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Obloquy	By : AislingSiobhan Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 5554 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Avengers, Tony, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.

Chapter List
- 1-Obloquy
- 2-Chapter 02
- 1
- 2
Yes, more Avengers. But this is the Muzzle!Kink story, but it sort of ran away with me… and turned into an epic love/angst-story, instead of the PWP oneshot it was supposed to be. But there’s plenty of Muzzle!sex at least. Enjoy?

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“Obloquy”

Disclaimer: The Avengers, Tony, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: [Tony/Loki] Tony spent a lot of his time under the influence of alcohol, usually resulting in blatantly awful ideas and leading to some rather unsavoury situations. Attempting to seduce the bound and gagged Norse God of Mischief had to be one of his better ideas.
Warnings: Slash. Tony/Loki. Through and post-Avengers. Missing Scene. Language. AU. Creepiness. FrostIron. Muzzle!sex… Slightly dub-con. Mentions of past rape. Implied possibility of mpreg.
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: Was having a conversation on LJ, and this came up, and oh my god… I am disturbed. But this was so fucking hot in my head; hopefully it translated well, to, well, not paper, but well! (aislingsiobhan (dot) tumblr (dot) com / post / 26084370535 / fanfic-flamingo See the second two)
Title: Obloquy (noun). Meaning: disgrace; shame; infamy; ignominy; disfavour; dishonour; humiliation; disrepute; mortification; misery. It just sounded cooler than ‘degradation’.

XXX

Words: 9,336
Chapter 1/2
Tony should have known that things were never as easy as they appeared to be. Fighting the Chitauri was difficult, yes, but in the scheme of things, (in his sphere of things), they had only lost one man: Coulson. Loki had allowed himself to be captured, had allowed SHIELD to take him back to the Helicarrier and attempt to contain him. But now that the Chitauri were all dead, blown sky high – or higher than the sky in this case – and right about the time that Tony would have been running for the hills if he had been the one to stir this shit up, Loki sat calmly at the base of the stairs in Tony’s bar room, smiling tiredly up at them.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that drink now,” Loki said, attempting a one shouldered shrug, because he couldn’t actually move his left shoulder all that much right now.

It was too easy, too simple, Tony thought as he poured Loki the drink he had promised him earlier. He poured himself one while he was at it, and then another for himself while Loki drank his first. Tony dealt in problems, in solving them, and the harder they were to crack the more he enjoyed them. Loki was a puzzle, one of the Sunday Times mind-melting crosswords where all of the clues were rhymes without rhyme or reason and only the truly dedicated ever finished them, but Tony had figured Loki out earlier. But he couldn’t figure him out now, and that irked him.

Tony poured himself a third drink, watching curiously as Clint dragged Loki to his feet. The rest of the team ignored the way Loki hissed, his right arm moving instinctively to clutch at his left shoulder, before Natasha was there, grabbing it, pulling it behind Loki’s back and pinning it there. They handcuffed his hands behind his back, and Loki grimaced with every footstep he was forced to take, and he bit his bottom lip so that he wouldn’t cry out as Thor grabbed hold of his broken arm and dragged him to the landing helicopter.

They all managed to fit inside, but it was a tight squeeze, and Loki ended up pressed against the side of Tony Stark. He shifted, mostly from pain, unable to find a comfortable position to rest in and also because every time he brushed against the human, Tony had to stifle a gasp.

To distract himself from his own unease, Tony glanced at Hulk who was huddled up in the corner, as far away from anyone else as he could manage. The others cringed away from the other guy, except Thor who still thought of all humans as tiny and petty, and Tony whose life had been saved twice by the Big Guy and who wasn’t afraid of him for his own reasons. Loki especially cringed away, trying to sink into the seat whenever Hulk so much as twitched in his direction.

“You really worked him over, big fella, huh?” Tony chuckled, taking a swig from the nagan of whiskey he had brought along with him. Of his whole tower, the bar had survived with the least damage, but Tony planned to do a little damage of his own to it as soon as he was debriefed and released from SHIELD.

“Hulk smash,” the Hulk agreed gruffly, glancing curiously at the man of metal that grinned back at him proudly.

Loki hurt, he hurt terribly. But he had had worse. He tried not to think of the Chitauri, or of Thor pinning him down while Odin sewed his mouth shut, or of Svaðilfari for his first time, tearing him in two. Instead, he thought of vengeance and defeat and how one could be achieved through the other, without power, without an army. He only needed one other to help him, just one, and Loki thought of Tony Stark and the way the man pressed against him unwillingly, but unwilling to pull away simultaneously, and Loki could smell the desire upon him like cologne. It was strong, and heady, and it made Loki’s head spin from more than the pain or the fear or the humiliation.

So he pressed closer to Tony, his side plastered to Tony’s side, every inch touching, and Loki turned his upper body so that he could rest his head on Tony’s shoulder as he pretended to fall asleep. He didn’t smirk, though he wanted to, as one by one the others fell asleep and the Hulk turned back into Bruce, and Tony stayed awake carding his fingers through Loki’s hair.

Tony still thought it had gone too easily, even after they had arrived at SHIELD’s backup base. Loki’s hands were still cuffed behind his back, and Tony’s head was buzzing from the alcohol, but everyone else bar the pilot was still sleeping. Soldiers were running towards them, decked out in full riot gear, blacked out masks pulled down to protect their faces and guns raised before they’d even reached the helicopter. Tony, figuring it was best to get this over with as soon as possible, to get Loki locked up before he tried anything because fuck everyone knew Loki was going to try something, moved to wake Thor.

