Work Text:
Her apartment is in a good neighbourhood in Hollywood, just outside the villas and homes of movie starlets. It does wonders for hiding from Merlin and all her immortal enemies. It is a decent 5 room penthouse, with a nice view of the city, but the people are starting to grate on her nerves. Living this long does offer her insights that she had never achieved on her own.
She has been here for three years since Osborn’s reign had crumbled, whisked away from time before man by the only one who could stroke the fire inside her so.
Walking around the living room, she plopped down on a comfortable leather couch and stretched her legs over an ottoman and looked at the large television screen fastened to a wall. Did she say that this place was a gift from him? Along with a townhouse in the City of London and a private isle somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.
At first, she had thought that her dearest love was bribing her, but he had merely grumbled about mending stupid mistakes and vanished from her home, not even looking at her stunned expression that had turned into a knowing smirk.
Morgan Le Fay really couldn’t forget the first time she saw him, seeing was a relative term for sorcerers as power usually preceded their actual appearance. He was a striking presence in of full plate armour, green tabard and cloak covering the suit. At first, he had reminded her of a mere hedge knight, but those thoughts were dispelled as he had charmed her and later discarded her once she was no longer useful as most men would do.
Yet Morgan was no ordinary woman, no, her scorn was to be rightfully feared and that was where this trail of vengeance had led- to her comfortably taken care of and within reach of her beloved foe.
A small part of her did reason that she had overreacted, when her cauldron had shown signs of betrayal, not knowing that she herself had sown the seed to the event in question. How ironic indeed. Thankfully, she had decided to forgive him for his blunders.
That was a reminder not to depend on visions of future.
Recently he had tried to find a bride, become a more legitimate king, well as much as the most feared tyrant in the world can be.
Morgan did not pretend that her pride was hurt. Oh no, she had quietly decided to scry Latveria and just see who the woman was, whose hand Viktor von Doom had sought over hers.
What Morgan had found was that he had done the unimaginable and sought his retainer as his fiancée, ignorantly thinking that a wife was the same as a minion, oh how Viktor was smart, but lacked wisdom in the most integral moments. That could not be her love’s fate and like any good evil sorceress, Morgan had to test this paragon of a woman that he had chosen as his own.
When the Fantastic Four visited Latveria, a day before the wedding, she had plied her craft and with a subtle spell she had wrought calamity. Casually she had enhanced the attractiveness of one Human Torch accordingly known as Johnny Storm and thus Victorius had defeated herself, tsk tsk, by sleeping with the enemy, quite literally in her case.
Honestly, she could see what women found attractive in the blonde, but he was too skinny and pretty looking for her, as a once medieval woman, she liked her men more scarred and the weight of taken lives following in their footsteps.
She had specifically bought the European channel package from her cable company, just to see the live wedding and the fruits of her labour.
Oh gods, they had grown ripe for the taking! The best was when Victorious decided to be an honest woman for the last time in her life and admit to her sins that she had committed the day before. Morgan had cackled as the truth was revealed to the world and the screens turned to static.
Through her scrying mirror it was glorious to see her Doom lay waste to the wedding reception and bride to be flee with the lucky survivors tow, including the Fantastic Four. The former bride probably now lived in fear unless Doom had gotten to her first, after all Johnny Storm had little interest in her beyond his hero business. Quite the dog, that hero, barking up every tree he saw.
While ruining his wedding was indeed a treat for Morgana, her real reward came soon afterward, when someone ripped her wards apart in frothing rage and her room, smelling of rich perfumes, burned clothes and blood.
Ah, she could only wish he’d repeat such a performance, she couldn’t walk for days after that and whatever spell he had cast, refused to let her wounds be healed by any other means, than by time, how devious of him.
After all not often did the dreaded Dr.Doom break into the home of his ex-lover and ravish her violently, accusing her of affecting things that she couldn’t possibly influence.
She was really missing her metallic menace and after his attempts at ceasing villainous actions failed as once again, he had donned his dusty mantle of villainy, they had started to see one another much…more.
