Chapter Text
Debbie had really thought better of Nolan.
You think you know someone for almost twenty years of your life. You have a meet cute when he saves your life. You fall in love. You get married. You have a son, the light of your lives.
Or well, so Debbie had thought. She thought he felt the same way about Mark. That no matter what he did, he would be wonderful. That he could either never get his powers, go to college, and live a normal life, or get his powers and become a superhero, just like his father. These things ran in the family, didn’t they? Especially when one’s dad was the top superhero in the world.
She stared at the glass of red wine in front of her, the liquid as red as the blood that had been splattered across her son’s face. Not just his own blood. The blood of countless people. The blood of his father. She could see it in her mind’s eye, the security footage from that massacre. She couldn’t call it anything else. Hundreds of people, blown into blood and viscera as two unstoppable forces flew through a crowded train at rush hour.
Her husband, the kindest man she knew. The man whose hands spent hours putting together a play house for Mark when he was young. Whose hands carried takeout back to the house when she didn’t feel like cooking, back and forth from the country of choice in a flash. Whose hands wrapped around her at night, right below her ribs, keeping her secure. Keeping her safe.
What a load of shit.
Debbie stood, taking the glass of wine by the stem. Mark, on dozens of IV lines and a ventilator, unable to breathe through the blood that swallowed his lungs, the force that his chest had been struck with. Her baby boy, eyes swollen shut, teeth knocked out. The baby that she’d spent hours pushing out of herself. When Nolan had held her hand throughout the entire ordeal. Refusing to leave her side. Able to stave off hunger, exhaustion, and nature’s call just to support her the entire time. She didn’t need to fear his hand breaking from the force she’d put on it. And when their son was born, and he cut the cord, only then did he step out of the room for a moment.
To return with a giant sushi boat. At the time, she’d laughed. She knew he’d gone out to get her something to eat– couldn’t eat for twelve hours in case they’d have to go in for a c-section– but she hadn’t expected something so extravagant. She could see him sitting in a sushi restaurant in Tokyo, tapping his foot as a poor hapless chef had to prepare her feast. And he’d delivered it back without a single roll out of place.
But now that she knew the truth, she almost wondered. Did he do all of that for her? Because he loved her? Or was it just because she was giving birth to his progeny? His heir? Did only he see her as his prized bitch, giving birth to his pups that would go on to conquer the world? Did she just get a nice, fancy sushi for her ordeals to placate her, like a steak to a dog?
Her hand slammed against the counter, in a sudden flash of glass and red wine. Crystal. He’d bought these a long time ago, for an anniversary she didn’t remember. She’d always liked wine. He took them to Italy for their honeymoon a long, long time ago. She could still smell the Veneto countryside. See the beautiful, blue-tinged mountains that corralled them into the valley, with crystalline waters flowing on the river in the distance. The red-tiled roofs of houses, just so quintessentially Italian. Cyprus trees dotting the landscape, like tiny fingers reaching for the sky.
She felt that silly, wide-brimmed straw hat against her neck, instead of where it lay abandoned in the closet. Her old sundress, a red sweetheart neckline. She could see Nolan in his polo, eyes sparkling as he observed a bunch of grapes on the vine, almost intent.
“I’ve never seen plants like these before. They’re… beautiful. Like tiny little planets, bunched together in a galaxy.”
She’d laughed then. Found it funny how he could compare everything to the galaxy. And yet, he saw it in everything. He saw every wonder of the human world as another gorgeous piece of the galaxy.
Or was he just planning to take over their world then? Imagining what they could do with those grapes? Did he just see Earth as another grape in the bunch? Another perfect, pearlescent purple orb among the many, indistinguishable ones?
Debbie planted her hands against the counter, not minding the wine or the shards of glass.
Deep down, she knew the truth.
No matter what smile Nolan put on his face, everything had been a lie. A beautiful, dreamlike lie. But a lie nonetheless. She’d never be happy under the thumb of whatever alien race Nolan came from. Even if Nolan had showered her in gifts. Even if he took her zipping around the world like they always did. Even if she lived a long, long time…
Still just his pet.
He’d outlive her by millenia. She’d be a withered, dying husk by the time he even had another gray hair. She bet he just dyed it to make her feel better. To make her come to terms with her own crippling mortality. What said he wouldn’t find another beautiful Debbie, somewhere out in the world? That he wouldn’t seduce her, meet cute, fall in love, get married, and shove another progeny out of her cunt?
She could feel her forehead starting to throb. Her baby, in the hospital, and all she could do was think about Nolan. Stupid. Stupid. Wine and Nolan. Two vices she couldn’t afford right now.
Cecil warned her not to think too hard. But that really just opened the floodgates. Put a giant flashing sign on the possibility. If he hadn’t said that, perhaps she wouldn’t have even considered it. But she did.
With a deep breath, Debbie pushed back from the counter. She had to bandage her hand. Pull the glass out of it. Clean herself up. Take a goddamn shower. Go back to the hospital and endure more of Cecil’s flat stare, so empty, but so pitying at the same time.
