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This is going to be mind-blowing.

Tony paces a step closer to the bed, and slides the length of the crop through his hand, feels the thin, flexible body of it and the wicked tab of hard folded leather at the end. He flicks it gently through the air, just fast enough for his bound, beautiful captive to hear it.

Loki jerks in his cuffs at the sound, an almost-silent gasp falling from his lips. Tony smirks at the sight of him – can’t do anything else, really, can’t stop himself from burning with need and arrogance.

Loki’s stripped, stretched spread-eagle across the red silk sheets, wrists and ankles chained to the bedposts. Face-down, disarrayed black hair fanning across his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and back and ass and legs gloriously taut as he strains at his bindings. The chains themselves are almost as pretty, a light-gold-colored alloy that glows against Loki’s pale skin, the same alloy that makes up the bedframe.

It took Tony weeks to create something strong enough to hold back a god, but looking down at Loki like this - it's worth every second.

Tony steps closer still, and hears Loki’s breath hitch at his footfalls. Tony glances down at the delicious curve of Loki’s ass, and grins at the way he’s trying not to grind his hips against the mattress – the way he’s achingly hard, and refusing to admit it.

Tony snaps the crop to the bed just an inch away from Loki’s balls, and Loki hisses and yanks at his chains and goes absolutely nowhere. “Damn, if I’d had any idea you’d love this so much, I’d have tied you down much sooner.”

Loki snarls, and twists his neck to look over his shoulder. His eyes flash poison and something approaching hate – something that would fool anyone else, but Tony knows better. “You think this pleases me? You think I’ll submit to your depravity? You think any mortal bonds can defeat Loki of Asgard?”

Tony lifts the crop and trails the end up the inside of Loki’s thigh. Loki shivers, and presses his lips together before he can give himself away. Tony goes further, the black leather tab sliding over the tight flesh of Loki’s ass, slipping down into the small of his back, climbing up the ladder of his spine. “You say that.”

Tony flicks the end down between Loki’s shoulderblades and applies just enough force to bend the body of the crop, like he’s pinning Loki to the bed with it. “But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Loki’s eyes flicker away, and he struggles to pull his haughty mask back into place. It slips from him like water through his fingers, and Tony grins.

The god’s wrecked, flushed and panting and wanting, but not quite wrecked enough.

Tony reaches his other hand between Loki’s legs, caresses his balls for an instant before moving further and gripping his cock. It’s unbearably hard, throbbing in his grasp, and Loki gasps and writhes desperately for an instant before he forces himself not to react. Tony works his fingers down to the base and gives the cock ring a little rub, just enough to remind them both that it’s there.

That there’s nothing Loki can do without Tony’s permission.

“So, what do you think? Can we get started?”

The added humiliation makes Loki drop his head back to the bed, shoulders heaving as he fights himself. But Tony will make him admit that he wants this – Loki’s going to ask, and ask nicely, or Tony’s throwing the crop away and settling down in a chair with a tablet.

Not that he’ll get much work done with Loki chained naked to his bed, but it’s the thought that counts.

Loki’s arms twist and pull, and all he gets is a red flush around his wrists from the cuffs digging in. Tony glances over the pale gold, but the metal doesn’t tear or crack or even bend.

Then the chains clink as Loki goes limp and he slumps against the bed in defeat. But Tony doesn’t move, doesn’t lift the crop from Loki’s back or his hand from around his cock. Loki might have proved to himself that he can’t break loose, but he definitely hasn’t met Tony’s demands yet.

He hears the small, wet sound of Loki’s tongue over his lips, and Loki shifts his hips a little, dragging his cock through Tony’s grip.

“Ah-ah,” Tony scolds, pulling away. “I said, can we get started?

His hand’s achingly empty now, the air cold after the rush of Loki’s blood under his silky skin, but Loki’s going to ask for everything he gets.

Loki’s eyes slip shut, and his lips part, and Tony leans in so he won’t miss a word.


It’s not much – it’s barely anything – but Tony can be patient.

They’ve got all night, and by the end he’ll own that silver tongue.

“That’s it,” Tony says, and he lifts the crop high and brings it hissing down.