He stopped though; arm outstretched to poke Thor who slept on Loki’s other side. Tony glanced down, wary but not altogether disgusted (though that thought disgusted him, because fuck it all he was finally in a functional monogamous relationship with a woman he loved, so he shouldn’t be reacting to this), and Loki nuzzled sleepily against his chest again, moaning ‘Stark’ softly as he woke up. Blood rushed south, and Tony swallowed heavily regretting the fact that he hadn’t brought a bigger bottle with him because he suddenly wanted a drink: it would occupy his hands and his mouth and shut up his brain, because the thoughts he was having? They weren’t something he’d want to share with the rest of the Avengers.

Loki, who hadn’t been asleep at all, grinned softly into Iron Man’s chest. His elbow was by Tony’s lap, but through the metal he couldn’t feel a reaction, though the human had certainly had one.

“I want you,” Loki whispered, still pretending to be half asleep. He glanced up, eyes heavy lidded and mouth parted, panting shallowly as if he had just woken from a very imaginative dream, and Tony’s eyes almost rolled back in his head.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Tony said instead, pulling down the face plate of his helmet and shaking Loki’s shoulder. “You awake yet? Good. Thor, wake up, come on!”

Thor stirred feebly. The god grunted something and turned his face away from Tony’s prodding finger. Tony poked him harder. Unfortunately, Tony had to lean across Loki to reach Thor. Loki regretted that his hands were tied behind his back and not at his front. Instead, he raised a knee, running it lightly across Tony’s leg, forcing back the self-satisfied smirk that threatened to burst across his face as Tony shuddered under his touch.

Someone pounded on the door of the helicopter. The pilot leaned back over his seat, noticed that Tony was moving and shouted, “Open her up will you, Stark?”

His voice did what Tony’s questing hands had failed to do, and Thor shot off his seat like he had been electrocuted. His hammer was in his hand, and immediately scathing comments were dripping from Loki’s tongue like poison.

“Hold your tongue, brother, lest you lose the privilege of using it,” Thor threatened, angry and tired and sore.

“It would not be the first time you forced such brutality upon me, brother!” The word was spat like it was a curse, and Thor turned away in shame, looking like he regretted his comment, but then more vitriol followed, like water after a dam had been burst, and Thor shut Loki up the only way he knew how. Loki would have held his hand to his cheek if he could have, but he settled for turning his face away, beating down the magic inside of him that had already healed his shoulder, arm and leg, and sought to heal his bruised cheek. Leave it there, his mind said, let everyone know how noble my brother truly is, he told his magic.

Tony glanced at the bruise, wincing slightly, because Loki was tied up and beat up and it didn’t seem right to keep beating on him when he was relatively defenceless. But he’d had enough sympathy for the devil for today, Tony told himself, ignoring the way that Loki was keeping the bruised cheek facing him as Thor woke the others up.

“What did you think you were going to achieve, Rudolph?” Tony asked, hoping for another clue to put towards all of the others, one more piece of the puzzle.

Loki ignored the name that was likely another Midgardian insult. But he turned to fully face Tony again, a small smile curving his lips up, and he looked beautiful. It took Tony’s breath away for a moment, and the man had to shake himself and remind himself that this man – god, being, wanker, whatever – was a murderer and so very, very dangerous and Tony had enough dangerous vices as is without adding one more to his repertoire.

“What I wanted.”

Tony gave a soft snort. He grabbed one of Loki’s bound arms, waiting until Natasha had the other, before they started pulling him from the helicopter. “And what did you want?” Tony asked sometime later, as he led Loki towards his new cell. There was no glass this time, just feet upon feet of reinforced concrete and a nifty little spell Fury had arranged for Dr Strange to cast with little to no notice. Loki wasn’t escaping from this one, no matter who came to rescue him.

“And what was it you wanted? Glory, infamy, the money? Cause I have to tell you, supervillians don’t actually earn all that much in the comics. They do get beat up a lot though, but you’d know all about that already, right?” Tony opened the door, and pushed Loki through it.

Loki turned, that strangely appealing half smile still on pale pink lips. “The question, Stark,” the sound of his name, in that breathy whisper, made Tony’s legs shake from desire, “is what you want!” Loki surged forward, and for one second Tony thought ‘shit, I knew it had been too easy, he’s going to fucking kill me’, but then cold, chapped lips were pressed against his and Loki’s chest was bumping against his as the man stumbled without arms to help keep his balance. But Tony’s hands were on Loki’s waist, holding him up and holding him steady, and Loki pressed his mouth harder, parted his lips a little, and invited Tony’s tongue inside to play.

Tony had never been one to refuse a lady, or well, male god in this case, and kisses were kisses right? Loki found himself pressed back against the wall, beside the door, outside of the cell he should have been contained in. His hands were pinned behind his back still, and Tony’s mouth devoured his furiously.

“What do you want, Stark?” Loki whispered after Tony had pulled away from him to breathe. “I know what I want.” Vengeance, and revenge, and death, and degradation, and humiliation, and anger, and shame, and punishment, and glory, and praise, and pride, and love, and want, but he couldn’t have any of those things yet. Not yet. But for now this would do. And so he kissed Tony Stark again.

Tony kissed back, drowning in the taste of Loki in his mouth, the knowledge that he was bound and defenceless (but not really and that was the thrill, Loki was letting him do this, Loki wanted this) turned Tony on more than anything else ever had, more than anyone he had ever experienced. He almost felt guilty for cheating on Pepper, but honestly, she knew him better than he knew himself, and how often did one get the opportunity to fuck a god? The bragging rights alone were worth Pepper’s hurt, and her anger Tony’s could bribe her out of, just like he always did with her disappointment.

