Avengers: Obloquy 1/3 - NC17 - Tony/Loki
Yes, more Avengers. But this is the Muzzle!Kink story, but it sort of ran away with me… and turned into an epic love/angst-story, instead of the PWP oneshot it was supposed to be. But there’s plenty of Muzzle!sex at least. Enjoy?
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“Obloquy”
Disclaimer: The Avengers, Tony, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: [Tony/Loki] Tony spent a lot of his time under the influence of alcohol, usually resulting in blatantly awful ideas and leading to some rather unsavoury situations. Attempting to seduce the bound and gagged Norse God of Mischief had to be one of his better ideas.
Warnings: Slash. Tony/Loki. Through and post-Avengers. Missing Scene. Language. AU. Creepiness. FrostIron. Muzzle!sex… Slightly dub-con. Mentions of past rape. Implied possibility of mpreg.
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: Was having a conversation on LJ, and this came up, and oh my god… I am disturbed. But this was so fucking hot in my head; hopefully it translated well, to, well, not paper, but well! (aislingsiobhan (dot) tumblr (dot) com / post / 26084370535 / fanfic-flamingo See the second two)
Title: Obloquy (noun). Meaning: disgrace; shame; infamy; ignominy; disfavour; dishonour; humiliation; disrepute; mortification; misery. It just sounded cooler than ‘degradation’.
XXX
Words: 9,336
Chapter 1/2a
Tony should have known that things were never as easy as they appeared to be. Fighting the Chitauri was difficult, yes, but in the scheme of things, (in his sphere of things), they had only lost one man: Coulson. Loki had allowed himself to be captured, had allowed SHIELD to take him back to the Helicarrier and attempt to contain him. But now that the Chitauri were all dead, blown sky high - or higher than the sky in this case - and right about the time that Tony would have been running for the hills if he had been the one to stir this shit up, Loki sat calmly at the base of the stairs in Tony’s bar room, smiling tiredly up at them.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that drink now,” Loki said, attempting a one shouldered shrug, because he couldn’t actually move his left shoulder all that much right now.
It was too easy, too simple, Tony thought as he poured Loki the drink he had promised him earlier. He poured himself one while he was at it, and then another for himself while Loki drank his first. Tony dealt in problems, in solving them, and the harder they were to crack the more he enjoyed them. Loki was a puzzle, one of the Sunday Times mind-melting crosswords where all of the clues were rhymes without rhyme or reason and only the truly dedicated ever finished them, but Tony had figured Loki out earlier. But he couldn’t figure him out now, and that irked him.
Tony poured himself a third drink, watching curiously as Clint dragged Loki to his feet. The rest of the team ignored the way Loki hissed, his right arm moving instinctively to clutch at his left shoulder, before Natasha was there, grabbing it, pulling it behind Loki’s back and pinning it there. They handcuffed his hands behind his back, and Loki grimaced with every footstep he was forced to take, and he bit his bottom lip so that he wouldn’t cry out as Thor grabbed hold of his broken arm and dragged him to the landing helicopter.
They all managed to fit inside, but it was a tight squeeze, and Loki ended up pressed against the side of Tony Stark. He shifted, mostly from pain, unable to find a comfortable position to rest in and also because every time he brushed against the human, Tony had to stifle a gasp.
To distract himself from his own unease, Tony glanced at Hulk who was huddled up in the corner, as far away from anyone else as he could manage. The others cringed away from the other guy, except Thor who still thought of all humans as tiny and petty, and Tony whose life had been saved twice by the Big Guy and who wasn’t afraid of him for his own reasons. Loki especially cringed away, trying to sink into the seat whenever Hulk so much as twitched in his direction.
“You really worked him over, big fella, huh?” Tony chuckled, taking a swig from the nagan of whiskey he had brought along with him. Of his whole tower, the bar had survived with the least damage, but Tony planned to do a little damage of his own to it as soon as he was debriefed and released from SHIELD.
“Hulk smash,” the Hulk agreed gruffly, glancing curiously at the man of metal that grinned back at him proudly.
