Possessing
For a long, long, time, there's nothing to break the darkness that has fallen upon Bruce. Only the pain of his charred flesh (mind, imagined flesh?) and the desperate feeling of loss he can no longer fully understand.
He knows there's something precious lost to his memories, has only vague sensations of his (it was a he, wasn't it?) presence; Warm, calloused hands, black raven locks, and a name he so adored.
Can taste it's shape on his lips, still trapped between his teeth. But it's like a dream long gone, mist he cannot grasp.
In the terrible blank pain Bruce lives in, straining to recall that witch is lost, those little remainings are the only thing keeping him sane.
Then, one day, or week or year- impossible to tell in the darkness, like he couldn't tell many other things- came another's presence. One big, enormous and familiar body, that enveloped his frame into a protective hug, rumbling troubled all along.
In those arms he found relief.
His wounds mended slowly, his mind calmed down. Until the pain dimmed to a dull ache. Yet, protected and comfortable as he was, the memories didn't return.
Bruce wallowed in shadows and ashes. Sometimes there were flashes like lightning, when he could almost see... before the darkness gulped him back, until the time true brightness broke through.
One moment there was nothing, save the snarling of his guardian getting more and more enraged by the second, next, he could see through the monster's eyes, listen through his ears;
A man was howling, lost somewhere among debris and broken walls painted in iron red blood and grey ash. Water fell from broken pipes like a waterfall, shiny in the sun that came past the broken roof.
The building around them, had been broken like the shell of an egg to let the warm summer atmosphere filter inside.
It was oddly beautiful.
Then, he took in the only intact thing in the recess of the destroyed building; a tired and proud looking man, draped in gleaming red and golden metal.
HIM.
Bruce felt himself fall in place, get shaken to his very core.
Oh, how he had searched for this man in his damaged memories, how had he wanted, and needed, and hungered, without knowing. Now he's before him, he can't do nothing but watch, enslaved by the very shape of his.
He looks magnificent batted in sun, even when he's clearly unwell; deep shadows mar his eyes, reminiscent of long sleepless nights, his cheeks are gently sunken, reflect of recent weight loss, and his hair and goatee look unkeep. Still, he admires the petroleum black of his hair, his honey sun kissed skin, the cocky smile on his lips… and the confusion, relief, worry… love, in his stare.
Bruce dips his gaze in the well of his eyes, and knows the warm brown of those irises. He's known it for a thousand days, a hundred nights, an impossible expanse of connecting dots of feverish skin, luscious limbs and sparkling words.
He knows: TONY.
A name that's more than a word, it's a mantra, a pray and a pond that contains years of memories.
All of those and so much more. His ALL. His WORLD.
Bruce remembers.
His life, the Avengers, the dragon, the voice, the fight, the fall, the monsters torture…
The yellow vile creature who broke Bruce and is keeping him prisoner inside himself.
He tries to take control, but he's too weak, and when the Yellow feels him, Bruce is cast back into the darkness and Hulk's arms. But now that the dark has been breached once, it's not as thick, and with new understanding he can spy from the cracks of the wall to the exterior, waiting to get free.
And when the evil Yellow thing hurt his friends later, Bruce was alert and waiting, prepared to wrestle the control back.
oOo
(Tony)
Tony rolled away from Yellow Hulk's arms, now that they were finally alone and still, so as not to vomit on him.
The journey here was made in a hurry of powerful leaps, stronger and wider than many rivers, that took a few hours to complete. Enough for night to fall, and darkness to envelop them in the vague cold light of the moon and the stars.
They were somewhere in a mountains thick forest, that much Tony knew, thanks to the tall old pine trees, the rocky terrain, and the sound of running water not far away.
But the knowledge was a vaguely acknowledged thing for the engineer, as dizzy as he felt after having been dragged there.
He couldn't control the trembling in his limbs as he fell to his knees, convulsed by dry heaving, even when he had nothing inside to give, save a few drops of bile that managed to stain his lips.
He gulped down much needed oxygen, little by little managing to settle his stomach and quite his trembling.
