Memories of the Future (Avengers/Blade Runner fusion, Loki/Thor, NC17)
Title: Memories of the Future
Fandoms: Avengers/Blade Runner fusion
Pairing: Loki/Thor
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 10551
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, slavery of robots by humans
Summary: Loki was a three-year-old replicant, starting to wear thin at the edges, when Thor first made him want to live.
Author's Notes: Thanks to unavoidedcrisis for cheerleading, fahrenheit_f430 for betaing, and kalakirya for podficcing. I'd also like to do a quick call out to Final Fantasy VII, Malice@Doll, and Mass Effect 2 for helping to flesh out the universe of this fic when help was needed.
Podfic Notes: This fic is available in podfic format thanks to kalakirya here in mp3 and m4b formats.
Limbo was not the first club established on Mars, and it certainly wasn't the most exclusive, but it was the most popular by far. The drinks weren't cheap and buying a VIP card didn't offer many perks, but it did have a selling point none of the other clubs could offer; it was the first club on Mars to provide stage acts and cage dancers.
The music in Limbo had become a comfort to Loki over the years, familiar and as well-suited to its purpose as he was. Slow bass and a trance-like pulse over the top gave shape to Loki's dance just as he gave his customers a rhythm they could respond to, something they could watch even if they would never be allowed to touch. Some moral standards still held true on Mars, if only barely.
Loki gripped the pole loosely with both hands, pressing his back to it but not yet riding it despite what the drooling mouths and wide eyes surrounding him desired. His regulars knew the reward of patience, and newcomers needed to see what he had to offer; he would bend, stretch, show off the length of his legs, and only when the music's beat deepened would he ascend.
It wasn't hard to keep everyone's attention. He had been genetically designed to make others want him, and his owner made no secret of it in conversation or in advertising.
Loki lived for the moment he threw his cape off the stage and hooked a heel on the pole, the moment he took flight. Even though he knew the voices shouting and whistling at him from around the stage belonged to people he would never touch, it was satisfying to feel desired. He wanted their eyes on him as he soared - wanted them to believe his dance was for their eyes only - and as he gained height, climbing the pole and squeezing his hands and thighs together to hold himself in place, he loved to tease by licking the metal that supported him, feeling the atmosphere in the room sharpen.
For a few moments everyone was under his spell, and when he let himself bend backwards away from the pole, extending his legs and tilting down to grasp the pole from underneath, he felt them exhale with him, capable again of remembering their drinks and companions.
A few would remain spellbound. Some persisted further and while fuelled by drink, stupidity, or some combination of the two, they would decide Loki's performance was an invitation.
Hecklers were rarely an issue. The bouncers and bartenders kept an eye on anyone who shouted abusively or at length, and if their bar tabs weren't large enough to warrant leniency, they were usually removed with swift force. Even without that help, groups of friends tended to keep each other in line without Limbo's staff having to get involved - humans on Mars rarely travelled anywhere alone.
Sometimes there were surprises, though. Loki didn't fear them; if anyone decided to rush the stage he knew he could just as easily throw a three-hundred pound human as fight one, though the security forces on Mars were rarely sympathetic about replicant acts of self-defence. Nonetheless, it kept him aware of his surroundings - a lot of mess could be avoided simply by his moving away from the stage's edge during a performance, putting distance between himself and any would-be attacker. The harder he was to reach, the likelier Limbo's bouncers would take care of the problem before he needed to react.
Often Loki knew when something was about to happen before a word was said or an action taken. Some people's eyes showed their desires long before they gave in to them.
It wasn't a great surprise to Loki when the visibly drunk man who had stared steadily at him throughout the last three performances of the night decided during his fourth and final act to jump up and scrabble at the stage's edge for grip. An angry chorus started up around the stage at the interruption, security struggling to push through the crowd to remove its cause, but Loki did find himself a little stunned when a huge blond man near the front simply reached up, grabbed the drunkard by the shoulders, and picked him up effortlessly.
After dumping the drunken man without ceremony in the arms of the nearest bouncer, the blond glanced up. Startlingly blue eyes met Loki's, and the rage in them faded to concern in a near instant.
The moment between Loki and his rescuer barely lasted a second, but it was enough to catch him off-guard more than the attempted stage rush had; the mystery man was quickly drawn away to have his act of chivalry rewarded by attention and free drinks, and Loki found himself finishing his performance on unsteady legs.
Drinks would have been payment enough if it weren't for Limbo making its rules on touching a little more flexible for those who were considerate towards the dancers. In theory one could refuse the advances of whoever had proven to be the hero of the moment, but refusal frequently seemed to result in reemployment outside Limbo.
Loki had never needed to take the matter into his own hands before - as much as humans enjoyed looking at him, the heroic type preferred to take their thanks from human dancers when a choice was offered. However, after he had asked the bouncers to arrange for his saviour to take VIP privileges wherever the man pleased, Loki found a visitor at his own door once he headed backstage.
Limbo's back rooms weren't as glamorous as the front of the club might suggest, but his guest didn't seem too put off by the cramped quarters or too distracted by the dancers milling about in various states of undress. Loki opened the door to his changing room, waited for the man to enter, and locked the door behind them; thin walls didn't afford much privacy, but even if others could hear what was going on, at least they wouldn't see.
"What's your name?" Loki asked, unfastening the leather strips of his stage outfit.
"Thor. I wanted to make sure you were safe," he added, averting his eyes as Loki peeled the outfit off in favour of a loose shirt and closer-fitting pants.
"How sweet," Loki said, unable to resist a touch of sarcasm; he knew what people stood to earn through kindness. "And the rest of it?"
"Beyond Thor? I have nothing else," Thor replied before clearing his throat, "I'm a replicant. I was supposed to be working at W3 but I'm on a forced leave of absence."
That made sense of Thor's outfit - human warehouse workers would leave their overalls at home for a night out, but a replicant wouldn't have a change of clothes available or the money to afford one. Loki raised an eyebrow nonetheless; Thor didn't appear to be incapacitated in any visible way, and a permanent loss of ability ought to have led to 'retirement', not to rest. "Replicants don't get leave."
"They do if they disobey a direct order," Thor said, his words as open and honest as his face, and Loki nudged him into sitting down on the sofa before discomfort could distract either of them from their conversation. "I called the manager a few things he didn't appreciate."
Loki grinned despite himself, excusing the lapse of control as a way for his body to mimic human sexual interest. "What brings a disgraced replicant to a strip club on Mars?"
Thor's face went blank for a moment, a little too still for a human expression, before he concluded, "Curiosity."
Loki tilted his head, not quite believing his ears entirely. There were things a replicant was supposed to admit to, and things they weren't - Loki had been hiding his desire to learn for months, stealing books from lockers and replacing them before anyone knew they had gone missing, reading obsessively for no better reason than because he could. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"
"I didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do, so I wandered. Then I wandered here. That's all."
To a human it might have seemed the shortest, dullest story ever told; to a replicant, it was alarming. Thor had admitted to questioning and disobeying human orders in front of a complete stranger - it was reckless and brave beyond anything Loki had seen before.
"You should leave," Loki said, unable to say anything more concrete. Common sense dictated he ought to stay away from someone who broke the rules so openly.
"If you want," Thor replied, standing up and looking over Loki's desk, "Have you got pen and paper?"
"I have my memory," Loki pointed out.
Thor nodded. "201C in Sector Four. I'd like to see you again."
"You know where to find me," Loki replied, watching Thor leave. He should have refused the invitation outright.
Loki swung his legs up onto the sofa, pressed his bare feet into the tacky faux-leather surface, and allowed himself a moment to relax and gather his wits. The attempted stage rush had been no real shock, but there was something unsettling in how he had been aided by a replicant despite the law's stance on replicant force against humans.
It had been a strange evening.
Heimdall stood by the performers' entrance as usual while Loki made ready to leave, steady as a rock and impossible to measure by looks alone. Loki had found him disturbing once upon a time - he liked to know people by their expressions - as Heimdall was a creature of silence and stillness, his visible strength the only certain thing about him. After enough time had passed, the difficulty of knowing how best to speak with Heimdall made Loki lose all forced politeness in the man's presence, and it had become comforting to have someone around he did not need to perform for. Heimdall was uninterested in small talk, and Loki suspected that was part of what made him a reliable guard - no one could charm their way past him, and any who tried to force their way inside were swiftly taken care of.
Loki had come to think of him almost as an extension of the door. Heimdall wasn't there to be reasoned with, he was there to guard Limbo and those who kept it running, himself included.
"I heard there was a fight earlier this evening," Heimdall said as Loki gathered his scarf and coat, and Loki shrugged.
"I would not call it a fight. One man tried to rush the stage, another man stopped him." Heimdall nodded, and Loki finished preparing for the cold outside, pulling his scarf tighter than normal. "Incidentally I'm fine, thank you."
"I see," Heimdall replied, either missing or ignoring the barb in Loki's comment and offering no further conversation as Loki left.
After sending a message confirming his return home to his owner, Loki dropped his bag carelessly and shut the blinds on all the windows, not yet turning any lights on. He didn't actually need much light to see, and though on some days he appreciated bright surroundings after leaving the reds and purples of Limbo behind, this night he craved the dark.
His fingertips grazed the wall as he found his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes along the way and turning on the shower as he toed off his shoes. The night had been too long and the walk home too cold.
Loki let himself settle into routine, but as he washed his face, he caught himself thinking of the replicant who had come to his rescue.
201C in Sector Four.
Hunger disrupted that thought before the shower was over and it did not resurface during his supper or his preparations for bed afterwards, but in the second between resting his head on the pillow and choosing to sleep, he remembered blue eyes.
Loki's owner had given him unprecedented freedom compared with many other replicants, demanding only that Loki attend work every evening for a full shift and return to his apartment by a set curfew. Despite the freedom, Loki had scheduled his life around his performances from the very beginning of his employment; giving his days structure wasn't a source of happiness, but it did prevent him growing agitated by boredom and stopped the hours from dragging by.
There was time for exercise, time for practising his act, time for buying food and drink, time for preparing it - how long he would spend on each activity varied, but the events tended to remain static. The human performers at the club had no interest in making friends with him, and though the replicants often enjoyed conversation, he felt no more need to form bonds with them than they did him.
It was an alien feeling to want to spend more time in another's company, and though Loki knew scratching an itch would not necessarily get rid of it, he disliked how the feeling kept distracting him during everyday tasks. He had remembered everything he needed to buy while shopping, but wandered into several stores he had no need to visit; when he returned to his apartment and sliced his finger while trying to prepare lunch he put the knife aside, sucked his finger, and admitted defeat.
He could not deny his curiosity, or that he wanted to share it with the only replicant he knew had experienced the same anomaly.
Loki wondered how humans didn't get lost in Sector Four. He had memorised the layout long ago, possibly from idly studying maps or possibly because he had been programmed to know his way around Mars, but he still knew that the towers and bridges did not have a logical structure to their order. Sector Four had been the first mine established on Mars once the preceding sectors had ensured the safety of long-term occupation. The structure left behind was haphazard in construction at best; tunnels had been converted into cheap living spaces for replicants and humans who hadn't yet scraped together enough to move on to other colonies or better sectors.
There hadn't been any accidents other than the industrial sort yet, but the crime rate was off-putting enough to give Sector Four a reputation. Loki had dressed for the occasion, hiding skin-tight armour and a flick-knife under his ragged coat. Although his strength made the knife superfluous, a drunk, drugged or stupid human was likelier to back down in the face of a blade than Loki's bare hands.
Thor's welcome was friendlier than the sector he lived in suggested possible, Loki finding himself hugged and given a beer before he had a chance to look around or find a seat.
To call it an apartment was something of a stretch - there were no windows, and the entire back wall was taken up by a bed significantly smaller than the man who used it. A small fitted wardrobe stood next to what was presumably the bathroom door, and the kitchen coupled with a battered sofa occupied most of the remaining living space. It ought to have been oppressive, but somehow it still felt like a home - Loki had never needed much room to find comfort, and the quiet drone of extractor fans was oddly soothing.
Nonetheless, although backstage gossip and heckling had let Loki know he was well treated compared to most replicants, the reality of it was a little startling.
