Chapter Text
The heat is stifling. Turning back to your side, you feel the slide of the sheets against your skin damp with sweat. The humidity is unbearable, dew point reported at near tropical levels. Why you had been sent to this satellite post in the middle of one of the most humid areas of the country, you wish you knew.
Sleep eludes you, skin overheating even with the least amount of coverage possible, nearly nude with how thin the fabric of your nightwear is. The minimal layering does little to afford any relief, even with the ceiling fan spinning at the highest setting and the window cracked. The air is heavy to the point of saturation, not so much circulated as stirred.
You flip to your back, staring up at the ceiling above as your mind wanders. Six months. Half of a year has passed here at the remote laboratory where you have been re-stationed. Transferred. You can still hear the harsh tone he had used, the memory seared into your brain. Somehow, this place is connected to the work of the care center. Something to do with Victor’s previous career, before Rhodes Hill, although you still don’t understand the association. You had made no effort to listen when he had offered a vague explanation at the time, committed to your guise of cold indifference.
Thinking about him now turns your stomach. The pain of heartbreak has dulled some, but the wound remains, even scarred over. Shoving your feelings down deeply feels necessary; a defense to protect and preserve what little positivity you have managed to retain. You hate the part of yourself that still misses him. His absence in your life is a void you seem unable to fill, not for lack of trying.
You’ve lost track of how many nights have been like this. Huffing, you shove the sheets down the bed and slip free. If you can’t manage to rest, you might as well work.
Knowing you’ll be the only one awake at this hour, you don’t bother with the slacks and blouse slung over your chair, nor the heels placed neatly beside. You opt instead for a thin cardigan thrown over your short nightgown to keep the chill off your arms. While the staff quarters here might be boiling, cooking you alive in your own sweat, the labs are blessedly cool: a complicated temperature management system strictly regulates the environmental conditions for optimal sample storage and is the reason your brain isn’t fried every day. You won’t linger, just check to see if the cells you transferred are growing well and then return to bed and, hopefully, sleep.
Your feet carry you the familiar route down several corridors and interconnecting hallways to the dedicated lab spaces. Rounding the last corner at the end of the hall, you push into the room -- and stop short. A tall figure stands at your desk rifling through your notes, features masked by the night. Fear catches at your throat, pulse jumping as you swallow thickly.
Unable to determine exactly what you are looking at in the dull glow of the surrounding equipment, you can tell it’s big: towering above the lab benches, it nearly brushes the ceiling. Humanoid in shape, the uncanny nature of it sets you on edge, as if it was once human but was now just playing the part of one, clearly out of place in this setting. Wrong. The broad frame hints at the presence of strength, muscles in its arm flexing as it sorts through your paperwork, carelessly shuffling the documents out of order.
Whatever it is, you don’t wish to draw its attention. Staggering back a step, you lift your head -- only to meet the gaze of the thing now turned to face you. Frozen in place, you feel your muscles tighten to keep you as still as possible. Maybe it can’t see you if you don’t move?
Silence. A few seconds filled with the soft drip of one of the sink faucets further down.
Then, it speaks. “Ah, wonderful. You’re here, now we can begin.” Your body gives an involuntary jerk, stepping back to reclaim distance. Right, so applying the t-rex theory in this situation was as stupid as you originally thought. Judging the distance between yourself and the door, you consider that you might be able to make it back to your room if you run, but seeing the length of its legs you know there’s no way it won’t quickly overtake you even with the significant space between you now. It keeps speaking, not noticing the tension in your limbs, or not caring; you’re unsure. “I had thought you were asleep and was prepared to wait until a more appropriate hour to disturb you.” Heavy footsteps carry it forward, unhurried, as it inches closer. Feeling a stab of terror, you try to backtrack, trading step for step as the creature advances. “There is so much to inform you of. I fear I’ve spent more time away than originally planned, but that can’t be helped now...” its voice trails off as it appraises you, finally noting your distress. Cocking its head, it seems to be waiting for your response.
