Fit for Purpose

Glory didn't often work with Silver.

Captain Silver was a native to the planet of Earth, but for all this, he was an honourable sort. Very strong, by earthling standards, even amongst the mutated humans of which he was among the ranks, and strong enough to go toe to toe with Glory or any of his brothers-in-arms, when the time came that they should battle together.

Glory liked him, after a fashion.

Silver was honourable, strong, a fine warrior, and he was a scrupulous and ethical man — but there was such a thing, Glory had come to find in his time as a member of Earth's protectorate, as too many scruples, and too much focus on them.

The incident had occurred over the city of Seattle, too complex in its motivations to be brushed off as mere terrorism: The Poison, an enemy combatant from a planet some ways off, had corrupted the tall rod of one of the city's buildings into a radio tower of sorts, the better to begin corrupting all nearby devices to his purposes.

The battle itself had not been one for the ages — Silver and Glory had overcome the few hundred men who had been employed as security and insurance for the Poison's scheme with ease, and the Poison himself Glory had apprehended, binding him in the magical ropes he had trained with ever since he was but a boy on Findel, so many lightyears away from this strange and enticing planet, and they were waiting for the authorities to bring a transport along, that they might bring their captives to be subjected to what amounted to this planet's law and order.

Silver was as yet distracted.

Glory found him still upon wide platform on the top of the building, where a helipad was painted, and more than that, there were the Poison's frequency generators still to be disassembled, but Captain Silver was not waving down aircraft, and nor had he begun this disassembly.

The Poison's second of the day, a younger mutant by the name of Demonic Dominic — Glory found this to be a very humorous name, and had made note of it in news and radio transmissions, although he had never faced the man before today — was stepping about Silver. There was something playful in his movements, and although Silver appeared to be angry and impatient, his sun-kissed cheeks had turned from their ordinary pale brown to a warmer, redder colour; his arms were crossed very tightly over his chest, and he was scowling deeply.

The young demon was dancing upon his feet, and Glory came up behind him, frowning with curiosity as he looked between them.

"Oh, Captain, are you frightened to touch me?" asked Dominic in a warm purr — he was not yet thirty, and Glory was distantly aware that he was the son of some prominent mutated Earthling, one who headed an organisation that connected non-super mutants with various resources and services. His son, of course, was more interested in drumming up the prejudice his father attempted to combat than in aiding his sire in his work. "So frightened after our last time together, hm? That perhaps my lips will brush yours, that perhaps once again, you will find yourself driven so mad with desire that you — "

"Don't touch me, Dominic," growled the captain, his cheeks burning a brighter, blushing red. "Stand still, and let me cuff you."

"You want to cuff me?" asked Dominic sweetly. He was a curious creature, slim and wiry, and although he and Captain Silver had little difference in their heights, it would be visible to even an amateur that Silver could match his strength with no effort whatsoever.

Glory knew of his powers — Dominic was a shapeshifter, his flesh, his muscles, even his bones bending one way and the next whenever he pleased to bend them so, and Glory had heard of his reputation from other heroes upon Earth. He proved very difficult to meaningfully imprison — even Glory's brother, Justice, had bound him in the rope of their people, and Dominic had shrunk to nothing until they didn't touch him, and fled with ease.

More than that, he was a provocateur, and a handsome one: his flesh was a pale and unnatural white, more akin to processed marble than to skin, even with the natural colouring of marble itself moving over the tendons and lines of Dominic's body. Punching him could be like marble, and this was the skin-armour he often favoured in battle, but he went beyond shapeshifting.

Glory could smell upon the air the delicate pheromone that the young man exuded, and he could smell, too, Silver's reluctant interest in the desire his opponent produced in him, though Silver was stifling his arousal.

He seemed ashamed of it, curiously.

Silver was a fine warrior on the field of battle, but he drank no ales, and from what Glory had come to understand, he fucked almost exclusively in private bedchambers with polite women. To be shy was one thing, but Silver was near repressed.

"Should I call your father?" asked Captain Silver, arching his eyebrows.

