In the end, and after much debate, Brock took Steve to the party. Not Jack’s scene, those things. Those things all about showing off and flaunting yourself, groping strangers in dark rooms, watching random other guys get beaten. Not Jack’s scene.
So he’d sat in his chair and casually observed them getting ready. Brock first, in the bathroom forever, shaving everything and then squeezing into rubber pants that rode so low on his hips that the top of his dick was almost visible, and straps across his chest and gloves up to his elbows and high, glossy boots, one with a riding crop tucked into it, like some kind of ultimate fag daddy. But when Brock had emerged like this, resplendent, Jack had rolled his eyes and gone straight back to Anna Karenina, without a single comment.
Brock had stayed there, in the doorway, waiting for something. Some derogatory remark, probably, or maybe something more tangible, a bruise on his face to finish the look, perhaps. Or a split lip. Jack shivered a little at the thought of it, but instead delighted himself by ignoring the tedious fucker, wounding the cunt’s precious pride.
Rogers, when he emerged, looked even more appalling, in fucking eyeliner and a great iron collar that a normal man wouldn’t be able to wear for more than twenty minutes. Plus fucking chaps, with his fucking ass hanging out, and if Jack had been in the mood, he would have made Rogers go and fetch that fucking kohl crayon he’d used to make his eyes look so big and so fuck-hungry, and write on the cunt’s ass. Write ‘fuck hole’ or ‘rape here’ or ‘available for rent’. Some such shit. But he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t in the mood for any of it.
All he wanted was to be left alone. Left alone to smoke and read and listen to music and drink bourbon and not hear a single fucking whine of ‘daddy, please fuck me, daddy, please fuck me up’ or what the fuck fucking ever.
And he got it. Got just that. Got his peace. Or did, for a while, until he heard a noise. A small, soft clatter coming from the kitchen. Jack stood up. He could move silently, even in the big boots he was wearing; the new living room rug, thick enough to muffle his footsteps.
In the kitchen, a man was perched on the counter. A slight, dark-haired man in a fancy-assed green robe and a gold fucking horned helmet, a man who smiled as Jack stopped in the doorway. Smiled and said, “Hello darling. I was so hoping it would be you.”
Jack looked around the otherwise, unchanged kitchen. Dishes draining, countertops wiped, a tiny spec of something on the floor that Brock had missed earlier. Jack had spotted that when he’d come in for his liquor half an hour ago. Left it there, thinking how he’d watch Brock clean it up later. Everything normal, except, right next to the stove, this fucking cunt in a fucking halloween outfit. Jack was not happy about that. Not happy at all. “What would be me?” he said, leaning up against the door frame and crossing his arms over his sleeveless shirt.
“Oh,” the creature said, “that it would be you who was home to greet me. Although,” he leant forward, “between you and me, I knew it would be. I,” he made a little moue with his mouth, “I know everything.”
Jack nodded. “Then you’ll know I am having a nice quiet evening alone. You wouldn’t believe how rare that is for me. I have two full time fags to keep happy. Daddy gets tired. I ain’t got a bitch vacancy. So, whatever you are, whoever you are, fuck off.
“Shame.” The creature looked like he found this amusing. “What if I had a rather thrilling offer for you?”
“Doubt it, princess.”
“Oh come on, there must be some things you’re just dying to try. What with what you are.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “What am I?”
“You? Sweetheart, you’re a top.”
At this, Jack almost rolled his eyes. “Nah, you piece of shit, nah. Your infos out of fucking date. I’m just a guy. A guy with a few skills that I put to use sometimes if people ask me nice. And you didn’t ask me nice, faggot, so fuck off.”
Next to the creature, on the countertop was a bowl of fruit. They all liked to drink juice and make protein shakes. They kept a lot of fruit in the apartment. The creature took an apple and brought it to his mouth, biting a huge chunk from it and chewing in a way that seemed to draw attention to his lips and teeth and tongue. Jack shifted his weight. Through the mouthful of chewed apple flesh, the creature said,“Does Brock Rumlow ask you nice? Does Steve Rogers?”
Jack shrugged, trying to ignore the display with the apple. “On occasion. An’ I ain’t past doing a few things I know will make those little faggots’ ugly little faces light up. What the fuck are you? What do you know about Rumlow?”
The creature spat a mouthful of chewed apple onto the floor in the middle of the room, halfway between Jack and himself. “I know you’d be sad if he, oh I don’t know, got a terrible illness. Say, something fatal and debilitating, yet slow.”
Jack looked at the mess of chewed apple on the floor. It was glowing green. Power was crackling in the air, but Jack crackled too. He kept his face expressionless. “Is that a threat?”
