Redemption Songs Part 06b - Harry/Loki - NC17
PREVIOUS HERE
Here we go! The porn just wouldn’t agree with me, so it took far longer than necessary… But in the meantime, I managed to write another FrostIron one shot if anyone hasn’t seen it yet but is interested.
Also. Yes. There are finally pictures of Tom Hiddleston on the set of Thor: the Dark World! HERE
Now. ENJOY!!
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Words: 5,212
Chapter 6
December 24th 2014.
“Wzza did yuuuz shey?” Harry asked around the toothbrush in his mouth. Loki had murmured something a moment ago, but from the bedroom through the closed bathroom door, the words had gotten lost. Harry hadn’t caught more than ‘bed’, which was admittedly enough to intrigue him.
Loki didn’t reply to him, so Harry finished getting ready for bed. He was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and no top, having gotten used to finding Loki lying naked and waiting for him, but never wanting to assume either.
It was cold out, being December, but they were spared the snow that used to ruin his mornings while he was living in New York. Loki didn’t seem to be particularly bothered by the cold, and he didn’t usually mind the heat either, though Miami had been uncomfortably warm for both of them. So Harry left the heating on most of the day, and cast warming charms on himself and Eileifer at night, and let Loki be. Frost Giant though he was, he was usually warm to the touch, especially at night when Harry was using him as a heater. His skin was cold while it was blue, even though his fingers and lips were always a little chilly but Harry thought that was more to do with magic than genetics: his wand grew cold if it wasn’t used often enough too. But Loki’s kisses were like flames, dangerous and burning, all consuming; being a little cold before bed was always a small price to pay for the chance to spend the night surrounded by that fire.
“Hey,” Harry greeted, glancing up at Loki only to freeze in shock. “What?”
He was used to Loki waiting for him, lying naked on the bed, smiling coyly at him or biting her bottom lip shyly. But this was new. The last time he had seen Loki even partially naked as a man had been a year and a half ago when Harry had found him cowering in an alley in New York. And now the god sat in the middle of the bed, his pale legs pulled up against his chest and his arms curled around them. Dark hair hid his face like a curtain, but when Harry stopped speaking, Loki looked up slowly. He used one arm to brush his hair back, and the other released his legs, allowing them to spread out straight in front of him. Harry pressed one hand to one of Loki’s feet, rubbing gently, as the god considered him.
“I took the liberty of preparing myself,” Loki told him softly. “I wanted to make sure it was done right.”
“Have I ever hurt you before?” When Loki shook his head, no, Harry sighed. He climbed onto the bed, so he was sitting beside Loki, with his legs stretched out parallel. “Why would you think I’d hurt you now?”
“This body is different. My other, my female form, when I am excited I am self-lubricating, that body is more accustom to sexual intercourse than my male form. Except for them, and they hurt me, so…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“I’m not them. And rape isn’t sex.” Harry ran a hand over his face, sighing. “I was always on the bottom before, with Tom; if you want you could top me?” The look of distaste Loki pulled answered that question fairly well. Harry knew how he felt: when he and Ginny were together, he was happy to let her take the lead as well, and then Voldemort spent years dominating him, and now Loki, who while always the one penetrated was also always in control. But apparently that desire for control didn’t extend to be the one penetrating.
“I like belonging to you.” Harry didn’t know what he meant, because of course Loki was his. He figured it might be an Asgardian thing, or a Jotnar issue, because didn’t they mate for life? Maybe it was something to do with that? But now wasn’t the time to ask about it, so instead Harry agreed softly and leaned over to kiss his lover.
Loki’s hands moved instinctively, threading fingers through Harry’s dark hair and holding on tight as their mouths moved together. It was with well-practised ease that Harry pulled at Loki’s waist, urging the man to slip into his lap, one leg at either side of his hips. They continued to kiss; mouths pressed tightly together except for the occasional seconds they pulled apart gasping for breath, only to surge back together again like polar magnets. Loki moaned, arching his back in order to press his cock against Harry’s. Harry’s hands squeeze at his waist, nails biting in as he panted.
Loki, having been thoroughly distracted by Harry’s kisses, gave a startled mewl as a finger pressed its way inside of him. He glanced down with wide eyes, fixing his sight upon the face of his lover, at the first to touch him this way in a year and a half. The finger twisted within him, and Loki gasped, legs spreading wider of their own violation and he moved to kneel above Harry allowing him unrestricted access. Harry’s other hand kneaded his arse, squeezing and stroking lightly every time Loki gasped, and one by one more fingers pressed inside of him to join the first.
“I would have you,” Loki whispered, ducking his head down to mouth at Harry’s collarbone.
With a whispered spell, Harry’s hand was slick again, and he spread his fingers inside of Loki twice more before withdrawing them and smearing the lubricant over his erection. Loki shifted forward until he was hovering above Harry’s cock, and Harry held the base to keep it steady as Loki lowered himself down.
The Asgardian’s bottom lip was bleeding, his teeth digging into the soft flesh a little more with every inch that Harry pressed into him. The Wizard groaned, head thrown back against the pillow, and hips bucking up, seeking more of the sinfully tight heat that was offered to him. He waited until Loki was fully seated on him, breathing heavily through his nose with his pupils blown wide with lust and a little fear, before Harry’s hands held tightly to Loki’s hip and thigh, holding him secure while he flipped them. When Loki was beneath him, both arms held above his head, fingers digging into the pillow, Harry began to move; he pulled out almost all of the way before thrusting back in in one smooth motion, and Loki screamed. He had forgotten the pleasure that came from having his prostate struck, having grown too used to sex as a woman, and the touch of Harry’s cock against the nerves inside of him made his legs tremble as they wrapped around Harry’s waist to drag him down closer, to demand more.
They rocked together, a rhythm that was as familiar to them both as breathing. Harry knew where to touch to make Loki moan, his nipples just as sensitive as his female form’s, and Loki knew to bite down on the column of Harry’s throat to make him buck viciously up into him, and Harry panted against Loki’s mouth, tongue flicking out to tease at his bottom lip, because it made Loki whimper with need. Fingers left the pillow he had been clinging to, and tangled into Harry’s hair instead, forcing the man’s head down closer so that their lips could meet again. It was messy and desperate and Loki groaned into Harry’s mouth as the man’s hand came to grip him tightly.