Loki tasted like morphine, addicting and freeing and light. Tony almost didn’t hear the voices of the soldiers who were meant to be guarding Loki for the night. They were taking it in shifts of four at a time, every five hours, and they rounded the corner just as Tony pulled back and shoved Loki away from him. Coincidence would have it that Loki fell backwards through the open doorway, sprawling across the floor with his arms pinned and his legs spread invitingly, and through the pain and humiliation and the laughter from the guards Loki noticed Tony lick his lips. Loki smirked, because he knew what Tony wanted.

Tony left after closing the door and locking it. He left Loki in the care of the guards, surprised to note that there were no cameras around.

Tony went back to SHIELD, and then to Pepper, and he started work on rebuilding his tower. All the while, the taste of Loki lingered on his lips, and burned through his veins like morphine, and once the effects wore off, once Tony had come down from the high that was his newest vice, he craved.

XXX

Tony spent a lot of his time under the influence of alcohol. Such time usually resulted in Tony having blatantly awful ideas and leading to some rather unsavoury situations. Visiting Loki a second time, kissing him a second time was one of those really bad ideas that he’d had while drunk, but like a drug Loki burned his way through Tony’s system and left Tony wanting more afterwards. Always more.

Tony had got drunk again, so drunk he couldn’t quite see straight, but he’d managed to bribe the guards watching Loki into letting him inside for a little while. He’d told them he was experimenting with magic and that Fury would fucking love him when he was done, and they’d taken his money and returned his shit-eating-grin and let him into the cell. Loki had lain, hands tied behind his back and one leg chained to the bed, fast asleep, while Tony installed his own surveillance system inside the cement box room.

It was like an obsession, a dependency. Tony’s fingers literally twitched if he didn’t get to see Loki, hear him, or kiss him at least once every two days.

It was taking weeks to sort out Loki’s punishment: Thor wanted to bring him to Asgard; Odin felt earth should decide Loki’s fate in this lifetime and Jötunheimr his fate in the next since gods lived much longer than humans did and the Midgardians would die first. Thor wanted to bring Loki to Asgard; Fury wanted him boiled in tar, maybe feathered too for spite, or dragged through the street naked behind Captain America on his motorcycle. Tony didn’t really want to know what went through Fury’s mind when he was angry, because his curses were colourful enough without the, likely traumatising, mental picture that went with them.

It was during the third week that Tony watched, knocking back tequila like it was water, as Loki finally pushed Thor too far. Thor had been Loki’s firmest supporter, his only defender but Loki had said something about ‘Jane’ and leered at Thor while licking his lips. There might have been something there about Loki escaping solely to give this Jane what she was obviously missing out on from Thor, something about her not coming looking for more whereas Loki had Stark salivating over him at every opportunity… or, you know, something to that effect. Tony wasn’t quite sure what was actually said and what he had hallucinated, because he’d had to shake his head quite a few times to clear it when he finally realised Thor was screaming and not pleading.

Tony shook his head again, rubbing angrily at his eyes as they blurred. There were two Thors in the room. And then there was one, and then there was none. Thor was gone from the room, but the door was still open. Loki was chained to the bed, but he seemed to have realised he’d gone too far for once, and while he desperately tried to pry the chain from one ankle with the other foot, writhing uncomfortably on his bound hands, Tony went to throw water on his face.

When he came back, Loki was screaming that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant it.

“STARK!” He screamed, writhing beneath Thor, who sat straddling Loki’s pinned legs. The arms were still cuffed behind his back, and his chest bowed up uncomfortably so that he wouldn’t break his wrists. “I know you are watching me! Help me!”

“That is enough, brother! You go too far. I gave you chance upon chance to silence yourself, but now I am left with no choice but to do it for you.”

Tony couldn’t see what Thor is doing; just his hands moving, up and down, or back and forth, pulling and pushing something over Loki’s face. Loki had screamed at first, as the needle pierced his skin, once, twice, three times, until he could make no other sounds but desperate whimpers and terrified huffs of breath through his flaring nose. When Thor climbed off of Loki, looking subdued and immediately regretful, his anger having faded, there was blood on his hands and flecked across his beard. Loki’s mouth was a bleeding, beautiful mess, held closed by thick black twine and eight perfectly neat stitches. At the sight of it, of Loki broken but beautiful, eyes green and wide and angry, Tony felt the blood rush straight to his cock.

When Thor was gone, and Loki had stopped rubbing his face against his shoulder as if trying to pull the stitches out miraculously, Nick Fury appeared in his doorway. Tony had already passed out drunk. Fortunately, he spilt his tequila across his laptop’s keyboard and short-circuited the motherboard. Fury had turned up, after hearing Thor’s side of the story and the comments Thor had innocently repeated about Tony salivating (“But it meant nothing! My brother lies, it is what he does. The man of iron would never betray his Lady Potts in such a way, sir!” Thor had protested), bursting into Tony’s room, and knocking the laptop on the floor in his rush to grab at Tony’s shoulders and shake him awake.

Tony couldn’t remember much, and Tony could barely move his head without throwing up, and eventually Fury left. When Tony had sobered up a little, read: Bruce had brought him pain killers and water and a fry up, he went to inspect his laptop. The computer was fried, but Tony could fix it, because that was what he did. He fixed things and solved problems, and as he fixed the computer he thought about the puzzle that was Loki, and he tried to remember if everything he did remember contrary to what he told Nick had actually happened or if he had hallucinated some of it. All the while, he drank again, and by the time the computer was fixed, Loki had had those stitches through his lips for over twenty-four hours and Tony was just drunk enough to do something stupid and remember enough to regret it later.