There was a hundred-year-old wine bottle in her fridge and this little trip down memory lane only increased the longing, as much as she would never admit it.
While modern youth would message their lovers through an instant messenger application or call them via the telephone, the practitioners of mystic arts were above that.
They used scrying and their astral self to communicate with others of their ways.
In unspeakable tongue she whispered to a small statuette of an Imp, which opened its jutting jaws and projected the picture of the man she sought to see.
“Viktor, I do hope that I’m not interrupting anything” Morgan smirked as she saw the sorcerer clearly enjoying himself in the dungeons of the Castle Doom with magical torture of what looked at least five men of middling physique and the profession of journalists as they cried about freedom of speech and that the United States would stop him.
“What is that you want Le Fay?” turned around and completely ignored the screaming of his prisoners as Doctor Doom was experimenting with just how harmful his spells could be without the victims perishing.
“Oh, nothing much, I was wondering if you remember the apartment, you gifted me” the raven-haired sorceress batted her eyelashes “Naturally I removed all of your scrying wards, but there is a strange spell in the living room which I cannot wrap my head around. I would appreciate if you could give your expertise on the matter”
“I recall not of what you speak” he turned away from her, cloak flowing very dramatically
“But if I was not preoccupied with these wastes of oxygen, perhaps then I could assess the spell of which you speak”
It was so wonderfully difficult to get Viktor agree with something or even make consider requests if they did not benefit him directly or rather, his pursuit of considerable power and the time it took for Fate to register its folly and punish the Plate armoured sorcerer for his arrogance.
“Is it not beneath you to torture them yourself? There must be some henchman of yours, who could fill in for you…” she scratched her chin as the monarch of Latveria narrowed his eyes.
“They were the most prominent of ill-bred, privileged parasites, who have forgotten that their words carry responsibility. I am merely informing them of such before their disposal. It was quite amusing that they threatened me with Avengers, X-Men or even, Crusaders-X”
“Perhaps we could make this into a joint exercise? I do love watching you work” she smiled at the metal mask of Doom as she brushed her hair back, before noticing something that she wished that she hadn’t.
“Perhaps” the green garbed dictator touched the metal nose of his mask with a gauntleted finger “However, what has caused displeasure to grace your face?”
Viktor Von Doom was quite perceptive and insightful when he wanted to be and when he saw one of the victims expressing a quite different bodily reaction to what someone would have when they were tortured. He extended his gauntlet at the pervert, who tried to protest through the pain and before Morgan’s eyes, the man was blown to bloody bits. His fellow prisoners tried to break free from their manacles with renewed zeal, but that did not matter at all. They were dead the moment they had decided that mocking a prideful supervillain was a risk that they were willing to make
“My knight in shining armour!” she touched her ivory white cheek in mock cheerfulness “What a disgusting little man” she winced and watched Viktor standing still as he waited for his next course of actions.
“Since I took revenge for you, you can decide what will happen to the remaining prisoners.”
She looked at the remaining wastes of space that were currently wasting the valuable evening that could have her being in a much more charming company and decided that a simple death for them was too good.
“Smother him with sand” she pointed at the leftmost man
“Drain him of his blood completely” she indicated at the one next to him
As for the last one, she smirked maliciously “make him swallow burning coals”
“How medieval of you, witch”
“Said the man wearing a full plate suit of armour in 21st century”
“Touche” he replied, and Morgan Le Fay was feeling her mood vanishing. Not because her object of affection was killing people gruesomely, but rather that he was not fast enough, and she was starting to get bored.
As the last one perished in agony, the sorceress waved her hand and the monarch had disappeared from the dungeons, only to appear in her living room, in full armour. Boy was she glad that her drapes almost always were closed.
Fun thing about the teleportation spell was that it could transport willing targets to herself without any problems on her end of the magic, which made her plans much easier than she had anticipated beforehand. It seemed that he was willing to play “Doctor” today.
