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authoressofdarkness · 4 years

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Beauty and the Beast (Chapter 3)

Notes: I'm not going to say too much because I don't want to spoil this chapter. Only thing is my fair warnings. It's DARK. Some heavy non/dub-con elements are the only real thing this chapter, though. So yeah, enjoy!

When he wakes up, he has no idea where he is.

His eyes shoot open, and he tries to sit up only to get a head rush, spots dancing over his vision. He tries to lift his hands to his face and realizes they’re bound again.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back down. “Take it easy, silly boy. You’re still regenerating all that blood.”

“Where am I?” The words are hard to get out, but at least he feels like he has control over his mouth again. And his limbs, even if they still feel heavy.

“In bed.” Something presses against his lips. A straw. Figuring there’s nothing he could probably give him right now to make this any worse, he parts his lips enough allow it and sucks gently. Still, he’s relieved to taste that it’s just water, and once he starts, he drains the whole glass.

A few blinks later, his vision starts to clear, and he realizes Stark is leaning over him, brows drawn together above brown eyes that almost look… is that concern?

Wait, brown eyes?

He frowns and blinks again several times. No. Definitely blue. And definitely no hint of anything besides cool amusement.

Stark leans over to set the glass down, and the slight shift in the bed under him makes him refocus quickly. It suddenly occurs to him what Stark had said. He’s in bed. With Stark. In Stark’s bed?

Stark cocks his head at him, a bemused smile toying at his lips. “You know, it’s no wonder you wore a mask. You have a horrible poker face.”

Peter closes his eyes again, trying to steady himself. “I wore a mask to hide my face from you.”

“Mm…” He feels the bed shift again, and then-

Shit. He opens his eyes. Stark has rolled on top of him, the length of his body only inches away from Peter’s, held up - and Peter subsequently caged in - by the arms on either side of his shoulders. He can feel the heat radiating off of the villain’s body, and he swallows thickly.

Stark grins, almost ferally. “And what a pretty face it is. And now it’s all mine.” He brushes a finger down his jawline again.

Goosebumps rise in the wake of his finger as it trails across his throat. Something in his stomach clenches. He should keep his mouth shut. It’s not as if he hadn’t realized that Stark could literally use him for whatever he wanted. And yet… “You think so?” he manages.

Stark quirks a brow down at him, grinning. “Oh, I know so. You are mine, Spiderling. You always were. And you always will be.”

The words feel like they sink from his ears down into his chest, hot and heavy with a lot of things that he didn’t want to examine right now. Not the implications of how long Stark had been hunting for him, nor that he’d had a plan for him all along. Not that he seemed like he really wasn’t going to kill him. Not that it seemed like killing him would be a mercy that he’d be wishing for soon. Not the barely hidden promise of all the things to come.

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on any of that. Nor does he listen to the voice inside his head warning him that he should stay quiet, that Stark is probing him for an invitation, trying to provoke him into saying something stupid, and that opening his mouth means taking the bait. He finds he just… doesn’t care.

“Prove it, Stark.”

The effect of his words is nearly instantaneous. He watches Stark’s eyes darken, even as his grin grows more feral, triumphant. “Oh, I will,” he purrs, and the pure darkness of the tone sends a warning tingle down his spine.

And then Stark’s mouth is on his, a hand moving up to his hair and threading into his curls, gripping tight enough to hurt and tugging his head back as Stark attacks his mouth, working it open. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, hot and wet, then presses inside, tasting and dominating-

Peter bites down, shoving his bound hands into Stark’s chest at the same time. The nanotech kept him from being able to use his strength to break the bonds, but it didn’t keep him from using his strength.

Stark jerks away, cursing. He puts a hand to his mouth, chuckling darkly and shaking his head when it comes away bloody. “Cute,” he tells him dryly. Then he takes his chin, gripping it hard enough to hurt. “I knew you’d be a saucy little minx in bed. But you better watch that attitude, Parker.” He presses his thumb into his mouth before Peter can respond, pulling it open forcefully and trapping his tongue under his thumb. “Just remember, anything you think you can get away with doing to me, I can give back tenfold.” He leans down, putting his lips by Peter’s ear. “And it doesn’t have to be to you.” Then he’s kissing him again, teeth tugging on his top lip dangerously before his tongue dips back into his mouth, this time taking his sweet time tasting every inch, even smoothing over Peter’s pinned tongue and his own finger.

By the time he pulls away, Peter is desperate to breathe, mouth full of saliva that’s not entirely his own. He can taste a hint of blood from where he bit Stark’s tongue, and even as he pants and has to swallow several times around the finger still in his mouth, he can’t help feeling slightly satisfied with himself. He made Stark bleed. Just a little, but it’s still more than he ever accomplished before.

Stark pulls back slowly, almost purring as his lips and tongue drag along his chin and jaw. Peter swallows hard again, trying to regulate his breathing and focus on anything besides the wet warmth spreading along the path of Stark’s mouth as he moves down his neck.

“Umph!” A strangled cry leaves his throat before he can stop it at the sudden, sharp pain in his neck. It feels like-

Stark growls, jaw tight as he worries his teeth against Peter’s skin. Peter can’t help the choked groan that leaves him at the feeling, nor the whimper that tears from his throat when he feels Stark’s hardness brush against his leg as he releases his bite and sits up. Fuck.