Recognition begins to bleed in through the fear, a spark of warmth mixing into the chill of your panic. You know that voice, the tone and cadence -- it is unmistakable, unchanged even now. One remaining consistency, a data point unaltered by his current condition. You stare back at the man in front of you with a mixture of confusion, shock, and strangely, relief.
“Victor? Is that... you?” Well, however much of the man remains in this version of himself, you suppose. Same gargantuan height, same broad build, same features. Only now they are marked by scaled skin that holds that sickly grey tint. A long scar appears to neatly divide him in half, running from his bottom lip down his sternum and showing neatly in between the gap in his shirt, like the seam on a stuffed toy. The new outfit is definitely an... interesting choice. All leather -- boots, trousers, top... coat? You squint your eyes, trying to confirm whether the pattern is truly snake skin or just a trick of the light. Further inspection gives you pause at a flash of metal in his mouth; is that... gold?
He regards you with eyes concealed by a metal visor placed over the top half of his face, strange lenses whirring as they focus on your form. You feel a distinct discomfort as you stare back at that red light, like you’re being dissected.
“Hmm. Yes, my apologies. I forgot we haven’t seen each other since the full transformation. Forgive me,” he flourishes his hand, gesturing to himself “Victor Gideon. Still me, of course.”
Upon confirmation of his identity, you feel anger flare in your chest, the flame sparking easily. Before the thought is fully formed, your mouth drops open in a rant, unable to contain the grief you feel, forged in the half year he’d been missing.
“Victor! What the fuck! Where have you been?” You can feel your heart rate spiking, suddenly furious with the man standing just across the room. “I haven’t seen you in 6 months -- no calls, no check-ins, no letting me know you’re okay or even if you’re alive.” You can feel yourself starting to hyperventilate. A disorienting dizziness comes; you feel as if a heavy weight has been placed on your chest. “You send me away, abandon me in this terrible place in the middle of nowhere, completely disappear, a-and then just, what, waltz back in here, ready to catch up? Are you actually insane?” Your chest is heaving, anger tinged with sorrow as your eyes brim with tears. You lean hard against the nearest bench, letting it take on your weight, knuckles pale with the tightness of your grip.
At least he has the decency now to look guilty as he attempts to explain himself. “Ah -- as I said, it wasn’t exactly my intention to be away for so long. There was some trouble with the plan -- the damn DSO, Zeno, that idiot --” he cuts himself off. “What matters is that I’m back now. And we have so much to do.” He smiles, broad and shining as the newly arranged teeth glint in the dim light. Already the differences are stark: your Victor was never quick to joy, respectably reserved to a fault. Still in the midst of processing the situation, you aren’t sure whether you prefer this new version’s more emotive demeanor.
You just stand there, staring at him, trying to remember everything he has said as you slowly come down. Deep breath in -- one, two, three -- and out. Your hands feel sore as you relax your grip, letting them fall to your sides. Uninvited, curiosity bubbles up to join the mix of emotions roiling in your head. “And, u-uh, hmm,” a sniff, as you clear your throat, “What is... all this about?”, you motion generally to his form. “You.. y-you said the full transformation?” The slight catch in your voice gives you away as you hurry to wipe the tears that have slipped free, not wishing to see his pity. Five minutes into your reunion and you feel exhausted, sure that sleep would come now if only you were back in your bed.
That mechanical gaze passes over you and you swear you can feel the spark in his eyes ignited by your inquiry. It seems his flair for dramatics had not died with his previous self. “Ah, yes.” He turns, hands clasped behind his back. “Do you believe in human evolution?”
Anger shifts to annoyance marked clearly by the tired expression you’re sure is plain on your face. He cannot be serious. I don’t have the patience for this. Digging your fingers into your temples, you’re convinced that he must’ve suffered a serious head injury and maybe some amnesia as well in his time away, because that’s the only explanation you can think of for why the man who you spent a year working alongside on extremely rigorous and technical research would ask you something so unbelievably stupid.
Unamused, you arch a brow. “Victor, you did not just seriously ask me that.”
He grins, enjoying the usual banter you’ve fallen back into, despite the challenging start. He should’ve better prepared himself for your reaction, knowing you had left off on rather... upsetting terms.
