Re: Fill: Strange Bedfellows 13/?
anonymous
July 17 2013, 05:44:16 UTC
The briefest spark of mischief when Loki looked at Doom's world map, even before the mortifying incident where he had kissed him, was enough to keep Victor's hope alive.
Of course, none of this did anything to help him figure out who it was that was so dangerous and felt the need to deliver the near-corpse of von Doom's ally to his doorstep.
And so there was only one thing to do.
It was apparent that the thing that had been Loki was desperately lonely. In the way he followed the man he fully expected to turn on him with untold horrors, in the way the god stole shy glances at his sole companion (Doom dared not allow anyone but himself near the trickster; with all of this going on, he suddenly felt that his background checks for servants were not nearly thorough enough).
In the way he tended to inch closer, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes pitifully, when the two of them were seated in the same room.
For some absurd reason or another, this broken version of Loki craved affection. And if Doom hoped to speed the god's recovery, to gain his trust and then finally the information - he had to give it to him.
And so it was that, with the most bizarre possible mixture of feelings, Doom beckoned Loki to his bed on the eighth night of the god's recovery from near-death.
Anticipating the typical violent reaction this Loki had to any gifts, Doom had lured the unsuspecting trickster into his own room under the guise of retrieving supplies for a war game simulation. Then he'd locked the door.
And Loki had not spat and hissed and backed into a corner, had not threatened any sort of violence or demanded release or even disavowed his desire for such a thing.
He had simply paled, and sat down on the bed.
No. No no no no no. No. This horror could not be the Loki he knew.
For it was apparent in the trickster's pallor, the emptiness of his face, the practiced-mechanical way in which he sat, that the former god was expecting to be raped.
NO.
Had they used this precise scenario against him? Had Loki experienced the most horrific kind of undoing at the hands of Doom himself, a hallucination drawn from his own memory by whoever-the-hell had tortured him?
No.
Rage and horror almost strong enough to make Victor von Doom vomit passed, and when they had passed the trickster was still looking at him with that horrible emotionless expectation.
Very, very cautiously, Victor stood up. He did not remember sliding down against the wall.
There would be no point in saying 'I won't hurt you'; what else would a horrific hallucination say? No point in all at making a show of gentleness, of trying to convince Loki of his at-least-harmless intent - the entire prior week had been an exercise in futility in that department.
So Victor stood up, unbarred the door, and opened it.
The creature that had been Loki blinked at him, momentarily confused.
And then there was the faintest shadow of the Loki he had known in the surprise that surfaced, in the slight unconscious of posture as the god rose to his feet, and left through the open door.
Of course, none of this did anything to help him figure out who it was that was so dangerous and felt the need to deliver the near-corpse of von Doom's ally to his doorstep.
And so there was only one thing to do.
It was apparent that the thing that had been Loki was desperately lonely. In the way he followed the man he fully expected to turn on him with untold horrors, in the way the god stole shy glances at his sole companion (Doom dared not allow anyone but himself near the trickster; with all of this going on, he suddenly felt that his background checks for servants were not nearly thorough enough).
In the way he tended to inch closer, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes pitifully, when the two of them were seated in the same room.
For some absurd reason or another, this broken version of Loki craved affection. And if Doom hoped to speed the god's recovery, to gain his trust and then finally the information - he had to give it to him.
And so it was that, with the most bizarre possible mixture of feelings, Doom beckoned Loki to his bed on the eighth night of the god's recovery from near-death.
Anticipating the typical violent reaction this Loki had to any gifts, Doom had lured the unsuspecting trickster into his own room under the guise of retrieving supplies for a war game simulation. Then he'd locked the door.
And Loki had not spat and hissed and backed into a corner, had not threatened any sort of violence or demanded release or even disavowed his desire for such a thing.
He had simply paled, and sat down on the bed.
No. No no no no no. No. This horror could not be the Loki he knew.
For it was apparent in the trickster's pallor, the emptiness of his face, the practiced-mechanical way in which he sat, that the former god was expecting to be raped.
NO.
Had they used this precise scenario against him? Had Loki experienced the most horrific kind of undoing at the hands of Doom himself, a hallucination drawn from his own memory by whoever-the-hell had tortured him?
No.
Rage and horror almost strong enough to make Victor von Doom vomit passed, and when they had passed the trickster was still looking at him with that horrible emotionless expectation.
Very, very cautiously, Victor stood up. He did not remember sliding down against the wall.
There would be no point in saying 'I won't hurt you'; what else would a horrific hallucination say? No point in all at making a show of gentleness, of trying to convince Loki of his at-least-harmless intent - the entire prior week had been an exercise in futility in that department.
So Victor stood up, unbarred the door, and opened it.
The creature that had been Loki blinked at him, momentarily confused.
And then there was the faintest shadow of the Loki he had known in the surprise that surfaced, in the slight unconscious of posture as the god rose to his feet, and left through the open door.
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