried, he knew that this was wrong. He knew that though you weren’t saying no, you weren’t giving an emphatic yes. But something in his twisted system rejoiced in that sick fact. He liked how willing you were, even if you weren’t entirely sure.

Stephen let out a sigh and instructs, “Use more of your tongue…” You immediately swirled your tongue around his head and he hums, “Good girl… so good at following directions.” He pulls you off his tip with a little pop and smiles at the lost look on your face, “Now open up wide for me again.”

You open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out and Stephen immediately took to thrusting inside. It was so warm, so inviting. He kept his hand on the back of your head, keeping it still for him to work with, and let his eyes close briefly. He ventured a little farther and felt as you tried to swallow around him, the contraction causing a moan to slip past his lips. 

He opened his eyes and reminded you, “Breathe through your nose. Don’t worry about the spit. I don’t mind. We want to get that cock nice and wet. Feels so good, you know?” You gag a bit and he smiles as drool runs out one corner of your mouth, “That’s it, that’s a good girl. You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His voice was soft but insistent as if speaking to a wounded animal, “Th-that’s it. You take it just like that. I know it’s big but it feels so… good…” 

Stephen punctuated the last two words with sharper thrusts that caused you to gag around him once more. Your nails dug into his thighs, but you didn’t try to pull away from him. You were so lost all you could do was exactly what he asked you, desperate to prove yourself useful, wanting to prove you cared. His thrusts got wilder and wilder until you were choking on him with every thrust, tears starting to flow down your face. Stephen finally drew back when one thrust deeper than the rest made you heave, keeping his hand fisted in your hair and taking himself from the warmth of your mouth. You took in a gasping breath and gave a little sniffle, staring up at him with wide eyes, your face streaming with tears, chin glistening with saliva. You looked wrecked and all he’d done was fuck your mouth.

Stephen leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in an attempt to make up for the abuse and cooed, “You’re doing so good, Sweetheart. That feels so good.” He wipes the tears from under your eyes and asks, “You see how it’s done now? Will you keep going for me? I’ll let you control it this time. I’m so close.”

You swallow hard and manage out, “Yes.”

Stephen moves to sit himself at the head of the lounge chair, still propped up, legs spread wide, unashamed. It was in that moment he realized just how much shame he was lacking about the whole ordeal. He wasn’t typically concerned during sex, but there was always some nagging about whether or not his partner was pleased by him. That didn’t exist this time. You turned to face him and Stephen nodded toward his erection, still standing proud and aching far less than it had been, though still not a comfortable amount.

Assessing the situation you came to the realization on your own that you would have to put yourself in a rather suggestive position to take him it seemed, and to Stephen’s delight, you did so without complaint. He watched as you sat up on your knees before lowering yourself, your ass raised high in the air, mouth right where he needed it. You started slowly under your own control, suckling on his head once again, but it felt so good Stephen couldn’t find it in himself to complain.  He let out a moan as you suck down around him farther, your tongue stroking at the vein that ran along the underside of his cock just right.

“Oh my God… Baby.” He groans, “That feels so nice.” He looks down to find you already staring up at him and his cock twitches, “You felt that? You’re so pretty my cock jumps when I look at you, Sweetheart. You make it feel so good.” You give a little whimper, brow tensing and eyes shining at the compliment, “You’re gonna make me cum soon. That’s why it had a heartbeat, can you feel it?” You nod, your head bobbing up and down his length as you do so. “I guess you’ve never seen someone cum before, have you?”

You draw off his length to say, “No sir.” And despite your little experience, your hand seems to understand it has a void to fill given it finding residence on his length, stroking slowly. “I… what does it do? I know that it comes from…” You trail off, cheeks flushing

Stephen raises a brow and teases, “Where does it come from, Baby? Huh?”

“Your balls.” You murmur quietly, “And through your tip. But… but how much of it? And where is it supposed to go when we’re doing this?”

“There’s a lot.” Stephen says, “Enough to fill up your mouth. And that’s where I want it to go. I want you to drink it up for me, okay? Don’t waste a drop. If you’re a good girl I’ll show you something else.”