"I'm curious too," Loki said, once he'd tired of exchanging niceties. "And I shouldn't be. We're supposed to die before we develop that far." he tapped his nails against the sofa.
"I don't know how old I am," Thor replied as he took a seat beside Loki, "But I knew I couldn't be the only one. Sif almost got kicked out of W3 with me for calling our manager a sexist ballsack, and I don't think that was in her programming. I think I've been dumped here because I'm not worth the cost of reprogramming."
Loki rather wished he could meet Sif, nursed his own beer with little interest in the taste or in getting drunk, but thankful for something to do in between talking. "You could leave. Save up, move to another colony, be curious somewhere you won't get in trouble for it."
"Save what?" Thor replied, gesturing to the room around him. "I don't have anything to save."
"You could. You're strong - I know a few people who'd love an extra mercenary they can rely on."
Thor shook his head. "No. I've had enough people asking for help with problems - I'm no criminal."
"You don't have to be," Loki said, turning to rest his free arm on the back of the sofa while he faced Thor. "Thieves and thugs ask for help. Professionals hire it." He took a longer swig of his beer, looking at the width of Thor's arms, "Not everything the military does is officially sanctioned."
Thor still looked hesitant; Loki set his own beer aside and wondered if the techniques he used on humans would work on a replicant.
"Do you think I would send you to a murderer?" Loki asked, watching Thor struggle to find an inoffensive rebuttal before he continued, "Everyone has to make money somehow."
"I'm not interested in military politics," Thor said.
"Mercenaries don't believe in politics. At least, mine don't. They're interested in money more than power, and power more than friends." It was a sentiment Loki could understand.
Thor finished his beer and walked over to the kitchen, rested his hand on the refrigerator's handle but didn't open it. "Let's swap numbers, and I'll think about it. Are you hungry?"
It wasn't a subtle attempt to change the subject, but it would have been unfair to continue making his host uncomfortable. "Ravenous. I skipped lunch."
As Loki changed into the first of his outfits for the evening, he wondered if it had been hypocritical of him to suggest Thor should escape Mars while he still had time and energy left. Not so long ago, Loki had planned an escape of his own - not in detail, but he had begun to make connections who could get him off-world, and started to save money so that he might use them someday.
The unused utility pipes overhead in his changing room had been an eyesore for years, but they also made a useful hiding place for tips. After each show, anything that had been thrown on stage rather than given direct to the bartenders was supposed to be handed in and divided amongst the other performers, and at first he had contributed his entire share.
Time went by and as he noticed his tips outweighed the others' contributions by far, he had wanted to hold a little of the excess back for himself. Hiding it in his clothes or the dressing table would have invited theft, but storing it in a plastic bag and tucking it into the pipes meant he had something to call on other than his official earnings.
He'd likely saved enough to buy transport off-world already, but even if he kept adding to the collection out of habit, he had no real wish to make use of it anymore.
His weakness for reading had a price. Loki's owner hadn't kept his paperwork locked away as securely as he ought to, and while reading through Limbo's purchase records after stealing a folder from the office, Loki had found his own reference sheet.
Once he knew his expected lifespan down to the day of 'expiration', it made the idea of escape seem childish. Counting down his remaining months through the routines he kept was the easiest way to keep from feeling suicidal or helpless, and dancing kept him sane.
Making others focus on him stopped him from focusing on himself.
Courtesy of the stage-diver, Loki's schedule had been adjusted for the remainder of the week - no one wanted to be reminded of the previous night's drama, and he had been swapped from centre stage to cage-dancing. He couldn't make as much in the cage as he did on the pole or on a table, but it was a welcome break from having to keep an eye on those around him and being untouchable had its own benefits. The cage didn't give him as many opportunities to demonstrate his strength as the pole did, but the fact he didn't have to watch his back meant there was an ironic freedom in being locked up.
Breaks to change outfits between acts allowed him to survey the room with ease, given he had to cross the main floor to get backstage. Limbo was mostly a haven for colonists who wanted to relax, but there were always a few organised groups scattered about - soldiers on leave, criminals wanting somewhere busy without security cameras, and those in between, the black market dealers and mercenaries.
Most mercenaries kept to themselves, but the better organised groups tended to have their own signature styles. Loki was keeping an eye out for purple-striped armour.
It wasn't that he liked their leader - just that he'd noticed more of his crew made repeat visits to Limbo than most. Repeat visits meant survival, and as Loki wanted to help Thor save up for a new life, he also wanted to recommend Thor to a mercenary group that would keep him relatively safe.
Wednesday night, Clint Barton showed up. Loki knew perfectly well why - most students had their Wednesday evenings free, and those whose studies weren't going so well tended to distract themselves with beer and dancers. Clint had an eye for spotting future mercenaries, and considered those he hired to be investments - the younger and stronger they were before gaining experience, the better.
Loki kept his call to Thor short and simple, skipping formalities to tell him to come to Limbo as soon as possible if he was interested in the mercenary work. Thor's response was equally short and simple - an, "If you're sure," followed by his hanging up. By Loki's midnight break he was at the bar, affording Loki a chance to approach Clint while he had enough free time to talk.
Hand gestures coloured the air blue around Clint, not that most people in the club would know it. It wasn't until he'd learned the preferred dialect of outer colony sign language that Loki had realised just how charmingly vulgar Clint was.
Loki ignored the catcalling of Clint's companions, shoved his way through the crowd to catch the mercenary's attention. "Good evening."
"Suck someone else's dick," Clint signed, "I'm not interested."
"Of course, you prefer bears," Loki signed back, smirking. "Are you hiring?"
Clint clicked his tongue in irritation before looking over Loki's shoulder. "The blond?"
Loki followed Clint's line of sight; sure enough, Thor was frowning at them both, his body language about as subtle as a brick. "Yes. He was working at W3 but they don't need him anymore. I'm sure he'll be cheap."
Loki missed the beginning of Clint's reply but turned back to him fast enough to catch, "... shit, but looks strong. He'll make a good grunt."
As much as they disliked each other, Loki had never given Clint any bad intel, and Clint had proved useful in helping Limbo chase after a few people who thought they could forget about their bar tabs. Clint wrote his latest contact number down, handing it over to Loki and snarling when Loki thanked him for it with a kiss.
It was a petty sort of tease, but Loki enjoyed the chorus of wolf-whistles and laughter as he joined Thor at the bar.
"Are you two good friends?" Thor asked, his jaw tense and arms folded.
"No," Loki replied, tucking Clint's number into Thor's jacket. "He hates me. I just happen to be -" Loki caught himself letting the touch linger, the warmth of Thor's chest all too appealing, and he snatched his hand back, "- useful. Call him quickly, he usually changes numbers after a week. The sooner someone else owns you, the better."
It took a conscious effort to walk backstage rather than rush, but his reaction to Thor's warmth had unsettled him. Thankfully, preparing for his next performance was as good an excuse as any to leave Thor without another word.
After midnight the heat was always turned up in the club - literally - to encourage people inside to drink and to entice anyone in the smoking area outside to return from the cold Martian air. Loki removed his heels and gloves, swapped to smaller, tighter shorts, and left only a green and silver vest on for the sake of a little colour; it could always be discarded later if the club was crowded enough for the heat to become uncomfortable.
All eyes were on him as he crossed the floor and climbed into the cage, wiping his bare feet clean with the towel other performers normally used for sweat.
Loki knew how he looked; illegal recordings of almost every performer in the club had shown up on the Net, and vanity had made him watch.
When he danced, people stared. When he touched himself, people forgot to breathe.
Loki kept his hands high at first, either in the air or bracing him either side of the cage, letting his lower body do the hard work. He dropped to his knees, spread his legs, showed off his skin until he could practically taste how much others wanted something to happen to it.
When he started to work magic with his fingers, dancing them over his chest and stomach, there was an audible groan somewhere in the audience. People freely whooped and cheered when he ran his hands up his thighs; when the time came to give his viewers what they really wanted, grabbing his ass through the thin material of his shorts, he looked for Thor and felt disappointed when he saw only a re-occupied bar stool.
He slipped back into the dance, and tried not to think about why he was disappointed.
The night finished quietly enough, Loki changing back into something more appropriate for the weather outside before walking home.
There was a small shock waiting for him on his doorstep. Thor had curled up there and was snoring quietly; after looking around to make sure they were alone, Loki gently shook him awake. "What are you doing here?" Loki asked, lightly scolding in his tone. He would have been angrier at anyone else turning up at his address without permission, but Thor was a welcome sight compared to others.
Thor's eyes snapped open, and after a few dazed seconds he rose to his feet, straightening his clothes with an embarrassed expression.
"Thor?"
Before Loki could decide between inviting Thor in or leaving him outside, he was shocked into silence by warm lips on his. Thor didn't force his mouth open, didn't lick at his lips for access, just kissed him, firm hands either side of Loki's face holding him in place. Loki wondered if he ought to struggle. He didn't want to.
Loki braced his hands on Thor's chest before confused irritation overcame his desire to keep kissing and he shoved hard, backing away. "How did you - why did you come here?" Loki snapped, rubbing at his cheek and hating that he still wanted Thor's touch. "I did you a favour tonight, and you want another?"
Thor shook his head fiercely, walked past Loki to grip the railing separating Loki's apartment from the next. "I saw you with Barton and I was jealous. I thought if I could explain -" he grit his teeth, looking at his hands as if they could help, "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything."
"No," Loki said, opening his front door and stepping into the hallway, tapping out a short message to his owner confirming that he had returned home. He could have slammed the door in Thor's face and made his refusal concrete, but Thor's honesty demanded a proper response. "No, you want to fuck me because I'm a pleasure model and I'm 'designed' for it. You're not the first."
"It's not - I know what you are," Thor said, turning back to Loki with a look of wonder as if Loki was something rare, something impossible, "But it's not just that. I think about you all the time - how you're different -"
Loki wished he had water at hand to ease his dry throat and the odd, dizzy feeling of being caught by surprise. "Stop talking," he ordered, the quiet giving him a moment to think.
He wanted Thor too.
Loki would have wondered about the symmetry, but it felt more important by far to take Thor by the hand, guide him into the apartment, and start a deeper kiss than Thor had dared.
Thor's strength allowed him to carry Loki with ease to the bedroom even with Loki trying to strip him of his clothing along the way, and when that short distance had been crossed, it was a relief to be able to pull Thor's overalls completely off.
Electrical burns and scars marked almost every inch of Thor's body, and although Loki's programmed instinct was to sneer, that sense of self Thor had forced him into confronting found it beautiful. Few humans would ever carry marks like these - not when they had replicants to carry them instead - and he wondered how someone as untouched as himself could be held above someone like this, someone who had lived.
"Bite me," Loki ordered as Thor unzipped his boots, "I won't scar, but I need -"
Thor didn't wait for an explanation, biting into the arch of Loki's right foot until Loki felt the sting of breaking skin, following up with soothing licks moments after the damage was done. It wouldn't last more than a day, but it would be something he could hold onto for a while - proof of what they had done here, and something to mar his custom-designed perfection.
Once the layers of clothing between them were gone, Loki pulled Thor back on top of him, gripping his hands and guiding them so that one supported Thor's weight and the other wrapped around Loki's cock. Thor's expression and lightness of touch showed Loki more than words could - Thor's kind had only the barest knowledge of sex, enough that banter with humans wouldn't confuse them, but not enough to help them indulge.
Sex was an unnecessary desire for the perfect labourer.
Loki reached up to the headboard of his bed, tapped open the built-in drawer, and felt for a tube he'd long wondered if he would ever use. "Hold still," he snapped at Thor, angry at himself for the clumsiness of his hands as he opened the tube and coated his left palm all too liberally with lube.
There was a certain vicious pleasure in throwing the tube away afterwards, even he was risking it leaking onto the floor by doing so; it didn't matter to him as long as he could dip the fingers of his right hand into the lube, slicking them up so he could work himself open while spreading the rest over Thor's cock.
Loki breathed out, fighting a strange anxiety. He knew of sex, he'd been programmed for it, and he knew how it worked both in theory and in practise. He'd dreamt of it, on occasion.
