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“Mr. Stark,” says an oil-smooth voice behind him, and that’s as far as Loki gets before Tony spins around, throws his wrench blindly in Loki’s direction, and shouts for Jarvis to lock down the Tower and get the Avengers here.

Loki raises his hands placatingly and walks forward, completely undisturbed by the wrench; Tony glances past him and sees it lying on the floor nowhere near where the path through Loki’s head should have taken it. Loki keeps coming closer, leather coat swaying with every step, and Tony stands his ground because he knows what Loki can do and moving back won’t make any difference to the time it would take Loki to kill him.

“Jarvis…?” he says, because Jarvis hasn’t answered him, and this is bad, very bad.

“Peace, Mr. Stark,” Loki says, and smiles like that might make him look less dangerous. “I am not here to harm you.”

He stops just inside Tony’s personal space bubble, and tilts his head, clearly wondering what Tony’s going to do about it.

Tony faces down media hordes, Fury, and Pepper on a day-to-day basis. He can handle one psychotic Norse god, right? “Well, excuse me for not taking the word of the God of Lies at face value.”

Loki shrugs one shoulder, way too elegantly for his own good. “Believe it or not as you wish, but I seek nothing but a favor.”

“A favor.” Where the hell is his team? And why hasn’t Jarvis said anything?

If the team’s not here by now then they’re not coming, and if Loki’s downed Jarvis then he’s not coming back. Tony’s on his own.

“Yes.” Loki leans in a little bit closer, all menacing height and pretty green eyes-

What the fuck?

Panic, that’s what that was, panic making him think crazy things, because of course Loki’s eyes aren’t pretty, look at them - all bright and deep and emotive, who’d want those?

“I am reliably informed that Stark Industries manufactures the best technology this world has to offer.”

Okay, non-sequitur like whoa. “Yes…”

Loki smiles again. “Thor will tell you that I never settle for anything but the best.”


“I also believe that, for a special fee, the StarkPhone can be custom-built to the buyer’s specifications.”

How does Loki know so much about consumer culture and technology in general and Stark Industries in particular? Thor still doesn’t believe that pop-tarts aren’t made in the supermarket!

“All true.”

“So.” Loki spreads his hands, the picture of reasonableness. “I desire such a phone. As to your fee, I am aware that no amount of money given to you now would make you any richer. I also highly doubt you would wish payment from any sources I have access to. So.”

Then there’s a rush as Loki drops, a thunk as his knees hit the floor, and Tony looks down to see the dark head leaning in towards his crotch and-

Okay, that’s definitely far enough!

“The hell do you think you’re doing?”

Loki tips his head back and meets Tony’s eyes, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical yet graceful arch. “I assumed you wanted payment up front. Was I wrong?”


Oh, right.

Tony’s hands go damp - really his whole body goes damp, and his blood starts swirling down his body to his groin. But even he is not about to take this no questions asked. “Well, yeah, but give a guy some warning.”

Loki sighs like he’s dealing with an idiot, but his glance up isn’t quite as scathing as he was probably aiming for. “I am going to take your cock in my mouth and show you why they call me Silvertongue until you come down my throat. I am going to swallow every drop of your seed and find my own pleasure or not at your command. And when you can stand without shaking, you are going to make me a StarkPhone to my exact description.”


Okay, he’s technically an Avenger, so supplying the enemy probably counts as treason, not to mention he’ll be pulp if Thor ever finds out what Tony’s about to do to his baby brother. But Loki could just buy a phone at any stand in the city, or hold a knife to Tony’s neck instead - it’s not like Tony can actually stop him from getting a phone, and if Tony makes it himself he’ll know exactly what it does.

And Loki looks fantastic down there, on his knees, waiting patiently for Tony’s word, head tipped back so his long black hair looks even longer, showing off the tall pale column of his throat, the tails of his coat spread across the floor-

And Tony’s told the others plenty of times that he’s not a hero.


He is kind of a jerk, though, which is why when he pushes his hips forward, he also stretches his arms up and tucks his hands behind his head.

Loki gives him a little bit of a glare, enough to let Tony know that he’s perfectly aware that Tony’s making him do all the work, but it’s apparently not a deal-breaker. 

Long white fingers reach out for Tony’s belt, pull the end through the loops of his jeans and unbuckle it slowly. Loki’s touch is delicate and measured, perfectly in control, nothing like the crazy wildly-flung spells he prefers to fight them with. Tony’s belt falls open, and Loki takes the button of his jeans and pops it, and leans in and-

And takes the zipper between his teeth and draws it down smoothly, his breath curling over Tony’s cock in his boxers, and maybe Tony hadn’t noticed exactly how hard he was before but now that his jeans suddenly aren’t holding him back, he can tell that he could hammer nails.