You flutter your lashes at him and ask, “What does it taste like?”

“It’s salty.” He says, reaching down and stroking your cheek. “Some people don’t like it, but good girls do.”

“And I’m a good girl, so I’ll like it.” You reason

Stephen practically beamed. You were falling further and further into the role you needed to take for him to properly fulfill the need inside him. He nods in response and without further question, you go back to sucking him off. Both your little hands were planted on his thighs,  nails leaving presents in his skin whenever you pushed yourself just a little too far. Stephen watches you work over him, his chest heaving, pleasure rising higher and higher. He could feel it start at the base of his spine, the oncoming explosion that was sure to leave him breathless. His hands grappled for something to hold to, one finding the back of the chair, and the other finding your hair once more.

Stephen, despite his promising you were in control, could help the thrust of his hips into your mouth, and to his delight it didn’t seem to startle you. You continued to gag on his length, still not quite sure how to take so much, especially not in this position, but your willingness was endearing. The last thing he felt before stars burst behind his eyelids was a subtle brush to his balls. He let out an inhuman groan as he came apart, no time to warn you. 

He felt you sputter as the liquid shooting into the back of your throat came as a surprise, but he held you right where he had you. He refused to stop thrusting upwards, stop seeking the comfort your mouth provided, because he could tell he still had far more to give. When he finally resigned himself to pulling out of your mouth and opening his eyes, he was met with the image of your confused face, brows knit together, and some of his seed leaking down your chin.

“Don’t waste any.” He repeats lowly

This seems to snap you back to the present, at which you reach up and collect the semen on your finger before popping it in your mouth. You suck your finger clean and Stephen watches as you deliberate before a shy smile spreads on your lips.

“I do kind of like it…”

Master Strange laughs and crooks his finger at you and you crawl over, sitting on your knees between his spread legs. You look back down at his erection and notice it hasn’t decreased in size one bit, much to your confusion. 

“Some men can go more than once.” He supplies, “But I also think that this has something to do with whatever dust I walked into. It’s not normally still this hard after the first round.”

You nod and ask, “Do you feel any better?”

“A little.” He says, “But now I know what I need for sure to make it all better.” 

You shift a little and chew on your bottom lip. You knew, of course, what he was referring to, but you were so scared. You had heard terrible things about the stretch and the hurt and the bleeding… and you weren’t on birth control! What if you got pregnant?

“I’m not on anything…” You murmur vaguely, though he seems to understand

Instead of what you were certain would be an outraged response, you instead saw his member twitch at the declaration. No sooner had you made the statement than you were in his lap, straddled across the hard appendage that now rested rather comfortably between your thighs. The spot in which it hit lit aflame, what you could only describe as a feeling of neediness rising to the surface. And that, that was precisely what you had been feeling all those sleepless nights under the covers, though never knowing what to do about it. Your shifting doesn’t go unnoticed by your Master, who grabs your hips and stills you making you pout down at him.

“What’s the issue, Baby?” You’re quiet for a long while, looking for the words to express your discomfort before he guesses, “Are you feeling weird down below?” You nod and Stephen reassures, “That’s normal, Sweetheart. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“No.” You deny

“No?” He asks, seeming surprised by the answer, “What you’re feeling it was I’m feeling.” He explains, “I bet when you feel like this sometimes you get all wet down there, huh?” You nod shyly and he smiles, “Can I feel?” Your hole clenches at the thought, but you nod, ready and willing to explore the feeling. “Well I need to get you naked then, Baby.” 

With a snap of his fingers your bare, completely exposed to the cool air, your nipples pebbling the first thing to make you aware of the change. You cover yourself the best you can, though enough of your figure available to his eyes to not dissuade his staring. But it’s more than staring. He was devouring your figure, every curve, every dimple, every detail. He reaches up and takes your wrists gently, slowly pulling them away from your chest, letting him observe you in entirety. Your face and chest flush and you have to look away, completely embarrassed by the nudity.

“You’re perfect, Sweetheart.” He murmurs, a sweet sentiment followed by the then shocking statement, “I’m pleased to hear you aren’t on birth control. You’ll look even prettier carrying my baby.”

