Avengers 1. One Day

"I wish to see Jane."

Thor's gruff voice resonated through the room, full of purity and sincerity. It had been so long since he'd seen her. He thought about her daily still, wishing he could hold her small body in his arms. Heimdall assured him that she was always in good hands, as did Agent Coulson. He did not wish to complicate her life, but he could not bear to leave her realm without witnessing the sparkle in her eyes.

"I understand that, but what are we supposed to do with Loki?" asked Nick Fury. It was never clear to those around him whether he realized the callousness in his voice.

"You're just going to make him leave? He came all the way here, helped us fight the Chitauri, and you won't give him a chance to go see her?" Natasha's inquiry was soft and soothing in contrast to the booming voices before her. Bruce simply nodded, and Steve sat unmoving beside him.

"Look, I want him to be able to visit his girlfriend too, but we have some pretty important shit to take care of right now. He can't just drag Loki around with him on a leash, and we don't have any place to put him," the director continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

A quiet scoff resounded from the corner of the room, and each head slowly turned in its direction. Loki stood against the wall, hands chained behind his back. A metal muzzle clung to his mouth, responding only to the touch of an Avenger to be removed. There was a smile in his eyes, seemingly amused by their predicament.

"Oh shut up," Clint barked, breaking his silence for the first time since entering the room. He had been watching the demigod closely, itching to release an arrow into one of his stupid green eyes.

"There's got to be something we can do. Do you have another one of those cages?" Steve asked, ignoring Clint and Loki's stare-down altogether. Fury responded with a solemn shake of his head. The room fell silent as they contemplated and Thor's eyes fell to the ground. His heart ached to see her. He felt sick to his stomach, understanding that he would have to leave without her ever knowing of his arrival. A gentle tapping clouded his thoughts.

Thor's gaze followed a subtle crack in the flooring toward the modest wooden table. His fellow teammates sat in office chairs, rolling forward and back, spinning in place to help their minds stay focused after such exhausting events. He narrowed his eyes as they moved across a glare in the lacquer, the bright fluorescent lights reminding him of his first trip to Midgard. They finally settled upon Tony Stark's calloused fingertips, quietly rapping at the table's surface.

"Don't worry about it, Point Break. I'll watch him. My place in Malibu has the tightest security you've ever seen."

Heads turned once more in the direction of the sound, and Thor's lips curled into a smile. Tony beamed confidently, happy to be the center of attention. It lasted but a moment, however, as Nick Fury naturally had to spoil the fun.

"No, absolutely not," the man replied sternly.

"Aw, come on. Just one day. Why not?" Tony asked, throwing his hands into the air.

"Because he looks far too happy about it," the director replied, matter-of-factly. He motioned toward the corner of the room, and Tony stole a glance toward the trickster. Emerald eyes pierced his own, and he immediately understood the man's hesitance. "I'm not going to just let him get away again."

"I'll help keep an eye on him," Bruce muttered. Loki's brow twitched, and Tony saw a flash of weakness in him. The smirk returned to his neatly landscaped face. The mischievous bastard would be a fool to step out of line with the Hulk on call.

Fury sighed. He opened his mouth to deliver an undoubtedly negative response when Steve nodded as well.

"Thor deserves a day with his girl. Opportunities like this don't come up all the time. I know all too well that you can't take it for granted," he said quietly. There was a distinct sadness in his tone as he recalled Peggy's soft voice ringing in his ears before darkness enveloped his body. He shook the thought from his mind.

"Fine," Fury replied reluctantly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have one day."

* * *

The silence was unbearable. Tony tried to make small talk on multiple occasions, but the flight was mostly spent looking at the sky soundlessly. Everyone was on edge with Loki on board. His wrists and ankles were shackled, and his mouth still covered. Clint suggested a blindfold, as the god's piercing glare made him feel uneasy, but Natasha assured him that he was being dramatic.

Tony cracked his knuckles as he stared out the window, relief flooding his body when his mansion came into view. His heart pumped in excitement, and his legs grew restless, aching for solid ground. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he jumped from his seat the instant they touched down.

He impatiently ushered them into his home, leading the way with arms outstretched, emphasizing its intricate architecture and immaculate condition. His teammates followed closely behind, Loki strategically placed in the middle.

Bruce and Steve drank in their surroundings, awestruck. They smiled timidly as they appreciated the beautiful home, eager for a full tour. Natasha kept her eyes on their prisoner, having seen it all before, and Clint clung to his bow, bitterness still lingering in the back of his head. He did not want to be there at all, let alone with the God of Mischief. He cracked his neck and squinted his eyes as confused memories faded in and out from his influenced actions. He felt his skin crawl in Loki's presence as he tried to subdue the resentment of having his mind picked to pieces.

"Let's take our guest to his lovely room for the night before I finish showing you the rest of the house. Bruce, you're going to love the lab," Tony said with a smile. He was overjoyed to be home. Despite his normal distaste for company, he suddenly welcomed it. Their battle was a bonding experience, and he loved the idea of having someone to share his toys with, someone who would truly appreciate them.

The man led the team down two flights of stairs into a dimly lit concrete room. There was a small bed and wooden chair up against one of the walls, which appeared to be covered in cracks, holes, and burn marks. The door was made from heavy steel, with a square bulletproof window only large enough to peek through.

"I got tired of destroying expensive shit, so I started using this room to test out new suit modifications. Nothing too fancy, but it's covered in cameras and surrounded by concrete. I had a bed moved down here because, well, I'm just such a nice guy," Tony bragged, patting the god on the shoulder. Loki glared at him menacingly. "Finishing touch," the man said, bending down to snatch something up from the floor. There was a low clanging sound as he lifted heavy chains and attached them to Loki's shackled wrists. Clint smiled as the god shifted uncomfortably, his hands pinned behind his back.

Tony wiped his hands on his jeans and nodded before turning on his heel. "If you play nice, I'll unhook you. Now, to the lab!" he bellowed excitedly. "Jarvis, do alert us if you see any funny business."

The team followed him through the heavy door and up the concrete stairs, back to the pristine living space. All of them but Clint.

"Nice room you've got here," he said, once they were out of earshot. He leaned against the bleak wall. There was a smugness in his voice and he smirked, sensing the frustration in the god's emerald eyes. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he continued, narrowing his eyes. There was a familiar prickling in the back of his neck, and it made his shoulder twitch. Loki merely stared back at him, unmoving. The man suddenly felt very uneasy.

"You're fucking pathetic," Clint whispered, taking a step closer. Again, he felt an itching sensation crawl through his skin, and he shook his head. Loki's piercing glare was bringing back memories, cloudy memories that he'd tried so desperately to suppress. He bared his teeth furiously, knowing that the god was smiling beneath that muzzle, basking in his abilities to unravel those around him despite being silenced and chained.

He couldn't take it anymore. He clenched his fist tightly and took a step nearer, enraged that Loki's stance did not waver. The god was tied up and, according to Thor, exhausted. His powers were supposedly limited following their grand battle, and should not pose much of a threat, especially with the Avengers nearby. What could he possibly do?

Clint's heart nearly stopped as Loki lunged forward threateningly. A startling ringing echoed loudly through the room from his chains and the man stumbled against the wall, terrified. The god snickered delightedly.

"You think that's funny, do you?" Clint asked, exasperated. His heart beat violently in his chest. "How about this?" At that, the man leapt forward and his fist collided with the god's cheekbone, causing him to stagger backward.

Tony had barely finished showing off his newly renovated kitchen when a small alarm sounded in an overhead speaker. He rubbed his temples irritably, surprisingly astounded to have already been interrupted.

"Cameras," he called nonchalantly, and four images of Loki's holding cell were projected on the wall, just in time to capture Clint brutally kicking him in the stomach, shoving him against the wall. "That's not good," he muttered, and they quickly sprinted toward the stairs.

"Stop it!" Natasha shrieked. She was the first to reach the scene and quickly pulled Clint away. His boot struck the god's jaw before she could stop it, and the gruesome sound of their collision made them all wince in horror.

Loki doubled over in pain. He fell to his knees and clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms until they felt numb. Metallic liquid filled his mouth and the sour taste of bile tore at the back of his throat. He coughed helplessly, taking in frantic heavy breaths through his nose. His ribs ached and he tugged at his shackles, choking on a mouthful of blood.

Tony rushed toward him urgently and ripped the muzzle from his face. Tears gathered in the god's eyes and a thick pool of crimson splattered on the floor in front of them.

The room fell silent. The team stared wide-eyed at one another in astonishment before their gaze fell upon Loki, whose head was bowed and concealed by inky locks of hair.

