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This Thursday had started as usual: Doom had sent an army of bots to town, Clint had tried to shoot Loki, and Natasha had punched him through the wall (Clint, not Loki, which remained an enigma for pretty much everyone). So Tony suited up, flew into the midst of annoying minions and started some serious firework, while Hulk and Clint hunted down the few rogue ones, civilians were brought to safety by Steve, and Doom’s office door was slammed open by a growling Fury in full snarling mode.

Tony, who was running low on caffeine since the first alarm, cursed his luck some more when a robot attached itself to his suit and disabled the propulsion system. He would have plummeted to the ground if not for a timely intervention.

“Are you in need of me, Stark?”

Loki smiled as he followed him in his fall, much more gracefully though, mischief written all over his face.

“Are you an idiot?” Tony growled.

“Do you want to crush your thick skull open, imbecile?”

“Do I look like I need help?” Tony snarled back. “Seriously, you have to ask?”

Loki stopped his fall a few meters from the ground, but still slammed him in the concrete for good measure.

“You should show some respect for your savior,” he snarled hauntingly. “Lest he reconsiders the upsides of magnanimity.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Loki slammed him again before leaving him to wince and swear and generally complain about Thursdays. Jarvis piped up mid-sentence. “Sir, Doom’s bots have all been magically short-circuited.”

“You’re welcome,” Loki purred over the coms. Magic, again; the god refused to wear an earpiece. Tony shivered like every time he heard that particular tone, and wasn’t that a mystery better left alone.

He went back to the tower pretty much tired to the bone. All in all, a typical Thursday, which said a lot about his life.

A kind of live that Pepper didn’t want anything to do with, not that Tony blamed her. He had endangered her more times than was decent, and she certainly could do better than an old guy with an arc reactor for a heart, and an irrepressible tendency to go and play with the devil whenever possible.

“Jarvis, lock down the penthouse like usual.”

“Like usual means that…”

“I know perfectly well what ‘usual’ entails, Jarv.” Tony got out of his suit whistling. Damn, but those marks on his arm were impressive. “Just do it, ok?”


‘Normal’ had taken quite a new meaning over the past few months. Tony hadn’t though anything was amiss when Thor had showed up on the common floor, claiming he had a ‘surprise’ for his brothers and sister in arms (anyone who ignored Natasha dug up an early grave). Encouraged by the memory that his last visit had included a fair amount of Asgardian alcohol, Tony had put his work on hold and raced upstairs.

Loki was with him. Loki, the asshole who’d thrown him out of his own window. And like the asshole that he was, Loki had smiled at the frozen crowd gathered in the kitchen.

“I’m here to propose an alliance.”

Tony had been completely dumbfounded until Clint had tried to shoot Loki, who had in turn hung the archer on the wall by invisible threads to explain the nature of that alliance. He had found back his tongue after a shamefully long time of silent consideration.

“So you’re here in the hope that I will teach you about Misgardian tech, in exchange for your… help?”  

“Do live up to your reputation, Stark, and don’t make me repeat myself.”

Needless to say, there had been a lot of tension the first few weeks. Bruce had taken on meditating in his private quarters, Clint had destroyed his paper targets faster than Jarvis could print them, and Tony had holed up into his lab, while Natasha had quietly studied their enemy-not-quite-ally-on-probation.

Loki’s unexpected help during a fight four weeks later had prompted Clint to reduce his death threats to twice a day, and Natasha to actually smile at him. The god had spared her a damaging head blow during the fight, but still. Natasha’s smiles were downright scary.

Not as scary, though, as Loki’s silent interest for his explanations. True to his word, Loki hat sat down in Tony’s lab for mind-blowing discussions about magic and technology. Tony had never taken so many notes in his life, and that was no little feat. He’d known Loki was brilliant, but to have him offer juicy tidbits of magical physics was kind of a nerdgasm. And the way Loki looked at him while Tony filled his part of the bargain, talking on and on about his work…

Nope, not going there.

Still, it was kind of hard working hand in hand with someone with a defenestration history. Tony tried, he really did (even Steve noticed), but he just couldn’t calm down in the god’s company. He felt on edge, ready to snap, and every time they met after a fight just strengthened that perilous state of unease.

There was a part of him (a very tiny, tiny part, he tried to convince himself) that wondered at the god’s intellect and missed his sharp tongue whenever he left for Asgard. He didn’t like him, not one tiny bit, and it was mutual. They were just… civil. And just like every reasonable fighter at the end of a long day, they happened to share the desire to lounge somewhere comfortable and have a drink. The fact that the rest of the team preferred to fall face down into their beds didn’t mean anything.


