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Eat Me Raw (Cultural Misunderstandings II)

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Loki was in the communal kitchen fixing dinner when Tony walked in and sat down heavily on a stool. The genius had spent the last thirty-six hours trying to fix the various bugs preventing the newest version of his suit to be the best of them all, and he was in dire need of some caffeine (and, according to that control freak of an AI that was Jarvis, who’d locked him out of his own lab, ‘appropriate sustenance’).

For a while, Tony just sat there, eyes glued to Loki’s back. He really liked Loki’s back, and possibly every inch of that tall, lean body that made a casual appearance at the kitchen every Wednesday between six and eight pm. He wasn’t sure what Loki was up to the rest of the time, because apparently that was between two one-eyed pirates and their minions, but the god had been looking much saner and happier as of late. Perhaps he was seeing a psychologist, as Bruce had suggested (or perhaps he was killing off whole species in other corners of the universes, like Clint proclaimed, but somehow Tony doubted it). Natasha’s just-in-passing comment that Loki was being true to his word had led him to believe that Loki was using all of his incredible power for something closer to good than evil.

Not that he didn’t have himself a great deal of evil (lewd, sexy, erotic) fantasies whenever he found himself in Loki’s presence. After all, Loki was snarky, highly intelligent, curious, and incredibly talented with his hands...

Just like now, when he’d turned towards his cutting board and proceeded to cut some onions with the precision, speed and skill of a machine. Tony watched his hands move with interest, and if he was more focused on those long, nimble fingers than the future meal, well, no one else could tell.

Except Loki, apparently.

“Do you still fancy my fingers around your neck, Stark?”

Tony gulped as he pictured Loki backing him into one of those floor-to-ceiling windows and lifting him off the ground with one hand, the other unlacing his own pants and directing one of Tony’s hands to his hard, cold cock. He would demand that Tony touch him and stroke him, and Tony would, his brain leaking out of his ears as he gasped for air and ached for some release himself, gripping Loki’s cock and watching Loki’s face for any sign that he was doing well, that the god's cool veneer was cracking because of Tony's own skills at driving others crazy…

“Really, that much?”

Tony shook his head to try and get Window Fantasy #425 loose. It didn’t work as intended and instead, he found his focus shifting to Loki’s lips. Supple. Wet-looking. That mouth would look even more indecent (even more gorgeous) stretched around his cock for sure.

“Do you ever think of anything beside sex, Stark?”

“I’m not thinking about sex,” Tony immediately denied.

Loki arched a brow, clearly not convinced, and replaced the perfectly sliced onions on his cutting board with fresh lettuce. Tony rubbed his thighs together, doing his best to bring his mind out of the gutter, but the bastard clearly wanted to drown there. He sighed. He was too sleep-deprived to have any chance at winning against his baser instincts. The best he could do was sit there and wait until his hard-on had abated, and then retreat to his room and wank off like mad until he could get a bit of shut-eye before another lab binge.

At least that was the plan.

Fuck you, Loki.

The god was tearing the lettuce into smaller pieces with such grace and sensuality that for all intents and purposes, he might as well have been a masseur in the red-light district. Tony was sure that Loki would make an excellent masseur, had he not been bound to whatever oath he’d sworn to Space Pirate 1 and 2. If Loki was a masseur, Tony would book him for life.

“You’re still thinking about sex.”

Tony hated how he couldn’t keep quiet. His moan was not loud, but Loki had a keen hearing, and the mocking (scorching?) glance he sent his way let him know he’d been heard.

“’m just thinking about my fucking suit.”

“Are you sure, Stark?”

Loki began to toss a few strands of lettuce into a giant glass bowl, which had just appeared out of nowhere. Had he been a little bit more awake, Tony would have asked all kinds of questions about those pocket universes to which he knew Loki had unlimited access.

Right now, he could think of only one thing, and it caused his cock to swell even further.

“’just really want to toss your salad, that’s all,” he muttered.

Loki’s nonplussed expression startled a laugh out of him.

“If you’re so intent on being useful… by all means, Stark.”

Tony didn’t stop laughing as he found himself with a glass bowl and a pile of lettuce leaves.

*

Dinner had been a quiet affair, and Tony rode the elevator up to his penthouse with a sated stomach and only fifty percent of his brain reviewing erotic fantasies. He was dead tired as he exited the lift, but in a great mood nonetheless. He was eager to pass out in his bed, but not so eager that he didn’t consider taking a shower first. He thought about touching himself to the thought of Loki hearing his words, ‘want to toss your salad’, of those green eyes darkening as the meaning dawned on him. He pictured the god’s lean form on the kitchen counter, those mile-long legs spread out to expose his pucker, and Tony felt a rush of heat in his groin as he fantasized going down on the god, licking at his exposed intimacy until Loki began to moan, thrusting his tongue deep inside that tight heat until it was his name on Loki’s lips, a plea for more, faster, harder…

He was rubbing his erection through his pants as he shouldered the door to his bedroom opened, reached for the hem of his shirt and…

… stopped dead in his tracks.