"Do you want to call my father?" replied Dominic immediately, undeterred, and Glory almost chuckled at the disappointment showing in Silver's face, that his gambit had struck no effect whatsoever. "Would that please you, Captain? Such a big, strong man as yourself, with those handsome muscles, those marvellous pectorals — are you going to put me on my knees, truss me up in steel rope and handcuffs? Will it make your cock hard, when you have me bound, and my father — "

Glory's hand landed hard against Dominic's arse. It made a wonderful sound, unexpected as the blow fell, a loud clap, and Dominic gasped in surprise, whirling to look at Glory. Glory was unaffected by the pheromones he exuded, for they were nothing in comparison to those the Findelians had as a matter of course.

Dominic looked Glory up and down, looking torn between excited at a new opponent and disappointed at being so interrupted. "Who might you be?" he asked. "A Findelian warrior — which one are you, Happy, Dopey, Sneezy, or — ungh — "

In one hand, Glory gripped very tightly at Dominic's thick, blond cloud of handsome hair, and he ground the heel of his other hand against Dominic's fat little cock, little more than a morsel, through the dark gold of his suit. He whimpered as Glory ground the heel of his hand down against it, sliding two fingers up against the opening of Dominic's cunt through his suit.

Beside him, Silver looked beyond scandalised.

"You are going to be quiet," said Glory in a low, cold voice, and almost laughed at the way the young villain's pupils dilated at the wave of Glory's pheromones washing over him, his thighs spreading slightly apart, his lips parting. "You are going to shut up, child, and you are going to remain shut up until you are in a holding cell alongside your day's companions. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Dominic breathlessly.

"Sir Glory," hissed Captain Silver. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"Apprehending him," said Glory, hauling the young man by his hair and chuckling at the way he stumbled, bent half over as they went toward the stairs, Silver in pursuit. "Were you going to let him lead that dance all day?"

"He's — He's hard to deal with," muttered Silver. "Not everyone is comfortable playing a BDSM game with every other supervillain he meets."

"Lucky for you that the two of us are allied this day, then," said Glory cheerfully, and laughed a booming laugh as they descended to the levels below.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Glory sat back in a chair with his knees spread apart, Captain Silver sitting at the other side of the table from him. Glory didn't care for all the paperwork and bureaucracy this superhero business came in, but he was frequently informed it was a vital part of his service to the protectorate, and Silver particularly was very focused on its necessity.

He was less comfortable than Glory ordinarily expected of him, though. Where Glory comfortably sat back in his seat, Silver was sitting up very straight, his jaw set, and he was looking across the room.

Through the observation window, into the room below, they could see the different henchmen being processed by Seattle's law enforcement, taking their fingerprints, noting statements from them, dispatching them into various holding cells.

"Uh, sir," said one of the enforcers, hovering in front of him and Silver. "Sir Glory?"

"You're ready for us already?" asked Glory, raising an eyebrow. "Your commander isn't still processing the Poison?"

"Oh, uh, no, we're not ready for your statements yet, Sir Glory, no. I just wanted to check, um, if you want us to take... him?"

The enforcer glanced down at Dominic almost as if he was frightened to look at him for too long, and Glory followed his gaze. Dominic was on the floor with his arms bound behind his back and looped against his ankles, his knees slightly spread apart beneath him.

His cheek was rested against Glory's thigh, and Glory had been idly winding his hair around his fingers, gripping and tugging at it, watching the way it made him relax whenever he pulled sufficiently hard.

"You finished processing all the henchmen yet?" asked Glory, nodding down to the other room. "You nearly done?"

"Er, well, no, but we can — "

"I'll keep him here 'til you're done with them."

The enforcer looked from Glory to Captain Silver, as though he were hoping Silver would overrule him, but Silver was just as uncomfortable as the enforcer was.

"On his... knees, sir?" asked the enforcer.

"He's being quiet, and he's staying still," said Glory. "As soon as I hand him over to you, he'll stop being so well-behaved."

The enforcer stepped away from them, and Captain Silver looked down at Dominic. He was starting to get impatient, Glory could see, but that wasn't because Glory's chemical profile was wearing off on him. He had a strong sense of self, of his own desires, and honestly, Glory and the other Findelians didn't use their pheromones to control people or to provoke them, like Dominic used his.

Their purpose was to heighten feeling.

"You jealous?" asked Dominic, addressing Captain Silver instead of Glory. "Do you wish you could have me bound as he has bound me? Does the thought make your skin hot under that sui — "

Dominic choked as Glory slid two fingers into his mouth, pressing down hard on his tongue, hard enough that he couldn't talk any longer.

