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Some people walk like they are a step away from dancing, while others walk like they are an instant away from face-planting. Hard and painfully. At that moment, Tony Stark belonged, wholly and completely, to the latter group.

"No one who drank as much alcohol as you did should be able to walk, let alone walk like that."

His companion laughed, a low, sultry sound. His response ran blurrily through Tony's drunken brain.

"You drank as much alcohol as I did."

"And I can barely walk!"

Had he been slightly more sober, he would not have admitted such a thing. There was a momentary pause from his partner as he grabbed Tony's arm, sending tingles all through his body, and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"That is true. However, it is quite the indication of your alcohol tolerance that you can."

Tony grumbled as he leant into the man's lithe body, taking full advantage of the strength he offered him. He was rewarded with another chuckle, just as darkly seductive as the first.

"You're drunk," Was Tony's response to the reaction. "You don't normally laugh."

Had he been anyone else, Tony would have sworn that his companion froze mid-step, before continuing.

"I am not drunk," Came the muffled, haughty reply. "I am… tipsy."

"Curse your Asgardian biology."

This time the man did stop.

"I am not Asgardian." His voice was sharp and icy as he removed Tony's arm, and turned him to face him. The billionaire squinted to bring his face into focus.

He smiled as dark, vibrant green eyes formed, staring at him from a pale, handsome face, framed by black hair, gently falling to his shoulders, looking as if he was about to claw Tony apart with his fingernails.

"You're even more gorgeous than normal when you look like you're about to kill me."

He frowned. Had he just said that out loud?

The slight widening of eyes showed that, obviously, he had. A tall, lean body was suddenly flush against his, a hand gripping his chin firmly, but not painfully. Eyes stared directly into his as his head spun at the sudden movement.

A smirk formed on the other's face.

"You mean that, huh?"

It was Tony's turn for his eyes to widen. He wasn't given the chance to respond.

Lips were pressed to his, hard and demanding, softly unyielding. Tony pressed against his body, kissing back with equal fervor.

And, just as abruptly, the kiss ended. A voice like snow, sex, and molten chocolate rang out from those talented lips, his equally skilled tongue pronouncing each word carefully.

"Obviously you did." He could hear a smirk in that voice as he let out a slightly breathy moan, his voice slightly more than a whisper as he pressed himself up against the other.

"Loki…" The word could barely be classified as speech, rather a sigh, a moan, a breath.

And the Trickster pulled back suddenly, leaving Tony teetering for balance, a smirk on his face as he turned.

Tony began to tip forward as his companion waltzed away, sashaying, skipping away. He was as good as dancing, every movement conveying self-satisfied amusement.

And Tony face-planted. Hard.

He groaned against the pavement as his face mashed against it.