Because she was normal.
Debbie had nothing on them. She didn’t have billions of taxpayer dollars to burn on teleporting around. She didn’t have her son’s never-ending drive, keeping him alive. She couldn’t even dream of having Nolan’s power.
The best she could do was have a sliver granted to her. Demeaning. Pitying. Self-serving. Self-satisfying.
She huffed, opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing the tweezers. Fuck doing this safe. Let it get infected. Let her hand burn. It meant nothing compared to her son’s pain. Glass shards tinked against the stone countertop as she pulled them out, coming out easier than she thought. Small mercies. Just to feel the sting, she rubbed the disinfectant alcohol onto the wound, gritting her teeth through the sudden, sharp acidic burn. With a few bandaids hap-hazardly slapped onto it (spongebob, for some stupid reason), she shoved everything back into the cabinet. Maybe she needed to read a book. Maybe she could distract herself. Resigned, Debbie shuffled out of the kitchen, taking one last look outside through the sliding glass doors.
And locked eyes with her husband.
Debbie had once wondered how it felt to be prey. Despite all of her husband’s strength, not once did he ever make her feel like a ragdoll. He didn’t throw her around, didn’t flex his strength like others might. He treated her with gentleness. A soft, caressing hand on her side. Delicate fingers, prying her open. Never holding his size over her and forcing her to take it. Never leaving her alone in that mess they left behind, always dutifully coming back with a nice, hot washcloth. A steel man surrounded by a cardboard world.
But now her heart raced in her chest, her fingers twitching from the disinfectant. Her breaths came fast, puffing out of her mouth in and out, in and out, in and out– And no matter what signals her brain tried to send, she couldn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t move. A deer in the headlights of her alien husband’s slightly glowing eyes.
The bastard looked clean as a whistle. No blood on his stupid red and white hero suit. Not a lick of her son’s blood on his skin. Just a tired, exhausted expression, and pleading, bright blue eyes.
She wanted to grab the bottle of wine from the countertop and throw it at him.
She wanted to scream and run into his arms, slamming her hands against his chest. Just like he’d slammed his own into Mark’s face.
She wanted to flee. She wanted to run away, anywhere, anywhere but this damn temporary house right across the street from a smoking rubble he’d created. Their home. With all their memories. Their pictures. Their bedrooms they’d lived in for years.
But she didn’t. Why would she? Throwing a bottle of wine at Nolan wouldn’t even make him flinch. Screaming at him wouldn’t make him think twice. How could she outrun a man who could cross a room in the blink of an eye?
And since she didn’t move, that monster in the shell of her husband slid open the door, stepping inside. Like a hesitant hunter, unsure if the prey would bolt. He’d always been like that. Not wanting to scare the rabbits on their walks at dusk. Not wanting the squirrels to dart up a tree trunk as he passed by. So gentle, and yet so goddamn brutal.
Her brain made a decision.
Run.
She didn’t want to hear excuses. She didn’t want him to steal her away into the galaxy. She wouldn’t let him kill her. Her baby still needed her.
Inhale. Exhale. Sprint.
Without another thought, Debbie ran for the staircase. Perhaps Nolan hadn’t expected her to bolt at that moment, because it took him a moment to start chasing after her. It took him a moment, and he didn’t even use his speed or his flight. Didn’t burst through a wall like he did to Donald. Or god forbid the ceiling. Nope. Just chased after her, like an ordinary man would. But even if he was faster, Debbie knew this house already. She’d memorized the floorplan obsessively the moment she settled in. Couldn’t let this happen to her. Couldn’t let him catch her off guard.
Debbie ran for the bedroom next, hearing Nolan slam against the wall on the landing. Faster. Smarter. Smoother. She flung open the door, shutting it behind her and throwing the lock.
Just a distraction. Just to buy five seconds.
He jiggled the lock, but of course, he couldn’t wear the facade of harmless husband for too long. His fist creaked on the locked knob, and forced it open. The door slammed into the wall, wood splintering, and a momentary flash of rage across his face–
Just to meet a strange, rectangular muzzle aimed right at the forehead.
“Night, Nolan.”
She pulled the trigger, headphones on her ears, and prayed.
Couldn’t hear a blessed thing with the headphones Cecil had given her, but she could see Nolan heard it quite well. High enough frequency that she’d wake all the dogs in the neighborhood, but one could chalk that up to coincidence.
No.
Her husband suddenly flailed, scrambling to put his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help. This sound could pierce any barrier put in place she knew of, even a viltrumite’s ears. Cecil had told her, only in emergencies, but this was an emergency. A strange sight, seeing her husband scream silently, falling to his knees in front of her. His face, twisted in agony, sclera turning red again as he looked up, likely screaming pleas to stop.
She wouldn’t.
Not until he passed out.