The god, for Jack was certain that was what he had in front of him, he’d seen files - files he wasn’t authorised to see, as it happened - the god smiled an impish sort of smile, “It’s a promise, baby.”
“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “Okay.” Jack Rollins had seen enough fucked up stuff that he didn’t doubt this was really happening. But this was a level up, a significant level up, from anything he’d encountered before. He sucked his top teeth and considered. This creature could probably stop time, could probably turn him inside out, could probably hurt Brock. This creature was a fight Jack could never, ever win. However, there was a lot to be said for an unwinnable fight. And so Jack, Jack smiled. Jack smiled and he picked up a box of toothpicks from the counter beside him, thumbed it open and flipped one into his mouth like it was the smoke he really wanted. Then he sucked on it, slow and let his gaze roll down the creature’s body to the spot where it’s thighs met. “What do you want then? Cunt.”
“I keep tabs on certain things. You blip my radar. You top Captain America. You top the guy who tops Captain America. Someone told me you topped your own fucking HYDRA initiation, but that seems frankly ridiculous.” Jack swelled a little at this, while Loki extended a long arm and inspected his fingernails. “But it does make me wonder, whatever could thrill an old whore like you?”
Jack looked at the glowy, transcendental figure perched on the kitchen counter. He pulled back his shoulders, “What?”
“Topping a god.”
At this, Jack almost groaned out loud with irritation, but instead he managed to say, “Oh seriously? That’s your offer? Do fuck off, god of fags.” As he spoke he manoeuvred the toothpick to the other side of his mouth with a flicker of his tongue that he knew was obvious.
“I am that, actually,” The creature said brightly.
“I’m Loki of Asgard and I am the god of fags. As it happens. Built me an altar lately?”
Jack gave a single syllable chuckle. “Really. I bet daddy is so fucking proud.”
And, at that, there was a tiny cloud in the god’s eyes. Jack smiled as Loki realised what he’d seen. Smiled and said, “I get it sweetheart. I see your deal.” He shook his head and added, half to himself, “Fuck me, not another one.”
“Another what?” Loki said tightly.
Jack tossed the toothpick, pushed off the doorway and stepped into the kitchen, avoiding the apple on the floor. He advanced to towards Loki on long legs. When he was close enough, he put on finger in the middle of Loki’s chest. His voice was low and nasty. “Another stupid little fag pussy with daddy issues wanting me to treat him to some hands on fucking therapy.” He bunched his fist in Loki’s green robes and yanked him forward, slipping him to the edge of the counter. Loki gasped and Jack jammed his other hand between Loki’s thighs. The fabric of his robe there was smooth as liquid. “That right,” Jack hissed. “That’s right, my beautiful fairy queen? Didn’t daddy love you?” He kept the pressure light, made Loki buck up and work for it.”
Loki’s voice was cracking as he thrust into Jack’s touch, but it was cold. “No. Not like that. I don’t want that. Take your hands off me, human. I could make you obey me, a mindless slave, for the rest of your life.”
“I think we’ve established that. You could have me on my knees all, yes master, no master. You’d like that? Course you fucking wouldn’t. Think I can’t see that you stupid god cunt? That bores your little faggy heart half to death. You don’t want an eternity of that. Sounds fucking exhausting.”
Loki pressed his lips into a thin line, even while he was pressing and pressing into Jack’s hand. “I could turn you into a fucking frog. I could turn you into your own boyfriend’s fucking asshole.”
Jack pressed harder, pulled Loki closer, pulled him so close their mouths almost touched. “I don’t doubt that you could. But also, you could get on your fucking knees in front of me and beg for my cock.”
“And why would I do that?”
Jack smiled. “Because, cunt, it’s a helluva long way you’ve come not to get what you came here for.” And he kissed Loki once, hard on the lips, then snapped back while he was gasping and stepped away, making space between himself and the counter. With lust-heavy black eyes on Jack’s, Loki slid from the counter without another word, stood straight for a second, and then, jaw set with resentment, lowered himself onto one knee and then both. Set himself kneeling obediently at Jack’s feet.
“Nice,” said Jack, smiling. He flicked his tongue over his lips. “See, was that so complicated? It’s not is it? It’s so, so simple. Now see if you can wrap your dumb cunt mind around this one, what do you want me to do to you, god of fags?”
Loki frowned up. “Don’t you know?”
Jack shrugged. “Never done this with a god before, have I? Gonna need some pointers. Maybe you read minds or what the fuck ever, I don’t fucking know, but I don’t, you stupid queer piece of fucking filth. Tell me what you fucking want me to do to you, you cunt. What fucking disgusting, degrading treatment does your shitty heart want, you perverted asshole?”