Must never mention this to Thor.

Don’t even think about Thor!

Loki’s hands push Tony’s tee a little higher, and slip down over his bared waist to pull his jeans and boxers down in one go. Tony shivers in the sudden coolness of the air, not to mention the realization that this is actually happening, and Loki literally makes a shh noise at him. 

He stops halfway-down Tony’s thighs, just low enough that his clothes won’t get in his way, and sets both hands on Tony’s ass and pulls him forwards as his mouth drops open.

And there’s no way Tony can resist an invitation like that.

He slides slowly into the wet velvet heat of Loki’s mouth and groans, head falling back already, because it feels too good not to, Loki feels too good. His mouth’s wide, not one hint of teeth, just smooth humid soft touches all around him, and Loki’s hands are firm and insistent as they pull him closer, until the head of Tony’s cock bumps the back of Loki’s mouth and Tony jerks at the sudden pressure.

Loki brings his lips down tight around him, about two-thirds to the base, and swallows.

The suction rolls down along his cock like a tsunami and Tony makes some kind of noise he can’t even hear over the pounding of his heart. One of his hands has found the table behind him and it’s probably the only thing keeping him from collapsing, and his other is threaded through Loki’s inky hair.

“Right, okay… Okay.”

Loki moves back and lifts his tongue, licking Tony slowly as he pulls off, and suddenly the air’s so cold and Tony shudders, fists the hand in Loki’s hair, and drags him back down. Loki hums, just a little, barely enough to feel, but it sends shivers up Tony’s spine. He’s still mostly dressed and the tee and jeans are constrictive, far too tight, smothering him. He needs to breathe, to writhe and struggle and lose himself, and fuck into Loki’s mouth until he’s too far gone to even think.

He chokes, and pushes in further, and the resistance at the back of Loki’s mouth just vanishes and he slides down into the clenching tightness of Loki’s throat. Loki tips his head back and inches closer, and then his lips hit Tony’s groin and the warm puff of Loki’s breath tickles him.

His whole cock is surrounded by skin, wet and warm and perfect, wrapping him completely, the hotter throb of Loki’s tongue lying along the underside and the firmer grip of his actual throat around Tony’s head, and his hands on Tony’s ass flex and pull him in even harder until there’s no way Loki can be breathing. 

Tony isn’t even breathing, he just pulls back a little and thrusts forward again, feels the movement and the texture of Loki’s tongue, and does it again and again, fucks the throat of the Norse god on his knees. Tony’s skin’s getting tight and he can feel climax building up inside him, an electrical charge that’s about to get too high and burst any minute-

Loki pulls away, slow and smooth, and Tony jerks on his hair to pull him back and he doesn’t move an inch. Tony’s cock slips from his mouth and hangs bobbing in the air between them, and he barely keeps his hands where they are instead of jacking himself off because he’s so close, it’s unbearable, teetering on the edge of a cliff and he just wants to fall over already. 

He drops his head forward to see what the hell Loki thinks he’s playing at, and Tony gets a good look at his face, the high flush on his cheeks and burning intensity in his eyes, the way strands of his hair are sticking to his skin and the wet shine over his lips. Loki’s tongue flickers out, snakelike, and he stretches it forward.

And does something absolutely wicked to Tony’s head, spirals and twists and mathematically perfect patterns, Tony can feel them, and when he grabs Loki’s head in both hands and buries himself back in Loki’s mouth Loki lets him because he promised that Tony would come-

He comes down Loki’s throat just like he said, wrung out and gasping and dizzy like all the blood in his body’s being sucked out along with his come.

Loki swallows and Tony nearly screams at the pressure, at how much he feels, Loki’s mouth all but crushing him, and his hands are shaking and his knees are about to buckle but he grips Loki’s hair hard and pulls him off. 

Loki tongues at Tony’s slit as he goes and it feels like Loki’s licking the entire inside of his body and Tony shudders, but then Loki’s mouth is gone and Tony can actually feel other parts of his body. His toes have curled so hard they might be fused to his feet, and his fists are so full of Loki’s hair that it’s got to be painful for him, and Loki’s fingers are moving on his ass in what could almost be little stroking motions.

Tony drops his hands and Loki drops his, and Tony’s left completely empty and exposed. He falls back a little, catches himself with a forearm on the table behind him, and flinches at Loki’s touch as he’s tucked back into his boxers and his jeans are pulled up.

He feels like he’s been electrocuted. He feels like he’s swum over a waterfall.

He feels like he’s just been blown by a god.

Tony sees Loki stand through the foggy haze, elegant and composed apart from all the ways in which he’s not, and Tony’s eyes run down his body and-


And oh.

Loki’s tenting his leather pants, and his hips are rolling ever so slightly to get some friction without actually touching himself.

