Disclaimer: All characters depicted in this story are eighteen years of age or older. Any sexual content involves only consenting adults. This is a work of fiction.
A Marvelous Devil.
Chapter 51: Out of Our Depth.
Mary Jane Watson.
The camera flash strobed, momentarily blinding me before the photo lights rushed back in.
"Perfect. Hold that," Marcus called out from behind the lens.
I held the pose, keeping my chin tilted just enough to show my best side. This was it; this shoot would push me toward what I knew I was capable of.
I just needed someone to give me that opportunity, but in this industry, those chances were hard to get. Especially when one didn't want to offer what some directors asked of certain models.
Marcus was a legendary editorial photographer, the kind of industry titan who didn't even know my name, much less have any reason to answer my emails. But the second I wrote that the unfairly handsome Dante Andromalius was willing to shoot again, Marcus had personally booked Studio 3 and brought his best crew.
Just like the other twenty publishers I contacted. Literally every single one of them answered my emails. It was like they had some damn alerts to see if his name appeared somewhere.
It was so damn unfair to see someone who wasn't even interested in the industry make the movers and shakers act like a pack of hungry hyenas. I obviously got it. There was something about Dante that just... pulled you in.
That didn't mean that it didn't sting.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I just hadn't accounted for the audience.
I couldn't help but look past the camera to the sidelines. Tandy Bowen, Dante's actual girlfriend, was sitting on a high stool next to the catering table. She was drinking an iced coffee, her legs crossed, watching the entire shoot with an excited expression.
I gulped nervously, before forcing a confident smile for the camera. I hadn't expected her to be here. It was just a job, but I knew I was enjoying it more than I should have, considering he was taken.
Hell, ever since I broke up with Harry, I hadn't dated anyone in almost a year. But as exciting as this felt, the guilt was already eating at me.
"Okay, let's bring Dante in," Marcus directed, waving his hand.
Dante walked onto the plain white background with a calm I couldn't match. He wore a tailored black suit that fit him perfectly.
"Set one. Give me some power," Marcus instructed. "MJ, you're the ambitious executive. Dante, you own the board."
I squared my shoulders and walked toward him. Keeping a professional distance, posing like every other pair of models in the world. Nothing strange was happening here.
The air in the room was charged as I locked eyes with his deep blues. I knew exactly what I was doing, angling my body to make my legs look longer while holding a serious expression.
Dante didn't even have to try. He simply stood there with a bored smirk, and the camera absolutely loved him. The first set flew by before I even noticed.
"Incredible," Marcus murmured, reviewing the digital monitor. "The contrast is insane. But it's too inflexible. Let's change the wardrobe. I want less fabric; let's try something a bit more daring."
I nodded, heading to the pop-up changing tent. When I emerged in a tight crimson dress that stopped midway up my thighs, Dante was already waiting.
He had lost the jacket. His dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and the sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms.
My breath froze in my throat. I honestly barely avoided whistling in appreciation. He was much, much more athletic than I expected. At a simple glance, he looked a lot like Harry's body, lean, fit, but not particularly a fitness paragon.
But right now? He looked better than freaking Peter. I had only seen him shirtless once, when he forgot to close his curtains and was in a hurry to get to school a couple of years ago. How no one else had noticed that he was built like that was beyond me, but my nerdy friend was jacked. Dante was still even more so.
Tandy was one lucky bitch.
"Stand closer this time," Marcus ordered excitedly. "MJ, put your hand on his chest. Dante, hand on her waist."
I moved directly in front of him. The moment my palm laid flat against his exposed chest, a jolt of electricity raced up my arm. His skin was unnaturally warm.
As his hand settled firmly on my waist, my professional facade cracked.
"Look at each other," Marcus coaxed. "Give me tension. Like you share a secret."
I tilted my head up. Dante's blue eyes stared into mine. There was an ocean of amusement swimming inside his gaze.
He knew exactly what this closeness was doing to me. My imagination instantly betrayed me, conjuring images of those hands moving lower, of that chest pressing against me in a much darker room.
My cheeks reddened.
"Yes! That flush is perfect!" Marcus yelled over the shutter clicks. "The chemistry is unreal, girl! MJ, lean your weight into him. Trust him."