“I sense no such spell witch” the armoured tyrant spoke slowly, his low voice sending shivers down her spine. It was magnificent in person, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him tonight “What tricks you want to play on Doom?”
“No third person allowed when you’re here, remember?”
“…”
“As for tricks, there are none except a nice French Vintage, exquisite company and creature comforts” she winked and stood up from the couch, closing the imp statuette and almost gliding into Doom’s metal arms.
“Your subterfuge is getting worse, months ago you would have sent assassins in my palace and greet me wearing only an overconfident smirk” he commented at the sorceress’s state of dress, but Morgana found her oversized violet jumper and gray sweatpants ideal for lounging, not like a certain someone, whose wardrobe was only suits of magitek armour.
“What can I say, I like the routine” she smirked touched his mask.
Was she anyone else, except his dead mother and father, Doctor Doom would have attempted to maul her to death immediately, but after they had spent so much time together, the mask and helmet seemed rather pointless.
“This weakness must stop” Von Doom muttered as Morgan removed the infamous face-plate.
“It’s pleasant and makes us both feel human” she whispered breathlessly and guided the armoured hands around her hips.
“What more is to be needed?” was her final question before her lips touched Viktor’s.
For a cold man, he was quite warm. It was a chaste kiss, one that they had shared many times, when both had just been content to bask in one another’s company, studying ancient tomes and one another. If there was a man who tasted like power, ambition and might, then it could only be him- Victor von Doom.
As they separated, she reached out to his cheek, but her hand was trapped by a metal gauntlet, his dark eyes looking at her, searching for possible treachery. Perhaps she once would have used the opportunity of him letting his guard down, but that was before she had…mellowed out, so to speak.
“Did I permit you to touch Doom?” he growled, but the other hand holding her against him did not relent.
“You did more than to permit me in the past, my metal man” she grinned “besides, please do stop speaking in third person, you are a man right now, not that suit of armour you use to separate yourself from the world and certainly not the image you knowingly have cultivated to the rest of the international community…”
Verbally fighting Viktor like this was hard. Doctor Doom rarely tolerated to be preached to, but she would not suffer a moronic phrase like ‘Doom is coming!’ when they were in middle of more strenuous physical activities.
Relenting, the gauntlet released her wrist, and she caressed his handsome face.
As a great sorcerer, he and herself had frozen their bodies in the prime of their lives and his regal features looked to be those of his mid-thirties, little older than herself. There were myriad reasons for the mask, but most glaring one was the one that stared back at her.
When he had first tried to rescue her mother’s soul from Mephisto, the machine he had built had not been enough and had allowed the Lord of Hell to brand him with a once unhealable wound- a large, jagged scar. It had been long healed by the sorcerer’s victories against the Devil, but it remained, marring the right side of his face, almost ending at the corner of his lip.
“You strain my patience” he ground out, but still kissed Morgan back, the forceful intent behind the motion clear to the sorceress, making her smile as her own free hand clung to the emerald tabard covering his armour. It was such a pity that he was till covered in it, but good things came to those who waited.
They separated once more and despite all her smugness, the raven-haired sorceress was slightly out of breath, her hair tousled, but before she could articulate a sassy retort, Doom kissed the sorceress again, this time his metal gauntlet grabbing a fistful of her black locks as she suppressing a moan as she ground her pelvis against his.
Tongues battled one another, for a lack of better term as truly it was nowhere near a gentle kiss exchanged by the lovers, instead it was a contest between the two and Morgan found it insulting that he would even try to make it a such, but nevertheless she enjoyed the bout. There was another thing that she had found she shared with her lover- their ambitions and convictions to achieve them.
Finally, she acquiesced, though not because she was defeated, but because she decided that there was much more to do than mere kissing.
“Where should we take this further?” she let her green eyes wander across the room “Your bed, nowhere else.” he said without giving her a chance to suggest that the surface of her kitchen table would also be wonderful or that the walls were comfortable. She already had started to form a reply, but an unladylike yelp escaped her lips.
