Loki Month #5 - And Many And Might They Are 1 - Frostiron
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Here’s my contribution for Prompt 5 (17th-20th February 2014): Alternate Universe.
I’m using Comic!Tony’s height for this one, rather than RDJ’s.
“And Many and Mighty They Are”
Disclaimer: Avengers, Thor, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make
no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: Written for the 2014 Loki Month. Loki comes of age and Laufey throws a party to find him a mate. No one thinks he’ll attract one, being a runt but a Rime Giant comes from the North. Vicious and dangerous, his territory is protected by magical constructs of his own making; that walk and fight like soldiers but never eat, sleep or speak. He wants Loki. But Loki wants to play hard to get, because why should he hand himself over to the first Alpha to vie for his attention (even if he is the only Alpha to do so)?
Warnings: Loki Month. Slash. Frostiron. Omega!Loki. Alpha!Tony. Jötun Loki. Jötun Tony. AU. Knotting. Runt!Loki. First time. I couldn’t help myself, sorry. Teasing. Height difference. Mentions of Mpreg (but none in the fic). Intersex!Loki.
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: This is a mash-up of another (art) prompt (Jötun!Tony meets Jötun!Prince Loki (filled by omgitsmudpie, go find it)) and the Loki Prompt (AU). The title is from Rudyard Kipling’s “The Law For The Wolves”.
XXX
Words: 6,480
Chapter 1
Omegas were always smaller than the average Frost Giant, so no one thought it too odd that Loki had not grown tall. At least, until he entered his first heat and his head still only came to the chests of his younger brothers. As a runt, Loki had less of a chance of attracting a mate than any other omega, but he was the crown Prince and he was a witch, both of which were coveted upon Jötunheimr.
But still, he was a runt. The likelihood of him surviving a pregnancy was very low, unless he was lucky enough to find an Alpha who was also smaller than average (but those were few and far between and usually stayed up North where the weather was, oddly enough, warmer and wetter, and the wildlife was never in short supply). Labour had killed its share of omegas on Jötunheimr, most of them small, delicate looking Jötuns, not unlike Loki (with his thin wrists and his bird-boned arms and legs, his slim waist and sharp cheekbones), but at least they had been tall enough, large enough to successfully mate and conceive. The last runt omega Laufey had witnessed mated in heat had been little more than a bloody mess when the alpha was done with him, gasping and wheezing and bleeding from places he shouldn't. It had been merciful to kill him, Laufey had decided; far crueller to make him suffer while they failed to heal him.
This was the fate that awaited his son.
His Loki, his little Princeling. The eldest child of three, so clever, so beautiful, but so very small and there was nothing to be done about that. It would be better to keep him away from alphas altogether, to keep him alone and safe. So it went that Loki spent his first heat alone, locked in his room with his magic bound to keep him from escaping. His brothers (who were sure to be alphas but had not come of age) kept guard outside, scaring off any who attempted to sniff around the unbound omega's rooms. He spent his next heat alone too, and the one after that, and the one after that.
Loki's first heat came just after he entered puberty, and until he came of age, Laufey managed to keep him away from any alpha that might possibly have shown interest. It was the equivalent to a life time for humans, but not that many years for a Jötun, who were near immortal after all, and Loki barely had time to notice that he was lonely.
As a Prince of Jötunheimr, and moreover as the heir to the crown, when Loki came of age he was required to have a ball. Prospective mates were supposed to attend, alphas travelled to win the hand of their princesses or omega princes, and pretty she-Jötuns or omega males came whenever an alpha prince came of age. They usually timed the event so that no one would end up in heat, because it was hard to guarantee the safety of your guests when said guests were driven mad with the desire to rut like wild animals.
Laufey didn't want to have a ball. But he was Laufey-King, and not introducing his son to society was the equivalent of declaring him unworthy of his name and his future crown. So Laufey invited the Rime Giants of the south and the Ice Giants of the north. The Stone Giants came from the west, and the east sent a convoy of Storm Giants, and each of them came to the centre of Jötunheimr, to where the Frost Giants lived. In the very middle of their world, lived the royal family, and each waited impatiently as their guests arrived, greeting the others and shaking hands, clasping shoulders and butting foreheads against those who were old friends.
Loki stood quietly, completely hidden by the bulks of his two younger brothers. Helblindi was the middle son, quiet and studious but a warrior too, unlike Loki who spent all of his time at court or reading in the library. He was taller than Loki, much taller; Loki’s head came only to the younger giant’s chest, and the youngest son, Býleistr was almost as tall again. He was the loudest of the group, wilder, and vicious in a fight. Býleistr was the one Loki ran to when he wanted to avoid the attentions of an alpha (not that there were many looking to claim him-none, actually. But that didn’t mean that some weren’t interested in fucking the crown prince when he wasn’t in heat, with no obligations and no chance of him getting pregnant.) Loki stayed behind them, uninterested in those who had come to stare at him, gasping in horror and sighing in sympathy as they - alphas all - suddenly decided they didn’t want to marry into the royal family after all.
But Laufey had been expecting that. No one wanted to be stuck with what they considered to be a burden, though Loki was perfectly capable of hunting for himself thanks very much; he wouldn't survive a labour though, and what was the point of going into heat if you still couldn't have children? But just because he had been expecting it, didn't mean it offended Laufey any less, nor did it mean that Loki wasn't as equally hurt by their snubs as he would have been had his father not warned him it would happen.
He didn't want an alpha. He didn't need one, but despite all of that, Loki still wanted one.
Loki had magic and was one of a very few on Jötunheimr who did. He was small and quiet and liked to read, and not many others shared that passion. His brothers, the people who were obligated to play with him even after the other children had stopped for fear of crushing him, were so much younger than him and so much bigger simultaneously and he had no one else to turn to for comfort. Loki was lonely, but mating with an alpha who would be bigger, older or younger, who was a warrior and couldn't do magic and didn't like to read wouldn't do anything but make him feel lonelier still. But he could hope!
Not that there was much to hope for. Legions of tall, bulky Jötun warriors brushed passed him, none caring enough to even ask where the Prince was (still hidden by his siblings), for none actually came for him. They came for the party, for the chance to rub elbows with royalty; to observe the younger princes, to try and see whether an omega child should be sent in ten years’ time for the next in line, or perhaps if they might too be omega and an alpha son could end up fucking his way into the family tree.
There was only one who bothered to ask after Loki, and that was an uncle of his. He stopped, his four sons behind him, beside a small group of guards who had obviously travelled with them. He didn't ask to speak to Loki, and shook his head when Laufey waved for his eldest to come forward. But he asked,"how is he?" and then added, "such a shame," so Loki wasn't too inclined to show himself anyway. He didn't need anyone's pity, and he didn't need any of those four brutish cousins of his as his alpha either.
He didn't need any of them. And it was stupid to hope that one of them might want him. Until Loki saw him. Well, them would be more correct to say. For they weren't Jötuns, not of any breed, and they weren't any other species that Loki could identify (and he had travelled through many of the realms, absconding from the palace along secret paths that opened up before his magic and led him on many wild adventures). They were made from iron, he realised; iron and ice climbing across their forms like armour. There were two of them, a small number for a contingent of guards, but the machines were taller than the tallest alpha Loki had yet seen and a little bit broader, their hands sparked like an a hammer striking an anvil every time the metal fingers flexed and there was a circle of glowing white light in the very centre of their chests: they were terrifying, and Loki trembled as he leaned around Býleistr’s arm to see them. He did not envy the fool who would dare attack their creator on the roads.
"They call him the Invincible Iron Man," Helblindi whispered, turning his face enough so the Jotun that followed the machines couldn't read his lips. "He has armies of them, magical monsters made from metal, that shoot fire from their hands and chests, and can fly as easily as you when you conjure yourself wings."