His body continued to crumple from the strain, collapsing in a heap before her. Only when he started twitching did her finger let off the trigger. He could just be faking. She kept herself prepared, ready to fire off another blast of this weapon.
But Nolan didn’t get up. He didn’t play possum. Bloody tears smeared across his face and the carpet, unconscious face still startlingly pained. Blood welled from his ears too, blooming across the neck of his suit.
Her husband, an unstoppable, killing machine tank. Taken down by a single sound frequency.
She ripped off her headphones, if just to hear the sound of him breathing. They came even but shallow, perhaps speaking to the great pain he’d just endured. A deaf Viltrumite would really be an unstoppable force. Hopefully she hadn’t deafened him just now. But his inner ears would need time to heal, if they did at all.
Relieved, she fell backwards onto the bed, sitting for a moment as she caught her breath. Her heart rate started to slow. Her hands still shook, with the device kept in one at all times. But god. She was alive. She didn’t let him kill her.
…But what to do with him now? She could call Cecil and let him know she’d caught him. But what would Cecil do with him? Put some kind of mind control on him like the Mauler Twins did to The Immortal?
Even if he fucked up her life, she did love him.
Couldn’t stop that, even if he went absolutely berserk.
…Maybe she’d wait a few days. Give Cecil enough time to start getting anxious. He probably had a way to record when this device was used, didn’t he?
Maybe if he was anxious enough, she’d have a bargaining chip or two. Get her husband and her son back, in some way.
With a deep breath, she looked for the other tools Cecil had given her. Devices meant to protect her. Devices she’d be using for entirely different reasons.
Nolan Greyson prided himself on being the strongest man in the solar system, currently.
Admittedly, whatever the fuck everyone else was up to could be more impressive, much stronger, but at least here, in this system, Nolan Greyson won the right of strongest motherfucker around. He could curbstomp a planet in less than five hours. And then spend the rest of the next few days getting home, but still, new record.
Some viltrumites could do it in one. Some just had to press their finger against the ground and it’d be like an atomic bomb had hit the entire planet at once. Human terms. So many human terms he kept thinking in.
Nolan Greyson was technically dead. Omni-Man wasn’t technically an acceptable moniker either. Nowl-Ahn was the one who came shooting back into earth’s atmosphere in the after hours, most likely noticed but not kicking up a fuss yet.
Admittedly, sneaking back onto a planet hours after he’d just slaughtered quite a veritable number of people living on the planet could be considered a “bad idea”. But considering the fact that Cecil had to literally trying dropping the sun (beam) on him just to get him to fuck off for a few minutes… well, Cecil could try to throw something at him, but his best option was his currently beaten halfway to hell son.
So he hadn’t felt too dubious about sneaking back into the house. He didn’t really know what he’d been thinking, honestly. Maybe he hoped he could watch Debbie for a bit. Make sure she had food and water before he went away for a while. Wonder if she missed him. If she’d been pacing the living room wondering where he went. If she just sat by the door, waiting for him to come back.
So when she threw a glass of wine he’d gotten a little bit worried. He could smell her blood in the air when she did it, cutting her hand on the little shards. He’d almost ran in then, to clean her up, but something stopped him. Maybe it’d been the palpable waves of anger just rolling off of her, like smoke out of a chimney. He didn’t doubt her aim, nor her willingness to throw the bottle at him next.
He could feel her anguish. Her burning rage. All of it. Not psychically, but after spending so much time around humans, he could just tell.
He hadn’t expected her to look at the sliding glass door. He thought she’d trudge away to collapse on her bed. Maybe he’d watch her sleep for a bit before he went off to the next planet he had to handle. But…
Yeah.
At first, she’d stayed so still he wondered if she wanted him to approach. So he tried it. And then she started running.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
If she got to her phone and did something stupid like call in an airstrike or get Cecil to carpet bomb the goddamn neighborhood just to get back at him–
Because the only thing that’d really piss him off now is if Debbie somehow offed herself just to make him mad–
He chased her without thinking, not realizing he’d walked right into a trap.
He couldn’t think too hard about the agony of that goddamn frequency gun. Letting Cecil know his weaknesses was a bad, bad idea. But he thought it wasn’t that easy to exploit. You’d have to make something super high powered just to knock him down.
He’d severely underestimated the power of Cecil’s pockets. IE, the tax dollars of all Americans. Fucking robber baron.
And so now Nowl-Ahn found himself in a rather fine predicament.
First, he’d noticed the location. Not that bedroom, but a basement. Joy. White, unpainted walls for all. At least he had a bed. Then, he’d seen the cuffs on his wrists, binding them together, and felt another shit coming to his mind.
Well, he didn’t know how Cecil did it, but he’d made cuffs Nolan couldn’t even rip apart. Using his own strength against him. Magnetized, but on opposite sides than you might expect. He couldn’t move his hands against each other to break the device, or he’d be fighting his own arms. Great. Brilliant. He’d be impressed if it didn’t piss him off so much.