Suddenly, a horrible cackling filled the room. It was sharp and maniacal, and made everyone anxious. Tony furrowed his brow as the god's face slowly came into view, his white teeth painted red, lips curled into a twisted smile. The sound was unnatural and strained, but the man couldn't help but feel a subtle sting of sympathy burning in his chest. Perhaps it was the single tear that trickled from the corner of Loki's eye.

"Nice one, Legolas," Tony mumbled angrily, ushering them out with his hands. "Get the fuck upstairs. I'll clean him up before Thor comes back and sees what you've done."

He could hear the god scoff behind him as he walked away.

* * *

Tony timidly stood in the doorway holding a hot towel and a glass of water. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared across the dimly lit room, eyes landing on the dark figure. Though the situation was less than ideal, he preferred it to being upstairs amid the incessant arguing over what the hell happened and why the hell this was still a good idea.

Loki shifted slightly, chains rattling behind him as he leaned awkwardly against the wall. He was sitting, legs curled up toward his chest, chin still coated in viscous crimson.

"Stark," the god muttered, nodding. He flashed a scarlet smile.

"Loki," the man replied nonchalantly. He took a hesitant step closer, chest raised in confidence. To show weakness was unacceptable, not to mention dangerous.

He lowered himself to one knee and was about to offer the towel before realizing how taut the shackles were against the god's back. He pursed his lips, eyeing the smeared blood distastefully, unwilling to release Loki from his chains after such an incident. Slowly, he raised the damp cloth to Loki's face.

"What are you doing?" the trickster asked, emerald eyes contracting curiously.

"I'm cleaning you up. You're looking a little under the weather."

Loki snickered. "Your friend has quite a temper," he said, shaking the hair from his face.

"Yeah, well, I can't really blame him. You kind of had it coming."

The god shrugged before nodding, a smirk creeping back onto his face. Though he detested the notion of being tended to, he hated the sensation of caked blood slowly drying on his skin even more. He reluctantly leaned forward, cocking his head to the side and jutting his chin toward the steaming towel.

Tony's features slowly came into view, illuminated by the modest overhead lights. Though he was exhausted, there was a distinct vivacity about him, no doubt stemming from the persistent thoughts and ideas continuously flooding his calculative mind. His neatly manicured facial hair accentuated his features, and though it was becoming bristly, it only made him appear more rugged and masculine.

Tony could feel the god's gaze washing over him, examining him, and his discomfort was unbearably obvious. He wiped at Loki's bloodstained jaw clumsily, and the god had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling.

"Do I make you nervous, Stark?" Loki murmured. The words were silky and smooth, yet wrapped in jagged edges that sliced through the air between them. The man's name came out as a sharp hiss, and Tony snorted to conceal an anxious gasp.

"Absolutely not," he replied condescendingly.

They stared at each other for a moment, both seemingly devoid of emotion. The god's eyes were vivid and active. They were mesmerizing.

"May I?" Loki asked. The sound was sensual and alluring. Tony opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught in his throat. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"The water," the god added, motioning to the glass on the floor. Tony nodded quickly, embarrassed, and placed it against the god's lips. He drank deeply and his eyes fluttered shut, glad to be rid of the salty buildup that coated his teeth. The icy liquid washed away the tepid bitterness that clung to the back of his throat, and he could not suppress a contented sigh.

He opened his eyes to find the man staring back at him, his face laden with an emotion he could not quite pinpoint. He smiled devilishly, instinctively, as he licked his lips. It oddly resembled desire.

"Will you not release me?" the god inquired, forehead wrinkling in an oddly innocent contortion. He tugged at the chains despairingly and Tony hesitated for a moment, truly considering the proposal. Their positions seemed so unnatural, so _backwards_. The God of Mischief sat awkwardly strewn across the floor, hands bound and face bloodied. He could still make out the subtle path taken by a single tear as it crawled down his cheek, and it made the god seem human.

But he was not. He was a scheming psychopath and a prisoner, hell-bent on world domination.

"Nice try, Reindeer Games," Tony replied, getting to his feet.

"Wait," Loki started, shifting uncomfortably. He twisted his wrists and pulled at his shackles painfully. "You mean to leave me like this?" he asked, irritated. His tone was overtly haughty, but he was more desperate than insulted. The restraints hugged at his flesh uncomfortably and he yearned for something soft; he ached to lie down and properly heal his bruises and wounds. He narrowed his eyes and his rosy lips curled into an offended grimace. He would not beg for it.

Tony smiled to himself. There was something beautiful about the lanky figure before him, crumpled and helpless, locked away in his own home. It felt twisted and wrong, but it was oddly satisfying. He basked in his dominance over his prisoner, and suddenly forgave Clint for his rash actions. He could understand the desire to cause Loki some well-deserved pain.

"Behave," Tony muttered, walking toward the door.

"I do as I please," the god hissed.

"Of course you do," the man replied, rolling his eyes. He could not stifle a laugh.

"Do not underestimate me, Stark. You humans are a feeble and predictable race."

"Says the guy tied up in my basement?" Tony added, glancing over his shoulder. Loki was smiling, and something about it made him uneasy. Was Fury right? Despite his unfortunate meeting with Hawkeye's boot, he didn't seem to be too torn up over being held captive. Or perhaps he was just too proud to show it.

Loki's tongue darted from his mouth swiftly, wetting his lips. There was something seductive about it, and it sent a shiver down Tony's spine. This was bad.

"Oh, and one thing before I forget," the man said before reaching toward the floor. He saw the god's eyes widen as he gripped the muzzle in his hand and dusted it off. He glanced at his own reflection for a moment and smiled. He brought it to the god's mouth, who surprisingly did not struggle. Loki simply closed his eyes in defeat and sighed.


	2. Macallan 1939

**Thank you so much for the kind reviews! I will be updating very soon!**

**P.S. Sorry if the format of this chapter is a little weird. The page breaks have been coming and going for what seems to be no apparent reason...**

**. . .**

* * *

"Well, you're not allowed down there anymore," Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. Clint sighed loudly from across the room, thoroughly tired of the same conversation. From everyone's expressions, it appeared as though they'd finally stopped pressing the subject.

"You don't have to worry about that," the Hawk replied angrily. "That greasy bastard doesn't deserve anyone's time."

"Yeah, well, as annoying as the guy is, we have to leave him alone. Thor would kill us if anything happened to him while he was gone," said Tony, receiving a universal nod in response. "I have to admit though, that was a pretty good shot," he added with a smile. Clint chuckled. The cracking sound of Loki's jaw was like music to his ears, and he found solace in the pleasant memory.

. . .

* * *

The evening progressed surprisingly smoothly. Tony ordered takeout and they ate together at the long dining table like a family… a nonsensical and utterly dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless. They raided the billionaire's liquor cabinet and beer fridge, deciding to finally sit down and revel in their victory against Loki and the Chitauri. They were all wound too tightly, and though they were far too worn out, they celebrated anyway. It seemed entirely wrong to let the opportunity pass, and even if they wanted to, Tony was always good at talking his houseguests into a drink or two.

Steve chugged a domestic beer while Bruce sipped at a small vodka tonic. Clint and Tony enjoyed a glass of fine scotch, and even Natasha partook in a dirty martini. They watched the sun together as it set over the ocean, commending Tony on his breathtaking view. He smiled, delighted, and muttered something about renovations.

They shared stories of their epic battle, boasting about their abilities and laughing as they tried to outdo one another. They were having so much fun that they almost overlooked their prisoner, burning with hatred and wrath as he sat stories below, demeaned and forgotten.

"Damn," Tony muttered, setting his glass on the coffee table. "I should probably take something down there, don't you think?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Clint said with a grin. Tony smiled.

"You're probably right. Then again, I'm more afraid of the guy with the hammer than I am of Loki, so we can probably spare a piece of pizza," he replied, taking a wobbly step toward the box. He held up his hand to silence the room before they even began to question his sobriety. He was not going to have it.

"I'll take it," Natasha said suddenly. "I'll be right back," she added, pushing past the billionaire. She didn't want any more trouble.

. . .

* * *

"How are you, princess?" Natasha asked as she pushed through the door. Loki was already staring maliciously, no doubt desiring to spew an onslaught of profanities if not for the pesky metal device over his mouth. "Dinner?" she asked, holding up a plate and a glass of water. Her face was rigid and eerily indifferent.

Loki rolled his eyes and looked away. He was sitting in roughly the same position as he had been all day, though his legs were spread apart lazily, knees seemingly miles apart.

