Your POV

“Stop, please, I don’t think I can take any more.” 

You’re surprised to hear the words come out of your mouth. They’d been swirling around in your head for what’s felt like hours. But you hadn’t thought you’d dare to speak them outloud. The last thing you want is to upset your boyfriend, and he seems to be having such a great time, even if you’re not. The taste of your own blood is still sitting thickly on your tongue, making you feel sick. You don’t know how the supe is getting so much pleasure from it. 

He finally pulls his mouth away and your entire core throbs in pain and overstimulation. 

“You’ve not had enough of me, have you sweetheart?” 

His breath still lingers on your skin and it’s enough to make you want to cry, but you suck it up. Your main concern is the look of dejection on his face. He thinks you don’t want him anymore, and that’s far from the truth, you’re just physically exhausted. You don’t have superhuman stamina on your side like he does, and your body is still adjusting to his size and vigor, even after all this time. 

“No… no,” you rush to defend. “I’m just sore, I think I need a break, please?” 

Soldier Boy huffs, now clearly upset with you, which makes your heart stop and your stomach tense up. It takes barely any time of him looking down at you for you to find a suitable solution that doesn’t require him fucking you. 

“I can suck your cock again?” 

You’re exhausted, not sure your throat can take any more abuse, but the thought of him between your legs for even a second longer is too much to bear. So your throat is the lesser of the two evils right now.  

The supe sighs heavily, but he nods his head, which at first you’re relieved about. But then you see the disappointment on his face. He’s only pretending to be okay with your compromise, and you don’t want to upset him.  

“It’s okay, we can fuck again,” you relent, not wanting him to be disappointed in you for a moment longer. You lay back and spread your legs to prove that you’re willing, and try to give him your best reassuring smile.

“Good girl,” he smirks, seeming to buy your ruse, which you’re thankful for, even if you are tense and nervous about the inevitable pain. 

Soldier Boy must just not realise how painful this really is for you, because you’re sure if he did, he wouldn’t put you through this. He’s superhuman, he probably doesn’t feel pain the same way, and his threshold is going to be so much higher than yours ever could be. Maybe he doesn’t even remember what it’s like to be human. Maybe he never was, you’re not sure how the superhero stuff really works. But what you do know is that it’s mainly your fault, anyway. You’re the one that acts like it’s all fine, that he doesn’t hurt you. That’s not his fault, he probably just doesn’t know. 

Your thoughts just about distract you from the unbearable pain enough that you’re able to hold in the screams and only whimper, and finally what feels like neverending torture comes to an end, and the supe fills you with hot cum. It mixes with your blood and stains the bed sheets, and you worry your bottom lip wondering if he’ll always make you bleed, and if maybe you should seek medical attention. Maybe there’s something you can do or take so that it makes it less painful for you. You want to be with the supe for the rest of your life, but you can’t imagine it being like this the whole time. And you don’t want to leave him just because the sex is painful. 

You realise that he’s looking at you so you smile sweetly and try to get comfortable as he climbs off of the bed. It’s a struggle, because no matter how you move your body it just hurts, and you wonder how many painkillers it’ll take this time to numb it just enough for you to be able to function. Then you start to wonder if you’ll become addicted or reliant on painkillers for the rest of your life, just to cope with being in love with a supe. You don’t hate the idea as much as you know you probably should, not if it means you get to be with Soldier Boy for the rest of your life. You just hope he really does feel the same, and a wave of uncertainty washes over you.

“Urm… Ben?” you call out quietly. 

He smiles as he looks at you and replies. “Yeah, baby?” 

“You urm… you do love me, right? You wanna be with me forever?” 

You know you sound needy and pathetic, but right now you’re feeling vulnerable and fragile and you need to know that all this isn’t for nothing. He seems to laugh at first, his eyebrows higher than you’ve ever seen them, but then he clears his throat, and he’s once again serious and sincere. 

“Sure,” he says, nodding his head. “Yeah, of course baby,” he adds, smiling. “You and me for the rest of your life.”  

The confirmation makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, and you instantly beam at him, so happy you’re both on the same page, which just seems to make all of this worth it. 

Being alone is the worst. It’s when you’re alone that you start to realise that you’re just not happy without the supe. You’re lonely and miserable and just constantly in pain. You swallow another few painkillers at that thought, and chase them down with some whiskey. You’ve grown to like the taste given that Soldier Boy usually offers you some most evenings. And you like the slight buzz it gives you, though you’re starting to realise you need more and more to get to that point as time goes on.

You’ve been living in this apartment with him for over a month now. For the most part, you like it, and you love him and living with him hasn’t changed that, if anything it’s made it stronger. You’ve come to realise that the supe isn’t perfect. The moment in the alleyway between you the night you left with him should’ve warned you of that, but it took a few more instances that were similar for you to realise it completely. But it’s usually your fault somehow. You say the wrong thing to piss him off, or he’s had a tough day, or Vought is breathing down his neck about something. He doesn’t mean it. You’ve only thought about leaving him a couple of times, but both times he’s managed to get you to stay. Unintentionally, of course. Usually he’ll have calmed down, and he’s sweet and gentle, and he tells you you’re perfect or that he loves you, and then all your doubts melt away again.