And lastly… his ears were still ringing. A low level buzz, but still there. Even better. Ears were still healing. Cuffs wouldn’t matter if he could fly away, but they didn’t show much improvement from the stabbing pain, now more of a dull throb.
For a moment, he pondered how long Cecil had been setting this up. Buying more time, perhaps? Fucking bastard.
But he wasn’t left to ponder for long. A pair of footsteps came down the basement stairs, and even through his ringing ears, he could hear that much. He expected Cecil to come down those stairs, and start laying into him about how awful he was. About how it had been so easy to catch him with Debbie as bait. How they were in some top secret basement of some top secret lab in some government facility.
And yet, it wasn’t Cecil that stepped out from behind the wall.
Debbie stood there, shoulders squared, and eyes narrowed. Hair loose from her bun, shifting around her shoulders. Dressed in one of those pajama sets he got her every year for Christmas. Some satin brand, this one with an unassuming floral design. What flower was that again? Snapdragons? Foxglove? He could never tell the difference.
Tucked into the elastic waistband, he could see that frequency emitter she’d used earlier. It made a lump against her hip, but she walked as if she didn’t even feel it digging in. In one of her hands, she held her phone. In the other, a glass of wine. His eyes followed her as she walked around the bed, taking a seat in the chair at the foot of it.
Her shoulders slouched as she sat there, watching him. She swirled the wine in her glass for a moment, then took a long sip, gaze unbroken on him.
And once she set her glass down, she spoke.
“...Do I really seem like a pet to you?”
That question lanced right at his heart, down to the very core of their relationship. He could see the simmering anger in her eyes. The way her mouth pulled itself into a straight line, lips slightly stained by her drink of choice.
A lie wouldn’t cut it. She wouldn’t buy it if he tried to deny it.
“...Right now?”
“Answer the goddamn question, Nolan.” She spat out, her expression not even shifting.
“Yes. Yes, alright? It’s not my fault. You people own dogs and cats and all kinds of weird animals that you outlive by multipliers . Doesn’t mean you don’t love them.”
“Last time I fucking checked, Nolan, we don’t typically knock up our pets with our fucking children!” She screamed back, her hands snapping out to the bedframe and knuckles going white with her grip. “When someone fucks a dog we tend to viciously mock them! Or treat them like a plague! On what planet is it considered okay to fuck your dog?!”
He recoiled, heart starting to pound in his chest. No need to panic. No need to freak out. He could pull this back. He could try to explain it.
“Well, I haven’t come across one yet, but I don’t mean it like that . What you consider a pet is… it’s different from the Viltrumite definition. Look, you’re not an animal , you’re… how do I put it… like uh…”
He’d have to consider his next words carefully. He could see just how pissed off he’d made her just with her expression.
“...Cavemen?”
Bad answer. Bad answer. Her fingers creaked against the wood, teeth starting to bare.
“Cavemen. Well, better than fucking fido, huh? Must think you’re so goddamn smart. Tricking me this entire time. How much did you engineer, huh, Nolan? Did you pick me out of the crowd and think ‘oh that one, that one will make another perfect little conqueror’. You probably thought I wouldn’t figure it out. Well, not to sound smart as a ‘caveman’ but I was on your scent right after the guardians. I knew something was wrong. Didn’t think you’d tell me though.”
“Debbie, I didn’t–”
“Save it. You knew exactly what you were doing. You’re just upset you got caught. What was the plan, huh? Ten more years and Mark’s ready to go sailing off with you to conquer another planet while you hand me off to the Viltrumites?” She scoffed, a scornful smile twisting her features.
“I wasn’t going to do that!”
“THEN WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO DO, NOLAN?!” She stood, knocking over the glass, spilling wine across the wood floor. For a few moments, she breathed deep, breaths puffing out of her in bursts. “Leave me in a nice, gilded cage? Play happy family when you come home from putting the universe under your thumb? You could give me everything in the world you’d think I want, but it wouldn’t compare to the one thing humans desire, above anything else.”
…Did he overlook this? Did he not see this when he’d been scoping out the planet? He couldn’t piss her off any more at this point, really. Might as well ask.
“...What is that?”
With a rueful smirk, she answered him.
“Freedom. Humans will, no matter what, prefer freedom. You might think of us as cavemen, but if you’d bothered to study our history, you’d notice a common denominator.”
Oh no. Oh no.
She hung her head for a moment, the curtain of black hair hiding her face. Then, she tilted her head back, with a long sigh. “You might think we’d eventually fall for security. Live happily as a colonized planet under your people. But you’ve seen our fiction. Our real life events. We’d never stop planning, Nolan. We’d never stop.”
“...They’d exterminate this planet, Debbie. If you resisted, that’s what they’d do. They’d raze earth to a husk so no one else could use it– that’s what they do.” Panic started to surge in his chest again, much faster this time.
“...And we’d go down fighting. You think Cecil isn’t cooking up some planet-wide ark somewhere in his labs?”
