Omovember day 10: Formal wear (Reed Richards)
Uhhh pretend this is what he's wearing
The Baxter Building’s annual charity gala. A necessary thing to ensure further aid to the Future Foundation.
Sue had insisted Reed join her while Johnny and Ben were off attending their own personal 'events'. “It’s good for the team’s image, Reed. And it’s for a good cause.” She had said. He’d relented, of course. He always did for her.
However, for a man whose natural habitat was a lab filled with the hum of quantum reactors and the scent of ozone, this was a special kind of torture.
Sue had picked out his tuxedo, a simple, black number that felt like a prison compared to the comfortable, familiar embrace of his blue stretch-fabric uniform and freely swishing lab coat he wore religiously. The starched shirt collar was a vise. The cummerbund was an unwelcome squeeze around his middle, a constant, nagging reminder of the other, far more urgent sensation that had been building lower down.
His wife, Sue Storm, on the other hand was a marvel of vision in powdered blue silk, a goddess holding court across the room.
She caught his eye and flashed him a warm, knowing smile.
She knew how much he hated these things. Her smile said, ‘Just a little longer, darling.’ He offered a tight smile in return, his mind focused on a far more pressing equation than any he’d scribbled on a chalkboard recently.
Three flutes of champagne and a fair amount of water to help counteract the affects and remain sober.
But an input always had an output.
This particular output was a desperate, urgent pressure building low in his abdomen, a weight that was becoming the centre of his entire universe.
He shifted his weight minutely from one foot to the other, the slight movement sending a sharp, warning jolt through his groin. He had to stay still. He clenched every muscle he could isolate, from his thighs to his core, creating a desperate, internal dam. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. The murmur of the crowd faded into a dull buzz, the only sound the thunderous, rhythmic pulse of his own heart echoing in his ears.
He was Mister Fantastic, and he was about to have a very public, very humiliating accident.
Focus on the science, he told himself. Think of quark matrices. The tensile strength of adamantium. But his brilliant mind, capable of conceiving trans-dimensional travel, could only circle back to the simple, agonizing awareness of his own straining bladder.
"Reed, darling, you’re scowling at the ambassador’s wife," a smooth, familiar voice said.
He turned, the motion sending a small, dangerous wave through his core. Sue was there; her smile was for the crowd, but her eyes were all for him, sharp with concern.
Sue’s hand, cool and familiar, brushed against his arm. "You’re doing the thing," she murmured, her voice a low hum beside his ear.
"What thing?" he asked, his own voice tighter than usual.
"The ‘I’m-solving-a-universal-constant-but-my-shoes-are-too-tight’ thing. Which I know for a fact is actually the ‘I-need-to-pee-desperately’ thing." Her lips curved into a knowing smile, "you’re practically vibrating, Reed."
He let out a strained breath, a soft hiss through his teeth. "The restroom line..."
"Is a mile long and full of people who will want to talk your ear off about quantum entanglement." She squeezed his arm, "I have a better idea."
He allowed her to move them both. Reed should question what Sue had in mind but, at this point, he'd take any aid. He moved stiffly, each step a careful, measured negotiation with the urgent pressure threatening to spill over.
The sensation was a live wire, a pulsing ache that made it difficult to think of anything else. He was hyper-aware of the slight jostle of the crowd and the way his own body moved with a fragile, liquid heaviness.
She led him to a secluded area of the room, dominated by a large, ornate pot containing a towering fern. The leaves were lush and thick.
"What does it look like I’m doing? I’m saving my brilliant husband from himself." Her smile was a secret just for him. "Now, stand still. And be quiet."
Her brow furrowed in concentration. With a faint shimmer, visible only to him from this angle, she had made them both invisible.
"Here," she whispered, her voice directly in his ear now, a thrilling intimacy in the middle of the oblivious crowd. "Right here. No one will see."
"Sue, I can’t just...on a plant...at the...here," he protested, but it was weak, his scientific mind already calculating the absorbency of the soil and the drainage efficiency of the pot.
"You can," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Her hands found his shoulders, turning him to face the plant. Then one hand slid down his back, over the rigid fabric of his tuxedo jacket, and lower, pressing firmly on the small of his back, urging him a step closer to the large ceramic pot.
"And you will. Unless you want to give those trashy magazines Johnny reads a very front-page story."
The threat was playful but a very real reality he could face.
He fumbled with the stiff formalwear, his usually deft fingers clumsy and shaking.
Sue’s hand covered his, stilling them. “Let me.” Her voice was a velvet command. With effortless efficiency, she undid the button and zipper of his trousers, her fingers brushing against the strained fabric beneath.
"Go on," she urged, her voice a husky command. Her form pressed against his back, her hands resting on his hips to steady him. "Let go, Reed."
It was the permission, the command in her tone, that broke the last of his resolve. With a shuddering groan that was pure, unadulterated relief, he did just so.
A hot, powerful stream came from him, arcing into the pot with a sound that was deafeningly loud to his own ears.
A rushing, steady torrent hitting damp soil. He braced one hand against the wall, his head dropping forward as the immense, coiling pressure inside him finally, blessedly, unfurled. It was a release so profound it felt euphoric, a physical pleasure that eclipsed any intellectual pursuit. The sheer, visceral sensation of emptying his bursting bladder, the hot flow continuing with relentless force, left him light-headed.
Sue held him through it. He could feel her smile against his temple.
"That’s it," she murmured, her hand moving in a slow, steadying circle on his back. "All of it. Every last drop for me."
When it was finally over, he stayed there for a long moment, leaning into her, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume.
She tucked him back into his trousers with a possessiveness that made his breath catch all over again, her fingers lingering for a moment too long. She did up his fly, her knuckles brushing against him.
The world shimmered back into existence around them,the light, the noise, and the crowd as Sue dropped her invisibility field. They were just a couple standing by the wall.
Reed looked at her, his eyes wide, his face flushed. He was speechless. Eternally grateful.
Sue simply smoothed the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, her expression one of serene satisfaction. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear.
"Now then, shall we?" She asked, extending her hand for Reed to take hold of.
