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That Solo's Awful Long, But It's A Good Refrain

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Tony's gone from pissed to angry to amused to (slightly) impressed to furious and right back around again about twenty times before STARK Tower comes into view. He eyes up Loki as he lands, tells JARVIS to skip the spinning rims, because really, JARVIS? Not the time. Loki's got this weird look on his face that Tony watches unblinkingly as he walks, and he hates how comfortable Loki looks as he steps inside. But Tony knows nervousness even if he doesn't practice it often himself, he knows the self-doubt that sits upon the back of your neck, even when you think there's nothing in your way to stop you. Something can always go wrong. Something usually does. 

 

Really, Tony Stark is no stranger to Loki Laufeyson. 

 

In the most ridiculously patronizing way possible, he kind of sees himself. A taller, slightly less handsome version, obviously, because let's face it; no one is better looking that Tony himself. 

 

Tony says, "Care for a drink?" in an offhand sort of manner. Except the thing is, he means it. The drink is legitimate, no games, no harm no foul, and he's pouring one for himself, anyway. 

 

"Stalling won't change anything," says Loki, and Tony's not surprised about the dismissal of his offer. A little annoyed, because he's offering some of his house best here, and people shouldn't take that for granted, even if you are from another universe. Then Loki says, "I would however, care for a drink." 

 

"Not stalling," corrects Tony, "threatening." So maybe he's a little surprised that Loki's taken up the offer, and he's not sure what he prefers. The annoyance he first felt, or this new sense of surprise. He's not really happy with either one. He's pouring when it all progresses to Loki asking the question Tony expects him to:

 

"What have I to fear?"

 

He answers, "The Avengers," and takes in Loki's quizzical look. He caps the bottle and makes a face because he knows how it sounds, he's not that impressed with the title himself. "It's what we call ourselves, sort of like a team. 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' type thing."

 

"Yes," says Loki, and he isn't too impressed himself. "I've met them."

 

"Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one, but, let's do a head count here." Tony has spent far too many years projecting and perfecting his 'this is of no real importance to me but you should listen anyway just because I'm speaking,' look, and he knows it's just coming off brilliantly as he speaks now. "Your brother, the demi-god." Tony's eyes don't miss the way Loki looks off to the side with a foul expression. He continues as if he hasn't noticed. "A super soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend; a man with breath-taking anger management issues; a couple of master assassins, and you big fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them." 

 

And Tony knows games because he's played many of them. He hands Loki the glass and tries to ignore the way the long, slender fingers brush against his own as the glass is taken from him.

 

Loki has that strange, self-satisfied smile. "Yes, that was the plan."

 

"Not a great plan. When they come, and they will, they'll come for you." Tony's merely stating the obvious, except there's the tinge of a warning coating his words, and Loki detects it. 

 

"I have an army," the Norse deity says, and Tony snaps back with, "We have a hulk."

 

Loki diverts. "I thought the beast had wandered off." 

 

And suddenly Tony just doesn't care about the games any more. He's sick and tired of playing and faking and all this other-worldly shit. He's over it. There's no  more prelude, no more spare moments before the curtains rise; this is it. This is it and Loki's still playing and there was a small chance that this could have gone differently but it hasn't, and really, Tony never thought it would. He'd entertained different scenarios in his head while he travelled the distance from the helicarrier to the tower, but really it all just comes down to this. 

 

Loki has an army. He's not going to stop. They have to stop him. The end. 

 

"You're missing the point," says Tony, and Loki seems to listen more intently even as he takes a delicate sip of his drink. "There's no throne. There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it." 

 

The game has ended.

 

Loki's eyes are cold and full of contempt, and he steps forward to the point where Tony would maybe be a little uncomfortable if he hadn't spent most of his life invading other peoples' private space for shits and giggles when he felt like it. Somewhere in Tony's over-active mess of a brain it registers that Loki has almost finished the whole glass.

 

"How will your friends have time for me," asks Loki silkily, "when they'll be too busy fighting you?"

 

Then he taps the end of his fancy sceptre to Tony's heart, and waits expectantly. Tony blinks and looks down. Loki has not taken his eyes from Tony's chest, and Tony can see the furrow in his brows. He brings the sceptre back and tries again. The tip hits Tony's arc reactor and Loki is left with nothing. 