Loki hurt, he hurt terribly. But he had had worse. He tried not to think of the Chitauri, or of Thor pinning him down while Odin sewed his mouth shut, or of Svaðilfari for his first time, tearing him in two. Instead, he thought of vengeance and defeat and how one could be achieved through the other, without power, without an army. He only needed one other to help him, just one, and Loki thought of Tony Stark and the way the man pressed against him unwillingly, but unwilling to pull away simultaneously, and Loki could smell the desire upon him like cologne. It was strong, and heady, and it made Loki’s head spin from more than the pain or the fear or the humiliation.
So he pressed closer to Tony, his side plastered to Tony’s side, every inch touching, and Loki turned his upper body so that he could rest his head on Tony’s shoulder as he pretended to fall asleep. He didn’t smirk, though he wanted to, as one by one the others fell asleep and the Hulk turned back into Bruce, and Tony stayed awake carding his fingers through Loki’s hair.
Tony still thought it had gone too easily, even after they had arrived at SHIELD’s backup base. Loki’s hands were still cuffed behind his back, and Tony’s head was buzzing from the alcohol, but everyone else bar the pilot was still sleeping. Soldiers were running towards them, decked out in full riot gear, blacked out masks pulled down to protect their faces and guns raised before they’d even reached the helicopter. Tony, figuring it was best to get this over with as soon as possible, to get Loki locked up before he tried anything because fuck everyone knew Loki was going to try something, moved to wake Thor.
He stopped though; arm outstretched to poke Thor who slept on Loki’s other side. Tony glanced down, wary but not altogether disgusted (though that thought disgusted him, because fuck it all he was finally in a functional monogamous relationship with a woman he loved, so he shouldn’t be reacting to this), and Loki nuzzled sleepily against his chest again, moaning ‘Stark’ softly as he woke up. Blood rushed south, and Tony swallowed heavily regretting the fact that he hadn’t brought a bigger bottle with him because he suddenly wanted a drink: it would occupy his hands and his mouth and shut up his brain, because the thoughts he was having? They weren’t something he’d want to share with the rest of the Avengers.
Loki, who hadn’t been asleep at all, grinned softly into Iron Man’s chest. His elbow was by Tony’s lap, but through the metal he couldn’t feel a reaction, though the human had certainly had one.
“I want you,” Loki whispered, still pretending to be half asleep. He glanced up, eyes heavy lidded and mouth parted, panting shallowly as if he had just woken from a very imaginative dream, and Tony’s eyes almost rolled back in his head.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Tony said instead, pulling down the face plate of his helmet and shaking Loki’s shoulder. “You awake yet? Good. Thor, wake up, come on!”
Thor stirred feebly. The god grunted something and turned his face away from Tony’s prodding finger. Tony poked him harder. Unfortunately, Tony had to lean across Loki to reach Thor. Loki regretted that his hands were tied behind his back and not at his front. Instead, he raised a knee, running it lightly across Tony’s leg, forcing back the self-satisfied smirk that threatened to burst across his face as Tony shuddered under his touch.
Someone pounded on the door of the helicopter. The pilot leaned back over his seat, noticed that Tony was moving and shouted, “Open her up will you, Stark?”
His voice did what Tony’s questing hands had failed to do, and Thor shot off his seat like he had been electrocuted. His hammer was in his hand, and immediately scathing comments were dripping from Loki’s tongue like poison.
“Hold your tongue, brother, lest you lose the privilege of using it,” Thor threatened, angry and tired and sore.
“It would not be the first time you forced such brutality upon me, brother!” The word was spat like it was a curse, and Thor turned away in shame, looking like he regretted his comment, but then more vitriol followed, like water after a dam had been burst, and Thor shut Loki up the only way he knew how. Loki would have held his hand to his cheek if he could have, but he settled for turning his face away, beating down the magic inside of him that had already healed his shoulder, arm and leg, and sought to heal his bruised cheek. Leave it there, his mind said, let everyone know how noble my brother truly is, he told his magic.
Tony glanced at the bruise, wincing slightly, because Loki was tied up and beat up and it didn’t seem right to keep beating on him when he was relatively defenceless. But he’d had enough sympathy for the devil for today, Tony told himself, ignoring the way that Loki was keeping the bruised cheek facing him as Thor woke the others up.
“What did you think you were going to achieve, Rudolph?” Tony asked, hoping for another clue to put towards all of the others, one more piece of the puzzle.