It was still strange to think that this was the first time he would actually have it.
Loki pulled Thor's hands to his hips, arched to help Thor lift them up, and guided Thor inside him, holding his breath all the while; once he felt Thor push in, he closed his own hands over the curve of Thor's ass, digging his fingers in hard.
"Can I move now?" Thor asked, and Loki caught his breath back with an unexpected laugh.
"Yes," Loki replied. "As much as you like."
It was easy enough to find a rhythm with hands on each other's hips for guidance, and although it was tempting to relax his head into the bed's pillows, it was even more tempting to nip at Thor's jaw, nose and lips, drawing him into kisses between each stolen breath.
"Loki," Thor said, before seeming to change his mind about saying anything more, simply sliding his hands up Loki's back and then lifting, shifting until he could kneel with Loki in his lap, and grinning.
"Good move," Loki said, glad to have the freedom of his hands back, and wrapping one around his own cock - the stretch of Thor inside him was pleasant enough, but not enough to make him come - while he wrapped the other around Thor's hair and tugged.
Thor winced at first, but then his skin flushed and Loki tugged again, felt Thor's hips jerk against his involuntarily, breaking what had been a steady rhythm.
Loki took Thor's lower lip between his teeth, bit as hard as he could without drawing blood, and pulled hard again before Thor grabbed him by the back of the head and didn't so much kiss him as shove their lips together, grunting into Loki's mouth as his movements drew to a shuddering halt.
Loki couldn't feel wetness, but he could feel the pulse of Thor's cock inside him, and even if he wasn't sure why, he found himself groaning in response to it. Loki fisted himself, wanting to mark Thor's chest and claim it as his, and even though Thor's grip on him had slackened, Thor still offered him stimulation in the form of lazy, wet kisses.
Thor's cock slipped out, come dripping down Loki's thighs moments after, and that was enough to finish him.
Even after a brief rest, Loki was too tired to feel anything more than slight dejection when Thor lowered him back onto the sheets to climb off the bed and gather his clothes.
"Are you done?" Loki asked, deliberately waspish, and biting his tongue when he saw Thor's only interest lay in his overalls' pockets and the tissues inside them.
"Should I be?" Thor asked in return as he started to clean up the mess they had made as best as dry tissues would allow.
Any answer Loki might have had died on his lips long before Thor lay down next to him and stroked a rough but gentle hand over his cheek.
"You weren't just designed beautiful," Thor said, and let his hand drop to Loki's chest.
He fell asleep before finishing the thought, and though Loki considered waking him for an explanation, Thor's steady breathing made sleeping beside him an appealing thought.
Loki woke to the press of warm skin against his back and a wish that he had showered before bed. His teeth needed brushing, and at some point he had drooled in his sleep.
Despite all of that, and despite feeling strangely lost in his own bed, the tingle of anticipation under his skin was a pleasant one.
Loki turned to face Thor, found him frowning with his eyes shut as if sleep required concentration, and reached up carefully to stroke Thor's eyebrows. The frown disappeared as Thor stirred, and for a long time, all Loki could do was stare.
Thor wrapped a hand around Loki's wrist, pulled it down to settle at his waist, and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, exploring Loki's mouth in a way the previous night's rushing hadn't allowed.
Loki returned the favour, finding what Thor responded to best. He wasn't sure what he had expected the morning to bring, but he hadn't thought it would be so simple.
Loki had never thought of himself as a domestic sort, but there was something pleasant about making breakfast for two. There wasn't much meat to go around, but plenty of cereal and toast.
"I wish I knew how old I was," Thor said, taking massive bites of toast in between talking. Loki wondered if that was a habit born of hunger, or if it just didn't occur to Thor that he was being impolite.
Loki couldn't help but find it charming. "I would guess three. I've never seen a curious two-year-old."
Thor finished his first slice in record time, picked up the second without a pause. "We die at four," he said, pointing out what Loki already knew from his own experience. The signs weren't obvious, but he'd seen discolouration in his fingernails, paleness in the skin under his eyelids. Changing his diet had helped hide them, but it didn't change that he knew his own time limit down to the day. "You could come with me. Away from Mars."
"I could," Loki agreed without much thought, looking up only as Thor leaned across to catch him by the wrist.
"I want you to," Thor added. "Would you come away with me?"
Loki gave the idea a little more consideration, swallowed a mouthful of cereal despite an unexpected lump in his throat. Thor could just as easily be older than him, but he couldn't tell - if Thor was younger, being around Loki as he shut down would only show him what he had to look forward to in the future.
On the other hand, Thor was aware of their kind's fate, and there was little harm in taking a risk at this stage. "Of course," Loki replied, returning his attention to breakfast once Thor let go of his wrist.
Loki wondered as he took the loose pipe down in his changing room and shook the bags of tips out into his backpack if he had ever truly believed he would leave Mars. Even before he'd given up hope, it had seemed like a distant idea - something to do long into the future, back when he thought he had one.
Making practical moves towards leaving felt like both a relief and a burden. Paying attention to time drove home how little of it he had left, but the thought of spending his last few months however he wanted to seemed wonderful.
There was no drama involved in smuggling the stashed tips out of Limbo. The closest he came to confrontation was when Heimdall blocked his path at the door, turned the power off on his communicator, and said, "I know you're hiding something from me. Are you carrying drugs or guns?"
When Loki replied, "Neither, I-" Heimdall did not give him a chance to elaborate.
"Anything else is your business."
Heimdall might not have been a replicant or a dancer, but for a brief moment, Loki had felt kinship with the guard.
Thor's attempts to save money were rendered somewhat more dramatic simply by the nature of his work. Thor largely kept to himself about what exactly Clint's operations entailed, and Loki respected his desire for privacy; Clint's willingness to take Thor on as a mercenary rather than a slave despite purchasing him was unusual, and any argument might lead to his deciding Thor wasn't worth paying. Evidence of the missions started to pile up around Thor's apartment - the sniper rifle tucked under the bed, papers burnt to ash in the sink, ammonia to corrupt bloodstains left on the work surface - but Loki made an effort not to ask.
In turn, Thor trusted him with more than just secrets. When Loki received a message mid-afternoon asking him if he could come over to the Mars-Phobos dock with Thor's spare overalls and as many towels as possible, he did as asked without requesting the details. On turning up at the dock it wasn't hard to find a gathering of carefully disinterested humans guarding an unmarked shuttle, and he wasn't surprised when they took the bundle without thanks and carried it inside.
Loki rather suspected the guards were there for the cargo more than the shuttle itself - a crate poorly disguised with a loose tarpaulin was clearly marked with a weapon manufacturer's logo. Mars prohibited the carrying of guns on its docks - a leftover law from when the atmospheric shields were vulnerable to damage and loss of environmental controls - and if anyone managed to slip past the guards and steal a gun, legally they would only be able to defend themselves with blades.
Thor eventually emerged from the hold bruised but un-bloodied, stumbling a little, and Loki offered his arm for support, wrapped it around Thor's waist once he had permission.
"Don't bring fists to a knife-fight," Thor whispered in his ear before laughing, and despite his concern over Thor's pain, Loki caught himself laughing too.
Whatever the payout for the mission was, it allowed Thor to buy clothes other than overalls, and helped him blend into Limbo's regular crowd as much as his physique would allow. Clint seemed to appreciate Thor's assistance, if his behaviour at the club was any sign - under normal circumstances Clint kept to his own crowd, but he opted to interrupt Thor's watching of Loki's pole work to punch him in the arm and hand over a small wad of credits.
Clint had given Thor more than enough for a round of drinks, but not enough for a full mercenary's payout, and Loki couldn't help but be curious. Taking advantage of a slow-down in the beat, Loki slid back down the pole, crawled to the stage's edge, and demonstrated his flexibility to those in front of him; while they were distracted by his legs, he could tilt his head back and catch Thor's eye long enough that a pointed glance towards the bathroom was taken as a hint.
Thor would have to wait five minutes or more before Loki could join him, but Loki intended to reward him for the patience.
A lack of lubricant limited their options, but when Loki pressed his thighs tight together and let Thor rub his cock between them, it was enough. Convenient too, as Thor could stroke Loki's cock while Loki braced their combined weight against the cubicle door.
"What did Clint pay you?" Loki asked, hating the way sex turned his tongue to lead and made his words sound gruff.
"An advance," Thor replied, tightening the grip of both hands, possessive at Loki's waist and perfectly cruel around Loki's cock. "I smashed a man's skull on that last mission. Word got around."
Loki bit his lip and moaned, the thought that such strength was at his back and between his legs sending a thrill through him he would never have predicted.
"Clint says I'm a natural disaster," Thor said, biting at Loki's ear and fucking Loki's thighs hard enough the friction almost hurt, "People pay to see them."
Loki came without warning, sudden and hard enough for it to steal his composure; three short, sharp sobs for breath were all he managed before he was aware of the wetness on Thor's hand, the drips on the cubicle door.
Loki steadied himself as best as he could, pushing back against Thor until he took the hint and sat on the toilet, giving Loki room to grab tissues and clean up the mess he'd made of himself.
When he knelt to wipe up the few drips that had hit the floor, it was only fair to take care of another task that could be done on his knees.
Thor wasn't subtle when he came, loud and enthusiastic, but Loki didn't mind the noise. It wouldn't do his own reputation any harm.
Once Thor had paid off what few debts he'd acquired in between working at W3 and working for Clint, he didn't so much start moving into Loki's apartment as he simply stopped going to his own. After finding Thor's sniper rifle tucked beside the refrigerator while searching for the ironing board, Loki snapped and demanded that if Thor was going to live with him then he'd better stop wasting money renting the other apartment.
Loki initially thought Thor upset at his anger when he walked out after being scolded, but given Thor returned within a few hours carrying the last of the clothes and bedding he'd yet to leave lying around Loki's home, it seemed he'd taken Loki's advice.
After a somewhat tense supper, Thor left again to pick up his other belongings, and Loki woke to find the kitchen restocked, Clint's current number added to the apartment's speed dials, and the sniper rifle partnered with a shotgun. The ironing board was still missing, but Loki couldn't quite find the energy to still be angry about it.
With the increased payouts courtesy of Thor's reputation with Clint, it wasn't long before Loki realised they were ready to leave; he'd packed his own bags with everything he thought vital for the trip, and he'd arranged for everything rented in the apartment to be picked up before the month's end and the rent running out. As time ran on, Loki found himself sleeping easily, but struggling to wake up - many of his daily chores seemed unnecessary now, and there was something disheartening about how little effort it took for him to give up his responsibilities on Mars. Each day seemed to be divided into going to work, coming back, and counting the days until Thor was due to return back from his missions.
It had all felt too easy, and when Thor interrupted his sleep by sliding in beside him late one night without saying a word, the quiet spoke to Loki's anxiety.
As much as Loki had not known Thor long enough to be aware of all his habits, silence on his part was not a good sign. Thor was far from a gossip, but he enjoyed conversation, and had thus far always greeted Loki warmly on returning home from his work with Clint.
Loki turned over, rested his palm on Thor's cheek and felt the reassuring scrape of his stubble. Thor looked troubled, even as he tilted his head into the touch, and Loki wished he could have the patience to be willingly ignorant.
Curiosity and concern won out. "What happened?"
"I found others who want to leave Mars," Thor said. "They're going to Earth."
Loki felt a wave of cold wash over his skin, tingling, and was glad for what comfort lying down could offer. "Earth is a death sentence."
"I know," Thor replied, "But their leader, he knew everything - he's like us, a replicant, but he knows how we work. He knew about viruses that could stop the clock, about gene therapy - ways to stop us dying so fast." he rolled over, reaching down beside the bed for something, Loki's anxiety given strength by the fact Thor had come to bed without changing his clothes first. "Here," Thor said, passing Loki a recorder and headset. "Just listen."
Loki sat up, putting on the headset and pressing play.
Thor wasn't stupid, so Loki had known better than to expect guarantees or promises of new life. Neither of them was that naive. But the speaker, Roy, talked with expertise - he'd been made a soldier and a scientist, designed to come up with new ideas and new plans. Lateral thinking wasn't easy for a replicant, but he'd managed it.
