Tom Hiddleston can't say that he's overly surprised when Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, appears at the end of his bed just as he's settling for the night. Loki has been a part of Tom's life for years and years; Tom considers him a sort of guardian angel, just with slightly morally questionable methods for keeping Tom safe and happy. And Tom was sure that Loki would be paying him another visit sooner or later. Loki had actually laughed (loudly, and for a number of minutes) when Tom had told him that he was auditioning for the part of Loki's brother, Thor, in the upcoming film adaptation of the Marvel comics, so Tom is curious and a little apprehensive for what Loki's reaction will be, now that he has been deemed wrong for Thor but perfect for the part of Loki himself.
Loki does not speak for a few minutes, electing to instead wander around Tom's room and use his magic to pick clothes up off the floor and send them over to the laundry basket, and also to knock things he doesn't like off Tom's shelves, including a couple of Thor graphic novels and a Derren Brown DVD.
"So, how did you find out?" Tom asks eventually, when he thinks he might fall asleep if he doesn't talk, so used to Loki's presence. Loki throws him a look.
"I read it on the internet," Loki drawls, "How do you think I found out, Tom? I knew the moment you did. I see everything you do."
"That's kind of creepy, and voyeuristic." Tom quips pleasantly.
"Trust me, Tom, I have never watched you have sex. I can't even remember the last time that was an option."
A blush rises on Tom's cheeks, but he doesn't let Loki phase him. He never has. He pats the space next to him on the double bed.
"You can sit down, if you like," he offers. Loki sighs dramatically, as though everything is such a great inconvenience, but does it anyway, facing the wall so that he has one cheek to Tom. "So what do you think? Of me playing you?"
"I'm not going to say I'm not a little sceptical," he says, "But obviously it was meant to happen. The Gods have reasons for us having been drawn to one another." He eyes Tom up and down. "You look absolutely wrong, of course."
"Alright, slow down," Tom replies, "I'll have a costume, and make up, and I'll have to dye my hair, and straightened it, and grow it." As he says this he yanks gently on Loki's long, thick ponytail, which flows down his back, "Though maybe not this long." Loki wriggles, and Tom takes his hand away. Loki turns so that he is facing Tom properly, and scoffs.
"Your body is all wrong," he says, "And I don't think that costume or make up will change that." Tom raises an eyebrow.
"All wrong? Why, what's wrong with it exactly?"
"You're too skinny," Loki says, his lip curling in distaste, one finger jabbing at the general area of Tom's ribs. Tom usually sleeps in pyjamas trousers and a vest top, but tonight he was too warm, so he's topless and something in his chest thrills at the probe of Loki's touch; he ignores it.
"Excuse me, have you any idea how much weight I put on to audition for Thor?" Tom says indignantly.
"That minuscule amount of muscle," Loki criticises, squeezing one of Tom's arms, "Doesn't change the fact that you're as thin as a pole."
"Well, that's good. Kenneth needs me thin." Tom replies defensively, "He wants Loki to look "lean and hungry", in physical contrast to Thor."
"Hungry!" Loki laughs, "I'm a God. I never knew hunger in my youth in Asgard, so to suggest I was any less nourished than my meat sack of a brother is ridiculous."
Tom sighs, and looks at Loki. Even behind the panels of armour and elaborately embroidered cloth, there's no denying that Loki's body is one of absolute strength. He is unlike Thor (who Tom has never met, only seen fleetingly on one of his admittances to Asgard), but he is still a solid wall of muscle and flesh, healthy and well-nourished.
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
Loki grins widely. He tugs the duvet away from Tom, and splays a single hand against Tom's flat stomach. The suddenness of his warm touch makes Tom tense up and have to catch his breath.
"I want you to eat."
"I do eat."
"I want you to eat more, Tom." Loki says gleefully, moving his face closer to Tom's, "What if I presented with you with a feast, of Asgardian standards? Would you eat of that fare?"
"Of course I would," Tom says, holding Loki's gaze, "I do enjoying eating, Loki, you know, I just don't put on weight easily-" Loki chuckles under his breath, Tom continues, "And if my director thinks I look right as I am, then you don't really have any say in the matter."