With that, Stephen sat up and promptly descended upon you. All the air was taken from your lungs as you were laid out flat on your back, his broad frame over you, his knees between your thighs keeping them well open. His erection sat against your tummy, its’ still leaking tip spreading the pearlescent fluid across your skin. He leaned down and peppered kisses across your bare skin, so many you couldn’t keep track of, you could only lay there in a daze accepting the tokens. You gave a gasp when his lips traveled farther and one wrapped around your nipple, the sensation of his warm tongue soothing the ache of the stiff bud. Your hand went to his hair as if on instinct and you knew all was lost at that point.

His hand traveled lower until his fingers gently separated your lower lips, the first contact making you jump and bit. Master Strange kept one hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing a small circle round ad around before you felt the first breach. It seemed impossibly tight, even just a finger alone! What surprised you, however, was that it didn’t hurt you as much as it had simply frightened you. Pushing past your fear you recognized that this was a man looking to feel good and make feel good, and though you were still slightly on edge, you were more relieved at having completed the first step.

He moved his finger in and out of you slowly a few times before quickly adding the second. You winced a bit, the stretch not particularly pleasant, and then let out a shocked gasp as a third finger was immediately added. Stephen whispered sweet words to you the whole way through, his lips working over your neck and in your ear to distract from the discomfort.

“Fuck I need to be inside you, Baby.” Stephen groans against his skin, “Say yes, please. Let me have you.”

“Yes.” You breathe out as quickly as possible, spreading your legs wider in invitation

It was all a whirlwind then. His lining up with your entrance, his teasing your pleasure spot, your own desperate writhing. You needed him. And then in one swift moment, he was inside you. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tight and biting into his bicep. The action caused a hiss of pain and pleasure to escape his lips and then the brutal assault began. He was everywhere. His hands roamed wherever they could, his lips tasting any flesh available, animalistic groans and grunts in your ears, far more vocal than you’d ever imagined him being. The drug was far more potent than you’d anticipated.

“More.” You beg, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer, the sting of the stretch feeling oh so right

You wrap your legs around his waist, hands moving to his hair where you pull on the dark locks harshly. Stephen let out a groan and brought his lips to yours, leading you into a filthy, wet, uncoordinated kiss. His pelvic bone bumping against your clit and the friction of the coarse hair stimulated you just right. Every grind into your heat sent fire through your limbs, your release so close after so long a build up.

“It’s so good.” He grunts, “Pussy is so fucking good, Sweetheart. So wet and tight. All for me, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, Master Strange.” You sob out, “All yours.”

“Damn straight.” He grits out, grabbing beneath your knees and forcing your legs back, making room for him to dive even deeper into your heat. “God this shit feels so good.” He pants out, “I can’t think straight. All I feel is you. I can fucking smell you, Baby. I can feel every ridge on every one of your walls. Never felt someone like this.”

“Oh my God…” You moan out, “You’re so deep, Steph. You’re so deep.”

“Good.” He snarls, “Wanna make sure my cum is nice and close to that final destination. I wasn’t joking about knocking you up. I can already see it.” He all but growls, slamming into you harder, “Everyone will know you’re mine. First and last to ever have you, yeah?” He pants, taking your face in one hand and demanding, “Tell me you want it too, Baby. Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Stephen drove into that perfect spot over and over again and managed to stutter out, “P-please get me pregnant.”

“Your belly will look so pretty all nice and round. These pretty tits all swollen and sore… don’t worry, I’ll make ‘em feel better, Sweetheart. Massage ‘em every chance I get. You’ll be such a good mom, take care of our kids so well.” His breathing was sporadic as he continued, “Gonna fuck a baby into you and tell everyone it’s mine. Let everyone know what a good girl you are letting me use you.” 

“Yes, Stephen.” You plead, just as swept away in the fantasy as he was at this point, “Please cum, cum inside me. Wanna carry your baby, wanna be a good girl for you.”

“Ask one more time. What do you want from me, Sweetheart?”