 

"This usually works," says Loki, and for a minute, over his confusion, he sounds almost vaguely disappointed that Tony won't be able to see his magic puppet trick in action.

 

Tony makes a face. "Performance issues, one in five -"

 

And then Loki has dropped the glass on the ground and wrapped his hand around Tony's neck. 

 

"Hey, hey!" croaks out Tony, because no, definitely not part of the plan. "Second round?" he flicks his eyes to the ground where Loki's discarded glass rolls at their feet, and then back to the face of the Norse deity himself. Loki's face is centimetres from his own, mouth twisted in a snarl of fury and Tony can't do anything except gasp for hair and raise his eyebrows. 

 

Loki's fingers squeeze tighter as he stares into Tony's eyes, and then he lets go. 

 

He looks deceivingly calm. 

 

Tony steps back. "I'm taking that as a, 'Yes, Tony, I would love another drink, thank you!'"

He rounds his way back to the bar, very much aware of Loki watching him, and gets out two new glasses. He sets them down on the bar a little too firmly as he his mind races through the new variables in the equation. Not so much an option of diplomacy but a lot better than Loki ending him where he stands. But for a reason. Always for a reason. Ulterior motive? Stalling? The word catches in Tony's mind and he looks up to glance at Loki, seemingly disinterested, before making sure he's not over filling the glass. Loki does not look like he's stalling, but Tony didn't look like he was threatening when he came in here, either.

 

Looks can be deceiving. Tony snorts in derision of the over-used line. 

 

"Does something in those glasses amuse you, Stark?" 

 

Tony sets the bottle down and picks up the two glasses, striding easily around the bar to hand one to Loki, who has a raised brow in question. 

 

"Nope," says Tony, deliberately popping the 'p.' Loki look unimpressed, so Tony smiles falsely at him and moves to clink their glasses together in mock of salute. Loki follows the gesture with a somewhat curious look before lifting the glass to his lips and swallowing. Tony does the same, not taking his eyes off of Loki's glass, measuring how much he's drinking in comparison to himself. If Thor can eat and drink like a horse and not feel ill, Tony's guessing it goes the same for his kid brother. Which means he, Tony Stark, with a liver of steel, has to be careful as to how much alcohol he actually consumes. Not that he plans to get written off with the God of Mischief. Although, thinks Tony with some dark sliver of amusement, that could certainly avert the whole intergalactic war thing. Maybe. 

 

Hmmmm. 

 

Tony is aware of Loki's eyes on him so he tips the glass back to his mouth and finishes off the whole thing. Something flashes in Loki's eyes and he waits a few moments before doing the same. 

 

There's a very awkward silence. 

 

"Round three?" asks Tony, because what the fuck. All bets are off at this current point in time. Loki seems to be thinking along the same lines because he hands his glass back to Tony almost immediately. "You know," says Tony as he makes his way back to the bar, "you could just walk over here and save me from playing gopher." He flicks his eyes up, takes in Loki's smirk. 

 

"Where would the fun be in that?" asks Loki, but walks forward with carefully measured steps until he is within arms' reach of Tony and the alcohol. 

 

Tony knows that Loki is no idiot, he can't just roofie him. Making one glass bigger than the other is a bad, drunken teenager gig that Tony ditched many, many years ago. No, he just has to keep up stamina and possibly out drink the guy. Which will be hard, considering Tony hasn't eaten and it's only just passed midday and the warm, fuzzy curling around the edges of his brain are starting to become more noticeable. All very, very bad factors in this particular equation. For him, anyway. 

 

Loki looks as sharp as ever, but Tony sees the way his eyes alight on the glass before he takes his first, large gulp. So he likes it, then. There's no twist to Loki's mouth to suggest bitterness or unpleasantness, and Tony is mildly impressed that he can hold his liquor well. It's strong stuff what he's dishing out, the stuff that Tony only needs about a quarter of a bottle of to be well on his way to plastered. 

 

Tony says, "where's the fun in taking over the world?" before his brain can stop his tongue. 

 

Loki does not look as calm as before. "At what point did I admit that this was for my own amusement?" he speaks in clipped tones and sharp words, and Tony thinks, 'oops, hit a nerve!' before steam rolling on. 