Loki's mouth had dropped open, his eyes were wide. Despite all that he had whispered to himself that morning, in spite of how much he had denied caring whether or not he found a mate (insisted he didn't want one!), he couldn't stop the blush that crept across his cheeks. Nor could he stop himself from stepping out from behind his brothers as the foreign Jötun taunted him.
“Scared, little omega?” Iron Man teased. There was a cocky smile on his face, and his red eyes were bright with amusement rather than scorn. His hands were on his hips, resting just above the belt that held his loin cloth up (and it was a loin cloth, amusingly enough, just two bits of scrap material held together by string and a belt, but he looked good in it), his hip cocked slightly as he gazed down at the prince.
It was the bright smile the 'Iron Man' offered him, the one that stretched his mouth and widened his cheeks handsomely, that gave Loki the courage to tease back. "Of you?" He asked, laughing, red eyes wide. "I think not!"
The other reached out for Loki's hand; not grabbing it, or curling his fingers impatiently, but rather he just held his hand out in invitation, fingers straight and together and palm facing up. Loki reached out for it, allowed his fingers to touch against the edges of his suitor's own and gasped as they curled around his hand, grip tight and sure as the hand jerked his forward until it was close enough for Iron Man to kiss. His lips were cold but soft as they fluttered against the back of Loki's shaking hand, and Loki felt the heat in his cheeks, knew they were flushed dark pink.
"Anthony Starkson," the visitor said, his lips moving against Loki's skin, hand still holding his own, "well met my Prince." He let go straight after, turning to Laufey before Loki could even think of something to respond with. "My King," Anthony continued, adding a small nod of his head out of respect. Loki stood to one side, flustered and curious as the stranger spoke with his father, as if they were friends rather than king and subject, as if they already knew each other.
Helblindi used Loki's distraction to lead him away from the other two Jötuns. He and his younger brother brought the crown prince back to the palace, whispering all the way.
"Do they know each other?" Loki asked eventually.
"Of course! If you hadn’t spent so much of your time hiding in the library you'd have seen him before." Helblindi chided. "That's Iron Man. He sent his forged warriors to drive back Asgard's forces the last time their unruly Prince tried to invade."
Býleistr snorted, face ugly as he scowled at the mention of Thor. "Should have been there, brother. The Asgardian didn't know which way was up once Stark was finished with him."
"But why so interested, brother?" Helblindi added, a smirk practically covering his lower face. His teeth were bared, he smiled so widely, and his eyes had crinkled up. He knew well why Loki was interested, but the blush had covered the eldest's face again, and teasing him was too much fun to pass up (considering the opportunity arose so seldom).
“It’s a good thing he likes to keep to himself. He’d give father awful trouble if he ever decided he wanted to be King. The people love him; they call him a hero in the North, East and West. Most of the people here are in awe of him too.” Býleistr shrugged at the wide-eyed glance Loki threw him. “He’s always been kind and respectful to us though, never caused real trouble, even when he is driving the council insane with his inappropriate antics and traitorous comments. Stark’s one of them sarcastic sorts, like yourself brother.” The youngest Jötun in the group winked then, enjoying the way Loki scowled immediately after his mouth turned up in a small, pleased smile at the comparison.
“You like him,” Helblindi teased, nudging his brother carefully. Often times, he forgot his own strength and sent the omega flying across the room or tumbling to the ground, but today he was careful. With the way Stark had stared at them as they led Loki away, it was best to be safe, to not accidentally hurt his brother: no one wanted an angry alpha as an enemy, especially not the Invincible Iron Man.
“Well,” Loki started, hesitant and soft. “He had the manners to speak to me instead of asking Father about me like I wasn’t worth his time. He built those, those things! He must be terribly clever?”
“He’s a witch too, you know?” Helblindi offered, eager to help Loki find a mate that suited him (probably the only mate that ever would, so it was best that Loki leapt first without thinking than to second guess it all and let the opportunity slip by him). “And handsome.”
“He is,” Loki agreed to the second comment, because, no, he hadn’t known about the first. But the thought of having someone to share his magic with made him giddy and he grinned widely in the direction of the palace doors, watching and waiting as others began to stream inside. “He has a beautiful smile, and I… it makes me feel good when he smiles at me.”
Anthony smiled at him again when Laufey entered the palace with the visitor by his side. It was wide and bright, and Loki felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of it. Starkson was handsome, classically so, with a straight nose and beautiful red eyes and a full mouth just made for kissing (or sucking cock, Loki’s mind supplied traitorously, making his cheeks blush again), and a slightly squared, strong jaw. There were lines across his forehead and whorls across his cheeks, delicate and beautiful, like Loki’s own markings though they meant different things, and there was one particular one across his nose beginning under his right eye and ending under his left like someone had tried, badly, to gouge his eyes out once. In his chest there was a round device, like the objects that powered his iron warriors, and it glowed faintly blue like the Casket of Ancient Winters did, and Loki could feel the hum of magic emanating from it once he concentrated.
“Old war wound,” Býleistr supplied helpfully. “Stark won.”
He was strong then, a warrior like most other Jötuns, but smart enough to use his magic and his metal creations, and determined enough to win. He paid Loki the time of day, smiling across the atrium at him again and smugly winking at the sight of Loki’s flustered wave back.
And best of all, Anthony Starkson was short!
XXX
He’d heard all of the stories of course, the gossip and the rumours, and the “Poor Laufey-King, to have a runt for an heir” conversations that went on any time a crowd gathered together anywhere. But Anthony had never actually realised how small the omega truly was, not until he had seen him with his own eyes. Tony himself was small for a Giant, inheriting it from his mother’s side of the family who was half-Ice Giant (always a little smaller than average anyway) and half-other (though no one had ever told Tony what). But he was still almost two heads taller than Loki. Tony’s forehead was level with the tip of Laufey’s nose, which wasn’t that much of a height difference in all honesty, but he was still considered short. Loki was almost two heads shorter; it was no wonder people used the word ‘runt’ to describe him, instead of saying ‘short’, or ‘small’ as omegas were wont to be.
It had been bad enough that certain family members (uncles, more specifically his father’s best friend) had tried to overthrow him, to kill him and steal his birth right because Tony wasn’t a ‘real’ Jötun, because Tony was a disappointment. Well, fuck him, and fuck anyone else who would dare. Tony had killed him, and killed the ones who had tried to kill him, and now he ruled the North with an iron (literally) fist. He offered aid to the King when asked, and he would offer his hand to the Prince because the kid (who was actually older than Tony) was beautiful and clever and almost painfully shy from what Tony had seen of him before, sneaking between the library and the kitchens, eyes averted so he wouldn’t have to speak with anyone, wouldn’t have to listen to them deride him. Loki probably got a lot of that growing up, or rather after he had stopped growing up but kept aging.
It wasn’t pity, because Tony Starkson didn’t do pity. Life was shit or it was what you make it and he had no time for people who sat around complaining while everything fell to bits around them. So, no, no pity. But there was sympathy, because Tony had been there; had never been enough, but at least Loki’s parents loved him, he was their runt, whereas Tony had been his father’s failure. A creation, one that had failed, but something he had made, not loved, not a son.
But Tony could understand how hard it must have been, growing up different, growing up alone. The eldest child who was too small to really be the big brother, too weak to protect the others. Magic helped, of course, but even then he must have been alone. Who had Loki learnt it from, Tony wondered, because neither of his parents practiced? Tony had been taught by a Jötun he had met during the failed assassination attempt: he had known about his magic before, but had never bothered to learn to use it, more concerned with throwing lavish parties and seducing as many omegas and women as he could, revelling in the life of the rich, popular Lord of the North after his parents’ deaths. Yinsen had taught him, and Tony had spent the interim years training himself to be faster with his spells, stronger with his sword, and to guard his trust more closely. But Loki must have taught himself, must still be teaching himself, and Tony wanted to be the one to show him more, and better, and wilder.