“Please, please, please,” he begged softly, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, lids closing and flying open again every time his prostate was touched.
Harry stroked his cock, fist tight around the hard flesh, pulling roughly in time with his thrusts, which were beginning to lose their rhythm. Loki cried out beneath him as he came, head falling to press against the cradle of Harry’s neck and shoulder, and he moaned deeply as his seed covered Harry’s hand.
“I love you,” Harry whispered, smiling at the mumbled repetition Loki gave. His orgasm followed soon after; two more deep thrusts of his cock into Loki’s body, and his hands on Loki’s arse, pulling the cheeks apart and raising his hips a little more and then he was coming, crying his lover’s name as he threw his head back. Beneath him, Loki smiled. His arms were stretched over his head again, and Harry’s eyes were drawn to the lines of his chest and stomach (and the sticky mess left there), and then to his softening cock. Harry watched as he pulled out, smirking proudly as his cock slipped free of Loki’s body and the man gave a groan at the loss. Loki propped himself up on his elbows, looking between his own legs as well, and he flushed red at the trickle of seed that escaped him alongside Harry’s length.
“We should do that again,” Loki whispered, not looking away from the streaks on his inner thighs.
“Give me a few minutes, yeah?” Harry laughed softly, shifting to the side so that he could lie shoulder to shoulder with his lover. “Not all of us are Gods, you know.”
Loki laid his head against Harry’s chest, content to wait until the other man had recovered enough to rise to the occasion. His hand stroked lightly over Harry’s cock and down to caress his balls, and further to press adventurously against his perineum before sliding back up to stroke the slightly more interested flesh.
“You seem plenty recovered to me,” Loki chuckled. He continued to stroke Harry until the man was fully erect again, his own cock having hardened at the sight of Harry panting beneath his hand. Loki gave no protest when Harry knocked his hand away, and pushed, so that the god was on his back again, the Wizard lying over him, and his legs spread without prompting as their mouths met hungrily. As they came together again, Loki spared no thought for his jailors and his rapists or anyone else for that matter. None of that mattered anymore, it was his past, and while he would never be completely over it, it would never be his future. Harry was his future, and Loki had surrendered himself to that whole heartedly.
XXX
January 11th 2015. Asgard.
There were screams coming from the armoury.
It seemed that no matter how he tried, nor how hard he pushed himself or willed his legs to go, Thor could not get there any faster. He ran through the corridors, two guards at his back and Odin not far behind. His arms pumped as he ran, trying to speed himself up, but it was pointless, because time seemed to be slowing down around him and instead of him gaining speed the world around him was going faster and he felt like he was stuck in place. Thor growled, frustrated and afraid, because the screaming had stopped and that was never a good thing when one was being attacked.
He had only been back in Asgard but minutes, getting ready to meet with his father and Sigyn and the other scouts who had left their home to seek alliances against Thanos. And then the screaming had started. For the first time, Thor cursed how far away the armoury was from the audience chamber. Before, it had always been a relief, a blessing, because if anyone sought to attack them, the weapons would always be far away from the King and they would be (hopefully) arm-less. But now, now when he wished he had Loki’s ability to teleport from one place to another with merely a thought, he resolved to re-build the armoury closer when he was King.
Thor rushed through the open doorway; hammer raised in order to defend his home, but there was no one waiting to attack him. Instead, two guards were slumped on the floor, blood pooling around one of them and the other covered in a green fog that appeared to be choking him.
“Get a mage!” Thor shouted over his shoulder as the first guard following him caught up. The man turned immediately, and began running back in the other direction. The first guard was dead, Thor could tell as much from the amount of blood and the knife sticking out of his neck, but the second could be saved if they could dispel the magic in time.
“Loki’s work?” The second guard asked, entering the room with Odin and Sigyn at his heels. The majority of people had waited in the chamber for Odin’s return, but some had followed with their weapons raised, those who would rather blame Loki than Thanos and hoped to face the exiled Prince. Those who waited and feared were the ones who knew this was another attempt by the Mad Titan to steal the Tesseract.
It was an attempt that had succeeded, and Odin stood beside the empty pedestal that one held the Tesseract and the lines on his face were deeper than normal, longer and harsher and he looked as Thor felt: desperate.
“Father, what do we do?” Thor whispered, glancing around at the faces that peeked in through the threshold and those that waited inside of the doorway for instructions.
“Go to Midgard, Thor. That is surely where He is heading now. He will search for Loki, and for your Avengers. He will want his revenge.” Odin sighed tiredly, and Thor moved to clasp his father’s arm.
“I won’t let any of them come to harm, Father, I promise.”
“I know, my son,” Odin murmured, his own hand moving to squeeze Thor’s. They stared at each other in silence, until the mage entered the room, moving immediately to the still gasping guard. When the spell was cancelled, the guard had enough breath left in him to whisper one name before his eyes rolled back in his head. Thor clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in frustration because he had hoped the guard would know more, would have been able to help more, but they all already knew that Thanos was to blame here.
XXX
January 12th 2015. Midgard.
“Hey!” Clint shouted, waving one arm above his head. A head of dark hair weaved through the crowd just ahead of them, but it was the glimpse of green eyes and a familiar scar that had Clint so interested in the man.
The other Avengers watched with frowns, as Barton shoved his way ahead of them, wriggling through the people that packed New York like sardines in a tin. It was no surprise that the streets were busy. Everyone was headed to Times Square, where the Avengers would be hosting an interview with a journalist friend of Tony’s, or they would be if they could get through the crowd. Unfortunately, Thor had disappeared last night and Tony had spilt coffee on his suit and had insisted on changing into the suit and had to be talked out of it by Natasha, which hadn’t been pretty. So they were running late, and their car had been stopped three blocks back by the newly installed pedestrianized zone, and the police wouldn’t let anyone in cars through the barricade on the other side so they couldn’t have even doubled back and around. And now Clint was running off and calling attention to them, and people were starting to glance curiously at them. Bruce quickly ducked down, slumping his shoulders and hiding his face behind the thick purple scarf he was wearing.