“Viktor, what are you doing?!” she screeched as Doom released his hold on her, for him to swiftly lift her up- one hand cradling her legs, while the other pressed against her back.
Immediately, her hands linked around his neck, but the metallic dictator was on his way towards the corridor leading to her bedroom.
“I bought it for you, remember?”
“How can I after we ruined it the very first day”
“Do not be crude Morgan” her lover responded with amusement unhidden in his voice “You merely tried to kill me again”
“That’s not how we ruined it…”
“I said do not be crude” he gripped her leg tighter, and she only offered a pleased smile in return.
As both emerald clad villains entered the room, Morgan refused to suppress her squeal of mirth as she was thrown onto the King-sized bed.
“I do hope that you will join me without that armour” the sorceress winked and in Doom’s open hand, his mask flew in from the living room. Doubt now reared her ugly head and she refused to believe that Doom had answered her summons only to tease her like this. It was very unlike his grandiloquent personality, and she hoped that recent trials and tribulations hadn’t changed him so.
“Patience witch” Viktor murmured something under his breath and like an ancient vault key, did the armour crack and turn as the tyrant was released from his metal shell. Underneath it, he wore a form fitting undershirt and pants, both that fit to him like a glove.
She licked her lips, he looked as delectable as ever.
Without any further hesitation, the undershirt was discarded into the arms of the suit of armour, making her stifle the urge to rise from her soon to be battleground.
It was as if she was looking at a chiseled sculpture of a true warrior. Sculpted to perfection, the only imperfections were the wounds and reminders of battles lost and won, to even stand before her was a testament that he had succeeded where so many had not- he lived, while most of his adversaries failed.
Of course, her attention was drawn to one singular appendage that had been her bane multiple times, but not even once had she complained. Oh boy, she wasn’t going to start now.
“I see that you’re quite happy to see me” she licked her lips but made no move to remove her own clothes. The activity was much more fun, when he was there to assist her with his big strong arms.
“Biology demands it of me to react with such base impulses before our coupling” he climbed into the bed “However, I do not mind”
There was a smirk, a kiss and her arms raking his chest and Dr.Doom snaked his hands underneath her sweater and grasped her breasts, finding no lingerie there. Separating from her, the supervillain looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but Morgan whispered a spell and her jumper vanished from her form, reappearing on the floor.
There was no denying that she was a good-looking woman, she herself knew it and the fact that Viktor von Doom himself could not stay away from her was enough of an ego boost, even though he had admitted that he had done so at first only out of the desire for her power and skills in mystic arts. After had some time it was quite clear that he desired to devour her body and claim it as his own. It was fitting that their desires matched.
An hourglass shape, toned physique and breasts and buttocks of demigods, what more could she have asked for?
“No underwear? I never took you for a common harlot” he growled and palmed her breast with his large hand, thumb brushing against her nipple, which caused her to bite her bottom lip, but did not deter her from replying to the insult
“You took this long to merely get me out of my sweater” she cut back and bit his collarbone, causing the brown-haired man to hiss out in pain “We would die of old age before you would actually get around to mount me”
Sporting a bloody bruise, she could only smirk with self-satisfaction, before her ebony mane was caught in his hand as pearly white teeth caught her throat.
“Aah, you really w-want to m-mark me-aah, don’t you?!” Morgan Le Fay could only weakly moan out the question as he left his own mark on the sorceresses’ throat, before Doom’s mouth trailed downward, he left behind a trail of red bite marks until he reached the breast that was besieged by hand. As his mouth closed around her nipple, the sorceress could only run her hands through his hair as her lover slowly relinquished his control on her hair, oping to prepare her other breast for his next assault.
“Mmm, you really like my breasts, don’t you?” she whispered as the sensation of having her chest played with was stoking the fire deep inside of her, waiting for this cold man to cause an eruption.