Apparently, Loki wanted something different. Or, someone different. When Tony asked for his hand, offered him one of his many iron men, offered to custom-make him one of his own out of molten gold and green paint and Loki's own magic so that it's chest would glow green instead of blue, Loki said no.
Tony didn't usually get told no, and when it actually happened he stopped and stared, blinked twice, while all around them Jötuns began whispering and chuckling, but not at Tony. Some of the women tsk-ed at Loki's retreating back, shaking their heads at the foolishness of an omega turning down an alpha that each of them wanted. Most of the other alphas laughed outright, lips curling cruelly as they muttered to one another (Loki's shoulders tensing as he walked, pretending he couldn't hear them) about how no one else would want him, how he should have just accepted and made do, shame he was going to end up alone and unmated, and with his heat almost due again, pity that. Loki's family sighed, Laufey frowning and Helblindi rolling his eyes at the stubbornness of his elder brother. Býleistr glanced at him, likely trying to guess whether Tony would renew his offer or give up on Loki for good. It was the first, for a moment anyway, and then Loki got to the threshold of the atrium and glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes were half-closed, lashes purposely fluttering as Loki's gaze raked up and down Tony's half naked body twice. Then he licked his lips.
On Laufey's other side, Fárbauti giggled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced between his alpha-husband and the alpha her son sought to seduce.
"This is his first attempt," Fárbauti muttered conspiratorially. "Go easy on him."
Anthony's lips curved up. He met Loki's gaze, and winked back.
Tony snorted softly, wondering at the audacity of the omega who had been blatantly surprised at the attention from any alpha, let alone a famous, rich one who was in good standing with the King; to risk playing hard to get when it could end with him being overlooked in favour of an easier target (uh, mate) was ballsy. Tony had to give Loki points for that and for doing it in front of an audience too, made up of the people who had decided to reject him already. It was one more reason to want to keep the kid around.
Affirmed bachelor, Anthony Starkson, already thinking about his future life with an omega he hadn't even claimed yet. Who would have thought.
XXX
Loki knew he couldn't do better, in fact, Loki didn't want to do better. He would have picked Stark over any of the other alphas present even if they had made him an offer. But just because Tony was the first and only alpha to want him, didn't mean that Loki had to pick him straight away. In fact, it went against all of his instincts to simply accept. The omega in him needed to make sure the alpha was serious in his pursuit; he didn't want to end up pregnant and alone, shamed and abandoned because he was too quick to fall into bed. He needed to know the alpha could protect him and their future children, but bringing only two of his metal warriors all the way from the far North (when others had come from the next town over with a company of twenty Jötuns) appeased that instinct. Tony could provide for them, and Loki's parents already knew him and liked him, so his brothers would as well, Loki was sure.
But what really made Loki want to stop playing around and accept was the fact that Tony let him in the first place. The alpha never complained once in the three weeks since Loki had first refused him. Loki continued to refuse him, to scoff at any gifts Tony had offered him or offered to buy for him afterwards, offered to make him, or teach him (though he still demand those lessons on conjuring magical fire), and yet Tony kept offering. It was flattering and wonderful and Loki allowed himself to smirk, chest puffed out with pride as each of the other alphas and their parties left the palace for their own cities and homes... but Anthony stayed.
Loki's brothers had long since stopped trying to keep Stark away from him (at first accepting Loki's rejection of the suit, but since having realized that Loki was simply playing hard to get). The game was getting a little long though, and it was his bearer's insistence that Loki accept before he finally pushed the alpha too far. Loki listened and Loki agreed, but Loki waited one more day anyway.
The next day, Loki went into heat.
Býleistr usually stood outside of his door. He was large enough to dissuade others from trying to get into the room, drawn by the scent of an omega in heat despite knowing who it was and knowing they did not want him, but young enough not to be bothered by the scent of Loki himself. Today though, Býleistr did not wait outside: he walked Loki through the halls of their father's palace instead, glaring and snarling at anyone who so much as sniffed curiously in Loki's direction.
The heir’s hands shook, fingers clenching around the fabric that covered his legs, sticking to him, wet with sweat. Loki jumped when he felt a hand take his, squeezing until his own stopped trembling.
"Nervous?" Býleistr asked, trying to sound calm when his own heart was pounding in his chest. This was a big deal, being Loki's first time ever, and who's to say their bearer hadn't been right two days ago when he told Loki to go yesterday and accept Stark's offer. What if it was too late?
Loki nodded slowly, thinking all of the same thoughts as his brother, but biting his bottom lip to keep them from tumbling out between his trembling lips.
"It will be ok," Býleistr added. He quickly pulled his hand away from Loki's as they came into sight of Tony's bedroom door. It was thick and heavy and carved from solid ice, as was most of the palace, but unlike the other doors in the corridor, Tony's was wide open.
The visitor stood framed in the doorway, legs spread and bent, but his toes were curled into the ground, to keep himself from springing forward and grabbing onto the omega. His hands created fissures in the ice where he touched them, fingers white from the force of his grip; he wanted to drag Loki into the room and away from the other male, wanted to drag Loki towards him and never let go, but he didn't want to hurt the omega. And the omega had said no.
But then Loki was against his chest, pressing against him so suddenly that Tony let out a squeak of surprise and even Býleistr looked confused by the sudden movement. Magic, the youngest brother realized as he started to back off down the corridor, Loki had used magic to teleport closer to his mate. Loki clung to him with both arms, one leg rising up to try and wrap around the larger male’s waist, and Tony took the hint, his own hands coming down to grab Loki’s arse and lift him. Tony carried Loki back into his room, kicking the door closed behind them as Loki’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist and the witch ground their crotches together as best he could.
“Stop,” Tony ordered, his voice deep and rumbling. With a moan Loki went stiff and still. He whimpered, burying his face against Tony’s throat and nuzzled. “Patience,” the alpha added, one of his hands moving up to rub soothingly down Loki’s back. “You are in heat,” he pointed out unnecessarily, and in response Loki only moaned again, lips moving restlessly against the flesh of Tony’s throat, tongue licking the salt from his skin and teeth leaving their marks.
Loki couldn’t remember what he had planned to do. There was something about seducing, that much he was certain of, but the rest of his plan was forgotten as Tony threw him down onto the bed, loin cloth ripped off and thrown to the corner of the room before the alpha was crawling up along him, lying down over him and pinning him in place. Loki’s own clothing met a swift end, and there was something he was supposed to do, something his bearer had suggested he do. Strip. He was supposed to strip for his mate, wiggle his hips a little and tease him; make him want me, Loki remembered. But it seemed unnecessary now, with the alpha’s hard length rubbing against Loki’s thigh as Tony leant down to kiss him, mouth hard against his unresisting lips, bruising him with their desire to taste and take and claim.
Loki spread his legs, too far gone to be embarrassed by the rush of wetness that escaped from between them once he had done so. That always happened when he went into heat: his body was lubricating itself, making sure he was ready to be claimed, making sure that he wouldn’t be hurt too badly if the alpha was too far gone to prepare him. But it had never happened with someone else in the room before, and Loki felt his cheeks burn with shame, even as his legs stayed splayed, when Tony chuckled lightly.
“Needy,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to Loki’s cheeks, one after the other until the Prince was tilting his chin up begging silently for a real kiss. “I like you like this. But I liked you as you were as well,” Tony admitted, a half-smile on his mouth when he pulled back enough that Loki could see all of his face at once. “You are perfect.”