"Glory," said Silver lowly.

"What?" he retorted. "He's quiet, isn't he? You want to listen to him keep provoking you like that? You fuck him before?"

"No," muttered Silver, running his hand through his hair. "He kissed me, that's all, until I pinned him down and — Stopped him. Doesn't his... effect have a hold on you?"

"No," said Glory, sliding his fingers further forward and feeling Dominic's throat clench around them. Dominic's eyes were watering, and he made an eager, needy sound at the base of his throat, but he didn't struggle or attempt to pull away. When Glory crooked his fingers slightly, widening them to see how much give there was in Dominic's elastic throat, he moaned softly. "He's the son of President Knight, isn't he? Is he like him?"

"Nothing like him," said Captain Silver. "President Knight is cool, calm, collected. Reasonable. He's a keen philosopher and a political activist, lobbies particularly for rights and accommodations — not just for mutated people, for everybody. Dominic here, on the other hand, is a dropout who couldn't finish his engineering degree, and a slut."

Dominic shifted on the floor, and Glory scowled, pressing down harder with his fingers: at the same time, he rested the heavy weight of his boot between the young man's legs, and Dominic choked out a moan.

"You don't exactly seem to be discouraging him," muttered Silver.

"Perhaps he wasn't meant for engineering," said Glory in mild tones. "If he's meant to be a slut by occupation, who are we to deny his nature?" He pressed harder, and Dominic gasped around his fingers, grinding up against Glory's boot. Glory hadn't pumped out another dose in a little while, because he hadn't really needed it, but if he was this eager even without the assistance of pheromones, it seemed worth plying their effect on top.

Dominic's nostrils flared, his pupils dilating, and Glory let him grind against his foot a few more times before he withdrew it, chuckling at the noise of loss he let out.

"Jesus Christ," muttered Silver. "Is this what it's like on your home planet?"

"Not for everybody," said Glory idly. "But this seems to be his calling."

* * * * *

Dominic didn't know how long he'd been waiting at Glory's feet when one of the enforcers finally came along to try to take him again. Silver had already gone, walked off to enter his report, and Glory had given his over Dominic's head.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the past few times you've taken him into your custody, this young man's gotten out within the hour."

"Well, Sir Glory, that's really not your concern. I can assure you we will apprehend him to the best of our ability until — "

"Seems as if I'm better equipped to apprehend him," said Glory, and Dominic almost moaned just at that, swallowing around Glory's huge, strong fingers resting down his throat. "I bet that more than apprehend him, I can make sure he doesn't do anything like this ever again. I expect I could even get a polite apology from you, couldn't I, sweetheart?"

Dominic whimpers around his fingers, doesn't even try to talk, just nods his head — he'd been horny before, always was when he was working with the Poison because the Poison flirted and touched freely, but Glory's Findelian allure was fucking mindblowing, and he wanted to drown in it.

"I don't know that that's exactly ethical, Sir Glory," said one of the enforcers. "We can't just hand him over to you so that you can take him home and fuck him."

"Would you rather I fuck him here?" asked Glory, and Dominic moaned. "I'm taking him. Seems I know better what to do with him than you people do, anyway."

It was a blur, thrown over Glory's huge, blue alien shoulder and taken... elsewhere. Glory was ridiculously big, two or three times as big as the average human, even compared to the likes of Captain Silver and the other heroes, and Dominic couldn't help but shudder as he thought about it.

The Findelians were —

Big.

They were more than big: they were strong and virile and...

This was, undeniably, a better way to spend the afternoon than flirting with whoever he shared a containment cell with, or eluding whatever enforcement squad chased after him until he could settle somewhere for a drink.

Glory's residence was somewhere in the side of a mountain, and inside it was warm and plush and comfortable, with huge, wide sofas and lounging areas, wide glass windows, a big TV screen with a few games consoles attached...

"You know," said Glory as he set Dominic on his feet, pulling the rope out from where it was binding his wrists, "a lot of humans, even mutated ones, couldn't survive taking a Findelian cock. You people are so... puny, and so prone to coming apart at the slightest pressure."

