Title: Mine
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Captain Hammer/Dr. Horrible
Word Count: ~1,300
Summary: Dr. Horrible may not feel a thing, but Captain Hammer needs his attention and will do anything to get it.
Warnings: Rape/Non-con, violence, dark themes.
Written for: dark_fest using the prompt I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name. I'm also using this fic for the fanfic100 prompt 084. He.
A/N: Set post Act III. This is actually the third version of this story, so thank you so much to smthwallflower who not only beta'd it once, but three separate times. Yes, I'm a pain in the arse, and she's absolutely awesome and puts up with me xD *kudos-five!*   

 

You see him leave the ELE building shortly after the sun sets. He crosses the street and you silently follow him, keeping to the shadows. You’ve been watching him – following him – for months now, waiting for the opportune moment.

You want to destroy him.

In your heart you know it goes beyond normal hatred for him as your nemesis, beyond even the revenge that’s been festering in your heart ever since he defeated you.

You need him to want you, to hate you. You need to be the focus of his life. You’re the hero; you shine bright like the sun as everyone else spins around you in orbit. Even the cold, dark planet, millions of miles away, is tethered by the sun; and even a super villain’s life is focussed on you.

Except now, he’s escaping; the dark planet spinning off into space.

You can’t let him.

He walks into an alleyway, and you know the opportune moment has arrived.

“Dr. Horrible,” you call out. He turns, but there’s no surprise, no shock on his face. You vow to change that.

You punch him and he crumples to the floor like a rag doll, his goggles knocked off, the glass cracked. You kick him once, twice, in the ribs, your boot connecting with his torso with a satisfying thud, but he doesn’t try to twist away.

It’s like he doesn’t feel it.

You pick him up by the front of his lab coat and shove him up against the wall, the back of his head colliding with the bricks. He still doesn’t react.

It’s like you’re not even there.

You try a different tactic. One hand remains at his chest, twisted in the thick red fabric as the other entangles in his hair, pushing his cheek against rough surface of the wall behind him. “You killed her,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “You killed Penny.”

You release your grip on his hair and he turns his head to face you. There’s nothing in his eyes, only a dead acknowledgement of your words.

He already knows he’s a killer. You were sure that that would hurt him, but there’s nothing, no pain, no anger.

It’s like you can’t hurt him.

You’ve always connected with him through pain. The more you hurt him, the more he hates you. The more he hates you, the more obsessed he becomes and the more time he spends on you. You don’t know why you need to matter to him, only that you could never let him ignore you.

If he doesn’t care he’s been hurt, you mean nothing to him. You can’t let yourself mean nothing, not to him, not to anyone.

You need him to acknowledge you. You have to make him feel something, anything. You want to make him scream your name.

You thought that bringing up Penny would do it; he’d been so obsessed with her, so in love with her. You think for a few moments before inspiration strikes. “You’ll never get to fuck her,” you murmur. “Never get to have her like you wanted.” You laugh a little at the thought. “Not that you’d know what that feels like, would you?” you sneer. “Poor little desperate Billy, never managed to get laid. What happened? Too little alcohol in the world to get a girl drunk enough?”

He shakes his head slightly.

“Or…” You smile predatorily. “Or were you waiting for Penny?” you whisper.

His gaze drops to the floor and your grin widens. “Oh Billy buddy, saving yourself for her? How… pathetic.” Your free hand trails suggestively down his chest and across his stomach to rest on his hip. Your grip tightens and you pull him closer to you, his body flush to yours. You grind against him, watching his face carefully. There’s a flicker in his eyes – fear? Disgust? You don’t know, and you find you don’t care. You think maybe you’ve found a hairline crack in his impenetrable defences, and that tiny shred of emotion – any emotion – is enough to encourage you to push at it.

“You know,” you say thoughtfully. “She didn’t save herself for you.” You feel his body tense against yours and you laugh. You’ve found it; the chink in his armour, the crack in the wall. There’s a roaring in your ears urging you onwards, to break through his barricades and make him feel again. “No,” you continue. “She wouldn’t wait… she was gagging for it, the little hussy.”

“Don’t you dare…” he spits. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since Penny died, and from the crack in his voice you guess that it’s the first time he’s spoken at all in a very long time. It’s almost like music to your ears; proof that you’re finally getting through to him.

“It’s true, Billy,” you smirk. “But you can hardly blame her – who’d wait for a loser like you when they have me?”

He tries to fight against you then, but you’re ready and you shove him sideways, tripping him with your foot so he goes sprawling across the concrete. He starts to pick himself up but you push him down, onto his back, and rip off his lab coat with one hand, the other pinning him to the ground. He tries to shove you away so you hit him, a hard backhand across the face.

The blow dazes him and you use the situation after-effect to your advantage. Quickly, you pull his pants down, accidentally breaking the zip of his fly before yanking down his underwear. He starts squirming but you hold him down with one hand on his chest while the other swiftly unbuckles your belt.

You spit onto your hand and rub it along your cock as a substitute lube before pulling his legs open and tugging him towards you. You grab his hips as you thrust into him quickly and he cries out in pain, his back arching away from the concrete. It’s rough and hard and exactly what you’ve needed.

He bites his lip, his eyes screwed shut as you pick up the pace, pushing into him faster and deeper, breaking down his wall one brick at a time.

“I did this to her,” you growl between pants. “I did everything to her. She was desperate… she did anything I wanted, just like the worthless whore she was.”

You enjoy seeing the pain in his face, pain from your words and pain from what you’re doing to him. He’ll never forget you, never ignore you after this. You’ve made him yours and yours alone, and that thought alone is enough to bring you right to the edge.

As you thrust in for the last time, he screams and cries out your name like a curse. You smile and through ragged breaths whisper, “Mine.”

You pull out of him and see there’s blood – his blood – mixed in with the come on your cock. You grab the discarded lab coat from the ground and use it to wipe yourself off.

He’s still lying on the concrete, but he’s rolled onto his side and curled up, his arms wrapped around his chest protectively. You smirk at his futile attempt to repair the shattered wall.

You pull your pants back up and fasten them. “She wouldn’t want you now, Billy,” you tell him. “It’s actually better she’s dead – you think she’d want anything to do with you after this? You couldn’t even keep hold of your precious little virginity for her. Even sluts like Penny have standards, Billy, and you’re far to tainted for that.” You laugh; knowing how much your words will tear at him, injure him, knowing how much he’ll hate you and how obsessed he’ll become with you now.

You laugh and walk out of the ally, and you don’t look back.