XXX

The guards had all obviously heard Loki’s screams the day before, and they’d probably all stared completely unabashed as Thor walked out of the cell spattered with blood. They stared and grinned now too, the day after, as Tony stumbled drunkenly towards them down the long, narrow corridor. Loki’s cell door was plain and titanium, with no handle; the guards had to open it using a complicated procedure involving magnets and pressure points, and it was time consuming but it meant that no one could rescue Loki without their help and that Loki couldn’t get out from the inside either.

“Hey fellas!” Tony greeted cheerily. He held a half-full litre bottle of cheap vodka in one hand and the other was tucked into his pocket, squeezing anxiously around a bottle of lube. “How’s it hanging?”

One of the guards snorted. “This must be his lucky week,” he said sarcastically, nodding his head at the cell as if Tony didn’t know who ‘his’ was referring to already.

Tony thought about Loki kissing him, angry and passionate, of Loki asking him what he wanted, of Loki telling him that all of this, that everything that had happened in the last month, had happened so that Loki could get what he wanted. And then Loki had kissed Tony. Was Tony what Loki wanted?

Fuck, Loki was what he wanted, all Tony could think about when there was nothing else to occupy his thoughts. He even dreamed of the god, imagined him writhing beneath him, begging for more. He had been too drunk to dream last night, and for most of yesterday, and too hungover this morning, but for the last few hours, as the sun began to set all Tony could think about was Loki beneath him, silent, with his mouth stitched shut. It said something about Tony’s psyche that that thought got him hard, but whether it was a good thing or bad thing, Tony hadn’t quite decided yet.

“Yeah, real lucky,” Tony agreed, allowing his lips to curve up lecherously. One of the guards turned away with a flush, obviously coming to the sort of conclusion that Tony couldn’t say was too far from the truth. “So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get lucky too.”

He shouldn’t have said that, because who was going to believe that Loki would be willing, bound and gagged and trapped? But he had said it, and it couldn’t be taken back, and Tony and Loki would know the truth, and so would his cameras so what did it matter. Tony offered a grin, shrugged one shoulder and took a swig of his vodka. The guards opened the door, one even wished him luck while another begged him to make it hurt. Tony nodded at them both, but he let the words wash over him unheard. His attention was focused solely on Loki.

Tony didn’t think SHIELD would be made up of the kind of people that couldn’t stand to look at the damage they’d done. Fury seemed to be the sort to take pleasure in it, cringing while it happened, but then staring and savouring after the fact especially if it could be considered a win from him. Thor’s actions had been deplorable, even if Tony thought Loki looked hot with the stitches in. He had even been looking forward to running his fingers over the thread, to feeling the way Loki’s lips gave way beneath them at his touch. But looking at the god now, still chained by one leg to the bed and his arms cuffed behind his back, Tony understood what Fury had been doing in the cell after Thor left.

A chunky silver contraption covered Loki’s lower face. It went from just under his nose to the curve of his chin, and came around behind his ears to close together at the base of his skull. His hair hung limply over it, except for when Loki turned his head to glare, eyes on Tony as the man walked from one side of the bed to the other to take in as much of the muzzle as possible.

Tony reached out a hand, brushing his fingers lightly along the top of the muzzle. He could poke the tip of his finger down the gap between the muzzle and Loki’s face, which, Tony figured, meant that it wasn’t the metal thing keeping Loki quiet: it wasn’t tight enough; it wasn’t fitted over his tongue. It was only there so that no one would have to look at the Asgardian and remember what one of Earth’s ‘mightiest heroes’ did to him.

“I don’t like it,” Tony murmured, lowering his own face to press a kiss over the front of the muzzle. Loki looked surprised, his eyes widening and his eyebrows rising into his hair line. “The stitches were much sexier.” Loki would probably be scowling or sneering if he could move his lips without tearing the stitches. His green eyes narrowed at Tony and he kicked out with his free leg, trying to push the human away from him.

Loki tried to scramble away as Tony moved to straddle him, but there was nowhere for him to go. His back was already against the headboard, and his chained leg was stretched out as much as possible and there was no slack left in the chain.

“Hey,” Tony whispered, running the fingers of one hand softly across Loki’s cheek when the god looked terrified for a second before managing to hide it. “I’m not here to hurt you. I was thinking about what you said. About what I want. I know what I want now, god knows I’ve thought about it enough, but what do you want?” Both of Tony’s hands were on Loki’s face now, covering as much pale flesh as they could, his palms pressed against cold metal. “This?” He asked, lowering his head to kiss the muzzle again in lieu of the god’s lips, and one of his hands slipped down to trace a line down Loki’s throat. “If you don’t, if I misunderstood, tell me.”

Loki narrowed his eyes again, back arching to take some of the pressure off of his bound wrists. Tony thought he looked a bit like a cat hissing in displeasure, and a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

“I know you can’t talk, Rock of Ages. But you could kick me or head butt me or something, right?” Tony moved to rest his forehead against Loki’s.

Loki thought about it, glancing over Tony’s shoulder at the camera he knew the man had installed over the doorway. He thought of how much he hated this, hated all of them, Thor especially for silencing him again and Tony for watching it happen but not helping him, and then of how much he couldn’t deny he wanted Stark even as he despised him. He raised his chin. Tony tensed, expecting to be head butted, but instead Loki pressed his muzzled mouth against Tony’s, like the genius had done earlier, and Tony smiled into the pseudo-kiss.

Tony wasn’t sure how to undress Loki while he was tied up the way he was. Instead, he settled for pulling the bottle of lube out of his pocket and dropping it on the bed. He rifled through his pockets for a moment, seated in Loki’s lap as the god stared up at him through heavy lidded eyes.

