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What was madness, really, Tom idled as warm hands swept down his thighs, scraped behind his knees and prickled down his calves. Was it born? Was it made? Was it lurking in the depths waiting for some shallow prompting, a prodding of circumstances that jarred the pieces apart just wrong? Was it a shadow in the eyes, flickering green depths that raked his form? Research, he said. It will be fun, he said. Loki's fingertips danced down his spine, pain and pleasure lancing through him as one hand gripped his cock. "Ah...." The sound dripped off his tongue and Tom coiled, stretching beneath the god. But not a god, not really. Oh, perhaps in myths, legends, power that crackled beyond their own but a god? Tom was rapidly reforming and refining his definition of 'godhood' with every visit Loki paid him. It was as much Loki's curiousity as his own that had gotten them into a bit of a mess, and now at round two on the fourth visit (something in him cackled at the idea of him doing any kind of scientific research with a hypothesis and field work) Loki had finally drawn blood. Not that blood was off limits per se, but it certainly had earned a quick slap of Tom's hands and a squeak that made Loki giggle like a child, then he cooed as he licked the sore spot. Madness.
Was it being reared as an Asgardian, in Asgardian form with his true form hidden deep underneath that set the stage to push the shadow in him loose, or was it the final betrayal of learning who he really was? Or perhaps it was always loose, always a part of him as madness previously just child's play or creative thoughts, never noticed til there was some evil bent, some revenge that now no longer harmless was now considered madness because of its ill intent-"Haaaa... Loki...ow," Tom smacked that pale hand again and Loki smirked from where he'd been pushing four fingers into Tom's ass, without lube, and that was most definitely a rule.
"Rule twenty-seven, Thomas?" Loki's voice was a silky, petulant little purr and Tom rolled his eyes.
"There aren't twenty-seven rules," He growled, trying to sound stern but there was a sharp pinch to his ass and he jumped, jolting his still-hard length into the pillows. “There are ten and you’re an asshole.”
"You're getting distracted," Loki replied, the tone hardening and firming, and those fingers trailed up his spine to trace down it. Unbidden, the image of Loki ripping out his spine with one delicately boned handmade Tom nearly retch, but then there were lips at the nape of his neck and if there was anything to be researched, it would be the study of contradictions that the... Asgardian-Frost Giant made. And yet it wasn't a contradiction, and Loki was both that simple and not that simple at all he'd learned. There was violence, yes, and the capacity for violence but Loki had purpose. It was not aimless, wild destruction for the sake of itself, but masked as such Loki seemed a lot more sane in micro focus. The closer you looked, the more he made sense and Tom wasn't entirely certain how he felt about fitting into that skin on the silver screen. In fact it wasn’t even that Loki dripped implied violence from his fingertips, it was that he had had this look that something was going to go very wrong very quickly and it might involve fingernails getting ripped out while someone laughed hysterically. Tom dipped his head with a sigh, feeling leather and metal on his skin as Loki pressed his chest against Tom's bare back, then chuckled again and the actor felt the sound vibrate through him. Loki knew he mused, quiet and soft in his own head while they did this, eyes searching and exploring and Tom was conscious of how much Loki liked the attention. It was focus akin to worship and really, for all he knew Loki was only half there and a clone was touching him, teasing him, as Loki himself kept his true form masked in observation. But it was a chance he took, because that in and of itself was information and Tom was not afraid. Not... really.
Yet the first time that Loki really kissed him, Tom was certain he could taste death on his tongue and that death, that power that echoed through his own body that made him certain it really was the god.... godling? (Something to that effect) Loki tasted like death the first time he kissed Tom. Blinding sweet ecstasy wrapped up in power and need, a finality too great for Tom's human form to contain and when a spark of fear started to wriggle up his spine, Loki knew and tasted once again like honey and citrus, his tongue flicking and exploring its way into Tom's mouth and muttering about the mouthwash scent of his breath. Loki had not kissed him again.