I leaned forward. My breasts pressed against his chest. I bit my lip, trying to control the humiliating dampness gathering between my thighs.
I was a professional, damn it. I was supposed to be in control.
"Stop," Marcus suddenly lowered the camera. He turned to his creative assistant. "The commercial angle isn't enough... not when they have this chemistry. We need an intimate set. Carlos, be a dear and pull the lingerie."
Carlos, one of the aides, nodded firmly, looking excited at what they were witnessing.
I would have felt a little more uncomfortable, but their looks weren't particularly focused on me; they were on Dante.
Not that it was a surprise. Everyone knew what Marcus and Carlos liked. It was probably why they were so good at their job.
Panic shot through my body at the director's words.
Intimate?
I glanced nervously at the sidelines. Tandy was still there. She had finished her coffee and was now leaning forward, resting her chin in her hand. At least she wasn't glaring at me, just grinning excitedly.
…that made me even more nervous. I hadn't done a risqué photoshoot because I didn't want to offer that to the small-time agencies I had worked with. But I couldn't say no to someone of Marcus's caliber. Not when he was praising the shoot like this, to the point of extending it from what we had planned.
He had agreed to do only two sets at first, just out of curiosity. But here he was, asking for more.
It made my gut churn with guilt. I sent a mental wave of apologies directed entirely at Tandy.
I was only doing my job. I wasn't trying to steal him. I wasn't a damn homewrecker.
The fact was, a deeply treacherous part of me was ecstatic. Another part of me was jealous because I had met him first.
But he was so damn… him that I chickened out. I didn't expect someone like him to go for someone like me for something serious. I had just broken up with Harry back then, but I had my pride, and I didn't do one-night stands. And it felt a bit dirty, like I'd be selling my body for the help he gave me.
But I didn't even try, believing that it would be a moot point.
But he didn't go for the usual women successful men like him usually preferred. He got together with Tandy.
It didn't take long to learn about her, considering that she went to the same uni as I did. She was… troubled, but at this point she was a completely different person from what she used to be.
And that only made Dante even more attractive to my eyes, because damn. She used to be a junky. A known, petty thief amongst her classmates.
A complete loner that might have ended up dead after messing with someone she shouldn't have.
And here she was. A girl beautiful enough to make other big-name models jealous.
Hell, I just knew that Marcus would end up offering her a job after tonight was over. He had been gushing about her before he started working with me. And the part I hated the most?
She was all natural, as much as I wanted to say that Dante had paid one of the best doctors on the country to fix her problems.
She was just so damn beautiful.
Dante was a fucking miracle worker.
Ten minutes later, I walked back onto the set wearing a black lace set that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The studio should have felt ten degrees colder, but I didn't even notice because my body was burning up.
Dante was waiting for me. Completely shirtless, because of course. And the show he was giving made my mouth go dry.
"On the floor," Marcus ordered, his voice barely a murmur, but the excitement in his tone only became more noticeable. "Dante, sit against the prop couch. MJ, sit between his legs and put your back to his chest."
My legs felt like jelly as I lowered myself to the floor. I positioned myself exactly as told. Dante's thighs bracketed my hips. I leaned backward, my bare shoulder blades meeting the solid wall of his chest.
"Good. Dante, put your hand flat on her stomach."
His large hand slid around my waist, his fingers splaying across my abdomen. I gasped aloud as a shiver traveled from my toes all the way to my scalp. His pale complexion was similar to mine, and to my eyes, it looked like his hand melded into my stomach.
The shutter fired rapidly.
"MJ, tilt your head back. Look up at him."
I obeyed, feeling a heat on my cheeks as our faces got even closer. I could feel his breath ghosting over my lips. I wasn't acting anymore. I was genuinely, pathetically aroused.
And Tandy was watching every single second of it.
"We need more texture," Marcus suddenly announced, practically vibrating with excitement. "Get the oil. I want a wet look."
A makeup assistant sprinted over, quickly spritzing my chest, shoulders, and Dante's torso with a body oil that left us glinting.
She had a hint of jealousy in her eyes as she looked at me, and she took her time 'helping' Dante.