Stark just chuckles at the sound. “Oh, silly little spider. I may not actually be a vampire, but you should have known I bite back.” He releases his chin, wiping his thumb across Peter’s chest. “Now. Up.” He climbs off of him, grabbing him by one of his bound arms and tugging him to his feet.

Peter gets to his feet immediately when ordered, despite the head rush it gives him. He’s definitely still regenerating blood; he knows that feeling. It’s almost a relief to feel something he recognizes, especially after… that. Whatever just happened.

Stark is half-carrying, half-dragging him to their destination, but he can’t see well enough past the spots still dancing in his vision for him to be entirely certain of where they’re going until Stark is opening a door and then a second later he’s set on something cold and hard.

One of those metal tables. They’re back in the lab.

If only he had the mental or physical capabilities to do anything about it.

But he doesn’t. And all he can do is lay there as Stark straps him down to the cold metal, looking at him thoughtfully as he steps away.

The door opens again a moment later, but Peter can’t see Stark or the newcomer from his position. A moment later, he realizes he doesn’t need to.

“Tony, whatever this is, it better be good.”

A jolt runs up his spine. No. It can’t be.

Stark chuckles from somewhere behind him. “Oh, it is good. Unerringly, annoyingly good, in fact, Doctor. But also a scientific marvel, from what I’ve already seen. But don’t take my word for it. Take a look for yourself.”

“A marvel, huh?” that familiar voice muses, and then the owner steps into view, and Peter feels his Spider sense prickle in warning at the sight.

Dr. Banner. Bruce Banner. The Hulk. An Avenger. Or was he?

“Ah. Yeah, this one is a marvel,” Banner agrees, meeting Peter’s eyes and tilting his head. “How’d you end up here, Parker?”

“You know him?” Stark sounds almost pleasantly surprised.

“I didn’t know he was the Spider-Man. But we’ve met a few times. I suppose that explains a lot,” Banner muses. He walks up to Peter, tilting his head to the side and studying him. “What did you in, kid?” He sounds almost sympathetic, but he doesn’t show any signs of actually wanting to do anything about the state he’s currently in.

Peter raises his chin. “I traded myself in.”

Bruce draws his hand away, looking surprised. “Why would you do that?”

“Family,” Stark answers with some distaste, before Peter can say anything. “I had his aunt and uncle brought in. I let them go, since he turned himself in in their place.”

“You did not let Ben go,” Peter counters sharply, trying to send him a look but unable to crane his neck far enough to do it. It’s still stiff from both the IV and from Stark biting him right over the same spot a little while ago, and Stark is standing at just the right angle that he can’t turn and see him.

“I didn’t kill him. I told you, that in and of itself is a mercy,” Stark retorts.

“It’s hardly mercy when you’re continually using him against me,” Peter snaps before he can think better of it.

Suddenly Stark is there again, gripping his chin and jerking his head towards him with no regard for the pain in his neck. “It is mercy compared to what I would have done to anyone else. He is still a criminal. And yes, I am using him against you, and I will continue to until you learn your place.”

“Oh, learn my place, huh? Let me guess. Under you, right?”

Stark smirks, leaning close enough for their noses to brush. His grin only widens when Peter involuntarily jerks away from the touch. “Always, sweetheart. In every way.”

Banner only snorts, shooing Stark away. To Peter’s surprise, Stark chuckles darkly but complies, and he allows himself to release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Banner may not have been who he thought he was, but it’s obvious from the way he touches him and his general demeanor that while he has no intention of stopping Stark, he wasn’t going to hurt Peter, either. “Who knew scrawny superheroes were your type, Tony.”

“Only when they’re feisty and intelligent. Everyone else bores me,” Stark replies flippantly. He sounds so calm, as if he wasn’t just up in Peter’s face, threatening both him and the life of his uncle.

“Looks like you already had a time with him,” Banner notes, running a finger against the bruise on the side of Peter’s neck. He lets out a low hiss at the pain.

“Not quite. Just a short lesson in who’s really in charge. I knew you’d be coming shortly, there wasn’t time for anything else.” Stark shrugs, returning to Banner’s side for a moment. “You have everything you need?”

“Of course. I know where everything is if not.”

“Good. I should get going, then.” Stark looks down at him again, tilting his chin up with a finger. “I’m leaving you with Doctor Banner for now. You will behave and do whatever he tells you to.”

The “or else” goes unspoken, and for that, at least, Peter is grateful. He doesn’t need another reminder of all the hellish things Stark has in store, just waiting in the wings for him to make a mistake.

He just nods. Stark stares at him for a moment, as if debating whether or not to believe him, and then shrugs, letting him go. He disappears from sight, and a moment later, Peter hears the telltale sound of a door shutting behind him. Now he’s alone with the mutant doctor with uncertain intentions and suddenly completely ambiguous loyalties. Great.

If he senses his thoughts, Banner doesn’t comment on them. Instead, he flashes him a small smile and simply says, “Alright. Let’s get started.”

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