Reed snapped back to awareness. He was standing over the sink in the men's room, the last drops of the antidote he had prepared gurgling away down the plughole. He searched his mind for the formula, only to find it lost. Erased. Worse, he couldn't even try to form the thoughts to cure it. This was the sort of rewrite only a telepath could accomplish.
"Damn you, Frost." He muttered. She had captured his mind. Paralysed him. Walked him into here and made him pour away the only chance he had of saving Sue, and Rogue, and Harley. Now he was free, he charged for the door and found himself back in the club. It was empty. Empty except...
Reed didn't speak. Couldn't speak, perhaps. He just stood there, stiff, pale, staring - as if even his prodigious brain was still struggling to catch up to the scene in front of him. The stage. The lights. The heat. His wife - or some bimbofied parody of her - was bound to a chair, legs spread, lips swollen, body visibly changed from the virus coursing through her.
Sue opened her eyes. She didn't flinch, or cry. She just looked at him. Not pleading. Not ashamed.
Waiting.
Emma entered the room, her heels clicking against the sticky floor. She had changed into some of the club's stripper gear, obscene even for the Vixen's Den. Her body was flawless, a mixture of mutant physiology, high-end plastic surgery and the finest posture lessons money can buy. She looked calm. In charge. Like this was the outcome she'd expected from the start.
"You seem disappointed," she said.
Reed swallowed. "You implied you were going to save her."
Emma smiled faintly. "I did. I saved her from the tedium of being her."
Reed took a step forward, but hesitated. His wife looked so... different. Not just her body. Her attitude. Her presence. There was something vacant in her, something wanton. Like she'd been opened up and emptied out, then painted over in sex and heat.
Reed turned to her fully now. Anger twitching behind his eyes. "I trusted you. Despite myself, Emma."
Emma stepped in close - too close - her lips nearly brushing his. "And you were right to. I'm the White Queen, darling, you trust that I'll give you what you need, not what you ask for."
Behind them, Sue let out a slow, soft breath. Her thighs pressed tighter together. Reed froze. Emma watched him.
"You want to punish me?" Emma whispered. "Go ahead." She reached down, took his hand, and pressed it to her waist, "or maybe," she said, voice dropping lower, "you want to fuck the woman who finally taught your wife how to beg."
Reed's jaw clenched. His hand flexed against Emma's waist.
"Is this a game to you?" he hissed. Emma didn't flinch. Her lips curled, just slightly.
"No, Reed. It's an education."
Reed used his powers to bulk up his arm, shoving Emma back against the pole at the centre of the stage. Her spine hit metal with a dull thunk. His body pressed up against hers, caging her in. He was taller, broader, physically stronger than her. His hands were rough with tension, mouth tight with fury.
"You think you understand anything about us?" he growled. "About her?" Emma laughed softly, and it was the most condescending sound he'd ever heard.
"Angry men are so easy," she whispered. "All that indignation. All that righteousness. And all I have to do-" She rolled her hips against him, just once, and there it was. The heat. The twitch. His cock, thick and straining against his outfit.
Her smile sharpened.
"-is make you hard."
Reed froze. She felt his breath hitch. His cock pressed against her thigh - heavy, unmistakable, already leaking. Emma tilted her head, brushing her mouth against the edge of his jaw.
"You're not angry because I broke her," she whispered. "You're angry because you're trying to pretend you're better than this."
He growled - low and guttural - and pinned her wrists above her head.
"Don't flatter yourself," he spat. "You aren't half the woman Sue is."
"Your cock doesn't seem to agree at all." Emma grinned.
Behind them, Sue whimpered. Her thighs rubbed together in the chair, wrists twitching in their restraints. She wasn't looking away. She was watching. All this time she had been slowly creeping around Reed's mind, switching off his inhibitions, eroding his emotional control, and now - with Reed's hands on her, his face close, their bodies intertwined, she was ready to strike.
Emma arched her back against Reed's chest, voice low and perfect. "Why don't you show us who's boss? Fuck me," she whispered. "And make her watch."
Reed didn't say another word. He grabbed Emma by the throat - not choking, but owning - and spun her around against the pole. Her arms remained pinned above her, her spiked heels braced wide on the stage. She let out a delighted gasp as he shoved her stupid little skirt up with one rough motion. No panties. Of course not, he thought, not for this kind of slut.
He yanked his cock out and pressed it against her in a quick, desperate motion. Thick, hot, twitching with need - it took one single, furious thrust for him to find himself inside her.
Emma moaned. Loud. Rich. Triumphant.
"FINALLY," she gasped. She threw her head back, eyes fluttering, mouth parted in perfect pleasure. The stretch, the heat, the fury in his grip - it was exactly what she wanted. Not because she cared about Reed. But because she'd won a victory over Sue. Her precious husband, buried deep inside the White Queen's horny little cunt. They could fix Sue's mind, perhaps, they could come to terms with her virus-influenced infidelity, absolutely - but now that Reed had forced himself balls deep into Emma, there was no erasing that. It would always be true: there was no un-fucking her.
Emma revelled in it. She was being railed by Mister Fantastic while his perfect little wife watched from a chair, tied up, leaking onto the vinyl like a whore. Sue let out a ragged sob. Not of sadness, but of arousal. Her thighs clenched. Her body jerked in the restraints. She wanted to look away - god, she tried - but her senses were glued to them. To Reed slamming into Emma, to the way her rival's perfect body bent and bounced under him, to the filthy wet sounds of skin slapping on skin. To the way Emma smiled at her through it all.
"You watching, sweetheart?" Emma panted, looking back over her shoulder, voice ragged but giddy. "He's so much better when he's angry. You should've let him fuck someone else years ago." Reed growled - and drove in deeper. He wasn't talking. He wasn't thinking. He was fucking. Fast. Brutal. Unrelenting. His fingers dug into Emma's hips hard enough to bruise. Her heels scraped the floor as she took every thrust, gasping, grinning, getting louder.
Sue groaned again. She hated that she was grinding against the chair, trying to relieve the ache in her soaked pussy. Her tits bounced with every twitch. She couldn't stop moaning. Couldn't stop imagining Reed's cock inside her - not with love, not with tenderness - but with that same disgusted need he was taking out on Emma.
Emma screamed. Her orgasm tore through her, her whole body arching, cunt clenching tight around Reed's fat cock. He was using his powers subtly, increasing the size of it, stretching her slowly but deliberately as he filled every part of her.
"Oh god..." Emma whimpered as her legs trembled. She knew it was going to feel good, but she had no idea it'd be like that. She couldn't take much more, and she knew that in his current state he might just keep going forever. But Emma had made hundreds of men cum, and Reed might have been the most intelligent men on the planet, but he was still just a man. She knew what to say. "Reed, don't... don't cum in me... I'm not using protection... this is so wrong..."
And that? That pushed Reed over the edge.