The agent slowly knelt down and removed the muzzle from Loki's mouth. The skin underneath was slightly flushed, and a faint indentation snaked across his cheek where the edges clung tightly. He scowled at the touch before painfully exercising his stiff jaw.

"I am surprised they allowed you to come down here, Agent Romanoff," he said quietly.

"Why is that?"

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath. You reek of it. It seems dangerous for a small woman like you to wander down here alone and intoxicated, do you not agree?"

Natasha held up a slice of pizza and brought it toward the god, who appeared insulted and murderous.

"You are not going to feed me, Agent," he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, still refusing to look back.

"Fine. Looks like you don't get any food, then," she threatened.

"I am not hungry, and even if I was, I would not eat that vile concoction, let alone from your disgusting, filthy hands. You mortals are lowly and revolting," Loki spat, words dripping with resentment. "Get out of my sight, you pathetic fucking quim."

Once again, a mocking cackle filled the room. His manic laughter echoed unnervingly and rattled around in her skull, setting off a throbbing headache.

A loud smack silenced him. Her palm met his cheek, and he sneered at the sting it caused his already tender flesh.

"I'm not one to get taken advantage of, especially by some failed criminal in chains. Besides, I'm Russian. It would take me a hell of a lot more than one martini. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Well that was a pleasant experience," Natasha breathed as she reentered the living room. "I need another drink," she added, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Not hungry, I take it?" Bruce asked. His voice was calm and collected amid the bustle around him. His tenderness immediately lessened the annoying throbbing behind her eyes and she smiled.

"Apparently he's too good for a piece of pizza," she replied before eating it herself.

. . .

* * *

Tony laid in his soft bed, glass of scotch in hand. He kicked off his shoes and turned on the television to try and busy himself. Though it was nearly 2 o'clock in the morning, he was not tired. He could not remember the last time he went to sleep before the sun came up, but it was clear that the rest of the team did not share the same internal clock. They'd begun drinking at dusk and were out by midnight, each in their own guest room.

He chuckled to himself. Clint had partaken in a few too many glasses of Macallan, though Tony couldn't blame him. He hadn't popped open the outrageously expensive bottle for it to just go to waste, after all. He and Bruce had to practically carry the beast of a man to his room, fully equipped with blackout curtains and aspirin to help alleviate his inevitable morning hangover.

He took a sip of his fine single malt, savoring its fruitiness and toffee aftertaste. His mind was cloudy and he narrowed his eyes, gradually becoming bored to death. He swirled the amber liquid in his cup and raised his brow curiously.

"Jarvis, can you get me a camera on Loki?" he asked.

Only a moment later, his television displayed a dim picture of the God of Mischief sitting on the floor, knees pulled toward his chest and eyes shut tightly. His lips were moving, and he seemed to be muttering something to himself.

"Mic it," Tony added, but Loki stopped as soon as the connection was made.

"Good evening, Stark," the god murmured, and a smile crept across his face. He opened his eyes slowly and cocked his head to the side as he stared directly into the camera.

Tony cleared his throat. He did not expect his innocent snooping to become a two-way ordeal. How did Loki know he was watching? He was not in any state to have a full blown conversation with the trickster.

"Hook us up, Jarvis," the man said warily, taking a large gulp from his glass. He had to respond; he couldn't risk being thought timid. He hissed as the liquid burned his throat and took a deep breath.

"What's up?" Tony asked. He immediately brought his palm to his forehead. _What's up?_

"Spying on me, were you? Very naughty, don't you think?" Loki asked, his vivid white smile coming into view as he leaned forward slightly. The fluorescent lights overhead brought out their radiance, and his bright eyes glimmered.

"Just making sure you weren't destroying my shit or trying to escape. You know, the usual funny business."

The god scoffed. He licked his lips and leaned his head back, tossing the hair from his face. Though he acted entirely natural, he was certainly distressed. Tony could see the discomfort in his eyes and hear the quiet rattle of chains as Loki shifted awkwardly, trying to stretch out his muscles and ease the pressure on his bones.

Tony tapped on his glass quietly as he examined the specimen on his screen. It was his turn to analyze, and he enjoyed the faint suggestion of unease on Loki's face.

"Am I to be your entertainment for the evening, then?" the god asked. Tony licked his lips subconsciously and shook his head, suddenly realizing how much he would enjoy the notion. "I fear I cannot do much, having been chained up like this. Sorry to be a disappointment."

"I'm sure you could still do plenty," Tony blurted before he could stop himself. Again, his palm met his forehead, but this time with greater force. His tone was too friendly… lusty, even. He blamed the scotch.

"Is that so?" Loki asked, raising an eyebrow. He extended one leg out in front of him and suppressed a whine at the discomfort. The concrete had been cruel to him.

"I don't know; you seem crafty enough."

The god grinned wickedly and dropped his knee to the side. Tony's eyes raced across the mile-long legs, sprawled open like a whore. The grip on his glass began to tighten and he consumed the remaining liquid in one gulp. He wiped his lips and leaned forward, squinting his eyes to get a better look.

"All of your friends have gone to bed, I see," Loki began, straightening his spine. His back was flat against the concrete behind him, and he appeared remarkably taller. He arched his back and pressed the top of his head against the wall to stretch his neck, and Tony bit back a gasp as he admired the god's ivory skin, draped in soft inky locks of hair.

"Yeah… I don't sleep much."

"Neither do I," the god replied. There was a subtle ache in his voice as the words left his mouth. He must have realized it himself, as his eye twitched slightly in reflection.

Tony moved closer still, setting his empty glass down as he soundlessly crept across the room. He licked his lips subconsciously, suddenly feeling more confident as Loki finally turned his eyes from the camera. He wondered how the god knew he was watching… it was obviously some sort of Asgardian magic. He wondered if Loki knew he was watching him now, so intimately.

"I see now that you placed this here to taunt me," Loki muttered, stealing a glance toward the bed. He was bored and exhausted, and his body ached for it. "How exceptionally wicked of you," he added, lips curling into an unexpected grin.

"I had good intentions, really. I told you to behave. I would have untied you," Tony replied, wringing his hands. His eyes widened as Loki shifted once more, pulling his outstretched leg even further apart from the other. Loki's gaze met the lens once more, and he caught a glimpse of the god's tongue wetting his lips before it vanished.

"You will not release me, even still? I've done nothing wrong. She was mocking me."

Tony scoffed and, to his surprise, Loki was chuckling to himself. "Tell me, Stark… what would it take to persuade you?"

The final inquiry was somehow dizzying, and Tony took a wobbly step backward. He opened his mouth, but could not force out any words. It was clear to him at that moment that Loki knew exactly what he was doing. The god was observant, maddeningly so, and was keen on each of their shortcomings. It just so happened that his greatest weaknesses were alcohol and sex.

"I don't think there's much you can do to persuade me," Tony muttered, hesitantly sitting at the foot of the bed. His mind was racing while his heart pumped rapidly, and he refused to look back at the screen and into those piercing green eyes. They were hypnotizing.

"I know you do not believe that," Loki replied, his words interrupted by the ringing of chains. The man could not help himself. He timidly glanced at the screen and all of the breath in his lungs escaped him.

Loki was on his knees, the chains stretched as far as they would go. He tugged at them playfully as he leaned forward, and a dark lock of hair fell in front of his porcelain face. He bit his lip sensually, seductively, and Tony had to rub his eyes to make sure he was not hallucinating.

"I know you wish to untie me, Stark," the god continued, his silky voice dripping with lust. Tony grinded his teeth and cursed himself for getting into this situation in the first place. His mind was cloudy and his judgment undoubtedly unreliable. The sudden throbbing between his legs was not aiding the decision-making process for the better, and he felt a dumb idea coming on.


	3. Kneel

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Tony asked. He was standing before the god, who had returned to his previous position, back flat against the wall and legs sprawled across the floor. The man eyed him inquisitively and leaned against the heavy metal door. It felt freezing to the touch, and he began to realize how unusually low the temperature in their immediate area was. Even more curious than that was his ability to have even made it there in the first place without drunkenly stumbling down the stairs and waking the entire house.

"That depends. What do you think I'm doing?" Loki replied, arching his back and cracking his shoulders. His grin was mischievous, yet surprisingly honest. Tony wondered whether the god was genuinely happy to see him, or if it was merely the scotch distorting his vision. He cleared his throat suddenly, realizing he was almost smiling.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure. So far I've gathered that you want me to unlock you so you can go lie down. I don't blame you; that bed is fucking divine. However, I'm pretty sure that your main intention is to get the fuck out of here, and if I'm the one to let you go, I'll never hear the end of it."