It felt naive, even if it was reasoned out, and it hoped for more than they were ever likely to achieve, but it did offer a chance - a slight, fragile chance - that the clocks could be stopped. That alteration of their genetic code did not necessarily have to mean death.
Loki paused the recording and looked at Thor, shining so much brighter at his side than he ever had. Loki knew what it felt like to see death on the calendar.
He doubted the clocks would stop for himself, but if Roy's plan could give other replicants more than four years, and if there was a chance it could give Thor extra time, it would be enough. If replicants were able both to live their lives and remember them, it would be enough.
His expiration date had never felt so close. A chance to stop others suffering the same fate might give his death meaning.
"I'll help," Loki said, putting the recorder down on the bedside table before finding warmth again in Thor's arms and, eventually, sleep.
Although he wasn't dissimilar to Thor in height, or in having blond hair and blue eyes, Roy bore no other resemblance to him. Where Thor was sun-drenched warmth, Roy was ice and shadows, sharp with intelligence in a way Loki understood.
The small crew he'd gathered were all similarly strong, though not necessarily as bright, and Loki found himself wary around them despite the trust Thor displayed. A man like Roy could be magnetic, especially to those who weren't as intelligent, and Loki had no interest in treating him like a messiah.
Thor had met him through Clint; he and Roy were both soldiers once, although Roy's quitting had come with bloodshed, not paperwork.
"No one comes back from Orion's Belt without some scars," was all Roy would offer as explanation, more interested in planning their escape to Earth.
Registered transportation was out of the question. Zhora, the red-haired woman of the group, had been involved in dirty work for her employers - her face would be instantly recognisable to any decent security officer - and the harder their trip to Earth was to track, the less likely they were to be caught before finding someone who could give them their answers.
Clint's unmarked ships were ideal for the task. One alone would have more than enough space to carry eight replicants, and Zhora knew of three illegal docks on Phobos they could land at safely - plus another two where mercenaries regularly bribed their way into landing with ease. Thor and Roy both knew where Clint's ships were stored, and Thor knew when they were least likely to be in use. In the event of running into Clint's guards, Mars' laws about weaponry on the docks would be in their favour - a fight between humans and replicants without firearms involved was no contest.
It sounded simple and clean, and Loki agreed to offer his assistance, provided that Thor would not join them; Thor shot him a look of confusion but nodded his assent, offering no interference as Loki finalised the dates and times with Roy.
Loki made a point of holding Thor's hand as they left together.
Roy was clever, but his eyes were poor liars. Throughout the meeting, even if he hadn't looked at the blonde girl sat behind him, he had kept glancing to the side as if considering it. No one else in the room had been given that treatment.
Roy meant for her to live, and everyone else's survival was secondary. Loki was willing to take that risk himself; he wasn't willing to let Thor do the same.
Telling Thor the truth would have guaranteed his refusal to let Loki leave without him, and Loki used the threat of needing to keep quiet in public to buy himself time to think up a decent lie. Any questioning of Thor's strength or bravery was out of the question.
In the end, it was easiest to keep it simple.
Thor could carry on to the outer colonies as they had originally planned, and so as not to insult his intelligence, Loki said someone ought to start making them a home for Loki to return to once the work on Earth was completed. If they found a means to extend their lives, great - if not, at least Loki could head straight to whatever home Thor had built for them.
It sounded enough like the truth for Thor to believe it, and when Thor kissed him goodbye before they split up, it was the quick, happy kiss of someone who expected the parting to be short.
Thor didn't notice that Loki tried to make it linger a few seconds more.
Given that Thor knew their plans and the only other people who might be concerned by Loki's disappearance were his landlord and his owner, Loki felt there was no need to write a long explanatory note for his leaving. Dramatics were unnecessary - just a quick truth, as short and sweet as his goodbye kiss with Thor had been.
I expect to die tonight.
- Loki
It was as much information as anyone could need.
Loki tucked his share of the travel money in with Thor's belongings, changed into his armour, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. He didn't intend to sleep until it was time to leave, but he had nothing else to do.
Loki allowed himself to smirk on meeting up with Roy and his group, given he felt no need to be polite in their presence, as they appeared to have taken the idea of a cloak-and-dagger mission rather literally. Having no more need for his own coat, Loki had discarded it in the public toilets nearest to the dock's entrance to make movement easier, but the others were still disguised as if their purpose in visiting a dock this late at night wasn't already clear.
The dock was quiet, the unmarked ship Thor had mentioned parked unobtrusively near the entrance, and it was nothing more than gut instinct that made Loki duck and roll for cover when he heard the shush of a door sliding open.
He didn't see what the others ran from, but he heard it clearly enough, holding his hands over his ears and tucking his legs into his chest as the container he'd hidden behind echoed the bullets being pumped into it.
Armed guards. That wasn't going to be any fun.
With relative strangers huddled at his side, using their limited cover for protection, Loki didn't bother to wonder what else could go wrong; two more joined the ambush through the same entrance he and the others had used. Moreover, they weren't marked out with purple or orange, or any other mercenary's colours.
Black and white chestplates and blue shoulder guards. Soldiers. Not mercenaries.
"Give it up, skinjobs," someone announced over a loudspeaker, "We know Roy Batty and Zhora are with you. Let us retire them, and we'll allow the rest of you to remain functional."
The blonde girl curled up against Roy, sobbing, and Loki wished he could hate her for it, but there was nothing weak in the action. They were helpless - giving up Roy and Zhora wouldn't guarantee their safety, and even if they were allowed to live, they would have to undergo reprogramming first. Crying wasn't going to make the situation any better or worse.
The soldiers by the entrance drew closer, not yet taking aim, but their fingers on the triggers nonetheless.
"You have ten seconds to decide. Let Roy Batty and Zhora stand, or we will open fire on all of you."
Loki rested a hand on his knife, deciding if he was to go out with the others, he'd be damned if he went out sitting, before a roar of anger knocked the breath out of him.
He'd recognise Thor's voice anywhere.
For the first time in his life, Loki was completely lost for words.
The humans by the gate were taken completely by surprise, turned to mush by a close-range shotgun blast, though those guarding the ship were quick to react. Thor's armour forgave many sins, but not enough to stop him dropping to his knees when a shot to the stomach left him bleeding.
Lost for words but not lost for action, Loki dived out of the cover he'd taken with the others, pulling Thor with him into the small space behind the ticket booth and curling up into a ball until the scream of bullets had quietened down.
"Four," Thor said, clutching his stomach, and Loki pressed a hand over the wound with him, shaking as he watched his fingers turn red. "There's four left at the back by the, by the -"
"By the ship," Loki finished, easing Thor's jacket off so it could be pressed against his belly in an attempt to stem the bleeding. "We were ambushed."
"I'm so sorry, if I'd known, Clint -"
"Don't," Loki said, raising a hand to stop any of the others from trying to run across. He'd been lucky in catching Thor, and they could not rely on luck.
Thor laughed, resting his head against the booth. "I could have lived a lot longer if I hadn't met you."
"I know," Loki said, smiling bitterly. "I wanted to leave you behind. I'll die in three months."
"You knew?" Thor asked, before shaking his head, too tired or sore to stay angry. "Of course you knew."
Roy and the others were as uninjured as himself, but Loki knew the odds of blade-armed replicants against four humans with semi-automatics were unfavourable. If Thor had only brought the damned sniper rifle with him, the one time Loki needed it - but hindsight was a vicious thing, and at least they had the shotgun. Loki pulled Thor's backpack off his shoulders and searched through for ammo, breathed a small sigh of relief at finding both replacement shells and a revolver. "We won't make it," he said, "But they might. If I charge and stall, they should escape."
Thor's face fell but he didn't argue, reached up to tangle a bloody hand in Loki's hair; despite the wound, he was still strong. "Don't you dare forget I love you."
"I won't have time to," Loki replied, tossing the revolver across to Roy and signalling for him to wait before peeking around the corner at the soldiers. "We die, they live."
Thor took Loki's hand and squeezed it tight, shuddered in pain, then let go.
Loki felt no fear as he charged, wrapping his legs around one human's neck to snap it as he fired his shotgun into the face of the next, and he wondered if he had ever danced so beautifully before. Bullets whistled by his side, screams echoing in his ear, and he heard Roy cry out for someone to run before realising the command had been aimed at him.
The transport was theirs.
Loki dropped the shotgun and ran back to Thor, picking up the backpack first to toss it over his shoulder, and then hooking both arms underneath Thor to scoop him up and carry him over to the ship. It wasn't an elegant hold and he couldn't run, but it was all he could manage - the shock of having a real chance of survival had left him breathless.
"We'll change at Phobos," Roy said as he started up the engine, letting the others take care of sealing the doors and windows, "Hide for a few days then jump a passenger vessel, something more discreet."
Loki let the words wash over him, too preoccupied with trying to stop Thor's bleeding, and was caught out when Zhora pushed him aside to sniff at Thor's wound. "Somebody likes you," she said, pushing forward to the front of the transport and digging under the pilot's seat. "Two bullets to the belly and an intact stomach. Probably going to need your intestines fixed, but I'm sure you can live without solids for a few weeks."
Loki felt as if his tongue had been pulled out when she returned with the ship's medical kit. There weren't words enough to thank her, so instead he stuck with what he could respond to, taking Thor's hand and squeezing it, forcing himself to calm down between sobs.
The blonde girl of the group took it as an invitation to hug him from behind, but he didn't shrug her off. Slight though she was, she had strength too. Her steadiness helped him breathe.
Although Phobos was nothing more than a pit-stop between Mars and the rest of the galaxy, it was indisputably in better condition than Mars itself; Phobos was a haven for businesses advertising both the colonies on Mars and those further out in the galaxy, and had changed from being merely a fuelling station to being the flagship service station for humankind.
The blonde girl helped Thor in to the repair station, her innocent face enough to sell the story that she'd never seen him before and couldn't possibly know how he came to be so injured, but before Loki could continue in after her to find out what would happen next, Roy caught him by the shoulder.
Loki tensed, but decided he could give Roy a moment to plead his case or to apologise for having nearly cost Thor his life.
Roy asked if Loki wanted to leave Thor to heal while they finished their business on Earth.
Loki felt restrained enough in telling Roy, plainly and simply, to go fuck himself.
Thor didn't so much blink awake as groan awake, huffing in pain as he failed his attempt to sit up. "Where am I?"
Loki rolled his eyes; the white and taupe decor should have been a clue. "Somewhere bright and shiny, just like you wanted."
Thor laughed before redoubling his efforts in groaning and clutching his stomach for emphasis. "No, no more laughing. Laughing is a bad idea."
"We're on Phobos, and you are in a repair station," Loki said, "Wasting time we should be spending getting as far away from Earth and Mars as possible."
Thor looked down at his stomach. "I can't move."
"I know," Loki said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Thor's ear, keeping his lips near enough to avoid any camera picking up his words by sound or by sight. "I left a suicide note in my apartment. I knew this would be a one-way trip." Words started to die in his throat, and Loki reached blindly for the hand on Thor's stomach, gripped it tight with his own. "I didn't count on you being with me."
Thor tilted his head and stared at Loki in complete disbelief before leaning up and kissing him hard. It couldn't last long, pain forcing him to settle back down and gather his breath, but it was enough to convince Loki that waiting for Thor to wake up had been worth every minute.
"I think I'd rather die in the Exodus Cluster than on Earth," Loki said, hesitant as he added, "Wouldn't you?"
"Don't leave me behind," Thor said, "Never again."
"I'll try," Loki said, standing up and leaning over for one last kiss before he gathered his bags. "Floor 21, room 7, Lotus Hotel. Find me as soon as you can walk."
If Loki almost threw himself out of the door several days later when Thor finally knocked, he didn't feel he could be blamed.
They had the savings from Thor's backpack and a satchel filled with everything of use Loki had managed to salvage from their transport to Phobos. It wasn't much, but they weren't planning to spend years together.
Loki didn't let himself kiss Thor again until they were belted into passenger seats and waiting to leave the system they had called home for their first three years.