Loki ignored the name that was likely another Midgardian insult. But he turned to fully face Tony again, a small smile curving his lips up, and he looked beautiful. It took Tony’s breath away for a moment, and the man had to shake himself and remind himself that this man - god, being, wanker, whatever - was a murderer and so very, very dangerous and Tony had enough dangerous vices as is without adding one more to his repertoire.
“What I wanted.”
Tony gave a soft snort. He grabbed one of Loki’s bound arms, waiting until Natasha had the other, before they started pulling him from the helicopter. “And what did you want?” Tony asked sometime later, as he led Loki towards his new cell. There was no glass this time, just feet upon feet of reinforced concrete and a nifty little spell Fury had arranged for Dr Strange to cast with little to no notice. Loki wasn’t escaping from this one, no matter who came to rescue him.
“And what was it you wanted? Glory, infamy, the money? Cause I have to tell you, supervillians don’t actually earn all that much in the comics. They do get beat up a lot though, but you’d know all about that already, right?” Tony opened the door, and pushed Loki through it.
Loki turned, that strangely appealing half smile still on pale pink lips. “The question, Stark,” the sound of his name, in that breathy whisper, made Tony’s legs shake from desire, “is what you want!” Loki surged forward, and for one second Tony thought ‘shit, I knew it had been too easy, he’s going to fucking kill me’, but then cold, chapped lips were pressed against his and Loki’s chest was bumping against his as the man stumbled without arms to help keep his balance. But Tony’s hands were on Loki’s waist, holding him up and holding him steady, and Loki pressed his mouth harder, parted his lips a little, and invited Tony’s tongue inside to play.
Tony had never been one to refuse a lady, or well, male god in this case, and kisses were kisses right? Loki found himself pressed back against the wall, beside the door, outside of the cell he should have been contained in. His hands were pinned behind his back still, and Tony’s mouth devoured his furiously.
“What do you want, Stark?” Loki whispered after Tony had pulled away from him to breathe. “I know what I want.” Vengeance, and revenge, and death, and degradation, and humiliation, and anger, and shame, and punishment, and glory, and praise, and pride, and love, and want, but he couldn’t have any of those things yet. Not yet. But for now this would do. And so he kissed Tony Stark again.
Tony kissed back, drowning in the taste of Loki in his mouth, the knowledge that he was bound and defenceless (but not really and that was the thrill, Loki was letting him do this, Loki wanted this) turned Tony on more than anything else ever had, more than anyone he had ever experienced. He almost felt guilty for cheating on Pepper, but honestly, she knew him better than he knew himself, and how often did one get the opportunity to fuck a god? The bragging rights alone were worth Pepper’s hurt, and her anger Tony’s could bribe her out of, just like he always did with her disappointment.
Loki tasted like morphine, addicting and freeing and light. Tony almost didn’t hear the voices of the soldiers who were meant to be guarding Loki for the night. They were taking it in shifts of four at a time, every five hours, and they rounded the corner just as Tony pulled back and shoved Loki away from him. Coincidence would have it that Loki fell backwards through the open doorway, sprawling across the floor with his arms pinned and his legs spread invitingly, and through the pain and humiliation and the laughter from the guards Loki noticed Tony lick his lips. Loki smirked, because he knew what Tony wanted.
Tony left after closing the door and locking it. He left Loki in the care of the guards, surprised to note that there were no cameras around.
Tony went back to SHIELD, and then to Pepper, and he started work on rebuilding his tower. All the while, the taste of Loki lingered on his lips, and burned through his veins like morphine, and once the effects wore off, once Tony had come down from the high that was his newest vice, he craved.
XXX
Tony spent a lot of his time under the influence of alcohol. Such time usually resulted in Tony having blatantly awful ideas and leading to some rather unsavoury situations. Visiting Loki a second time, kissing him a second time was one of those really bad ideas that he’d had while drunk, but like a drug Loki burned his way through Tony’s system and left Tony wanting more afterwards. Always more.