“I am yours,” Loki corrected. He arched his hips up, wanting and needing the alpha to claim him. He had read about this, and his bearer had unfortunately tried to explain this to him after his first heat, and he knew how it was supposed to go. Perhaps first times should be slow and careful and loving, but Loki was in heat and omegas in heat wanted two things: their mate’s cock and their mate’s seed. Loki wanted both now, and Tony was being far too slow about giving them to him. “Now fuck me!” He demanded, as he reached down one hand to curl his fingers around the alpha’s cock, stroking twice firmly before guiding it to his entrance.
Tony watched him, his head tilted to the side so that he could better see as Loki used one hand to prod at the slit that opened up along his perineum, two fingers easily slipping inside of him before he pulled them away and replaced them with Tony’s cock. The unfamiliar feeling of something pressing against his entrance stripped Loki of his previous cockiness, and he tensed abruptly, fingers retreating to clutch at the furs spread beneath him instead, face turned away in embarrassment. There was no fear: his heat didn’t allow for second guessing the action, but rather the response he might receive. He did not wish to make a fool of himself, nor to displease his mate so much so that the alpha might decide to go elsewhere for his future pleasure. Loki did not want to disappoint, and since he had never lain with anyone before, he was sure that he would. But thoughts of that too slipped from his mind as Tony thrust his hips forward lightly, the blunt head of his cock nudging once more at the slippery folds between Loki’s legs.
Tony pressed easily inside of the omega; Loki’s legs instinctively parting further and then curling up around Tony’s waist to keep him close. Loki’s arms were around his neck, the fingers of one hand twisted into the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck and the other reaching over to squeeze painfully tight around his shoulder blade, nails digging into the hollow there. His breath was harsh and hot against Tony’s jaw, as the taller Jötun rocked above him; shallow thrusts at first until Loki got used to the strangeness of being full up and stretched out. Then, eventually, faster and harder, and Loki wailed beneath him, mouth hanging open when he wasn’t crying out, desperately trying to suck in air as each of Tony’s thrusts forced his breath back out of his lungs.
There was a growling noise somewhere above him, and for a moment the omega feared that someone had gotten inside the room (wasn’t Býleistr supposed to be keeping guard? Hadn’t he left them though?) But no, it was Tony who was growling. His teeth were bared and his pupils had dilated so much that Loki couldn’t tell that his eyes had ever been any colour other than black, but he didn’t miss the bright red that used to be there, not when Tony was watching him with such primal hunger, with need. Loki swallowed heavily, throwing his head back instinctively as the alpha’s lip curled back even further, revealing his teeth more fully. Loki knew what Tony wanted, just as he knew what he himself needed: he arched his throat again, turning his face away from his mate and tilting his head so that Tony could lean down to nuzzle the skin more easily. He licked twice, and nipped lightly over Loki’s pulse point (which jumped wildly under Tony’s touch), and then he bit down hard, breaking through skin as easily as a knife through soft butter and Loki screamed.
Tony continued to rock his hips, wild and brutal, and he should have been more careful because Loki was smaller than him, weaker than him, but his nails were sharp and demanding and his ankles pushed painfully against the curve of Tony’s spine and his mouth was begging unabashedly for more. And when he screamed, he pulled Tony closer, clinging frantically to him as his body trembled, and his muscles clenched around Tony’s cock, cunt wet and demanding as it milked his seed from him. Tony kept his face where it was, licking at the blood that beaded to the surface, lapping leisurely like a cat as his hips continued their movement, forcing his cock in and out of the channel that had tightened considerably after Loki’s orgasm.
“Please,” the omega whispered, shifting his legs higher on Tony’s waist, climbing up his body to give him more space with which to move within him. “Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, too far gone from his pleasure and release, body limp and sleepy but limbs still clinging desperately because he needed something and he wasn’t letting go until Tony gave it to him. What, he wasn’t sure, but the alpha seemed to know because he sped up his thrusts, hands moving to grasp Loki’s arse, one cheek in the palm of each hand and he lifted the omega up so that Tony could sit back on his knees with the omega pulled awkwardly into his lap as Tony fucked him.
When Tony came, the sudden rush of heat his seed stirred in Loki’s body was followed immediately by an unexpected pressure just within his entrance. It was a stretch, like the first press of Tony’s cock, and a burn that was unfamiliar and terrifying and Loki cried out, whimpering pathetically, as something grew within him. He fell still and silent though, instincts appeased as the knot became fully formed, lodged inside of his cunt.
“What?” He mumbled. Loki realised he knew the answer to that question, but the word had slipped out regardless. His bearer had talked to him about this, about mating with an alpha in heat and how it would be different to Loki taking a lover when he wasn’t in heat. In heat, instinct would drive him to mate, to breed, and the alpha’s instinct would mirror his own; his cock would grow to fill him, and then grow again to keep them locked together until the alpha’s seed had enough time to complete its function. Whether he became pregnant was a matter of luck and the will of their gods, but biology would do all it could to help them along.
“Mine,” the alpha snarled, mouth bloody as he lifted his face away from Loki’s neck.
The wound had healed already. All that remained was a faint marking, like the whorls that already covered Loki’s skin, in a semi-circle the width of Tony’s mouth, little white dots along the line where his teeth had once been. It was Loki’s mark, like a wedding ring, that said he was claimed and owned and wanted; not just fucked and then abandoned, like he’d always feared he would be. And he was knotted too, legs still curled around Tony’s waist, but back bent awkwardly. Tony turned them, noticing Loki’s wince, until he was lying flat on his back with Loki seated in his lap, a leg splayed on either side of his mate. He lay forward, head pillowed on Tony’s chest and spine curved and groins together, content to lie there and bask in each other’s presence until Tony’s knot receeded.
Loki trailed on finger over his alpha’s nipple, flicking the bud lightly as he considered what he should say. Tony had attracted his interest, and his respect, because he had allowed Loki the illusion of choice, allowed him to pretend that he could reject this alpha and still have hope of finding another. Tony had let Loki play his games, and had responded in turn, and now that they were mated (married without the ceremony, in all honesty) Loki wondered if Tony still wanted to play.
“No,” he whispered at last, glancing up cautiously at his dozing alpha. Tony’s eyes were closed and his mouth still bloody, but he squinted open one eye, which had gone back to its usual red, to peer curiously at the omega. “You are mine, peasant.”
Tony’s lips twitched, and though he tried to appear stern Loki could see the amusement written plain as day in the lines around his mouth and eyes. “Is that so?” Loki only nodded, his own mouth twisting into a cocky smirk as Tony appeared set to continue playing. “Well if I am yours, you must have some use for me? Then tell me, omega, how best shall I please my Prince?”
Loki laughed, light and soft, and Tony smiled widely at the sound of it. His hands were gentle on Loki’s waist, thumbs rubbing circles along his hip bones.
“You could start by kissing me, alpha!” The Prince demanded. He tilted his chin forward, but did not move any further. Tony had to sit up, hands holding Loki against his chest to keep him from tumbling backwards at the sudden motion. He pulled the omega as close as he could, one hand now on Loki’s cheek to hold his face still and the other slipping down to check on his knot: if he could press a finger inside he would fuck Loki again, before his next cycle came upon them, and if not then he was happy enough to finger his arse, to play with his prostate as Loki writhed and groaned in his lap, panting and moaning and begging for more. But first, that kiss.
“Ah,” Tony protested, even as he leant forward to brush their lips playfully together, “but that would be my pleasure.”
The End
This one was the one I was looking forward to the most, but it actually turned out to be the hardest thing I’ve had to write this year so far. Oh, wow, that was horrible. No more Jötun!Tony stories ever, I’m sorry. Didn’t help that I got a cold in the middle of it and felt like shit while trying to finish it. Please enjoy, regardless of my issues!