“Aha!” Tony crowed triumphantly as he pulled out a tiny piece of metal from one of his pockets, obviously having been put there to hide the evidence of something Tony had broken. He considered for a moment whether he’d be able to use it to pick the locks on the handcuffs, but the metal wasn’t the right shape and Tony had nothing with him that could melt it down or bend it without cutting his hands open. Instead, he placed the metal at the hollow of Loki’s throat, smirking slightly as his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed heavily in fear. Tony cut through his shirt, ripping straight down the material, before moving forward so that he could mouth kisses across the pale chest. He stopped occasionally to worry a nipple between his teeth, before carrying on kissing every inch of flesh his mouth could find.

Beneath him, Loki writhed, silent. His eyes were wide open and his nostrils flared, but no sound escaped his bound lips.

Tony pulled Loki, so that he was flat against the bed and Tony could reach his stomach, whereas before he couldn’t because Loki’s belt had been in the way. As his body pressed down on his arms, Loki went still from the sudden surge of pain. His wrists hurt, his shoulders ached, and lying on top of his bound hands made him grit his teeth.

“Does it hurt, like this?” Tony asked, perceptive even while drunk. “Here,” he added, moving his hands to Loki’s left side and pushing him, “turn over.”

As humiliating as the idea of being taken from behind like a whore or a dog was for Loki, it was better than spending the entire occasion whimpering from pain beneath another partner who didn’t care if they injured him. At least Stark was thoughtful in that respect. He wanted this and he wanted to enjoy it, and enjoying it meant experiencing pleasure not pain, especially not the sort that he wasn’t causing. Loki allowed himself to be turned, his cheeks burning with shame as he twisted a little to get comfortable. His face was pressed against his pillow, and his arms were still behind his back but were now also bound by the leftovers of his shirt. Tony was seated on his thighs now, and when he leant forward Loki could feel his erection press against his arse.

“You are so hot,” Tony whispered against one of Loki’s shoulder blades, mouthing at the bone.

Tony kissed across Loki’s back and shoulders, his mouth moving to suck lightly on either side of his neck leaving dark red marks in his wake. Loki whimpered, a strange desperate sort of sound that escaped through the stitches, as something bubbled low in his stomach. He found himself arching back against Tony’s touches, so different to Svaðilfari’s mounting of him, rough and animalistic and so wholly unwelcomed, or of Fandral after Loki had lost that bet in his youth, forcing the younger man to his knees, forcing his mouth open and choking him for spite. ‘A better use for your Silvertongue’, Fandral had told him, shoving Loki onto his stomach while the boy had sputtered and coughed, spitting out the other’s release, and forcing attentions Loki didn’t want before he had a chance to refuse them.

But this was so very different.

When Loki wanted, he took. He was never taken, not since then, not since he had learnt to defend himself, to hurt others before they hurt him. He had half expected that Tony would fight with him for dominance, and he had known once SHIELD chained him that Tony would win by default, but he had expected to cringe his way through this, to get what he wanted one way or another even if he didn’t quite enjoy the process. But he had never expected to actually want this as well.

When Tony kissed him, something burned in Loki’s chest and beneath his skin where the lips had touched him. Desire flourished inside of him as Tony’s hands caressed him, making him arch back into the human, to beg for more without words. Tony’s hands on his hips had him gasping beneath the gag, pulling his stitches a little as he found himself raising his hips to allow Tony to unbuckle his belt. Normally, he would be kicking and screaming at this point, the last two times he had begged, unheeded, for it to stop, but as Tony pulled at his trousers, Loki raised his hips, his cheek pressing against his pillow as Tony pulled his trousers down to his ankles. Loki managed to kick one leg free, but the trousers stayed bundled above the chain on his left leg.

Tony moved to stand beside the bed, meeting Loki’s wide eyes unflinchingly. They were accusing and angry and Tony took another drink from his abandoned bottle of vodka as he tried to think why Loki would be angry.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony promised softly, as realisation dawned. He put down the vodka bottle, and reached to the floor where the bottle of lube had fallen. “I’m not going to leave you like this.” Tony kept his eyes on Loki, trailing across the pale back and the bound arms, to the long bare legs and the ankle that was chained and caught in his trousers, to the remains of a shirt that knotted around Loki’s arms, to the bites Tony had left across the man’s neck. If Tony hadn’t been there himself, if he hadn’t asked for permission and not been refused, he’d have thought someone had forced themself on the god. He looked wholly debauched, flushed and panting, bruised and bound, and when Loki jutted his chin up, muzzle flashing from the light of Tony’s arc reactor, he felt blood rush to his cock again making him feel light headed.

“You are so fucking hot, Loki,” Tony moaned his name, and Loki’s face turned red. The human was on his knees now, shirtless at last, and he pressed his mouth to the muzzle first and then to each of Loki’s eyelids as he unbuckled his own belt and unzipped his pants. He left his trousers in a pile on the floor as he moved to straddle Loki’s thighs again. “So beautiful,” he whispered, kissing across Loki’s shoulder blades again as one slick finger probed at his arse.

Loki wished his mouth was unbound so that he could bite his bottom lip as Tony pressed one finger after another into him. Instead, he settled for pressing his cheek against the pillow, watching Tony from the corner of his eyes, (and incidentally the camera above the door), as the man prepared him. Huffs of breath left him through his nose, and his fingers curled against the curve of his spine as he tried to find something to grab onto. One of Tony’s hands were there, fingers wrapping around as many of Loki’s as he could grab, and the god squeezed them with every caress of Tony’s other hand inside of him. Every time Tony thrust his erection against Loki’s arse, Loki ground down into the mattress wishing he could moan as loudly as Tony was.

