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The Chitauri's Revenge	By : SaChanPwns Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 7806 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, nor do I make money off of this story.

Chapter List
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The Chitauri’s Revenge
Chapter 13
            Thor had held Loki as silent tears slipped into the warm water. He held him until the water cooled, and then stood, still cradling him. It reminded Thor of their childhood. Whenever Loki had gotten into trouble, or worse, injured himself, Thor had always carried him until his sniffles were gone and the injury was no longer painful. He had been much younger, though, before he became so withdrawn and spiteful. It was still a mystery to Thor why Loki began to hate him. His words, always dripping with malice, had cut Thor so deeply that the scars did an impressive job at keeping new swipes of Loki’s silver tongue at bay.
            Now, however, Thor wished his brother would say something, anything. In the pit of his stomach, he knew Loki would only curl in on himself more if he brought him back to his cell. Unfortunately, Odin’s words were final, no matter how much it made Thor ache. He simply wanted to bring Loki to his bed, tuck him against his chest, and talk quietly for hours. Even if Loki slept, Thor would stay awake to keep whatever monsters Loki’s mind created away. He would slaughter them all, if only he could.
            Before bringing Loki to his cell, Thor needed to find clothing for him. He was not going to allow his brother to be laughed or gawked at. The walk to Loki’s room was quiet, save for the few short breaths that slipped by his lips. It was a sign that he was still struggling, even in his arms, and Thor hated it. He shouldered Loki’s door open and stepped in. It was exactly how Loki had left it, down to the open book he had left before his fall. Thor’s gaze swept the room, looking but not looking, unfocused. His brother was finally back where he belonged, but it was so wrong, so unbelievably, horribly wrong.
            Unbeknownst to Thor, Loki’s mind was racing. He had been bathed properly, toweled off, and then brought to his own bedroom. His thoughts were torn in two; did Thor want to have him on his own bed or was he actually bringing him to sleep? Panic ate away at the edges of his vision. His stomach coiled like a snake, never-ending and in constant motion. Fear convinced him that even if he wanted to speak, his opinion did not matter. If Thor wanted to defile him, take him and own him, it was not Loki’s decision. It was not his choice.
            Thor’s compassion confused more than helped. It led Loki to believe that he wanted something from him. No one did anything for nothing, and no matter how golden his brother seemed to be, he was no different from the Chitauri. Thinking about the Chitauri, about Yfulen was agonizing. Loki understood, somewhere in the dark recesses of his logical mind, that what he felt for Yfulen was not love. It was not affection. It was trust given to him out of the desperation for his situation. Yet, the logical part of his mind had been, and still was, trampled by the emotional and broken mind set. If Loki could claw his way through and find a way out of his twisted and ruined mind, he would.
            But he couldn’t.
            Thor brought Loki over to his bed and reluctantly set him down. When he tried to stand, Loki latched onto his shirt. Loki had always been thin with long limbs, but his thin, bony fingers reminded Thor of a child’s. It did not help that Loki had whimpered. He sounded lost and frightened. How could Thor simply abandon him in his cell? Did Odin truly believe he could go through with it? Perhaps he was watching to ensure that Loki was planted back where he would not ‘cause trouble’? Thor bit back a sigh and ran his fingers through Loki’s hair. The intimate gesture was familiar to him, as was the softness beneath his fingers.
            It was startling to see Loki turn his head and catch his index finger with his lips. Thor was so bewildered that it took him a moment to realize what Loki was doing. His finger became hot against Loki’s tongue and he sucked on him. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, making Thor twitch as he grappled with what was happening. Loki was licking him now, his breath stuttering and warm against his hand as he opened his mouth more to take in his middle finger. It was almost mesmerizing just to see Loki so placated, but it quickly turned to disgust and pity. He was doing this out of fear and Thor knew it. He knew it, but he allowed Loki to suck on his fingers, anyway.
            It became a morbid curiosity. Thor watched as Loki’s expression changed from one of fear to compliance. In the simple act of sucking on his fingers, he relaxed. It was as if Loki needed a purpose, an order, something to busy himself with so his mind did not wander into darker depths of thought. It pained Thor to see him so unbelievably docile. He had been anything but docile—strong and malicious, fierce with his tongue. Now, instead of cruel or sly words, he used his mouth to pleasure Thor.