"That was fucking horrible. Let's not do it again.", managed tiredly. His healing wound ached beneath the armour. Maybe some of his stitches had opened. "Bruce?" He got up on still weak legs, to finally turn around and see his lover.
Yellow Hulk was not far away, looking shaki himself. However, not from physical pain.
"Don't call me that." He rumbled oddly mellow.
Tony just came nearer.
"I don't have another name to call you. Unless you want me to say Yellow Hulk every time I see you." he tried being funny to light the mood, despite knowing there would be consequences for what had been done he hadn't permitted himself to think about, but...
Yellow snarled and unfolded from his hunched position, towering above Tony like a Titan. So enormous he could barely reach his scaly knees.
oOo
(Evil Hulk)
Banner, cursed damned name.
The weak human was awake, alert as a hawk. He could feel him. His damaged will endeavouring to take control back.
And when Stark had protected their friends the accursed one had taken advantage of the display of love that weakened his hate.
The pull had been strong enough to shake, to weaken him. And if Banner had succeeded, he would have been imprisoned as had been for years, abandoned in the recesses of their shared mind space, like vermin on a gloomy corner.
The near brush with captivity left his yellow flesh feeling thin, like little butter spread on too much toast…
He needed hate, needed loathing. Pain and sorrow made his meals, his strength. In Bruce's darkness he thrived.
Bruce Banner had hurt him, and he thirsted to wound him back.
Then, Stark spoke… and he knew how to.
oOo
Suddenly, Tony found himself being thrown on the floor, sprawled under heavy claws, pressed firmly into damp soil. Made prisoner by too warm scales.
"... what…?" he uttered in confusion, fingers grasping strong enormous digits and deadly claws.
He didn't fight to win freedom from his impromptu cage, instead, the genius though: about the reasons for this, about what little he knew of this Yellow side of his beloved.
Also, about this strange feeling of being utterly at his lover's hands. Not even Hulk had taken advantage of his strength to this extent, content to no more than lift Tony in his arms.
It was rare, somehow... endearing, yet, it left adrenaline coursing like a drug shot through his veins.
As all that was dark and evil in Bruce, he watched Stark helpless beneath him, and felt satisfaction curle low in his belly. That of knowing killing the engineer would deprive Bruce of his sharpest blade against him (love that was a weapon against hate, self-loathing and regret.), Of knowing how great a pain, terrible self-hate and sorrow, he would cause in his nemesis if the man of iron died at his hands, their hands. The red sharp pleasure of looking forward to the strength such feelings would feed him.
And another more subtle sensation, that added to his satisfaction without being easily understood.
A shimmery something he had not familiarity with, and too little to give him pause.
The creature he was, gave Anthony a curve of lips full of cruelty.
Stark was a fool that played with fires he couldn't quench, and it was time he got burned for it.
The pressure augmented, till his metal armour creaked much like too thin paper.
If he had still been wearing his helmet, Tony knew there would have been warnings flashing on his HUD. It was becoming suffocating.
And still he didn't know what had brought this on. He was uncertain, trying to understand.
But not afraid.
He couldn't fear his love. Wouldn't. Such distrust would destroy everything they had forged. The very foundation of Bruce's love for him was Tony's refusal to be cowed the Hulk. How could he let himself be less than strong, when he knew what he stood to lose?
He couldn't let it happen. He would not!
Had to believe Bruce didn't truly mean to hurt him, not even this darkest side.
However, his belief wasn't' enough to stop his coughing when the chest piece began to give into the pressure. The arc reactor dug painfully into his muscles, taking more breath space than usual, and leaving him suffocating under the physical sensations, and the memories of Afghanistan, that wanted to come to the surface under the oxygen deprivation.
Tony felt the first stages of a panic attack, curl hawthorn like around his heart.
"...B, Bruce…" he called in a gasp. Fingers now digging into scaly yellow skin. "...T...to...m,much."
He couldn't breathe.
The yellow evil being, felt Bruce's rage against what he was doing. His fear, his helplessness. So great and delicious, much like an energetic beverage, reviving him.
