Fifty Shades of MODOK

He floats toward me, the metal carapace necessary to prevent his enormous head from crushing the rest of his tiny little skeleton pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in a vice-like grip above my head with a retractable clamp I didn't see him deploy and he's pinning me to the wall using his shriveled legs. Holy shit. Another appendage - it is becoming apparent that his suit contains many - grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his gigantic lips are on mine. It's only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, which encompasses most of my head now, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, the very tip of his skateboard-sized tongue swiping back and forth across my mouth. I have never been kissed like this.

My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow erotic dance that's all about touch and sensation, all bump and grind, like I'm vainly licking a damp comforter that someone is swirling around my entire head. He brings a many-segmented exoskeletal appendage up to grasp my chin and holds me in place. I am helpless, my hands pinned, my face held, and his little bitty legs bracketing my hips. I feel the industrial-grade titanium of his armor against my belly. Oh my... He wants me. MODOK, howling-mad super-genius, wants me, and I want him, here... now, in the elevator, if it is even possible to access his erogenous zones while he is encased in metal and bristling with weaponry.

"You. Are. So. Sweet. You. Inferior. Mental. Gnat," he shouts in my face, each word a staccato.

The elevator stops, the doors open, and he bobs away from me in the blink of an eye, leaving me hanging and coated from my shoulders to the top of my head in saliva.

Previously, previously, previously.