“I’d be more surprised by a list of what he isn’t researching, frankly…” He shook his wrists for a moment, and surprisingly, Debbie laughed. Not that normal, adorable chuckle, but a sardonic, salt-laden chuckle.
“Yeah. He’s had those for years.”
“...You knew? You knew he was planning against me, and you didn’t tell me–”
“He had multiple contingencies for all of the guardians, Nolan. He only told me because he knew I’d rather you be alive than dead. This is alive, by the way. If Cecil had his way, this thing…” She tapped the transmitter. “Would have been ten times more powerful. It would’ve killed you on the spot. And burst every window in a mile radius, but compared to the teleporter that’s pennies.”
“How long have you been hanging around Cecil?” He shoved himself up, despite his muscles and joints aching. Goddammit, what did that thing do to him?! But even then, his rage started to boil up again, teeth clenched. “What, got lonely when I was off saving the fucking world? Couldn’t help getting close to him when he was around so much, offering you condolences all the time?!”
“So jealous over a pet.” She sidestepped the spilled wine, moving just out of his reach. “Well, no, I’m not a pet. You’re about to learn just how much of a pet I’m not.”
“Dammit, Debbie, answer me!”
“Do I need to even dignify that with a response? If you think I cheated on you with Cecil, I obviously blew some of your brains out too. You ever hear how many times I’ve told him I hate him to his face? Or maybe you’re just angry that I caught you. Because he did give me all of this just to keep you locked down in case you came back. I just didn’t know I’d get to use it so fast.”
Suddenly, he could see Viltrum’s tall white buildings again. Bands of people dressed in white, wandering the streets of the planet. The shadows weighed down on him, the walls were starting to tilt over. He could feel hungry eyes roving over him, fists curling, muscles starting to flex in a warm up.
Intimacy on Viltrum was a weapon. It could be used as a cudgel or a scalpel. One could beat their way into continuing their genetic line, or slowly snare someone in, if they had more brain than brawn. Viltrumites weren’t just meatheads. Nowl-Ahn didn’t consider himself smart, though he’d more favored the former.
But Debbie had walked him right into her trap. If he’d been more attentive, if he’d noticed the signs sooner, if he’d kept her in the dark just a little bit more…
“Debbie…” He started, almost like a warning. Leave it. Drop it. Forget about it, right now–
But she didn’t. She grabbed his wrists by the cuffs, dragging him close enough that their noses almost touched. How had he gotten so weak?! Even his weight alone should have been enough to keep him where he sat!
Her cold, ink black eyes stared right into his own. Not a shred of warmth, not a semblance of love. Just anger. Cold, ice-frozen anger.
“Nothing you can say is gonna get you out of this. Beg all you want, but I’m not listening.” She shoved him back, landing him staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Did these cuffs also make him weak? The hell did Cecil put in them?
“You could hit me for hours, but you’re not going to make a mark Debbie. What do you think you’re even going to do, huh? Blast me with that frequency again? Keep talking shit?”
But instead of provoking her again, the anger simmered right below the surface, a cold gaze sweeping over him like an arctic wind. He could feel the chill in his bones, even with his resistance.
“A dog that bites is still a dog. I could get angry and hurt you, but what’s the point? You just think I’m a doddering caveman who can’t even get on your level. So I’m just gonna show you how much of a Viltrumite I can be.”
Before he could move, her nails dug into his suit. The material had been purposefully lightweight- he wasn’t a tank, just pure destruction. Anything heavily padded or armored just got in his way. And what was the point of blocking, anyways?
Admittedly though, Art might’ve had a point when he suggested at least some padding. Because now his bare stomach was showing, and ripping lower by the second. At least he hadn’t been squirrely about a cup. And yet, Debbie paid it not even a moment of heed, her sharp nails digging into his skin. No more than a momentary wince, and yet it seemed much more… real, now.
“Debbie– Hey, wait, what are you–”
She didn’t even bother to look up, an almost bored expression on her face as she ripped the suit down to the thighs, leaving everything between his legs exposed. He hadn’t bothered to feel shame before. What was the point? He’d gone undefeated in battle for so long that he couldn’t even fathom the shame of defeat. And yet, the tips of his ears started to burn, mouth going dry.
He didn’t think Debbie had read so deeply into what Viltrumites did. He hadn’t dared to let on about the more… violent aspects of their existence. For all she knew before a few days ago, they were a utopic, equal society. But he still could feel eyes roving over him on Viltrum. Smiles backed up by nothing but pride and sheer physical control.
No. No. She couldn’t know. He’d never told her. He didn’t even dare to try and make anything more than obscure references in his books–
Ah. Shit.
Debbie didn’t pretend to read everything he ever wrote. She actually read it. But she couldn’t think it was anything more than his imagination, right? Some long repressed fantasy, or some obscure event in his past?
Her own eyes, still so dark they almost looked solid black, skated over a body she’d known for twenty years. After such a long time together, she knew every point on him that made him react. She didn’t even hesitate to grab the meat of his thigh in her hand, squeezing around it so tight he almost felt the blood circulation cut off. It didn’t make him moan, like it might another time, but did make him grit his teeth in pain.