Here’s my contribution for Prompt 5 (17th-20th February 2014): Alternate Universe.
I’m using Comic!Tony’s height for this one, rather than RDJ’s.
“And Many and Mighty They Are”
Disclaimer: Avengers, Thor, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make
no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: Written for the 2014 Loki Month. Loki comes of age and Laufey throws a party to find him a mate. No one thinks he’ll attract one, being a runt but a Rime Giant comes from the North. Vicious and dangerous, his territory is protected by magical constructs of his own making; that walk and fight like soldiers but never eat, sleep or speak. He wants Loki. But Loki wants to play hard to get, because why should he hand himself over to the first Alpha to vie for his attention (even if he is the only Alpha to do so)?
Warnings: Loki Month. Slash. Frostiron. Omega!Loki. Alpha!Tony. Jötun Loki. Jötun Tony. AU. Knotting. Runt!Loki. First time. I couldn’t help myself, sorry. Teasing. Height difference. Mentions of Mpreg (but none in the fic). Intersex!Loki.
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: This is a mash-up of another (art) prompt (Jötun!Tony meets Jötun!Prince Loki (filled by omgitsmudpie, go find it)) and the Loki Prompt (AU). The title is from Rudyard Kipling’s “The Law For The Wolves”.
XXX
Words: 6,480
Chapter 1
Omegas were always smaller than the average Frost Giant, so no one thought it too odd that Loki had not grown tall. At least, until he entered his first heat and his head still only came to the chests of his younger brothers. As a runt, Loki had less of a chance of attracting a mate than any other omega, but he was the crown Prince and he was a witch, both of which were coveted upon Jötunheimr.
But still, he was a runt. The likelihood of him surviving a pregnancy was very low, unless he was lucky enough to find an Alpha who was also smaller than average (but those were few and far between and usually stayed up North where the weather was, oddly enough, warmer and wetter, and the wildlife was never in short supply). Labour had killed its share of omegas on Jötunheimr, most of them small, delicate looking Jötuns, not unlike Loki (with his thin wrists and his bird-boned arms and legs, his slim waist and sharp cheekbones), but at least they had been tall enough, large enough to successfully mate and conceive. The last runt omega Laufey had witnessed mated in heat had been little more than a bloody mess when the alpha was done with him, gasping and wheezing and bleeding from places he shouldn't. It had been merciful to kill him, Laufey had decided; far crueller to make him suffer while they failed to heal him.
This was the fate that awaited his son.
His Loki, his little Princeling. The eldest child of three, so clever, so beautiful, but so very small and there was nothing to be done about that. It would be better to keep him away from alphas altogether, to keep him alone and safe. So it went that Loki spent his first heat alone, locked in his room with his magic bound to keep him from escaping. His brothers (who were sure to be alphas but had not come of age) kept guard outside, scaring off any who attempted to sniff around the unbound omega's rooms. He spent his next heat alone too, and the one after that, and the one after that.
Loki's first heat came just after he entered puberty, and until he came of age, Laufey managed to keep him away from any alpha that might possibly have shown interest. It was the equivalent to a life time for humans, but not that many years for a Jötun, who were near immortal after all, and Loki barely had time to notice that he was lonely.
As a Prince of Jötunheimr, and moreover as the heir to the crown, when Loki came of age he was required to have a ball. Prospective mates were supposed to attend, alphas travelled to win the hand of their princesses or omega princes, and pretty she-Jötuns or omega males came whenever an alpha prince came of age. They usually timed the event so that no one would end up in heat, because it was hard to guarantee the safety of your guests when said guests were driven mad with the desire to rut like wild animals.
Laufey didn't want to have a ball. But he was Laufey-King, and not introducing his son to society was the equivalent of declaring him unworthy of his name and his future crown. So Laufey invited the Rime Giants of the south and the Ice Giants of the north. The Stone Giants came from the west, and the east sent a convoy of Storm Giants, and each of them came to the centre of Jötunheimr, to where the Frost Giants lived. In the very middle of their world, lived the royal family, and each waited impatiently as their guests arrived, greeting the others and shaking hands, clasping shoulders and butting foreheads against those who were old friends.
Loki stood quietly, completely hidden by the bulks of his two younger brothers. Helblindi was the middle son, quiet and studious but a warrior too, unlike Loki who spent all of his time at court or reading in the library. He was taller than Loki, much taller; Loki’s head came only to the younger giant’s chest, and the youngest son, Býleistr was almost as tall again. He was the loudest of the group, wilder, and vicious in a fight. Býleistr was the one Loki ran to when he wanted to avoid the attentions of an alpha (not that there were many looking to claim him-none, actually. But that didn’t mean that some weren’t interested in fucking the crown prince when he wasn’t in heat, with no obligations and no chance of him getting pregnant.) Loki stayed behind them, uninterested in those who had come to stare at him, gasping in horror and sighing in sympathy as they - alphas all - suddenly decided they didn’t want to marry into the royal family after all.
But Laufey had been expecting that. No one wanted to be stuck with what they considered to be a burden, though Loki was perfectly capable of hunting for himself thanks very much; he wouldn't survive a labour though, and what was the point of going into heat if you still couldn't have children? But just because he had been expecting it, didn't mean it offended Laufey any less, nor did it mean that Loki wasn't as equally hurt by their snubs as he would have been had his father not warned him it would happen.
He didn't want an alpha. He didn't need one, but despite all of that, Loki still wanted one.
Loki had magic and was one of a very few on Jötunheimr who did. He was small and quiet and liked to read, and not many others shared that passion. His brothers, the people who were obligated to play with him even after the other children had stopped for fear of crushing him, were so much younger than him and so much bigger simultaneously and he had no one else to turn to for comfort. Loki was lonely, but mating with an alpha who would be bigger, older or younger, who was a warrior and couldn't do magic and didn't like to read wouldn't do anything but make him feel lonelier still. But he could hope!
Not that there was much to hope for. Legions of tall, bulky Jötun warriors brushed passed him, none caring enough to even ask where the Prince was (still hidden by his siblings), for none actually came for him. They came for the party, for the chance to rub elbows with royalty; to observe the younger princes, to try and see whether an omega child should be sent in ten years’ time for the next in line, or perhaps if they might too be omega and an alpha son could end up fucking his way into the family tree.
There was only one who bothered to ask after Loki, and that was an uncle of his. He stopped, his four sons behind him, beside a small group of guards who had obviously travelled with them. He didn't ask to speak to Loki, and shook his head when Laufey waved for his eldest to come forward. But he asked,"how is he?" and then added, "such a shame," so Loki wasn't too inclined to show himself anyway. He didn't need anyone's pity, and he didn't need any of those four brutish cousins of his as his alpha either.
He didn't need any of them. And it was stupid to hope that one of them might want him. Until Loki saw him. Well, them would be more correct to say. For they weren't Jötuns, not of any breed, and they weren't any other species that Loki could identify (and he had travelled through many of the realms, absconding from the palace along secret paths that opened up before his magic and led him on many wild adventures). They were made from iron, he realised; iron and ice climbing across their forms like armour. There were two of them, a small number for a contingent of guards, but the machines were taller than the tallest alpha Loki had yet seen and a little bit broader, their hands sparked like an a hammer striking an anvil every time the metal fingers flexed and there was a circle of glowing white light in the very centre of their chests: they were terrifying, and Loki trembled as he leaned around Býleistr’s arm to see them. He did not envy the fool who would dare attack their creator on the roads.
"They call him the Invincible Iron Man," Helblindi whispered, turning his face enough so the Jotun that followed the machines couldn't read his lips. "He has armies of them, magical monsters made from metal, that shoot fire from their hands and chests, and can fly as easily as you when you conjure yourself wings."