Research, he said. It will be fun, he said. Tom couldn't remember if those were his words or Loki's, but the grin on the Norse god's face was sharp and sweet and Tom understood that curiousity as a tall, dark and starkly handsome, Loki swept around him with fingers that seemed everywhere and nowhere on his skin at once even though his clothing didn't even tug. "I like... fun," Loki had whispered in his ear, and promptly fucked him so hard into the wall of the bathroom that Tom had taken three days to recover. The next time they met, Loki brought a box of edible chocolate paint and Tom brought a list of rules.
Tom had looked up ‘madness’ in the dictionary. And the encyclopedia. He’d even read an entire thesis paper on the history of ‘madness’ etymologically speaking and frankly, he was pretty sure no one had ever met real madness. Or maybe it was that Loki wasn’t mad, per se. The quality or condition of being insane. Doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. (Or was that hope? Tom felt that was more hope than insanity) of behaving in a way that seemed unstable. Loki’s actions seemed unstable, til you had his dick in your ass and his frantic gasps in your ear and you weren’t sure if he’d lost it or you’d lost it first but he was hard again and your hands were numb from his grip. Or maybe he had finally lost it, Tom mused, and then that silk cut into his thoughts again.
"You're thinking too much," Loki murmured, and there was a jab of two wet fingers easing the way and Tom let out a squeak, feeling his body curl up and back into them, then rutting down and away.
"I'm supposed to be... doing research," Tom murmured, feeling teeth set into his shoulder, then that tongue smooth the marks away before they could set. Would kissing Thor be like tasting death? All that power, all that-no, Tom imagined kissing Thor would be like kissing sunlight-a hand slapped his skin just hard enough to hurt and for a brief moment, he worried that Loki could hear his thoughts but then it came again and he gasped, feeling desire sting through him.
"Well what's this?" Loki's voice was delighted, and Tom felt slightly guilty for his uncharitable thoughts towards him but no, no, it was towards the way he wasn't paying attention, wasn't holding up his end of the bargain with his... reverence. And that was another question. How could a mere mortal's attention delight Loki so much? It wasn't like he couldn't set up some little cult of his own, fools to dazzle and delight and drag some petty true worship out of but judging by the way Loki gasped and moaned under his tongue, Tom was certain Loki was less interested in cults and more in private...worship.
Tom roused and rolled his hips, shaking off some of his thoughts-particularly of the thunder god's lips-and shifted away from Loki so he could reach out and grab his hips, pull him in close for kiss after kiss down that alabaster throat. Tom himself was incredibly tanned by contrast and his own blue eyes sparkled as he looked up at Loki, who seemed to nearly writhe under these ministrations.
"Better?" Tom smirked, and Loki rolled his eyes, shifted away and stripped with a grace that didn't seem possible. Were Loki human, Tom had observed, he would have seemed awkward and gangly with those long arms and legs-he knew he himself was and if one were to photograph their physical bodies side by side you might exclaim over the resemblance. In person, however, to see Loki in front of you was an entirely different matter as if the power within him made him as graceful and poised as any ballet dancer. Except not ballet. Maybe a soldier reloading a weapon or a-
"...Thomas," Loki had quirked an eyebrow and Tom realized he'd been staring, eyes slightly glazed at the man's hips without really seeing them and he shook his head.
"You're beautiful," He answered the unspoken 'what are you thinking, I'm standing here naked.' There was a touch of suspicion, then pleasure at the compliment as Loki dismissed it with a hand.
"Of course," His tone was deceptively reasonable and then he pushed Tom back against the bed to ravish him again. On round two, Tom so far never needed stretching if it hadn't been long and especially if Loki used extra lube, and he'd learned the god delighted in surprising him. Whether it was between kisses or playing with his nipples there would be a sudden thrust, a roll of hips and he'd be so full he ached. On the last visit Tom had been too exhausted for the rough affection Loki wanted to show him and he'd vanished in a huff after biting his head off. Figuratively biting, of course. Tom's weary "must you bite my head off merely because I'm weary?" had gotten him some kind of snippy remark about his exhaustion and then Loki had offered to flood him with energy, had even started to and the degree to which he recoiled sent Loki stumbling away in surprise.