“Are you sure?” Tony murmured, his fingers leaving Loki completely. The god whimpered again, low and pained, and he pressed his arse back, hips undulating between the mattress and Tony’s body as he desperately sought more contact. “Well ok then,” Tony said drinking more vodka. If he sobered up before this was over he’d probably realise what a bad idea this had been, and he’d probably walk away before he could finish what he started, and he’d definitely regret that. So, he continued to drink, and later he could regret doing it instead of regret not doing it. It was the lesser of two evils.

He lubed himself up, one hand swiftly pumping his own length slick with lube and his own sweat. As Tony pushed into him, Loki tensed up. Remembered pain danced along his nerves and seared through his brain, and tears fell from his eyes as his body was forced to open itself up to another.

Tony whispered comforting words in his ear, one hand beneath him, pressed over his heart, and the other drawing comforting lines down the column of his throat. Tony told him it was ok, that they could stop if Loki wanted. Tony told him how good it felt, how good Loki felt, but that it was up to Loki if they continued. Tony offered to ride Loki’s cock if the god preferred. Tony promised not to hurt him, all in the low comforting tone the man had used earlier to tell him he wasn’t going to leave, and before that when Tony told Loki to kick him away if he wanted to stop. Loki used the pillow to brush away his tears, and he shook the thoughts of old hurts from his mind. He arched beneath Tony, glancing back over his shoulder to meet warm brown eyes that would haunt him for nights to come, and Loki nodded once.

Tony pulled out of him, until only the head of his cock remained inside. Then he pushed back, in one sure thrust, and Loki screamed. The sound tore its way through Loki’s throat, but was muffled by the stitches, so instead of a normal scream it sounded more like a dog having it tail stepped on. It sounded like a noise of pain, and Tony stilled, waiting until Loki’s body urged him to continue.

The god thrashed beneath him, writhing and wriggling, clenching around his cock, and fingers clawing at the skin of his own back as pleasure surged through him. Tony used him, alternating between long hard thrusts and soft drags of his cock against Loki’s prostate. One hand moved to press against Loki’s stomach, keeping his hips elevated a little, until Loki took the hint and scrambled awkwardly to his knees. His face stayed pressed against the pillow, but Tony kneeled behind him, hands on either hips, rocking into the willing body beneath him. Loki gasped into the pillow beneath his muzzle. He bit through his tongue when Tony’s right hand came to stroke his cock, smooth sure strokes that made the hairs on Loki’s neck stand up, fingers running over the slit of his cock and had his hips snapping forward desperate for more. Loki wanted to beg, to plead for it to never end, for Tony to always desire him in this way, but his mouth wouldn’t move more than a few centimetres apart and trying to talk hurt.

So instead, he writhed and moaned piteously, face down and arse up on the bed for Tony Stark.

Loki came first, taken by surprise as Tony bit deeply into his shoulder and twisted his hand on his cock just so and stabbed against his prostate with enough force to make Loki’s legs give out beneath him. He landed on the bed, lying uncomfortably, with Tony sprawled on top of him, still moving, and he screamed as he came, a real scream one that pulled at his stitches and caused blood to trickled down his chin from beneath the muzzle. Tony ran one finger through the blood, wiping it away before raising it to his mouth to suck on as he rocked twice more, groaning around his own finger as he found his release. His other hand squeezed Loki’s hips hard, and his cheek pressed against Loki’s back, bound arms trapped between them, as he rode through the aftershocks.

There were tears on Loki’s face when Tony pulled out of him, and blood was dripping from his chin. Tony helped Loki sit up; ignoring the way the god’s eyes squeezed shut as pain blossomed in his lower back and down his thighs. They panted in time with one another, until Loki moved to press his silver covered mouth against Tony’s wet one. If he closed his eyes he could pretend they were kissing, and he could let himself imagine that this would happen again, but he didn’t allow himself that luxury. Loki glanced up at the camera instead, cringing as he heard what sounded like a herd of Bilgesnipe making their way down the corridor towards them.

Tony either didn’t hear them, or he was too drunk to care. He pressed a soft kiss against Loki’s forehead, before he whispered, “Is this what you wanted?”

Loki shook his head no. This wasn’t what he had wanted then, despite what he had alluded to after his capture. He had wanted vengeance and retribution and humiliation and hurt, a hundred fold against his enemies no matter what he had to endure to ensure such. But now he wanted this instead, Tony and metal kisses and soft words of comfort as he moved within him and being given a choice about it, being given the option of refusing. But as he always did, Loki had ruined any chance he might have had with his schemes and his tricks.

Loki managed to press the muzzle to Tony’s mouth once more before the door swung open hard enough that it bounced against the wall and left cracks in the concrete. Then Thor was there, grabbing Tony around the throat with one large hand and throwing him hard enough to crack another wall.

This was what Loki had wanted weeks ago. Hurt and vengeance against the one who had hurt him (always hurt him, even unintentionally, even as children) and the one who had watched it happen (the one who had mocked him and his army, who had defeated the magic of his sceptre somehow), humiliation and pity and retribution and hate. But as it happened, Loki turned his face away and cried.

XXX

Fury hadn’t believed a word that Stark had spewed at him. The man had still been drunk as fuck, reeking like he had almost drowned at a brewery or taken a six-hour bath in a fermenting vat, and blinking owlishly at him as if he didn’t understand motherfucking English. Alcohol didn’t make Tony stupid. It made him do dumb things, but the fucker was still smart about it even while drunk. It made him say dumb things, but it didn’t take away his ability to lie like a pro, so when he told Fury yesterday that he didn’t know anything about Loki or why Loki would goad Thor like that Fury could guess it was probably a lie. Tony knew everything about everything before anyone else did, even SHIELD, when it suited Tony to know. And if Loki was bullshitting about Tony, well, Tony was bound to know about that too. It was a gift of Stark’s, to know when someone was talking about him; his ears literally caught fire some days.