Tony had got drunk again, so drunk he couldn’t quite see straight, but he’d managed to bribe the guards watching Loki into letting him inside for a little while. He’d told them he was experimenting with magic and that Fury would fucking love him when he was done, and they’d taken his money and returned his shit-eating-grin and let him into the cell. Loki had lain, hands tied behind his back and one leg chained to the bed, fast asleep, while Tony installed his own surveillance system inside the cement box room.
It was like an obsession, a dependency. Tony’s fingers literally twitched if he didn’t get to see Loki, hear him, or kiss him at least once every two days.
It was taking weeks to sort out Loki’s punishment: Thor wanted to bring him to Asgard; Odin felt earth should decide Loki’s fate in this lifetime and Jötunheimr his fate in the next since gods lived much longer than humans did and the Midgardians would die first. Thor wanted to bring Loki to Asgard; Fury wanted him boiled in tar, maybe feathered too for spite, or dragged through the street naked behind Captain America on his motorcycle. Tony didn’t really want to know what went through Fury’s mind when he was angry, because his curses were colourful enough without the, likely traumatising, mental picture that went with them.
It was during the third week that Tony watched, knocking back tequila like it was water, as Loki finally pushed Thor too far. Thor had been Loki’s firmest supporter, his only defender but Loki had said something about ‘Jane’ and leered at Thor while licking his lips. There might have been something there about Loki escaping solely to give this Jane what she was obviously missing out on from Thor, something about her not coming looking for more whereas Loki had Stark salivating over him at every opportunity… or, you know, something to that effect. Tony wasn’t quite sure what was actually said and what he had hallucinated, because he’d had to shake his head quite a few times to clear it when he finally realised Thor was screaming and not pleading.
Tony shook his head again, rubbing angrily at his eyes as they blurred. There were two Thors in the room. And then there was one, and then there was none. Thor was gone from the room, but the door was still open. Loki was chained to the bed, but he seemed to have realised he’d gone too far for once, and while he desperately tried to pry the chain from one ankle with the other foot, writhing uncomfortably on his bound hands, Tony went to throw water on his face.
When he came back, Loki was screaming that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant it.
“STARK!” He screamed, writhing beneath Thor, who sat straddling Loki’s pinned legs. The arms were still cuffed behind his back, and his chest bowed up uncomfortably so that he wouldn’t break his wrists. “I know you are watching me! Help me!”
“That is enough, brother! You go too far. I gave you chance upon chance to silence yourself, but now I am left with no choice but to do it for you.”
Tony couldn’t see what Thor is doing; just his hands moving, up and down, or back and forth, pulling and pushing something over Loki’s face. Loki had screamed at first, as the needle pierced his skin, once, twice, three times, until he could make no other sounds but desperate whimpers and terrified huffs of breath through his flaring nose. When Thor climbed off of Loki, looking subdued and immediately regretful, his anger having faded, there was blood on his hands and flecked across his beard. Loki’s mouth was a bleeding, beautiful mess, held closed by thick black twine and eight perfectly neat stitches. At the sight of it, of Loki broken but beautiful, eyes green and wide and angry, Tony felt the blood rush straight to his cock.
When Thor was gone, and Loki had stopped rubbing his face against his shoulder as if trying to pull the stitches out miraculously, Nick Fury appeared in his doorway. Tony had already passed out drunk. Fortunately, he spilt his tequila across his laptop’s keyboard and short-circuited the motherboard. Fury had turned up, after hearing Thor’s side of the story and the comments Thor had innocently repeated about Tony salivating (“But it meant nothing! My brother lies, it is what he does. The man of iron would never betray his Lady Potts in such a way, sir!” Thor had protested), bursting into Tony’s room, and knocking the laptop on the floor in his rush to grab at Tony’s shoulders and shake him awake.
Tony couldn’t remember much, and Tony could barely move his head without throwing up, and eventually Fury left. When Tony had sobered up a little, read: Bruce had brought him pain killers and water and a fry up, he went to inspect his laptop. The computer was fried, but Tony could fix it, because that was what he did. He fixed things and solved problems, and as he fixed the computer he thought about the puzzle that was Loki, and he tried to remember if everything he did remember contrary to what he told Nick had actually happened or if he had hallucinated some of it. All the while, he drank again, and by the time the computer was fixed, Loki had had those stitches through his lips for over twenty-four hours and Tony was just drunk enough to do something stupid and remember enough to regret it later.
