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Tony Stark was used to getting death threats. He didn't even deal with them for the most part as ever since he was a child he has had someone scan all his mail and any that indicated harm were investigated to see if the sender actually meant harm. This went for his social media too, he hasn't once controlled the accounts that have his name and face, that's down to PR, he is just informed what “he” has posted so he doesn't look like a fool. He has fake accounts on all social media for him to use, but he doesn't give himself away. He's not stupid.
So when his private instagram received a DM from a private account the same day a letter made its way into Tony’s office both addressed to “Anthony ‘Tony’ Edward Stark” it was immediately suspicious.
He opened the DM first as he let F.R.I.D.A.Y scan the letter to check for any kind of poison or powder that could be used to kill him.
“Dear Anthony ‘Tony’ Edward Stark, I am more than a fan, I believe I am the only one equal to you and your power, I am the only one equal to your mind i am the only one who you could ever relate to, you need me more than I need you and I need you more than I can breathe, I will find a way to breathe without Oxygen if it gave me the chance to get close to you. Oh Tony, only I can treat you how you deserve to be treated.”
Well, that's not the first DM he has received like that, but usually on his main account. The fact this message has gone to his supposedly untraceable account and the fact it was sent from an account that F.R.I.D.A.Y couldn't hack into (something Tony thought impossible before this moment) he began to panic slightly. No, not panic, worry. Tony Stark does not panic.
Except after F.R.I.D.A.Y confirms that the letter is just that, a letter, he reads it and in the shakiest handwriting Tony has ever seen the words he makes out are the same as that in the DM, although it supposedly came from someone who struggled to write even a letter without their hands shaking uncontrollably.
Then Tony does the worst thing he possibly can. He doesn't inform anyone about the DM or the letter. Instead, insists he can handle himself and just has F.R.I.D.A.Y continuously try and source who sent the message.
The next day, he collects more evidence. He awoke to F.R.I.D.A.Y opening the blinds and blasting Back in Black. He reached for his phone only to be met with a letter, an envelope identical to the one he found on his desk.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y, shut up.” Tony grunted, sitting up as he opened the letter quickly.
“Tony, my dear, my love. I see you have received my other communications. I'm glad. I want you to know me, I want you to know how much you need me. How much you love me. You don’t know me yet, but I know you and I know I’m exactly what you need. Wait for me. You’ll see me soon, you’ll come to me. I’ll see you soon my love. You’ll soon learn: You belong to me.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood up, a shiver running through his spine despite the perfectly controlled heat. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the same shaky handwriting from the previous letter. Vomit entered Tony’s throat, travelling upwards but he swallowed it down.
He told himself it was fine, but he knew deep down it was not. There was no reasonable explanation for this letter to have arrived in his bedroom. His office was in a public building, it was more believable, but his bedroom? There was no reasonable explanation for it to be on his bedside table .
He once again gave the letter to F.R.I.D.A.Y to analyse and kept quiet, not once telling security or whoever was left of the Avengers. He left himself alone, stubbornly refusing help and acting like he could save himself.
He found out too late, the next day, how wrong he was, how much help he really needed.
~~~
He awakes with his head pounding, it's like someone hit him with a bludgeon that felt sparkly? He has no idea how to describe it, he just knows he's in pain. Before he even opens his eyes he also becomes aware of the tight, scratchy ropes attached to his wrists and ankles, holding him suspended and spread out. Like some sort of medieval torture he feels that the ropes have pulled each limb from their respective socket, rending him useless.
Having seemingly previously been used on a boat, the ropes were tight enough to make his wrists and ankles red raw, the first layer of skin peeling off and the remnants of salt water forcing its way into the cuts, creating an agonising pain mixing with a scent of salt, blood and… incense?
Very strong incense overwhelmed his nostrils, it smelt like a back alley witches shop that made him lightheaded, worsening the likely concussion.
His usefulness is amplified as he opens his eyes, looks down and notices his suit holder shaped like his arc reactor is no longer there. He has no way of getting out, his suit cannot free him if he cannot call it.
Fuck.
Tony attempts to tug at his restraints, sending a sharp pain to his shoulders as he does, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as he pushes down any attempt at a scream. Unfortunately, his noise made his captor aware of his presence. Suddenly two black shoes, perfectly polished, enter his field of vision before suddenly two shaking fingers lift his chin up.
The man before him wears clothes that wouldn't be out of place at a ren fair, his red cape seemingly twitching of its own accord (which Tony put down to his concussion). Once he met his face, Tony looked into the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen, piercing him with a gleaming look and a smirk of excitement to match. His hair, black with hints of white looks run through, his hand running through it as he looks to Tony.