 

"So you're being forced?" It's kind of rhetorical but not really, as Tony leaves about a two second gap for Loki to jump in. There's no jumping. "So someone's playing you?" Tony points a finger at Loki and narrows his eyes. "Which is interesting, because you give off the air of the 'big bad' around here. You don't exactly look like the guy to be pushed into doing the dirty work." Tony tips his glass forward, "something tells me you're the guy to get others to do that sort of stuff for you."

 

Loki's grip on the glass is tight, Tony notices. A reaction. Not much of one, but enough. 

 

"You don't want to take over Earth exactly," continues Tony, because this is what he does, this is what he knows. Puzzles. Riddles. Experiments. Finding how things work. What makes them tick. Pulling apart and reassembling an engine for the sake of knowing. Exploring, investigating, pushing. He's backtracking through Loki's file at S.H.I.E.L.D, through the titbits he's picked up from Thor along the way. "You let go of that bridge, didn't you?" Tony asks, except this time he's not looking for an answer. He snatches Loki's glass away without thinking and puts it next to his own on the counter, picking up the bottle pouring. "With your dad and Thor and what do you call it? Bitfrost? Bifrost. You let go and you fell into some sort of blackhole and let's face it. Where did you go?" Tony looks up. "Who did you meet? Who saved your sorry ass and what did you feed them in return for that?" He looks pointedly at Loki's sceptre as he hands over the drink. 

 

Loki looks like he wants to throw it back in his face. Tony considers that this isn't all bad, considering how many times drinks have been thrown in his face in the past. 

 

Loki, however, takes the glass from Tony as if Tony himself were dirt and Loki did not want any beneath his fingernails. Tony takes a deliberately encouraging sip and watches Loki do the same. 

 

"As I was saying," presses Tony, and Loki almost winces, "you were running. You were running from your dad and from Thor who BTW," Tony pauses, "that means 'by the way,' is still on your side and is convinced you're just having a rebellious moment like all kids do."

 

"Thor knows nothing," hisses Loki, and Tony wonders if that's an improvement from stone cold silence. Has to be. 

 

"Well, I'm just saying," replies Tony. "So you're on the run, but from who, exactly? You chose to leave Asgard behind you, but whoever gave you that," and Tony looks at the sceptre again, "is obviously some scary piece of work to have you doing this. What happens after you enslave the human race? What then? Why do these alien guys need Earth? What's so great about it? Unless at the end of the day it isn't about them." No, thinks Tony, because all it's ever been about is you. "It's not about them or Thor or your father with the questionable parenting skills - it's about you." 

 

Loki is like a statue. Tony think for a moment that he's a very pretty statue. Oh, fuck. There it goes. The alcohol is obviously in effect. Tony realizes Loki's most recent drink has not been touched. There are dregs left in his own. Tony makes a show of tipping his head back and swallowing what's left in his glass. Loki rigidly brings his own glass to his lips and swallows the lot. 

 

Tony reaches out, waits, and Loki hands him the glass stiffly. Progress, dings a little bell in Tony's head. Though with the murderous expression in Loki's eyes almost rendering him immobile Tony wonders what kind of progress this might be. He mulls it over while he pours. 

 

"Somewhere to hide." Tony's hand falters and alcohol slops to the side. He looks up sharply. "When this is all over, when there's nothing left, Earth will be somewhere for you to go. Away from your family and away from whoever else," Tony waves his hand dismissively, "you'll have somewhere to retreat to and  hide." Tony blinks. "Somewhere you'll be safe." 

 

Tony is too busy staring at Loki's face that he's almost surprised when Loki reaches over and takes his glass from the bench. 

 

"You were always the perceptive one," murmurs Loki, lifting his glass to his lips. "The one with the intelligence." He says the word in a strange mixture of reverence and distaste.

 

Tony just shrugs smugly. "Someone has to be the brains behind the operation." At the pause, he gulps back his drink, pleased when Loki does the same. He's getting a little heady now, and he knows he'll feel it when he tries to walk. Staying still sounds like a good game plan right now. Just keep talking, keep prying, play it a little longer. Just a game. Just another game. You can do it, Tony, just once more.

 

"Something troubling you?"