Dammit. He wanted so badly to tear this room apart. Break the bed, break the chair, break any other furniture down here, maybe the drywall–
He snapped out of his momentary burst of rage when her hand snapped around his cock, nails digging in and almost making him scream. His head tossed back as air whistled out of his teeth, ears throbbing again deep in his head. The muscles over his stomach flexed hard, aching with longing and strain. It’s his wife’s hand. How could he dare to be afraid of that? And yet, in each agonizing second that passed by, it just got worse and worse.
If she’d done something violent, at least he could tell himself she was just lashing out at him. She couldn’t control it, just like all the other animals on earth. But mixing the love she had for him with this practiced, calculated attack… He couldn’t just brush off her intelligence that quickly.
Twenty years had barely scratched the surface of his life.
And yet now it felt like an eternity he’d spent with her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Probably nothing as bad as what you want to do to me, but let’s face it, you’re not going to. I’d explain the handcuffs to you, but I don’t understand the science and I sure won’t try.” Her voice sounded almost calmer now, as if she was explaining the weather to Nolan. “I guess the best way I can put it is that you’re fixed to earth’s gravity right now. And despite the fact you’re a rather strong fully grown man, you’re tied down, if you didn’t notice the line coming off of those things.”
His eyes darted to the cuffs, noticing twin lines on either side, almost transparent, snaking over the sides of the bed and against the headboard. Fuck. Even when he tried to jerk his hands to snape the cords, they didn’t even budge. Didn’t even stretch.
“And what, you think giving me a pathetic handjob is going to get you what you want? I’m not going to turn down perfectly good sex, Debbie, and I really don’t see what this does for you. You think it’ll make me more docile or something when I finally get out of these?”
She looked up, a deeply bored tiredness settling on her features.
“Did I say it was just a pathetic handjob?” Her hands immediately flew off of him, held up in the air. The moment her touch left, he felt his body straining for more of it. Agonizing touch, and yet he almost needed it to keep going. To keep his heart beating. To remember this moment really existed, and wasn’t some weird coma dream she’d knocked him into with that stupid device. Instead, she knelt down for a moment, reaching for something he hadn’t seen before.
In one hand, a leather harness, held haphazardly and dangling. In the other… uh oh. He knew Debbie owned those sorts of things, but really, a dildo?
“Tada.” She said, without even a single bit of flair.
“...Debbie…” Despite himself, he could feel a small tinge of… no, he wasn’t going to admit it was fear. Hesitation. Yeah. Better.
“What, you don’t know what this is? Twenty years on earth and you still don’t know how to clear your search history. I’m almost disappointed.” She huffed, dropping both items right on the bed before him.
“The internet only got decent about ten years ago!” He argued back.
“And yet you can find all kinds of shit on your wife’s computer and somehow fail to clear the history every single time.”
Well. He couldn’t deny that. His ears started to turn more red, face following suit. A terrible, awful churn roiled through his stomach.
Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten twisted up. Living among humans, hell, living among any race besides Viltrumites tended to make them change in ways to adapt to the social structure of a planet. Some became more soft-hearted, as he’d come to learn. Some became social chameleons, who climbed up to high political positions and watched it all crumble down. But he’d seen others who came back empty-handed. Usually ended with a well-placed chop of the neck.
He’d seen worse examples made of those who showed deference to the people who lived on the planet the Viltrumites had claimed. Submission only could be answered with what they’d done many, many millennia ago to find the greatest of their number. It had started as a passing investigation. A concern about human culture, and how they viewed something like intercourse compared to Viltrumites. And yet it evolved much too quickly for him to control, like a wildfire ripping through a forest.
But Debbie had wanted him to be her husband. Wanted him to be the man who comes home after saving the day. The one who stopped her from being run over by that truck. So stereotypical, and yet… She’d loved him. He hadn’t known what love even was before he met her. If it made her feel safe, wasn’t that better? Better than delving into his newfound weakness?
He’d locked it away. He thought he locked it away.
She’d known the entire time.
His chest started to rise and fall rapidly. He’d be killed. He could never go back to Viltrum now. Not only did he fail to conquer earth, but he failed to even show dominance over his wife . A species besides Viltrum, who had him in cuffs and tied to a bed. It’d be the ultimate shame to anyone who dared even associate with him. What good was the child he had with her to prove Viltrumites could reproduce with other species? What good was twenty years of pretending, of staking his claim on earth to ward off the Coalition of Planets?
Debbie snapped him out of his spiraling, grabbing him by the chin and wrenching his head up.
“Don’t get distracted. You can have a crisis about me finding your porn later. Right now, I’m putting you in your place.” Those words coming out of anyone else’s mouth would’ve just made him scoff. But the raw determination and anger in her eyes almost made him freeze in place.