            ‘Give him pleasure, and maybe he won’t hurt me. Give him pleasure, and maybe he won’t hurt me. Pleasure, no pain. Just pleasure.’ Loki’s thoughts were rampant. His brother tasted exactly like he had assumed: similar to the sun, bright and golden and good. Could that even be considered a taste? Would his, in turn, be dark, sour, and disgusting? Why had the Other taken so much pleasure in his body? It did not make sense, not when Thor tasted so divine. It was such a difference from the Other; it had tasted of rot and death, and no matter how many times Loki had taken it into his mouth, he always gagged and threw up afterward.
            When Thor pulled his fingers from Loki’s mouth, he felt awful. His body was warm, his arousal stirring in his gut at the sight of his brother mouthing his fingers. It had been pleasurable and that was wrong. He used his dry fingers to brush Loki’s cheek, and when his eyes opened, Thor froze. There was lust and yearning in his eyes, a substantial difference from the dull expression he had worn earlier. Even so, Thor had to convince himself that this was not what Loki wanted. This is what he had done to survive with the Chitauri. This is what he had been tortured down to: a being that only sought to give pleasure in order to avoid pain. This was not the brother he knew.
            “Loki…” Thor hooked his fingers underneath Loki’s chin and tipped his face up. “You do not have to do such things for me. It is not necessary.”
            Although Thor’s words were meant to comfort Loki, they only frightened him. Whenever the Other had rejected pleasure or physical touch, it meant that pain was soon to follow. He remembered being strung up by thin wire for days. A pool of blood had gathered below him from the whipping. He had lost feeling in his hands and had begged by the fourth day to just kill him, to end the torture, to stop his suffering. He had pleaded on deaf ears, and the Other used him for several days after that. It had commented on how tight he had been with his body in that agonizing position and how it would have to keep him there.
            No, Loki could not handle that again. He would sooner peel off his own nails than be strung up by wire. Instead of listening to Thor’s words, he reached forward and fumbled with the strings of his pants. One tug loosened them and the bulge made it obvious that Thor wanted him. He wanted him and he enjoyed what he did to his fingers. He could do the same to his cock, and then maybe he would not be punished. Why else would Thor sit him on a bed? Why else was he only draped in a towel? Unless he was going to be used, he did not belong in a bed.
            Thor caught Loki’s wrists immediately. His grip was firm, bordering painful, and Loki whimpered in frustration. If only he would let him, he would feel okay for a while. Not safe. Never safe, but at least okay. The urge to fight Thor, to insist that he give him pleasure waged war with his automatic response to be obedient. Tears of defeat burned his eyes and he tugged pitifully at Thor’s hold on his wrists.
            “Just let me, let me…”
            “No, Loki, this is not you. Do not do this to yourself. I do not want, want this,” Thor gestured at Loki’s hands and his unfastened pants. “Please, brother, come back to me.” His voice cracked in the middle of his sentence, but he knew that just words would not bring his cool, sly brother back.
            “You will punish me.” Loki’s breathing faltered in his lungs.
            “Punish…? Loki, why would I punish you?”
            “You do not want pleasure. Please, please just let me.” Loki strained in Thor’s hold, but as he struggled, his grip tightened. It was painful, but all he could think about was giving pleasure. He had to. “I have to. Please.” The tears from earlier finally spilled down his cheeks, and Thor’s heart clenched.
            “No, brother, you do not have to do anything.” How could he bring Loki back to his cell? Knowing the Chitauri, that was exactly what they kept him in. It would only encourage Loki’s delusions and obedience by putting him in a cage. Instead of letting Loki’s wrists go, Thor brought his fingers up to cup Loki’s. He brought his hands to his lips and pressed a kiss over his knuckles. “You are safe, brother. You are safe.”