 

Tony realizes it must show on his face, his weariness, his complete lack of giving a fuck. When he looks at Loki he finds narrowed eyes and a titled head. He feels like he is being examined. Loki's eyes are piercing and Tony hates it, hates him for all of this. Then he wonders if this is how Loki felt not moments ago when it was Tony's sharp tongue doing the examining. 

 

Huh. That sounded... Naughty. 

 

"Your mind races from one thought to another," says Loki quietly, "I see it on your face." 

 

"Am I right?" asks Tony, ignoring him. He doesn't need to clarify. Loki is not stupid. 

 

"Why would I tell you?" replies Loki, easily, loosely, and Tony watches as he finishes the amber dregs in his glass. He's been a friend to alcohol long enough to know that it's finally having some kind of effect on Loki, and Tony thinks, thank fuck, because how long can you act decidedly sober before you trip up on your own tongue and tell a Norse Deity from another realm who's hell bent on taking over your world that you think he's pretty?

 

"You think I'm what?"

 

Tony blinks. "What?"

 

Loki frowns. "Did I mishear?" 

 

Tony says, "what?" again. 

 

"Stop saying 'what' you moron," snaps Loki. 

 

Tony opens his mouth, but then decides against any further action because Loki looks rather furious. Maybe honesty is the next step. Tony almost laughs. Then there's a hand around his throat once more and his laugh turns into chocked nothings. 

 

"It would be wise for you to speak honestly," says Loki in silken tones against Tony's ear, "for these words may be your last." 

 

Not now, thinks Tony desperately to his twitching cock, not right fucking now. 

 

"I - ugh -  you know it's really hard to talk - withyourhandonmythroat." Tony sucks in air through his nose, and Loki's grip loosens only just. "I ugh -"

 

"I am not choking you," says Loki quietly, and Tony thinks there may be some amusement in there somewhere, "no need to stumble over your words now."

 

"Jesus fuck I said you're pretty okay?" snaps Tony, twisting his head as Loki pulls back so he can glare at him. "I've had a couple of drinks and I tend to let my mouth go on a rampage before my brain gets to filtering anything so alcohol just makes it ten times worse. Okay? Okay. So I said you're pretty. It's not like I'm lying, you have nice facial structure and a rather full head of hair -"

 

Loki lets him go with a shove, pushing him back against the counter and Tony's head spins, because Loki is suddenly all up in his personal space, breath crowding breath and hips on hips and Loki's pinning him. Tony blinks, because he hasn't been pinned in a long time. He does the pinning. He is the dominant one. Always. And what Loki's doing? It's not exactly battle strategy in Tony's mind, it's more like bedroom strategy, and that is a game that Tony can play all day and all night. 

 

He grabs at Loki's hip the other at his chest, and forces them around, so Loki's spine is pressed against the marble and Tony leans in, delighting in the way Loki's eyes widen. Tony smiles lecherously and pushes up against Loki's thighs. 

 

"Cat got your tongue?" he asks with a lick of his lips. Loki's breath is a mix of snow and whiskey and Tony thinks 'that's really nice' before he acts on impulse. 

 

Loki's lips are slightly chapped but cool, a strange underlying coolness that has Tony opening his mouth and attacking Loki's lips with his tongue just to get more. He wonders if this is what will be read at his funeral. 'Spent the last thirty seconds of his life with his tongue down the throat of S.H.I.E.L.D's most wanted criminal.'

 

Oh yeap, definitely, because Tony feels hands on his neck and he thinks, 'I wonder how much it hurts when someone snaps your neck?' but then nothing. Those hands slide across his skin, fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt to stroke at the skin of his back, and Tony blinks once and sees Loki's eyes burning into his own face. He smiles sharply and bites at Loki's lips. Blood is drawn and suddenly they're moving, stumbling backwards because Loki is all over him and Tony wonders when the fuck did this happen, exactly? 

 

Loki's hands hold his neck like one might hold a cup of water after being stranded in the desert. (Tony should know. Been there. Done that.) Loki presses up against him like a cat in heat, stroking his body up against Tony's and Tony thinks that this is all going surprisingly well, all things considered. Tony gets his hands in Loki's armour and pulls, pull him in close, cups a hand around the back of Loki's neck and pets roughly at the sweaty strands of black hair that curl at the nape. Loki is all leather and armour and sharp angles, and Tony wants to feel all those angles. 