Viktor refused to dignify her with a reply but switched her breasts by releasing the left target of his siege and regrouping to attack her left flank. Having ravaged his target, the free hand travelled downward, but Morgan held it in place, just before Doom could caress the patch of ebony hair that covered her most intimate of places.
“You have a silver tongue” she tried not to react to her own flushed face as he stopped his ministrations, raising his head to look at her “I suggest you use that instead”
“As you wish” he said simply and the raven-haired sorceress found herself on her back, without her pants and her legs hanging over Doom’s shoulders. One hand was gripping her hip, while the other was pressing against her clitoris. His eyes were full of focus for the task ahead and as her eyes met his, the moment of equilibrium was broke as he plunged his tongue inside her core.
With shaking hands, the sorceress reached for the large pillows resting against headboards and pulled those closer so that she could see her lover better at work. A However, when she managed to prop herself up, his fingers had joined the fun as she bit back a moan as the first finger joined her tongue, slightly curling as if to fully hit all the right spots to make her whimper and howl in the throes of passion.
When the second finger entered her, Morgan was clawing at her satin sheets. This was not the most tender Viktor had been to her, but it was much better just to have her clothes ripped apart, arms bound by the crimson bands of Cyttorak and fucked until she was a crying, dripping mess of her own excitement and the come of the sorcerer, who was currently making sure that her clitoris would start having withdrawal symptoms the second Dr.Doom was out of her apartment.
“Gods, don’t stop Viktor” she cried as the sorcerer slipped in a third finger, making her howl in pleasure as his rhythm was ever increasing.
At first, he had started slow and ever creepingly, the tempo had increased. Only constant in his ministrations was the unstoppable and steady rhythm that threatened to send her over the edge.
His free hand only gripped her hip harder, and she was certain that it too would bruise.
Now she didn’t speak, her cries had turned to animalistic whimpering and shallow breathing and her body was shining with sweat in the darkness of her bedroom, in anticipation of overcoming the edge of pleasure on which she was currently dancing a tightrope on.
Yet the rhythm kept on increasing as the fingers continued to move at an impeccable pace, slick with sweat and her own come. She was almost there, only a little more and she was there, only a little more…
Let it not said that Viktor von Doom did not know how to deliver a coup de grace. With a blink of an eye, his tongue inside Morgan Le Fay, finally sending her over the edge with a passionate scream and tearing of the sheets as her body shook, trying to withstand the waves of extasy that coursed through her entire being.
“Viktor…that…was” she tried to gather her words and calm her breathing as he pulled his head out from between her legs and regaled her with a content expression, his jawline dripping wet with her juices.
“Satisfactory, I presume?” he asked and replying, the sorceress weakly nodded and let out a sigh of contentment, nodding her head.
“More than you will ever know” she brushed the sweat from her brow and with a gesture of ‘come hither’ beckoned the monarch, who gently put her legs down and sliding between them closed the distance. Something, long thick and hard brushed against her entrance and there was a little bit of wetness that indicated that she was not the only one who had enjoyed his ‘monologue’.
Morgan felt his hand on her cheek and then she was kissed , her lips slightly tasting herself, which was not the first time. Instinctively her legs wrapped around his waist and pressing against the mattress, the two continued to let their bodies do the talking.
In these moments she could only thank the stars that she was both lucky and unlucky in love. Lucky in that she could have the man she desired to desire her and unlucky that it was only in these fleeting moments that from the megalomanic, metal wearing persona emerged this wonderful man. He was thoughtful, charismatic, generous and many more names that accentuated his positives. Not that she didn’t love Doctor Doom, whose appetite for power and destruction matched her own, whose battles was always a treat to watch, but Doctor Doom would have just fucked her and not even thrown her a towel to clean herself up, before leaving Morgan alone.
“I still haven’t returned the favour” she said before the kisses “Would you want me to?”
“You will not kiss me then afterwards” he pointed out and pressed a kiss to her crown as she pressed her own lips to his jawbone.