"I don't have say in the matter?" Loki smirks, "You really think so? You know, there have been many other moments in your life where I'm sure you thought something your own doing, when really I had quite a hand in it."
"I think I'd rather not know what you're referring to," Tom sighs exasperatedly, "Look, Loki-"
Loki's hands encircle Tom's narrow waist, and squeeze.
"Just try and put on a little weight. For me. For my honour when you represent me!"
"Loki, I told you, I don't easily-"
Loki grabs hold of Tom's wrist, smiling ecstatically.
"Come with me," he says, "Come to Asgard with me and you shall eat like the God you hope to mimic."
"Last time you took me to Asgard, I threw up on the Bifröst."
Loki winces at the memory.
"True. But I shall be gentler this time."
Tom looks at his trickster God, his twisted guardian angel, cocking his head and letting another sigh escape. He knows that for Loki, "no" is never an answer. If Tom resists, Loki will simply persist until he gives in. If Loki were mortal, Tom would consider their relationship to be unhealthy, perhaps even abusive: but it is more complex than that. Loki knows Tom in his entirety. He only ever teases and tempts Tom with something that, on some level, Tom already wants. Loki has felt Tom's thoughts, found the fantasies Tom has of being encouraged to eat, of being fed. In the frightening, fleeting moments when Tom has thought that Loki might be a symbol of his own going mad, he has pondered that he could be a manifestation of his id. But he's had too much proof of Loki's existence, and isn't scared of that anymore. He just knows that Loki knows what he wants, and can give it to him.
"Let me get dressed," he says eventually. From the look on his face, Tom can tell that if Loki were not a God above such things, he would have punched the air. When Tom is in his clothes, he holds out his arm to his companion. Loki takes it, and calls out,
"Heimdallr! Open the Bifröst!"
With a strange sensation around his body, Tom feels himself rushing upwards, shuts his eyes and grips Loki's arm until everything seems to have stopped spinning.
When Tom wakes, he feels as though he's slept for days. The first thing he's aware of is how intensely comfortable he is. He remembers having been brought back to the palace, and shown to Loki's chambers. where he had fallen asleep at once. He's in a bed larger than any he's seen, even in the most luxurious of hotels, big enough for multiple men his size, in its width and its length. At his height, it's actually a rarity to find a bed that he can stretch out in, so this one was Heaven to fall asleep in. The mattress is so soft and deep, the duvet thick and with a texture not dissimilar to velvet, but somehow more pleasant to the touch; it doesn't have a wrong way to rub. Tom stretches his limbs and sits up. He's in his underwear, and his clothes are folded over a golden chair, by an ornate dressing table and mirror. He gets to his feet and crosses to the mirror, scratching at the back of his head. As he dresses himself, he suddenly feels a sharp jab of hunger in his stomach, and then another. It's almost overwhelming, so he sinks down into the chair, rubbing at his abdomen. He can hear footsteps approaching the door, so gets to his feet. The doors open, and Loki enters the room, smiling. Tom smiles back.
"Hello," Loki says, "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes-" Tom replies, "But I'm so hungry..."
"Well, I'm not surprised, after the sleep you've had."
"How long was I asleep?" Tom asks, fascinated.
"Only a night of my time- but three or four of your days. Time differs between your realm and mine."
"Well, you might have warned me!" Tom complains, "I'm starving."
"That, Tom, was entirely the point. I hope you don't mind." It begins to sink in for Tom, and he can't stop the smile from spreading across his face.
"Oh." he say simply.
"How's your appetite?" Loki asks.
"Massive. I'm so hungry."
"Come with me," Loki says, holding out a hand. Tom takes it and is gladly lead to an adjoining room, where a table is laid as though for a banquet. Tom's eyes widen at the fare, and Loki gestures to a chaise lounge, inviting Tom to sit. With a click of his fingers, Loki has summoned a platter of meats from the table, and is holding it out to Tom.
"What is it?" Tom asks.
"You mightn't know the specific animals of my realm," Loki replies, "But generally, you won't encounter anything that doesn't taste like your Midgardian chicken, pork, ham, beef, lamb... Does that suit you?"