XXX
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My birthday is this month :) Art for some of the scenes in the next chapter would be lovely? :P EHEHEHEE!
NEXT
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“Obloquy”
Disclaimer: The Avengers, Tony, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: [Tony/Loki] Tony spent a lot of his time under the influence of alcohol, usually resulting in blatantly awful ideas and leading to some rather unsavoury situations. Attempting to seduce the bound and gagged Norse God of Mischief had to be one of his better ideas.
Warnings: Slash. Tony/Loki. Through and post-Avengers. Missing Scene. Language. AU. Creepiness. FrostIron. Muzzle!sex… Slightly dub-con. Mentions of past rape. Implied possibility of mpreg.
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: Was having a conversation on LJ, and this came up, and oh my god… I am disturbed. But this was so fucking hot in my head; hopefully it translated well, to, well, not paper, but well! (aislingsiobhan (dot) tumblr (dot) com / post / 26084370535 / fanfic-flamingo See the second two)
Title: Obloquy (noun). Meaning: disgrace; shame; infamy; ignominy; disfavour; dishonour; humiliation; disrepute; mortification; misery. It just sounded cooler than ‘degradation’.
XXX
Words: 9,336
Chapter 1/2a
Tony should have known that things were never as easy as they appeared to be. Fighting the Chitauri was difficult, yes, but in the scheme of things, (in his sphere of things), they had only lost one man: Coulson. Loki had allowed himself to be captured, had allowed SHIELD to take him back to the Helicarrier and attempt to contain him. But now that the Chitauri were all dead, blown sky high - or higher than the sky in this case - and right about the time that Tony would have been running for the hills if he had been the one to stir this shit up, Loki sat calmly at the base of the stairs in Tony’s bar room, smiling tiredly up at them.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that drink now,” Loki said, attempting a one shouldered shrug, because he couldn’t actually move his left shoulder all that much right now.
It was too easy, too simple, Tony thought as he poured Loki the drink he had promised him earlier. He poured himself one while he was at it, and then another for himself while Loki drank his first. Tony dealt in problems, in solving them, and the harder they were to crack the more he enjoyed them. Loki was a puzzle, one of the Sunday Times mind-melting crosswords where all of the clues were rhymes without rhyme or reason and only the truly dedicated ever finished them, but Tony had figured Loki out earlier. But he couldn’t figure him out now, and that irked him.
Tony poured himself a third drink, watching curiously as Clint dragged Loki to his feet. The rest of the team ignored the way Loki hissed, his right arm moving instinctively to clutch at his left shoulder, before Natasha was there, grabbing it, pulling it behind Loki’s back and pinning it there. They handcuffed his hands behind his back, and Loki grimaced with every footstep he was forced to take, and he bit his bottom lip so that he wouldn’t cry out as Thor grabbed hold of his broken arm and dragged him to the landing helicopter.
They all managed to fit inside, but it was a tight squeeze, and Loki ended up pressed against the side of Tony Stark. He shifted, mostly from pain, unable to find a comfortable position to rest in and also because every time he brushed against the human, Tony had to stifle a gasp.
To distract himself from his own unease, Tony glanced at Hulk who was huddled up in the corner, as far away from anyone else as he could manage. The others cringed away from the other guy, except Thor who still thought of all humans as tiny and petty, and Tony whose life had been saved twice by the Big Guy and who wasn’t afraid of him for his own reasons. Loki especially cringed away, trying to sink into the seat whenever Hulk so much as twitched in his direction.
“You really worked him over, big fella, huh?” Tony chuckled, taking a swig from the nagan of whiskey he had brought along with him. Of his whole tower, the bar had survived with the least damage, but Tony planned to do a little damage of his own to it as soon as he was debriefed and released from SHIELD.
“Hulk smash,” the Hulk agreed gruffly, glancing curiously at the man of metal that grinned back at him proudly.
Loki hurt, he hurt terribly. But he had had worse. He tried not to think of the Chitauri, or of Thor pinning him down while Odin sewed his mouth shut, or of Svaðilfari for his first time, tearing him in two. Instead, he thought of vengeance and defeat and how one could be achieved through the other, without power, without an army. He only needed one other to help him, just one, and Loki thought of Tony Stark and the way the man pressed against him unwillingly, but unwilling to pull away simultaneously, and Loki could smell the desire upon him like cologne. It was strong, and heady, and it made Loki’s head spin from more than the pain or the fear or the humiliation.