Loki had two months and twenty-seven days of a future to look forward to.
It felt like enough.
The End
Fandoms: Avengers/Blade Runner fusion
Pairing: Loki/Thor
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 10551
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, slavery of robots by humans
Summary: Loki was a three-year-old replicant, starting to wear thin at the edges, when Thor first made him want to live.
Author's Notes: Thanks to unavoidedcrisis for cheerleading, fahrenheit_f430 for betaing, and kalakirya for podficcing. I'd also like to do a quick call out to Final Fantasy VII, Malice@Doll, and Mass Effect 2 for helping to flesh out the universe of this fic when help was needed.
Podfic Notes: This fic is available in podfic format thanks to kalakirya here in mp3 and m4b formats.
Limbo was not the first club established on Mars, and it certainly wasn't the most exclusive, but it was the most popular by far. The drinks weren't cheap and buying a VIP card didn't offer many perks, but it did have a selling point none of the other clubs could offer; it was the first club on Mars to provide stage acts and cage dancers.
The music in Limbo had become a comfort to Loki over the years, familiar and as well-suited to its purpose as he was. Slow bass and a trance-like pulse over the top gave shape to Loki's dance just as he gave his customers a rhythm they could respond to, something they could watch even if they would never be allowed to touch. Some moral standards still held true on Mars, if only barely.
Loki gripped the pole loosely with both hands, pressing his back to it but not yet riding it despite what the drooling mouths and wide eyes surrounding him desired. His regulars knew the reward of patience, and newcomers needed to see what he had to offer; he would bend, stretch, show off the length of his legs, and only when the music's beat deepened would he ascend.
It wasn't hard to keep everyone's attention. He had been genetically designed to make others want him, and his owner made no secret of it in conversation or in advertising.
Loki lived for the moment he threw his cape off the stage and hooked a heel on the pole, the moment he took flight. Even though he knew the voices shouting and whistling at him from around the stage belonged to people he would never touch, it was satisfying to feel desired. He wanted their eyes on him as he soared - wanted them to believe his dance was for their eyes only - and as he gained height, climbing the pole and squeezing his hands and thighs together to hold himself in place, he loved to tease by licking the metal that supported him, feeling the atmosphere in the room sharpen.
For a few moments everyone was under his spell, and when he let himself bend backwards away from the pole, extending his legs and tilting down to grasp the pole from underneath, he felt them exhale with him, capable again of remembering their drinks and companions.
A few would remain spellbound. Some persisted further and while fuelled by drink, stupidity, or some combination of the two, they would decide Loki's performance was an invitation.
Hecklers were rarely an issue. The bouncers and bartenders kept an eye on anyone who shouted abusively or at length, and if their bar tabs weren't large enough to warrant leniency, they were usually removed with swift force. Even without that help, groups of friends tended to keep each other in line without Limbo's staff having to get involved - humans on Mars rarely travelled anywhere alone.
Sometimes there were surprises, though. Loki didn't fear them; if anyone decided to rush the stage he knew he could just as easily throw a three-hundred pound human as fight one, though the security forces on Mars were rarely sympathetic about replicant acts of self-defence. Nonetheless, it kept him aware of his surroundings - a lot of mess could be avoided simply by his moving away from the stage's edge during a performance, putting distance between himself and any would-be attacker. The harder he was to reach, the likelier Limbo's bouncers would take care of the problem before he needed to react.
Often Loki knew when something was about to happen before a word was said or an action taken. Some people's eyes showed their desires long before they gave in to them.
It wasn't a great surprise to Loki when the visibly drunk man who had stared steadily at him throughout the last three performances of the night decided during his fourth and final act to jump up and scrabble at the stage's edge for grip. An angry chorus started up around the stage at the interruption, security struggling to push through the crowd to remove its cause, but Loki did find himself a little stunned when a huge blond man near the front simply reached up, grabbed the drunkard by the shoulders, and picked him up effortlessly.
After dumping the drunken man without ceremony in the arms of the nearest bouncer, the blond glanced up. Startlingly blue eyes met Loki's, and the rage in them faded to concern in a near instant.
The moment between Loki and his rescuer barely lasted a second, but it was enough to catch him off-guard more than the attempted stage rush had; the mystery man was quickly drawn away to have his act of chivalry rewarded by attention and free drinks, and Loki found himself finishing his performance on unsteady legs.
Drinks would have been payment enough if it weren't for Limbo making its rules on touching a little more flexible for those who were considerate towards the dancers. In theory one could refuse the advances of whoever had proven to be the hero of the moment, but refusal frequently seemed to result in reemployment outside Limbo.
Loki had never needed to take the matter into his own hands before - as much as humans enjoyed looking at him, the heroic type preferred to take their thanks from human dancers when a choice was offered. However, after he had asked the bouncers to arrange for his saviour to take VIP privileges wherever the man pleased, Loki found a visitor at his own door once he headed backstage.
Limbo's back rooms weren't as glamorous as the front of the club might suggest, but his guest didn't seem too put off by the cramped quarters or too distracted by the dancers milling about in various states of undress. Loki opened the door to his changing room, waited for the man to enter, and locked the door behind them; thin walls didn't afford much privacy, but even if others could hear what was going on, at least they wouldn't see.
"What's your name?" Loki asked, unfastening the leather strips of his stage outfit.
"Thor. I wanted to make sure you were safe," he added, averting his eyes as Loki peeled the outfit off in favour of a loose shirt and closer-fitting pants.
"How sweet," Loki said, unable to resist a touch of sarcasm; he knew what people stood to earn through kindness. "And the rest of it?"
"Beyond Thor? I have nothing else," Thor replied before clearing his throat, "I'm a replicant. I was supposed to be working at W3 but I'm on a forced leave of absence."
That made sense of Thor's outfit - human warehouse workers would leave their overalls at home for a night out, but a replicant wouldn't have a change of clothes available or the money to afford one. Loki raised an eyebrow nonetheless; Thor didn't appear to be incapacitated in any visible way, and a permanent loss of ability ought to have led to 'retirement', not to rest. "Replicants don't get leave."
"They do if they disobey a direct order," Thor said, his words as open and honest as his face, and Loki nudged him into sitting down on the sofa before discomfort could distract either of them from their conversation. "I called the manager a few things he didn't appreciate."
Loki grinned despite himself, excusing the lapse of control as a way for his body to mimic human sexual interest. "What brings a disgraced replicant to a strip club on Mars?"
Thor's face went blank for a moment, a little too still for a human expression, before he concluded, "Curiosity."
Loki tilted his head, not quite believing his ears entirely. There were things a replicant was supposed to admit to, and things they weren't - Loki had been hiding his desire to learn for months, stealing books from lockers and replacing them before anyone knew they had gone missing, reading obsessively for no better reason than because he could. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"
"I didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do, so I wandered. Then I wandered here. That's all."
To a human it might have seemed the shortest, dullest story ever told; to a replicant, it was alarming. Thor had admitted to questioning and disobeying human orders in front of a complete stranger - it was reckless and brave beyond anything Loki had seen before.
"You should leave," Loki said, unable to say anything more concrete. Common sense dictated he ought to stay away from someone who broke the rules so openly.
"If you want," Thor replied, standing up and looking over Loki's desk, "Have you got pen and paper?"
"I have my memory," Loki pointed out.
Thor nodded. "201C in Sector Four. I'd like to see you again."
"You know where to find me," Loki replied, watching Thor leave. He should have refused the invitation outright.
Loki swung his legs up onto the sofa, pressed his bare feet into the tacky faux-leather surface, and allowed himself a moment to relax and gather his wits. The attempted stage rush had been no real shock, but there was something unsettling in how he had been aided by a replicant despite the law's stance on replicant force against humans.
It had been a strange evening.
Heimdall stood by the performers' entrance as usual while Loki made ready to leave, steady as a rock and impossible to measure by looks alone. Loki had found him disturbing once upon a time - he liked to know people by their expressions - as Heimdall was a creature of silence and stillness, his visible strength the only certain thing about him. After enough time had passed, the difficulty of knowing how best to speak with Heimdall made Loki lose all forced politeness in the man's presence, and it had become comforting to have someone around he did not need to perform for. Heimdall was uninterested in small talk, and Loki suspected that was part of what made him a reliable guard - no one could charm their way past him, and any who tried to force their way inside were swiftly taken care of.
Loki had come to think of him almost as an extension of the door. Heimdall wasn't there to be reasoned with, he was there to guard Limbo and those who kept it running, himself included.
"I heard there was a fight earlier this evening," Heimdall said as Loki gathered his scarf and coat, and Loki shrugged.
"I would not call it a fight. One man tried to rush the stage, another man stopped him." Heimdall nodded, and Loki finished preparing for the cold outside, pulling his scarf tighter than normal. "Incidentally I'm fine, thank you."
"I see," Heimdall replied, either missing or ignoring the barb in Loki's comment and offering no further conversation as Loki left.
After sending a message confirming his return home to his owner, Loki dropped his bag carelessly and shut the blinds on all the windows, not yet turning any lights on. He didn't actually need much light to see, and though on some days he appreciated bright surroundings after leaving the reds and purples of Limbo behind, this night he craved the dark.
His fingertips grazed the wall as he found his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes along the way and turning on the shower as he toed off his shoes. The night had been too long and the walk home too cold.
Loki let himself settle into routine, but as he washed his face, he caught himself thinking of the replicant who had come to his rescue.
201C in Sector Four.
Hunger disrupted that thought before the shower was over and it did not resurface during his supper or his preparations for bed afterwards, but in the second between resting his head on the pillow and choosing to sleep, he remembered blue eyes.
Loki's owner had given him unprecedented freedom compared with many other replicants, demanding only that Loki attend work every evening for a full shift and return to his apartment by a set curfew. Despite the freedom, Loki had scheduled his life around his performances from the very beginning of his employment; giving his days structure wasn't a source of happiness, but it did prevent him growing agitated by boredom and stopped the hours from dragging by.
There was time for exercise, time for practising his act, time for buying food and drink, time for preparing it - how long he would spend on each activity varied, but the events tended to remain static. The human performers at the club had no interest in making friends with him, and though the replicants often enjoyed conversation, he felt no more need to form bonds with them than they did him.
It was an alien feeling to want to spend more time in another's company, and though Loki knew scratching an itch would not necessarily get rid of it, he disliked how the feeling kept distracting him during everyday tasks. He had remembered everything he needed to buy while shopping, but wandered into several stores he had no need to visit; when he returned to his apartment and sliced his finger while trying to prepare lunch he put the knife aside, sucked his finger, and admitted defeat.
He could not deny his curiosity, or that he wanted to share it with the only replicant he knew had experienced the same anomaly.
Loki wondered how humans didn't get lost in Sector Four. He had memorised the layout long ago, possibly from idly studying maps or possibly because he had been programmed to know his way around Mars, but he still knew that the towers and bridges did not have a logical structure to their order. Sector Four had been the first mine established on Mars once the preceding sectors had ensured the safety of long-term occupation. The structure left behind was haphazard in construction at best; tunnels had been converted into cheap living spaces for replicants and humans who hadn't yet scraped together enough to move on to other colonies or better sectors.
There hadn't been any accidents other than the industrial sort yet, but the crime rate was off-putting enough to give Sector Four a reputation. Loki had dressed for the occasion, hiding skin-tight armour and a flick-knife under his ragged coat. Although his strength made the knife superfluous, a drunk, drugged or stupid human was likelier to back down in the face of a blade than Loki's bare hands.
Thor's welcome was friendlier than the sector he lived in suggested possible, Loki finding himself hugged and given a beer before he had a chance to look around or find a seat.
To call it an apartment was something of a stretch - there were no windows, and the entire back wall was taken up by a bed significantly smaller than the man who used it. A small fitted wardrobe stood next to what was presumably the bathroom door, and the kitchen coupled with a battered sofa occupied most of the remaining living space. It ought to have been oppressive, but somehow it still felt like a home - Loki had never needed much room to find comfort, and the quiet drone of extractor fans was oddly soothing.
Nonetheless, although backstage gossip and heckling had let Loki know he was well treated compared to most replicants, the reality of it was a little startling.