When she moved away, Tandy gasped in surprise, a bright grin on her face as she clapped. The moisture made the lace cling to my skin. It felt incredibly erotic and wrong but right at the same time. Like a high-budget video production... the kind I promised myself I'd never do.
"Last set," Marcus murmured. "Give me everything. Dante, lean in. MJ, part your lips."
His hand squeezed imperceptibly on my stomach as I shuddered, my hips instinctively rocking backward into him.
Dante leaned his head down. His lips touched the lobe of my ear.
"You planned this whole production to use my fame," he whispered, his voice rattling my body. "It's not often someone tries to use me like that."
A whimpering sigh escaped my parted lips. My eyes fluttered shut as the camera flash exploded against my eyelids.
I was shaking so hard I couldn't form a coherent thought.
The ambition that brought me here was entirely eclipsed by the man holding me against the floor.
He was completely calm. Like it was just a game for him.
A game I had already lost.
My hips didn't follow my screaming commands as I ground against Dante, his hand almost burning my waist as it caressed my skin, and I got lost in his eyes, which were full of amusement.
Biting down a moan, my hands found his neck as I hugged him with wide eyes.
How on earth did it come to this?! And why did it feel so fucking good?!
My substantial chest pushed forward, and Tandy let out a giggle.
"You're beautiful," Dante commented calmly, as if I wasn't acting like a pathetic virgin. "Can't say I expected this to become like this, but it's fun, right? It certainly begs for a repeat."
The friction was simply too much. The heat coming from his smooth skin seeped directly into my body, overriding every last ounce of my professional restraint.
My hips moved entirely on their own, chasing that agonizing need deep inside my core.
Grounding against him again, harder this time, a pitiful sound escaped from my throat. My legs clamped instinctively around his waist, shivering uncontrollably as the tension wound tightly in my lower belly.
He didn't pull away. He just leaned in, pressing his cool brow against my burning one, his eyes staring right through me while he let me completely unravel.
And pathetically, I came. A wave of pleasure crashed through my body. The kind I hadn't felt in a long time.
My toes curled, my thighs trembling intensely against his hips as I came right there on the studio floor, gasping for air exactly like I had been underwater for a long time.
I could do nothing but hug his neck, my mind completely blanking out as the aftershocks wrecked my body.
When my vision finally cleared, the reality of the room broke over me.
Panic drenched me in a way I had never felt before. What did I just do?!
My chest heaved as I slowly turned my head away from Dante, feeling the soaked underwear. My thighs were damp, making sure I wouldn't have doubted that it really happened instead of being a horny daydream.
I couldn't help but freeze. My mind was ready for the stunned gasps, the judging stares, and the second-hand embarrassment of the supposedly professional photoshoot that probably had a picture of my face mid orgasm.
But... nothing. Nothing of the sort happened.
"Absolutely brilliant!" Marcus cheered, lowering his camera with a massive grin. "That's a wrap, everyone! That tension, that vulnerability… pure art! Great job, MJ, you're even better than the usual models I work with. I'll make sure to contact you later!"
The lighting techs clapped. The makeup artist smiled, moving to pack up her brushes. I looked at them, my street smarts desperately searching for the lie.
Industry people like them shouldn't be able to hide their shock at what they had just seen. Yes, things were supposed to feel charged during a photoshoot, but not to the point of having a shameful orgasm in the middle of the room. But their eyes showed nothing but praise.
It was like they hadn't seen it. They hadn't heard my whimpers or noticed the erratic grinding of my hips.
A sickening wave of fear, guilt, and self-disgust came over me while I scrambled to look at the sidelines.
Oh God, Tandy.
But Dante's girlfriend was already staring at me with a bright grin on her face. She gave a slight wave of acknowledgment, looking like nothing was wrong. Like I hadn't in fact just orgasmed against her boyfriend on the floor.
I looked at her, my breath halting as my mind completely short-circuited.
Why wasn't she angry? Did no one notice what had just happened?!
And worse... why did her complete obliviousness to my shameful display send a sudden thrill shooting straight down my spine?
I bit my lip in embarrassment before forcing a smile. I thanked Marcus politely for the offer of more work with someone like him, but the soaring excitement I would once have felt at those words never came.
My legs shivered as I slumped against Dante's body. The heat in my stomach decreased just a bit, but it didn't disappear as I expected.