Loki's mouth had dropped open, his eyes were wide. Despite all that he had whispered to himself that morning, in spite of how much he had denied caring whether or not he found a mate (insisted he didn't want one!), he couldn't stop the blush that crept across his cheeks. Nor could he stop himself from stepping out from behind his brothers as the foreign Jötun taunted him.
“Scared, little omega?” Iron Man teased. There was a cocky smile on his face, and his red eyes were bright with amusement rather than scorn. His hands were on his hips, resting just above the belt that held his loin cloth up (and it was a loin cloth, amusingly enough, just two bits of scrap material held together by string and a belt, but he looked good in it), his hip cocked slightly as he gazed down at the prince.
It was the bright smile the 'Iron Man' offered him, the one that stretched his mouth and widened his cheeks handsomely, that gave Loki the courage to tease back. "Of you?" He asked, laughing, red eyes wide. "I think not!"
The other reached out for Loki's hand; not grabbing it, or curling his fingers impatiently, but rather he just held his hand out in invitation, fingers straight and together and palm facing up. Loki reached out for it, allowed his fingers to touch against the edges of his suitor's own and gasped as they curled around his hand, grip tight and sure as the hand jerked his forward until it was close enough for Iron Man to kiss. His lips were cold but soft as they fluttered against the back of Loki's shaking hand, and Loki felt the heat in his cheeks, knew they were flushed dark pink.
"Anthony Starkson," the visitor said, his lips moving against Loki's skin, hand still holding his own, "well met my Prince." He let go straight after, turning to Laufey before Loki could even think of something to respond with. "My King," Anthony continued, adding a small nod of his head out of respect. Loki stood to one side, flustered and curious as the stranger spoke with his father, as if they were friends rather than king and subject, as if they already knew each other.
Helblindi used Loki's distraction to lead him away from the other two Jötuns. He and his younger brother brought the crown prince back to the palace, whispering all the way.
"Do they know each other?" Loki asked eventually.
"Of course! If you hadn’t spent so much of your time hiding in the library you'd have seen him before." Helblindi chided. "That's Iron Man. He sent his forged warriors to drive back Asgard's forces the last time their unruly Prince tried to invade."
Býleistr snorted, face ugly as he scowled at the mention of Thor. "Should have been there, brother. The Asgardian didn't know which way was up once Stark was finished with him."
"But why so interested, brother?" Helblindi added, a smirk practically covering his lower face. His teeth were bared, he smiled so widely, and his eyes had crinkled up. He knew well why Loki was interested, but the blush had covered the eldest's face again, and teasing him was too much fun to pass up (considering the opportunity arose so seldom).
“It’s a good thing he likes to keep to himself. He’d give father awful trouble if he ever decided he wanted to be King. The people love him; they call him a hero in the North, East and West. Most of the people here are in awe of him too.” Býleistr shrugged at the wide-eyed glance Loki threw him. “He’s always been kind and respectful to us though, never caused real trouble, even when he is driving the council insane with his inappropriate antics and traitorous comments. Stark’s one of them sarcastic sorts, like yourself brother.” The youngest Jötun in the group winked then, enjoying the way Loki scowled immediately after his mouth turned up in a small, pleased smile at the comparison.
“You like him,” Helblindi teased, nudging his brother carefully. Often times, he forgot his own strength and sent the omega flying across the room or tumbling to the ground, but today he was careful. With the way Stark had stared at them as they led Loki away, it was best to be safe, to not accidentally hurt his brother: no one wanted an angry alpha as an enemy, especially not the Invincible Iron Man.
“Well,” Loki started, hesitant and soft. “He had the manners to speak to me instead of asking Father about me like I wasn’t worth his time. He built those, those things! He must be terribly clever?”
“He’s a witch too, you know?” Helblindi offered, eager to help Loki find a mate that suited him (probably the only mate that ever would, so it was best that Loki leapt first without thinking than to second guess it all and let the opportunity slip by him). “And handsome.”
“He is,” Loki agreed to the second comment, because, no, he hadn’t known about the first. But the thought of having someone to share his magic with made him giddy and he grinned widely in the direction of the palace doors, watching and waiting as others began to stream inside. “He has a beautiful smile, and I… it makes me feel good when he smiles at me.”
Anthony smiled at him again when Laufey entered the palace with the visitor by his side. It was wide and bright, and Loki felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of it. Starkson was handsome, classically so, with a straight nose and beautiful red eyes and a full mouth just made for kissing (or sucking cock, Loki’s mind supplied traitorously, making his cheeks blush again), and a slightly squared, strong jaw. There were lines across his forehead and whorls across his cheeks, delicate and beautiful, like Loki’s own markings though they meant different things, and there was one particular one across his nose beginning under his right eye and ending under his left like someone had tried, badly, to gouge his eyes out once. In his chest there was a round device, like the objects that powered his iron warriors, and it glowed faintly blue like the Casket of Ancient Winters did, and Loki could feel the hum of magic emanating from it once he concentrated.
“Old war wound,” Býleistr supplied helpfully. “Stark won.”
He was strong then, a warrior like most other Jötuns, but smart enough to use his magic and his metal creations, and determined enough to win. He paid Loki the time of day, smiling across the atrium at him again and smugly winking at the sight of Loki’s flustered wave back.
And best of all, Anthony Starkson was short!
XXX
He’d heard all of the stories of course, the gossip and the rumours, and the “Poor Laufey-King, to have a runt for an heir” conversations that went on any time a crowd gathered together anywhere. But Anthony had never actually realised how small the omega truly was, not until he had seen him with his own eyes. Tony himself was small for a Giant, inheriting it from his mother’s side of the family who was half-Ice Giant (always a little smaller than average anyway) and half-other (though no one had ever told Tony what). But he was still almost two heads taller than Loki. Tony’s forehead was level with the tip of Laufey’s nose, which wasn’t that much of a height difference in all honesty, but he was still considered short. Loki was almost two heads shorter; it was no wonder people used the word ‘runt’ to describe him, instead of saying ‘short’, or ‘small’ as omegas were wont to be.
It had been bad enough that certain family members (uncles, more specifically his father’s best friend) had tried to overthrow him, to kill him and steal his birth right because Tony wasn’t a ‘real’ Jötun, because Tony was a disappointment. Well, fuck him, and fuck anyone else who would dare. Tony had killed him, and killed the ones who had tried to kill him, and now he ruled the North with an iron (literally) fist. He offered aid to the King when asked, and he would offer his hand to the Prince because the kid (who was actually older than Tony) was beautiful and clever and almost painfully shy from what Tony had seen of him before, sneaking between the library and the kitchens, eyes averted so he wouldn’t have to speak with anyone, wouldn’t have to listen to them deride him. Loki probably got a lot of that growing up, or rather after he had stopped growing up but kept aging.
It wasn’t pity, because Tony Starkson didn’t do pity. Life was shit or it was what you make it and he had no time for people who sat around complaining while everything fell to bits around them. So, no, no pity. But there was sympathy, because Tony had been there; had never been enough, but at least Loki’s parents loved him, he was their runt, whereas Tony had been his father’s failure. A creation, one that had failed, but something he had made, not loved, not a son.
But Tony could understand how hard it must have been, growing up different, growing up alone. The eldest child who was too small to really be the big brother, too weak to protect the others. Magic helped, of course, but even then he must have been alone. Who had Loki learnt it from, Tony wondered, because neither of his parents practiced? Tony had been taught by a Jötun he had met during the failed assassination attempt: he had known about his magic before, but had never bothered to learn to use it, more concerned with throwing lavish parties and seducing as many omegas and women as he could, revelling in the life of the rich, popular Lord of the North after his parents’ deaths. Yinsen had taught him, and Tony had spent the interim years training himself to be faster with his spells, stronger with his sword, and to guard his trust more closely. But Loki must have taught himself, must still be teaching himself, and Tony wanted to be the one to show him more, and better, and wilder.