"I suppose I can understand why you are afraid of me," Loki said haughtily, subtly lifting his chest. Tony pursed his lips irritably and rolled his eyes. "You have no suit to protect you now."

"It doesn't matter. You're still sitting there, chained up. You're too weak to do anything about it."

"Am I?" the god asked wickedly. He narrowed his eyes and stood, shaking the pained expression from his face. He leaned clumsily against the wall on shaky legs, refusing to acknowledge his instability. "Perhaps this is what I was waiting for all along. For you, the indestructible Iron Man, to wander down here alone and inebriated, right into my vindictive grasp. Did your brilliant mind even venture to face such considerations?"

"Judging by the way you're standing, I would assume that you're actually in a bit of pain, regardless of how hard you're trying to hide it. It seems weird to me that someone as mighty and powerful as you, who has been carefully planning my demise all along while you sit in this stupid little room, would let a puny S.H.I.E.L.D. agent kick you around and then keep suffering on the concrete floor if you didn't actually have to. So yes, I did think about it, and no, I don't think that's the case."

Tony raised a brow, the arrogance practically seeping from his pores. He beamed the way he did for press conferences and award shows, so wide and so bright that it appeared as though his face might split in two.

"And yet you still will not release me," Loki muttered. His eyes fell to the floor and he sighed to himself, clenching his fists behind him.

"Kneel," Tony whispered. The request - the _demand _-surprised them both.

"I will do no such thing," the god replied with a scoff.

"Then I won't let you go," the man said nonchalantly. He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms in front of his chest indifferently, though his head and his heart were both pounding relentlessly, teeming with nerves.

"Why did you come down here, Stark? Was it to ask that of me? Somehow I feel as though you had different intentions."

"No, I pretty much thought I could get you to kneel," Tony replied. He didn't care about what his tone suggested. He didn't care how blatantly obvious he'd made it, how deliberate it sounded. He would never get the opportunity to speak to Loki like this again. "You seemed pretty willing."

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat, and for a brief moment, he had to convince himself that he was not nervous. He stared into the man's dark eyes and began tugging at the faintest threads of emotion for clues as to how he should react. There was distress. There was uncertainty. There was desire.

"Come here, Stark. If you do not fear me, that is."

Tony snickered and took a confident step forward. He shoved his hands in his pockets despite his better judgment.

"You're looking a little hesitant," the god taunted, rattling the chains behind him.

Tony gulped before moving closer still. He strode slowly and steadily, careful not to seem too timid. He chewed the inside of his lip and took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as though the warmth in his body was being stolen away. The sensation became stronger as he neared the tall figure before him, and he stopped but a few feet away.

"You really aren't going to kneel?" Tony asked. The words were sickly sweet as they escaped his mouth and he frowned dramatically.

"Make me," Loki whispered menacingly. The man swore he saw a glimmer of crimson behind those emerald eyes.

Tony took a step closer and realized he could see small clouds of breath escaping from him like thin wisps of smoke. The cold seemed to seep from Loki's own body. He furrowed his brow before reaching a timorous hand forward, cautiously placing it against the god's cheek. The smooth skin felt like ice and left a prickling sensation on his fingertips unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It left him visibly startled, and Loki appeared surprisingly embarrassed.

"Why are you so cold?" Tony asked.

"Ancestry," Loki whispered, averting his gaze.

"Ah, yes. Adopted," the man muttered. He noted the god's irritated expression. "I'm sorry, is it a sore subject?" he teased.

"I would advise you to stop speaking of it," Loki hissed.

"_Make me_," Tony whispered.

The god's eyes met his suddenly. They were a luminous and stunning shade of green, and were brimming with frustration. The edges of his irises practically emanated light, and deep emerald flecks speckled their way to their core until they faded into a black abyss. Instead of a barren void, however, the glowing orbs seemed to be crawling with energy.

"You are still just standing there," Loki spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Don't rush me."

"Why are you just standing there?" the god questioned, his voice slightly more audible.

"You know I'm not going to let you go."

"I don't care," Loki spat impatiently. The words were frustrated and forced as if his own throat tried to close itself off before he could spout more nonsense. He bit his lip forcefully as he stared into the man's dark eyes, suddenly painfully aware that his own petty desires were visible to the naked eye. The billionaire must have been used to that look. It was no secret that he had a knack for sweeping women off their feet and into his bedroom on a nightly basis.

"Oh?" Tony breathed.

Loki cursed himself for letting the words slip from his grasp. If he had to be entirely honest with himself, he did not truly believe that the man would accept his invitation; he simply wanted to rattle him before bed. Though he desired the despicable chains around his wrists to be removed and he yearned for a comfortable place to rest, suddenly, above all else, he wanted to feel the man's skin against his own. He could smell the scotch on the man's breath and could see the blush in his cheeks, but he knew that his captor was well aware of his growing lack of control over the situation.

Tony took a step closer. The god's pupils were subtly dilated and his lips slightly pursed in what could only be described as an unpleasant resistance against his instincts. He breathed deeply through his nose and they were suddenly dangerously close.

"So you _are_ doing what I think you're doing," Tony murmured.

"I might be," Loki whispered.

He was barely able to say the words before silky lips met his forcefully, and he was smashed against the wall behind him. The man's tongue was fiery and agile as it breached him, and the strong taste of alcohol filled his mouth. He could not stifle a moan, which only caused his captor to press into him further, tangling his hands into his icy black hair.

Tony's heart pumped in his chest as his lips and fingers suddenly coursed with some foreign sensation he'd never experienced. He pulled the god closer to himself and ran his hands against the ivory skin on his neck, the energizing prickling spreading into his palms. Loki was freezing to the touch, but it felt so good against his own flushed skin, burning hot with desire and intoxication.

The man pulled away to catch his breath and their gaze met. Loki's eyelids were heavy and a faint blush crawled across his sculpted cheekbones. Tony bit his lip and his eyes fluttered shut as the god leaned forward and began kissing and nipping his way down from his jaw to his neck. The chilly sensation gave him goose bumps and his breathing quivered as Loki's velvety tongue snaked across his skin.

Tony gasped. The god was suddenly on his knees and pressing a cheek to the inside of his thigh. The man hissed before hurriedly unfastening his jeans and dropping them around his ankles. He bit his lip as he gazed down at the beautiful sight, and Loki glanced up at him for a moment, the corners of his lips curled up in satisfaction.

Tony dropped his head back and gripped the god's icy hair in his hands tightly. Loki kissed at the tender flesh before licking playfully at his throbbing member. He was vulnerable and exposed, but no longer cared. The strangely energizing sensation that emanated from the god's touch pulsed through him now, making him even harder still. He moaned loudly as Loki took his entire length in his mouth, and he suddenly felt dizzy.

His hips bucked forward on their own accord. He wanted to utter an apology, but the god seemed to welcome the motion. Slowly, steadily, he began to rock his hips into Loki's inviting mouth, rubbing himself against those supple lips and that devilishly skillful tongue that twisted and flicked around his leaking head.

Tony placed a heavy palm against the wall to steady himself as he pressed into the god's throat. Loki shut his eyes tightly and moaned against the touch, which sent magnificent vibrations through the man's entire body. Tony's breathing grew exceptionally ragged and he veered dangerously close to orgasm.

The man pulled away and looked down at the gorgeous sight before him. Loki licked his lips, which were rosy and slightly swollen. A hungry smirk graced his porcelain face, and the man pulled him up by his collar.

"You're too good at that," the man murmured, nimble fingers working at the front of Loki's trousers.

"I'm good at a lot of things," the god whispered. His icy breath sent a chill down Tony's spine.

It took a few moments for the man to clumsily pull away the leather pants. He eventually decided that it was worth the effort, however, as the god looked absolutely stunning in nothing more than heavy black boots and a coat of leather and metal.

Loki hissed as the man wrapped one hand around his aching member and the other around the back of his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss. He slid his palms against the cool wall behind him until he found the anchor to his chains protruding from the concrete. He closed his fingers around the metal bar that sat just behind the small of his back, using it to steady himself.

"Take me, Stark."

The man smiled and pulled one of Loki's legs into the air, hooking it over his elbow. Still stroking at the god's hard on, he gently pressed his own between the god's legs.

"Just do it," Loki breathed.

Tony swallowed and gently rocked his hips forward, careful not to cause any pain. Though he had not taken any steps to prepare and did not have any lubricant, he was surprised to find that he slipped inside the inviting cavern without resistance, and decided not to question it. His eyes fell shut and his jaw dropped at the sensation, slick and tight and positively breathtaking.