Loki shivered. “Just, do what ever you want to me,” he whispered, dropping his gaze to the ground.
“Yeah. No.” Jack grabbed Loki by the face, one hand tight around his jaw and lifted his chin, made him look Jack in the eye. “Say that again and I’ll go back to my book, cocksucker,” he said, then spat, quick and vicious on Loki’s face. Loki gasped as it hit his cheek and Jack squeezed his jaw tighter and sneered out, “What do you fucking want? Tell me. Fucking beg for it.”
Loki didn’t even attempt to wipe Jack’s spit away. His eyes were glassy. “Please,” he said, “I’m nothing. I’m worth nothing. Make me feel it.”
“Just so you know,” Jack whispered, bending closer, “that was nowhere near good enough. But as you’re the most useless piece of fucking filth I’ve ever encountered I’ll give you one chance. Any fag else, I’d let kiss my boots right now, to thank me for letting them be used and controlled, not you filth, you can kiss the ground I’m fucking standing on. And don’t fuck it up.” Jack felt Loki shiver against his thighs. He moved his hand from his face and slipped it up to twist in Loki’s hair, still forcing Loki to look up at him. For a second, he pretended to think. “Although,” he said eventually, “first, ask to do it. Ask to kiss the ground I fucking walk on, fag, because i’m kinda unsure this is what you want and I’d hate to be turned into a frog. Maybe you’d better beg to do it before i let you, just so I know I’m safe and you really want this.”
“Oh fuck you,” Loki choked out, through heavy, wanting breaths.
Jack said nothing. Jack looked into Loki’s black eyes and waited.
Loki’s face was a terrible mix of arousal and anger. After a moment he said, very quietly, “Please sir, may I,” - he stopped and swallowed like this hurt - “may I kiss the ground you walk on?”
Jack quirked a smile like this was amusing, “What? Really? You, a god, wants to kiss the ground a human walks on?”
“Yes,” Loki panted out. “Yes, yes i do, please. Please let me. Please make me. Fucking make me.”
Jack flexed his shoulders and let go of Loki’s hair, shoving him towards to floor. “I see. Get on with it then, you useless fuckhole.”
“Thank you sir,” Loki said on breath. He ducked down and Jack felt a small crackle of magic around his ankles. He grabbed Loki’s hair and yanked his head back up. Loki’s eyes met his, face breathless. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Jack hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare levitate me off the floor, cocksucker. Get your fucking hands dirty.”
Loki nodded, eyes slightly teary and Jack let him put his face back on the floor. He lifted one of Jack’s boots carefully, and kissed the tile beneath it, turning his head so Jack could see. “Show me your tongue,” Jack snarled, soft, and Loki’s tongue flickered out and licked over the ground Jack walked on. Loki moaned. “Good,” said Jack, “now the other.”
This time, when Loki took hold of his ankle, Jack didn’t move his foot; he kept it firmly planted on the ground until Loki sobbed out, “Please. Please, please.”
“Please sir, please let me lift your boot off the floor so I can kiss the ground you walk on.”
“And why do you want to do that?”
“Because I’m nothing. Because you’re my master, sir and I want to show you how worthless I am,” Loki wailed.
“Heh, cute,” said Jack. He let Loki lift his boot and placed it on Loki’s back as Loki kissed and licked the floor and moaned to do it. “Fucking slut,” Jack muttered, pressing him down until he yelped.
When Jack let Loki sit up and back and look up at him, Jack said, “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it, faggot? Now shall we be on our merry way? Bid you a jolly goodnight?”
Loki looked horrified. “What? No?”
“Was that not, what you wanted?” Jack asked innocently.
“No! I want more than just that.” There was panic in Loki’s voice. “Much more. Make me strip for you. Punish me for my weakness. Make me crawl to your bedroom, shove your dick down my throat. Then fuck me. Please, sir, please fuck me.”
“Daddy,” Jack said, quietly.
“Please fuck me, daddy.”
“No,” said Loki. “No, not that. Human, my father is Odin. If you think for a second I would disgrace all Asgard by calling you a title I call him, you are gravely mistaken.”
In response to this, Jack smiled, “We’ll see. Get your fucking clothes off.”
Loki got up and dropped his robe. It felt from him in one beautiful, frictionless glide. Jack looked his pale, ethereal body up and down, slowly and whispered, “Jesus, fuck.”
Loki sighed, whispered. “Thank you, sir.”