At least she had some mercy to still give him. Some form of love that showed through as her fingers went to pry him open. If she really hated him, she would’ve gone in dry. But two at once nearly made his whole body spasm. A breath rattled into his lungs, fingers clutching at the mattress.
Debbie only gave a small huff at the display. Without warning, her hands hooked into where she’d already tore away his suit, ripping it further upwards towards his chest. Her fingers pressed against his bare skin, taut under the material. With a little force, the entire top of his suit came undone, like a child ripping apart tissues. Art had made it easy to tear in case of emergencies, but to think Debbie would use it like that–
Her fingers hooked again on the fabric, ripping down to his hands. Oh, hell. She was trying to get him naked. Which, fair. She could probably do it even with the cuffs. Why hadn’t she just stripped him when he was knocked out?
Probably would’ve had enough trouble getting him on the bed, most likely. Her fingers curl up inside of him, searching and searing until–
His body shorted out, struck by lightning. If the cuffs weren’t so well-made, practically solid curves of metal covered by softer material, he would’ve ripped them in two. Debbie never did this before. Even though he had the context to know she knew , she’d kept it as quiet as a church mouse. But however she’d studied this, she’d studied too well. Every time her finger crooked against his prostate, it sent another shock through him, lightning zapping through his limbs.
Fuck. His hands flew up to his face. Even if he’d probably be drawn and quartered on Viltrum, he couldn’t let Debbie see him. Some remaining shred of his dignity clawed out of his chest. Making a shield. Trying to keep him from showing himself bare.
One of her hands shot out, dragging his wrist back down. Pinning it to the bed. “Don’t look away. You’re going to face what you did, one way or another.” With a grit of her teeth, her nails caught again on the fabric, ripping away the pieces of his suit that covered his hands. Every time she stripped away more of the red and white, she was ripping away more of his skin, more of his protective mask, his burial shroud.
What would happen when she saw him laid bare, with sinew and muscle exposed? When his heart started bleeding in front of her? Would she just scoff and move on? Something deep down wanted her to keep watching him.
Don’t look away. Don’t leave me here. Just keep me here, if you want. You can have anything you want. Even if it hurts.
He let out a long sigh, trying to let her fingers breach him deeper. Even if they found the spot they were aiming for, he’d need to be able to take her as deep as possible.
Her fingers kept pumping in and out, rough and without a single care paid to his condition. His chest still had large, purpling bruises across it, collarbone slightly red. When the mood struck her, she cupped one of his pecs in her hand, squeezing so tight it made his head spin. The pain of the bruises, coupled with the pinch around his nipple–
“Augh– Fuck, Debbie–”
“What? Too much for you?” She sneered at that, squeezing tighter just for a moment.
He shut his mouth, trying to turn his head away. Her hand snapped out, grabbing him by the jaw.
“I said don’t look away.” Punctuated with another rough thrust of her fingers, twisting to nail him again. “You’re going to look at me because you did this. You made me bitter. So deal with it.”
Shit. She was serious. A deep coil started to build behind his navel, in anticipation of whatever came next. Her fingers jerked out of him, the sudden emptiness making his legs shiver. Almost a loss, but his breath came much quicker, trying not to look at what she was preparing.
He already knew what it was, but this was the point of no return. Anyone on Viltrum could probably see the shame on his face. Would know what she did to him right on this bed. She was killing him. Killing the Nowl-Ahn who could break down solar systems in days. The one who had brutally murdered the Guardians of the Globe. The one who could stand shoulder to shoulder with other Viltrumites.
And the worst part was that he wanted her to kill him.
With every inch of that strap-on that entered his body, he wanted to scream. He almost did a few times. But she’d probably say something else that cut right to his core if he did. If he started crying, would she scream at him for acting like he was the victim? Would she just get more angry? Goddammit, his son was still half-dead, his own actions, and he had the audacity to start wanting to cry?
His hands flailed out for something to grab onto. If he tried to hold her now, she’d only knock him away. More punishment for everything he’d done to her. Done to himself. To their family. He managed to get his fingers around the pillow behind him, finally looking down at the state she’d put him in.
Her arms boxed in his hips, barely leaning over him. Still dressed in her pajamas, only on the top, with her pants stripped to hold the harness better. Despite her anger, despite the wine still drying on the floor, her brows knit in concentration. Lower lip bit between her teeth, trying not to move too quickly.
Even infuriated beyond belief, nearly livid, she still had some love left for him. If she really wanted to hurt him… He tried to brush the thought away. Processing everything below his waist. The stretch did feel a bit pleasurable, in the same way her fingers had once he’d gotten used to them.
Too pleasurable. He ached for her fingers around him again. She knew exactly how hard to do it, to make him feel near to bursting, tearing apart like a supermassive star. But she didn’t reach for his cock yet. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d just use him until she finally felt some sort of repentance. Some sort of retribution.
His thoughts fizzled out once she’d bottomed out, the cold kiss of an o-ring against his ass, nails digging into the backs of his thighs. Too much. Too big. How the hell did she pick these things? Did they even fit inside of her ? He couldn’t think about it right now. Still too much. Dammit. Even plastic molded like this could affect him so much.