"It won't harm you," Loki studied him intently, bewilderment and anger in his eyes but Tom stood his ground, demanded Loki knock it off or leave and the godling had left, paler than usual and with a low hum of power that made Tom's teeth ache with his unseen displeasure. Tom had wearily stumbled into bed about thirty minutes later, falling into a deep sleep only to be woken an hour or two later by Loki in his bed rolling him onto his stomach. "...in civilized places this is rape," Tom mumbled into a pillow as he felt his hands being pinned and Loki's mouth hot against his ass. "My dear Thomas. Whatever has led you to believe I am civilized?" Loki's voice was still echoed by that dark power but his touch was feather light and his voice silky once more in his ear. Tom was instantly hard and refused to dwell on any possible implications of the idea that he was turned on by the thrill of silk and steel and my god, when had he turned so dramatic?
Tom had stopped protesting when Loki's tongue pushed into him, lifted his hips back and up with his thighs wide and let the god push him into a whimpering mess in the sheets. Tom liked being rimmed, though he hadn't known it before Loki pinned him down and flatly informed him that if he tried it, he'd like it. Tom had protested mightily the first thirty seconds, and then something twisted in his gut and he mewled as shivers drew down his spine and a flush turned his ears scarlet in the warm darkness. Since then it was Loki's choice as a reward or a bribe, and Tom felt, on nights like last time, it could maybe be an apology too but he wasn't about to venture quite that far or assume that level of rationale on that kind of madness. That night Loki had been... tender, in his own way but that shadow on his words and prickle on his skin that followed with every touch had impressed on him the keen awareness that Loki could rip him apart mid-fuck if he chose.
Tom's eyes opened, memories dropping away from him like a water balloon popped over his head as Loki thrust into him smoothly even as his teeth sank into Tom's shoulder. "...Unh... Loki," he tremored at the painpleasurepain of it and he felt a cough of laughter against his back.
"Yes, Thomas?" That voice rippled over him but that shadow of power wasn't there that night. It was there, but not in every touch, not in every thrust, and Tom refused to confess to wanting to feel it again and he stayed quiet for a few seconds before he arched and pulled off the godling's length, twisting in one smooth motion with a wince til he was sitting facing a very startled Loki who seemed to surprised to stop him. Then irritated. "Thomas," His voice lifted and Tom held up a firm hand.
"No. No, I know what you're doing," He accused, and an arching eyebrow reminded Tom of the glancing rage he knew Loki was capable of. And incapable of always controlling. There was a hum of that indescribable madness in that and Tom's mind flitted for a second before refocusing. "You're spoiling me-" Loki started to laugh but determined, the human pushed on. "You're spoiling me. For anyone else. You want nothing and nobody to compare to what you give me so you're spoiling it-" The laughter continued and Tom bit back the urge to hit him as he finally fell silent and Loki, despite his clear arousal, shook his head and backed off.
"You flatter yourself," he said archly, and Tom rolled his eyes, suddenly less turned on as he sprawled there on his back, hands folded behind his head.
"Well get on with it," he urged, and Loki's eyes, green agates glinting in the half-light, turned sharp enough to cut.
"...Get on with it?" There was a hum of that shadow, something in his eyes, something he could not touch but could touch him as a finger was drawn down his skin. Tom realized, suddenly, that Loki might not even hear it, or realize he was doing it and the thought of telling him about it paled and dried in his mouth. Loki, goaded and knowing it and yet angry for the very fact that Tom could get to him like that, grabbed Tom's ankle and dragged him down the bed, flipping him over even as Tom thrashed and fought to stay on his back.
