Fantastic Four: The Visible Man

A/N: Following Robin The Cradle...

Namor did not know how Sue Storm suddenly appeared in the throne room of Atlantis, coming all the way from the surface world to this, the most secure chamber in all his kingdom, the court where the most important envoys of his people met and attended him. She simply appeared, fading into view with no more effort than stepping out from behind a wall.

"Namor," she said, her voice gentle, but carrying to him from the respectful distance she had placed herself at. "If you want me, have me. I'm yours. Right here. Right now."

For a moment, even Namor suspected something was amiss. That she was a Skrull, a clone, some form of automaton. But his senses could not be mistaken. This was Susan Storm, speaking the words he had long waited to hear. Her scent was that of a woman impassioned, the sight of her flushed with need. He stood from his throne, utterly ignoring the many protectors who were marshalling against this sudden intrusion.

"Leave us," he commanded, his voice equally soft to Sue's, not breaking the mood. His head had twisted slightly to the side, addressing everyone but the one whose eyes he met.

One of his vassals rushed up. "My liege, there is important business that must be attended to—the ambassadors—your guests—"

Namor cuffed him alongside the head, nearly sending him to the ground. "Leave or be made to leave," Namor said. If anything, his voice was quieter than before, but nonetheless, anyone who heard was even less inclined to disobey this proclamation.

The throne room was soon emptied of even his most trusted guards, the doors sealed, the immediate vicinity evacuated so not a trace of life could be seen even through the vast windows. Even the lights dimmed to account for the great space now only having two people in it. Now the light mainly came through the windows, as the many phosphorescent marine life of the depths cast their glow through the reinforced glass, lighting the two of them in rippling tints of blue.

Namor came down the steps that led to his majestic throne, but even on the same ground as Sue, he towered over her. He sensed her shortness of breath at the nearness of him, the ripened desire she no longer tried to hide or repress, the glazing touch of her eyes upon his grandeur.

"If you toy with my affections," he began, "or use this stratagem as an excuse for some devising, I will not forgive it easily."

"I've never toyed with your affections. I've always been forthright and honest. I couldn't be with you before... for many reasons. Now I can. And I want to." She said it all, like it was so simple, so true, when it was anything but. She had the nobility of royalty born, a native majesty that belonged at his side, in his arms, possessed by him and possessing him equally—hidden in her humility, obscured by her humble façade. It invigorated him to delve for it within her many base charms.

"Then you are mine?" he asked with quirked eyebrow.

She pulled upon the zipper of her bodysuit, fittingly invisible when not in use. It was as if her costume was suddenly parted. What had before been an unbroken plain of blue—the sheer color attempting to flatten her body, hiding all trace of her bosom but the shade that fell beneath them—now was an inviting swath of bare flesh, from the soft hollow of her throat to her thrillingly toned stomach.

Still, Namor did not move. He wished to savor this. Not just her offering of herself to him, but all that was being offered. Her face was not the perfection that could be found elsewhere, the elaborate warpaint that so many females favored, but elegant simplicity, even eccentricity. A button nose, striking and appealing, prominent cheekbones, a face built for easy smiles, not simmering sexuality. Where so many women tried to hide, downplay, make ambiguous their features in seeking some cosmopolitan consensus, Sue was absolutely immersed in her own identity.

Her body was equally appealing. Fit, toned, not a warrior's scarred and bulging musculature, but a warrior's body nonetheless. Her chest full and ripe, but not seeking the eye with any overtness. Her breasts were subtle and sweet, still concealed by either side of her open suit with an ornate sensuality. She owned them, they did not own her. He was again drawn to her very simplicity: her open nature, her plain-faced statement in all manners. When she was angered, she became angry—no exaggeration, no hiding. Her lustfulness was equally obvious. Neither show nor act, but a sweetly earnest admission of his beauty, of her own beauty, of her wish to see her fine body turned to pleasure at his hands.

Namor brought his fingers to her face. The rush of his fingertips over her cheeks was stark, simple, thrilling. She arched into the contact, allowing his touch to progress down her delicate neck, upon her sloping shoulders. He grasped and gripped the halves of her suit, more offended than ever by her covering now that he had caught a glimpse of what was underneath. With a fraction of unleashed power, he rent her clothing from her body.

