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One night Tony’s pushing Loki toward the bedroom with a look on his face that promises the kind of marathon fuck session that Loki would travel several galaxies for.
Tony gestures for the lights to lower and stands in the middle of the room as the room darkens: “Kick it, Jarv-“
Loki doesn’t know where Tony got the playlist, but lets the music settle into his bones, a smirk slowly spreading across his face as the lyrics start and it’s 100% clear what this music is for.
Without missing a beat he rolls his hips and starts delicately picking at the myriad straps and buckles holding his armor together. He can barely keep it together at the blatant suggestiveness of the song, but the beat is good and Tony is laughing and reaching for him and pulling him into bed and they’re laughing into each other’s mouths and kissing long.
—-
Later, loki’s leaning on the doorframe wearing a cop costume with the shortest booty shorts ever twirling a pair of furry hot pink cuffs. They’re already on round three and they’re light as air, panting as much from the evening’s vigor as they are from laughing. Tony’s rolling around on the bed moaning about how he’s being such a bad boy and Loki’s growling as he stalks across the room and demanding Tony put his hands behind his back.
Far be it for anyone to say Tony has issues with authority, no, he’s melting at Loki’s tone, making pouty faces as he turns around, hands dutifully clasped behind his back. They’re both giggling as the cuffs click closed around his wrists, pink fuzz bright even in the dim room. Loki smacks his ass for impudence and reads him a cheesily sexy version of the Miranda rights.
—-
They’re not done running through Midgard’s laundry list of stupid sex cliches though; when they get bored with the pink handcuffs, Tony bids Loki wait for him on the bed and pulls out the bad-porno mechanic routine. He shows up in the doorway all sweaty, smudges on his face, white tank top smeared with some unindentifiable black grease, flexing.
"Stark, did you honestly run down to your workshop just to put on that getup?"
"Oooo baby I heard you were having …engine trouble" Tony’s grinding his hipbone against the doorway and Loki is biting his lip to keep from cracking. "I thought maybe I could help you, you know, rev it back up”
—-
And of course Loki is impressed with his dedication but it’s nothing to match the moment “London Bridge” starts up. He’s been rolling around on the bed with Tony, whose grease-covered shirt has been flung somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom. They’re both bordering on exhaustion, but Loki perks up at the first “OH SHIT” and this time it’s his turn to grin like a maniac. Loki knows this song. He pulls Tony up to sit on the edge of the bed and starts a positively filthy lap dance, all arrogance and pride, purring the lyrics in tony’s ear.
Of course Tony’s rock hard despite this being probably their tenth round of foreplay (could they even still call it that?) but his brain is struggling to compute how Loki could possibly know the words to this song. And not just the words; Tony’s favorite god and sometimes-maybe-lover has a whole goddamn dance routine for this song. Sometime during the second round of the chorus Loki triplicates and the clones are dancing now too, rowdy and lascivious with each other. It’s too much and Tony falls over on the bed, somewhere between hysteria and too-horny-to-function, chest tight with what could be called love.
Loki just really likes Fergie, okay.