Boundless (Ultron x Reader x Vision)

Chemical of Love.

WARNING: This chapter has non-con elements. I wanted to give Ultron a reason for his actions that would be realistic for him to understand as an AI-type being. This results in non-con methods.

It had been three days. And during each of them, you had been made to follow orders to start work on constructing Ultron's new body. Orders that you purposely dragged out, hoping to buy the team some time as they searched for you. You knew they were. They had to be.

You just needed to give them time ...

Flinching away from Ultron's caressing hand, you were brought out of your thoughts, the metal man now beside you, studying your expression. He'd done this continuously since he'd let you work outside of your cell, but you could never get used to the sudden touch of cold metal. Each time he chose a spot to caress, you shuddered, your heart fluttering in a mixture of ways. Brows furrowed, you reluctantly looked into his curious eyes.

"You're thinking about them, again," he concluded, backing away slowly, though he still stood beside you. "Probably wondering what's taking them so long."

Pushing his hand away, you backed away from your computer, frowning as you silently walked towards your cell, actually preferring it over Ultron's company. You'd had enough for the day. Watching you leave, he followed with a shake of his head, though kept his hands to himself for the time being.

"How rude. Am I such terrible company? I replaced your table. I even put a bow on it. You're being unreasonable."

"Leave me alone," you grumbled, continuing towards the cell.

"Excuse me?" That was when your wrist was snatched up, your body jerked around to face his, though your eyes remained averted. "How long do you plan on keeping this up? I've already explained what will happen should you deny me. And I'm growing tired of waiting for your mood to change."

"No shit," you scoffed, snatching your wrist from his hand with actual succession. "For someone who claims to have the human race figured out, you know nothing about women."

"Don't I?" he challenged, following you as you turned back around and started for the cell once again. "I know your favorite color is black. I know your favorite place is the beach at sunset. I know your favorite movie is Pretty Woman. I know –"

"No, you don't!" you screamed, turning back around with glaring eyes and balled fists, making Ultron stop in question. "Jarvis did! And I'm sick of you using his memories as your own! You're not him, and I'll never love you like I loved Jarvis!" you practically wept.

There was a pause between you as the atmosphere grew dense, Ultron's expression darkening in relation to the shift in mood. But it was only when he took another step towards you that you realized what you'd said, and what that meant in terms of Ultron's temper. You mimicked his step, though much smaller, but were caught off guard when he didn't stop, turning to run a moment too late.

You yelped when your wrist was taken once again, your body spun around and snapped back towards him. Colliding with his hard torso, you whimpered when you were thrown about again, this time into the new table that had been placed in your cell. Cowering against it, you threw your arms over your face in defense but flailed about when you were picked up and laid against the table's surface, the bow falling to the floor.

"P-Please," you whimpered. But the apology fell upon deaf ears.

"Is that so?" Ultron loomed, hovering over you, hands planted against the table on either side of your head.

"I ... I'm sorry," you offered, your life passing in short bursts before your eyes as they locked with your captor's. "I didn't ..."

"And this?" Ultron challenged, his hand creeping up towards your neck. Your head immediately flinched away, eyes shut tight, but leaving your neck exposed in the process. Gasping, your eyes fluttered wide, face flushing in shock the sudden sensation of the cool metal delicately grazing against the back of your earlobe. Your body writhed beneath his, which had applied just enough of its weight over you to keep you pinned down. Even in his fit of anger, he was considerate of your inferior body. But not so much to keep from intimidating you. Your neck craned, trying to get away from his touch as he dragged the tip of his finger down the curve of your neck. "Has he studied your body as I have? I know enough about it to render you motionless. Do you even know how fragile you are? All it takes is a pinch. "