She leaned forward, just a bit, the tip of the toy pressing against his prostate again. Fuck. A sharp jolt of pleasure lanced through him, leaving him breathless for a moment. His stomach jumped, muscles twitching. She really was going to kill him. When he dared to look up, her eyes had blown wide for a second, before narrowing in determination again. Without a word, she folded him like a lawn chair, pushing him back into the bed and putting his legs up to his ears. And before he could let out a protest, she pulled back, knees closed around his hips, before driving back into him. Almost the entire length.
The Viltrumites never had believed in any higher power as far as he’d known. Who needed to believe in Gods when they were the masters of the universe? But now he could slightly understand why humans referred to a God all the time. It only felt right to call it out, an inch from death, ego snapping apart at the seams. Flailing like a dying creature, he could only cry out a few words.
“F-Fuck, fuck, Debbie– God–” She didn’t pay him any heed, just continuing to pump her hips against his own, holding him still. Her face stayed hard, lips pressed together. She wouldn’t let him look away. He had to feel her eyes on him the entire time, skin bare and face rapidly turning more red. His neck muscles went tight, jaw clenched before falling open.
On his own, he could control just how much the pleasure affected him at once. He could stop and let himself calm down, let his muscles relax. But this had become a mad race to the top, an endless climb that made him ache. More pain than pleasure, despite all the care she took to make sure he didn’t actually hurt . But it still felt painful. It still made him want to beg her to stop. But he couldn’t beg. If he begged, would Debbie even look at him again?
Would Viltrumites fall from the sky to separate his head from his neck with a single chop?
Somewhere, deep down, he could feel the pressure building. His body reacting to stimulus it didn’t really know, but could probably understand enough to do what it was meant to. And yet no pleasure came from it, too wrapped up in his own mind. It didn’t feel right. His heart beat too fast. Everything felt too tense. Too much.
And all at once, the feeling came to a stop, and his body rebelled. Right on the precipice of the edge, he went toppling over, orgasm ripping through him more like a knife. No relief, no pleasure, just a sudden release and nothing. Her hips had stilled against him, fingers digging into his thighs.
In his chest, a bubble started to grow, pressure inside his sternum like his heart grew too big for it all of the sudden. Words wouldn’t come out of his throat, dry and stuck. A burning sensation behind his eyes. What the hell had happened? Why the hell was he… no, no, absolutely not, Viltrumites did not–
Debbie’s hand came up to his cheek, wiping away at the hot tears spilling down his face. He could’ve passed it off, when they burnt up with blood in the atmosphere, but now… no, now she could see it–
“...What the fuck did I do?” She reeled back, staring at her own hands. For a few moments, she went stock still, until her shoulders started to shake. They gripped right below her shoulders, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip. In a single motion, she pulled the strap-on out of him, shoving the harness off her hips and flinging it across the room.
Even in his confusion, he didn’t want to see her so… upset. Why was she so upset? Wasn’t this what he deserved? He beat their child within an inch of his life. He plotted for years to bring down earth and present it to the Viltrumites. He called her a pet . He threw his head back against the pillow, willing his tears to go away. He didn’t have the right to be upset. He couldn’t be upset. What the hell had he endured that could be worse–
“Nolan.” She said, more like an answer than a call. “Nolan, are you…?”
When he looked back at her, in the blaring light haloing around her head, he realized he’d curled up in himself. His hands had snapped to his chest, legs tight and tucked. Somehow, it felt better.
“Fuck. What the hell did I do to you?” She rubbed at her forehead, hand coming down to cover her eyes.
“You did what you were supposed to. You’re stronger than me, that means you get what you want.”
“I didn’t–” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want to hurt – No. No, I did want to hurt you. That didn’t make it right.” She turned away, dangling her legs off the end of the bed. After a moment, she reached under it, dragging out a blanket. Without another word, she shook it out, and tossed it over him. Even if it was quick, she still adjusted it to cover him. He hadn’t felt cold before. Maybe these devices did more than just take away his strength.
“Why not?” Why wouldn’t she use him with her power over him? It just simply worked that way, didn’t it?
“Because that’s not what you do to the man you love.” Debbie swayed for a moment, uneasily, before flopping back on the bed. “You don’t… tie him up and do that . I should’ve– I could’ve just turned you over to the GDA. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I wanted to hurt you, and that’s…”
“It’s what they do on Viltrum.” He muttered, staring at the cuffs on his wrists.
On the bed, Debbie’s eyes snapped wide open.
“...What?”
“It’s what they do on Viltrum.” He repeated. Did she really not hear him? “It doesn’t matter who you are, if someone’s above you in strength, they can really do whatever they want to you. It’s why everyone tries to get stronger.”
When he looked up again, he found her sitting up, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
“...Maybe it’s time I tell you about Viltrum. As I knew it.”