 

"I have a bed," he says somewhere in between kisses, and Loki attacks his jaw with teeth and tongue. 

 

"Beds can be nice," murmurs Loki. 

 

"It's -- down the hall," manages Tony as he gasps for air, and he detects the frown in Loki's voice. 

 

"Think of your room," he says hoarsely into Tony's ear. "Think of it, Stark." Tony breaks off, stares at Loki's face searchingly and reaches behind him to grip the almost finished bottle of whiskey. He waves it temptingly. 

 

"I'm thinking."

 

Loki smiles dangerously and then the world spins. It's a tug behind his navel that has him wanting to be sick, and when Tony opens his eyes he's in his bedroom. Whoah. Whoah. Teleportation. Loki can do that. Good to know. 

 

Tony brings the bottle to his mouth and takes a liberal swallow. The liquid burns his throat and his stomach lurches, but then he steps forward and practically man-handles Loki onto the bed. 

 

"JARVIS, windows - and NO interruptions whatsoever," he manages to get out, and Loki barely pauses to glance at the panels moving to cover the window. They're thrown into darkness, and Tony thinks, oh, dark, before saying, "lights, twelve percent."

 

"Very alluring," comments Loki as the room is lit with a dull glow. 

 

"You're alluring," mutters Tony ineloquently as he shoves Loki back onto the bed. It surprises him, really, how much of a fight Loki doesn't put up. He had initially, back near the bar, but now he lays back and lets Tony fumble his way down his body, attempting to remove his armour with clumsy, drink-addled fingers. Tony's nothing if not smooth, so he bites at Loki's earlobe and whispers dirty things into his ear to make up for the clumsiness of his fingers. 

 

Loki seems to understand that, and allows Tony to fumble for a few moments before he waves his hand and suddenly Tony's pressed up against hot, hot skin. He's not naked, not fully, but he's left only in his black leathers and boots, and hell if Tony doesn't think that's ten times hotter than the whole outfit. (So maybe he has a thing for the horned helmet. Sue him.) 

 

He pulls his own shirt over his head, watches Loki's eyes flit straight to the arc reactor in his chest. 

 

"You give me answers later, I'll give you the same," says Tony, because he doesn't want to talk about dirt and sand and sweat and imprisonment right now, not when he's feeling strangely euphoric and free. Which is probably the strangest thing to be feeling when you're in such close proximity to the God of Mischief. 

 

"What if I want my answers now?" presses Loki, and his fingers are at the waist of Tony's jeans, working deftly at the buttons in a way that seems too easy considering the amount of alcohol he's consumed. As if on cue, Loki reaches for the bottle that Tony has discarded, picks it up off the side of the floor and tips his head back, drinking languidly. 

 

Tony presses his lips against Loki's before the other man has time to swallow. Loki makes a sound in his throat as he opens his mouth, and Tony licks into the moist cavern and tastes the alcohol, swallows it and kisses bruises to Loki's lips. When he pulls back he is breathless, and he wonders how he looks to Loki, but Loki looks like sin and sweat and seduction all rolled into one and Tony wants him. Want. That's all there is to it, and no one has ever denied Tony anything, and this will be no different. 

 

He tells Loki so. 

 

"You want me?" murmurs Loki, leaning back against Tony's pillows with a somewhat lazy expression. "Anthony Stark, what would your band of misfits say about you now?" 

 

Tony says, "I don't care," in such a hoarse whisper it surprises even himself, but it just seems to make Loki more lustful. He rises up on his elbows, kisses the sanity from Tony's mouth and claims him down with a hand around his neck once more. 

 

Being naked is neither shameful or awkward, and Tony sits back and admires the way Loki's cock sits heavy and waiting against his abdomen as the God leans back and waits expectantly. Tony's own arousal hangs thick between his legs, and as he leans over Loki he wraps his hand around his cock, pumping slowly, smile lascivious as he shuffles up Loki's body. 

 

"Promise not to strangle me with your thighs," says Tony, "and I'll give you the blowjob of your life." 

 

Loki almost laughs. "You are full of charm." 