            “There is no such thing as safe.” Loki’s voice wavered as he watched Thor press gentle kisses to his hands. Gentleness only led to pain. The Other had made sure to warp Loki’s mind so that nothing was comfortable. Everything, no matter how sweet, would result in pain. Nothing could convince him otherwise. “Please, please just tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”
            Thor was beginning to believe that his attempts to soothe Loki’s damaged nerves were only encouraging distrust. “Stand up,” he murmured, and when Loki stood so obediently without protest, he wanted to retch. The brother he knew would have looked at him with disinterest and promptly ignored him. “Now, pull the covers back and climb into bed.”
            Loki was receiving orders and he was happy. He was doing something to please Thor. It may not be physical, not yet, but having orders was having direction—something he needed to function properly. He pulled back the comforters and slid into the bed. It was soft, silky, just as he remembered his own bed being. Yet, it was uncomfortable. He had grown accustomed to the cold floor at the Other’s bed, but if it would please Thor, he would certainly stay on the mattress.
            Thor stepped close to the bed. Odin could punish him however he wished, but he was not taking Loki back to the cell. He would not be the one his brother thought about when being caged. Anger bubbled through his veins, but Thor let it pass. That emotion would get him nowhere, especially with Loki. Instead, he pulled the covers over Loki’s body and pressed a kiss to his forehead. When he stepped back, Loki latched onto his shirt again.
            “Where…?” The sudden fear and breathiness of Loki’s voice made Thor cringe. He sounded so utterly terrified.
            “I will join you. Do not fret, brother.” Loki visibly relaxed and Thor swore under his breath. If he managed to get his hands on the Other, and he would, it would not have the pleasure of seeing another day. With that thought cemented in place, Thor pulled back the covers on the opposite side of the bed. He climbed beneath them, and when he was comfortably settled on his side, he tucked Loki’s back to his chest.
            Loki did not mind Thor’s cuddling. Despite believing that safety was a delusion, he felt decent tucked into Thor’s chest. The warmth and familiar scent helped him concentrate on being in Asgard. He was not with the Chitauri or the Other. He was as safe as he could possibly be, enveloped by Thor’s warmth and strength. The need to please him was strong, but the warm embrace of sleep was stronger. Once he closed his eyes, darkness welcomed him.
……………….
            Loki was being touched. The filth left behind by the Other’s hands felt oily and so, so unclean. He twisted in dismay, but could not dislodge the creature. It had tightened cuffs around his ankles, spread his legs, and chained them securely to the ceiling. It kept his legs spread and his hips lifted. It was a perfect position for taking advantage of his body, and Loki wept as his muscles strained against the biting steel.
            “You are no better than a common whore,” the Other hissed. It slid its finger over Loki’s abused hole, over the wetness of its own semen. “Only a whore gets wet like this.” Loki wanted to scream. He did not enjoy it. He did not like it. It was a lie, but the muffling device on his mouth kept him from objecting. The Other had found amusement in how it bit into his lips and tongue and had forced him to wear the contraption for a few days—or had it been a week? Loki was not sure.
            “This is all you are good for, Loki Laufeyson. You are no king, no prince, no potential. You are simply a whore, open to be filled until you burst.” Loki had heard this more times than he can count. It was beginning to seep into his skin, his being, and his mind. It wormed its way inside of him and nested there. “I will remove your mouth piece, but you have to say those words.” The Other must get off on his crumbling psyche. It must enjoy this torture, so animalistic in nature, but Loki could not deny it any longer. He nodded jerkily. He was simply desperate to take in a full breath through his mouth after so long of struggling to breathe through his nose. He would admit anything the Other wanted him to, anything, just to let his mouth free.
            When the contraption was ripped from his mouth, Loki cried out. It was always violent with the Other. The piece could be removed with little to no discomfort, but that was not its goal. No, it wanted Loki to hurt, and the resulting blood that pooled over his lips and across his jaw was invigorating to it. Wanting nothing more than to hear Loki’s broken words, the Other leaned forward and slid its tongue over the blood on his face. “Well, Laufeyson?”
            “I—“
            “You are what?”
            “I am your—your—“
            “Say it, Laufeyson!”