Loki could not suppress a whimper and he let his head fall back, basking in the sweet caress that he'd gone so long without. The man's throbbing slippery heat filled him completely, and it only took him a moment to adjust.

"Fuck me, Stark," the god whined, and in one fluid motion, he threw his other leg into the air. The man caught it with his free hand and groaned at the amazing new angle. Loki straightened his arms and tightened his grip around the metal bar that was now covered in a thin veil of frost. He pressed his shoulders against the concrete and gasped before wrapping his legs around Tony's waist.

The man chewed at his lip and his eyes trailed over Loki's perfect form. The god's remarkable strength was apparent as he held himself up on already weakened arms as if it was no difficult task. Tony kneaded at Loki's hips as he felt himself being pulled closer by the strong legs wrapped around him. He was no longer setting the pace. His prisoner was in control.

"Take that off," Loki breathed, voice strained as he adjusted his grasp on the anchor behind him. Tony nodded quickly and pulled his shirt over his head, delighted to see the absolutely ravenous expression that spread across the god's satisfied face. "_Fuck_, Stark," Loki exhaled, almost astonished. Tony couldn't help but blush at the comment. It appeared as though his physique was being complimented by a god.

"Harder," Loki whispered as he bit his lip tightly. Tony strengthened his grasp on the god's hips as he thrust into him, suddenly filled with more energy. The way Loki stared gave him a confidence he'd never felt before. He didn't care about impressing the women that mingled with him at parties or clubs; they were simply chasing after an icon. But the way the god seemed to melt at his touch made him feel truly sexy, genuinely desirable as a man rather than a celebrity, and he was determined to return the favor. The god's muscles were quivering and his jaw dropped slightly to accommodate his heavy breaths. He was muttering various profanities, and Tony smirked. Somehow he never thought Loki to be much of a screamer.

"_Stark_," the god moaned, writhing beneath him. Tony's chest heaved as their pace quickened, and he was teetering on the edge of orgasm. He loved the way Loki couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut.

"Fuck," the man muttered as he stroked at the god's hot member. His other arm snaked up behind Loki's back and felt around for the metal anchor. He pressed his thumb against a sensor on the wall and the shackles clicked open at the touch.

Loki reached a hand to the man's face as soon as his wrist was free. He tangled his fingers into the Tony's russet locks, ignoring the ache that seared through his muscles as his other arm attempted to support his weight. He was not trailing far behind.

Tony couldn't hold out any longer. His jaw fell open and a bestial growl resounded in his throat as he came inside the god with three violent thrusts. Loki threw his head back and they came in unison, panting and moaning whilst trying to catch their breath.

The god's arm was trembling and Tony quickly pulled him close before he collapsed, lifting and carrying him to the nearby bed. Loki's body fell limp against the mattress and his face was flooded with exhaustion and pure satisfaction. Tony licked his lips as he admired the sight of the god's heaving chest, tempted to join him in some much needed rest. He couldn't risk it.

He reluctantly pulled on his jeans and tossed a sheet over the god to conceal his manhood. Loki's eyes were closed and his arm hung over the edge of the bed lazily, and he wondered if he'd already fallen asleep. He turned on his heel and walked to the door.

"Leaving so soon?" a silky voice called from over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said simply. He was unable to mask the regret in his voice.

"Shame," Loki whispered.

"Goodnight," the man breathed before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

"I never pinned you for the sympathetic type," said Steve, sipping on a cup of coffee. "When we checked on him this morning he was asleep in the bed."

"Yeah, I figured it was probably better to send him back to Thor without a bunch of complaints," Tony lied. Steve nodded as he thumbed through a newspaper on the table, counting down the minutes until the God of Thunder would arrive.

"Thor is on his way," Natasha said as she entered the room. She fixed a cup of coffee and a bagel for Clint, informing them that he was currently nursing a throbbing headache in the other room. Tony chuckled before finishing off his own cup, and she vaguely heard him ask if the Hawk wanted a glass of scotch.

"There's the chopper," Steve muttered disinterestedly. Tony glanced outside to see the aircraft growing nearer, carrying Thor and the tesseract. "Finally we'll be rid of that annoying brother of his."

"Yeah," Tony replied, trying his best not to sound too disappointed. "I'll go round him up."

He slowly made his way down the stairs and pushed open the heavy door. The god was sitting at the edge of the bed, apparently waiting.

"Stark," the god muttered, nodding.

"Loki," the man replied nonchalantly. "Your… Thor has arrived," he added, careful not to use the dreaded 'B word.' He was unsure why he was going out of his way to avoid offending the god, but his gesture seemed to be appreciated.

"Alright," Loki said softly and stood. He held out his wrists and Tony retrieved the shackles that were strewn across the floor from the previous night. He licked his lips subconsciously as he reminisced, and a smirk played across his lips.

"Don't get into too much trouble," Tony said as he locked the cuffs into place. Loki grinned wickedly.

"I'll try not to," he whispered playfully. Tony nodded and picked up the metal muzzle, much to the god's dismay. Noting Loki's distressed expression he frowned.

"I have to do it. They'll think something's weird if I don't."

"I know," Loki replied sadly. His eyes dropped to the floor, wishing he could have stayed longer. He was not looking forward to whatever punishments lie ahead in Asgard, and he thoroughly enjoyed the billionaire's company the night prior. He could have gotten used to something like that.

"Have a good trip," Tony muttered awkwardly. He was stalling. He wondered if the god was thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, Loki took the man's face in his hands and pressed their lips together softly. It was tender and delicate, nothing like the violent and forceful caresses they'd previously shared in the throes of passion. Something about it took his breath away.

"Perhaps we will meet again someday, Stark."

The man nodded before pressing the cold metal over Loki's lips.


	4. Fragility

**So somehow I knew this would happen. I've been convinced to continue this. I appreciate all the kind and helpful reviews, as well as all the favorites and follows!**

* * *

Loki marched into the living room with elegant poise, the billionaire treading softly behind him. The man seemed so small in comparison. The God of Mischief stood nearly a foot taller than he, and a sickening mixture of confidence and pride emanated from his pores as he eyed his captors menacingly. He could hear the blades of the helicopter slowing in the distance and took a deep breath through his nose, clearly unenthusiastic about his departure to Asgard.

Steve took but a moment to glance up from his paper and gave an indifferent nod. Natasha leaned against the counter nearby, blowing softly at her cup of coffee. The faint wisps of steam tickled at her cheeks, and her piercing gaze locked onto Loki's emerald eyes. She had not forgotten the last words he spoke to her. She reveled in his departure, and the faintest smile played on her lips as she recalled the magnificently sharp sound that her palm made as it came in contact with his face.

Bruce and Clint were nowhere to be found, likely locked up in their rooms waiting for the trickster to be dragged away from their presence.

There was a smile in Loki's eyes as they trailed over The Widow's features. She was watching him closely, and he enjoyed the attention. He could see the anger that lingered deep within her chest and he basked in her judgmental gawk.

His heightened vanity and arrogance quickly faded, however, as his gaze met with that of his brother as he entered from the terrace. Resentment swelled within him as their eyes met, but it was suddenly washed away with a wave of astonishment as his eyes fell upon the face of a beautiful woman behind him.

She was small. She appeared so delicate and full of life, her dark eyes glistening almost as brightly as her glossy hair. She was the only one on the premises wearing a smile, and it made her stand out instantaneously.

This was the woman that Thor cared so dearly about. This was the woman that took precedence over him. Suddenly his heart began to speed, and he was overcome with a strange sensation of jealousy. His towering brute of a brother would listen to her, with her undoubtedly sweet and gentle voice. She could reason with the God of Thunder and convince him of the things that Loki never could. How could a creature so simple and fragile be so important to the god's life? How could she be so much more important than him?

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat, becoming aware that he had abruptly stopped moving. He quickly realized that he was also staring.

"Hello," the woman said softly. There was tenderness in her voice. It was unlike anything he had heard before, with the exception of his own adoptive mother. "I'm Jane."

Loki's eyes narrowed. He was unsure of whom she was speaking to, though she stared directly into his eyes. Her gentleness and innocence was unexpected and discomforting. Surely she knew of the atrocities he had committed. Surely Thor had told her.

He nodded slowly, his muscles acting on their own accord.

"Why is that over his mouth?" she asked, addressing the blonde beside her. "It's not hurting him, is it?"