"Namor!" she gasped, shocked but not unpleased as her suit hung in tatters from her waist down. Her breasts, though not prominent, were full and matronly. Her body seemed to have the very promise of peace in its softness. She was a woman meant for the bed and the hearth—suited for the battlefield, but truly destined to order the household, to fit into her rightful place as his second half.

"Any covering so thorough is an insult to a body such as this. You should wear only the finest of garments. They should display your charms as my attire does mine." Namor gestured down at the green trunks which crowned his sculpted legs—the bulge of his manhood now prominent within them. "I am a generous king. I would show my subjects the beauty of their new queen."

"I said you could have me," Sue said wryly, with a glint of the humor he also adored in her. "Not that you could keep me."

"After you have known the pleasures of Atlantis, you will keep yourself for me. And first and foremost of those pleasures, is Atlantis's prince!"

He kissed her, finally allowing himself the dominion of her that he had always craved, knowing she would allow herself the surrender she had always dreamed of. For a moment, Sue was overwhelmed: pressed to his muscular body, his mouth upon hers, his tongue challenging hers. The pleasure was abrupt, shocking in its immediacy, threatening in its intensity. Then she responded as he knew she would. Shifting her body against his, breasts warm against his cool skin, nipples hard against harder muscles.

He groped her, eager to learn of this new pleasure. The first lesson of endless knowledge to come. Her hair, short and golden, tickled his palms. Her ass, warm and exuberantly full, fit perfectly the cup of his fingers. He squeezed her and she swelled, shrill little cries of lust uninhibited. Almost but not quite embarrassingly full-throated. When he reached between her legs, grinding the unstable molecules of her husband's ostentatious costume into the ripe pinkness of her own needy cunt, she squealed for him with the lustiness of a wet dream.

"Your husband has not kissed you like this in quite some time," Namor mused, holding his lips carefully abreast from hers, still feeling the stinging heat upon her lips as she yearned for more. As undignified as it was, he enjoyed withholding from her just a little, torturing her with learning his pleasures a little slower than necessary, teaching her to truly value him above all others.

"No. No one has," Sue confessed. "There was just Reed, and then someone else, a boy... he was virile, and young, but..."

"Inexperienced," Namor scoffed. "Not truly understanding of all your needs."

"No," Sue confirmed, quickly nodding.

"And Reed remains negligent in his duties to you. To your desires."

"Yes," Sue confessed.

"Tell me: when was the last time he pleasured you with his mouth? When he kissed your sex as thoroughly as your mouth?" Namor traced Sue's lips with two fingertips, as if in demonstration. Enjoying how Sue's mouth instinctively opened, to suck upon the heft of his conjoined fingers. "Both a woman's lips should be well-kissed. Often, and enthusiastically. If both are not well-used, it is an insult to them."

There was a gleam in Sue's eyes as she answered, short words in-between kissing the knuckles of his hand. "Reed never eats me out. Sex with him is his penis in my vagina. It ends with him finishing. Eating my pussy, that would just be more time away from his lab—an unnecessary step in a procedure. Like playing music for his microscopes."

The thought of this magnificent creature going unfulfilled in any respect spurred Namor on. He wanted to please her anymore, not just as was due any of Namor's consorts, but to cut away all the gray years when she had not been his. "Then before I show you what you already know you will enjoy, I will teach you all that your womanhood is meant for it. I will show it the fit of a kingly tongue."

He knelt before her, his muscles seeming to burgeon even more than before as he fell upon one knee, then pulled at her shredded dishabille as if skinning a kill. He slid her leggings over her hips, leaving her panties resting across her hips. Stared at the mound of her sex—obvious through the thin cotton—and brought it down with a quick tug. He enjoyed the sight of her cunt quite fondly. There was a clear effort in how it had been shaved, which he appreciated, but it had not been fastidiously maintained and cleared to suggest that he was some catamite to find the sight of womanly hair distasteful.

"And does Reed tell you how beautiful your womanhood is?" Namor asked, probing it gingerly with a single finger. "How divine its feel? How fragrant its scent?"

Sue moaned as he cupped his hand over it. His big hand seemed to cocoon her sex, transforming it into something else with his warmth and pressure, like how a piece of coal could change into a diamond. "He—he barely seems to notice it! Thinks it's only a hole for disposing of his—of his..."

