A Sorcerer’s Work Is Never Done
characters: Stephen Strange x Female Reader (established relationship), Wong
rating: general audience, fluff, romance, pining, frustration, Stephen being head over heels in love
word count: 2.1k
Stephen leaned his head onto the sofa back and propped his feet up on the coffee table, allowing the tension of the past two weeks to drain away at last. With any luck, the two of you would be spending an entire, uneventful evening together—and frankly, you both had more than earned it. Between the two of you, you’d been battling multiple incursions by malevolent forces from other realities, around the clock. One of you returning to the Sanctum, weary and battle worn, while the other was inevitably headed back on duty. Each of you giving your all to shore up the worldwide protective spells and wards that the Mystic Fraternity of Kamar-Taj had maintained for over a two thousand years. That vital mission had become more personally complicated due to your recent marriage, which necessitated that you work on separate teams.
But finally, there came a break in the seeming endless engagements. Earth’s defenders had finally turned the tide—so that this night, for the first it what felt like ages, you were both home free to indulge in one another’s company.
When Stephen had realized fortune’s good favor had finally turned your way, he was quick to suggest a plan for the evening. You had eagerly agreed—with the proviso that you needed a long, hot shower first.
“Well now–I could join you and scrub your back, you know,” he had suggested, arching his brows suggestively, hungry to have you to himself, “And, uh, any other parts you can’t quite reach yourself…”
“Oh, I know you can, darling,” you had smirked, “But as tempting as that sounds, I just want to turn the shower head onto the strongest massage setting, and let it wash over me for as long as the hot water holds out.”
Knowing that a certain look might be enough to persuade you otherwise, Stephen had titled his head as though he was a young boy admonished, then raised his eyes in a sidelong look that seemed to be a plea for a little mercy. You had shaken your head and stepped into him, sliding your arms around his neck. “How about this? Give me a half hour to make myself presentable…”
“You’re always presentable, sweetheart,” he’d husked, landing his hands on your waist to pull you flush against him, “And I’ve been missing you so goddamn much…”
“I’ve missed you too,” you had sighed, the softness of your upturned face as irresistible to him as on the day he had realized that he’d fallen in love with you. “But we have the whole night to ourselves, and I’d like to get…reacquainted…” Your eyes had reflected the invitation inherent in that single word, and Stephen had drawn a long, slow breath in an attempt at true patience as you continued, “…in all of our favorite ways. Once I feel like a woman again, and not just another battle wearied sorceress.”