'Locking down the penthouse like usual' meant that Loki, of course, could teleport straight into his living room. The first time it’d happened, Tony had thrown his glass at him. They had eventually come to an arrangement; Loki would join him after a fight and serve him a drink.

And also heal him. Apparently, it was no strain for the god, and Tony appreciated to be back on his feet so fast.

“Would you like something to drink, Stark?”

Tony headed for the designer couch, ready to lie down and die (metaphorically of course).


“A finger of scotch would be nice.”

Loki circled around the bar and flicked a finger, calling the bottle of expensive scotch to him. Tony knew he hated the stuff, but the god would still serve him that drink before taking anything himself.

“You mortals are annoying,” Loki said out of the blue.

Tony blinked; he had started to doze off. “That’s nothing new coming from you.”

He knew his causal reply would annoy the god and relished at the way those green eyes narrowed.

“You are being careless, Stark.”

“Am I?”


The hiss did something to his chest, which he promptly dismissed. Post-fight fatigue and all that.

“I fight in a suit, princess. I am not careless.”

“If those robots can power down that suit of yours, then yes, you are.”

So the guy was in a nasty mood today? Tony sighed. “Just bring me my drink already.”

Loki took his goddamn time getting it ready. Of course, being a god and a mind-fucker (it probably had nothing to do with his ancestry), Loki had to mix the drink with his finger. With his finger, Tony’s brain played on repeat, focusing his gaze on the long white digit. It was really unfair how erotic that simple gesture could be. Like it was not really alcohol and ice cubes swirling around Loki’s finger. Like those careful, languid circular motions were meant for something else, somewhere else, to tease and damn, Tony was blushing for the first time in decades.

Green eyes locked with his. A secret smile curled up the god’s lips.

“Is there something on your mind, Stark?”

Yes, your finger fucking around in that glass, Tony thought, but kept silent.

Loki didn’t stop smiling as he pressed an ice cube to the bottom of the glass, moving it around with careful precision. For the life of him, Tony couldn’t look away. He knew it was no magic (he knew it when Loki used magic on him, thank you very much), and yet he was completely mesmerized by the sight. God, that finger was so nimble. Sure. According to Norse legends (and Thor’s drunken stories), Loki had a string of satisfied lovers that could stretch to the moon and back. 

And Loki was just fooling around with an ice cube, with his finger. Suggesting. Teasing. Tony shook his head, swirling thoughts coming to a halt. Teasing? Where did that come from?

There was now something like shyness in Loki’s eyes. And then that curtain briefly lifted on vulnerability was pulled close, and Loki looked his usual regal, arrogant self. Tony had liked the vulnerability, for some reason.


He didn’t recognize his voice. Loki cocked his head, a considering light in his eyes. Tony tried to swallow and found his throat dry.

“More?” Loki purred. “More what?”

Tony couldn’t talk.

“More of this, perhaps?”

Loki came closer, never stopping the slow dance of his finger in the golden liquid. Tony’s eyes must be bulging ridiculously by now, but he couldn’t help it. He might (might) have made a keening noise when Loki lifted that wet finger and closed his lips around it, sucking on it, his attention solely focused on Tony.

“I asked you if there was something on your mind, Stark.”

He stood in front of him, knees so close they would brush if Tony just moved a little. He wanted to move. He wanted to do a lot of things. He hadn’t considered doing any of those things in a while, and certainly not with their resident God of Mischief, but the guy was fucking fingering his drink and Tony wanted those fingers prying him open like yesterday.

He wasn’t one to be quiet about his desires.

“Actually, there is something on my mind. Would you mind getting on your knees? I want my cock in your mouth. You look like you know how to use it.”

Tony didn’t know why he hadn’t told Loki about the other fantasy he’d just considered. It didn’t matter in the end, because there was no way Loki would actually agree to the specifics… and yet he might just take him on the general offer.

“I might want my drink firs…”

“It’s a little late for that.”

Tony gasped as Loki used sheer strength to pull him off the couch and press him against a window, the very same he’d used as an emergency exit some years ago. His clothes were magicked somewhere, and a hand snaked down his back, closing over one buttock. Loki had very cold fingers. Tony shivered once more. His cock twitched against the glass as nails sank into his flesh, possessive.