Why did the shame make it even hotter?
And why on earth did Dante have to be so frustratingly perfect? Because beneath the thin material of his underwear, pressed directly against my thoroughly ruined panties, I could feel something thick, long, and unquestionably hard resting exactly where it felt best.
Nick Fury.
There was a very vicious migraine building behind my remaining eye. It was the kind of headache that usually required a stiff drink and a dark room, neither of which I had the luxury of entertaining.
As much as I wanted to send everyone here the fuck away and think of a solution in peace.
I kept my eye fixed on the massive digital monitor dominating the secure briefing room.
The footage was completely silent, recorded through Agent Barton's specialized optic-scope sniper rifle and by one of our satellites.
Part of me dreaded how my best agents would react if the video had sound. I still remember Carol back in 1995. It wasn't the kind of thing anyone forgot easily.
Making a note to send Barton for a psych eval when he returned, I focused once more on my notes before turning once more to the screen.
I watched as a man clad in a suit casually batted away a beam of energy none of our analysts could identify. The mountain behind him simply ceased to exist, breaking into a rain of fragmented rubble. Then gravity inverted, space folded, and a shockwave leveled the Afghan desert into a perfectly smooth crater of fused glass.
The pager deep in my pocket felt heavier than usual, but as much as I wanted to use it immediately, I wasn't sure it would help at all. Carol was the strongest person I'd ever met. She could fly through warships like they were made of paper. But I'd never seen her bend gravity. I'd never seen her fold space. I had no idea how she'd fare against someone who could.
I paused the video right as the man in the suit floated to the ground, entirely unharmed.
"Play it again," I ordered, reclining in my chair.
"Sir, we have reviewed the footage fourteen times," Maria Hill sighed. She stood by the primary console, tense, hiding her nervousness behind cold professionalism, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the table.
She was afraid. Most present were, myself included. My blank expression didn't change, but I knew I wouldn't sleep until I had an answer. Any kind of answer.
"And I'm going to watch it until my brain figures out how to classify that thing, Hill," I said flatly. "Play it again."
The video looped. And the mountain vanished once more.
I rubbed my temple and looked away from the screen to address the other two men in the room. Agent Phil Coulson stood by the doorway, his hands resting on his lap as he did his best to appear calm. Sitting across from me, looking completely exhausted, was the android replica of Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan.
The fact that the android managed to appear exhausted told everything about how advanced he was. He didn't have the idea that he wasn't the original Dum Dum.
"Let's summarize the mess sitting in my lobby," I began, tapping my fingers on the table. "Coulson. Give me the breakdown of the influx of tourists."
"Twenty-four hostages," Coulson reported smoothly. "We're assuming they're not lying and were under the control of a Ten Rings terrorist cell. The medical evaluation supports that. However, all of them are currently stabilizing."
"And how did they bypass the most advanced security grid on the planet to appear directly inside of the Triskelion?"
"They didn't trigger any alarms, Director. CCTV footage shows a sudden manifestation of some kind of black fog. The hostages simply dropped out of it." Coulson paused, consulting his datapad. "Psychological evaluations are ongoing, but their testimonies are consistent. They claim an angel of light descended upon the terrorist camp and slaughtered their captors with a localized sun."
Hill scoffed quietly. "An angel."
"Their words, not mine," Coulson corrected neutrally. "They described a beautiful blonde woman with wings made of blinding light. She executed the terrorists in a brutal, efficient way that suggests experience and comfort with the use of lethal force. During the massacre, a man stepped out of the shadows, opened a portal made of that same black fog, and dropped them here after watching the 'show'."
I let out a slow breath. I didn't believe in angels or God for that matter. I believed in anomalies, enhanced individuals, and alien threats.
The woman Clint saw turning the desert into a glass bowl wasn't a divine messenger, considering she fell under the control of a man who could only be the mysterious Mandarin. She was a weapon, and the man who commanded her was the one pulling the trigger.
"Which brings us to the incident," I said, turning my gaze to Hill. "You want to explain why one of our agents is currently in the med bay?"
Hill straightened up, but her glance at Dum Dum made it clear she was confused. "Standard protocol, Director. The hostages arrived carrying several items from the camp. One of them, a man named Sun-Tao, was holding a stack of journals. Agent Sitwell attempted to confiscate them for intelligence processing following our procedure. Sun-Tao resisted."
