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overlap sundials with your shadows

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It was achingly hot.

Not only had the stupid, pompous, ridiculous party had to held outdoors, it was being hosted by the most recent addition to the 'twenty richest men alive' list, or whatever the fuck it was, and so Tony was obligated (Pepper's words, naturally) to attend. So, not only was Tony going to have to deal with yuppie, sycophantic brats all evening, he was going to have to do it without alcohol, because Pepper had refused to allow Tony to commandeer Happy to drive him to Nevada.

He had survived the party. Just. Tony figured that that, in and of itself, was such an extraordinary feat that nature ought to owe him some kind of boon in return, just to correct the balance of the universe; but, apparently, nature figured that he had yet to suffer enough, because the party had been held in the goddamned desert, and now there was sand inside his car, and the air conditioning was broken.

Barrelling down the freeway at twice the speed limit with the windows of the Jeep down hadn't helped. Tony was now fairly certain that there was more sand in his lungs than in his shoes.

He caught something shifting in the rear-view, and when he looked it showed Loki sitting in the passenger seat. In the next moment, he was there in actuality, long fingers wrapped around the helmet in his lap. (Tony was grateful that he'd decided to remove it before appearing in his car, because the horns would have ripped a hole in his ceiling and he was rather fond of it. Not least because it was supposed to be raining back in LA. And then he recognised that that probably wasn't the most helpful first thought to be having, considering the circumstances.)

"The air conditioning isn't working," Loki said, by way of greeting, and Tony glared at the road behind his sunglasses. At least, he would have done, if the sentiment didn't take far too much energy to complete.

"I hadn't noticed," he said, instead, his voice scathing. Loki glanced sideways at him, and Tony could see the rise of a smirk around his mouth as he took in the way that Tony had stripped down to his tuxedo shirt, and even that was drenched with sweat and sticking to him.

Loki reached out on hand, and touched a fingertip to the fan grill. Immediately, icy air swept through the car, swamping Tony with a chill that his skin drank in desperately. He shifted in his seat, feeling the blessed cool slide between his skin and the car seat; it prickled the hair at the nape of his neck, and Tony felt his gut clench in relief.

"So," he said, his head a lot clearer, "what's the catch?"

Loki raised an eyebrow at him, the movement perfectly arched. "I may be the god of mischief," he said, voice slow as if explaining something to a small child. Tony recognised it as the one he used most often with Thor, "but if everything that I did was a trick, then how would I lull you into a false sense of security?"

Which Tony couldn't argue with, really.

He was still being watched, Loki's expression amused with an overlay of – something else, that twisted a tight knot in Tony's stomach. Cold crept over his skin like questing, ghostly fingers, and Loki smiled.

"Pull over," he said, and Tony shot him a look.

"Why?" he asked. "The engine's got a fuckton of sand in it; if I turn it off I don't know whether it'll fire again –"

"Because," Loki said, his voice impassive and even, as if he was commenting on the weather, "otherwise I'm going to ride you whilst you're driving, and that steering wheel was not built to provide a comfortable backrest."

Tony's foot slipped on the accelerator, and the car jerked as the speed dropped momentarily, evening out as Tony regained motor control and steered the car onto the desert surrounding the road.

He had barely finished the manoeuvre before he found Loki in his lap, his seat having somehow already slid back as far as the bearings would allow so that the Asgardian could fit on top of him; the driver-side door was open, hot air slamming into the cold front of the car and the temperature shock had Tony groan into Loki's mouth.

Tony's fingers caught against the emergency brake as he dragged his hands over Loki's legs; the other one met open air, where Loki had clearly opened the door to allow him to tuck his heels against Tony's knees and rock forwards into his lap.

"Said something," Tony said, slightly breathless, "about riding me."

Loki hummed, apparently in thought. "Loki lies," he breathed against Tony's mouth, and smirked when he felt the disappointed scowl begin to form. "You should listen more carefully, Mr Stark," he said. Tony rolled his eyes.

"I listen," he said. "False sense of security."

"Precisely," Loki said, and pushed a hand down past Tony's waistband to wrap long fingers around his cock.