“I’ll kill him,” Natasha hissed just as Clint managed to catch up with the stranger and grab his arm.
Tony gasped as the man swung around, his face a picture of startled terror before it smoothed back into the usual grin that Tony was familiar with. Harry continued to glance around though, as if expecting something else to jump out at him, but then he smiled at Clint. He stood up on his tip toes to catch the wide eyed gazes of the approaching Avengers over the heads of those in the crowd that separated them.
“Agent Barton, a pleasure to see you again.”
“Harry!” Clint crowed, pulling the other man into a furious hug, full of ribs cracking and feet lifting off of the floor and being swung around in a wide circle. Various passerbys shot them poisonous looks, or shoved at them with umbrellas and bags, but Clint paid them no attention. “How have you been! Where have you been?”
“Oh, I moved to Florida. I’m living down in Orleans now, with my partner.”
Clint glanced at Harry’s face, and then down to his chest and back up again. The familiar bump was missing from his stomach, and he asked, sounding hesitant, “and the baby?”
“Yeah, a boy. He’s with my partner at the moment. He only works part time, but he’s brilliant with our son, so he’s happy to babysit when I work away from home.” The other Avengers had caught up by this point, and Harry turned to smile at Tony. “Hello again. If you haven’t guessed, I’m your host for tonight. You know,” Harry glanced around at the crowd and shrugged, “if we ever manage to get there before they start showing the news in our spot or something. Hey, aren’t you missing somebody?”
“Thor had to go somewhere yesterday. He should be back in time I hope,” Steve said, offering his hand for Harry to shake. “Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.”
“This is Harry; don’t ask me what it’s short for though. She’s never told me.” Clint wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and grinned widely. “We used to be drinking buddies, well, I used to drink and she used to be pregnant. I haven’t seen her in about a year and a half.”
“Her?” Natasha and Tony asked simultaneous. “Pregnant?”
A crack of lightening interrupted anything Clint had been planning to say. Harry smiled awkwardly, cringing mentally as he cursed himself and this day. First, he woke up late, and Eileifer had thrown up all over his shirt, and when he’d gone to change, there was nothing clean that matched his trousers. Then Loki had been annoyed that he was leaving, because apparently Loki had ‘forgotten’ and booked a table for dinner that evening, and refused to accept Harry returning early in lieu of Harry not leaving at all. If Harry hadn’t have mentioned the Avengers at all, and just let Loki believe it was a run of the mill interview with boring same-old celebrities, everything would have been fine. But Loki was still jealous and insecure, regardless of how far they had come in their relationship he probably always would be. Harry had been thoroughly ‘distracted’ by his lover as he attempted to leave the house, eventually managing to apparate away when Loki turned to see what Eileifer was calling him for. Then, to make matters worse, he managed to mis-judge his destination and ended up in the middle of an alleyway rather than the theatre the interview was supposed to be recorded and streamed from. The traffic was ridiculous and being grabbed by Clint unexpectedly, after being warned that Thanos had the Tesseract by Loki and his dream walking, had nearly given him a heart attack.
And now, trust his luck that his old drinking buddy was one of the Avengers and, to make matters worse, never had been drunk enough to forget that Harry had been pregnant when they met. What could Harry say at the time but that he was a very tom-boyish girl? It was typical that it was the one thing Clint wanted to bring up in public, not the magic that Clint had seen him perform or the leaving his husband they had talked about or his being a journalist… But the fact that Harry had been pregnant.
“Hey!” Clint suddenly shouted, and thunder rumbled overhead. Rain started falling, like someone had poured a bucket of water over their heads, and in seconds they were all soaked to the bone. The sky opened with a crack, lights blinding anyone who dared look up, and as the lightning faded - purple, and blue and unnatural - the people around them began running, attempting to get off of the streets, because even they could tell that something dangerous was coming. But Clint? Clint just gaped at Harry and muttered, “you’re a MAN! But you were PREGNANT!”
“Magic,” Harry told him softly, one hand slipping into the pocket of his jacket to grab hold of his wand. He didn’t need it much, but it always helped ground him just before a battle started. The sky lit up again, and this time when it faded a creature stood before them, human-like but with skin the colour of drying blood, chapped and cracking in place, especially around his mouth as he grinned. It was a grin like a shark, full of teeth and bad intentions and Harry had seen it on Loki’s face just after he’d screamed himself awake from a nightmare.
“Thanos,” Harry breathed. His wand shook in his hand as he raised it to point at the Titan.
“Odinson!” The creature hissed at him, voice like gravel in a blender and by Harry’s side Tony flinched.
Thanos moved towards him, his eyes fixed intently on Harry, on who he mistakenly believed was Loki in disguise, but a hammer came flying through the air followed by another flash of unnatural lightning and then a body was slamming into the creature. Thor growled, climbing to his feet and calling Mjölnir towards him. “You would dare attack my comrades in arms? You would invade my home? That you would lay hands upon a son of Odin is a grave insult, one I demand you repay presently Titan!”
“Hey big guy, welcome back!” Tony shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth in the hopes that it would make his words carry over the sound of thunder the way Thor’s words seemed to.
“Odinson, you would cower behind these mortals like the pathetic waste of flesh that you are? Would you not defend your honour yourself?” Thanos taunted. He got to his feet awkwardly, like someone had pulled him up with a string and all his limbs had just followed along.
Thor gave a shout of rage, his cheeks flushing red as he over looked the fact that the creature was staring at a stranger, a Midgardian, while addressing him. “Who do you dare accuse of cowering? Face me when I engage you in battle!”
“Not you, son of Odin,” Thanos whispered, finally turning to grant Thor with the hint of a smile, eyes cold and teeth bared though his lips were hardly parted. “The other.”
“Sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else.” Harry tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Behind him, Natasha narrowed her eyes; her fists clenched as she took two steps forward to keep ‘Loki’ within easy reach. “But on that point, I’m going to assume you’re Thanos?”
The Titan narrowed his eyes again, inhaling deeply, nostrils flaring, before his eyes went wide again. “You are not the Trickster. But his scent is on your skin and his magic surrounds you. Who are you, Midgardian? Who are you to the one who betrayed me?”