"It's a gateway," Namor insisted, his cupping hand skimming over her pussy, the heel of his hand exerting the slightest of pressures, making her meet him with canting pelvis, with grinding hips. It was like she was forcing her cunt into his hand, demanding he take possession of it. Namor grinned to himself. "A portal into all the pleasures that can be unlocked within you. A door through which we can find the satisfaction of all your desires. And I will unlock its beautiful secrets."

He kissed her cunt as determinedly as he had her mouth, laying claim to her with every swipe of his tongue, crushing her lips to his with one goal in mind: to show his utter, uncontested dominance of her. To prove it with his mastery of her pleasure, to show her that he and he alone could make her complete: bring together her fondest fantasies and the fulfillment of those taboo dreams.

Atop his tongue, Sue burned. She writhed and danced, kept from slipping, from collapsing mainly by his tightening arms around her hips. Her legs went straight, went slack, skidded on the floor as if she were trying to get away. His grip was firm, his hold tight. She was trapped in the torturous pleasure he gave her.

She moaned, her eyes closed, seeking to accept this ecstasy as much as she wanted to run from it. Now shoving her body down, her labia taking his tongue even more deeply in-between. She pushed her pelvis against him, letting his kiss slip smoothly over her clitoris. For all her squirming, all her contortions, he held his tongue deep within her. Knowing she had come already, he wanted to make her come again. And perhaps once more. After all, they had all night.

"Tell me, Susan," Namor began, the brief interruption to speak almost as bracing as his endless tonguing of her was. "Did your boy make you come so hard?"

"Never like this! Never like this! Ohhhhhh!" Sue had climaxed again.

Namor gently relaxed his hold on her, allowing her well-pleasured, her exhausted body to slide lower and lower down. He still knelt, but now she was prostrate beneath him, his willing victim, his creation in pleasure. He ran his hands over her nude, flustered body with simple adoration, enjoying the brisk heat of this creature he had transformed.

"I am the third man you have ever lain with," Namor said grandly. "And none of the others have done this to you. This is mine," he emphasized. "This—thrilling hunger that has awoken within you, it is mine alone."

Sue giggled at his ego, even more at his irritated look. "You haven't lain with me yet, O Prince."

"I will rectify that," he said, bringing himself over her. "Very hard."

"Not yet you won't. I want to kneel before the king..."

Namor was in sudden motion, pulling Sue up, resting her on her knees before him. Sue whooped in surprise at being manhandled, then quieted as she saw him haul his cock out from his trunks. Without the great mass distending them, they fell down around his ankles, Namor easily stepping out of them to present her with his manhood.

Sue stared, wetting her soft lips, her tongue lingering outside her mouth as if basking in its nearness to his big, lovely cock. Namor could see how she wanted it. He stroked her hair, her face, and her head almost bowed to his touch, wanting him to press himself to her hungering mouth, to have her suck and lick his manhood.

"Are you well-practiced at this? Or is this not a service you provide your dear husband?"

Sue squeezed her thighs together—the knowledge that she was adding yet another to the list of men she'd slept with, men who were not her husband, burning brightly in her. It wasn't exactly guilt.

"I do it for him," she teased softly, lifting her hand almost to his cock. "But it's a lot easier than yours will be."

"Oh?" Namor asked, holding himself stiffly erect as she reached up to his broad chest, patting her hand upon the rhythm of her heart. "Does my column offend you?"

"It's not going to be as easy to fit in my mouth..." She let the nails of her hand trail tantalizingly back down his belly, feeling the sparse hair rake over her fingertips just as she was scratching him. "I don't know if it will fit... anywhere..."

She scratched down through his pubic hair, the heel of her hand touching the base of his immense pole, then her palm curling down atop it, pushing ever so slightly down on his cock but unable to wrench it from its upright hardness. She kept her hand going, her fingernails tinging lightly over the thick, blue-veined shaft, throbbing aggressively at her touch, jerking heavily as she reached the ridge just below the steadily throbbing head that bulged out at her so impressively.

"We can make it fit," Namor said, again firmly petting her head, pushing her toward his cock, so close the gravitational pull it seemed to exert on her nearly sucked her in, trapping her slack mouth around its thick contours. "You want it to fit."

