#stephens

There’s a saying that magic is just science that hasn’t been discovered yet. You were finding out that this was true, because this magic was boosting chemistry, chemistry between you and Dr Strange, a chemistry that you had been denying to yourself for a long time. “It was your spell that caused this!” You said, your breath coming out in heavier pants despite your lack of action. You were doing everything in your power not to look at Stephen again, to avoid the feeling of the heat spreading through your veins. It only grew stronger if you looked anywhere near him. Even hearing his voice right now was enough to make your mouth start to water. “It wasn’t mine, it was yours, and you’re going to fix this,” Stephen’s deep voice seemed even deeper than normal. There was a hint of a growl in there, which made the hairs on the back of your arm stand straight up. You took a deep breath to try to calm yourself, but that as well made things worse. You could faintly smell his expensive cologne. Your magic had hit against his while the both of you were casting potent power spells on one another. Thank the gods you were not in the middle of a bigger battle, and it was just the two of you. His team would have had the jump on you big time with how distracted you were. “If I knew how to fix this, I would have done it already!” You cried out. Your determination and willpower were starting to bleed dry, the heat between you and Stephen was growing too high. It was like the power had been cast on the invisible sexual tension rather than on the intended target. You looked at him, despite your fighting, and found that he was looking right back at you. He broke first, moving towards you, his hands going on top of yours as if to stop you from casting anything else. His touch was so tender. The back of his hands, those beautiful surgical hands, veiny and scarred. “Let’s do it together then,” He said, hoarsely. As you attempted to come up with counter spells, your brain was swarming with images. Of other things that he could do with those damn hands. How they could have a power of their own over you, manipulating your body, making you do whatever he pleased. You nearly groaned as you attempted to shake the thoughts away. The worst part of it was that Stephen was smirking, not fighting as harshly as you against the reaction that the spells had. His eyes were dark as they looked at you. Lustful. But he didn’t make a move, not without your permission. “This never happened, right?” You said, as your fingers moved in unison, casting together. “No one is ever going to hear about this.” “Not a word,” He said, trying to focus on his finger movements. But you both knew that this was going to live in on your head, in your dreams, and it was definitely going to affect the way you reacted around one another from now on, even when the spell was broken.

Black Man Reading Newspaper by Candlelight (1863)