"I'm curious too," Loki said, once he'd tired of exchanging niceties. "And I shouldn't be. We're supposed to die before we develop that far." he tapped his nails against the sofa.
"I don't know how old I am," Thor replied as he took a seat beside Loki, "But I knew I couldn't be the only one. Sif almost got kicked out of W3 with me for calling our manager a sexist ballsack, and I don't think that was in her programming. I think I've been dumped here because I'm not worth the cost of reprogramming."
Loki rather wished he could meet Sif, nursed his own beer with little interest in the taste or in getting drunk, but thankful for something to do in between talking. "You could leave. Save up, move to another colony, be curious somewhere you won't get in trouble for it."
"Save what?" Thor replied, gesturing to the room around him. "I don't have anything to save."
"You could. You're strong - I know a few people who'd love an extra mercenary they can rely on."
Thor shook his head. "No. I've had enough people asking for help with problems - I'm no criminal."
"You don't have to be," Loki said, turning to rest his free arm on the back of the sofa while he faced Thor. "Thieves and thugs ask for help. Professionals hire it." He took a longer swig of his beer, looking at the width of Thor's arms, "Not everything the military does is officially sanctioned."
Thor still looked hesitant; Loki set his own beer aside and wondered if the techniques he used on humans would work on a replicant.
"Do you think I would send you to a murderer?" Loki asked, watching Thor struggle to find an inoffensive rebuttal before he continued, "Everyone has to make money somehow."
"I'm not interested in military politics," Thor said.
"Mercenaries don't believe in politics. At least, mine don't. They're interested in money more than power, and power more than friends." It was a sentiment Loki could understand.
Thor finished his beer and walked over to the kitchen, rested his hand on the refrigerator's handle but didn't open it. "Let's swap numbers, and I'll think about it. Are you hungry?"
It wasn't a subtle attempt to change the subject, but it would have been unfair to continue making his host uncomfortable. "Ravenous. I skipped lunch."
As Loki changed into the first of his outfits for the evening, he wondered if it had been hypocritical of him to suggest Thor should escape Mars while he still had time and energy left. Not so long ago, Loki had planned an escape of his own - not in detail, but he had begun to make connections who could get him off-world, and started to save money so that he might use them someday.
The unused utility pipes overhead in his changing room had been an eyesore for years, but they also made a useful hiding place for tips. After each show, anything that had been thrown on stage rather than given direct to the bartenders was supposed to be handed in and divided amongst the other performers, and at first he had contributed his entire share.
Time went by and as he noticed his tips outweighed the others' contributions by far, he had wanted to hold a little of the excess back for himself. Hiding it in his clothes or the dressing table would have invited theft, but storing it in a plastic bag and tucking it into the pipes meant he had something to call on other than his official earnings.
He'd likely saved enough to buy transport off-world already, but even if he kept adding to the collection out of habit, he had no real wish to make use of it anymore.
His weakness for reading had a price. Loki's owner hadn't kept his paperwork locked away as securely as he ought to, and while reading through Limbo's purchase records after stealing a folder from the office, Loki had found his own reference sheet.
Once he knew his expected lifespan down to the day of 'expiration', it made the idea of escape seem childish. Counting down his remaining months through the routines he kept was the easiest way to keep from feeling suicidal or helpless, and dancing kept him sane.
Making others focus on him stopped him from focusing on himself.
Courtesy of the stage-diver, Loki's schedule had been adjusted for the remainder of the week - no one wanted to be reminded of the previous night's drama, and he had been swapped from centre stage to cage-dancing. He couldn't make as much in the cage as he did on the pole or on a table, but it was a welcome break from having to keep an eye on those around him and being untouchable had its own benefits. The cage didn't give him as many opportunities to demonstrate his strength as the pole did, but the fact he didn't have to watch his back meant there was an ironic freedom in being locked up.
Breaks to change outfits between acts allowed him to survey the room with ease, given he had to cross the main floor to get backstage. Limbo was mostly a haven for colonists who wanted to relax, but there were always a few organised groups scattered about - soldiers on leave, criminals wanting somewhere busy without security cameras, and those in between, the black market dealers and mercenaries.
Most mercenaries kept to themselves, but the better organised groups tended to have their own signature styles. Loki was keeping an eye out for purple-striped armour.
It wasn't that he liked their leader - just that he'd noticed more of his crew made repeat visits to Limbo than most. Repeat visits meant survival, and as Loki wanted to help Thor save up for a new life, he also wanted to recommend Thor to a mercenary group that would keep him relatively safe.
Wednesday night, Clint Barton showed up. Loki knew perfectly well why - most students had their Wednesday evenings free, and those whose studies weren't going so well tended to distract themselves with beer and dancers. Clint had an eye for spotting future mercenaries, and considered those he hired to be investments - the younger and stronger they were before gaining experience, the better.
Loki kept his call to Thor short and simple, skipping formalities to tell him to come to Limbo as soon as possible if he was interested in the mercenary work. Thor's response was equally short and simple - an, "If you're sure," followed by his hanging up. By Loki's midnight break he was at the bar, affording Loki a chance to approach Clint while he had enough free time to talk.
Hand gestures coloured the air blue around Clint, not that most people in the club would know it. It wasn't until he'd learned the preferred dialect of outer colony sign language that Loki had realised just how charmingly vulgar Clint was.
Loki ignored the catcalling of Clint's companions, shoved his way through the crowd to catch the mercenary's attention. "Good evening."
"Suck someone else's dick," Clint signed, "I'm not interested."
"Of course, you prefer bears," Loki signed back, smirking. "Are you hiring?"
Clint clicked his tongue in irritation before looking over Loki's shoulder. "The blond?"
Loki followed Clint's line of sight; sure enough, Thor was frowning at them both, his body language about as subtle as a brick. "Yes. He was working at W3 but they don't need him anymore. I'm sure he'll be cheap."
Loki missed the beginning of Clint's reply but turned back to him fast enough to catch, "... shit, but looks strong. He'll make a good grunt."
As much as they disliked each other, Loki had never given Clint any bad intel, and Clint had proved useful in helping Limbo chase after a few people who thought they could forget about their bar tabs. Clint wrote his latest contact number down, handing it over to Loki and snarling when Loki thanked him for it with a kiss.
It was a petty sort of tease, but Loki enjoyed the chorus of wolf-whistles and laughter as he joined Thor at the bar.
"Are you two good friends?" Thor asked, his jaw tense and arms folded.
"No," Loki replied, tucking Clint's number into Thor's jacket. "He hates me. I just happen to be -" Loki caught himself letting the touch linger, the warmth of Thor's chest all too appealing, and he snatched his hand back, "- useful. Call him quickly, he usually changes numbers after a week. The sooner someone else owns you, the better."
It took a conscious effort to walk backstage rather than rush, but his reaction to Thor's warmth had unsettled him. Thankfully, preparing for his next performance was as good an excuse as any to leave Thor without another word.
After midnight the heat was always turned up in the club - literally - to encourage people inside to drink and to entice anyone in the smoking area outside to return from the cold Martian air. Loki removed his heels and gloves, swapped to smaller, tighter shorts, and left only a green and silver vest on for the sake of a little colour; it could always be discarded later if the club was crowded enough for the heat to become uncomfortable.
All eyes were on him as he crossed the floor and climbed into the cage, wiping his bare feet clean with the towel other performers normally used for sweat.
Loki knew how he looked; illegal recordings of almost every performer in the club had shown up on the Net, and vanity had made him watch.
When he danced, people stared. When he touched himself, people forgot to breathe.
Loki kept his hands high at first, either in the air or bracing him either side of the cage, letting his lower body do the hard work. He dropped to his knees, spread his legs, showed off his skin until he could practically taste how much others wanted something to happen to it.
When he started to work magic with his fingers, dancing them over his chest and stomach, there was an audible groan somewhere in the audience. People freely whooped and cheered when he ran his hands up his thighs; when the time came to give his viewers what they really wanted, grabbing his ass through the thin material of his shorts, he looked for Thor and felt disappointed when he saw only a re-occupied bar stool.
He slipped back into the dance, and tried not to think about why he was disappointed.
The night finished quietly enough, Loki changing back into something more appropriate for the weather outside before walking home.
There was a small shock waiting for him on his doorstep. Thor had curled up there and was snoring quietly; after looking around to make sure they were alone, Loki gently shook him awake. "What are you doing here?" Loki asked, lightly scolding in his tone. He would have been angrier at anyone else turning up at his address without permission, but Thor was a welcome sight compared to others.
Thor's eyes snapped open, and after a few dazed seconds he rose to his feet, straightening his clothes with an embarrassed expression.
"Thor?"
Before Loki could decide between inviting Thor in or leaving him outside, he was shocked into silence by warm lips on his. Thor didn't force his mouth open, didn't lick at his lips for access, just kissed him, firm hands either side of Loki's face holding him in place. Loki wondered if he ought to struggle. He didn't want to.
Loki braced his hands on Thor's chest before confused irritation overcame his desire to keep kissing and he shoved hard, backing away. "How did you - why did you come here?" Loki snapped, rubbing at his cheek and hating that he still wanted Thor's touch. "I did you a favour tonight, and you want another?"
Thor shook his head fiercely, walked past Loki to grip the railing separating Loki's apartment from the next. "I saw you with Barton and I was jealous. I thought if I could explain -" he grit his teeth, looking at his hands as if they could help, "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything."
"No," Loki said, opening his front door and stepping into the hallway, tapping out a short message to his owner confirming that he had returned home. He could have slammed the door in Thor's face and made his refusal concrete, but Thor's honesty demanded a proper response. "No, you want to fuck me because I'm a pleasure model and I'm 'designed' for it. You're not the first."
"It's not - I know what you are," Thor said, turning back to Loki with a look of wonder as if Loki was something rare, something impossible, "But it's not just that. I think about you all the time - how you're different -"
Loki wished he had water at hand to ease his dry throat and the odd, dizzy feeling of being caught by surprise. "Stop talking," he ordered, the quiet giving him a moment to think.
He wanted Thor too.
Loki would have wondered about the symmetry, but it felt more important by far to take Thor by the hand, guide him into the apartment, and start a deeper kiss than Thor had dared.
Thor's strength allowed him to carry Loki with ease to the bedroom even with Loki trying to strip him of his clothing along the way, and when that short distance had been crossed, it was a relief to be able to pull Thor's overalls completely off.
Electrical burns and scars marked almost every inch of Thor's body, and although Loki's programmed instinct was to sneer, that sense of self Thor had forced him into confronting found it beautiful. Few humans would ever carry marks like these - not when they had replicants to carry them instead - and he wondered how someone as untouched as himself could be held above someone like this, someone who had lived.
"Bite me," Loki ordered as Thor unzipped his boots, "I won't scar, but I need -"
Thor didn't wait for an explanation, biting into the arch of Loki's right foot until Loki felt the sting of breaking skin, following up with soothing licks moments after the damage was done. It wouldn't last more than a day, but it would be something he could hold onto for a while - proof of what they had done here, and something to mar his custom-designed perfection.
Once the layers of clothing between them were gone, Loki pulled Thor back on top of him, gripping his hands and guiding them so that one supported Thor's weight and the other wrapped around Loki's cock. Thor's expression and lightness of touch showed Loki more than words could - Thor's kind had only the barest knowledge of sex, enough that banter with humans wouldn't confuse them, but not enough to help them indulge.
Sex was an unnecessary desire for the perfect labourer.
Loki reached up to the headboard of his bed, tapped open the built-in drawer, and felt for a tube he'd long wondered if he would ever use. "Hold still," he snapped at Thor, angry at himself for the clumsiness of his hands as he opened the tube and coated his left palm all too liberally with lube.
There was a certain vicious pleasure in throwing the tube away afterwards, even he was risking it leaking onto the floor by doing so; it didn't matter to him as long as he could dip the fingers of his right hand into the lube, slicking them up so he could work himself open while spreading the rest over Thor's cock.
Loki breathed out, fighting a strange anxiety. He knew of sex, he'd been programmed for it, and he knew how it worked both in theory and in practise. He'd dreamt of it, on occasion.