“Is this your weird sex dungeon? Because I’d like to know the safewords.” Tony’s tone was dry, his head hurting too much, his limbs useless and his patience too low for him to try and bargain.
The man had a look of concern on his face that Tony couldn't tell was real or fake, made worse when the fingers on his chin caressed his jaw. “What? No, no need for that, I’m not here to fuck you, I wouldnt hurt you like that.”
Tony tilts his head away, only for the man to grasp at his chin to force them to look at each other, eyes meeting and it clearly causing a reaction of twisted enjoyment not shared by Tony. “Well you have caused me pain and you kidnapped me!”
The man tuts, he dares to actually tut. “Kidnap? Tony, no, no not Kidnap. You chose to come here?” He saw Tony’s attempt to protest so increased his volume, “I knew you had opened my messages, I even tried my hardest to write to you and once I knew they had been read, I gave you an opening to come to me. You walked towards me, you chose to come here, you entered my house.”
“I was in my lab!” Tony can't stop the plea in his voice, he knows he didn't walk here, wherever here is.
Before his very eyes, the man circled his hand in the air and orange sparks appeared before showing him his lab, exactly as he left it. The same exact orange sparkly circle appeared in the air however long ago Tony was in his office. In his infinite curiosity he stepped through the orange circle as it displayed runes on the wall that Tony has since identified as the ones adoring the wall in front of him.
“You created that?”
The man nodded, his wicked, smug smirk coming back in full force, “and you walked straight in, no kidnapping occured.”
“I can guarantee I didn’t tie myself up or dislocate every fucking limb.” Tony spat at the man’s feet, the saliva landing on the floor next to him until the man waved it away. He really has no interest in learning where he sent that spit.
“Oh but you look so pretty and perfect all tied up for me, don't you enjoy something more spicy, Mr Stark”
“I’m not into your BDSM shit! Are you some deranged fan? I swear I’ll get my lawyers on you-”
The man tutted, he actually tutted. “Your lawyers don't scare me, particularly as I can make you want me. I know you want me Stark, baby.”
Tony was getting angrier, he had to stop himself from physically restraining against his ropes for fear of beinghurt but it just caused the anger to leak into his tone, “don’t call me baby and I dont want you, you pervert, who the fuck are you?”
“I am the man you've been waiting for, Master of the Mystic Arts. But you,” he brushed a quavering thumb over Tony’s lips before forcing his tongue past his lips and into his mouth, vibrating lightly, “you can call me Master.”
Tony bit his finger as hard as he could, only to earn a slap across the face, “Now, now, be a good boy.”
Before Tony could protect further, he was entranced by a rope appearing from seemingly nowhere and appearing beside Stephen’s head before wrapping around Tony’s, acting as a gag as it forces its way into Tony’s mouth and prevents him from speaking.
Once secure, the other man steps back and retrieves a book with trembling hands, opening it to seemingly the wrong page as he turns the pages back a few, a soft “ahem” sounding as he clears his throat, the book vibrating as the man’s hands refused to stay still.
Then began the chanting. It was a language unknown to Tony but as the runes around the room began to glow and remove themselves from the wall, turning red as they drew closer to Tony and the man in front of him, he deduced that the language was not of this Earth’s.
Tony could wait with eyes wide as he watched the man’s voice grow more frenzied, surrounding the air until they drew closer to the two of them until eventually the runes burned into Tony’s skin, a muffled scream escaped his throat but was caught on the gag. The man didn't notice, instead he kept chanting which only grew louder with each rune piercing Tony’s skin with a fire akin to that of real flames.
Until it stopped. The pain and the fear, the worry and the doubt, the itch for freedom was all gone in an instant. Instead Tony wanted to know more about the Master. His brown eyes unwavering in their devotion towards his Master as he looks up, his arms no longer hurting as he fights the restraints in order to be closer to the other man.
“That’s it, you want me don't you.”
“Yes Master.” Tony’s eyes fixate on the man’s bright blue eyes, staring at him with a desperate need that Tony wanted to give into this need, he wanted to be the only person his Master ever needed, his chest burnt with an agony only his Master could calm. He needs that man.
Suddenly the red cloak lifted and the ends cupped Tony’s cheeks, pulling his Master closer but just out of reach, his breath was overly sterile as he exhaled over Tony’s face. Fuck he wants him. He wants his lips.
“Please, Master.” Tony tugged harder on his ropes, his pain receptors numb as he felt nothing but desperation, begging to get closer, pleading to close the distance.
“So needy for your Master, don’t worry,” The man paused, smirking as he moved closer, their lips now less than inch apart, Tony’s parting, “You belong to me.” and with that, Tony’s lips were captured by his Master’s.
He was right, Tony did belong to him, Tony knew only his Master. His Master who had branded him as his with runes that connected them deeper than any ropes could ever tie.