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He was dressed up, the lights were dim and what was he doing there? He had just met the queen of Asgard, who wanted to know Thor’s midgardian shield-brothers, and she suddenly blacked out and told him his life was going to change, because Yggdrasil had told her, whatever that meant. He didn’t believe in prophecies, he didn’t want his life to take a turn again - it was always against him, for the worst, and what was he doing there, again?
A normal person would ignore the message, or perhaps would take it into consideration and start revaluating things in their lives, searching for change from then on, not believing in coincidences or entropy.
But not the last Stark alive on Earth. No, this one would obsess about it until he tinkered all of his inventions ‘til exhaustion, and then would pass out on alcohol, just to stop his unstoppable thoughts, racing through his head as if he was a racetrack and his ideas suicidal vehicles, and the sound was too loud, the air too hot, and what was he doing there, for God’s sake?
He should be home. He should be home, trying to fix for the hundredth time his failed relationship with Pepper (because Tony Stark didn’t like not being able to fix something, he didn’t like definitiveness, he didn’t like anything that couldn’t be twisted to his favor and, hidden inside his dark distorted thoughts, because she was all he ever had , and he didn’t know how (or want to know, for that matter) how to let go , or tinkering his new inventions, or drinking his good booze instead of that crap they served in that club. So, why was he there, after all?
He didn’t know. He knew he needed a distraction from himself, for the monster growing inside of him, trying to consume everything that resembled a light, life, work, creativity, hope , he needed to stop thinking or he was going to be mad. Like, real mad. He was so trapped into his own head he didn’t even hear people talking to him, around him. He forgot he was in the middle of a phone call and would sleep walk somewhere, waking up without memories of how he got there, even without drinking a drop of alcohol .
Tony Stark was finally going to that mind place everyone feared he would go someday, where genius and madness would converge into an explosion that would create a black hole and consume him entirely, until there was nothing but his empty shell, his soul trapped under the fear rubble eternally, or his ashes on the ground, death . Fury always told him he would end up killing himself, or being villain - it was his excuse to try to have control over his suits - and he saw the looks people threw at him after watching him babble alone and forget things said a moment before. He just couldn’t believe he would end up as mere ashes. But it was better than to die without shining.
So, he went out. He went out because it was what normal people did. The night was warm and clear, moon shining from above, but normal people would have fun too, wouldn’t they? Or it wasn’t just him sitting alone and drinking on a bar, immersed in his own thoughts. There wasn’t anyone else still there, everybody talking or dancing or kissing or grabbing or caressing and why was he there if he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy, if he knew his friends wouldn’t be there and he would have no one to talk to?
Before Afghanistan he would talk to everybody and pay drinks and grab and kiss and, fuck , what was he doing in there? Those girls looked like twenty one, but he wouldn’t know for sure, anymore. A while ago he would, however. What happened? How did he end up there? Drinking alone at night, not having fun, remembering parts of him he lost to terrorists and voids and fear and terror , parts of him that died and wouldn’t come back, parts that left a gap he just couldn’t fill with anything (he would know, he fucking tried everything, from bonsai-growing to being fucked into oblivion. Nothing happened, nothing helped), and his glass was empty and why? Why?
But Frigga told him his life would change and he was terrified and anxious and restless all the damn time and he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t remember why , and he was there, sitting still, watching wet bodies glide towards others, hands slipping just a tad lower or higher than they should, but no one objected, no one said a thing. No one was talking to him. He still looked good, he knew, even if he had to put some concealer on (the thing was already melting, he knew it), he didn’t know what he was doing wrong but to breath the steamy, asphyxiating foggy air around him, and sip his drink, that was empty. Again. He didn’t remember drinking it.
Maybe he should go home.
Maybe he should give up.
Maybe he should give up hoping for anything to save him.
But then it was there, a silhouette, a shirtless man coming to him. The way he moved was hypnotizing, his swinging as if he wanted everybody to want to fuck him (he probably did , anyway), and sat with his black pants and long black hair just beside him, his right leg touching Tony’s left one and his stomach churned with something hot and afraid, and are you the reason I’m here?
But the universe was still spinning, stars still shinning, while the man put his arm on the backrest of his stool, carefully avoiding to touch him, but leaning just so. The playboy fidgeted, almost reaching the “shy” category (a playboy, read me right ), the man asked for a mojito ( sweetLimeSharpFreshMint, it meant goodTastegoodBreath, is he trying to say he’ll kiss me? Is he trying to tempt me into kissing him? Is he ?) and looked to the man beside him, smooth skin and lean muscles, a small trail of hair from his bellybutton to the waistband of his pants, sweat making everything edible ( his tongue itched, his hands twitched, he was afraid he was going to break his glass) but the eyes…
...they were too green.
