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Body and Soul

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Tony's busy being thrown out of a window. He has his face full of enraged Asgardian, who also happens to be clutching his throat. He's shouting at Jarvis, watching out for the deployment of his suit, when Loki growls into his ear, “You will all kneel.

What Tony doesn't see is the man's eyes brightening with a sharp, green flash of light, and his lips spreading in a mischievous grin.


Tony Stark doesn't sleep. At least, not until he absolutely has to. Although he stopped counting the espressos 13 cups ago, Jarvis keeps a neat little total somewhere in the corner of some remote screen; a protocol established after the last time Tony had caffeine induced hallucinations. The workshop is bright where it needs to be, the very air itself reverberating with loud music. Lights are illuminating the engine he's pulled out of his new convertible. He's stripped it down and laid it bare, rebuilding it to his own preference. It's not arrogance, really, he thinks to himself. He finds a simple sort of comfort in tinkering, in taking apart and improving; and more importantly, avoiding sleep until he can pass out dreamlessly.

Dummy's prodding at his elbow.

“Hey,” Tony says, as if chiding a misbehaving pet, “would you stop that, this is actually really delicate-”

Come to me.

The voice rings clear and crisp in his ear, and he flinches, looking to his side.

“Mute,” he whispers, and the orgasmic cries of Robert Plant quiet immediately. “Jarvis, how many people are there on this floor?”

“Only you and Ms Summers, sir,” Jarvis says.


“The masseuse.”

“Oh,” Tony says, then frowning a little, adds, “send her home, will you.”

“Certainly, sir.”

With the music gone and the last shot of espresso wearing off, he can feel exhaustion creep into his body. He's light headed, the lights seeming brighter than they were before. There's a quiet moan, as if coming from the other side of the room.


“That's not good,” he comments to himself, throwing the cloth on the tabletop and standing up, Dummy's joints whirring as he follows Tony's movements. “Sleep tight,” he says, petting it lightly. The little bot powers down.

He makes his way into the bedroom, pulling off his shirt somewhere along the way. His body's flushed hot and his pulse is racing, and for a fleeting moment he wonders if he should cut down on the espresso. He dismisses the very idea with a scoff.

He removes the rest of his clothes, leaving them strewn all about, and falls face first into the bed. He faintly registers the sheets being drawn over him before he drifts away.

He dreams of wet lips and green eyes. There's that voice again, whispering devious, filthy ideas into his mind. His body is burning red hot, arousal tearing at him, but he's still cold to his core. He starts as he feels a gentle touch to his exposed skin. There's a small, comforting smile on his lips as he leans over Tony, catching his bottom lip in a short, warm kiss.

“Whu-” Tony sighs incoherently, the question slipping away as Loki cradles his head in his hand and kisses him again, deeper, his tongue sliding into his mouth, sending shivers down his spine.

“Hush,” Loki smiles and Tony gives a slight moan as Loki presses his body against Tony's. “Come to me.”

Tony's hand comes up to rest on Loki's hip, and they're kissing again; short, increasingly desperate kisses, heat rising between them. Tony is hard, instinctively spreading his legs, arching his body into Loki's, impatient for contact, for attention. Loki gives a deep laugh into his mouth, his hand falling between them. Taking them both in his palm, he gives a lengthy twist of his wrist, Tony's mouth falling open in pleasure.

Tony thrusts into his grip, relishing the slide of skin against skin and the dexterity of the long fingers. Loki mouths at his neck, licking a long wet stripe up his neck.

“Do you want me?” Loki whispers into Tony's ear, releasing the erections and smoothing down Tony's skin, a finger pressing into him. Tony's hands grip onto the firm skin of Loki's back, teeth gritted in frustration as Loki fingers him slowly. It's not enough.

“Yes,” he gasps, hips working against his finger, looking for more. “Please-”

His plea turns to incoherent noise as Loki's fingers work to spread him open, the cool slickness accompanying them sending shivers over his skin. Tony's fingers smooth into Loki's hair, lips looking for lips as Loki spreads his thighs further apart, one hand resting on his thigh to keep him in place. Loki leans over him as he withdraws his fingers, finally pressing his tip against him and thrusts, filling him within moments.

Tony's out of control as Loki's hands grasp his hip and his thigh, his hips dealing quick, hard thrusts. Heavy breaths and quiet moans fill the air as they move on the bed. Tony's hand cups Loki's face as he kisses him, lips, his jaw and his neck, finally settling for any exposed skin he can reach.

“You're beautiful,” he finds himself whispering, and Loki looks surprised for a fleeting moment, losing his rhythm. Tony runs his fingers through long black locks, sighing as Loki slows, eyes searching Tony's face.

Tony says it again, drawing Loki into a deep kiss, moaning deep in his throat as Loki responds with passion. Tony writhes as a hand leaves the bruised skin of his hip and wraps around his erection, stroking him firmly.

“It's not enough,” Loki gasps against his lips, resting his forehead on Tony's as he claims his body. “I need your soul,” he growls, eyes looking deep into Tony's. “Do you love me?”

Tony's lost in pleasure, body moving to meet Loki's thrusts, his cock dripping pre-come on his abdomen.

“Do you love me?” Loki hisses, biting at Tony's lip, kissing him harshly.

“Yes,” Tony gasps helplessly, the pleasure burning through his body. He moans and cries out the words, over and over as Loki, eyes tightly shut, comes into him -

Tony jerks awake, his body giving him no warning before he's coming, fingers curled into the sheets. Wide eyed, he blinks out into the darkness, panting. His breathing gradually slows and his body stills as he stares out into empty space. His mind works, trying to explain, to understand.


His lips are sore.

“Yes, sir?”

His throat is hoarse.

“Was someone just here?”

Bruises are forming where his fingers dug into skin.

“No, sir. You have been sleeping for the past five hours.”

Tony swallows, dusting black strands of hair out of his hand.