"He didn't just resist," Dugan grunted from his chair. "The kid screamed a threat and knew things he shouldn't."
I looked at the veteran operative. "Elaborate."
"Sitwell tried to yank the books out of his hands," Dugan said, his gruff voice carrying in the quiet room. "The kid panicked and started shouting my name. Said the man in the fog gave him a message for me specifically. That if anyone tried to take his gift, he would visit us personally."
The room turned completely silent. For a minute, no one moved.
A threat from a terrorist was normal for us. A threat from an entity that could vaporize geography without breaking a sweat was not.
"You intervened," I stated.
"Damn right I did, Nick," Dugan nodded firmly. "I ordered Sitwell to stand down and let the kid keep the journals. After what we saw on that screen, I'm not going to be the reason that bastard decides to test the building's durability. The agent didn't look particularly enthused to follow orders, and that led to a more direct intervention."
I didn't reprimand him. Dugan had made the right call. S.H.I.E.L.D. existed to protect humanity, but poking a sleeping god or whatever with a stick just to see what happened was entirely above our current pay grade.
Because people like them could act like gods against normal humans. I knew that all too well.
"Bring him in," I ordered.
Coulson tapped his earpiece. A moment later, the briefing room doors slid open. Two security officers escorted an exhausted man into the room. The supposed Sun-Tao held a stack of leather journals to his chest as if they were the most important thing in the world. He looked around the high-tech room with wide eyes before his gaze settled on Dugan. He visibly relaxed a fraction.
"Mr. Sun-Tao," I said, keeping my voice as gentle as I could manage. "I am Director Fury. You are safe. No one is going to take your property."
Sun-Tao gulped hard, nodding rapidly.
"I need you to tell me exactly what you saw," I asked.
"He... he was a foreigner," Sun-Tao stammered, his accent thick but understandable. "Tall. Very pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes. Inhumanly perfect. He didn't fight against the terrorists. He just stood there wherever he took us and watched the angel burn the camp. He called her his light."
His light? That suggested he cared about her.
It was the same man, then. "And his exact words regarding S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"He said... he said my master was a good man who wanted me to have these. He threw me into the portal and told me to look for Dum Dum. To tell him he would visit personally if you tried to take away my gift. He said he wouldn't like what he would have to do against someone who meddles in his dealings."
"Dealings," I repeated the word out loud.
I gave Coulson a brief nod. He moved forward, gently guiding the terrified man back toward the doorway. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sun-Tao. We have arranged comfortable quarters for you until we can safely repatriate you."
"You have to be careful," he said after a moment of hesitation. "What the angel did… it could have ended… wrong. She did something I thought was impossible."
When the doors closed behind them, the silence returned, heavier than before.
"Do we have video of what he's talking about?"
Everyone shook their head.
"Director," Hill said, stepping away from the console.
Her frustration was finally showing through her professionalism.
"We cannot ignore this. We have an unidentified hostile operating on a global scale. We don't have the weaponry to counter that kind of enemy. What about the Avenger Initiative?"
I let out a harsh bark of laughter. "The Initiative? Commander Hill, the World Security Council is currently stalling my funding and treating the Initiative like a waste of resources. I have an archer with a very good eye, a superspy currently untangling a mess in Eastern Europe, and a possible legend we're still looking for somewhere under the ocean."
I pointed a finger at the frozen monitor, at the man hovering above the crater.
"That is not a man in a metal suit like whatever Stark created. That is not a biological science experiment gone wrong like Banner. That is a being capable of leveling a city with the same ease we eat dinner. The Council thinks giving me a strike team is a waste of resources. They have no idea what the world actually looks like."
Hill crossed her arms and glared at the wall. She knew I was right.
I turned my attention entirely to Dugan. The LMD had been unusually quiet since the footage started playing. He sat slouched forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor with an expression of deep discomfort.
"Alright, Timothy," I said quietly. "You've met him. You sat in his café in New York. We know his name is Dante Andromalius. You made the almost empty file we have on him."
Dugan didn't look up. He brushed a hand over his face and let out a resigned sigh.