"That suits me perfectly," Tom confirms, eyeing the food. Loki sets himself down beside Tom, and holds out a wing of the meat. Tom takes it hungrily between his teeth, taking a big bite and moaning when he swallows from the intense burst of flavour in his mouth.
"More, Loki, please," he gasps, taking the piece from him and near-devouring it. Loki smiles and sits back, occasionally holding out a new piece between his pale fingers for Tom to eat. When the platter clears, Loki tosses it to the floor with a clatter. He raises his eyebrows, leaning into Tom's face as the human man leans back a little, panting, rubbing gingerly at his stomach.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Loki asks softly, curling his fingers around one side of Tom's face. Tom smiles, leaning his head against Loki's palm.
"Yes, I am," he replies, and then places his hand over Loki's own. Loki blinks, thrown off for just a second, then smirks.
"Are you enjoying... me?" he adds, in a low voice.
"Am I allowed to enjoy you?" Tom murmurs. "Isn't that some sort of narcissism?"
"If you believe us to be one and the same then I suppose that is rather narcissistic, but do you?"
"You intrigue me," Tom whispers, "But perhaps that's because we're so different."
Loki leans down and kisses Tom's lips firmly, his hands resting at his hips. Tom kisses back gladly, but soon breaks away to say,
"Loki… I'm still hungry."
"Of course, of course," Loki says softly.
Loki feeds Tom for what must be hours. Platter upon platter of meats, plaited breads with herbs, vegetables bathed in butter are cleared before they move onto sweet courses, little round cakes that separately taste to Tom of aniseed and maple and marzipan, red velvet cake with thick cream, every indulgent treat that Loki can offer. Tom alternates between eating, sleeping and being kissed, each brief, magic-aided nap allowing the food to settle so that he can continue to eat. He eventually feels as though he can eat no more, stuffed full, and pushes Loki's proffering hands away.
"Please, please, stop…" he moans, stretched out on the ornate chaise longue, feeling like his body is being pulled down in the plush, velvet cushioning. Loki is sitting at his feet, looming over him, grinning wickedly.
"But Thomas, you're not full yet," Loki taunts, curling a single finger underneath Tom's chin, making him shudder with pleasure at the touch. Loki leans over him, putting his lips close to Tom's ear. "Where is your appetite, Tom? The quantity you've eaten is pitiful- it is but a mere fraction of what I could eat myself."
"I'm only-- human," Tom gasps, "You are a God."
"What was that?" Loki demands.
"You are a God, Loki-"
"A God?" he repeats.
"My God, you're my God, oh powerful Loki."
"Yes," Loki agrees, his breath warm on the edge of Tom's ear, "And you will do what I say."
"Yes," Tom murmurs. Loki waves his hand, and a decorated, hexagonal-shaped silver box appears on his lap. He undoes the clasp and opens it, revealing a number of chocolates, arranged in three circles, decreasing in size. He picks one up between his finger and thumb, and holds it out to Tom's mouth. The outside layer of chocolate begins to melt as soon as it brushes Tom's warm lips, which are still shut.
"Come on," Loki persuades, his tone gentler now, "The both of us know that you want this."
"I do," Tom says quietly.
"Then eat," Loki says, "Indulge." Tom allows Loki to put the chocolate into his mouth. He sucks slowly, making the chocolate coating and truffle underneath melt away, and then bites down hard on the almond in the centre, before swallowing. Loki rewards him with a kiss, hard and passionate, his tongue in Tom's mouth, tasting the lingering chocolate. He pulls back very suddenly, leaving Tom leaning up towards him, clamouring for Loki's lips.
"More," Tom says in a breathy moan.
"Food, or kisses?" Loki smirks.
"Well, I'm sure whichever I want, you'll give me the other," Tom pants, smiling. Loki laughs at that.
"Perhaps you know me better than I might have thought," he says.
"Of course I do," Tom replies, "The amount of mythology I read to understand you, Loki."