A pained groan sounded from behind him, and Harry risked glancing over his shoulder in time for something green, that looked a lot like an oversized arm, to knock him out of the way. Harry landed on the ground with an ‘oomph’, groaning at Tony as the man attempted to pull him out of the Hulk’s war path.
“What?”
Tony gave him a hug, arm tight around Harry’s shoulders and he grinned widely, as he said, “Harry, bestest buddy of mine, I’d like you to meet the other big guy!”
XXX
January 12th 2015. Hogwarts.
The interview with the Avengers had been cancelled, which was understandable considering three of them were busy scraping themselves up off of the pavement. The Hulk hadn’t discriminated while he was smashing, and even Harry who had spent most of the fight shoved behind Iron Man, sans Iron Man suit, ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist. He had bailed on the hospital visit though, sneaking away while three SHIELD agents herded the others into a non-descript black SUV. It had been a pain in the arse to resist going home first, but if Thanos was following him (despite having been knocked around a bit by the Hulk and Thor before gaining the upper hand and then being shot at continuously by Natasha until he had disappeared during another flash of lightning) Harry would rather Thanos follow him to Lord Voldemort. Voldemort at least would be better prepared to deal with an invasion; at least if he was anything like he had been when Harry was married to him.
Instead, he apparated to the closest hospital, the same one he had brought Loki to the day he had found him huddled in an alleyway. From there, after his shoulder and wrist were fixed, Harry made his way to the Ministry of New York, and hopped a Portkey to a place that used to be called home.
Hogsmeade hadn’t changed a bit. It was still small, quaint and quiet, full of thatched buildings and cottages and Madam Rosmerta, a little older and rounder, was still dressed like a middle ages tavern girl. Hogwarts, in the distance, was the same breath taking sight it had always been, and Harry spun around in a full circle, breathing in the crisp January air, with a hint of frost tickling his nose, and he laughed softly because he had missed this place. The smells, the sights, even the sounds of children laughing the closer he got to the school, and it was like he had never left. He could imagine himself, sitting at the head table during the important feasts, working from home with Tom, sometimes in Tom’s office in Hogwarts, having to comfort little first years who were lost in the corridors… And then the rebellions started again, and he was banned from leaving their manor, banned from seeing anyone other than the handful of trusted Death Eaters in the inner circle. And then his miscarriage, and Loki, and Eileifer, and the Avengers, but despite it all, as Harry pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and smirked at the shocked gasps that rang out through the hall (much like in his own school days whenever he appeared unexpectedly), it was nice to be coming home.
XXX
Lord Voldemort’s presence wasn’t required at the school during term-time, unless it was at the welcoming and leaving feasts or something important was happening (like the Tri-Wizard Tournament that was held at Durmstrang back in 2012 and he had threatened each and every student with bodily harm if Hogwarts didn’t win before he let the contestant leave). But within minutes of Harry’s appearance, Lord Voldemort came striding through the doors to the Great Hall, banging them hard enough off of the walls to cause quite a few flinches throughout the room.
Or maybe, Harry thought, as he pushed out of the seat he’d taken, it was the way Tom looked that had terrified people.
Lord Voldemort’s eyes were narrowed, his fists clenched, one at his side and the other with a white-knuckled grip around his wand. He looked about ready to start spitting fire and it wouldn’t have surprised Harry to see steam coming out of his ears, but instead the man hissed angrily, like a dragon rather than a snake, something guttural and furious and full of fire. “CRUCIO!” Red light left the tip of his wand, and in front of every student at the evening meal, Harry dropped to the ground of the hall and screamed.
“I had forgotten how much that curse hurt when it was you who casts it.” Bellatrix’s curse hadn’t hurt half as bad, or at least Harry didn’t remember it hurting as much as this one had, nor the time Voldemort had used it on him in the graveyard in Little Hangleton. “I missed your birthday,” Harry whispered, still sprawled on the ground. He was smiling though, and he fished out a slip of paper from one of his pockets and held it out to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort snatched it from him, his eyes nothing more than slits of red, and his lips were pressed together so tightly that they were bone white, but his cheeks flushed red as he read the sentence over and over, unbelieving what he was seeing.
Our son was born on September 9th 2013…
“Is that why you left?” The words were softly spoken, but his fists were still clenched, though at the sound of crinkling paper Voldemort quickly loosened that hand. He glanced at the paper reverently, and then back up at Harry, and not for the first time the younger Wizard felt the guilt of keeping the father from his child. It wasn’t crippling, because it had been done out of his own fear for his child, but it hurt, a rock hard presence in his chest, pushing down on his lungs and against his heart, and he had to force himself to swallow twice before he could not, because the words just wouldn’t come. “And why did you not return sooner? Why is he not with you now, Harry?”
“That’s a long story,” Harry whispered, finally pushing himself to his feet. He accepted the hand Voldemort held out to him easily, allowing the man to tug him up that last little bit and steady him when his legs started shaking. “It’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually.”
Lord Voldemort turned on his heel, glancing around the room at the curious eyes that followed at his back, but he ignored them in favour of taking Harry’s hand and placing it in the crook of his arm, the way he used to whenever they went out in public together. Harry snorted at the action, remembering their first public appearance and how he had reached out to hold Voldemort’s hand. The man had snatched it back as if Harry had bitten him, and after a moment of staring wide-eyed at Harry’s shocked and hurt face, he had taken his husband’s hand and cradled it by his elbow. But this was not his husband. Mother of his heir, yes, as the child was born while they were married, but they were married no longer. Voldemort went to pull his arm away, but Harry grabbed hold of him, pressing his hand harder against the other man’s arm, encouraging him to keep his grip.
“I am sorry,” Harry whispered, as arm in arm Voldemort led him from the hall.
Some of the inner circle remained at the head table, some professors and some observers, and some because they were married to staff. But one man in particular narrowed his silver eyes. Much like Thanos had done, Fenrir Greyback took a deep breath and recoiled at the familiar scent that clung to Harry like a second skin.
It was one he had not smelt for centuries: Father.
XXX
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Fenrir will be explained in the chapter after next. But someone else important (and totally butchered from Marvel and re-made into my Frankenstein HP/Avengers-esque character) will be in the next chapter though. Guess who?
