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"I think that we should definitely escape now," Loki said, regarding the prison in which they were--hopefully very temporarily--stuck. He suspected that when their jailors returned, they would have more unpleasant questions, which their treatment so far had not left Loki in the mood to answer.
"No, do you think?" Strange said. "Actually, I was planning to live here." He paced the cell, examining the twisted shapes of the cell bars without touching them.
"If that's your idea of a good time." The malignant mystical energy that radiated through the bars of the cell made Loki's teeth itch. He wasn't keen on the idea of touching them himself, but he also wasn't keen on the idea of making this cell his permanent residence. All Strange’s efforts to open a portal so far had only twisted the bars into more unpleasant shapes.
Loki reached out experimentally to grasp twisted metal, murmuring a charm that should have let him neatly exchange his position inside the bars with one outside them. The immediate pain felt like his hand was trying to turn itself inside out instead, and he hissed and snatched his fingers back.
"I wouldn't," Strange said absently while Loki was still nursing his throbbing hand.
"Tell me you have a better idea."
"Almost anything would be a better idea than that, wouldn't you think?"
"I can think of worse ideas," Loki said.
"Actually, I suspect you can. Please don't."
"You need a spell of opening."
Strange raised an eyebrow. " I need?"
"You're the Sorcerer Supreme, aren't you? I have full faith in your ability to get us out of this predicament."
"I am immediately suspicious about what you might want."
"I have an idea," Loki said. "But if you have all this perfectly under control and aren't interested, I'll just sit back while you work it all out. Try not to touch the bars, they don't like it."
A muscle in Strange's jaw twitched, which Loki found entertaining. "What's the idea?"
"I happen to know a spell of opening. It has certain inconvenient requirements."
"You can't make a blood sacrifice of me to get the power to get out of here," Strange said. "If you were wondering whether that was on the table."
"Nothing that drastic. But I would need to borrow a considerable amount of your energy for me to make this work, and by far the easiest way is for me to fuck you."
"Pick a different way," Strange said.
"I could use a quantity of your blood, but I think we covered that," Loki said. "Or I could bind you in some considerably more permanent way. You could swear to three promises of my choosing. Or let me leave a scar on you, but then we'd have to wait for it to scar, and that would probably be after the unpleasant people come back and hurt us some more."
There was a pause. Strange let out a huff of breath. "Fine," he said.
"Is that all the protesting you're going to do, then? I had expected more."
"You're right that it's the strongest binding that won't be permanent. I don't have a better idea. How do you want to do this?" His tone was dry, as if he intended to take only the mildest interest in the proceedings.
"Quickly," Loki said. "I expect you have something to write with." Strange produced chalk, and Loki used it to chalk a frankly phallic shape on the cell floor. "Take your breeches off and kneel inside the chalk."
Strange obeyed, but with an expression that suggested that he didn't particularly like kneeling, and also that he wasn't entirely unmoved. Under other circumstances, that would have been entertaining to explore. Strange shrugged off the cloak, and it curled around his knees like a snake.
"Is it joining us?" Loki asked, unsure how he felt about the cloak as a third participant.
"I'm not leaving it behind," Strange said.
"Very well, then." He tried to find the proper frame of mind for the enchantment. Honestly he had to admit this might have been better the other way around, so that all he had to do was endure and react. A binding, he told himself, and knelt behind Strange, unfastening his breeches with one hand and taking hold of Strange's hair with the other.
"I don't particularly enjoy being hurt," Strange said, as if providing an uninteresting factual detail about himself.
"The point isn't to hurt you," Loki said.
"It's to master me."
"Is that worse than being hurt?"
"No," Strange said. "Harder, possibly."
A third truth would make a bond, fragile, but still providing a thread of power of its own. That couldn't hurt. He ran his hand down Strange's shirt front until he found bare skin, and found Strange already hard. He closed his hand around the man's phallus and stroked it.
"You're going to enjoy this," Loki said, his lips against Strange's throat.
"I won't," Strange said, tilting his head back and thrusting into Loki's hand.
"Tell the truth, if you want to bind me with it."
"Yes, I will," Strange said through gritted teeth, and Loki felt the first threads of connection solidify between them. His own arousal was abruptly more urgent, and he barely had the presence of mind to work a trivial charm to ensure sufficient lubrication before he thrust himself inside. Strange made a strangled noise and then said, "You could have warned me."
"Terribly sorry," Loki said insincerely. "Do you need a minute?"
"Yes, actually," Strange said, and breathed deeply, his tensed body slowly relaxing. Loki could feel his own breathing falling into the same rhythm. It made him urgently want to move his hips, but he restrained himself until Strange said, finally, "And it's been a minute."
Loki reached for Strange's thighs to spread them, pulling Strange back against him with each thrust. It felt insanely, absurdly good, and although he knew that was a result of the magic crackling between them, it was still hard to keep his head. If he surrendered to the wild energy and lost himself in rutting like an animal, they'd both probably still be here when their jailors came back, and not in a position he'd like to be found in. "Touch yourself," he said, a little hoarsely.
"Shouldn't you be the one to do that?" Strange said, arching back against him with a desperation that belied his ironic tone.
"You aren't actually in charge right now," Loki reminded him.
"I told you that was the hardest," Strange said, and reached for his own cock. He stroked it, matching Loki’s rhythm rather than trying to set one of his own.
“You don’t have to give me your power,” Loki said. “I’m going to take it.” He suspected that he did, in fact, need for Strange not to resist in order for the spell to work, but he wasn’t resisting. He was arching back against Loki to meet his thrusts, breathing in harsh rhythmic gasps, working himself with one visibly shaking hand.
The power was mounting between them, and Strange reached out his other hand, spreading shaking fingers in an instinctive impulse to gather the threads of power and make them answer his will.
“No,” Loki insisted, and shook Strange by the back of the collar. Strange’s head went back, and he let his hand fall. The power built with every thrust of Loki’s hips, pounding like a drum beat. He waited until he was sure it would answer him, until the drum beat was the rhythm of his own thundering heart, and then said, desperately, “Now.”
Strange groaned and threw his head back harder, working himself feverishly. Loki thrust one final time, and felt the climax overcome him just as Strange spilled his seed in a milky jet across the stones. The power cracked like a whip, and he drove it into the chalk shape, willing it to open.
It did, tipping them both down into empty space. Loki felt lines of force whip around his neck, grappling him close, at the same time that the cloak tangled itself around his feet.
He and Strange landed in a painful heap somewhere grassy and sunlit. He felt that he’d cope with the question of where they were and how they planned to leave when he’d quite caught his breath. His heart was still pounding, sweat beading on his skin. Beside him, Strange had flopped back into the grass and was sprawling, breathing hard.
“You could have trusted that I'd take you with me,” Loki said, kicking his feet free of the cloak and shrugging off Strange’s binding with an effort.
“I’m not a very trusting person,” Strange said. He looked about for his breeches, which the cloak helpfully unrolled itself to produce, and dressed with admirable dignity under the circumstances. “Let’s find some more normal means of transportation from here on out, shall we?”
“Spoil-sport,” Loki said, and looked around to see where they might go next.