 

Tony just smirks and lowers his head, licking a wet stripe across Loki's sharp hip. Loki arches up, breath heavy as he curls his fingers into the sheets at his sides. Tony ghosts his lips lower, fingers trailing up Loki's thighs to grip the muscle. Loki tenses and flexes beneath his touch, and when Tony finally wraps his lips around the head of Loki's cock, Loki lets out something like a keening sound and arches up off the bed, successfully shoving all of his cock into Tony's mouth. Luckily Tony's a quick adapter, because Loki isn't exactly small, so he relaxes his throat and opens his mouth wide, tucking his teeth behind his lips and lets Loki continue to thrust upwards. 

 

There's the hesitant touch of a hand on his head, and Tony nudges upwards, sucks harder, encourages the touch. Loki's fingers begin to card through his hair, softly at first, testing, but the more he touches the more enthusiastic Tony becomes at sucking his dick, and Loki catches on quickly. When he tugs at Tony's air and Tony whines high in the back of his throat, Loki is almost gleeful. Tony flicks his eyes up, watches Loki staring down at him with his mouth partly open, and  then he tugs at Tony's hair again and Tony's eyes rolls shut. He shifts, getting a shoulder beneath one of Loki's legs and hitching it up, running his hand down the limb and stroking over Loki's hip in warm, soothing circles. Loki is almost frantic at the touch, and Tony wonders briefly how long it's been since Loki's had any kind of physical affection.

 

Tony lets go of Loki's cock with a deliberately obscene pop, dropping down to crawl up the length his body. Loki is panting and wild-eyed beneath him, and when Tony brackets his shoulders with his arms, Loki gets this caged look and he starts to sit up. 

 

"Hey," says Tony, and leans down to kiss him. Loki pulls away, scrambling, and Tony realises he's scared of the trap-like stature that's Tony's own body. He sits back, resting on Loki's hips and tries not to groan at the feeling of their cocks brushing against one another. This seems to bring Loki back to him, because suddenly those eyes fix on Tony's face. 

 

Tony cocks his head to the side and asks, "So, how do you want to do this?" 

 

Loki is almost laughing, curved lips and bright eyes, and Tony picks up the bottle from the floor and takes a drink, loving the burn. Relishing it. Loki leans up and does what Tony did earlier, except he bites at Tony's lower lip hard and Tony jerks back automatically, alcohol dripping from his mouth. It runs down his chin and neck, and Loki watches the rivulets on his skin before leaning in and licking the liquid from him, tongue wet and cool on Tony's chest, up his neck and jaw, up to his mouth. He kisses the burn from Tony's mouth and licks at the wound on his lip, a soothing, almost placating gesture. It feels strange, coming from him. Tony finds he likes it. 

 

Tony finds he is liking Loki more and more. 

 

Tony thinks there may be a problem, here. 

 

Tony thinks that he doesn't care. 

 

Loki runs cool hands down Tony's back and they fall easily onto the bed. Tony repeats his question, says it again through a mouthful of cool tongue and teeth, and then realizes that he is lying between Loki's spread legs, that he's rutting into the juncture of Loki's thigh without thought. 

 

"Stark," murmurs Loki into his mouth, and the arousal burns straight into Tony's brain and sears all rational thought. He tries to remember how this goes, prep - he has to prep him or it will hurt and - he realizes that Loki is speaking to him. "Stark - Stark," and Tony blinks back into focus and stares down at Loki's face. "I want it to hurt," says Loki, and Tony just about comes there and then. 

 

"But still," he manages to get out, and reaches across to his drawers, fumbling around beneath old notes and things he's supposed to read over and magazines until he finds some lube. Loki shifts impatiently beneath him, eyes on Tony's hands as he unscrews the top and drizzles some lube liberally onto his fingers. 

 

"Stark -" he says, protesting, and Tony just smirks and runs his hand down his own cock, tugging once or twice, before sliding his hand down Loki's thigh and around his cock, giving that too a tug. Loki grits his teeth and Tony smiles dirtily, running his lubed hand between Loki's legs and under his ass, fingers probing between ass cheeks to find Loki's hole, rubbing wet fingers across it slowly. 

 

He pulls his hand away and Loki huffs, but then he gets himself into position and Loki must realize that this is progress because he stops giving Tony disgruntled, impatient looks and turns bedroom eyes on him instead. It breaks Tony's concentration for a moment and then he realizes Loki is smirking at him. Tony retaliates by pushing the head of his cock into Loki's ass. 