The only reason to fight a supernatural being when they want you to lay on your stomach is to point out to them that it's worth risking getting hurt to make your point that you don't want it, he realized quickly but Loki obviously didn't care. This was the line that they frequently walked, with Tom pushing at the edges of that madness and Loki letting him push... to a point. Tom prompting some kind of reaction or action that Loki both could and could not control and Tom risking the backlash. It was a dance of skin on skin with the stakes so very high for Tom, and yet... Tom stopped thrashing suddenly, lying perfectly still beyond gasps for air, and slowly coiled around to look back into those slitted green eyes. He wasn't human, that was so infinitely clear sometimes.
"Why on my stomach?"
"Why not?"
"Because I want to look at you."
"You're looking at me right now," There was still fury in that voice and Tom's voice hardened, sharpened, added a twist of laughter in his voice and it came out a fair mimicry of Loki's. "Put me back," He snapped, and Loki just stared for one single, startled second that was so priceless that Tom might have laughed, if not for the unutterable satisfaction he knew was written on his face. Upon closer inspection, however Tom realized that he may have taken this too far and in such a situation when he already felt like a field mouse looking up at a hawk. Or maybe picked a bad time to-
Loki laughed softly, bending in and pushing Tom inexorably back into the bed with one cool hand. “You have teeth, little one,” there was no gentleness in that voice, but the whipcord fury that Tom had seen the fringes of had dissipated for the moment and he let out a slow, cautious breath. “Put them away,” Loki’s tongue traced his ear, sucked on the tip and then continued. “If you want to sound like me, Thomas, you must… not… fear.” Tom’s eyes narrowed at that advice and he twisted again, though this time the intent was to look, not to roll over. His own challenging gaze met Loki’s, watching those green eyes and knowing if there was any fear, it certainly wouldn’t be displayed but oh… he knew the fear. He knew the story, the childhood, the abandonment, the… he trailed off and frowned, just slightly as he realized Loki was very serenely watching him watch himself. “Ahh, there you have it,” pale lips curved and Tom realized that for all their lack of color, they were very kissable. Loki touched his chin with two fingers, lifting and tilting his head to look down into his eyes. “You see?” Loki whispered, echoes of power making every word nearly vibrate through Tom’s ears. “It’s not about what you say, now is it. It’s how you say it. It is what you hold behind it. It is the absolute… certainty… that you will be obeyed, you must be obeyed, or…” Tom didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Loki paused, their eyes meeting until Tom saw spots in his vision and Loki had held him spellbound, and oh.
“Or…” The word seeped out of the actor.
“Well.” Loki just smiled, “I’m sure your imagination can well fill in the imagery yourself, Thomas.” Those kisses continued down his neck but once more Tom wasn't paying attention until he felt a tongue in his ass and he gasped, startled out of his reverie and his body jolting forward sharply. "Thomas..." There was a slick warning in the sound of his name and Tom shuddered, whimpering and squirming and when three fingers pushed inside he knew the god...godling was losing patience with his inattention on the immediate moment. "L-Loki," he rolled his hips again and opened his eyes, focusing on every touch and skim of those hands.
"Maybe I should make you call me sir-" Tom could hear laughter in his voice, but then his hands were pinned over his head and thighs were spread wide, and Loki, delicate and brutal didn’t hesitate to thrust inside him with a swift snap of his hips.
“I told you not to-” Tom shut up and half-screamed with the next thrust, breath sobbing in his throat and his hands trying to wrench out of Loki’s grip.