“A pity, I would driven you to reciting prayers to long lost gods” she shrugged, before adding “Though you can always change your mind”
He murmured something about a throne and Morgan raised her eyebrow at the insinuation.
“My, my, is that an invitation to Castle Doom?” she raised her eyebrows, teasing her lover and found the reaction she sought as he hardened in response.
“Perhaps” Viktor admitted, and the sorceress winked.
Pressing her hands against his broad chest, the sorceress pushed him back “If you will begrudge me this desire, then I have another” she grinned “should your majesty allow me to voice it”
“Go on…”
It had not happened often, but to the raven-haired beauty had a particular wish when it came to making love to Viktor von Doom. As much as she loved his muscular body pressing down on her as he took her or pulling her head as he penetrated her from behind, there was another position that she enjoyed for the opposite reasons.
“I want to ride the stallion in front of me”
“Do not compare me to an animal, Morgan”
“But you certainly have the part to be one” she pushed him on his back “and that one isn’t the face.”
With a chuckle, the monarch remained on his back and the green-eyed sorceress made sure that his pants were removed from his person before he could do it himself. She loved unravelling her presents and this was the one that kept on giving.
“Oh my, you’re slobbering” she grasped his uncircumcised member and let her thumb brush over the slightly exposed head, which made the man before sigh “It’s anticipating the coming battle, a sign of bloodlust, you see”
“Hm, is that so?” The sorceress gave the member couple of not too gentle tugs, that succeeded in getting it ready for attention. Climbing on top of him, she let herself grind against his member, eliciting subdued groans of the supervillain as they were only getting started.
Raising herself above her lover, she plunged down, wincing as the sheer girth and length of his cock stretched her out. She thought that she had gotten used to his size in the past, but her body had betrayed her and forgotten to brace for the impact.
“Wonderful” the sorceress settled comfortably on his hips, feeling him twitching inside of her “You feel simply wonderful, I hope you know that” she placed her hands on his pectorals and slowly gyrated her hips.
Then with slow motions she let herself rise and impale herself again on her lover underneath. Every time she did that, the pain was slowly overcome with pleasure and his hands found themselves on her hips as his breathing grew heavy. Yet Morgan knew that Viktor would never succumb to her easily. As a heavyweight in the category of powerful beings, there wasn’t a thing that wasn’t exceptional about him, and stamina was no exception.
She never wore condoms, her only partner in a long while was the one who she was riding with wild abandon currently and having another child with him was not something that she wished to avoid. If such an accident were to happen, she hoped that the babe would be a boy, gifted with her eyes and his father’s unbreakable will.
“Does it, Ah, ever encumber you, Ah, walking around with a sword in your pants?” she managed to ask throughout his thrusts. His reply was a shake of his head, a smile and his hips bucking, almost knocking the breath from her lungs.
The feeling of time was lost to Morgan as she was rocked by her lover, holding on her dear life as she rose and fell, her hips meeting his- to their mutual pleasure and her pain. Yet she could only hold on as the stallion she had chosen was a prideful and unyielding beast, who never accepted her position over him as anything, but being there due his own generosity.
Within minutes of climbing on the Doom express, she was moaning and howling as she clenched down on his cock, like a bitch in heat, unable to bear the heat that was pushing in and out of her. Yet she kept on riding him, fully enjoying von Doom’s face that was trying to resist the pleasure that he was feeling, still he could not escape the grunting, moaning and clutching at her in the throes of passion. It did more than please her to show that the great Viktor von Doom was capable of losing control and that she was capable of unravelling him here, only like a woman could.
At what time had he risen in a sitting position to ravish her lips and breasts again, Morgan Le Fay did not know, but what she did know was that she would be sore in the morning and that she could not remember how many orgasms she had had and that her voice was almost coarse from all the screaming she had done. Never before had she been so thankful, that her apartment had no neighbours, and it was completely soundproof. Though perhaps she wanted for everyone to know that she did get fucked raw from time to time and enjoyed it.