And if Tony had any doubts about Loki paying for a phone through what is probably technically prostitution, they’ve all gone out the window now.

“You said…” Tony’s throat is dry like he’s run a marathon. He swallows, oh god Loki felt so good swallowing, and tries again. “You said I’d tell you whether or not you were allowed to come.”

Loki’s hands clench and press against his thighs like he’s forcing himself to wait for Tony’s orders. “I did.”

“Then I want to see you come in your pants.”

Wants to see Loki wrecked and filthy because Tony told him to be.

And because if he actually sees Loki’s cock, he’s jumping on it, and that is not okay right now.

This is a business transaction, nothing more, no matter how pretty Loki’s eyes are or how hot his mouth is, and all Tony’s doing is getting the worth of a custom StarkPhone.

Nothing more.

Those things are expensive, really.

Loki’s eyes flare with what’s definitely lust - and it’s very like the look Tony had seen stalking towards him in his penthouse the day of the battle, and that’s something to think about at three in the morning with a drink - and his hand just flies to grip the bulge of his cock through his pants. 

He gasps and drops his head back just like Tony did, long pale neck curved in a taut arch, and he kneads himself mercilessly hard, groping and squeezing, white fingers stark against the black leather, and it’s only about five whole seconds before he cries out and his body goes limp. 

He pants for breath and strokes himself, softer now, like he’s petting himself for a job well done, and readjusts his pants and lifts his head back up.

He’s just as wrecked and filthy as Tony could have asked for, flushed and breathless and his hair all over the place, mouth hanging open like he’s lost the strength to close it. 

Fuck, he looks gorgeous.

Not that Tony’ll tell him, but that was worth a lot more than one phone.

Loki shakes his head and twists his body a bit and somehow comes out of it looking chill and controlled without changing his actual appearance at all. He looks Tony over closely, head tilting, eyes narrowed, and nods, satisfied. His eyes fly back up to Tony’s. “About my phone, then.”

“Of course.” Because there’s no aftercare for something like this, with someone like this, this is a mutual exchange of services and that’s it. What else did Tony expect, really?

No, that’s not the question. What else did he want? 

And that’s not a good question either, and definitely not something he should actually answer.

So he zips his lips - they didn’t even kiss, how unfair - and pushes himself to his feet and turns to the table formerly supporting most of his weight. He taps the surface to open a new file, starts with the latest StarkPhone model, and pulls the hologram wide to get at the components. “What are you after?”

He hears a rustle behind him and then Loki hands a folded piece of thick paper over Tony’s shoulder. “I am quite fussy about my things, and I thought your mortal memory insufficient to hold all my requirements.”

And if Tony didn’t already know his place in this whole arrangement, that’d put him in it pretty damn quick.

“Sure, no problem.” Tony takes it, unfolds it, and then stares at what’s got to be Loki’s handwriting.

It’s elegant, loopy yet perfectly legible, neat like it came out of a printer apart from the slight irregularities in the amount of ink. He must have been writing with a fountain pen or something - green ink, too, what a surprise. 

Longest battery physically possible, that’s reasonable and easy.

Carried by any company in range, not limited to one, and carried by satellite if there’s no tower close enough - tricky, but it’s not like he can’t do it.

A bunch of software stuff, menu formatting and aesthetics.

As powerful a camera as Tony can cram in there.

Untraceable number.

“And I mean untraceable by anyone, Mr. Stark, including yourself.”

That’s the sort of thing that could give Loki a bit of power over SHIELD, the sort of thing Tony should probably hesitate about including.

“Not a problem.”

He swaps out the battery and camera with improved models too bulky for mass commercial use, and starts the hardware and software hacking to get it signal from anywhere.

“Hey, would you rather just have it go through satellite the whole time? Be a lot easier than convincing all the different services to give it up.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Loki move up to stand beside him, and lean in to peer closely at the hologram. “I suppose.”

Tony bins the current transmitter array and pulls one for a satellite phone instead. “It is a bit heavier, if it’s satellite all the time. Little thicker, too.”

“Go ahead.”

The hologram bulges to fit the new specifications, but that’s the hardware sorted. He should probably be trying to make this look harder - Loki paid good not-money for this, and if Tony ordered him to come that’s definitely worth more than waving some light around. 

Maybe he should assemble some of it by hand, that’d look impressive.

And why exactly does he want to impress Loki? He’s already blown Tony, it’s not like he can ask for his money back if he’s not satisfied.

Oh, because Loki might kill him if he gets the feeling Tony’s just using him for sex without holding up his end of the bargain. He wants Loki to think it was worth it.

He opens up the programming and starts tweaking it to Loki’s specifications. “This is the slow bit, so find a chair and there are snacks in the fridge.”