NEXT CHAPTER HERE :)
Here we go! The porn just wouldn’t agree with me, so it took far longer than necessary… But in the meantime, I managed to write another FrostIron one shot if anyone hasn’t seen it yet but is interested.
Also. Yes. There are finally pictures of Tom Hiddleston on the set of Thor: the Dark World! HERE
Now. ENJOY!!
* * *
Words: 5,212
Chapter 6
December 24th 2014.
“Wzza did yuuuz shey?” Harry asked around the toothbrush in his mouth. Loki had murmured something a moment ago, but from the bedroom through the closed bathroom door, the words had gotten lost. Harry hadn’t caught more than ‘bed’, which was admittedly enough to intrigue him.
Loki didn’t reply to him, so Harry finished getting ready for bed. He was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and no top, having gotten used to finding Loki lying naked and waiting for him, but never wanting to assume either.
It was cold out, being December, but they were spared the snow that used to ruin his mornings while he was living in New York. Loki didn’t seem to be particularly bothered by the cold, and he didn’t usually mind the heat either, though Miami had been uncomfortably warm for both of them. So Harry left the heating on most of the day, and cast warming charms on himself and Eileifer at night, and let Loki be. Frost Giant though he was, he was usually warm to the touch, especially at night when Harry was using him as a heater. His skin was cold while it was blue, even though his fingers and lips were always a little chilly but Harry thought that was more to do with magic than genetics: his wand grew cold if it wasn’t used often enough too. But Loki’s kisses were like flames, dangerous and burning, all consuming; being a little cold before bed was always a small price to pay for the chance to spend the night surrounded by that fire.
“Hey,” Harry greeted, glancing up at Loki only to freeze in shock. “What?”
He was used to Loki waiting for him, lying naked on the bed, smiling coyly at him or biting her bottom lip shyly. But this was new. The last time he had seen Loki even partially naked as a man had been a year and a half ago when Harry had found him cowering in an alley in New York. And now the god sat in the middle of the bed, his pale legs pulled up against his chest and his arms curled around them. Dark hair hid his face like a curtain, but when Harry stopped speaking, Loki looked up slowly. He used one arm to brush his hair back, and the other released his legs, allowing them to spread out straight in front of him. Harry pressed one hand to one of Loki’s feet, rubbing gently, as the god considered him.
“I took the liberty of preparing myself,” Loki told him softly. “I wanted to make sure it was done right.”
“Have I ever hurt you before?” When Loki shook his head, no, Harry sighed. He climbed onto the bed, so he was sitting beside Loki, with his legs stretched out parallel. “Why would you think I’d hurt you now?”
“This body is different. My other, my female form, when I am excited I am self-lubricating, that body is more accustom to sexual intercourse than my male form. Except for them, and they hurt me, so…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“I’m not them. And rape isn’t sex.” Harry ran a hand over his face, sighing. “I was always on the bottom before, with Tom; if you want you could top me?” The look of distaste Loki pulled answered that question fairly well. Harry knew how he felt: when he and Ginny were together, he was happy to let her take the lead as well, and then Voldemort spent years dominating him, and now Loki, who while always the one penetrated was also always in control. But apparently that desire for control didn’t extend to be the one penetrating.
“I like belonging to you.” Harry didn’t know what he meant, because of course Loki was his. He figured it might be an Asgardian thing, or a Jotnar issue, because didn’t they mate for life? Maybe it was something to do with that? But now wasn’t the time to ask about it, so instead Harry agreed softly and leaned over to kiss his lover.
Loki’s hands moved instinctively, threading fingers through Harry’s dark hair and holding on tight as their mouths moved together. It was with well-practised ease that Harry pulled at Loki’s waist, urging the man to slip into his lap, one leg at either side of his hips. They continued to kiss; mouths pressed tightly together except for the occasional seconds they pulled apart gasping for breath, only to surge back together again like polar magnets. Loki moaned, arching his back in order to press his cock against Harry’s. Harry’s hands squeeze at his waist, nails biting in as he panted.
Loki, having been thoroughly distracted by Harry’s kisses, gave a startled mewl as a finger pressed its way inside of him. He glanced down with wide eyes, fixing his sight upon the face of his lover, at the first to touch him this way in a year and a half. The finger twisted within him, and Loki gasped, legs spreading wider of their own violation and he moved to kneel above Harry allowing him unrestricted access. Harry’s other hand kneaded his arse, squeezing and stroking lightly every time Loki gasped, and one by one more fingers pressed inside of him to join the first.
“I would have you,” Loki whispered, ducking his head down to mouth at Harry’s collarbone.
With a whispered spell, Harry’s hand was slick again, and he spread his fingers inside of Loki twice more before withdrawing them and smearing the lubricant over his erection. Loki shifted forward until he was hovering above Harry’s cock, and Harry held the base to keep it steady as Loki lowered himself down.
The Asgardian’s bottom lip was bleeding, his teeth digging into the soft flesh a little more with every inch that Harry pressed into him. The Wizard groaned, head thrown back against the pillow, and hips bucking up, seeking more of the sinfully tight heat that was offered to him. He waited until Loki was fully seated on him, breathing heavily through his nose with his pupils blown wide with lust and a little fear, before Harry’s hands held tightly to Loki’s hip and thigh, holding him secure while he flipped them. When Loki was beneath him, both arms held above his head, fingers digging into the pillow, Harry began to move; he pulled out almost all of the way before thrusting back in in one smooth motion, and Loki screamed. He had forgotten the pleasure that came from having his prostate struck, having grown too used to sex as a woman, and the touch of Harry’s cock against the nerves inside of him made his legs tremble as they wrapped around Harry’s waist to drag him down closer, to demand more.
They rocked together, a rhythm that was as familiar to them both as breathing. Harry knew where to touch to make Loki moan, his nipples just as sensitive as his female form’s, and Loki knew to bite down on the column of Harry’s throat to make him buck viciously up into him, and Harry panted against Loki’s mouth, tongue flicking out to tease at his bottom lip, because it made Loki whimper with need. Fingers left the pillow he had been clinging to, and tangled into Harry’s hair instead, forcing the man’s head down closer so that their lips could meet again. It was messy and desperate and Loki groaned into Harry’s mouth as the man’s hand came to grip him tightly.