“I want you to get me pregnant. Please.” You sob, something finally snapping, your orgasm crashing over you all too soon

Stephen followed behind just as quickly, but his finish took much longer to come to a true end. Your name was a plea on his lips, murmured over and over again as he filled you with an even larger load than what you’d received in oral. You weren’t sure how long after the fact you laid there with him collapsed on top of you, your arms wrapped around your lover.

All you knew was you had some very interesting findings to catalog.

Stephen woke up to the harsh sunlight and the warmth of it across naked skin. He gave a groan as he opened his eyes and was met with the very pleasant image of your frame wrapped in a silk robe. You sat at the little desk in the back of the greenhouse so often used to fill journals with different findings in relation to your plants. Some days he would come in just to sit and watch you work.

“Good morning, Steph.” You chirp without turning your attention away from your writing, “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Awful.” He grunts out, “That shit is worse than a hangover, I swear.”

You give a little laugh and ask, “Heart rate back to normal?”

“Yep.”

“Feeling unusually warm?”

“Yes, but that may have something to do with the sunlight coming through.” He says

You spin around in your chair and Stephen can’t help but smile at the way your eyes observe him. You were rapt with him. He was built like a goddamn statue, carved from stone and now defined the perfect male figure for you. You stood and grabbed the plate of food from the desk beside you, taking your water bottle and walking it over to him as well. Stephen spread his legs to make room for you to plop down in front of him, reclining backward and feeling his front against your back.

“Avocado toast.” You say offering him the plate, “And water. Drink up.”

Stephen gives a pleased hum and grabs a piece of the toast taking a moment to ask, “Anything interesting this time?” before shoving the food in his mouth.

“Yes, actually.” You agree, “Your level of coercion remains consistent, which was unexpected for this round in particular. I expected you to be… pushier… if you thought I was a virgin. Maybe I still just seemed too willing?” You muse, mostly to yourself. “I’d hate to see the results, but we made need to run a test where I act completely unwilling.”

Stephen grimaces, “Fuck, that makes me feel gross thinking about it.”

“I know and I understand if you’re completely against the idea. But do remember, it’s all just an act. Trick of the mind due to the pollen and a spell. Even if you think I’m unwilling, I’m completely consenting.”

He grunts and says, “I’ll think on it. What else did you find?”

“Well, you were still fascinated with oral, but I think something about my playing innocent made you softer… at least marginally. You actually ejaculated in my mouth once before penetration. In the last three studies, you refused to ejaculate anywhere that wasn’t strictly inside me. Which is odd because this time actually said you wanted to get me pregnant—“

Stephen chokes on his toast, “I said what?”

“Yeah. You really wanted to knock me up. Which I guess makes sense as I’m fairly certain the plant was created to drive reproductive motivations. Something about, and I quote, ‘fucking a baby into me and telling everyone it’s yours.’”

“Jesus.” He mutters, “I mean— you know I love you, Baby, but I’m not quite there yet.”

You laugh and agree, “I know, I know. But I wonder if there’s some part of you that is that the pollen brings to the surface?”

“I guess there has to be. Reproduction is the basest human instinct.” He takes another bite of his toast and asks, “Any other tests in mind?”

“Plenty, but I need you to take at least a week to rest. We have to keep our variables consistent.”

“Can’t believe a plant that makes people want to fuck will be your claim to fame.” Stephen snorts, poking at your side

You swat his hand away, “Can’t believe being the test subject will be yours.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let another man fuck my girlfriend stupid under the influence of what’s essentially a drug.”

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back to look up at him

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asks

“No, you were much sweeter than normal.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No! I mean— well, in terms of the pollen, sweeter than normal. But it’s still eerie how your personality shifts based on the idea of who you think I am.”

“It’s almost like a sociopathic attribute.” Stephen muses, “I’d love to see a CAT of brain activity on versus off the pollen.”

“You think Christine would be willing to let us use the ER’s?” You joke

Stephen chuckles, “Doubt it.”

“Damn.” You pout, “That would have been an interesting section for the paper.”

Stephen laughs heartily and pulls you gently back against them once more, “A botany paper that will never see the light of day outside this fortress. You really are something, you know that?”

“Mhm.” You hum, lifting your head and placing a soft kiss on his jaw, “You remind me every day, Doctor.”