…
            Loki was screaming. His whole body contracted on the bed, viciously curling only to unwind and straighten like a taut bow. His scream woke Thor, who immediately rolled over to attack whoever was targeting his brother. However, when his bleary eyes did not see anything, he looked down. Loki was twisted, his expression contorted in pain and defeat. He was wailing muddled “no’s” and “please.” He was having a nightmare.
            “Loki, Loki…” Thor stroked his face, moving from his gaunt cheek to his forehead. He pressed his palm over Loki’s scalp and rubbed his thumb over his temple. “Loki, brother, please, you are dreaming. Wake up.”
            When Loki’s eyes shot open, they were unfocused so much so that he could not tell it was Thor on top of him. His heart was beating so frantically that it hurt and his breathing was ragged. He reached out to grab a fistful of Thor’s hair and yanked him forward. The tight pull on his scalp made Thor flinch, but he had a much bigger problem to deal with; Loki’s lips were, once again, crushed against his own, seeking purchase in something so physical.
            Thor managed to detangle Loki’s hand from his hair while his brother assaulted his lips with tongue and teeth. He breathed out sharply, shame building inside of him because he was feeling aroused. He shook his head and finally detached himself from his brother’s lips.
            “I—I am your whore, please, please just take me.” Loki was mumbling, his eyes still distant, as if he was experiencing his nightmare while awake. Thor reared back, surprised by the sudden confession from his brother. A whore? Loki was anything but a whore. He had always kept his private life extremely private, so much so that Thor had questioned if he had actually taken anyone to bed.
            “Loki, you are no harlot. Loki, look at me.” Thor finally hardened his voice. He grabbed Loki’s cheeks and tilted his head up to look into his eyes. “You are with me, Thor, you are not there. He is not here to… to take you. He is not here.”
            “He is not…” Loki sounded doubtful, but Thor felt that he was finally getting somewhere with him.
            “No, Loki, no… he is not here. You are safe. He cannot get you. I am here.” Thor kept one hand on Loki’s cheek while his other arm anchored around his middle. He held him while keeping eye contact, convinced that that may be the only thing keeping Loki from going back into his nightmare. “Look at me, Loki.”
            When Loki’s eyes started to slide from his, he shook him gently and patted his cheek to get his attention. “Loki, listen to me. Listen, he is not here.”
            “He is not here.”
            “Right, brother, he is not here. You are safe with me. Sleep, and I will watch out for you.”
            Loki began to drift back to sleep, cradled in Thor’s arms, but despite his brother’s encouraging words, he began to convulse again. His back arched as fear made him hyperventilate. He was being touched again, the Other was coming after him, he was going to touch him and he was going to be dirty again. Pain would follow and he would have to beg for mercy, only to find that there wasn’t any. Loki twisted in Thor’s hold, another desperate sound escaping him.
            “Loki, brother…” Thor was exhausted, but he could not allow this to continue. He gently batted Loki’s cheek again, pulling him from his temporary delusion, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You must stay awake for as long as you can. I will retrieve mother for help.” Thor hesitated, though, at the terrified expression that twisted Loki’s normally smooth features. “I will be back before you can fall asleep again, brother. I will be back. I promise.” Thor squeezed Loki’s hand and then eased him against the head board. Perhaps sitting up would prevent him from drifting into his nightmare again.
            “Repeat after me, Loki. He is not here.”
            “He isn’t…”
            “Right, he is not here. He will not get you.”
            “He is not here, he will not get me.”
            “Yes, that is correct. You are safe. Now, try to stay awake. I will be back with mother in a moment.” She could help Loki sleep with tea or a spell. All Thor knew was that Loki needed rest—and not the kind that he got as a captive. “Just remember: he cannot get you.”
            Loki watched Thor’s retreating back and began to panic. Being left alone was not something he could handle, even if Thor did promise that he was safe. He tried to distract himself by looking around the room, his room, but it only made him feel worse. He could be ripped from his bed with little effort. The Other could get him; the Other could do anything. He shuddered in revulsion and yanked the blankets from his body. Unable to handle where he was, Loki stumbled to his closet and tugged on one of his simpler green robes. He had to leave. He had to go somewhere.