Of course the universe would spit in his face again. From all the eight million people living in New York - people he could fuck and be fucked by, people he could take home and lick and kiss without an ounce of shame or regret - sitting beside him was the same man ( God, was there any Gods, really? Why didn’t they answer to his prayers, then? ) who threw him out of his window and twirled with his life thread onto his finger, as if he was entitled to, again ( they all presumed they were. That’s why he killed them. ).
But Loki wasn’t looking particularly murderous sipping his Mexican mojito and leaning his ( beautiful ) sweaty body against Tony slowly, as if he wouldn’t notice the approximation ( as if he wasn’t feeling it in his bones , wired like a broken light pole, arc reactor chiming with fear and please , stay with me ) as if he wouldn’t notice how warm he felt or how good he smelled. He didn’t smell so good last time, did he? He couldn’t be sure. All he remembered was falling.
His mind was doing those little confusing backflips again and he was getting dizzy by the lack of oxygen and from inhaling smoke , and in neon lights his head was trying to reach him and say why are you fucking doing out there, you crazy fucker?
But when he made the decision and stood up to leave, cold hands grabbed his drink and put it back on the wooden bar, and guided him towards the wet crowd who danced into hues of pink, purple and blue, deafening sound and Loki was walking half-naked straight ahead with his fingers intertwined with his as if it was the most normal thing on earth ( his fingers were long and soft and Tony couldn’t wait to have them on him, inside of him already ) and he was dizzy, he was so dizzy from anxiety because what, what was he doing there ?
Then Loki found the right spot, tight against every other moving person in the room, almost in the middle of the dance floor, and turned around, smirking lips, smirking eyes, and threw his arms and head up , hips starting to move on rhythm with the unknown dubstep trip hop blazing from the big black speakers, his chest brushing the inventor’s shirt and making it move against his skin, making everything even hotter, more breathless than it was before. And he was choking, he was swallowing his tongue and having a hard time breathing, as was everyone around Loki, because he suddenly became the center of the whole cosmos, lips curving with the intensity of rivers, arms rising the very sun , hair blowing up as if the winds were trying to gift him with everything they had, every secret of the universe written into those green irises that, like a panther, were trying to devour him whole .
And he twisted his limbs on a magic dance, smiling like he knew everything going on inside his fucking head , and put his own hands on Tony’s hips, pressing him closer, to the point he had no option but to move to, following the lead of those strong lips and he whished he couldn’t feel the man’s cock, was it too much to ask? (It is, it is, the universe has you where it wants you, don’t you feel it? ). But his dick was there, long and thick and warm, and Tony was swaying his hips with the music and blushing a little, because even if he everybody was doing it too, it didn’t mean he was entirely comfortable with a situation where he was practically humping against the God of Mischief and Chaos’s cock, and getting aroused too, wasn’t him? What was he doing there? He should be home. He should never had left the easy comfort of his bed. He should be in bed right now, alone , for fuck’s sake, and not thinking how Loki would look good right above him, with his cock up the billionaire’s ass, filling him, cheeks flushed like they were in there ( it’s the heat. It’s only the heat. Yeah , Tony , keep hoping . ), and doing that exact same thing he was doing with his tongue on Tony’s jaw and neck and oh, God, please, please, don’t let him go yet, don’t let him fucking go yet. )
Tony shuddered, shivered, and Loki chuckled - not of him, but in a strangely fond way of someone who didn’t wanted to throw him back out of his window, at least. But the human’s legs felt like jelly and Loki’s arms were quickly the only thing supporting him from a humiliating fall. The way he lead him to the red door bathroom that came right after would be normal if this wasn’t Loki and Tony Stark talking. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to the godling when his lips were so close, a balm to his madness at arms reach, like Romeo and Juliet exchanging sins through kisses, perhaps he could transfer some of his insanity into someone who could bear it without bursting, someone like Loki , and then his thoughts were wiped because his back was against the cold wall of a bathroom stall and what am I fucking doing here, whywhy why?
He was already starting to lose it again when his fly was opened, right where everybody could look ( but no one would care ), and anxiety popped in his chest like a bubble, staining everything, and it was too much, too much, toomuch and he's sure he will burst too, he's sure he will burst too, he's sure-
He wasn't sure of anything anymore. His mind was blank, sharp, and suddenly everything was now, present, insanely there, Loki's smell, his taste against Tony's lips ( he gasped, he gasped , are you sure he is who he is? Are you sure I did it? I didn't know I could. ), his cool hands against the sensitive skin of the nape of his neck, the way his fingers gripped and tugged his hair unintentionally, just a way of him to say keep going, I need this too, tongue against tongue sliding, pure and wet and filthy, nature in its primal, untouched state, all grunts and little whimpers that should be embarrassing, he knew it, but couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't care anymore, and it was so good. No shame, no guilt, no urgency to do anything else than to follow his own body needs, nothing to think or tinker about, because Loki was as broken as himself, and those sharp edges simply fit together like the universe molded them that way ( now you're getting it. ), and he's sure Loki noticed it too, sure Loki felt the same way he did because he was melting and huh.