“Please, please, please,” he begged softly, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, lids closing and flying open again every time his prostate was touched.
Harry stroked his cock, fist tight around the hard flesh, pulling roughly in time with his thrusts, which were beginning to lose their rhythm. Loki cried out beneath him as he came, head falling to press against the cradle of Harry’s neck and shoulder, and he moaned deeply as his seed covered Harry’s hand.
“I love you,” Harry whispered, smiling at the mumbled repetition Loki gave. His orgasm followed soon after; two more deep thrusts of his cock into Loki’s body, and his hands on Loki’s arse, pulling the cheeks apart and raising his hips a little more and then he was coming, crying his lover’s name as he threw his head back. Beneath him, Loki smiled. His arms were stretched over his head again, and Harry’s eyes were drawn to the lines of his chest and stomach (and the sticky mess left there), and then to his softening cock. Harry watched as he pulled out, smirking proudly as his cock slipped free of Loki’s body and the man gave a groan at the loss. Loki propped himself up on his elbows, looking between his own legs as well, and he flushed red at the trickle of seed that escaped him alongside Harry’s length.
“We should do that again,” Loki whispered, not looking away from the streaks on his inner thighs.
“Give me a few minutes, yeah?” Harry laughed softly, shifting to the side so that he could lie shoulder to shoulder with his lover. “Not all of us are Gods, you know.”
Loki laid his head against Harry’s chest, content to wait until the other man had recovered enough to rise to the occasion. His hand stroked lightly over Harry’s cock and down to caress his balls, and further to press adventurously against his perineum before sliding back up to stroke the slightly more interested flesh.
“You seem plenty recovered to me,” Loki chuckled. He continued to stroke Harry until the man was fully erect again, his own cock having hardened at the sight of Harry panting beneath his hand. Loki gave no protest when Harry knocked his hand away, and pushed, so that the god was on his back again, the Wizard lying over him, and his legs spread without prompting as their mouths met hungrily. As they came together again, Loki spared no thought for his jailors and his rapists or anyone else for that matter. None of that mattered anymore, it was his past, and while he would never be completely over it, it would never be his future. Harry was his future, and Loki had surrendered himself to that whole heartedly.
XXX
January 11th 2015. Asgard.
There were screams coming from the armoury.
It seemed that no matter how he tried, nor how hard he pushed himself or willed his legs to go, Thor could not get there any faster. He ran through the corridors, two guards at his back and Odin not far behind. His arms pumped as he ran, trying to speed himself up, but it was pointless, because time seemed to be slowing down around him and instead of him gaining speed the world around him was going faster and he felt like he was stuck in place. Thor growled, frustrated and afraid, because the screaming had stopped and that was never a good thing when one was being attacked.
He had only been back in Asgard but minutes, getting ready to meet with his father and Sigyn and the other scouts who had left their home to seek alliances against Thanos. And then the screaming had started. For the first time, Thor cursed how far away the armoury was from the audience chamber. Before, it had always been a relief, a blessing, because if anyone sought to attack them, the weapons would always be far away from the King and they would be (hopefully) arm-less. But now, now when he wished he had Loki’s ability to teleport from one place to another with merely a thought, he resolved to re-build the armoury closer when he was King.
Thor rushed through the open doorway; hammer raised in order to defend his home, but there was no one waiting to attack him. Instead, two guards were slumped on the floor, blood pooling around one of them and the other covered in a green fog that appeared to be choking him.
“Get a mage!” Thor shouted over his shoulder as the first guard following him caught up. The man turned immediately, and began running back in the other direction. The first guard was dead, Thor could tell as much from the amount of blood and the knife sticking out of his neck, but the second could be saved if they could dispel the magic in time.
“Loki’s work?” The second guard asked, entering the room with Odin and Sigyn at his heels. The majority of people had waited in the chamber for Odin’s return, but some had followed with their weapons raised, those who would rather blame Loki than Thanos and hoped to face the exiled Prince. Those who waited and feared were the ones who knew this was another attempt by the Mad Titan to steal the Tesseract.
It was an attempt that had succeeded, and Odin stood beside the empty pedestal that one held the Tesseract and the lines on his face were deeper than normal, longer and harsher and he looked as Thor felt: desperate.
“Father, what do we do?” Thor whispered, glancing around at the faces that peeked in through the threshold and those that waited inside of the doorway for instructions.
“Go to Midgard, Thor. That is surely where He is heading now. He will search for Loki, and for your Avengers. He will want his revenge.” Odin sighed tiredly, and Thor moved to clasp his father’s arm.
“I won’t let any of them come to harm, Father, I promise.”
“I know, my son,” Odin murmured, his own hand moving to squeeze Thor’s. They stared at each other in silence, until the mage entered the room, moving immediately to the still gasping guard. When the spell was cancelled, the guard had enough breath left in him to whisper one name before his eyes rolled back in his head. Thor clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in frustration because he had hoped the guard would know more, would have been able to help more, but they all already knew that Thanos was to blame here.
XXX
January 12th 2015. Midgard.
“Hey!” Clint shouted, waving one arm above his head. A head of dark hair weaved through the crowd just ahead of them, but it was the glimpse of green eyes and a familiar scar that had Clint so interested in the man.
The other Avengers watched with frowns, as Barton shoved his way ahead of them, wriggling through the people that packed New York like sardines in a tin. It was no surprise that the streets were busy. Everyone was headed to Times Square, where the Avengers would be hosting an interview with a journalist friend of Tony’s, or they would be if they could get through the crowd. Unfortunately, Thor had disappeared last night and Tony had spilt coffee on his suit and had insisted on changing into the suit and had to be talked out of it by Natasha, which hadn’t been pretty. So they were running late, and their car had been stopped three blocks back by the newly installed pedestrianized zone, and the police wouldn’t let anyone in cars through the barricade on the other side so they couldn’t have even doubled back and around. And now Clint was running off and calling attention to them, and people were starting to glance curiously at them. Bruce quickly ducked down, slumping his shoulders and hiding his face behind the thick purple scarf he was wearing.
“I’ll kill him,” Natasha hissed just as Clint managed to catch up with the stranger and grab his arm.