For a machine housing the consciousness of a veteran soldier, he looked incredibly human at that very moment. He looked terrified.
"Lord, forgive me for even saying this out loud," Dugan muttered, looking up at the ceiling for a moment.
He straightened his posture, meeting my remaining eye. "I don't think he's human, Nick. He isn't an alien experiment or a mutant. When I went to his place, he showed me a book."
"A book," Coulson prompted in confusion.
"Yeah. An old one. Really old." Dugan shuddered, the memory clearly violating every belief he held from his original self. "He showed me passages. Things that aren't in any religious book I ever read. He casually mentioned that Mephisto… the being that inspired the devil we know of from the bible… had an affair with Adam's first wife, Lilith. He talked about biblical history like he was recounting some amusing gossip."
Hill stared at him in disbelief. "You think that he's truly a demon."
"I don't think that mountain cared about what label we use," Dugan snapped back, defensive. "You saw the footage, Commander. Does that look like parlor tricks to you? He knows everything. He knows who I am, he knows what S.H.I.E.L.D. is, and he doesn't care. He operates on his own rules."
I leaned forward, piecing the puzzle together. "Sun-Tao mentioned 'dealings'. You also mentioned in your report that he offers something like that but couldn't be sure."
"That's exactly what he says he does," Dugan confirmed. "He runs a café that attracts the most desperate, ambitious people in the city as long as they are capable of believing in the occult. He grants favors, as long as they can pay."
I looked back at the monitor. The footage captured Tony Stark flying in a military helicopter alongside Rhodes and Barton.
"Stark," I deduced.
Coulson nodded in agreement. "It fits, Director. Dum Dum report said that Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan entered the café the same day he visited. They had a private meeting with him."
Hill's eyes widened as the implications set in. "Potts made a deal with him."
"To save her boss," I finished.
The migraine finally bloomed into a full ache. I closed my eye, pressing the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.
She did that because no one was doing anything to save Stark from that cave.
This was the absolute worst-case scenario. It was one thing to track rogue scientists or hunt down terrorists across the globe. We knew how to fight men. We knew how to manipulate politicians. We could even contain anomalies if we threw enough reinforced bullets at them.
Even the strongest mutants bled if we tried hard enough. Magneto knew that well enough.
But dealing with a thing that handed out miracles in exchange for payments? An entity that casually threatened S.H.I.E.L.D. by using the name of one of my top operatives?
"Director?" Coulson asked. "What are our orders regarding Mr. Andromalius?"
I opened my eye, looking at my most trusted agents.
"Nothing," I said.
Hill blinked in disbelief. "Nothing? Sir, he's operating on US soil and just destroyed a foreign combat zone."
"And if you try to put a bag over his head and bring him for questioning, he will turn the Triskelion into a smoking crater," I deadpanned, feeling my head throb. "He sent us a message, Hill. He dropped twenty-four witnesses in our lobby to show us exactly what he can do, and then explicitly told us not to meddle. We are going to listen. For now."
I stood up, adjusting my coat. This would not stay this way. But now? We couldn't do anything more than increase the patrols around the area until we learned more about the unknown.
It's not like I could get away with using a WMD inside our own soil. And seeing how he could teleport, I couldn't even be sure I would get him.
"Coulson. Keep an eye on Stark when he gets back. Let the military handle the PR victory. Do not approach Potts or Hogan regarding their visit to the café. Keep the previos plan in motion."
"Understood, sir."
"Dugan," I continued, turning to the veteran. "You are our only asset who has successfully interacted with him and walked away. If he reaches out, you answer. Do not antagonize him."
"You're not making it easy for me," Dugan grunted, shaking his head. "He makes me uncomfortable."
The corner of my mouth twitched at his expression.
I turned back to the frozen monitor one last time. The image of the blonde woman with wings of light was seared into my brain alongside the pale man who commanded her.
"We don't engage," I told the room, my voice projecting over the room. "Not yet, but I want answers, people. Triple the agents around the area. I want to know everything he eats, when he sleeps, and who the people he's making deals with are. Everything."
"And when we know enough, Sir?" Coulson asked.
"I don't know, Agent. Be safe out there."
Everyone nodded, and my head ached one last time.
I needed a motherfucking drink.
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