"Come on," Tony groaned (definitely didn't whine), trying to move his hips against Loki's hand and palm Loki's arse at the same time. "Come on; God damn it, Loki –"

"What're you going to do?" Loki said, voice serpent-smooth. "Tell my brother?"

Tony only grunted as Loki pulled one of his hands around, and pushed two fingers into his mouth. Everything about Loki seemed to be cold, even his tongue as he sucked on Tony's fingers and coated them in saliva. Tony pulled them out of Loki's mouth slowly, his thumb braced in the dimple beneath his lower lip, watching as they slid spit-slick between his lips.

"It's not going to be enough," he said, vaugely, as he reached around to find Loki's arse bare and his trousers somehow folded neatly on the passenger seat.

"You should know better than to question a god, human," Loki said, leaning forward so Tony could slide his fingers inside him.

"Don't get all powerplay with me," Tony said, crooking his fingers and feeling Loki's breath stutter across his face.

"And here I was, thinking you have a dominance kink," Loki said, pushing Tony's hand out of him by his elbow, and rocking forwards to angle the head of Tony's cock against his entrance.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tony said, his voice rather more strangled that he would have liked as Loki sank down onto him. He got an eyebrow raise in return.

"Don't come until I tell you," Loki said. Tony's cock twitched and his toes curled. Treachery, he thought, even as a keen escaped him when Loki started to swivel his hips. Tight, sharp circles, and Tony was fairly certain that the movement was rubbing hard against his prostate, if the short huffs of breath, edged with what might be moaning, were anything to go by.

The muscles in his thighs were trembling with the effort of not fucking up into Loki. Loki was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, the pale iris almost entirely concealed beneath eyelashes and wide-blown pupils. He kept licking his lips, tongue flicking out to wet them over and over until Tony couldn't stand it, and fisted the hair at the back of Loki's head to tug him forward into a kiss.

Loki was deliberately not playing fair, twisting his tongue into Tony's mouth with a dextricity that shouldn't be allowed; sucking on Tony's tongue when he pushed back. Tony's hips were moving of their own accord, fucking up infintessimally into Loki as his hand slid out of Loki's hair to smooth down over his shoulder and rub a thumb over his nipple, the rough pad circling over and over the small, hard peak until Loki was groaning into Tony's mouth and rutting against his stomach.

"Please," Tony said, his voice hoarse with the strain of trying to still his hips. "Please. I want to fuck you. God."

"Yes," said Loki, his eyes flashing and the roof of the Jeep screamed as it tore apart, opening the interior to the blazing sky and the slow build of traffic as the rest of the party guests began their journeys back to civilisation. Tony dug his fingers into Loki's hips and started to set a punishing rhythm; Loki rolled his hips down, clenching around him and Tony swore. It wasn't enough, he needed more: he always needed more, was more than tempted to blame Loki for doing something to him, for causing an insatiable desire for sensation; he sank his teeth into the pale, unmarked flesh of Loki's chest, and felt his orgasm build within him.

"Not yet," Loki said, tugging on his hair. "Play the gentlemen, Tony."

Tony groaned, although it was high and wanton enough to be called a whimper; but he wrapped an arm around Loki's waist to hold him still and pressed his head against Loki's chest, watching as he wrapped his hand around Loki's cock and began to jerk him off. Loki stroked through his hair as he did, making quiet, encouraging noises that Tony heard even over the slap of skin on skin and the occasional roar of traffic.

Loki came in thick lines over Tony's fist and stomach and trousers, and Tony stroked him through it, turning his head to suck one of Loki's nipples into his mouth as he struggled against his own orgasm. Loki made an appreciative noise at the back of his throat that Tony could feel vibrate through his chest.

"Good boy," he said, still stroking through Tony's hair. "You can come now."

It didn't take Tony long; a hard grip on Loki's hips and a few, bruising thrusts and he came inside Loki with a sob of relief.

He blinked, somnolent, against Loki's chest.

"You broke my car," he said, thickly.

Loki laughed; and Tony was alone, buttoned up and clean, with the car intact and no sign of Loki, except for the steady blast of the air conditioning.