“My apologies. A clarification: Do you believe in humans' ability for a higher achievement of evolution, something beyond the pedestrian of Darwin’s finches? Something more.”
You blink at him, crossing your arms tightly against your chest, just below your breasts. Giving him a once-over, your reply is petulant as it spills from your lips “I guess it depends... is this,” you motion to him, “the ‘something more’ that you’re referring to?”
You force your spine straight at his approach, his steps slow and measured, like a large cat stalking its prey. Goosebumps appear, raising the skin on your arms as apprehension creeps in.
His laugh rings out in a short, harsh breath, “You know, for someone who clearly missed me,” voice pitched low, he continues toward you, boots echoing off the tile with his heavy, steady stride, “you are being a remarkable brat”, sharp accent on the t ringing out into the room.
The atmosphere shifts. You feel the change, the way the air develops a charge to it. Fear pricks your skin once more: prey, being cornered. His gaze drags across your form appreciatively, and you remember your state of dress as you feel a sudden chill.
“Tell me, sweet thing”, he creeps closer. “Have you missed me?”
Fear reignited, you turn and bolt, narrowly missing his massive hand as it snatches for you, earning only your cardigan as you twist to allow it to be ripped free of your shoulders. Maneuvering through the lab, you weave around various instruments, sending a stool skittering back in an attempt to block his path. You can hear his heavy footfalls slamming behind you, too close already, his delighted laughter ringing in your ears sounding almost deranged.
You don’t know why you had started fleeing, just that your brain’s base instinct was telling you to fucking move when Victor had approached. Despite your fear you feel a swooping in your stomach, that tell-tale blossoming of heat whenever he is near. He’s clearly enjoying the thrill of the chase, and you can’t say you mind much being pursued. Each ragged breath pulled into your lungs has your head swimming, blood pumping, your body buzzing with electricity.
Trying to throw him off, you run into a room that adjoins another. You know you have to find a place to successfully hide if you are to have any chance of success winning this unexpected game you have started. Thinking quickly, hearing his approach not far off -- calls of your name delivered in a saccharine coo -- you hide under a bench that should conceal you from sight, shadows falling in such a way to mask your presence. Grabbing a pen from the benchtop, you fling it as far as you can through the adjoining doorway, the clatter meant to trick him into thinking you had fled further into the laboratory.
Your hands press to your lips to minimize the sound of your shallow breathing, the descending quiet eerie. You count the seconds in your head, the space between breaths -- one, two, three, four, fiv--
Your shriek breaks the silence of the night as you’re yanked out from under the bench, one of Victor’s huge hands wrapped snuggly around your ankle, thick fingers dimpling the flesh of your calf. You’re quickly flipped to your back, slamming against the chilled tiles, mouth falling open in indignant shock. One hand slaps across your mouth, the other sliding up your body to clamp around your throat, simply resting there, securing you in place.
“Ohhh you little minx” he growls out, smirking down at you and looking as smug as he ever did. If there is one thing you remember about Victor Gideon, it is his arrogance. He takes his hand from your lips in order to tug his visor free, letting it fall to the floor beside you. Golden, serpentine eyes meet your own; almost the same, though now the amber pupils stare out from deep pools of black, sclera clearly having been victim of the referenced transformation. “Thought you were clever, did you?” He licks his lips, and you notice his tongue has been changed as well: bifurcated now, a neat split down the middle, just like a snake’s. “That was a nice trick, but not good enough.”
His mouth opens in a surprised grunt as you manage to kick him hard in the gut, not enough force to hurt but enough that he loosens his grip, allowing you to wriggle free. You jump to your feet ready to flee, elated. You make it about three steps before a hand grabs the scruff of your neck and pulls.
“Too slow!”, he hisses in your ear, hand placed firmly back at your throat. He squeezes once; a warning. “Now, are you going to behave? Or do I need to restrain you further?” he uses his other hand to pull your arms behind you and lock you in place against him. His grip around your throat gets tighter as you wiggle, darkness just barely creeping into your vision. You can’t help yourself, moaning shamelessly at the feeling, Victor tall and firm against your back.