Nick Fury didn’t get to where he was by being impatient or reckless. He’d have Loki in custody for another week at the least, since no one seemed to want to (let him) decided what to do with the criminal. A week was plenty of time to throw Tony and Loki together and see if there was anything to the trickster’s words, any reason to watch Tony more closely after the Asgardians were gone. If Tony was like Clint and they hadn’t noticed it, if Tony tried to rescue Loki, well… Fury didn’t want to go there, not until he had to. But he had time, and he could wait and watch and see. But if it was just Tony being Anthony Stark, notorious playboy, (because boning a god? That was probably on the man’s bucket list anyway), then Fury would let it go.

He’d bitch and he’d moan first of course. But genius philanthropist playboy billionaire or otherwise, sluts would be sluts. And Fury could deal with that.

Thor, however, was more gullible. He didn’t believe a word Loki had said to him, though the slurs against Jane and his fellow Avenger had angered him enough to do something foolish and regrettable. Director Fury had said it was understandable, had promised it would be forgiven and forgotten about. SHIELD had given Loki that silver contraption Thor had only seen in passing, to prevent infection from the stitches they had said, and Thor had believed them and thanked them for their kindness. But after watching the Director storm into Stark’s quarters and wake him up in such an ungentlemanly fashion, Thor believed he owed the man a personal apology. It was, after all, Thor’s repetition of Loki’s taunts that had gotten Stark in trouble in the first place.

The problem was that no one but Lady Potts had the clearance to get into Stark’s quarters. She had let Fury in, when the man had rung her demanding to know if Tony had ever fucked men before her and simultaneously demanding the access code. She had been so flustered by the first question that she had told Jarvis to let him in before she could even think about what she was doing.

The Lady Potts would not answer the phone for him. When Thor pressed dial, like Tony had once shown him to do, the phone made a high pitched buzzing sound before a lady would politely tell him that the number he had dialled wasn’t accessible. Thor could not understand why pressing ‘call’ would not call the person he wished to speak to, and neither could Steve when Thor had asked him. Dr Banner was avoiding everyone but Tony, and Natasha and Clint being actual SHIELD agents were already being put to work and were not available to help Thor with his dilemma.

It was a complete coincidence that Thor was hovering outside of Tony’s door when Pepper rang and Jarvis answered. Jarvis came everywhere with Tony, and the Jarvis inside of SHIELD was a shrunken down prototype of one Tony was hoping he could install in his car so it would drive itself and Happy could have a drink and relax for once in his life. It was slightly less competent than the Jarvis Tony had managed to interface with his Iron Man suit, but at least it could still answer the phone.

“Lady Potts?” Thor called from outside the door, “I wish to speak with the Man of Iron! Will you allow me inside?”

“Where’s Tony, Jarvis?” Pepper asked softly, frown quite obvious even without having to see her face displayed on the Stark-phone.

“Sir is otherwise engaged, miss Potts,” Jarvis told her. He was ‘watching’ the live feed on the laptop Tony had fixed; he had been watching since his master had told Loki that his stitches were sexy, half expecting the god to attack him, but relieved that the Asgardian had given in, because once Tony fucked him out of his system he would go back to miss Potts and life would continue in a normal, safe fashion. “I do not think this is the best course of action, miss.”

Jarvis couldn’t turn off the laptop. He could put it into power saver mode, turn the screen black, but if Thor bumped off of it or the table, the screen would come back up and he’d see his brother tied up and moaning beneath Jarvis’ creator. There was no way that would end well.

“Let him talk to Tony, Jarvis, and then make sure he leaves.” The door stayed closed, and Thor called through it again, asking for it to be opened. “Open the door, Jarvis!”

“As you wish, miss.” As the door swung open, Pepper hung up the phone and Jarvis dimmed the screen of the laptop. He stayed silent as Thor made his way through the rooms, all as boring and undecorated as one another, because Tony refused to move any of his possessions in because he was going home as soon as Loki and Thor were gone. Thor’s calls for Tony went unanswered, and just as the man was about to leave and Jarvis would have been releasing a relieved breath if he in fact breathed, Thor noticed the laptop. It had been on the floor yesterday while the Director shouted at Tony, but it had been closed. Jane had kept hers closed as well when she wasn’t using it.

Trying to be nice, Thor moved to close Tony’s laptop, wanting to help his new friend. But when moving the screen, Thor other hand slid across the mouse pad; the small square at the bottom of the keyboard that made the cursor move. The blackness faded, and images came into focus on the screen, as the sounds of Tony’s panting, and Loki’s hampered moans, and skin slapping against skin filled the room.

Thor stumbled away from the laptop, falling heavily into the sofa and gasping from the pain in his chest as Loki turned his face towards the camera with tears on his cheeks. This was, Thor thought not understanding how the laptop or surveillance worked, Loki’s magic at work, trying to call for help, seeking Thor out to come and protect him from his attacker.

He had thought Anthony Stark to be a good man, but Thor had obviously been wrong. This man was not a hero, nor a martyr. This was a man who would take advantage of an injured, bound man, to force himself upon them as they cried for mercy. Thor had been the one to find Loki after Svaðilfari was done with him. The stallion had dropped dead from exhaustion, or so the visiting giant had been told, but really Thor had taken his hammer and driven Svaðilfari’s head into the ground. Loki, trapped as a mare, injured and terrified and exhausted, had looked up at him his eyes as green as ever and if he could cry he would have. It was nine long months of being trapped in that form, and then Loki had given birth to an eight-legged foal. Thor had been the one to bring him home, to the new castle and towers and walls that Loki had tricked the giant into building and Loki’s sacrifice had ensured were built for free.