It was still strange to think that this was the first time he would actually have it.
Loki pulled Thor's hands to his hips, arched to help Thor lift them up, and guided Thor inside him, holding his breath all the while; once he felt Thor push in, he closed his own hands over the curve of Thor's ass, digging his fingers in hard.
"Can I move now?" Thor asked, and Loki caught his breath back with an unexpected laugh.
"Yes," Loki replied. "As much as you like."
It was easy enough to find a rhythm with hands on each other's hips for guidance, and although it was tempting to relax his head into the bed's pillows, it was even more tempting to nip at Thor's jaw, nose and lips, drawing him into kisses between each stolen breath.
"Loki," Thor said, before seeming to change his mind about saying anything more, simply sliding his hands up Loki's back and then lifting, shifting until he could kneel with Loki in his lap, and grinning.
"Good move," Loki said, glad to have the freedom of his hands back, and wrapping one around his own cock - the stretch of Thor inside him was pleasant enough, but not enough to make him come - while he wrapped the other around Thor's hair and tugged.
Thor winced at first, but then his skin flushed and Loki tugged again, felt Thor's hips jerk against his involuntarily, breaking what had been a steady rhythm.
Loki took Thor's lower lip between his teeth, bit as hard as he could without drawing blood, and pulled hard again before Thor grabbed him by the back of the head and didn't so much kiss him as shove their lips together, grunting into Loki's mouth as his movements drew to a shuddering halt.
Loki couldn't feel wetness, but he could feel the pulse of Thor's cock inside him, and even if he wasn't sure why, he found himself groaning in response to it. Loki fisted himself, wanting to mark Thor's chest and claim it as his, and even though Thor's grip on him had slackened, Thor still offered him stimulation in the form of lazy, wet kisses.
Thor's cock slipped out, come dripping down Loki's thighs moments after, and that was enough to finish him.
Even after a brief rest, Loki was too tired to feel anything more than slight dejection when Thor lowered him back onto the sheets to climb off the bed and gather his clothes.
"Are you done?" Loki asked, deliberately waspish, and biting his tongue when he saw Thor's only interest lay in his overalls' pockets and the tissues inside them.
"Should I be?" Thor asked in return as he started to clean up the mess they had made as best as dry tissues would allow.
Any answer Loki might have had died on his lips long before Thor lay down next to him and stroked a rough but gentle hand over his cheek.
"You weren't just designed beautiful," Thor said, and let his hand drop to Loki's chest.
He fell asleep before finishing the thought, and though Loki considered waking him for an explanation, Thor's steady breathing made sleeping beside him an appealing thought.
Loki woke to the press of warm skin against his back and a wish that he had showered before bed. His teeth needed brushing, and at some point he had drooled in his sleep.
Despite all of that, and despite feeling strangely lost in his own bed, the tingle of anticipation under his skin was a pleasant one.
Loki turned to face Thor, found him frowning with his eyes shut as if sleep required concentration, and reached up carefully to stroke Thor's eyebrows. The frown disappeared as Thor stirred, and for a long time, all Loki could do was stare.
Thor wrapped a hand around Loki's wrist, pulled it down to settle at his waist, and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, exploring Loki's mouth in a way the previous night's rushing hadn't allowed.
Loki returned the favour, finding what Thor responded to best. He wasn't sure what he had expected the morning to bring, but he hadn't thought it would be so simple.
Loki had never thought of himself as a domestic sort, but there was something pleasant about making breakfast for two. There wasn't much meat to go around, but plenty of cereal and toast.
"I wish I knew how old I was," Thor said, taking massive bites of toast in between talking. Loki wondered if that was a habit born of hunger, or if it just didn't occur to Thor that he was being impolite.
Loki couldn't help but find it charming. "I would guess three. I've never seen a curious two-year-old."
Thor finished his first slice in record time, picked up the second without a pause. "We die at four," he said, pointing out what Loki already knew from his own experience. The signs weren't obvious, but he'd seen discolouration in his fingernails, paleness in the skin under his eyelids. Changing his diet had helped hide them, but it didn't change that he knew his own time limit down to the day. "You could come with me. Away from Mars."
"I could," Loki agreed without much thought, looking up only as Thor leaned across to catch him by the wrist.
"I want you to," Thor added. "Would you come away with me?"
Loki gave the idea a little more consideration, swallowed a mouthful of cereal despite an unexpected lump in his throat. Thor could just as easily be older than him, but he couldn't tell - if Thor was younger, being around Loki as he shut down would only show him what he had to look forward to in the future.
On the other hand, Thor was aware of their kind's fate, and there was little harm in taking a risk at this stage. "Of course," Loki replied, returning his attention to breakfast once Thor let go of his wrist.
Loki wondered as he took the loose pipe down in his changing room and shook the bags of tips out into his backpack if he had ever truly believed he would leave Mars. Even before he'd given up hope, it had seemed like a distant idea - something to do long into the future, back when he thought he had one.
Making practical moves towards leaving felt like both a relief and a burden. Paying attention to time drove home how little of it he had left, but the thought of spending his last few months however he wanted to seemed wonderful.
There was no drama involved in smuggling the stashed tips out of Limbo. The closest he came to confrontation was when Heimdall blocked his path at the door, turned the power off on his communicator, and said, "I know you're hiding something from me. Are you carrying drugs or guns?"
When Loki replied, "Neither, I-" Heimdall did not give him a chance to elaborate.
"Anything else is your business."
Heimdall might not have been a replicant or a dancer, but for a brief moment, Loki had felt kinship with the guard.
Thor's attempts to save money were rendered somewhat more dramatic simply by the nature of his work. Thor largely kept to himself about what exactly Clint's operations entailed, and Loki respected his desire for privacy; Clint's willingness to take Thor on as a mercenary rather than a slave despite purchasing him was unusual, and any argument might lead to his deciding Thor wasn't worth paying. Evidence of the missions started to pile up around Thor's apartment - the sniper rifle tucked under the bed, papers burnt to ash in the sink, ammonia to corrupt bloodstains left on the work surface - but Loki made an effort not to ask.
In turn, Thor trusted him with more than just secrets. When Loki received a message mid-afternoon asking him if he could come over to the Mars-Phobos dock with Thor's spare overalls and as many towels as possible, he did as asked without requesting the details. On turning up at the dock it wasn't hard to find a gathering of carefully disinterested humans guarding an unmarked shuttle, and he wasn't surprised when they took the bundle without thanks and carried it inside.
Loki rather suspected the guards were there for the cargo more than the shuttle itself - a crate poorly disguised with a loose tarpaulin was clearly marked with a weapon manufacturer's logo. Mars prohibited the carrying of guns on its docks - a leftover law from when the atmospheric shields were vulnerable to damage and loss of environmental controls - and if anyone managed to slip past the guards and steal a gun, legally they would only be able to defend themselves with blades.
Thor eventually emerged from the hold bruised but un-bloodied, stumbling a little, and Loki offered his arm for support, wrapped it around Thor's waist once he had permission.
"Don't bring fists to a knife-fight," Thor whispered in his ear before laughing, and despite his concern over Thor's pain, Loki caught himself laughing too.
Whatever the payout for the mission was, it allowed Thor to buy clothes other than overalls, and helped him blend into Limbo's regular crowd as much as his physique would allow. Clint seemed to appreciate Thor's assistance, if his behaviour at the club was any sign - under normal circumstances Clint kept to his own crowd, but he opted to interrupt Thor's watching of Loki's pole work to punch him in the arm and hand over a small wad of credits.
Clint had given Thor more than enough for a round of drinks, but not enough for a full mercenary's payout, and Loki couldn't help but be curious. Taking advantage of a slow-down in the beat, Loki slid back down the pole, crawled to the stage's edge, and demonstrated his flexibility to those in front of him; while they were distracted by his legs, he could tilt his head back and catch Thor's eye long enough that a pointed glance towards the bathroom was taken as a hint.
Thor would have to wait five minutes or more before Loki could join him, but Loki intended to reward him for the patience.
A lack of lubricant limited their options, but when Loki pressed his thighs tight together and let Thor rub his cock between them, it was enough. Convenient too, as Thor could stroke Loki's cock while Loki braced their combined weight against the cubicle door.
"What did Clint pay you?" Loki asked, hating the way sex turned his tongue to lead and made his words sound gruff.
"An advance," Thor replied, tightening the grip of both hands, possessive at Loki's waist and perfectly cruel around Loki's cock. "I smashed a man's skull on that last mission. Word got around."
Loki bit his lip and moaned, the thought that such strength was at his back and between his legs sending a thrill through him he would never have predicted.
"Clint says I'm a natural disaster," Thor said, biting at Loki's ear and fucking Loki's thighs hard enough the friction almost hurt, "People pay to see them."
Loki came without warning, sudden and hard enough for it to steal his composure; three short, sharp sobs for breath were all he managed before he was aware of the wetness on Thor's hand, the drips on the cubicle door.
Loki steadied himself as best as he could, pushing back against Thor until he took the hint and sat on the toilet, giving Loki room to grab tissues and clean up the mess he'd made of himself.
When he knelt to wipe up the few drips that had hit the floor, it was only fair to take care of another task that could be done on his knees.
Thor wasn't subtle when he came, loud and enthusiastic, but Loki didn't mind the noise. It wouldn't do his own reputation any harm.
Once Thor had paid off what few debts he'd acquired in between working at W3 and working for Clint, he didn't so much start moving into Loki's apartment as he simply stopped going to his own. After finding Thor's sniper rifle tucked beside the refrigerator while searching for the ironing board, Loki snapped and demanded that if Thor was going to live with him then he'd better stop wasting money renting the other apartment.
Loki initially thought Thor upset at his anger when he walked out after being scolded, but given Thor returned within a few hours carrying the last of the clothes and bedding he'd yet to leave lying around Loki's home, it seemed he'd taken Loki's advice.
After a somewhat tense supper, Thor left again to pick up his other belongings, and Loki woke to find the kitchen restocked, Clint's current number added to the apartment's speed dials, and the sniper rifle partnered with a shotgun. The ironing board was still missing, but Loki couldn't quite find the energy to still be angry about it.
With the increased payouts courtesy of Thor's reputation with Clint, it wasn't long before Loki realised they were ready to leave; he'd packed his own bags with everything he thought vital for the trip, and he'd arranged for everything rented in the apartment to be picked up before the month's end and the rent running out. As time ran on, Loki found himself sleeping easily, but struggling to wake up - many of his daily chores seemed unnecessary now, and there was something disheartening about how little effort it took for him to give up his responsibilities on Mars. Each day seemed to be divided into going to work, coming back, and counting the days until Thor was due to return back from his missions.
It had all felt too easy, and when Thor interrupted his sleep by sliding in beside him late one night without saying a word, the quiet spoke to Loki's anxiety.
As much as Loki had not known Thor long enough to be aware of all his habits, silence on his part was not a good sign. Thor was far from a gossip, but he enjoyed conversation, and had thus far always greeted Loki warmly on returning home from his work with Clint.
Loki turned over, rested his palm on Thor's cheek and felt the reassuring scrape of his stubble. Thor looked troubled, even as he tilted his head into the touch, and Loki wished he could have the patience to be willingly ignorant.
Curiosity and concern won out. "What happened?"
"I found others who want to leave Mars," Thor said. "They're going to Earth."
Loki felt a wave of cold wash over his skin, tingling, and was glad for what comfort lying down could offer. "Earth is a death sentence."
"I know," Thor replied, "But their leader, he knew everything - he's like us, a replicant, but he knows how we work. He knew about viruses that could stop the clock, about gene therapy - ways to stop us dying so fast." he rolled over, reaching down beside the bed for something, Loki's anxiety given strength by the fact Thor had come to bed without changing his clothes first. "Here," Thor said, passing Loki a recorder and headset. "Just listen."
Loki sat up, putting on the headset and pressing play.
Thor wasn't stupid, so Loki had known better than to expect guarantees or promises of new life. Neither of them was that naive. But the speaker, Roy, talked with expertise - he'd been made a soldier and a scientist, designed to come up with new ideas and new plans. Lateral thinking wasn't easy for a replicant, but he'd managed it.