Apparently, Loki wanted something different. Or, someone different. When Tony asked for his hand, offered him one of his many iron men, offered to custom-make him one of his own out of molten gold and green paint and Loki's own magic so that it's chest would glow green instead of blue, Loki said no.
Tony didn't usually get told no, and when it actually happened he stopped and stared, blinked twice, while all around them Jötuns began whispering and chuckling, but not at Tony. Some of the women tsk-ed at Loki's retreating back, shaking their heads at the foolishness of an omega turning down an alpha that each of them wanted. Most of the other alphas laughed outright, lips curling cruelly as they muttered to one another (Loki's shoulders tensing as he walked, pretending he couldn't hear them) about how no one else would want him, how he should have just accepted and made do, shame he was going to end up alone and unmated, and with his heat almost due again, pity that. Loki's family sighed, Laufey frowning and Helblindi rolling his eyes at the stubbornness of his elder brother. Býleistr glanced at him, likely trying to guess whether Tony would renew his offer or give up on Loki for good. It was the first, for a moment anyway, and then Loki got to the threshold of the atrium and glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes were half-closed, lashes purposely fluttering as Loki's gaze raked up and down Tony's half naked body twice. Then he licked his lips.
On Laufey's other side, Fárbauti giggled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced between his alpha-husband and the alpha her son sought to seduce.
"This is his first attempt," Fárbauti muttered conspiratorially. "Go easy on him."
Anthony's lips curved up. He met Loki's gaze, and winked back.
Tony snorted softly, wondering at the audacity of the omega who had been blatantly surprised at the attention from any alpha, let alone a famous, rich one who was in good standing with the King; to risk playing hard to get when it could end with him being overlooked in favour of an easier target (uh, mate) was ballsy. Tony had to give Loki points for that and for doing it in front of an audience too, made up of the people who had decided to reject him already. It was one more reason to want to keep the kid around.
Affirmed bachelor, Anthony Starkson, already thinking about his future life with an omega he hadn't even claimed yet. Who would have thought.
XXX
Loki knew he couldn't do better, in fact, Loki didn't want to do better. He would have picked Stark over any of the other alphas present even if they had made him an offer. But just because Tony was the first and only alpha to want him, didn't mean that Loki had to pick him straight away. In fact, it went against all of his instincts to simply accept. The omega in him needed to make sure the alpha was serious in his pursuit; he didn't want to end up pregnant and alone, shamed and abandoned because he was too quick to fall into bed. He needed to know the alpha could protect him and their future children, but bringing only two of his metal warriors all the way from the far North (when others had come from the next town over with a company of twenty Jötuns) appeased that instinct. Tony could provide for them, and Loki's parents already knew him and liked him, so his brothers would as well, Loki was sure.
But what really made Loki want to stop playing around and accept was the fact that Tony let him in the first place. The alpha never complained once in the three weeks since Loki had first refused him. Loki continued to refuse him, to scoff at any gifts Tony had offered him or offered to buy for him afterwards, offered to make him, or teach him (though he still demand those lessons on conjuring magical fire), and yet Tony kept offering. It was flattering and wonderful and Loki allowed himself to smirk, chest puffed out with pride as each of the other alphas and their parties left the palace for their own cities and homes... but Anthony stayed.
Loki's brothers had long since stopped trying to keep Stark away from him (at first accepting Loki's rejection of the suit, but since having realized that Loki was simply playing hard to get). The game was getting a little long though, and it was his bearer's insistence that Loki accept before he finally pushed the alpha too far. Loki listened and Loki agreed, but Loki waited one more day anyway.
The next day, Loki went into heat.
Býleistr usually stood outside of his door. He was large enough to dissuade others from trying to get into the room, drawn by the scent of an omega in heat despite knowing who it was and knowing they did not want him, but young enough not to be bothered by the scent of Loki himself. Today though, Býleistr did not wait outside: he walked Loki through the halls of their father's palace instead, glaring and snarling at anyone who so much as sniffed curiously in Loki's direction.
The heir’s hands shook, fingers clenching around the fabric that covered his legs, sticking to him, wet with sweat. Loki jumped when he felt a hand take his, squeezing until his own stopped trembling.
"Nervous?" Býleistr asked, trying to sound calm when his own heart was pounding in his chest. This was a big deal, being Loki's first time ever, and who's to say their bearer hadn't been right two days ago when he told Loki to go yesterday and accept Stark's offer. What if it was too late?
Loki nodded slowly, thinking all of the same thoughts as his brother, but biting his bottom lip to keep them from tumbling out between his trembling lips.
"It will be ok," Býleistr added. He quickly pulled his hand away from Loki's as they came into sight of Tony's bedroom door. It was thick and heavy and carved from solid ice, as was most of the palace, but unlike the other doors in the corridor, Tony's was wide open.
The visitor stood framed in the doorway, legs spread and bent, but his toes were curled into the ground, to keep himself from springing forward and grabbing onto the omega. His hands created fissures in the ice where he touched them, fingers white from the force of his grip; he wanted to drag Loki into the room and away from the other male, wanted to drag Loki towards him and never let go, but he didn't want to hurt the omega. And the omega had said no.
But then Loki was against his chest, pressing against him so suddenly that Tony let out a squeak of surprise and even Býleistr looked confused by the sudden movement. Magic, the youngest brother realized as he started to back off down the corridor, Loki had used magic to teleport closer to his mate. Loki clung to him with both arms, one leg rising up to try and wrap around the larger male’s waist, and Tony took the hint, his own hands coming down to grab Loki’s arse and lift him. Tony carried Loki back into his room, kicking the door closed behind them as Loki’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist and the witch ground their crotches together as best he could.
“Stop,” Tony ordered, his voice deep and rumbling. With a moan Loki went stiff and still. He whimpered, burying his face against Tony’s throat and nuzzled. “Patience,” the alpha added, one of his hands moving up to rub soothingly down Loki’s back. “You are in heat,” he pointed out unnecessarily, and in response Loki only moaned again, lips moving restlessly against the flesh of Tony’s throat, tongue licking the salt from his skin and teeth leaving their marks.
Loki couldn’t remember what he had planned to do. There was something about seducing, that much he was certain of, but the rest of his plan was forgotten as Tony threw him down onto the bed, loin cloth ripped off and thrown to the corner of the room before the alpha was crawling up along him, lying down over him and pinning him in place. Loki’s own clothing met a swift end, and there was something he was supposed to do, something his bearer had suggested he do. Strip. He was supposed to strip for his mate, wiggle his hips a little and tease him; make him want me, Loki remembered. But it seemed unnecessary now, with the alpha’s hard length rubbing against Loki’s thigh as Tony leant down to kiss him, mouth hard against his unresisting lips, bruising him with their desire to taste and take and claim.
Loki spread his legs, too far gone to be embarrassed by the rush of wetness that escaped from between them once he had done so. That always happened when he went into heat: his body was lubricating itself, making sure he was ready to be claimed, making sure that he wouldn’t be hurt too badly if the alpha was too far gone to prepare him. But it had never happened with someone else in the room before, and Loki felt his cheeks burn with shame, even as his legs stayed splayed, when Tony chuckled lightly.
“Needy,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to Loki’s cheeks, one after the other until the Prince was tilting his chin up begging silently for a real kiss. “I like you like this. But I liked you as you were as well,” Tony admitted, a half-smile on his mouth when he pulled back enough that Loki could see all of his face at once. “You are perfect.”