Her hands caressed his hair as Viktor manhandled her, sliding her up and down on him and leaning in close, she couldn’t help, but whisper words of praise and encouragement as they both moved together, entwined.
Both completely slick with sweat, she linked her hands behind his neck and murmured in his ear “Come for me, love. I know you want to…”
“Your lips can do better things than talking”
“Oh, I know, Viktor” she kissed him and while it did not have the desired effect, but her own orgasm was only beginning to approach culmination and Morgana could hold onto then. As the pace of his thrusts increased and his hands gripped her hard enough to bruise.
Morgan Le Fay came when Doom pinned her against the headboard of her bed, forehead pressing against hers as they breathed heavily and together. Her legs locked behind his back and forcing him to push into her fully, her arms raked his broad back, lips meeting mid thrust. Her muscles clenching sent the sorcerer over the edge as well and she could only feel warmth wash over her as she was filled with his seed.
This moment was perfect for her and the sorceress wanted to just let them be-entwined and complete. She knew that both of them were quite flawed and the kind of people for whom proper relationship would be quite unlikely, but there was that little womanly voice inside of her that wanted for it to succeed.
“Do you want for me to take care of it?” Viktor asked as he pulled himself from her, his member slick with her juices and his own semen. From bathroom flew a towel and carefully, she wrapped the cloth around him and cleaned her lover. She would have preferred to have him cleaned with her tongue, but admittedly now was not the time.
“Not really” she shook her head “If I had a child then there would be much less reason for me to cause havoc in your life” she explained and as Doom settled beside her and pulled her close, making her the little spoon as he raised on pillows. She could not see his face but judging by the stillness and as he was holding her, he was thinking. It was quite serious as usually it did not stop him from conversing with her, especially post coitus.
“If I were to attempt marriage again, would you attempt to ruin the bride as you did to the poor Zora?” he asked and Morgan did not like the question one bit, it was undoubtedly a test and a heavy one for pillow talk, yet the sorceress had never shied away from a challenge and their relationship wouldn’t be nearly as fun if they didn’t have their shares of arguments and fights. Granted both of them had tried to kill the other in the past, but those were crimes of passion. As she did think some more, the sorceress had her answer.
“Well I honestly would try to test if she was loyal to you and capable of standing by your side and not in the shadow. Someone who would match your pedigree” she spoke honestly, but it was a leading answer, one that required him proceeding to ask more questions and look into them.
“Should she be a magic user?”
“Preferably Sorcerer Supreme candidate” she coyly replied and nuzzled against his chest.
“She should be capable to rule?”
“At least ties with royalty” Morgan traced her fingers on one of the many scars that littered his arms.
“Someone of renown?” Viktor asked and she had a feeling that he was getting closer and closer to piecing the whole puzzle together.
She nodded “A stuff of legends, love.”
“I believe that I have the answer, sorceress.” Doom finally spoke and she was amazed at the finality of that sentence. She thought that it might have taken him much longer to figure out the answer to her questions.
“What’s the answer then?”
“Queen Hela of Niflheim ” was his answer and Morgan rolled her eyes, but was not completely done with him, it was amazing how supposedly for such a smart man, Doom could be dense.
“How would you seduce a goddess?”
“Even gods have heard of Doom-don’t touch me woman!”
“Remember about the third person Viktor!” she hissed as she slapped his knee, but Doom did not release his hold on her.
“As I was saying Hela would have most admirable qualities, but her loyalty would be to Asgard and Loki, which would put me in a precarious situation” he thought aloud, holding her close and perhaps there was still hope for him left “There is Selene, Clea, Magik and myriad other women that could suit my needs, but none of them could be at my side for a long time due to their predilection for super heroics or affiliation with groups, which I find distasteful. She should stand alone and tall, peerless to defend our homeland if I am not available and dedicated to a shared ambition. Yet as Zora showed me, women are fickle things” he monologued and seemingly ended his short speech at the mention of his unfaithful bride to be, but it was not so “Yet there is one else of whose fickle nature, scheming and hedonism I can be certain and even rely on.”