So he pressed closer to Tony, his side plastered to Tony’s side, every inch touching, and Loki turned his upper body so that he could rest his head on Tony’s shoulder as he pretended to fall asleep. He didn’t smirk, though he wanted to, as one by one the others fell asleep and the Hulk turned back into Bruce, and Tony stayed awake carding his fingers through Loki’s hair.
Tony still thought it had gone too easily, even after they had arrived at SHIELD’s backup base. Loki’s hands were still cuffed behind his back, and Tony’s head was buzzing from the alcohol, but everyone else bar the pilot was still sleeping. Soldiers were running towards them, decked out in full riot gear, blacked out masks pulled down to protect their faces and guns raised before they’d even reached the helicopter. Tony, figuring it was best to get this over with as soon as possible, to get Loki locked up before he tried anything because fuck everyone knew Loki was going to try something, moved to wake Thor.
He stopped though; arm outstretched to poke Thor who slept on Loki’s other side. Tony glanced down, wary but not altogether disgusted (though that thought disgusted him, because fuck it all he was finally in a functional monogamous relationship with a woman he loved, so he shouldn’t be reacting to this), and Loki nuzzled sleepily against his chest again, moaning ‘Stark’ softly as he woke up. Blood rushed south, and Tony swallowed heavily regretting the fact that he hadn’t brought a bigger bottle with him because he suddenly wanted a drink: it would occupy his hands and his mouth and shut up his brain, because the thoughts he was having? They weren’t something he’d want to share with the rest of the Avengers.
Loki, who hadn’t been asleep at all, grinned softly into Iron Man’s chest. His elbow was by Tony’s lap, but through the metal he couldn’t feel a reaction, though the human had certainly had one.
“I want you,” Loki whispered, still pretending to be half asleep. He glanced up, eyes heavy lidded and mouth parted, panting shallowly as if he had just woken from a very imaginative dream, and Tony’s eyes almost rolled back in his head.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Tony said instead, pulling down the face plate of his helmet and shaking Loki’s shoulder. “You awake yet? Good. Thor, wake up, come on!”
Thor stirred feebly. The god grunted something and turned his face away from Tony’s prodding finger. Tony poked him harder. Unfortunately, Tony had to lean across Loki to reach Thor. Loki regretted that his hands were tied behind his back and not at his front. Instead, he raised a knee, running it lightly across Tony’s leg, forcing back the self-satisfied smirk that threatened to burst across his face as Tony shuddered under his touch.
Someone pounded on the door of the helicopter. The pilot leaned back over his seat, noticed that Tony was moving and shouted, “Open her up will you, Stark?”
His voice did what Tony’s questing hands had failed to do, and Thor shot off his seat like he had been electrocuted. His hammer was in his hand, and immediately scathing comments were dripping from Loki’s tongue like poison.
“Hold your tongue, brother, lest you lose the privilege of using it,” Thor threatened, angry and tired and sore.
“It would not be the first time you forced such brutality upon me, brother!” The word was spat like it was a curse, and Thor turned away in shame, looking like he regretted his comment, but then more vitriol followed, like water after a dam had been burst, and Thor shut Loki up the only way he knew how. Loki would have held his hand to his cheek if he could have, but he settled for turning his face away, beating down the magic inside of him that had already healed his shoulder, arm and leg, and sought to heal his bruised cheek. Leave it there, his mind said, let everyone know how noble my brother truly is, he told his magic.
Tony glanced at the bruise, wincing slightly, because Loki was tied up and beat up and it didn’t seem right to keep beating on him when he was relatively defenceless. But he’d had enough sympathy for the devil for today, Tony told himself, ignoring the way that Loki was keeping the bruised cheek facing him as Thor woke the others up.
“What did you think you were going to achieve, Rudolph?” Tony asked, hoping for another clue to put towards all of the others, one more piece of the puzzle.