Tony gasped as the man swung around, his face a picture of startled terror before it smoothed back into the usual grin that Tony was familiar with. Harry continued to glance around though, as if expecting something else to jump out at him, but then he smiled at Clint. He stood up on his tip toes to catch the wide eyed gazes of the approaching Avengers over the heads of those in the crowd that separated them.
“Agent Barton, a pleasure to see you again.”
“Harry!” Clint crowed, pulling the other man into a furious hug, full of ribs cracking and feet lifting off of the floor and being swung around in a wide circle. Various passerbys shot them poisonous looks, or shoved at them with umbrellas and bags, but Clint paid them no attention. “How have you been! Where have you been?”
“Oh, I moved to Florida. I’m living down in Orleans now, with my partner.”
Clint glanced at Harry’s face, and then down to his chest and back up again. The familiar bump was missing from his stomach, and he asked, sounding hesitant, “and the baby?”
“Yeah, a boy. He’s with my partner at the moment. He only works part time, but he’s brilliant with our son, so he’s happy to babysit when I work away from home.” The other Avengers had caught up by this point, and Harry turned to smile at Tony. “Hello again. If you haven’t guessed, I’m your host for tonight. You know,” Harry glanced around at the crowd and shrugged, “if we ever manage to get there before they start showing the news in our spot or something. Hey, aren’t you missing somebody?”
“Thor had to go somewhere yesterday. He should be back in time I hope,” Steve said, offering his hand for Harry to shake. “Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.”
“This is Harry; don’t ask me what it’s short for though. She’s never told me.” Clint wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and grinned widely. “We used to be drinking buddies, well, I used to drink and she used to be pregnant. I haven’t seen her in about a year and a half.”
“Her?” Natasha and Tony asked simultaneous. “Pregnant?”
A crack of lightening interrupted anything Clint had been planning to say. Harry smiled awkwardly, cringing mentally as he cursed himself and this day. First, he woke up late, and Eileifer had thrown up all over his shirt, and when he’d gone to change, there was nothing clean that matched his trousers. Then Loki had been annoyed that he was leaving, because apparently Loki had ‘forgotten’ and booked a table for dinner that evening, and refused to accept Harry returning early in lieu of Harry not leaving at all. If Harry hadn’t have mentioned the Avengers at all, and just let Loki believe it was a run of the mill interview with boring same-old celebrities, everything would have been fine. But Loki was still jealous and insecure, regardless of how far they had come in their relationship he probably always would be. Harry had been thoroughly ‘distracted’ by his lover as he attempted to leave the house, eventually managing to apparate away when Loki turned to see what Eileifer was calling him for. Then, to make matters worse, he managed to mis-judge his destination and ended up in the middle of an alleyway rather than the theatre the interview was supposed to be recorded and streamed from. The traffic was ridiculous and being grabbed by Clint unexpectedly, after being warned that Thanos had the Tesseract by Loki and his dream walking, had nearly given him a heart attack.
And now, trust his luck that his old drinking buddy was one of the Avengers and, to make matters worse, never had been drunk enough to forget that Harry had been pregnant when they met. What could Harry say at the time but that he was a very tom-boyish girl? It was typical that it was the one thing Clint wanted to bring up in public, not the magic that Clint had seen him perform or the leaving his husband they had talked about or his being a journalist… But the fact that Harry had been pregnant.
“Hey!” Clint suddenly shouted, and thunder rumbled overhead. Rain started falling, like someone had poured a bucket of water over their heads, and in seconds they were all soaked to the bone. The sky opened with a crack, lights blinding anyone who dared look up, and as the lightning faded - purple, and blue and unnatural - the people around them began running, attempting to get off of the streets, because even they could tell that something dangerous was coming. But Clint? Clint just gaped at Harry and muttered, “you’re a MAN! But you were PREGNANT!”
“Magic,” Harry told him softly, one hand slipping into the pocket of his jacket to grab hold of his wand. He didn’t need it much, but it always helped ground him just before a battle started. The sky lit up again, and this time when it faded a creature stood before them, human-like but with skin the colour of drying blood, chapped and cracking in place, especially around his mouth as he grinned. It was a grin like a shark, full of teeth and bad intentions and Harry had seen it on Loki’s face just after he’d screamed himself awake from a nightmare.
“Thanos,” Harry breathed. His wand shook in his hand as he raised it to point at the Titan.
“Odinson!” The creature hissed at him, voice like gravel in a blender and by Harry’s side Tony flinched.
Thanos moved towards him, his eyes fixed intently on Harry, on who he mistakenly believed was Loki in disguise, but a hammer came flying through the air followed by another flash of unnatural lightning and then a body was slamming into the creature. Thor growled, climbing to his feet and calling Mjölnir towards him. “You would dare attack my comrades in arms? You would invade my home? That you would lay hands upon a son of Odin is a grave insult, one I demand you repay presently Titan!”
“Hey big guy, welcome back!” Tony shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth in the hopes that it would make his words carry over the sound of thunder the way Thor’s words seemed to.
“Odinson, you would cower behind these mortals like the pathetic waste of flesh that you are? Would you not defend your honour yourself?” Thanos taunted. He got to his feet awkwardly, like someone had pulled him up with a string and all his limbs had just followed along.
Thor gave a shout of rage, his cheeks flushing red as he over looked the fact that the creature was staring at a stranger, a Midgardian, while addressing him. “Who do you dare accuse of cowering? Face me when I engage you in battle!”
“Not you, son of Odin,” Thanos whispered, finally turning to grant Thor with the hint of a smile, eyes cold and teeth bared though his lips were hardly parted. “The other.”
“Sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else.” Harry tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Behind him, Natasha narrowed her eyes; her fists clenched as she took two steps forward to keep ‘Loki’ within easy reach. “But on that point, I’m going to assume you’re Thanos?”
The Titan narrowed his eyes again, inhaling deeply, nostrils flaring, before his eyes went wide again. “You are not the Trickster. But his scent is on your skin and his magic surrounds you. Who are you, Midgardian? Who are you to the one who betrayed me?”