 

It does the trick. 

 

Loki throws his head back and Tony thinks, obscene, and he must say it out loud because Loki's eyes snap to him and a knowing smile plays its way across his face. 

 

Tony has to do something about the brain-to-mouth filter he currently does not have. 

 

Loki is tight and it burns and it hurts to the point of almost wanting to stop, and Tony grits his teeth and takes in Loki's face, but he doesn't seem as bothered as Tony. He winces as Tony pushes all the way in, but then Tony pauses and realizes they're both shaking a little. He presses a hand to Loki's abdomen, strokes patterns onto his skin with the pads of his fingers and waits for Loki to give him a sign. 

 

Loki says, "Now," and Tony pulls out and pushes in, finds his rhythm and rides Loki into the bed. He doesn't hold back, doesn't let up, he knows that Loki can take everything he has and more; so he gives it as hard as he can. 

 

"So good," Tony tell him, "fuck - so fucking tight -"

 

"You would talk," Loki says between breaths, "through this whole experience, wouldn't you?" Tony goes silent, and Loki frowns. "I did not say stop." 

 

Tony grins devilishly and thrusts harder, choosing to ignore Loki's own weeping cock that's desperately crying for attention. Good things come to those who wait and all that. 

 

Tony leans down and lays his body across Loki's, feels Loki grip his shoulder and thrust up to meet him. "Want to take you," he groans into Loki's shoulder. He pulls himself up, meeting Loki's eyes. "Going to fuck you so hard -"

 

"Then do it," challenges Loki, eyes glinting in the dull light. 

 

Tony pulls himself from Loki's ass, shivering at the lack of contact and rolls Loki onto his stomach. It's ridiculously attractive the way Loki props himself up on his hand knees, lowering his torso when Tony presses in behind him to rest on his forearms. Tony drapes himself over Loki's body, pressing into him once more. It's deeper and harder and rougher and Loki is making these obscene little sounds in his throat and groaning, and that has Tony thrusting so hard he thinks he might break a hip. It's safe to say the sex is fucking explosive, and when he curves a hand into Loki's neck and grips tight, Loki's whole body tenses, even his ass, and Tony lets out a choked sound as his thrusts falter. 

 

He runs his hand down Loki's side, curves beneath his ribs and down to his cock, curling his fingers around the heavy length and pumping in time to his thrusts. Which, all things considered, is becoming a bit erratic. Loki is a writhing mess beneath him and somewhere between thrusting and remembering to breathe, Tony thinks, well fuck. I'm fucking a God. Luckily he doesn't say that out loud. He thinks. If he has Loki doesn't say anything, just makes those noises in the back of his throat that have Tony going insane, and Tony leans down and bites hard into the skin between Loki's neck and shoulder and comes. It wrenches a sound from his throat as he shoots his load into Loki's ass, and he twists and tugs once more on Loki's cock before that too spills liquid warmth over his hand and the bedsheets.

 

Tony is dimly aware that he's shaking, and he drops, falling to the side and taking Loki with him, legs giving out. He still has his cock in Loki's ass, still curved around him, sweat running down his neck, breath coming in heavy pants. They are a tangled mess atop the sheets and for a moment all either of them can do is just breathe. 

 

Tony waits for it then, in the silence, for Loki to turn on him. To become destructive and unreasonable and cold and hard. To kill him or maim him and leave him, to announce war on Earth and continue his chaotic reign. He does not expect Loki to lay beside him and stretch. 

 

"You promised me answers," says Loki quietly, looking over his shoulder at Tony. Tony blinks. 

 

"That I did." He shifts, not knowing where to move because suddenly this is all very intimate and Tony doesn't do intimate - at least, not very well. He's kind of a train wreck in that department. But that's common knowledge.

 

"What is that thing in your chest?" asks Loki, and he takes the initiative to roll around, Tony's cock slipping from his ass. Tony is surprised by how cold it is now that he's stopped moving. He reaches down and tugs up the throw from the bottom of the bed, tossing it lazily over them both. Loki does not seem fazed. 

 

Tony gives him the abbreviated version, and when Loki goes for another question Tony shakes his head. "My turn. Back by the bar," he says, and Loki's eyes narrow. "Was I right?" 