            Yfulen. He had lied to Loki, but Yfulen was here. He could go to him and be safe again, or as safe as he could possibly be. Barefoot, Loki slipped out of the room and made his way to the floor where the cells were kept. He faltered at times; the darkness around the corners and hallways frightened him. The Other could be there, and he was terrified of being captured again. Finally, finally he reached the cells and pushed open the large door that led into the hall.
            By the time Loki stepped inside, his rapid breathing had made him dizzy. He had scared himself with the possibilities that lurked around each bend, so to be in the well-lit cell area was a relief. He glanced around at the first few cells, and when he did not find Yfulen, he continued down the hall. It was not until he rounded another corner that he heard Odin’s voice.
            “You are of no use to us, and as a traitor, will be no use to him. This is where I suggest you make your final thoughts before you are given proper justice.”
            “Justice from a man who stole a babe and planned on using him as a bargaining chip? Please, you have yet to experience true justice.” Yfulen scowled. “You are making a mistake, Odin.”
            “I have made mistakes in the past, but not with creatures like you.”
            Loki rounded the corner in time to see Odin slip his blade from his side. He pushed down his immediate panic and jolted forward, throwing himself into the cell and in front of Yfulen. Odin, surprised that Loki was even remotely out of his cell, stared at his wayward son.
            “Don’t!” Loki flinched at the look Odin gave him and shook his head. “Don’t, please, Yfulen. He is the only one—“
            “He enslaved you!”
            “He helped me!”
            “Manipulated, Loki. He manipulated you to believe that you belonged to him—“
            “How is that any different than what you have done to me!?” Loki spat. It must have looked ridiculous. He may be tall, but he was unbearably thin, and the Chitauri behind him was muscular and imposing. “How…how can you…” The exertion of energy had caught up to Loki, and after so long of be immobile and chained to the floor, he was a shaking wraith of himself.
            Yfulen immediately tucked an arm around Loki’s waist and eased both of them to the ground. He sent Odin a sour look before pushing Loki’s wild hair from his face. He was sweaty and pale. Yfulen hated what he had become under the Other’s “care.” From what he understood, Loki had not been fed but mere morsels to keep him alive. He had not stretched or walked the entire time he had been in its room. The muscle depletion was a testament to the harsh treatment, and Yfulen grimaced as he stroked more strands behind Loki’s ears.
            It hurt Yfulen more when Loki wrapped his arms around his neck. He had betrayed Loki’s trust, used him, and then for all he knew, threw him to the wolves. Yet, Loki still clutched him, and Yfulen felt that it was desperation to feel as if the world wasn’t crashing down around him. He closed his eyes and held the frail body close to his chest.
            “Loki, my little prince,” Yfulen cooed, “You need food and rest, and you will not get that arguing with him.”
            Odin grit his teeth. He was more than ready to simply lop the creature’s head off. Fortunately for Yfulen, he still held compassion in his heart for his son, and held off his execution. It was at that time that Thor stormed in, hammer ready for battle, cape whipping about with the wind that naturally followed the angry god.
            “What have you done to him!?” Thor demanded, his piercing gaze dropping from the Chitauri to Loki, who was limp in its arms.
            “I did nothing,” Yfulen scowled, “He came at an inopportune time. Odin and I were discussing the situation.”
            “I will have your head—“
            “Thor, contain your rage.” Odin snapped, “Loki ran in and then collapsed. If you had done as I said, he would be unable to leave his cell. It would have prevented this mess.”
            “Father! Loki cannot be caged like some animal! He has paid his dues, he has suffered enough. Is it not obvious?” Thor had not made it a habit to argue with his father, but he could not agree with him over this. Loki needed to be treated as family. How else would they pull his mind from the darkness that clung so tightly to it?
            “How do you know it is not a ruse?” Odin attempted to stay composed, his eye flickering from his stormy child to the limp one.
            “Loki is having night—“
            As if on cue, Loki let out a shriek. He jolted in Yfulen’s arms, which immediately tightened. He still twisted and attempted to break the hold, but Yfulen was not having any of it.
            “Loki, Loki, my little prince,” Yfulen had not even noticed Loki had fallen asleep. He had done it so randomly that the cry startled him, and he was not easily jostled. “You are not with him. Come now, open your eyes.”