“You are quite the impertinent one, Anthony.” Tony moaned. “Sucking cocks is something I would enjoy with your mouth put to good use.”

Tony thought it would be a good moment to say he would gladly do that, too.

“Too?” Loki’s finger moved closer to the space between his cheeks. Apparently, he had spoken aloud. “What else would you like to do?”


“Please what?”

The digit caressed his entrance, just as teasing as the finger in the alcohol. Tony tried to get some air back into his lungs, but he was too busy being dizzy from the force of his arousal.

“Please use those fingers on me, Loki.”

And Loki laughed as he finally breached his hole, slid one digit as deep as it would go, then out and in again, in and out and in and out until Tony panted for more. The second finger was wet and slightly sticky.

“Is that my expensive scotch you’re putting up my ass?”

“For now,” Loki crooned against his nape. “You might not be able to take me otherwise.”

One hand came around him to flick at his nipples. Toes curling, Tony arched his back. Loki thrust those fingers to the last knuckle and reached for that bundle of nerves famous for its fireworks. Tony let out a pitiful moan as Loki did it again, not even feeling the pain when sharp teeth set up to mark his throat.

“You are so eager, Anthony.” Tony didn’t have enough brain power left to reply with words. “You open up like a flower.”

Tony banged his head against the glass; he didn’t want to come, not yet, but if Loki insisted on talking dirty like that, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

“Just… fuck me already,” he managed to say.

The next thrust was downright lascivious. And hard. Tony snapped his hips back, meeting Loki’s closed palm.

“Stay still lest you hurt yourself.”


“Stay still for me, Anthony.”

Tony felt like shoving him through the window. He didn’t have the time to make good on that threat, though; something huge pressed against his loosened hole, something cold and wet and oh god, Loki was going to fuck him right there.

“I do believe it has been a while for you. I will try and be gentle.”

“Don’t… bother.”

He felt Loki still. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Even in the midst of his arousal, Tony could tell Loki hadn’t meant for those words to be heard. He fumbled behind him, seeking Loki’s face. He found his mouth and parted his lips.

“I’m not against a little pain, you know. And you can heal me afterwards anyway.” Tony tsked. “No, screw that. I want to feel it afterwards.”

He could tell the moment Loki’s control snapped; he was suddenly stretched to the breaking point, his ass delightfully full. It had been a while indeed. He had missed it for sure, and Loki… He squirmed against the still-clothed god behind him.

“Why do you still have all your clothes?”

“Why are you still talking?”

Tony barely had the time to adjust before Loki started to move. It was glorious. Violence, sensuality and care all wrapped up in sensations too strong to be held by skin. Tony squirmed some more, face pressed against the window. Loki’s hands moved to his hips as the god thrust into him with a steady rhythm. The wet noise of their flesh meeting and parting propelled him way too close to the edge.

“Slow… Slow down,” he said in a rough voice, licking his lips. “I’m gonna come too soon.”

“Maybe I have been waiting a long time for you to fall apart, and I am getting… impatient.”

Loki’s voice was hoarse, full of things unsaid. Tony bit down his lip until he drew blood. Loki was good. Loki was so good, and Tony wasn’t going to stop his impending orgasm, not when the god just knew which angle worked best, and if that was Loki fucking him for the first time, he sure as hell wanted to know how…

“Stop thinking,” Loki snarled. And slammed into him. “Feel me.”

Tony couldn’t feel anything else. Loki’s cock was a tight fit, and Tony couldn’t wait to get his mouth on it, because it felt cold and perfect and he just wanted a taste. He stopped the thought and focused on the accelerated rhythm, and fuck it was great that Loki was a god, because he wouldn’t be able to keep a pace like that. His brow kept hitting the window, and he didn’t care, because he was close, so close…

Loki let out a wild noise and bit down his nape, hard. Tony came with a shout over the glass, painting the city in white lines. Loki followed suit. Tony felt the heat of his semen deep inside him and stopped the god from moving away.

“Just… for a moment. Can you stand?”

“Of course I can stand.”

But Loki was shaking behind him; the words were only his pride talking. Tony smiled a secret smile and reached for one of Loki’s hands.

“I could get used to post-battle sex.” With you, he added silently.

Loki tugged at his hair, twisting it around so they could kiss. Tony tasted scotch and mint and something uniquely Loki.

“I thought you didn’t like scotch?”

Loki’s tongue traced his bottom lip. “I believe I can make an exception for yours.” 

Somehow, Tony didn't think he talked about alcohol.