Dominic swallowed, standing up straight, and he exhaled as Glory pressed on his body, examining him with interest. He pushed Dominic's shoulders back, feeling the way they bent backwards, the way that they could fold in on themselves if Dominic wanted them to, and then he pressed his huge, blue hands over Dominic's torso, pressed on the organs through the surface of his belly.

"Puny as I might be," said Dominic, "I don't come apart for anything."

"Mmm," hummed Glory, the sound low and resonant and coming from deep in his huge, barrel chest. "I see that."

"You do, don't you?" asked Dominic, pulling down the zip of his tunic, and Glory didn't show any interest in looking for the other fastenings on his suit. He wrenched it open, the fabric tearing, and Dominic gasped. "I can more than survi — "

"Hush, boy," said Glory, tearing the rest of the tunic aside and throwing it away, and Dominic swallowed as he was left naked. There was a prickling fear running over his skin, and his cock was hard, his cunt wet and throbbing — of course, all of that had been true for the past hour, but it seemed a lot more urgent when he could see the frankly terrifying (and delectable) column of Glory's gargantuan cock through his breeches. "I believe you still need to be punished for your hand in today's occurrences?"

"Going to spank me?" asked Dominic, and then cried out when Glory backhanded him across the face. He didn't do it very hard, but the slap made his cheek burn with wonderful heat.

"I will gag you if I need to," said Glory. "But I would rather hear you moan. Going to behave?"

"Yes, sir," said Dominic breathlessly.

"Good," said Glory, and shoved him backwards, not over one of the couches, but over a table, and then he slid four of his obscenely huge, alien fingers directly into Dominic's cunt.

Dominic cried out at the sudden invasion, feeling himself stretch, but Glory didn't even hesitate, curiously scissoring his fingers apart, and Dominic thought it might be a precursor to preparation, but then Glory undid his breeches, and let his cock fall against Dominic's stomach.

Dominic, unable to breathe, stared at it — or, more accurately, felt it.

It was heavy. It was very, very heavy, thicker than his thigh and about as long, resting at the midline of his torso. The bright blue flesh of it tingled where it touched Dominic's skin, and it had a tapered head, nodules all over its shaft, and a flared base with ridges that looked as though they would expand, once they were...

"That's not going to fit," said Dominic breathlessly.

"Of course it will," said Glory, lining the tapered tip up against Dominic's cock, the wetness of his alien skin leaving more tingling sensitivity on the inside of Dominic's forced-open cunt, and he whimpered at the sensation, at the way it sent throbbing, electric thrills up his spine, made his hips twitch and jump, made his cock twitch. "You stretch, don't you?"

"Yes, but I've never — " Dominic cut himself off by wailing.

Glory didn't stop to wait for more of a response from him, didn't linger on his pause to see if Dominic would explain: he thrust his hips forward in one harsh, sudden movement, filling Dominic up in one motion. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think, could only stare, paralysed with arousal and need and painful ecstasy, at the way his belly bowed out at the fat, alien cock piercing him open. It hurt. It was a wonderful hurt but it did hurt, throbbing pleasure burning in his veins and up from his cunt, and he could feel the painful stretch of his cunt around the shaft, but he bore down, grinding down against it.

His eyes were watering as Glory pulled his hips back and then slammed them home again, and Dominic cried out, because the nodules on Glory's cock were dragging and pulling at his insides, dragging over them in a way that made him squirm and hiccough and lose his fucking mind, and that was before Glory did —

Whatever it was he'd been doing all day, let out his pheromones, and suddenly Dominic's brain was reduced to nothing more than the haze of pleasure of the cock pounding his organs into nothing.

He squirmed and scrambled on the table, moving just for the sake of moving without trying for a moment to pull away, as Glory thrust inside him, feeling as though he were trying to core him like an apple, and Dominic sobbed, gasped, at the way his stomach bulged and moved to take him, the whole of Glory's cock showing when he was thrust to base as though Dominic were little more than rubber.

And his cock was wet.

The slick that came off of Glory's alien cock was sublimely wet inside him, and the whole of the world had narrowed down to it as it pierced him open, narrowed down to the cloud of pleasure that Dominic was wrapped in with himself impaled on Glory's cock, and then the spines spread out, locking Glory's cock inside his cunt, and Dominic howled.