“No more fucking talking you piece of shit. Get back on the floor.” Loki dropped, kneeling on the puddle of green fabric. He looked at Jack, shivering, ashamed of being naked. “Yeah. Good,” said Jack. “Now get in the fucking bedroom. And you can fucking crawl.”
Loki crawled prettily, ass swaying. Jack followed, watching that ass. He was hard now. It had taken a while, but looking at this pathetic, desperate god crawling into his bedroom, he was ready. Ready to fuck it and enjoy every fucking scream and whimper and, especially, to enjoy the moment he broke this fag enough that he called Jack ‘daddy’. Because he would. He would. They always did.
In the bedroom, Jack sat down on the bed. Loki knelt on the floor in front of him. “You’re turning me on, slut,” Jack said, palming his hard dick through his jeans. “Got any ideas about what I should do about that.”
“Make me,” Loki swallowed. “Make me suck it, sir. Make me suck your dick.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “You deserve that, do you?”
“No sir, no.” Loki dipped his head and started kissing over Jack’s boots desperately. “No. I deserve nothing. I am nothing. But please, please let me.”
“Good fucking god, you do repeat yourself, don’t you faggot. Okay. I’m feeling generous. Get it out. No fucking hands. And no fucking magic or you know what’ll do?”
Loki sat up. “What?”
“I’ll keep you in here, naked, all evening and when my fucking fags get home, me and Brock’ll watch you suck Rogers’s fucking cock.”
Loki almost smiled. “You wouldn’t.”
Jack smirked back. “It’s like you don’t know me at all. Now, faggot, use you fucking slut mouth and get my dick out. Let’s see if you’re as much of a disgusting cocksucker as you appear to be.”
“Yes sir,” Loki said, and got to work. The zipper of Jack’s jeans was hard to work open with his teeth, but he grunted and kept trying until it finally slid down. Then he nosed forward and drew out Jack’s dick, swallowing it down his throat easy.
“So we’re practised at this, are we?” Jack drawled. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Whore like you. Bet you get on your fucking knees every chance you get. Bet you get passed around Asgard like a convenient hole for any fucking dick that wants it.” He grabbed Loki by the hair and held him down on his dick, fucking up into his throat, making him buck and whine. One of Loki’s hands drifted between his legs. “No you fucking don’t, whore,” Jack barked out, bucking up again, fucking Loki’s face. “You put those fucking hands behind your back. I don’t care how much being used like this is turning you on. You touch your fucking self and I’ll fucking cut it off, cunt. No one wants to see that fucking shit.”
Loki clasped his hands behind him with a whimper.
After a few more vicious thrusts, Jack yanked Loki, gasping, right off his dick, still holding him by the hair. Loki’s mouth was red and swollen, spit and precome were dripping down his chin. His tongue was out, as if he was stretching desperately, trying to get his mouth back on Jack’s dick. Jack laughed and bucked his hips towards Loki’s face, grazing his bottom lip with the tip of his dick. Loki moaned, choked out, “Please,” tugging at Jack’s grip on his hair, desperate to get that dick back in his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah, I get that you’re as hungry for dick as any slut has ever been,” said Jack. “But if I come down your throat how the fuck am I gonna fuck you blind, you fucking dumb fucking fuck hole.”
Loki looked away from Jack’s dick and up at his face, “Sir. Sir, really?”
“You gonna beg for it nice, faggot? You gonna beg for my dick in your fucking hole?”
“Yes sir, yes.”
“Real nice? Real fucking nice. You gonna make it really clear for me how much of a slut you are? How much you fucking need this? That you’re a fucking slut that needs to get fucked and fucked hard?”
“Yes sir. Please. Yes.”
“Good. But I don’t let filth like you in my bed. Bend over that, whore.” Jack pointed at Brock’s vanity unit in the corner of the room. Jack had laughed at it for hours the day Brock had moved in. Pressing Brock up against the wall beside it, thigh between his legs. “What’s this fucking Marie Antoinette shit, you cunt?” Brock had been hard and liquid in his hands. Defiant and dry mouthed when he’d said, “You’ll like it.” And then Brock had showed Jack how the vanity was the perfect height for Brock to be fucked over. And Jack had watched them both, their faces in the mirror as he fucked into Brock, Brock yelling and keening, jerking his ass for more, begging for it harder… and, after that, Jack wouldn’t hear a word against Brock’s vanity.
Loki swallowed as he bent over the unit, naked and exposed, his pale ass, sticking up in the air like it was begging for a dick. Jack took his time strolling over. Made him wait, made him watch himself in the mirror, vulnerable; but then, when he got close, dropped to his knees on the carpet behind Loki and licked one long stripe right up the crack of his ass, making Loki yell and rattle the vanity.