Loki swallowed once more as he dug his nails into his palms. His eyes quickly darted to the figure at his right, suddenly becoming aware that Tony had been standing beside him.

"It doesn't, but it probably should," Natasha muttered. The brunette woman furrowed her brow.

"That seems a little cruel," she replied under her breath. Loki sighed to himself, realizing that his brother had probably told her too many stories from their youth. She was under the same delusion that he was somewhere within the grasp of being saved, and that all he needed was the love of his family. It was an absurd and worthless idea, a mere illusion. He had no family.

His body shuddered as he felt a warm hand against his cheek. He jerked his head away instinctively and shot the man beside him a menacing glare.

"Calm down, Reindeer Games. I'm just trying to take it off," Tony said, irritated.

Loki nodded reluctantly as the man's calloused fingers grazed against his skin once more, and it sent shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered shut as the cool air touched his lips. It felt so refreshing, and he could not help but breathe a great sigh of relief.

"You must be Loki."

The god's eyes flew open suddenly and found hers within an instant. The corners of his lips curled upward, and he appeared more maniacal, more intimidating than he had with the muzzle concealing his features.

"I think she likes me," he said, the smile quickly spreading across his face. "Do you think I could have a go once you're finished?" the words were coarse and threatening.

The pleasant disposition quickly faded from the woman's face and Thor stepped forward angrily.

"Do not dare speak of her in that manner, Loki," he said, his deep booming voice echoing against the walls.

Loki chuckled as he opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped short as someone else's laughter filled the room. His smile dissipated suddenly as he realized it was Jane.

"It's okay," she said softly, raising an arm and resting it on Thor's shoulder.

Loki chewed the inside of his lip. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her that he was not joking. He wanted her to fear for her life, though he knew in his heart that he meant her no harm. He would not touch her. He did not have it in him. He clenched his fists, painfully aware of the baffled look on his face.

"It's a pleasure to be here," she continued, as if nothing had happened. "I assume that you are Natasha? And of course you're Steve Rogers, lovely to meet you." She gave them each a firm handshake and smiled brightly, though they were not nearly half as enthusiastic as she. "And you, Tony Stark… You have a beautiful home."

"Thanks," Tony replied shortly. It was clear that he was not particularly keen on unexpected visitors.

They nodded and smiled nervously as silence filled the room. Natasha continued to sip at her coffee, which was becoming more lukewarm and less drinkable by the second. Steve avoided eye contact at all costs, and Tony absentmindedly tapped as his arc reactor through his t-shirt. Thor and Loki stared into each other's eyes, centuries of conflict flashing behind them. Jane simply played with her hair.

"Why is she here?" Loki said finally, suddenly gaining the attention of the room. Thor cleared his throat.

"We came to say…" he began, the right words obviously slipping from his grasp. "I do not wish…"

"He wants to stay longer," the woman said finally, hooking her arm around the god's massive bicep.

"I cannot bring her to Asgard. You know this," Thor added miserably before placing his fingertips over the back of her hand. Loki rolled his eyes.

"How special you must feel, darling," the trickster murmured, taking a step closer. "Yet so weak you are. Such fragile beings, mortals…"

"_Loki_—"

"How proud Odin must be of his son. You have grown so soft wasting your time on this pitiful planet amongst its feeble inhabitants." Loki glared across the room, eyes glistening with burning rage as they drifted over the inferior figures around him. "It would be a miracle if your frail body could endure such means of travel required to reach Asgard, and an even greater one if your delicate mind could handle its splendor," he added with a sneer, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the brunette woman.

"That's probably enough, Rock of Ages," Tony said, stepping between them. The man tried to seem nonchalant with his quips and lack of eye contact, but Loki sensed something behind the impassive gaze that was suddenly glued to the floor.

Tony pursed his lips slightly, the thought of his own fragility pounding in the back of his head. He hated the constant reminder that he was not immortal. He was but a vulnerable man despite his money and his suit, and he was in the presence of two Asgardian princes – individuals who had seen more than he could ever begin to imagine, and who could survive even darkest of times with their unmatched resilience and strength.

Something about the reflective look on Tony's face finally brought him to silence, and he merely rolled his eyes.

"May we speak of this further?" Thor inquired softly, addressing the billionaire with the hazy look in his eye. The man nodded.

"Can someone escort our guest downstairs?" Tony asked. His request was met with a deep and disappointed sigh from Steve.

* * *

Loki stood unmoving in the middle of the concrete room. He simply stared toward the corner at the Captain as he sat on the bed, still thumbing through the morning paper.

"What are you doing down here?" the trickster asked quietly. Steve shrugged. "Have you no opinion on the matter in which they discuss?"

"Not really," the man replied impatiently.

"You do not think it dangerous to hold me here while my powers only strengthen?" Again, the man shrugged. Loki was becoming agitated.

The god sighed before taking a few steps nearer, hoping to provoke the mortal to speak.

"Does it not bother you?" he continued.

"Look, I don't know what you're getting at, but you should just quit it," Steve replied, refusing to look up from his reading.

"Surely it must bother you that they do not value your opinion."

The man glanced upward for a moment before returning to his paper. His grip became subtly tighter, and Loki's lips turned up in a smile.

"Ah yes, of course. I place no judgment upon you, Captain. In fact, I understand. I know what it's like for your words to be silenced the moment they escape your lips. I have seen the ideas fade away in your eyes before you can ever express them for fear of being rejected. I can sense the pain in your heart."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat as he fought the urge to look Loki in the eye.

"Fear not, mortal. Your secret is safe with me. However, I must ask… is it safe with you?"

The man lifted his gaze and jumped as he realized that the god was silently looming over him.

"Your tricks aren't going to work on me." Steve spoke calmly, yet his heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest. He casually stood and folded his newspaper, tucking it under his arm. His palms felt clammy and he yearned for fresh air. "You don't know what you're talking about," he added before exiting the room.


	5. An Unexpected Comfort

**Sorry it's taken so long to update. Working a lot lately, and the new semester has finally begun. I have not forgotten, though!**

* * *

The cold air generated a quiet hiss as it rushed through Loki's narrowly parted lips. He paced the room silently, steely gaze never moving from the uneven concrete floor. He was slowly becoming increasingly impatient, not to mention insufferably bored.

His mind began to wander about relentlessly, as it had been doing since his arrival, and his thoughts were inevitably consumed with the implications of his failure to conquer Midgard.

"Reckless fucking fool," he muttered to himself as he shook his head. He glanced around the room self-consciously, annoyed that he'd done it again. He'd been mumbling to himself in excess lately, and it was beginning to take its toll on his already anxious mind. He leisurely cracked his knuckles and attempted desperately to distract himself. Regardless of how hard he tried, however, the thoughts crept through his skull once more, scratching away like nails against a blackboard.

He hated being alone. Being alone meant that he was left with only his thoughts to console him, and at the moment, they were far from comforting. He could dwell only on his failure and the impending doom that awaited him on Asgard. He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind, but the happy memories of his youth had long since trickled away into oblivion and been replaced with crushing darkness and devastating fear. Suddenly, that was all he could remember. He wondered what the Allfather had in store for him.

He clenched his jaw subconsciously. It had developed into a habit that became apparent when his mind was racing and he could not manage to slow it down. Perhaps it calmed him. He was never quite certain the cause, only that it often resulted in aching muscles.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself, pressing his knuckles into his palm until they made a loud crack.

"Loki?"

The voice was quiet and calm. It was full of sadness and trepidation, and the god did not startle. He simply licked his lips and glanced toward the door, somehow previously unaware that he was not alone. The notion was disconcerting considering how difficult it was to sneak up on him. This was definitely taking a toll.

"Thor," he replied indifferently. His eyes fell to the ground once more, and a horrible sting washed over them. The image of his adoptive brother appearing forlorn and upset was burned into his retinas, and he suddenly felt like a child about to be scolded. _He isn't angry, just disappointed. _The tears were burning his eyes.

"Will you not speak to me, brother?" the blonde asked softly. The ache in his voice was apparent. Loki bit his lip, desperate to scream that they were not brothers, despite the countless times he'd already done so. It was not worth the effort.

"There is nothing to speak of," he whispered. His cheeks were flushed in embarrassment of being caught so vulnerable and misplaced. He discreetly turned his face away and pursed his lips, fighting back the tears. He felt wretched and frail, reluctant to acknowledge the countless instances in which Thor had seen him weep, both in their youth and into adulthood. It made him feel inferior, and he somehow understood why his peers always thought him weak. He was a talented liar, but when caught off guard or within the throes of passion, he was suddenly less than capable of concealing his emotions.