“Oops.” Loki’s hips stilled, and that laughter was still there and that, that was the sound that could climb into your nightmares. Laughter that cracked as if some poor joke was made while every bone in your body was starting to warn you it was going to snap at any moment... that was the stuff of poor sleep. And then... then there was a tongue tracing his spine, kisses feather-soft and almost dainty as Loki smoothed his arms towards his wrists til the pain died away and Tom was pretty sure he was bleeding. He felt Loki twitch, both above him and inside him and sniff as he cocked his head and Loki, lean and catlike, gripped his hips with both hands to pull his ass high up in the air and back into his lap as Tom whimpered. Definitely bleeding, definitely painful, definitely-but those kisses. Loki was razor sharp even as he licked, kittenish, at his ears and pulled at his cock with one sure hand. "Pay attention, Thomas," He murmured, "You won't find me inside your head."
But Tom did, and he wondered if Loki, too, knew it was a lie even as he said it. He was in Tom's head, and on his skin even as he pulled on the clothing worn by the godling (Tom had made a few subtle suggestions to the costume designer and soon, his clothing was a precise replica of Loki's leather and steel). Loki had made some allusions to fucking him sometime right before he went on set, reeking of his seed and struggling not to limp, tasting Loki's mouth and Tom shivered as he remembered how stretched his skin felt from all that power that seemed to try fit underneath it at that kiss. No, if they were kissing again Tom did not want that citrus and honey, he wanted, he ached or the-another thrust drew his attention back and he felt his eyes wet at the pain of it. "Loki," he breathed, not sure how he was still hard and Loki pulled back an inch or two as he closed his eyes. "Please... please I need..."
"Tell me what you need, mortal," Loki purred, even as he stroked his length and Tom's eyes fought to close as he looked back at him, unashamed.
"Inside... not... not so hard..." Tom shuddered, let himself relax and stop the brave face he was putting on for the godling.
"Ahh... you silly little fool," Loki murmured, "To let yourself be so..." he didn't finish as he thrust in again, not so hard and with a gentle squeeze of his hand on his hip. Tom calmed for a moment, but it was just a moment as he felt Loki's need had not yet eased and his own body, unremarkable and homely by comparison to the Asgardian's, would need to serve Loki's purpose further yet. There was another snap of teeth and welling of blood, and then another, and another and nails broke his skin and Tom could feel the gasps of air, the bridling of his urges that Loki resorted to as he strove to stay within the confines of their agreement. It was a solemn one, though Tom knew Loki would not hesitate to breach it if he felt it served a purpose to do so. As of now, in this instant it did not and Tom... Tom trusted that this pain served a greater purpose and he reveled in the strength of the other's resolve to restrain for the time being. For the time being. He’d never call Loki unpredictable, merely that he did not know the godling well enough to see his patterns. There were certainly patterns to his behavior, and yet… there were times of lost control, times of an overwhelming, overpowering rage that maybe to someone like Thor was impotent and entertaining but to a mortal it was nearly certain death.
Finally the pain eased and Loki’s hips went from powerful, gut-wrenching thrusts to a slower pace that rolled through him, driving stars behind his eyes and spreading his thighs wider as Loki stretched him in ways he was still learning were even possible. “You… oh. I… oh my god,” the air seemed squeezed out of Tom’s lungs and choked out through his throat, and instead of full sentences, half-words and strangled little whimpers were barely making it out of the pillow he realized he was clutching. “Loki, Loki oh my… please…” He breathed, “Please, I… oh yes…” He shuddered helplessly as that hand, no longer cool but warm and firm with more experience than Tom could comprehend, stroked his cock ruthlessly til Tom was certain he was shouting and writhing beneath those strong hands. And then he stopped. Tom’s voice came out in a vaguely confused little “...hnnh?” There was laughter somewhere behind him again.
“Goodnight, Thomas,” Loki murmured, and there was a remarkably affectionate little kiss behind his ear and then… silence. Tom felt him withdraw, fingers tracing down his spine leaving one last, bloody little trail that made him arch and hiss but by the time he twisted to look, Loki had gone.
“Oh… you are a bastard,” Tom growled between pants for air, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling, fisting his cock til he came with a low cry and somewhere, somewhere he smelled citrus and honey.