Because it’s just rude not to offer, that’s why. It’s not like he actually cares if Loki’s comfortable.

He’s a murdering psychotic god who’s attacked Tony and his friends on multiple occasions and there was the whole tried-to-take-over-the-world thing as well, and Tony hasn’t forgotten about any of that.

Nor is it completely irrelevant compared to his new knowledge that Loki is really good at sucking cock.


He’s screwed.

He puts the menu items in the order that Loki wants, and it actually makes more logical sense, even if it is a little harder to navigate, than the current model; he pretties up the icons, because Loki asked for ‘not boring’ ones; he does stuff and drinks coffee and does more stuff, pushes his hair out of his eyes and blinks and the programming’s compiled and there’s a little holographic CD waiting to be dragged into the holographic phone.

Tony grabs, drags, and drops, and the hologram beeps, runs a bug-checker, and turns green. 

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is all raspy and dry so he drinks more coffee. It tastes like drain cleaner and feels like liquid gravel but it’s coffee so he forgives it. “I can manufacture that in about half an hour, didn’t invent anything new so the parts should be lying around, I’ll go hunting.”

“I appreciate your promptness,” Loki says, and Tony turns to him to see him sitting, legs indecently wide, on a stool, sipping at his own mug.

Tony glances down at his, and then at the quarter-full carafe sitting on the table beside Loki, out of Tony’s accidental hand-waving reach but well within range for refills.

Did Loki make him coffee?

No. No way. Tony must have made it himself and forgot. That’s the only answer. Loki already sucked him off, he didn’t need to give Tony coffee as well to get the job done.

So if Tony made it himself, why did he allow Loki to steal some of it? Programming code or not, he is never too distracted to know what’s happening to his coffee.

So this wasn’t his coffee. Loki made it for both of them.

His head hurts. He drinks more coffee and pretends that makes it better.

Then he rips his eyes away from Loki’s long fingers folded around the mug and the red of his lips against the white ceramic. Phone. Loki’s here for a phone and nothing else. “This’d go quicker if you let me have Jarvis back.”

Loki’s eyebrows rise and he swallows, throat rippling. “Your servant has gone nowhere. I merely silenced it for the time being. I saw no reason to alert anyone else to my presence.”

“Ah.” Yes, on the one hand, reasonable and it worked out fairly well. On the other, “I don’t let anyone mess with Jarvis.”

Loki grimaces. “It was necessary. But I apologize.”

He waves his hand.

I am indeed fully functional, sir.

“Great to hear, Jarvis. Start manufacturing this design, will you, and keep quiet on the subject of the supervillain in my lab.”

Certainly, sir. Apology accepted, Mr. Odinson.

Loki snarls. “That’s Laufeyson.”

Ah, right. This is not-Thor’s-brother Loki. Or, possibly, not-Odin’s-son Loki. Loki’s never been completely clear exactly what he wants Thor to agree to in the course of their shouting matches every time they battle. Not-Odin’s-son is pretty consistent; not-Thor’s-brother tends to waver and sometimes doesn’t come up at all.

Tony knows how that feels. He’s not really Howard’s son, definitely not Obadiah’s foster son, and how he feels about his mother at any given time depends on a hundred other factors that are nothing to do with her. 

But no, he doesn’t need to be finding things in common with Loki. Really doesn’t.

So they sit and they drink coffee, and don’t talk because they’re not friends, Loki’s only still here because his phone’s not done yet and Tony’s only still here because he’s not leaving Loki alone in his lab.

That’s it. End of story.

No story at all, in fact.

He’s screwed.

Complete, sir.”

Tony has no idea how long it took, but he’s still glad it didn’t take any longer. He jumps up and almost runs over to the manufacturing unit - he keeps it in his own lab because what with getting blown up, shot, and thrown into the Hudson regularly the Avengers go through phones at a ridiculous rate - and pulls out Loki’s shiny new baby.

It’s encased in gleaming dark green with gold highlights, slightly heavier and thicker than the usual thanks to the satellite pickup and the bigger, better camera. He turns and hands it to Loki, who’s followed him silently and that’s not nearly as creepy as it should be.

“All yours.”

Loki lifts it up to his eyes and looks it over closely, and smiles. “Very fine.”

And Loki may be the God of Lies but he has absolutely no reason to be lying right now, which means he’s genuinely complimenting Tony’s work and Tony absolutely does not feel a warmth spreading through his chest.

The arc reactor needs servicing, that’s all.

And he doesn’t say, “So maybe next time you need something, you can text me before you drop in?”

So Loki can’t grin and tip his head in acknowledgement and say, “I will,” before disappearing.

Only he does.

He’s screwed. And he just invited Loki to come back and screw him again, and he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.