Loki ignored the name that was likely another Midgardian insult. But he turned to fully face Tony again, a small smile curving his lips up, and he looked beautiful. It took Tony’s breath away for a moment, and the man had to shake himself and remind himself that this man - god, being, wanker, whatever - was a murderer and so very, very dangerous and Tony had enough dangerous vices as is without adding one more to his repertoire.
“What I wanted.”
Tony gave a soft snort. He grabbed one of Loki’s bound arms, waiting until Natasha had the other, before they started pulling him from the helicopter. “And what did you want?” Tony asked sometime later, as he led Loki towards his new cell. There was no glass this time, just feet upon feet of reinforced concrete and a nifty little spell Fury had arranged for Dr Strange to cast with little to no notice. Loki wasn’t escaping from this one, no matter who came to rescue him.
“And what was it you wanted? Glory, infamy, the money? Cause I have to tell you, supervillians don’t actually earn all that much in the comics. They do get beat up a lot though, but you’d know all about that already, right?” Tony opened the door, and pushed Loki through it.
Loki turned, that strangely appealing half smile still on pale pink lips. “The question, Stark,” the sound of his name, in that breathy whisper, made Tony’s legs shake from desire, “is what you want!” Loki surged forward, and for one second Tony thought ‘shit, I knew it had been too easy, he’s going to fucking kill me’, but then cold, chapped lips were pressed against his and Loki’s chest was bumping against his as the man stumbled without arms to help keep his balance. But Tony’s hands were on Loki’s waist, holding him up and holding him steady, and Loki pressed his mouth harder, parted his lips a little, and invited Tony’s tongue inside to play.
Tony had never been one to refuse a lady, or well, male god in this case, and kisses were kisses right? Loki found himself pressed back against the wall, beside the door, outside of the cell he should have been contained in. His hands were pinned behind his back still, and Tony’s mouth devoured his furiously.
“What do you want, Stark?” Loki whispered after Tony had pulled away from him to breathe. “I know what I want.” Vengeance, and revenge, and death, and degradation, and humiliation, and anger, and shame, and punishment, and glory, and praise, and pride, and love, and want, but he couldn’t have any of those things yet. Not yet. But for now this would do. And so he kissed Tony Stark again.
Tony kissed back, drowning in the taste of Loki in his mouth, the knowledge that he was bound and defenceless (but not really and that was the thrill, Loki was letting him do this, Loki wanted this) turned Tony on more than anything else ever had, more than anyone he had ever experienced. He almost felt guilty for cheating on Pepper, but honestly, she knew him better than he knew himself, and how often did one get the opportunity to fuck a god? The bragging rights alone were worth Pepper’s hurt, and her anger Tony’s could bribe her out of, just like he always did with her disappointment.
Loki tasted like morphine, addicting and freeing and light. Tony almost didn’t hear the voices of the soldiers who were meant to be guarding Loki for the night. They were taking it in shifts of four at a time, every five hours, and they rounded the corner just as Tony pulled back and shoved Loki away from him. Coincidence would have it that Loki fell backwards through the open doorway, sprawling across the floor with his arms pinned and his legs spread invitingly, and through the pain and humiliation and the laughter from the guards Loki noticed Tony lick his lips. Loki smirked, because he knew what Tony wanted.
Tony left after closing the door and locking it. He left Loki in the care of the guards, surprised to note that there were no cameras around.
Tony went back to SHIELD, and then to Pepper, and he started work on rebuilding his tower. All the while, the taste of Loki lingered on his lips, and burned through his veins like morphine, and once the effects wore off, once Tony had come down from the high that was his newest vice, he craved.
XXX
Tony spent a lot of his time under the influence of alcohol. Such time usually resulted in Tony having blatantly awful ideas and leading to some rather unsavoury situations. Visiting Loki a second time, kissing him a second time was one of those really bad ideas that he’d had while drunk, but like a drug Loki burned his way through Tony’s system and left Tony wanting more afterwards. Always more.
Tony had got drunk again, so drunk he couldn’t quite see straight, but he’d managed to bribe the guards watching Loki into letting him inside for a little while. He’d told them he was experimenting with magic and that Fury would fucking love him when he was done, and they’d taken his money and returned his shit-eating-grin and let him into the cell. Loki had lain, hands tied behind his back and one leg chained to the bed, fast asleep, while Tony installed his own surveillance system inside the cement box room.