"Something troubles you. You cannot hide that from me."

Loki's eyes fluttered shut and he felt something cold and wet slide down the side of his face. He furrowed his brow in response, feeling thoroughly defeated.

"I will not give up, Loki."

The trickster chuckled. It made no difference. He had already given up on himself.

"I know you do not wish to speak to me," Thor continued. Loki could hear the heavy boots grow quieter as he walked away. "I will come back later."

"Don't bother," Loki spat automatically. He could hear a troubled sigh in the distance before the heavy door clicked shut, leaving him in utter silence.

* * *

Jane ran her fingers through her hair awkwardly. She felt so out of place. Her many attempts at small talk had failed, and though she was trying so hard to be friendly, she was the only one willing to make an effort. The people around her were exhausted and frustrated, and there she stood - between them and relief. If only Thor would leave, they would be rid of Loki. She knew that this would be for the greater good, but selfishly could not let him go so soon, just like she selfishly could not go with him. She had a life on Earth that was important to her. She couldn't abandon her work, and she couldn't abandon Darcy. She felt timid and frail, and Loki's words were not encouraging in the least. She knew that he was cruel and deceitful, but secretly wondered if his ramblings bore any truth. Thor invited her into his home, but what if she truly could not fathom it. It was already hard enough to believe in Asgard's existence… how could she possibly comprehend witnessing it firsthand?

Natasha had left the room as soon as Thor returned, likely making her way back to Clint's guest room. She wasn't trying to be rude, she was simply too tired to carry on a conversation.

Steve continued sitting in his chair, reading the paper as if nothing had happened all morning. Thor and Tony exited the room to discuss their current predicament further, and Jane simply stood, glued to the spot, just as awkwardly as before.

"Where is the bathroom?" she asked quietly, glancing around the room.

"Down that hall, fourth door on the left," Steve replied. His brow was furrowed as he stared intently at the page, obviously enthralled with one of the articles.

"Thanks," she said with a nod.

The hallway was large and gorgeously decorated. She stopped every few steps to stare at the colorful canvases – stunning paintings that were undoubtedly expensive originals. She smiled to herself as she admired them, delighted to have something to do rather than wait around uncomfortably in the vast living room.

She curiously peeked into the rooms as she passed them by, only stopping if the doors were already ajar. One was filled with an abundance of books perched gracefully atop many intricate shelves. She longed to sit in such a beautiful study and thumb through them.

Deciding that she was lingering too long, she continued on her way, passing by what appeared to be a well-equipped home theater and another guest bedroom. Finally she reached the bathroom door and pushed it open. She stepped inside to admire it, though she really had no desire to use it. She was simply looking for things to do.

Sighing to herself, she turned on her heel to return to the quiet living room. Perhaps she would ask for a cup of coffee and the bits of newspaper that Steve had already read to busy herself. Again she gazed longingly toward the empty study, but something else caught her eye.

There was a lonely gray staircase that plunged into darkness. It seemed to emanate cold air, and she stood at the top of the steps, eyes narrowing as she gazed into the abyss. This must be where Loki was being held.

She glanced over her shoulder and tapped her finger against the wall. Though she wasn't a particularly reckless person, she was not predominantly timid either. She was fueled by curiosity, and what more curious a creature to interact with than Loki of Asgard? It was a stupid notion, really, but she was certain that he would not harm her. She could not pinpoint the exact reason why she felt this way at all, but something in her gut told her that it was safe to enter the room. Perhaps not entirely pleasant, but safe.

She took a deep breath before embarking into the darkness. The gentle tapping of her soles echoed through the concrete staircase, and she suddenly felt very uneasy. Not one to turn back, she pushed forward, willing her legs to continue until she reached the heavy metal door. For a moment she wondered if she even had the strength to push it open.

The door had barely creaked forward a few inches before she heard a low and soothing voice call out to her.

"Brave girl," Loki said quietly from across the room.

"Hello," Jane greeted as she stepped inside shyly. The sound of his voice was surprisingly calm, nothing like the vulgar and grating tone he had used to insult her earlier in the morning. She let the door slip shut behind her, suddenly wondering if she should have stopped it.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked, raising a brow. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows perched atop his knees. He was playing with his hands.

"I was bored," she answered truthfully. Her response made him smile.

"I suppose that means they do not know you are down here," Loki replied. "What a rebel you are."

"Not entirely," Jane responded with a quiet chuckle. "Are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard, and he could not hide the bewildered expression that invaded his face. "Yes," he responded, somewhat awkwardly.

"Do you need anything?" she added, not entirely sure why she was asking. He somehow did not seem so harmless sitting there, alone and twiddling his thumbs at the edge of the mattress. His attire was somewhat intimidating, as it made him appear tall and broad-shouldered, but there was something about his puzzled expression that made him seem so young. It made him seem so ordinary and so human that she had to consciously remind herself that he was evil.

"No," he replied after a few moments of hesitation. He wondered what she was getting at. Had Thor sent her? Was this some sort of test? "What are you actually doing down here?"

"I told you already. Everyone up there is… well… not in a talkative mood, I guess. I was looking around for something to do, so I thought I would come see you. I thought you might be lonely."

Loki's eyes narrowed. It sent a shiver down her spine, and she wondered if she had offended him. The childlike uncertainty had vanished from his eyes, and he was suddenly quite difficult to read. Was he angry? Was he distraught? Was this room sound-proof?

"You thought that I would want the company of a pitiful mortal like yourself?" he asked condescendingly. She gulped. "How very arrogant of you…"

"We can't all be that bad, can we?" she asked, perhaps stupidly.

He opened his mouth, insults at the ready, but a tender moment played across his memory like a fleeting veil. He was speechless for a moment as he recalled the subtle bitterness of lingering coffee – the silky skin of rosy lips as they touched his own so softly. Smooth hair, velvet tongue, fragrant cloth. The sensations suddenly returned to him at once, and he bit his lip. He could feel the stubble brush against his cheek.

"Oh, but you can," he replied, clearing his throat.

"Shame," she said with a halfhearted smile. "I was hoping you might give me a chance. Thor spoke very highly of you."

"Did he now? How kind of him," the god replied. His words were doubtful and insincere.

The room fell silent. The remnants of a grimace slowly faded from Loki's face, and their eyes remained locked.

She was quite striking. Her long hair fell over her shoulders lightly, softly glittering when she turned her head. Her features were feminine: large round eyes that were full of life, a petite nose, and blushing cheeks. Her lips appeared supple, and she wore little makeup. She was a natural beauty.

"I should get back before they notice I'm gone," she said softly. Her voice was like honey. "Let us know if you need anything. I'm sure Tony's got some cameras around to get our attention." The corner of Loki's lip crept upward on its own accord, but he quickly intervened. Something about that voice of hers was comforting.


	6. Hollow

Innocence. The entire household was void of it. It had become a barren wasteland of corruption and guilt, of violence and misplacement. Blood stained every palm, every suit, and every conscience.

All but one.

Loki thought of her voice. It was genuine and unwavering – truly unique amid such a wretched sea of lost, yet self-righteous "heroes." He could still hear her words echoing in his mind, though she had left him hours ago. Something about it was enthralling, but what was the use of dwelling on it?

His eyes grew wide as he sat on the bed, knees pulled into his chest. How long had it been since he spoke to someone truly innocent? How long since he last heard the tender hum of a woman's voice? How long since he'd caught himself sincerely believing in the words of someone else?

Perhaps it was all a delusion. He'd never met her, after all. Perhaps she was a skillful liar, much like himself. She could be acting on Thor's behalf. She could be manipulating him.

He recalled the sparkle in her eyes.

She was innocent. She had to be. Something about the notion made his skin crawl. Her presence in the household caused his heart to beat more rapidly. He could hear it pounding in his ears, growing louder by the second. The nerves were building inside his stomach, and a sudden urge to cause her pain overcame him. He was a monster. It was in his blood.

The others were easy. They were so overcome with their own checkered pasts that they became fragile and easily manipulated – they could be broken. He had turned them against each other once before. It would take more than a few days to overcome so much volatility; he simply had to wait. Thor's infatuation with the mortal girl could buy him the time he needed to recover his strength. But what then? Where would he go? The Chitauri would surely hunt him.

His return to Asgard was inevitable. He had to bite his lip and bide his time. These barren concrete walls and prying lenses – perhaps this was truly a more favorable situation than his alternatives. Perhaps it was not so bad.

He felt angry, suddenly, though he did not know why. The woman emanated an inexplicable comfort that made him feel pacified, yet quite ill, all at the same time.