But it was a delicate game of balance this he had on play. He could not get Bruce to enraged, less he gave too much strength to the green one.
As such, he needed to balance his actions to bring more hate and self-loathing than fury.
Yet, he got distracted by how beautiful looked Tony now.
His flushed skin and parted lips, the uneven exhales that raked his chest, his damp from sweat locks caressing sunbathed flesh… looking so... wanton… so sensual.
The yellow creature felt himself suddenly burning under a fire very different than that of bloodlust: pure red flames of desire taking possession of his innards and pushing him to claim, mark, posses, this one who must be his, and his alone.
A primal need like a tornado, the creature found himself not wanting to back from.
As he hardened, his internal genitals, much like a reptile's, left their hidden place to emerge from scaly skin: bringing out an enormous appendage of yellow nearly flushed orange from blood, column, of moist iron-hard flesh.
The exposure to the chilly nocturn air, made him groan.
Sometimes, he himself forgot that lust was a darkness too. And one that was part of himself as well.
Yet, he had not felt the same when killing the men and women at the base. There hadn't been nothing but hate, vengeance, cruelty and bloodlust, then. Now, however...
He licked what passed for lips on his dragon face, and decided he could wait to kill the engineer, when the pleasure he would get, far surpassed any other hunger he could have to see blood spilled.
Tony saw dark spots begin to flourish on his vision, as air deprivation slowly drowned him… and his nails dug uselessly into too resistant scales...
When suddenly the weight lifted, letting his lungs take a much needed breath.
He coughed and gasped, feeling much like a wet and lifeless towel.
Then, as he struggled to speak, giant fingers curved claw like around what was left of his armour, and wicked nails broke the metal, tore it down, and peeled it back from his body, like an otter may peel an oyster from its sell.
Underneath Tony wore only the hospital pijama, and the few colorful curses that breathlessly managed to left his mouth in air deprived confused surprise.
"Fucking fuck! That took me a month of work. Dam! I could have taken it off.."
But all words died on his tongue, when he saw the estate Yellow was in... well, all but two.
"... That's huge." He said without thinking.
The evil Hulk chuckled at his antics, as the same titanic hand that had nearly suffocated him before, curled around his body with much more pleasurable intent.
One calloused finger found his way between his legs, were he parted Tony's thighs, gently pressing between them, to rub his covered member.
Tony shuddered, and panted. Suddenly thrown into one of his most bizarre fantasies. He had many times wondered, how would feel Hulks terrible strength against him with more intent than a few sloppy kisses and sweet cuddles.
In that way, Hulk was much like a boy, and he didn't understand, not needed, the more exciting parts of a relationship. Happy with being able to smash things with his boyfriend, and kissing afterwards, but Tony had always wondered…
And now, to have such power focused on him, wanting him, taking from him without even asking… it was a heady experience. He went from exhausted, to rock-hard, in less than a minute. Moaning in pleasure, as the finger descended to press against his buttocks. He clenched his thighs around the digit, his back had fallen to rest on the ground, utterly boneless, as his hands caressed whichever warm yellow scales he could reach.
Tony couldn't stop shivering.
"You look so good, so wanton, Tony." Yellow breathed into a gasp.
He had never been able to truly touch, really feel. In his many years of imprisonment all he had where snatched images, little less than dream impressions. Now that he was finally able to experience first hand, he found himself addicted to the sensation of Tony's warm skin, shuddering in pleasure against his own. It was delicious, this feeling of being wanted, desired… he needed more, Wanted more!
He tore the hospital gown from Tony's body, leaving him naked, precious and flushed… then he saw the barely closed wound at his side; an irregular pinkish and purple expanse of flesh, barely knighted together with medical thread.
So damaged it had still the purplish colour of the impact nearly three weeks later.
The evil Hulk felt himself suddenly flourish from an horrible sulphurous hate, directed to the one not him, that had marked the engineer so…
A wave of possessiveness crashed again the flames of hate, just as Tony moaned and twisted against his hand, searching for more skin to skin contact.
Needing like he needed.
"Please, oh please." Tony groaned, wanted, needed.."More!"
It will continue.