A pained groan sounded from behind him, and Harry risked glancing over his shoulder in time for something green, that looked a lot like an oversized arm, to knock him out of the way. Harry landed on the ground with an ‘oomph’, groaning at Tony as the man attempted to pull him out of the Hulk’s war path.
“What?”
Tony gave him a hug, arm tight around Harry’s shoulders and he grinned widely, as he said, “Harry, bestest buddy of mine, I’d like you to meet the other big guy!”
XXX
January 12th 2015. Hogwarts.
The interview with the Avengers had been cancelled, which was understandable considering three of them were busy scraping themselves up off of the pavement. The Hulk hadn’t discriminated while he was smashing, and even Harry who had spent most of the fight shoved behind Iron Man, sans Iron Man suit, ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist. He had bailed on the hospital visit though, sneaking away while three SHIELD agents herded the others into a non-descript black SUV. It had been a pain in the arse to resist going home first, but if Thanos was following him (despite having been knocked around a bit by the Hulk and Thor before gaining the upper hand and then being shot at continuously by Natasha until he had disappeared during another flash of lightning) Harry would rather Thanos follow him to Lord Voldemort. Voldemort at least would be better prepared to deal with an invasion; at least if he was anything like he had been when Harry was married to him.
Instead, he apparated to the closest hospital, the same one he had brought Loki to the day he had found him huddled in an alleyway. From there, after his shoulder and wrist were fixed, Harry made his way to the Ministry of New York, and hopped a Portkey to a place that used to be called home.
Hogsmeade hadn’t changed a bit. It was still small, quaint and quiet, full of thatched buildings and cottages and Madam Rosmerta, a little older and rounder, was still dressed like a middle ages tavern girl. Hogwarts, in the distance, was the same breath taking sight it had always been, and Harry spun around in a full circle, breathing in the crisp January air, with a hint of frost tickling his nose, and he laughed softly because he had missed this place. The smells, the sights, even the sounds of children laughing the closer he got to the school, and it was like he had never left. He could imagine himself, sitting at the head table during the important feasts, working from home with Tom, sometimes in Tom’s office in Hogwarts, having to comfort little first years who were lost in the corridors… And then the rebellions started again, and he was banned from leaving their manor, banned from seeing anyone other than the handful of trusted Death Eaters in the inner circle. And then his miscarriage, and Loki, and Eileifer, and the Avengers, but despite it all, as Harry pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and smirked at the shocked gasps that rang out through the hall (much like in his own school days whenever he appeared unexpectedly), it was nice to be coming home.
XXX
Lord Voldemort’s presence wasn’t required at the school during term-time, unless it was at the welcoming and leaving feasts or something important was happening (like the Tri-Wizard Tournament that was held at Durmstrang back in 2012 and he had threatened each and every student with bodily harm if Hogwarts didn’t win before he let the contestant leave). But within minutes of Harry’s appearance, Lord Voldemort came striding through the doors to the Great Hall, banging them hard enough off of the walls to cause quite a few flinches throughout the room.
Or maybe, Harry thought, as he pushed out of the seat he’d taken, it was the way Tom looked that had terrified people.
Lord Voldemort’s eyes were narrowed, his fists clenched, one at his side and the other with a white-knuckled grip around his wand. He looked about ready to start spitting fire and it wouldn’t have surprised Harry to see steam coming out of his ears, but instead the man hissed angrily, like a dragon rather than a snake, something guttural and furious and full of fire. “CRUCIO!” Red light left the tip of his wand, and in front of every student at the evening meal, Harry dropped to the ground of the hall and screamed.
“I had forgotten how much that curse hurt when it was you who casts it.” Bellatrix’s curse hadn’t hurt half as bad, or at least Harry didn’t remember it hurting as much as this one had, nor the time Voldemort had used it on him in the graveyard in Little Hangleton. “I missed your birthday,” Harry whispered, still sprawled on the ground. He was smiling though, and he fished out a slip of paper from one of his pockets and held it out to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort snatched it from him, his eyes nothing more than slits of red, and his lips were pressed together so tightly that they were bone white, but his cheeks flushed red as he read the sentence over and over, unbelieving what he was seeing.
Our son was born on September 9th 2013…
“Is that why you left?” The words were softly spoken, but his fists were still clenched, though at the sound of crinkling paper Voldemort quickly loosened that hand. He glanced at the paper reverently, and then back up at Harry, and not for the first time the younger Wizard felt the guilt of keeping the father from his child. It wasn’t crippling, because it had been done out of his own fear for his child, but it hurt, a rock hard presence in his chest, pushing down on his lungs and against his heart, and he had to force himself to swallow twice before he could not, because the words just wouldn’t come. “And why did you not return sooner? Why is he not with you now, Harry?”
“That’s a long story,” Harry whispered, finally pushing himself to his feet. He accepted the hand Voldemort held out to him easily, allowing the man to tug him up that last little bit and steady him when his legs started shaking. “It’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually.”
Lord Voldemort turned on his heel, glancing around the room at the curious eyes that followed at his back, but he ignored them in favour of taking Harry’s hand and placing it in the crook of his arm, the way he used to whenever they went out in public together. Harry snorted at the action, remembering their first public appearance and how he had reached out to hold Voldemort’s hand. The man had snatched it back as if Harry had bitten him, and after a moment of staring wide-eyed at Harry’s shocked and hurt face, he had taken his husband’s hand and cradled it by his elbow. But this was not his husband. Mother of his heir, yes, as the child was born while they were married, but they were married no longer. Voldemort went to pull his arm away, but Harry grabbed hold of him, pressing his hand harder against the other man’s arm, encouraging him to keep his grip.
“I am sorry,” Harry whispered, as arm in arm Voldemort led him from the hall.
Some of the inner circle remained at the head table, some professors and some observers, and some because they were married to staff. But one man in particular narrowed his silver eyes. Much like Thanos had done, Fenrir Greyback took a deep breath and recoiled at the familiar scent that clung to Harry like a second skin.
It was one he had not smelt for centuries: Father.
XXX
* * *
Fenrir will be explained in the chapter after next. But someone else important (and totally butchered from Marvel and re-made into my Frankenstein HP/Avengers-esque character) will be in the next chapter though. Guess who?
NEXT CHAPTER HERE :)