Huh.
His eyes narrowed, watching speechlessly with a single minded wish while Loki undid the buttons of the mortal's shirt, and he wasn't mistaken, these fingers are shaking, this breath is hitching, that neck is flushed, and Loki, I need you.
Please.
He's not sure if he said it out loud - wasn't sure he wanted to know, anyway - but Loki answered to his prayers and got to his knees, struggling but managing to work Tony's cock way out of his pants without opening the button (the floor was wet where Tony was standing and he was grateful for Loki being able to see it, because he couldn't. He was grateful for Loki. Wonderful, there it is, what else are you trying to hide? ). The green eyed looked right into Tony's eyes and it was a thunderstorm and a tornado and a volcano and it was destroying him, it was destroying the both of them with that question stumbling into their minds all the time ( are you sure? are you? because I'm not. )
But Tony was, so, he took Loki away from his trail of thought by pushing his cock gently against the other's tongue, earning a moan from him. He didn't gag Loki, he didn't want to fuck him raw. He didn't want to harm him in any way, no way, because it was a risk, a risk to lose the attention of the one person who could sweep him off his feet and away from his troubled mind to a place where that was only need and everything was so simple like that and why didn't I do it before? Why?
What the hell am I doing?
"Fuck me." He asked, demanded, pleaded, begged in the middle of the blowjob, and Loki looked up, as if saying but you haven't come yet, but Tony didn't care, he didn't, because it wasn't the pleasure, it was the nearness, the proximity , those green eyes fixed on him and blurring every other image his eyes caught, the acid flavor of his sweat and all this attention focused on him, only him, it was too much and intoxicating, it was venomous and it was everything he needed . Everything.
He pulled Loki up against his obvious resistance, grunting, and cupped his face to glue their foreheads together, panting, licking the other's lips as if he needed the taste to remain. He really did. "Come on, Loki, fuck me. I need to feel you, I need you to fuck me, I need- " Before Tony could regret saying you Loki stopped him with a fervent kiss, ravishing and worshipping his mouth at the same tongue swipe, making him tremble ( he needs you, too. Can't you see? ).
The God made it very evident he wasn't human when he took Tony's pants and briefs off, hanging it up on the stall's open door, and grabbed him by the tights, suspending him from the floor with his body between his legs and thank you, God, I'm getting fucked tonight.
His fingers played with his hole a little before he gave up and used magic, cursing impatiently in another language, Tony didn't care for pain, but Loki did, and maybe he didn't want to damage Tony just like he didn't want to harm Loki too. ("Loki, Loki, inmeinme inme -") He did prepare him, but when he ended it all up, he could just slip in with no resistance at all, but the warm tightness surround him. Perfect, that must be perfection, because suddenly Tony wasn't in control of his body anymore, and it was arching, moaning and twitching unwillingly, unknowingly, and he didn't care. He didn't. He just wanted Loki to keep moving, he just wanted to keep his eyes closed to keep feeling and seeing this nebulae in every beautiful shade it had behind his eyes, floating there like it belonged, like it was there all the time but the only one that was able to bring it to life was Loki, who was bit by bit losing control in and around him.
So, Tony smiled lazily and swept his hair from his forehead, kissing it, he wrapped his legs and arms around him like he was his soul's torch, and he tightened his muscles at unexpected times, biting his collarbone, enjoying the sight of making him come undone.
He was full and filled because Loki occupied every room vacant inside his being, and he didn't want to say no, because, for a moment, he was happy.
( You didn't think it would be so simple, did you? Did you think I forgot you, Tony? Because I didn't. He's your gift. It's only for you. )
His back is against the cold wall again and his hands are being held above his head, Loki's fingers laced with his, and his nose buries itself on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, he's loosing it, Tony. He is. Why can't you believe it?
( He knows it too, you know? He knows he's damaged for everybody else. He knows, when you die, he will die too, and bring the world to burn in tears with him. He knows.)
Outside that bathroom cabin there was a world blinking, there was a night fading, there was time streaming as if it was water or sand, burning like it was a little matchstick , people dancing and eating, sleeping and making love, killing and breathing, but it didn't matter, cause somehow the world resumed itself to fit the non-existent space between their bodies, the small huff of breath they got in while they kissed, the thin layer of molecules between Loki's thick prick and the walls of Tony's entrance. And it was there. It was right. The way space dust swirled around their thoughts, blessing it, and welcoming the sparkles the friction left behind.