Loki was lying in his bed, completely naked, legs spread indecently far. He was fully hard (and thick and long, gorgeous), but he wasn’t touching himself; instead, he’d placed both hands under his head and watched Tony with heavy-lidded eyes, clearly expectant. And aroused.

Tony’s brain screeched to a halt.

“What are you… Am I dreaming?”

“Would you like for this to be a dream, Stark?”

Tony swallowed hard. His cock twitched against his palm. He dropped his hand, exposing the bulge to Loki’s eyes, which immediately narrowed in interest.

“I…” Tony felt his face flush. “I want…”

“You should tell me of your desires, instead of hiding behind all that 'slang', Stark. If you wish to worship my ass, as you mortals put it, you have but to tell me. Come here.”

Like an automaton, Tony hurried to the bed. Loki reached for him with one hand and cupped his cheek. Tony moaned and turned his head to kiss his palm, and then lick in between his fingers. He sucked two of them into his mouth.

“Such a good boy, Stark. Now give me that gift of yours.”

Tony didn’t need to be told twice; he settled on his knees, took hold of Loki’s legs and pressed his face between the god’s ass cheeks.

Loki’s breath hitched as Tony’s lips ghosted over the rim of muscles. Tony grinned as he darted out his tongue to lick a first line, wet and light, across his hole. Those pink muscles fluttered as if in impatience.

“Oh, I am going to eat you all right, beautiful,” he heard himself say in a low voice. “Has someone ever fucked your ass with their tongue before?”

“What do you take me for, Stark?” Loki snapped. “I am a thousand years old and I did- ah, yes, more, Stark!”

That’s what I thought, Tony mused quietly as he pressed his whole mouth over Loki’s hole. The god was so responsive; it made the experience all the more satisfying. Tony never minded going down on someone, but he might have dreamed of doing this to Loki for months, and the pent-up frustration had shown in his dreams and through many a failed experiment. Right now, though, with Loki’s scent all he could smell and taste, the god’s moan all he could hear, he felt so awake, so delighted, that his weariness simply ceased to be.

“Stark, Stark… Oh, Stark!”

Loki chanted his name as Tony dipped his tongue into his hole, and when a huge crack announced the early demise of his bed, Tony’s only reaction was to thrust his tongue as far as it would go, caressing those soft muscles from the inside, licking every inch of Loki that he could reach, and taste. With his lips, he sucked on Loki’s ass, and once he was sure that the god would not snap his neck by accident, he brought a thumb to the rim, massaging it as he continued to work at it with his tongue and lips. His other hand reached for Loki’s balls, kneading them. They were cool, soft and hairless, and Tony made a mental note to give them some attention later.

“Such a good boy,” Loki gasped. “Yes, just like that, your tongue- By the Norns, fuck me like you mean it, Stark!”

Tony wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, but between one moment and the next, Loki was fucking himself on his tongue, hips snapping furiously. Tony’s jaw was starting to ache, but those noises Loki was making drove him wild, and he knew he was close, just as close as the god was. He realized that he was rutting on the mattress but didn’t stop, and dipped the tip of his index finger in Loki’s hole, sliding it in and out in time with his tongue.

Loki howled. Tony drew back his tongue, thrusting a second finger alongside the first, and hit Loki’s prostate on the third try. He nailed it again and again as he sucked around the rim, making all manners of wet noises. Loki’s hips rocked harder now, sucking Tony’s fingers inside himself like he needed them, and Tony let himself have it all; he fucked Loki with his fingers and sucked on his rim until the god cried out in rapture. Letting go of his prize at once, Tony pinned Loki’s hips to the bed and pulled that thick cock head of his into his mouth to get every drop of alien release.

Loki’s seed was thick and musky, and Tony swallowed it all.

“You did need help in the kitchen,” were the first words that left his mouth.

Loki growled at him. Tony yelped in surprise as the god lifted him as if he weighed nothing and tugged at Tony’s still hard cock, lining it with his hole.

“We all need a willing partner sometimes,” Loki moaned in his ear.

Tony didn’t even need to thrust; the god was lifting him off his lap and pulling him down again, treating him like a giant flesh doll to bring himself off a second time.

Tony went along willingly.

"Fuck, you feel as good as you taste."

Loki fucking mewled. Tony's hands turned to fists over Loki's thighs behind his back. He could read the hunger in Loki’s eyes, the desire that seemed to grow with each collision of their selves, and he careened over the edge with a groan, shooting his load deep into Loki’s ass. The god followed suit, painting both their stomachs with his creamy seed.

“I think I like your mouth on me,” Loki mused a few moments later, cleaning their mess with a quiet spell. “And your fingers. They are clever.”

Tony pouted, but his yawn ruined the effect. “Don’t you like my cock better?”

Loki smacked him upside the head. “Go to sleep before that mouth of yours brings you nothing but trouble, Stark.”

“If trouble is my mouth on your cock, Loki, I'm all for it."

“My, you are greedy, Stark," Loki chuckled. Then, voice earnest again, he whispered: "Sleep, Stark. I want to rest now, you greedy mortal."

“Yours,” Tony mumbled sleepily, one arm wrapping possessively around Loki’s waist. “Your mortal, Loki.”