You take a deep breath and wince as you bravely get up to walk over to the window. It still burns between your legs and feels like you’ve been suckerpunched a thousand times, but it’s bearable thanks to the whiskey and the extra painkillers. 

You glance down at the world below, watching people going back and forth, getting on with their lives, and you feel like someone on the outside looking in. You’ve not actually left the apartment since you arrived. Solder Boy doesn’t like you leaving without him, worried that he can’t protect you if something was to go wrong, and when he is around, he often wants to stay in and fuck. You’d asked him a few times if he could take you into Vought with him, and he’d promised he’d try to arrange something, but he’s not talked about it since so you can only assume that he hasn’t been able to yet. 

Then your mind wanders to your family and how the last time you saw them was your birthday party, and how there’s still things at your house you want. Ben had been kind enough to let you order new clothes to the apartment, so that wasn’t an issue, but you had valuables at home you didn’t want to be without, and you’d at least like one photo of your family here for when you’re missing them like right now.

For a brief second you think about texting the supe and asking if he’s okay with you going to visit them, but then you remember he doesn’t have a cell. Well, he does, but as he’s not used to them and doesn’t know how to work one, he often lets the battery run flat or just leaves it at home, and you’re fairly sure you’ve seen it on the kitchen counter since he left two days before for a trip. It drives Ashley mad, according to your boyfriend, but something tells you he relishes in that.

You figure there’s no harm in leaving the apartment for one evening, going home to get some things and then coming back before Soldier Boy gets back. You’re assuming that won’t be today. You used to be fine going out without anyone else, you were once fiercely independent. Besides, no one knows about your relationship with the supe yet, so it’s not like that’s put you in any additional danger. You take a deep breath and weigh up your options, thinking about how much you miss your family, and how you just want to see them again. You turn around, finding the packet of painkillers on the couch and taking another two. That should see you through an evening out. 

Your mother and father seem shocked to see you, but they welcome you warmly and you think your mother isn’t going to let you go as she hugs you to near death. Thanks to the painkillers, you’re not in a huge amount of discomfort, and you force a smile to hide the pain when she pulls back and stares you in the eyes, reaching up to hold your face. 

“It’s felt like forever,” she tells you, tears glazing over your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, it’s been crazy,” you explain, sitting down on the couch as both your parents follow you. “Hey Grandad,” you smile warmly at the sight of him parked next to the couch, and he smiles brightly when he sees you. “I meant to stop by sooner, but things have been hectic,” you excuse. 

“What do you mean?” your mother asks, concerned. 

You know your parents would never understand your relationship with the supe, you already know they’re hardly supportive of it. 

“Well, moving in, getting settled, Ben has been taking me to Vought a lot so I can see how things work there. Y’know I think I’d like working there,” you lie, forcing a bright smile. “In fact, urm… Ben always tells me I’d do a better job than most of the people there… he’s so sweet like that,” you laugh, getting caught up in your own fantasy. 

Your parents smile uncomfortably, and your father clears his throat.

“Sweetheart, we weren’t happy with the way he left things with us,” he begins to explain.

“I know,” you nod. “Ben feels terrible about that, he was just scared of losing me. He wanted to come today, but he was afraid that you wouldn’t want him here after the way he spoke to you.” 

“I’d have liked an apology,” your father counters. 

“Of course, I’ll let him know, maybe next time I visit he can come.” 

“Honey…” your mother begins. “Why don’t you just… stay here? Ben can visit whenever he wants, you can visit him, but don’t you think you should at least graduate highschool before you move out?” 

“No,” you protest. “No, mom, Ben said–” you stop yourself. 

“What did Ben say?” your father presses, clenching his jaw. 

“If it was something threatening or if he’s hurt you… you can tell us,” your mother encourages. 

“Ben would never hurt me,” you protest. You know it’s a half lie, but you also know he’d never intentionally hurt you. 

“Are you sure?” your father asks sceptically. 

“It doesn’t matter what I say, does it? No matter what he does you’ll never like him, and you’ll never be happy for me.” 

“Sweetheart, it’s not like that. You’ve got to understand…” your mother begins. 

“I understand,” you nod, standing up. You should’ve known that they’d try to turn you against him. “You’re trying to control me. But I’m an adult now, and I’ve chosen to be with Ben, and you can’t do anything about that. If you’re not going to be happy for me, I don’t see any reason for me to visit again.” 

You rush to the door as quickly as the pain between your legs allows, and you don’t look back even when your parents call your name. You slam the door closed behind you, trying your best to hold the tears in as you start to make your way back to the apartment. 

You’re trying your best to hold the tears in, but they’re relentless as they stream down your cheeks. At least you’re in the comfort of the apartment again now, though, and as you start to let it out and cry freely, you think you can hear something above your sobs, so you quieten down, wiping your cheeks as your eyes fall on the hallway to your bedroom. You try to suck it all up, slowly making your way closer to see the bedroom light is on, shining through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you can hear Soldier Boy grunting. Maybe he’s working out. You didn’t think he’d be back so soon. You don’t want him to see you upset, and you’re already worried that he’ll be mad that you weren’t here when he got home, so you take a deep breath and prepare to face him. 

But when you open the door, you’re not prepared for what you come face to face with.

“There you fuckin’ are,” he grunts, “c’mere, we’ve been waiting for you.”