( He's been searching for you all this time. A millennia with this emptiness inside of him, and you weren't even born yet. And then what? Can you see it? He's yours, he is yours, and you can't stop him from falling. You can't stop yourself from following. You belong down there. )
Tony was feeling hard thrusts ( and welcoming it, really. ), but when he opened his eyes, he saw the surface of Loki's look wavering. He saw the uncertainty there, the hesitation, a little softness in there that he haven't seen before. He chuckles lightly and smiles, he reaches out with both hands and take it , and the immortal, from his millennia of experience, obviously couldn't figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with it.
"Come, Loki." Tony asked sweetly, caressing his cheek with his rough, calloused hand ( he wished it was smooth, so it wasn't hard on Loki ), and insists, "Come inside of me. I want to feel you."
He lost his composure and his control then and there, panting and moaning and grunting like he couldn't, by the Norns, wait another second for it. So he does.
Tony never saw something so beautiful before.
Loki stays still for an eternity, but Tony didn't care. When he slipped out of him, he let Tony's legs go, but supported him wisely with his arms. And then his finger was spreading the pre-come from his slit, and that finger was on his tongue, tasting him.
"I would have liked to suck you." He said, thumb still on his mouth. "I would have, if you were not so eager. " The mortal chuckled at that. "Why are you laughing?"
"You just offered to kneel for me." He chuckled again at Loki's eyes rolling. "No, seriously. It hits home, you know."
"You are utterly stupid and debauched, Stark." He said, observing the man. "But, right now, I don not trust myself to give you anything but my hands. As retribution for your pliancy." He half mocked, half thanked. Tony laughed again, cause no one ever thanked him for sex.
"I want to negotiate that." He said. His erection wasn't bothering him. He was satisfied, mind calm as a lake, and he didn't really need anything else.
Loki's brow arched. "Proceed." He wiped his hands on his pants.
"I want we to do it all again." He told him, smiling. "I don't even need to come every single time - hell, if I come a third of the time it's already awesome - but I want we to do it again." He breathed. "Many times."
Loki pondered, a little startled, trying to hold his composure. "If you do not demand to find pleasure every time we do this, then, what do you get from it?" He asked, but he already knew. So, Tony just smiled.
You. Youyouyouyouyou you -
"Let's keep it my problem, ok?" Tony answered. "Is this deal satisfactory to you?"
The green-eyed, still with a feet behind him, still with his head trying to find a reason, took the chance. " Yes ."
Mineminemine mine. Mine.
( He wanted to consume that man. But they had time. He wasn't in a hurry. )
Tony wrapped his arms around Loki's neck. "Now, could you take me home? I'm not saying this wasn't awesome, but my back is literally aching for a soft mattress." He said.
A moment later they were on Tony's bed.
"That was... that was really awesome, really. It would make my life so much easier if I knew how to do it. I would never put my feet on a plain again." He praised.
He didn't notice the way Loki fidgeted on his bed until he looked and heard the silent am I supposed to be here? It is your bed. Too intimate.
"Are you going to stick around?" He asked directly, then. Like taking off a Band-Aid.
( As if it was that easy. )
Loki hummed. "I think I will." He breathed, relaxing. "Your bed is more comfortable than mine." It was his excuse. But, really, now Tony wanted to know where he was living, what was he doing ( scheming ) on Earth, if he will continue on doing that, what was he doing on that club and there on.
"You thought it would be fun to fuck me under Thor's nose, didn't you?" Tony concluded.
Loki chuckled. " Yes. " Was the answer. "But I think I would like to extend our time together, like you proposed, now. That means we have to keep secrecy." He warned.
"Honey, my whole life is made of secrets." He turned to face him. "I know how to be discrete. Don't worry."
Then the lights were dimmed and Tony turned around, hoping and winning, for the first time, when the other male turned and kind of spooned him. Without asking if it was ok. Without asking for permission. Because, from the way Tony was tense then and relaxed, melted, now, he already gathered the truth. It was more than ok.
And Tony didn't really want to think about all the facts (Loki caused death, Loki almost killed him, Loki tried to dominate Earth, Loki could still murder him within the bat of an eyelash) surrounding the whole situation (he would be a traitor, he would be casted out, he would be arrested and his suits would be used to kill again, he was sure ) because it would trouble the peace the storm that Loki is brought him, and he could not go back to the dark again, not again.
So, Tony closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, because he still couldn't tell what on Earth he was doing there, but now it was different. Now it was ok. Because he didn't know where it would end, really, and didn't really want to think about it now. But, well. The start was really good, so, why not?
"I can hear you thinking, Stark." Loki mumbled, a hand thrown on his waist. "Go to sleep."
Tony chuckled and went back to sleep.
( You asked. You begged. I delivered it. Your salvation is here, Tony. Don't let it slip. )
Just keep on praying.
___