Sue looked up at him desperately, almost at the end of her rope. She could smell it, she could taste it...! "Not here," she moaned. "Your bed. I want to be... christened... there. My own bed's so cold... so lonely... night after night... I want to learn what yours is like..."

"And so you shall," Namor proclaimed, easily lifting her with one arm around her naked waist.

He carried her down a long hallway behind the throne, Sue clinging to him for comfort, the feel of his masculine body in her arms making it hard to think. It was like his mere presence forbid her from doubts. She could only feel the sleek firmness of his body, rejoice in his confident handling of her as he brought her up a flight of stairs to a bedchamber above the throne room.

The further he carried her from her scattered, shredded clothes, the more Sue felt as if she were dipping deeper and deeper into a dream—the less it seemed to be her that was doing all these things, the happy housewife, the good girl who loved her husband, her kids, her family. She felt like a new person. New and young and full of life...

There were no windows here. The room was ribbed and finished with organic detailing, like they were inside a mammoth clamshell. The bed dominated the room, yawning open with a red canopy, rose-colored sheets, peach pillows, bedposts of carved ivory surrounding the vast mattress. It looked like the whale's mouth opening to engulf Jonah, with plenty of room for however many women it took to sate Namor's appetites. Tonight, Sue would be buried in that huge bed, the only target for all of Namor's hunger.

He set her down at the foot of the bed. No longer being in his arms made Sue feel dizzy, and she had to cling to a bedpost to keep from spilling off the soft, plush sheets. Nervous, restless, she brushed a great bundle of her hair behind her ear , leaving the line of her jaw bare as she ground her teeth in agonized indecision.

Then, imperious as ever, Namor stepped up onto the bed and walked to the collection of pillows, spreading himself out on his back as if floating upon the surface of a lake. His cock had relaxed somewhat—still hard, but running along the line of his leg, weighty and trembling. With a gesture intended to be obeyed, he bade her come closer.

Without even looking, he heard the fall of her hands and knees upon the bedding. He lifted his dark head, watching Sue draw herself up between his thighs. He felt the warmth of her passage, the air disturbed by her motion swirling over his athletic legs. His cock burgeoned to its prior hardness, every nerve in his body straining toward those warm wet lips as they came closer and closer to his fleshy need. They would close down over his cock and he would watch as those lovely full lips, which had so many times protested her disinterest in his company, now suckled at his manhood with all the desire he had known them to hold.

"I hope this tastes good," Sue hinted. She was now mere inches from the firm throb of his cockhead, holding back with the momentary fear of whether it would really be as good as she had imagined. "Reed's tastes like..." She shook her head.

"It will taste of the finest specimens of femininity in all the Seven Seas," Namor assured her. "And soon, it will taste like you."

Sue's breath came faster. She craned her head, looking at his manhood from a new angle as if still trying to believe its size, and her hair tumbled from the awkward poise she'd shoved it into, spilling down golden as straw in the sunlight to lap at his muscular thigh. Her soft breath grazed over the contours of his shaft, rustling in the hairs of his stomach, traces of it as far as his nipples, she panted so.

She rested her weight on her elbows, Her hands gripped his cock, both of them easily finding room for their grips. She stroked him, feeling the small anticipatory exhale of delight that went through him with the smallest, most subtle motion of her hands. She adjusted his cock so it pointed at her instead of straight up, the cock fighting her, its weight erection pressing hard on her interlocked fingers. God, if she loosened her grip it could almost break free...!

Namor groaned suddenly, teeth gritted, face contorted. Without missing a beat, Sue's head had dipped and now that warm, pink tongue of hers was flicking lightly over his cockhead, sampling the precum she had provoked from him. He hadn't expected her to be so bold, but truly, he should've known that Susan Storm would be full of surprises.

Another wash of her tongue and his loins thrust involuntarily upward. Her wetly glistening lips were like fire that didn't burn, her mouth melting over his cock like warm butter, drowning him in this pleasant sensation at the very beginning of its intensity. He reached down and tangled his hands thickly in her hair, taking a moment just to enjoy its exotic feel, then guiding her in starting the rhythm of a slowly bobbing head.