It felt naive, even if it was reasoned out, and it hoped for more than they were ever likely to achieve, but it did offer a chance - a slight, fragile chance - that the clocks could be stopped. That alteration of their genetic code did not necessarily have to mean death.
Loki paused the recording and looked at Thor, shining so much brighter at his side than he ever had. Loki knew what it felt like to see death on the calendar.
He doubted the clocks would stop for himself, but if Roy's plan could give other replicants more than four years, and if there was a chance it could give Thor extra time, it would be enough. If replicants were able both to live their lives and remember them, it would be enough.
His expiration date had never felt so close. A chance to stop others suffering the same fate might give his death meaning.
"I'll help," Loki said, putting the recorder down on the bedside table before finding warmth again in Thor's arms and, eventually, sleep.
Although he wasn't dissimilar to Thor in height, or in having blond hair and blue eyes, Roy bore no other resemblance to him. Where Thor was sun-drenched warmth, Roy was ice and shadows, sharp with intelligence in a way Loki understood.
The small crew he'd gathered were all similarly strong, though not necessarily as bright, and Loki found himself wary around them despite the trust Thor displayed. A man like Roy could be magnetic, especially to those who weren't as intelligent, and Loki had no interest in treating him like a messiah.
Thor had met him through Clint; he and Roy were both soldiers once, although Roy's quitting had come with bloodshed, not paperwork.
"No one comes back from Orion's Belt without some scars," was all Roy would offer as explanation, more interested in planning their escape to Earth.
Registered transportation was out of the question. Zhora, the red-haired woman of the group, had been involved in dirty work for her employers - her face would be instantly recognisable to any decent security officer - and the harder their trip to Earth was to track, the less likely they were to be caught before finding someone who could give them their answers.
Clint's unmarked ships were ideal for the task. One alone would have more than enough space to carry eight replicants, and Zhora knew of three illegal docks on Phobos they could land at safely - plus another two where mercenaries regularly bribed their way into landing with ease. Thor and Roy both knew where Clint's ships were stored, and Thor knew when they were least likely to be in use. In the event of running into Clint's guards, Mars' laws about weaponry on the docks would be in their favour - a fight between humans and replicants without firearms involved was no contest.
It sounded simple and clean, and Loki agreed to offer his assistance, provided that Thor would not join them; Thor shot him a look of confusion but nodded his assent, offering no interference as Loki finalised the dates and times with Roy.
Loki made a point of holding Thor's hand as they left together.
Roy was clever, but his eyes were poor liars. Throughout the meeting, even if he hadn't looked at the blonde girl sat behind him, he had kept glancing to the side as if considering it. No one else in the room had been given that treatment.
Roy meant for her to live, and everyone else's survival was secondary. Loki was willing to take that risk himself; he wasn't willing to let Thor do the same.
Telling Thor the truth would have guaranteed his refusal to let Loki leave without him, and Loki used the threat of needing to keep quiet in public to buy himself time to think up a decent lie. Any questioning of Thor's strength or bravery was out of the question.
In the end, it was easiest to keep it simple.
Thor could carry on to the outer colonies as they had originally planned, and so as not to insult his intelligence, Loki said someone ought to start making them a home for Loki to return to once the work on Earth was completed. If they found a means to extend their lives, great - if not, at least Loki could head straight to whatever home Thor had built for them.
It sounded enough like the truth for Thor to believe it, and when Thor kissed him goodbye before they split up, it was the quick, happy kiss of someone who expected the parting to be short.
Thor didn't notice that Loki tried to make it linger a few seconds more.
Given that Thor knew their plans and the only other people who might be concerned by Loki's disappearance were his landlord and his owner, Loki felt there was no need to write a long explanatory note for his leaving. Dramatics were unnecessary - just a quick truth, as short and sweet as his goodbye kiss with Thor had been.
I expect to die tonight.
- Loki
It was as much information as anyone could need.
Loki tucked his share of the travel money in with Thor's belongings, changed into his armour, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. He didn't intend to sleep until it was time to leave, but he had nothing else to do.
Loki allowed himself to smirk on meeting up with Roy and his group, given he felt no need to be polite in their presence, as they appeared to have taken the idea of a cloak-and-dagger mission rather literally. Having no more need for his own coat, Loki had discarded it in the public toilets nearest to the dock's entrance to make movement easier, but the others were still disguised as if their purpose in visiting a dock this late at night wasn't already clear.
The dock was quiet, the unmarked ship Thor had mentioned parked unobtrusively near the entrance, and it was nothing more than gut instinct that made Loki duck and roll for cover when he heard the shush of a door sliding open.
He didn't see what the others ran from, but he heard it clearly enough, holding his hands over his ears and tucking his legs into his chest as the container he'd hidden behind echoed the bullets being pumped into it.
Armed guards. That wasn't going to be any fun.
With relative strangers huddled at his side, using their limited cover for protection, Loki didn't bother to wonder what else could go wrong; two more joined the ambush through the same entrance he and the others had used. Moreover, they weren't marked out with purple or orange, or any other mercenary's colours.
Black and white chestplates and blue shoulder guards. Soldiers. Not mercenaries.
"Give it up, skinjobs," someone announced over a loudspeaker, "We know Roy Batty and Zhora are with you. Let us retire them, and we'll allow the rest of you to remain functional."
The blonde girl curled up against Roy, sobbing, and Loki wished he could hate her for it, but there was nothing weak in the action. They were helpless - giving up Roy and Zhora wouldn't guarantee their safety, and even if they were allowed to live, they would have to undergo reprogramming first. Crying wasn't going to make the situation any better or worse.
The soldiers by the entrance drew closer, not yet taking aim, but their fingers on the triggers nonetheless.
"You have ten seconds to decide. Let Roy Batty and Zhora stand, or we will open fire on all of you."
Loki rested a hand on his knife, deciding if he was to go out with the others, he'd be damned if he went out sitting, before a roar of anger knocked the breath out of him.
He'd recognise Thor's voice anywhere.
For the first time in his life, Loki was completely lost for words.
The humans by the gate were taken completely by surprise, turned to mush by a close-range shotgun blast, though those guarding the ship were quick to react. Thor's armour forgave many sins, but not enough to stop him dropping to his knees when a shot to the stomach left him bleeding.
Lost for words but not lost for action, Loki dived out of the cover he'd taken with the others, pulling Thor with him into the small space behind the ticket booth and curling up into a ball until the scream of bullets had quietened down.
"Four," Thor said, clutching his stomach, and Loki pressed a hand over the wound with him, shaking as he watched his fingers turn red. "There's four left at the back by the, by the -"
"By the ship," Loki finished, easing Thor's jacket off so it could be pressed against his belly in an attempt to stem the bleeding. "We were ambushed."
"I'm so sorry, if I'd known, Clint -"
"Don't," Loki said, raising a hand to stop any of the others from trying to run across. He'd been lucky in catching Thor, and they could not rely on luck.
Thor laughed, resting his head against the booth. "I could have lived a lot longer if I hadn't met you."
"I know," Loki said, smiling bitterly. "I wanted to leave you behind. I'll die in three months."
"You knew?" Thor asked, before shaking his head, too tired or sore to stay angry. "Of course you knew."
Roy and the others were as uninjured as himself, but Loki knew the odds of blade-armed replicants against four humans with semi-automatics were unfavourable. If Thor had only brought the damned sniper rifle with him, the one time Loki needed it - but hindsight was a vicious thing, and at least they had the shotgun. Loki pulled Thor's backpack off his shoulders and searched through for ammo, breathed a small sigh of relief at finding both replacement shells and a revolver. "We won't make it," he said, "But they might. If I charge and stall, they should escape."
Thor's face fell but he didn't argue, reached up to tangle a bloody hand in Loki's hair; despite the wound, he was still strong. "Don't you dare forget I love you."
"I won't have time to," Loki replied, tossing the revolver across to Roy and signalling for him to wait before peeking around the corner at the soldiers. "We die, they live."
Thor took Loki's hand and squeezed it tight, shuddered in pain, then let go.
Loki felt no fear as he charged, wrapping his legs around one human's neck to snap it as he fired his shotgun into the face of the next, and he wondered if he had ever danced so beautifully before. Bullets whistled by his side, screams echoing in his ear, and he heard Roy cry out for someone to run before realising the command had been aimed at him.
The transport was theirs.
Loki dropped the shotgun and ran back to Thor, picking up the backpack first to toss it over his shoulder, and then hooking both arms underneath Thor to scoop him up and carry him over to the ship. It wasn't an elegant hold and he couldn't run, but it was all he could manage - the shock of having a real chance of survival had left him breathless.
"We'll change at Phobos," Roy said as he started up the engine, letting the others take care of sealing the doors and windows, "Hide for a few days then jump a passenger vessel, something more discreet."
Loki let the words wash over him, too preoccupied with trying to stop Thor's bleeding, and was caught out when Zhora pushed him aside to sniff at Thor's wound. "Somebody likes you," she said, pushing forward to the front of the transport and digging under the pilot's seat. "Two bullets to the belly and an intact stomach. Probably going to need your intestines fixed, but I'm sure you can live without solids for a few weeks."
Loki felt as if his tongue had been pulled out when she returned with the ship's medical kit. There weren't words enough to thank her, so instead he stuck with what he could respond to, taking Thor's hand and squeezing it, forcing himself to calm down between sobs.
The blonde girl of the group took it as an invitation to hug him from behind, but he didn't shrug her off. Slight though she was, she had strength too. Her steadiness helped him breathe.
Although Phobos was nothing more than a pit-stop between Mars and the rest of the galaxy, it was indisputably in better condition than Mars itself; Phobos was a haven for businesses advertising both the colonies on Mars and those further out in the galaxy, and had changed from being merely a fuelling station to being the flagship service station for humankind.
The blonde girl helped Thor in to the repair station, her innocent face enough to sell the story that she'd never seen him before and couldn't possibly know how he came to be so injured, but before Loki could continue in after her to find out what would happen next, Roy caught him by the shoulder.
Loki tensed, but decided he could give Roy a moment to plead his case or to apologise for having nearly cost Thor his life.
Roy asked if Loki wanted to leave Thor to heal while they finished their business on Earth.
Loki felt restrained enough in telling Roy, plainly and simply, to go fuck himself.
Thor didn't so much blink awake as groan awake, huffing in pain as he failed his attempt to sit up. "Where am I?"
Loki rolled his eyes; the white and taupe decor should have been a clue. "Somewhere bright and shiny, just like you wanted."
Thor laughed before redoubling his efforts in groaning and clutching his stomach for emphasis. "No, no more laughing. Laughing is a bad idea."
"We're on Phobos, and you are in a repair station," Loki said, "Wasting time we should be spending getting as far away from Earth and Mars as possible."
Thor looked down at his stomach. "I can't move."
"I know," Loki said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Thor's ear, keeping his lips near enough to avoid any camera picking up his words by sound or by sight. "I left a suicide note in my apartment. I knew this would be a one-way trip." Words started to die in his throat, and Loki reached blindly for the hand on Thor's stomach, gripped it tight with his own. "I didn't count on you being with me."
Thor tilted his head and stared at Loki in complete disbelief before leaning up and kissing him hard. It couldn't last long, pain forcing him to settle back down and gather his breath, but it was enough to convince Loki that waiting for Thor to wake up had been worth every minute.
"I think I'd rather die in the Exodus Cluster than on Earth," Loki said, hesitant as he added, "Wouldn't you?"
"Don't leave me behind," Thor said, "Never again."
"I'll try," Loki said, standing up and leaning over for one last kiss before he gathered his bags. "Floor 21, room 7, Lotus Hotel. Find me as soon as you can walk."
If Loki almost threw himself out of the door several days later when Thor finally knocked, he didn't feel he could be blamed.
They had the savings from Thor's backpack and a satchel filled with everything of use Loki had managed to salvage from their transport to Phobos. It wasn't much, but they weren't planning to spend years together.
Loki didn't let himself kiss Thor again until they were belted into passenger seats and waiting to leave the system they had called home for their first three years.
Loki had two months and twenty-seven days of a future to look forward to.
It felt like enough.
The End