He lets slip a delicious groan at your outburst, pulling you tighter against him. “You always manage to surprise me. You like it when I choke you, hm? Want me to rough you up? Enjoyed the chase, did you?” His words make the heat in between your thighs pulse, sure you are absolutely soaked by this point. You remember the thin nightgown you’re wearing as the hand on your throat slides down to squeeze one of your breasts, pinching the nipple already hardened from the cold and adrenaline. “Who were you wearing this for? For me?” He plays with your neckline, suddenly plunging it down to bare both breasts to the chill of the room. “Do you make yourself so pretty every night, hoping I’ll return?”
You sigh sweetly and loll your head against his chest, mewling as he moves his other hand up so he can play with both breasts, tugging your nipples into stiff peaks and rolling them between thick fingers.
“D-Dr. Gideon!” You’re panting now, moaning freely and delirious with want. You feel him shudder and moan in response to your use of his title in this context. “Oh pet, I have missed you.”
Shoving you forward, he balances you against the benchtop, kicking apart your feet until your legs are spread obscenely. He moans brokenly as he finally touches you, finding your cunt bare and absolutely dripping. Wastes no time shoving a thick finger in, adding another in quick succession, fucking you with his hand. “Filthy girl, walking around in this thin slip of a nightgown with no panties? You were begging to be ruined.”
You’re moaning openly now, sinful sounds echoing into the night-darkened room. You claw behind you and feel his cock stiff in his pants, stroking your palm against it. He groans raggedly as he grinds against you, suddenly hiking your leg up to rest on the top of the bench spreading you further. He rucks up the skirt of your nightdress, frees his cock and plunges into you, hitting your cervix sharply. “Oh you wicked thing. Temptress. Fuck, this tight little cunt. I will never get tired of this”. An obscene symphony echoes down the hall as you are ravaged, grasping the bench in an attempt to stabilize yourself for the ride, breasts pressed against the cold countertop.
“V-victor, oh Victor, please don’t stop”, you’re breathless at the force he’s fucking you with, sighing at the filthy sounds your pussy makes as he destroys you. All you can do is deliriously chant his name alongside pleas of harder, please harder and missed you missedyoumissedyou.
“Ah -- mine” he growls possessively as he thrusts harder, hips smacking against your ass. “Say it.”
“Yours, yours, only yours Victor, always yours” you keen, hips pushing back against his desperately. You can feel the buildup in your gut, his cock reaching deep inside and hitting you just right on every forward thrust. “Aahh, close Victor I’m so close”
Cracked lips meet your neck, traveling up to close around your ear as those newly ragged teeth grab and pull slightly at the lobe. You gasp as he somehow picks up even more speed, rocking against you. His fingers find your clit, circling the bud in quick strokes “Yessssss, that’s it dove, come on my cock. I want you soaking me, absolutely filthy little thing you are. Always cry so pretty for me,” He’s losing himself in the feel of you, babbling on. “I’m going to fill this pretty little cunt, stuff you up until you’re dripping my seed.”
Your answering moan is debauched, his words pulling a confession from your lips “Yes please Victor, please -- come inside, fill me up, use me -- oh fuck” coil snapping, your orgasm crashes through you as you gush around his cock.
“Fuck, squeezing me so tight I can barely move sweetheart -- ohh yes, you like that?” His breathing is unsteady, rapid now as he grows closer to release, “Want me to breed your cunt until you’re swollen with my offspring?” he hisses as his hips stutter and he comes, filling you so much that it flows out and drips down your thighs, pussy stuffed full. “Take it all, sweetheart.”
Both of you fully sated, he reluctantly pulls free of your warmth, cock smearing against your thigh. You feel pleasantly sore and thoroughly used, his cum leaking out of you.
Gently lowering you back down to the floor, he smooths out your nightgown, the fabric creased from being scrunched at your waist. He clears his throat. “Well, that is not the catching up that I had planned”, he gives you a surprisingly warm smile, your own expression fond as you stare back at him. “We should clean up and then I will inform you of everything. There have been some interesting developments since we last saw each other.”