Midgardians were truly an inferior race. Innocence was weakness, after all.

Raw frustration and anger filled the room, so thick that it was almost tangible. Thor's brow was in a permanent furrow, and Tony was already drinking.

"I guess Fury wasn't happy?" Natasha asked quietly. A lock of fiery hair fell in front of her azure eyes, and she stared at the counter in front of her. They had been gone for ages it seemed, arguing with the man about Thor's request.

"My brother is no longer a threat," Thor spat, and Tony rolled his eyes. He'd heard this ramble twice already, rephrased and rearranged, yet always the same. "He has grown weary from this battle, and his army has been vanquished. There is nothing left for him on Midgard. He will return to Asgard without hostility, and he will cause us no harm. I swear it."

"How could you know that?" Natasha replied, her narrow eyes piercing through the tension in the room.

"I swear it!" Thor growled, slamming his fist against the wall. The redhead was fuming, unwilling to accept the words as truth as they spilled from the mouth of a biased and deluded source. She had seen the animosity and disgust that writhed inside the trickster's brooding gaze when he looked her in the eye. "I will stay close to ensure that he behaves. Fury may be upset, but the Tesseract is under my control now."

"It's just a few days, if that," Tony added. He pursed his lips and tapped his glass with his fingertips, heart still beating rapidly. He knew Fury would not take their request kindly, but he was somehow still angry and affronted. They had just defeated an entire army of aliens that had set out to conquer the world, yet he still did not trust them to babysit Thor's little brother.

"I must speak with Loki," Thor bellowed anxiously, but a soft hand landed delicately upon his shoulder. His muscles contracted for a moment before relaxing against the touch, and he let out a deep sigh.

"He will be fine. Let's go for a walk, okay?" Jane murmured. Her smile calmed him, and he nodded.

* * *

"What if Thor's wrong about Loki?" Natasha asked before sipping at a glass of water. Tony shrugged silently and squinted his eyes, which were bloodshot and glassy by then. He'd been drinking casually all day, switching between coffee and scotch.

"There isn't much we can do about it at this point," he replied, stealing a glance toward the couch. Clint and Steve were sprawled out at either end watching something on TV. "He hasn't tried anything yet. I know we can't trust him, but what Thor said makes sense. I mean, what would he do, even if he did escape? He can't go anywhere without the Tesseract. He would be stuck."

Natasha nodded, though she didn't want to accept it. Even if the god had nowhere to go, what was stopping him from going on a vengeful killing spree? Tony didn't wear his suit around the house, and as much as she hated to admit it, she and Clint were only human. The only immediate threats that Loki would be faced with were Banner and Rogers, and how would they know how to combat Asgardian magic? Their prior efforts were spent fighting the Chitauri, so none of them truly knew his full potential. What kind of powers did he possess? How skilled a fighter, one on one?

"They've been gone for hours," she said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"They'll be back soon," Tony replied, emptying the remaining liquid into his mouth.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Thor and Jane returned, and Tony was the only Avenger left standing. Or, rather, lying spread-eagled in his pajamas with a half-empty bottle of scotch on the coffee table next to him.

"I'm sorry it's so late," Jane whispered. "It's so nice out."

Tony nodded and assured them that it was not a problem before showing them to their room for the night. Thor thanked him in the softest voice he could muster, though it still seemed to vibrate the walls. Jane giggled and bade the man goodnight before gently pressing the door shut with a quiet click.

Tony stood outside for a moment, leaning against the wall. It felt cool to the touch, and made him feel refreshed. He leaned his head back and sighed soundlessly, arms outstretched against the smooth surface. A shiver scuttled across his bones, and he felt goose bumps rising on his skin. He licked his lips. The sensation reminded him of something.

Without sparing a moment, he hurriedly scampered down the hall, careful not to cause any commotion. His heartbeat began to quicken, and he slapped his palm over his mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. He rolled his eyes as he realized his utter resemblance to a school girl. A belligerent school girl.

Each new step he took down the concrete staircase seemed colder than the last. He let the tips of his fingers drag along the walls, both to steady himself and to feel the subtle change in temperature as he plunged deeper into darkness, closer to his prisoner.

His heart was racing now, full of terror – full of excitement. The scotch was catching up to him, as it always did, and he became knowingly and unapologetically reckless in his inebriation.

"Is it truly so exhilarating for you mortals to sneak down here like this?" Loki asked casually as the man stumbled inside. He raised a brow when he realized Tony's compromising state.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, shutting the door behind him. His face was contorted into an animated expression, likely to signal that he was trying to be particularly sneaky this night.

"First you, and then that woman," Loki replied matter-of-factly. The man rubbed his eyes.

"Agent Romanoff?"

"No," the god answered lazily. "The scientist."

Tony blinked his eyes, allowing them to adjust in the dim florescent lighting. His vision was slightly blurred, but after a few moments, his gaze fell upon the God of Mischief, lying stick straight on the bed with his hands behind his head.

"She came down here?"

Loki nodded before crossing his legs at the ankle. Even he wasn't sure why he'd brought it up.

"What did she want?" Tony asked.

"Nothing, actually," the god replied, wrinkling his forehead. The idea made no sense to him either.

Loki shifted slightly, burrowing himself into the mattress like a small animal building its nest. The sight brought a smile to Tony's face, and he wondered why they were being so civil. He found the lack of snarky returns almost boring.

"So, what did you do today?" the man instigated with a smirk. His question was met with an irritated glare.

"Oh, you know," the god muttered. He was tired and uninterested, and somewhat sick to his stomach due to lack of nourishment. It was his own fault, however, as he continuously refused food from anyone that offered. He stole a glance in Tony's direction before closing his eyes.

Loki could feel the man's gaze on him, and he took measured, quiet breaths. He fought the odd tickle of self-consciousness that slithered across his skin as Tony's eyes trailed over his body. He brought his arms down to his sides awkwardly.

His chest rose and fell slowly, delicately, and for a moment they were frozen in time.

He could feel the subtle changes around him, the man's soundless body growing closer, and he took a deep breath as if he was diving into the ocean.

The movements were rough and sudden, and he was quickly engulfed in warmth. He kept his eyes shut tightly and his body rigid despite the shiver that dashed up his spine. The man was straddling him, groin pressed firmly against his own, with heavy hands positioned on his shoulders. Something about it was discomforting. It felt intrusive.

The smell of alcohol filled the god's nostrils, and the fingers began to tighten on his skin. The man slowly lowered himself flat upon his chest, and their faces could be no more than a few centimeters apart. Still, he would not open his eyes. The nerves were building in his stomach, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Was this fear? Excitement? His chest felt hollow, and he could almost hear the pounding of his heart.

Coarse stubble caressed Loki's cheek, and the air simply escaped from his lungs. It was quiet, lasting only a moment, but he knew the man could hear it. He clenched his fists.

A scotch-soaked mouth pressed violently against his own, and his skin immediately felt raw and beaten. The man was impatient, sucking and biting at his lips rigorously, moaning into the kiss. It was hard for him to breathe, and he palmed the bedding anxiously. A familiar taste lingered in his mouth, and he wondered if he was bleeding.

Loki inhaled sharply as the man pulled away, and he hissed as ravenous teeth clamped over his jugular. His jaw fell open, but there was no sound. He tried to force the words together – any words – but they only caught in his throat. His panicked heartbeat made his chest feel as though it was caving in, and he dug his heels into the mattress.

He felt dizzy now, stomach empty and breathing labored. The weight on his torso was tremendous, and he pressed the back of his head into the mattress, writhing in response to the relentless assault that crept toward his collarbone.

Loki's eyes darted open and he trembled. His mind had wandered off, having gotten lost somewhere along the way, and he was suddenly naked and pressed against the wall. His forehead wrinkled slightly in dazed confusion as he tried to figure out how the man before him, in his thorough intoxication and general ungainliness, managed to tear the clothes from his body so swiftly.

His jaw fell open and his body tensed, his palm pressed flat against the concrete beside him. His body recoiled instinctively and wondered for a moment if it was out of subconscious protest.

Again his throat closed around any words he attempted to formulate, and before he could take a breath, Tony's hands were upon him. They danced across his abdomen and kneaded at his thighs, and in a dizzying muddle of clashing sensations they found their way to his cock, impatiently waiting and throbbing with anticipation.

The man was coaxing from him noises he did not realize he could make. They sounded curiously like cries of pleading, his vulnerability brazenly on display, and though Tony spoke no words, his eyes seemed to boldly scream, "You are mine now."


End file.