 

Loki obviously contemplates his answer, chewing the words over before finally saying, "Yes." 

 

Tony clucks. "Thought so. I'm not normally wrong." The alcohol is still present, but it's thinning now, and clarity is suddenly on the horizon. 

 

"What will you tell them?" asks Loki, and Tony find it strange that Loki would use one of his questions on this particular topic, not say, what their plan of attack is for his little army invasion. 

 

"I don't know," says Tony honestly, "but if it comes down to it I'm a fairly decent liar." Which is putting it lightly, and Loki knows this, because he smiles darkly and raises a brow. "Do you still plan on taking over the world?" 

 

"Do not think your skills in the bedroom would be enough to sway my decision, Stark." He sounds amused by the question though, and if Tony's not wrong, sad. "What will you do when I kill you?" 

 

Suddenly the room is silent and cold, and Loki is watching him with calculating eyes, and Tony thinks, fuck. Because this was not the way he planned for this to go. Sometimes he fucking hates his life. 

 

"Let me put it this way." He props himself up on his elbow. "You, Mastermind Criminal of the Year, just slept with me. Tony Stark, aka Iron Man - current member of The Avengers, sworn to protect Earth and its inhabitants." Tony looks at Loki with dark eyes. "And you are an inhabitant of this planet, aren't you?" 

 

Loki just looks bewildered, and then his lips curve in derision. "You cannot protect the world from Him."

 

"Him?" asks Tony, because there's a grain of information leading into the dark, deep woods and he'll follow it all the damn way in. "This is the guy, right? The one who has you doing his dirty work? Loki, seriously, look at me. It doesn't have to be like this, and I know you've heard this from Thor and probably your terrible father figure but I mean it." Tony shrugs, "I mean it because I've been in your position and I know what it's like to feel trapped, to feel like there's no one there who's on your side any more. I don't wish that on anyone."

 

"You do not wish for me to destroy your planet," replies Loki, in a correcting kind of tone. 

 

"That too, obviously," says Tony as if Loki is a child. "But you've got to believe me, here, when I say that we can help you." 

 

"There is nothing that you can do to help me. His power his beyond your reckoning," snarls Loki, sitting up angrily. 

 

"And you thought that your power was behind our reckoning. Look how that's turning out." Tony shrugs. "It's the truth. You know we can help you. You know that Thor will -" Tony scowls at Loki's cold look, "- seriously? Knock it off with the Thor-hate, okay? Brother by blood or not the guy cares about you, and if you want to be a stubborn little fuck and ignore that then fine, but everyone else can see it, even if you can't."

 

Loki is on him in seconds, hands around his throat, squeezing tightly. 

 

"Really - again?" chokes out Tony, and raises his brows. He can see the desperation in Loki's eyes. Knows the pain that is there behind them. He and Loki are not that different, thinks Tony, and it registers that this is not the first time he's thought this. 

 

Loki's hands lose their strength, and he sits back desolately. "I am done, Stark," he confesses in a voice like gravel, "there is nothing for me now but death." 

 

"The funny thing," says Tony, rubbing his throat, "is that I've been where you are. And look at me now. Richer and prettier than ever." He smiles smugly. Loki does not return the smile. Tony's face drops into seriousness once more. "It's your choice, Loki, but I'm giving you an out. I'm giving you an opportunity and let's face it. You're not stupid." 

 

At Loki's silence, Tony makes an attempt to touch him. Loki does not flinch away. "How about I fuck you a few more times and let you think about it?"

 

Loki barks out a laugh. "I could be persuaded." 

 

Tony takes it literally, almost pouncing, and they tangle and fall and start to touch, and then the doors to his room burst open. 

 

"JARVIS!" calls Tony accusingly, but it's got nothing on the faces of the Avengers team standing in his doorway. Thor pushes through to the front, expression horrified. 

 

Loki is very, very naked, and they are in a very, very compromised position. 

 

"What the hell is going on here?" asks Steve, pulling his mask off to blink at them in dazed confusion. 

 

Tony looks at Loki and Loki looks at Tony. Loki's eyes are searching, and when he nods, the slightest, almost imperceptible nod, Tony breaks out into a full-on grin. He looks across at his team mates and crows happily;

 

"Crisis averted!"