“I am yours,” Loki corrected. He arched his hips up, wanting and needing the alpha to claim him. He had read about this, and his bearer had unfortunately tried to explain this to him after his first heat, and he knew how it was supposed to go. Perhaps first times should be slow and careful and loving, but Loki was in heat and omegas in heat wanted two things: their mate’s cock and their mate’s seed. Loki wanted both now, and Tony was being far too slow about giving them to him. “Now fuck me!” He demanded, as he reached down one hand to curl his fingers around the alpha’s cock, stroking twice firmly before guiding it to his entrance.
Tony watched him, his head tilted to the side so that he could better see as Loki used one hand to prod at the slit that opened up along his perineum, two fingers easily slipping inside of him before he pulled them away and replaced them with Tony’s cock. The unfamiliar feeling of something pressing against his entrance stripped Loki of his previous cockiness, and he tensed abruptly, fingers retreating to clutch at the furs spread beneath him instead, face turned away in embarrassment. There was no fear: his heat didn’t allow for second guessing the action, but rather the response he might receive. He did not wish to make a fool of himself, nor to displease his mate so much so that the alpha might decide to go elsewhere for his future pleasure. Loki did not want to disappoint, and since he had never lain with anyone before, he was sure that he would. But thoughts of that too slipped from his mind as Tony thrust his hips forward lightly, the blunt head of his cock nudging once more at the slippery folds between Loki’s legs.
Tony pressed easily inside of the omega; Loki’s legs instinctively parting further and then curling up around Tony’s waist to keep him close. Loki’s arms were around his neck, the fingers of one hand twisted into the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck and the other reaching over to squeeze painfully tight around his shoulder blade, nails digging into the hollow there. His breath was harsh and hot against Tony’s jaw, as the taller Jötun rocked above him; shallow thrusts at first until Loki got used to the strangeness of being full up and stretched out. Then, eventually, faster and harder, and Loki wailed beneath him, mouth hanging open when he wasn’t crying out, desperately trying to suck in air as each of Tony’s thrusts forced his breath back out of his lungs.
There was a growling noise somewhere above him, and for a moment the omega feared that someone had gotten inside the room (wasn’t Býleistr supposed to be keeping guard? Hadn’t he left them though?) But no, it was Tony who was growling. His teeth were bared and his pupils had dilated so much that Loki couldn’t tell that his eyes had ever been any colour other than black, but he didn’t miss the bright red that used to be there, not when Tony was watching him with such primal hunger, with need. Loki swallowed heavily, throwing his head back instinctively as the alpha’s lip curled back even further, revealing his teeth more fully. Loki knew what Tony wanted, just as he knew what he himself needed: he arched his throat again, turning his face away from his mate and tilting his head so that Tony could lean down to nuzzle the skin more easily. He licked twice, and nipped lightly over Loki’s pulse point (which jumped wildly under Tony’s touch), and then he bit down hard, breaking through skin as easily as a knife through soft butter and Loki screamed.
Tony continued to rock his hips, wild and brutal, and he should have been more careful because Loki was smaller than him, weaker than him, but his nails were sharp and demanding and his ankles pushed painfully against the curve of Tony’s spine and his mouth was begging unabashedly for more. And when he screamed, he pulled Tony closer, clinging frantically to him as his body trembled, and his muscles clenched around Tony’s cock, cunt wet and demanding as it milked his seed from him. Tony kept his face where it was, licking at the blood that beaded to the surface, lapping leisurely like a cat as his hips continued their movement, forcing his cock in and out of the channel that had tightened considerably after Loki’s orgasm.
“Please,” the omega whispered, shifting his legs higher on Tony’s waist, climbing up his body to give him more space with which to move within him. “Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, too far gone from his pleasure and release, body limp and sleepy but limbs still clinging desperately because he needed something and he wasn’t letting go until Tony gave it to him. What, he wasn’t sure, but the alpha seemed to know because he sped up his thrusts, hands moving to grasp Loki’s arse, one cheek in the palm of each hand and he lifted the omega up so that Tony could sit back on his knees with the omega pulled awkwardly into his lap as Tony fucked him.
When Tony came, the sudden rush of heat his seed stirred in Loki’s body was followed immediately by an unexpected pressure just within his entrance. It was a stretch, like the first press of Tony’s cock, and a burn that was unfamiliar and terrifying and Loki cried out, whimpering pathetically, as something grew within him. He fell still and silent though, instincts appeased as the knot became fully formed, lodged inside of his cunt.
“What?” He mumbled. Loki realised he knew the answer to that question, but the word had slipped out regardless. His bearer had talked to him about this, about mating with an alpha in heat and how it would be different to Loki taking a lover when he wasn’t in heat. In heat, instinct would drive him to mate, to breed, and the alpha’s instinct would mirror his own; his cock would grow to fill him, and then grow again to keep them locked together until the alpha’s seed had enough time to complete its function. Whether he became pregnant was a matter of luck and the will of their gods, but biology would do all it could to help them along.
“Mine,” the alpha snarled, mouth bloody as he lifted his face away from Loki’s neck.
The wound had healed already. All that remained was a faint marking, like the whorls that already covered Loki’s skin, in a semi-circle the width of Tony’s mouth, little white dots along the line where his teeth had once been. It was Loki’s mark, like a wedding ring, that said he was claimed and owned and wanted; not just fucked and then abandoned, like he’d always feared he would be. And he was knotted too, legs still curled around Tony’s waist, but back bent awkwardly. Tony turned them, noticing Loki’s wince, until he was lying flat on his back with Loki seated in his lap, a leg splayed on either side of his mate. He lay forward, head pillowed on Tony’s chest and spine curved and groins together, content to lie there and bask in each other’s presence until Tony’s knot receeded.
Loki trailed on finger over his alpha’s nipple, flicking the bud lightly as he considered what he should say. Tony had attracted his interest, and his respect, because he had allowed Loki the illusion of choice, allowed him to pretend that he could reject this alpha and still have hope of finding another. Tony had let Loki play his games, and had responded in turn, and now that they were mated (married without the ceremony, in all honesty) Loki wondered if Tony still wanted to play.
“No,” he whispered at last, glancing up cautiously at his dozing alpha. Tony’s eyes were closed and his mouth still bloody, but he squinted open one eye, which had gone back to its usual red, to peer curiously at the omega. “You are mine, peasant.”
Tony’s lips twitched, and though he tried to appear stern Loki could see the amusement written plain as day in the lines around his mouth and eyes. “Is that so?” Loki only nodded, his own mouth twisting into a cocky smirk as Tony appeared set to continue playing. “Well if I am yours, you must have some use for me? Then tell me, omega, how best shall I please my Prince?”
Loki laughed, light and soft, and Tony smiled widely at the sound of it. His hands were gentle on Loki’s waist, thumbs rubbing circles along his hip bones.
“You could start by kissing me, alpha!” The Prince demanded. He tilted his chin forward, but did not move any further. Tony had to sit up, hands holding Loki against his chest to keep him from tumbling backwards at the sudden motion. He pulled the omega as close as he could, one hand now on Loki’s cheek to hold his face still and the other slipping down to check on his knot: if he could press a finger inside he would fuck Loki again, before his next cycle came upon them, and if not then he was happy enough to finger his arse, to play with his prostate as Loki writhed and groaned in his lap, panting and moaning and begging for more. But first, that kiss.
“Ah,” Tony protested, even as he leant forward to brush their lips playfully together, “but that would be my pleasure.”
The End
This one was the one I was looking forward to the most, but it actually turned out to be the hardest thing I’ve had to write this year so far. Oh, wow, that was horrible. No more Jötun!Tony stories ever, I’m sorry. Didn’t help that I got a cold in the middle of it and felt like shit while trying to finish it. Please enjoy, regardless of my issues!