So he had a new cloak. A stubborn one with a mind of its own.
It had been useful in the fight against Kaecilius’ group – he would have been dead several times without the cloak’s intervention. He supposed he should be grateful – and he was, really, that a powerful magical artifact chose to bind itself to him. He could just do without the – well, groping.
It started innocently enough – the collar sliding against his cheek or neck, the cloak fluttering to tickle against his wrist. Slowly, the touches became bolder – a brush against his lips, a definite caress against his bottom. First, he had thought that the cloak was just teasing him, if an animated piece of fabric could do so – he didn’t take any of it seriously.
Then the touches got more intent and – dare he think it – possessive. When he opened his laptop to write an email to Christine, the cloak would flutter to him and cover his field of vision, attach to his shoulders and drag him to his discarded, still half-full plate. And yes, maybe he had been neglecting himself a little – he was busy after everything that happened – but somehow the cloak seemed most insistent that he care about his health when he planned to contact Christine.
Which – it was ridiculous, of course. He was reading too much into things. A cloak, a piece of fabric, no matter now intelligent and animated – it simply could not have emotions like jealousy. That was ludicrous.
And – if the cloak peeked on him when he showered, it was like a dog watching its master to make sure that they were alright and had not disappeared, right? There was nothing odd about that. He did have a higher probability of disappearing while showering than most people – you never knew when someone or something opened an unfortunate dimensional portal and tried to pull him in. The cloak was right to be worried and ready to charge in if something attacked him when he was at his most vulnerable. And it was considerate that the cloak handed him his towel so he didn’t drip all over the floor while getting it. If it meant that the cloak got a good eyeful behind the transparent shower curtain, well – it was just a piece of fabric. It didn’t even have eyes.
And when he was cold – or caught in a moment of morose self-pity – it would wrap around him and hold him like a cuddly blanket. It was comforting.
He just felt weird about masturbating while the cloak was in the room. It seemed so pointedly uninterested when Stephen’s hand traveled to his nether regions that it made him feel that the cloak’s full attention was on him. Which – again – unlikely. It was a cloak.
He wasn’t really surprised when he was joined on the bed and a flutter of fabric wrapped around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away from his penis. He didn’t resist and the cloak’s end wrapped around him, tightening and loosening, pulling at him, while the rest of it fluttered against his skin in butterfly caresses.
Stephen gasped when something touched his bottom and the fabric squeezed, and more of it brushed gently over his opening.
“Wait, that’s too-” was all he managed before the touch got more intent. “You can’t really – you’re a cloak-”
The cloak seemed determined to prove him that it could; it rolled itself at the end and slowly pushed inside him. The penetration burned, but the cloak felt more slippery than Stephen would have expected. It unwrapped a little inside him and poked at his prostate and Stephen startled, a moan escaping his mouth. The cloak took this as encouragement and continued its double attack, rubbing his balls and teasing more pre-come out of him, and targeting his prostate so he could only tremble and whine in its hold.
Stephen shuddered when he came, the wrap of fabric over him swallowing every drop, and the fold inside him teasing his prostate all through it before gently sliding out. His ass felt empty and a little sore and Stephen wondered, if he should buy lube.
There would be no other time, he would scold the cloak and-
The cloak unwrapped from around him and he saw the white stains on the bright fabric.
“Look at you, you’re all dirty now,” he pointed out. “How do I even wash you-”
The cloak shook itself like a wet dog and revealed only clean fabric after.
“Well, that’s neat. Magical artifact, right. Um…”
The cloak fluttered like in a sigh and floated down to wrap over him.
“I have not forgotten about this, you know. This is entirely inappropriate – we will talk about this, sorcerer to cloak, man to a piece of fabric, don’t you think we won’t-”
The cloak patted him and Stephen sighed.
“Fine, I guess it can wait until morning… fetch me the blanket, will you.”
The cloak pulled the blanket over him, and then fluttered to cover him. It brushed against his lips and cheek and held him like a lover as he fell asleep.
He dreamed of being held down and filled, of soft caresses and a red cocoon keeping him safe. When he woke up, the cloak was hanging by the bed and he wondered, if he had imagined the events of the previous evening.
He had barely gotten dressed when Wong showed up in a sparkling portal, requesting his aid. The cloak attached to his shoulders and Stephen jumped through the portal with Wong, ready to face whatever was on its way. The cloak brushed against his cheek comfortingly and Stephen smiled, knowing that it would have his back - no one and nothing else would be allowed to touch him.
The beast roared and he pulled a weapon out of thin air, allowing the cloak to yank him away from the reach of the long claws. He jumped and sliced at the beast, seeing Wong mirror him on the other side.
They brought down the beast and regrouped, panting. Stephen had a long slash on his cheek from one of the beast’s claws and knew that he needed to disinfect it soon. Wong told him to go, that they could handle the rest. He ported out.
The cloak seemed jittery and he needed to pat it to stop it fluttering nervously. It only calmed down once his cheek was treated and he allowed it to wrap around him comfortingly.
“Calm down, it’s just a scratch,” he whispered and nuzzled against the cloak.
The talk could wait. The cloak was too agitated, having missed blocking the large paw’s descent by less than an inch, and this was comfortable. He would just take a little nap and then go help Wong and the others with the clean up. Just a moment…
When he woke up, it was dark and he had received a message saying that everything was in order. The cloak was still wrapped around him, but stirred when Stephen did. It still seemed agitated and Stephen smiled.
“I’m alright, you know,” he said, but the cloak poked at him intently.
He helped it remove his clothing and kneeled on the bed as it fluttered around him, checking each scrape and bruise. When its frantic fluttering turned into caresses, Stephen spread his legs wider and arched his back, welcoming the touch.
He groaned when the cloak pulled his hands behind his back and wrapped around them, holding them in place, as the rest of the fabric slid between his legs to tease him.
“I’m rather certain that the beast didn’t touch me there,” he muttered.
The cloak pinched him and he jumped, enjoying the apologetic caress that followed.
His life was fucked up already – what was this in comparison to everything else going on in his life?
Stephen sighed and submitted to the cloak, allowing it to take care of him. He didn’t know what a piece of fabric got out of this, but he was not complaining – it knew just how to touch him.
He bit his lip to quiet the moans and whimpers as the cloak caressed him. His back arched when it pushed inside and the hold on his arms tightened. He felt possessed, in the best possible way.
“So, is there something other than a cloak I should call you,” Stephen asked, when they cuddled together in the afterglow.
The cloak booped his nose and wrapped tighter around him. Stephen laughed and settled into the caress.
In a while he should get up and see that everything was in order – he trusted Wong, but he wanted to see for himself. He should also look into the beast and where it came from – did someone send it or did it wander in on its own?
For now – he was comfortable. He could stay here a moment longer.