There is a pause. The room is incredibly warm, but it feels good. Slowly, Loki feeds Tom more of the chocolates, which he takes willingly, placidly. Loki's eyes flicker over Tom's body, sprawled invitingly in front of him. He places the box on the floor with a quiet click of metal against stone, then looks at Tom, who is looking back at him through half-closed eyes.
"Can you read my mind?" Tom asks quietly.
"If I so please," Loki replies, "Why do you ask?"
"Because specifying what I want is too much effort…" Tom says, his voice just as lazy. Loki looks inside Tom's mind, and then grins, and murmurs,
"As you wish…"
Loki straddles Tom, then holds out both of his hands, with their long, pale fingers, and places them upon Tom's shoulders. He trails his hands down Tom's chest, undoing buttons deftly as he goes. He slips one hand inside Tom's shirt, rubbing across his collarbone and warm skin, teasing one nipple and making Tom bite his lip to suppress the noise he wants to make. Loki undoes the shirt completely, opening it to expose Tom's skin to the hot air of the room. Loki looks gleefully at Tom's stomach. It's round and swollen, full with Loki's rich offerings. Loki's fingers dance across the sensitive skin, before he presses his thumb down hard, just below Tom's belly button. He moans, his hips bucking as though in a spasm beneath Loki's thighs.
"How does that feel?" Loki asks in a low voice.
"I'm so full…" Tom mutters.
"Rub my stomach, make it better-" Tom begs. Loki spreads his fingers against the underside of Tom's tummy, then runs his hand up over the curve, pressing down ever so gently. Tom inhales sharply at the sensation, his own hands grasping the sides of where he lies. Loki rubs Tom's stomach evenly, dextrously, occasionally dipping his head to lay a kiss to the curve. Tom smiles, utterly relaxed and sated, one hand messing Loki's long hair. Loki continues to rub Tom's full belly until the midgardian has almost fallen asleep.
"Sleep, Tom," Loki murmurs soothingly, "Tomorrow, you will feast again."
"M'not gonna put on weight," Tom mumbles stubbornly, his eyes closed.
"Whatever you say, Tom, whatever you say," Loki smirks.
"It doesn't fit, you troll," Tom complains, when he sees in the mirror Loki appearing behind him.
"What did you call me?" Loki says incredulously.
"It has a new midgardian meaning. It means someone who tricks and teases you."
"Hm. That sounds appropriate. But there are certainly many things I'd rather be called."
"Whatever I call you, this costume doesn't fit and it's your fault."
"Oh hold still, you silly child," Loki tuts. He puts both of his hands on Tom's waist, where the fabric won't meet; he says something in Norse and Tom feels Loki's hands grow hot, and suddenly the costume is fastened. Tom looks down at himself, then suspiciously at Loki.
"What have you done? Have you changed me, or the costume? Or is it just an illusion?"
"It matters not, all that matters is that your (ridiculous, cheap) costume fits over your behind." He grins, and smacks Tom's arse through the leather. Tom turns around, so that his face is only a couple of inches away from Loki's.
"Can anyone hear you? People will talk if they hear a strange man's voice coming from my trailer, but only see me coming out."
"No, they can't hear me, only you."
"Great! So now I'm crazy as well as fat!"
Loki puts both of his hands on Tom's stomach. It is definitely a little bigger, more solid, packed tight over the muscle underneath. If Loki were to punch Tom in the stomach- which he isn't particularly inclined to do- he would meet strength, resistance.
"You are not fat. You now share the body of a God. And if you dare make any sort of stupid joke about Buddha, you insult me as well as yourself."
Tom takes the opportunity to kiss Loki, hard, taking hold of his hips. Loki keeps his palms spread against Tom's tummy. Just as the kiss is growing deeper, more passionate, Tom hears someone calling his name outside the trailer, and pulls away.
"I have to go," he says, "Thank you, for the help with the costume."
"Ahem," Loki says dryly.
"Alright, and with my body. Happy? Now piss off, I have to go and pretend to be you."
"You look like a leather kink gone wrong," Loki quips helpfully.
"You have a nice day too," Tom replies, "You're coming to my house later and making me dinner."
"As you wish," Loki replies as he disappears.