Thor had been the one to find him the second time, a year later, after someone who Loki still refused to name had attacked him. A joke gone wrong, Loki had insisted, think nothing of it brother, Loki had told him through his tears. The castle had heard about it, wondered about who had dared attacked the Prince. And then when they thought no one of importance was listening they’d joke and laugh about it, how Prince Loki brought it upon himself with his teasing and his taunting and his flirting, and how he lied so often so how could one believe him to mean no when he said no, and how it was to be expected, that if he acted as a women, bearing children, practising magic, men were bound to mistake him for one. The women of Asgard had agreed they owed a certain duty towards their men, the servants knew they were there to serve more than dinner and breakfasts; it was how room service came to exist, after all. Loki would easily be mistaken for a maid, with long black hair, and his rough clothing, because it was more comfortable to practise his spell work in than the usual formal wear royalty was expected to don. He never wore his crown anymore, not since Svaðilfari, so really, the Asgardians had mused, he had brought it upon himself.

But Thor had been the one to find him, the one to comfort him, to shield him from such malicious words. He had never found the one who attacked Loki, so he could never have punished him. But Stark was there; right there and Thor could reach out and punch him.

When punching the screen of the laptop didn’t stop the noises that filtered out through the speakers, Thor launched to his feet. He summoned Mjölnir as he ran through the hallways, making his way hurriedly towards Loki’s cell. Even if he hadn’t arrived to stop Tony before he started, he could still make it in time to separate them before Tony came to completion within his brother. He could spare Loki that much humiliation at least. He had been lucky not to have conceived after his second attack, Thor knew now, because Jötun males were as capable of reproducing as their women were, but he might not be so lucky this time. But if Thor could get there in time, none of that would matter, and he would make the Man of Iron very sorry he had assaulted a son of Odin.

“You will allow me entrance!” Thor roared at one of the guards.

They had stood around the door, smirking or laughing, probably believing that Loki had brought this degradation upon himself as those in Asgard had once thought. They had jumped away from the door guiltily as Thor started shouting at them.

Inside the room it was almost quiet now, there were no more moans or pants, and the sound of skin against skin had been replaced by Tony’s voice murmuring softly. The bed had stopped creaking, and Loki lay panting with his muzzled mouth pressed against Tony’s smiling lips. Tony was wiping the blood off of Loki’s chin again when the door slammed open, cracking the concrete behind it. Thor stood framed in the doorway, red faced with anger and muscles trembling from the desire, the need, he felt to hurt the naked human whose hands remained upon his brother’s skin. Loki was smiling sadly, his eyes still on Tony’s face, but Thor did not notice that. Thor noticed the blood on his brother’s chin and the sweat on his skin, and the smell of sex in the air, and the way Loki winced every time he shifted on the bed. Thor noticed how his left leg was still chained and his arms were bound behind his back and his clothes were torn, he noticed the bite on his shoulder and the bites on Loki’s neck, and the muzzle over his mouth that kept him from screaming for help.

“Oh shit,” Tony thought. Even through the haze of alcohol and endorphins, he realised that Thor seeing him and Loki like this was a very bad, super bad, idea. Loki was smiling sadly at him, green eyes still wet and there were tears on his cheeks when he turned first to Thor and then to stare above the doorway at the camera Tony had installed the first week when he had thought Loki was sleeping.

Is this what you wanted, Tony remembered asking a few moments ago, to which Loki replied ‘no’.

I know you are watching me! Help me! Loki had screamed the day before, though he shouldn’t have known unless he had been awake when Tony installed the surveillance system.

He remembered the comments Loki had made to Thor, about Tony salivating over him without much effort on Loki’s part to make it so, remembered Fury questioning him about it, while Thor tried to apologize for even mentioning it and Tony brushed him off. Thor must have come to apologize again, but why would Jarvis have let him into the room? Had he left the laptop on? Of course he had, he was drunk, and when he was drunk he liked to record his sex marathons in case he forgot anything about them in the morning, so of course he had left his laptop on.

Tony remembered thinking to himself how it might have looked to anyone who hadn’t been there, Loki tied up with his shirt torn and tears and blood on his face. He looked over at Thor, who looked like a volcano about to erupt with anger instead of lava, and he swallowed heavily. Tony glanced at Loki, but the god wouldn’t meet his eyes. He went to touch him, his hand shaking slightly, not as sure as they had been before as they stroked Loki’s cock or fingered his arse. But as Tony moved his hand, Thor was there, his own large hands around Tony’s narrow throat; squeezing; punishing.

What he wanted and what Loki had obviously wanted were two completely different things, Tony realised just as Thor picked him up and threw him at the wall.

Tony hit it hard enough to crack the concrete, and stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. Every breath he took felt like razorblades in his throat, and there was a strange heaviness in his head. He knew he had broken something vital, but hopefully the SHIELD doctors were as good as their paycheques said they were.

Tony should have known that things were never as easy as they appeared to be. It had been too simple, too easy, Tony thought before he slipped into unconsciousness, Loki crying the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut. Loki was too much of a puzzle to have been figured out that fast, even for a genius like him, and Tony had learnt that the hard way.

XXX

* * *

Thank you for reading. My internet has been gone for a week (and I’ve missed Facebook and Tumblr and Twitter, but at least I was writing ~~instead of studying: priorities!~~) but if anyone added my new Facebook account, I’ll friend you when my Internet is fixed. It’s [www (dot) facebook (dot) com /aisling (dot) siobhan (dot)3 (question mark) sk (equals) wall] if anyone wants to add me!
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