“It’s all very nice Viktor but does such a woman even exist?” she laid against him, heart beating with anticipation, it would either disappoint her or make her year and with him it was a 50/50 chance. She was ready to silently stifle herself and sink into self-loathing for listening to her impulses over her brain. How did a mere lustful encounter reduce her to such a state?! By all logic, Morgan Le Fay should have been above such emotions, especially in their circumstances.
“I believe that I know her quite well” he spoke softly and sighed “I mistreated her and only took from her due to my own hubris and vanity. Yet she indirectly gave me a boon, by revealing a potential mistake in the making. She shares my interests and my temperament, but I cannot be certain that I can trust her not to betray me like I did her. The likelihood of a failed marriage is quite-”
“Oh, you stupid fool!” she broke out of his hold, even though he did not try to force her back “Had I hated you so much you think I did, I wouldn’t have borne you a daughter!”
There was no tears in her eyes, for those had long dried, but this confirmation tore open these old scars-those hurt much more.
From the other side of the bed she looked at Dr.Doom, her using the blanket to cover herself, while he remained unabashedly naked, looking at her with unreadable expression.
“I never said that I would not ask for her hand. I merely said that I cannot trust her due to my own previous actions and that she had such a secret that she did not deign important enough to share with me”
“She thought that you wouldn’t care. What if…” she paused “What if she told you that she would forgive you in exchange for a single favour from you…”
“Should it be doable, then I swear on my honour it would be done” he nodded and without thinking, she knew her answer.
“I forgave you long ago, Viktor” Morgan Le Fay had many regrets in her life, but having Caroline was not one of them, she had sent her to the future for her own safety, not knowing that Dr.Doom would even want her. Now she realized that she had committed an enormous mistake, she would seek it undone at any cost. Doom had a time machine, surely, he could calculate a way to have her without making a mess of the timelines.
“I sent our daughter to the future, about a year since our last coupling in Arthurian England” she bit out “I do not know to what time I sent her, but it was to a cult dedicated in my name. Return her to us and I will be the happiest evil sorceress that has ever lived.”
Viktor was thinking once more, his brows were furrowed “I do not know how long it will take for me to do my calculations, but it is doable, after all time is not a thing we have to worry about. Now come back to bed, you foolish sorceress, for I have a single question to ask you, one that requires an immediate answer.” The sorcerer nodded and beckoned her closer and did not have to wait long for the woman to return beside him.
Still covered by the sheets she leaned against his shoulder and let Viktor slide underneath the sheets along with her. Unsurprisingly he grabbed a hold of her once more and pulled her against his chest. Looking up at the sorcerer, she expected his face twisted into a thought wracked grimace, but there was only clarity in his eyes and that somehow worried her.
“Morgan Le Fay, you have been my lover and my enemy, my mentor and saboteur. Only once before, have I asked for a woman’s hand in matrimony, and she disappointed me. Then again, she did not know me as I know you. I know your deficiencies and find them compatible with mine. I know your exemplary qualities and find them having a synergy with mine. I would rather have you as an ally than an enemy, but I would prefer you as a wife to an ally” He spoke without hesitation or doubt, he was resolute and when he said the word ‘wife’, Morgan was in tears. This was the marriage she had envisioned as a little girl and after trials and tribulations this was it!
Grasping her hand with his Viktor von Doom looked at Morgan Le Fay asked the fateful question “Will you, Morgan Le Fay, marry me?”
“You foolish, arrogant, brute of a man!” she cried, brushing aside her tears “Of course I will!”
Then she launched herself at one of the most feared supervillains in the world and together they tumbled in the bed, eventually rolling outside of it, laughing as they fell on the carpeted floor, where their laughter slowly turned to familiar groans and eventual moans of pleasure.
May the world beware, soon the Latverian Dragon would have two heads, roaring at the world and daring it to rise to meet them.