            Loki obeyed, but only because Yfulen was so familiar, so good at giving orders and protecting him. He forced himself to sit up because it had helped him earlier. The Other was not there. In fact, the three people who were there were the best people to keep him away. Except Yfulen—he had, he had given him to the Other. He had handed him over knowing the pain and deprivation he would experience.
            When Loki pushed his hands against Yfulen’s chest, he willingly released his hold. He watched as Loki fumbled to the ground and took in long gulps of air. He had been dreaming about the collar the Other had placed on him. Sometimes he had been strangled to the point of passing out, but just as he crest over, the Other would give him more room to breathe and the torture would resume. This was all while fucking him. It would praise him, tell him that as it tightened the collar and nearly choked him to death, his muscles would seize and clench him so deliciously. If Loki did manage to pass out before the Other brought him back, he would finish, uncaring that the body he was rutting on was comatose.
            The thought of having the collar forced Loki’s hands to his throat. He clawed for a moment, searching for the restrictive leather, but found nothing. When he reassured himself that he was okay, his body slumped against the cell floor. His harsh breaths did not stop, though, forcing his body to tremble with the force of them. Sight did not matter at that point. Loki was conscious and nothing was hurting him, so he simply gazed at the cell wall while recuperating.
            “Do you truly believe he belongs in a cell?” Thor’s voice was rough, packed with too many emotions to list. He stepped around Odin to kneel next to Loki. He had caused so much anxiety within himself that, while heaving, he had let spittle escape down his chin and lips. Loki had deteriorated so much that Thor couldn’t help glowering at Yfulen. “Look at what you have done.” He hissed, “Look at what you claim you had nothing to do with. You are no better than the ones who tortured him.”
            Yfulen pursed his lips, but said nothing. He understood that he had great influence on how Loki behaved now. He had beaten him down and then built him back up. He had forced Loki to trust him, even love him. Yfulen would not admit to Odin or Thor that he missed the seething, spit-fire god he had come into contact with in the very beginning. He had loved his fight and his sharp words. His sheer will power had been enough to please Yfulen. Yet, the mess on the floor had been the plan all along. The Other had been explicit with what it wanted from Loki, and it had succeeded tenfold. Like this, Loki could not say no.
            “Loki, I am going to help you turn over so I can carry you.” Thor murmured. He remembered back to their bath, and how appreciative Loki seemed when Thor let him know exactly what he was going to do. He eased Loki onto his back and brushed away a few strands of hair. It was odd seeing him so wild. The brother he knew was always immaculate and precise. Thor frowned and slipped one arm beneath Loki’s knees. The other moved behind his back, and with one easy step, Thor lifted him from the ground.
            “We are going to my chambers,” Thor told Odin stiffly. It was not okay to challenge the king, but he could not budge on this. It was not fair to Loki. When Odin said nothing, he nodded and walked out of the cell. Frigga, as perceptive as ever, waited outside the main door to the cells. When it opened, her gaze flickered to Loki and then crumbled. It did not matter what her son technically was or was not. He was her son and she loved him.
            The two walked in silence to Thor’s room. Frigga opened the door and then closed it behind them. After Thor settled Loki onto the bed, he smiled slightly at the expected response. Loki immediately latched onto him, his fingers twisted in his shirt, determined to keep him close. Thor pressed a kiss to Loki’s forehead and rubbed the tops of his hands with his thumbs.
            “I am here, Loki. I am here.” Thor pressed another kiss to his scalp. He eased Loki back onto the bed, but stayed close enough that he could still clutch to his shirt. “Mother.” He murmured, his intense blue eyes flickering back to the woman who stood by the edge of the bed.
            “This will help him sleep.” Frigga nodded and stepped forward. She ran her fingers through Loki’s hair and murmured gentle words to him. They were laced with love and concern, enveloping his mind like a cradle would a baby.
            The last person Loki remembered seeing before sleep finally took him was Thor, his skin sun-kissed and his lips quirked into a smile.
……
A/N: I've totally been trapped in a hospital bed all of February, which is the reason behind the lateness of this chapter. Much love, guys!
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The Chitauri's Revenge