It was like an obsession, a dependency. Tony’s fingers literally twitched if he didn’t get to see Loki, hear him, or kiss him at least once every two days.
It was taking weeks to sort out Loki’s punishment: Thor wanted to bring him to Asgard; Odin felt earth should decide Loki’s fate in this lifetime and Jötunheimr his fate in the next since gods lived much longer than humans did and the Midgardians would die first. Thor wanted to bring Loki to Asgard; Fury wanted him boiled in tar, maybe feathered too for spite, or dragged through the street naked behind Captain America on his motorcycle. Tony didn’t really want to know what went through Fury’s mind when he was angry, because his curses were colourful enough without the, likely traumatising, mental picture that went with them.
It was during the third week that Tony watched, knocking back tequila like it was water, as Loki finally pushed Thor too far. Thor had been Loki’s firmest supporter, his only defender but Loki had said something about ‘Jane’ and leered at Thor while licking his lips. There might have been something there about Loki escaping solely to give this Jane what she was obviously missing out on from Thor, something about her not coming looking for more whereas Loki had Stark salivating over him at every opportunity… or, you know, something to that effect. Tony wasn’t quite sure what was actually said and what he had hallucinated, because he’d had to shake his head quite a few times to clear it when he finally realised Thor was screaming and not pleading.
Tony shook his head again, rubbing angrily at his eyes as they blurred. There were two Thors in the room. And then there was one, and then there was none. Thor was gone from the room, but the door was still open. Loki was chained to the bed, but he seemed to have realised he’d gone too far for once, and while he desperately tried to pry the chain from one ankle with the other foot, writhing uncomfortably on his bound hands, Tony went to throw water on his face.
When he came back, Loki was screaming that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant it.
“STARK!” He screamed, writhing beneath Thor, who sat straddling Loki’s pinned legs. The arms were still cuffed behind his back, and his chest bowed up uncomfortably so that he wouldn’t break his wrists. “I know you are watching me! Help me!”
“That is enough, brother! You go too far. I gave you chance upon chance to silence yourself, but now I am left with no choice but to do it for you.”
Tony couldn’t see what Thor is doing; just his hands moving, up and down, or back and forth, pulling and pushing something over Loki’s face. Loki had screamed at first, as the needle pierced his skin, once, twice, three times, until he could make no other sounds but desperate whimpers and terrified huffs of breath through his flaring nose. When Thor climbed off of Loki, looking subdued and immediately regretful, his anger having faded, there was blood on his hands and flecked across his beard. Loki’s mouth was a bleeding, beautiful mess, held closed by thick black twine and eight perfectly neat stitches. At the sight of it, of Loki broken but beautiful, eyes green and wide and angry, Tony felt the blood rush straight to his cock.
When Thor was gone, and Loki had stopped rubbing his face against his shoulder as if trying to pull the stitches out miraculously, Nick Fury appeared in his doorway. Tony had already passed out drunk. Fortunately, he spilt his tequila across his laptop’s keyboard and short-circuited the motherboard. Fury had turned up, after hearing Thor’s side of the story and the comments Thor had innocently repeated about Tony salivating (“But it meant nothing! My brother lies, it is what he does. The man of iron would never betray his Lady Potts in such a way, sir!” Thor had protested), bursting into Tony’s room, and knocking the laptop on the floor in his rush to grab at Tony’s shoulders and shake him awake.
Tony couldn’t remember much, and Tony could barely move his head without throwing up, and eventually Fury left. When Tony had sobered up a little, read: Bruce had brought him pain killers and water and a fry up, he went to inspect his laptop. The computer was fried, but Tony could fix it, because that was what he did. He fixed things and solved problems, and as he fixed the computer he thought about the puzzle that was Loki, and he tried to remember if everything he did remember contrary to what he told Nick had actually happened or if he had hallucinated some of it. All the while, he drank again, and by the time the computer was fixed, Loki had had those stitches through his lips for over twenty-four hours and Tony was just drunk enough to do something stupid and remember enough to regret it later.
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My birthday is this month :) Art for some of the scenes in the next chapter would be lovely? :P EHEHEHEE!
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