“Nice,” Jack said. “I’m gonna fucking lick you open for me now, hole. Try not to break the fucking glass.” Jack licked again. He knew Loki would still be watching himself in the vanity mirror. Would be unable to resist watching his own face as Jack forced this pleasure on him. Over and over. Over and over until Loki was writhing.
And eventually said, “Fuck me,” jerking his ass back as he spoke, right into Jack’s mouth. Jack drove his tongue into him. Loki moaned out.
“What’s that, fag?” Jack said, the words sounding obscene as he spoke right into Loki’s twitching, needy hole. “It’s hard to hear, back here.”
“I know you fucking heard me,” Loki snarled. “Fuck me.”
“Like this,” Jack said, thrusting his hard tongue in and out of Loki’s hole.
Loki keened and pressed back. “Please,” he whispered. But Jack went back to licking, long lazy strokes, that barely grazed over Loki’s hole at all. “Please,” Loki choked out again. “Please fuck me. Please, sir, please.”
“Maybe later,” said Jack. “Right now I’m busy doing this” - another long lick - “Jesus your thighs are shaking, slut. You look like you’d fucking come all over yourself if I just touched the tip of my dick to your fucking hole.” Jack dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s so red, your filthy fucking hole. I’ve never seen a hole that needed a dick this much. You were made to be fucked, faggot. Made for my dick.” And Jack pushed one finger into Loki, standing up behind him so he could see himself, over Loki’s helpless, panting face, in Brock’s mirror.
Loki was close to tears. He looked up at Jack’s reflection. “I could fucking make you fuck me. I could.”
“And waste this wonderful evening? I don’t think so.” A snarl then. “Fucking beg me. Beg for my dick, slut.”
“Please, sir,” Loki managed, sobbing now and hardly able to speak at all as Jack slipped the finger in and out. “Please sir, fuck me.”
“Sir? How ‘bout you call me what you’re fucking panting to call me, hole.”
“No! No, no. I can’t.” But this was half bitten off and ended in a moan.
“We both know you’re gonna say it, cunt. But I dunno how long you’re planning on taking to get around to it and I ain’t immortal. So how about you hurry things along and just do it now. I know you’re desperate to hear how it sounds, to feel that in your fucking fag mouth. Call me daddy, slut. Call me daddy and I’ll fuck you.”
Loki squeezed his eyes shut. Jack watched him take a shaky breath. “Please fuck me. Daddy. Daddy, please.”
“Heh.” With that, Jack shoved into Loki, hard, watching his face in the mirror as he tried to breathe through it. Tried not to yell and beg as Jack went straight to the fastest hardest pace possible, shaking the entire vanity, Brock’s hair products and face creams, toppling over and clattering onto the floor.
“Daddy,” Loki sobbed, “daddy please.”
Jack reached down and slapped Loki’s thigh. “What do you want, cunt. Beg me.”
“Harder,” Loki sobbed, putting his head down on his folded arms. “Harder, daddy. Fuck me harder.”
Jack took hold of the tops of Loki’s thighs, gripping tight, hard enough to bruise. Or to bruise a human, certainly. He steadied Loki and slammed into him, drawing him back slightly onto his dick, as he fucked Loki so hard it was like he was trying to break him in two.
There was a small photograph of Brock and Rogers on the vanity mirror. Tiny, taken with some experimental camera Brock had been playing with. Brock was kissing Rogers on the temple, camera in one outstretched arm. Rogers face on, defiant, shirtless, with great nasty clamps on his tits. There was a massive bruise on his jaw, purple and black and another over his left eye. He was wearing some elaborate gag. Something Brock bought. Metal and leather, jamming his mouth open. It looked like something you’d use to do dental surgery on a horse and it was making Rogers drool like a fucking bitch and Brock had one hand hooked over Rogers’s chin, a finger pressing into Rogers’s helpless mouth. Looking at that picture, nearly took Jack over the edge. He pulled out of Loki and jerked, quick and nasty, over his bare back. Then scooped up a handful of his mess, leaned over and smeared it carefully over Brock and Rogers’s dumb fucking faces.
The front door banged open then, Brock, crying out, “Hi honey. We’re home!” Right as Jack looked at him in the photograph, Jack’s come dripping off him.
Jack started and found himself opening his eyes, still in his chair. Book on the floor and smoke burned out in the ashtray. He blinked and looked around, almost didn’t get a grasp on himself before Rogers and Brock bowled in, bright eyed. Rogers had a love bite that covered half his left tit and they both smelt very faintly of piss.
Jack looked at them, took a sharp breath through his nose to pull himself together and muttered, “Dear god,” as he reached for a new smoke.