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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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Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, nor do I make money off of this story.

Warning: Non-consensual, blood play, humiliation
The Chitauri's Revenge
Chapter 2
          The scream that pierced the darkness was not his own, but Loki knew that it was the Chitauri’s way to put him on edge. Whatever screamed was in agony, experiencing complete and utter torture. From what, Loki did not want to know. Unfortunately, he knew he would find out. Just the pitch of that wail for help made his gut turn, but it was not the first scream he had heard. It had to have been two or three days since he had arrived, but judging was difficult since all he could see was perpetual darkness.
            A part of Loki was grateful that none of the Chitauri had brought him food or water. The tool on his face would prevent him from eating, but even if he could, Loki did not think he could handle the screams for this long without throwing up. He itched under his skin, sweat beaded down his face, and his breath sometimes became harsh through his nose. Loki had held out well, staying stoic against any of the Chitauri that came by and threatened him, breathed on him, laughed at the way he was shackled. He did not find those imbeciles concerning. No, he found the silent ones more disconcerting—one in particular.
            The one Loki was weary of came by frequently—perhaps once every couple of hours. It was not that he was silent, no, but the Chitauri came close enough that Loki’s eyes could adjust to his outline. Then, the Chitauri would sit out of arms reach, just within Loki’s eyesight, and grin at him. It was the most bizarre form of torture Loki had experienced, but it was definitely the most effective. He dreaded when the silent one came around. It seemed like each time he came, he got closer, and Loki could do nothing but stare from his chained down position.
            It seemed it was that time again. Loki felt a presence—his presence. He resisted locking up his muscles in response, but he did look around. It did not make sense to him why they kept him in the dark. It did prevent him from knowing whether it was night or day, or how many days passed, but that was it. Perhaps it was to make the Chitauri seem intimidating. It worked, although Loki did not dare show it. Any weakness that he showed would directly influence any Chitauri that happened to be walking by. Loki was not a victim, nor was he a prisoner. He was merely waiting for something, anything, to go his way.
            Loki’s thoughts halted when he sensed another presence close to him. Then his vision caught the Chitauri’s outline. The Chitauri moved forward, once again just out of arms reach. Loki merely tipped his head up to rest his skull against the wall. He watched the outline evenly, showing nothing but boredom. The shine of the Chitauri’s teeth as it grinned was unmistakable. The weariness set into Loki’s gut again, and he did his best to stay relaxed. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay calm as the Chitauri took two steps forward. He was in arms reach. Loki could grab him, but he would not make a fool’s mistake, even if he wanted the upper hand.
            Minutes went by. The grin the Chitauri sported never faded, and Loki had a feeling that this was different than any of the other times this particular Chitauri visited him. He hoped his chest did not show his trembling breath, and he hoped the Chitauri could not see his hands forming into tight fists. Loki’s composure was failing, and he knew he was going to snap. The itching beneath his skin roared into a burning fire, and Loki could not stand it any longer.
            Just as Loki began to move, the Chitauri stepped back twice. His eyes snapped up to the Chitauri’s figure, his breath harsh in his throat. He had not realized his hands had moved into a defensive position near his gut—as high as they could go. It was humiliating, and Loki felt the heat from that awful emotion creep into his cheeks. The distraction gave the Chitauri just enough time to step forward without Loki noticing. When he did, it was too late.
            The Chitauri had him by the hair. His thick, blunt fingers dug against the top of Loki’s scalp. The pain stung, but Loki did not respond. He simply tilted his face to glare at the Chitauri. The thing was smart—he had stepped on the chain linking Loki’s wrists, successfully immobilizing his arms by pinning them to the ground. If Loki could speak, the ugly bastard would have been dead where he stood. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The Chitauri bent down just as he wrenched Loki’s hair backward.
          The pain made Loki’s eyes water, but he refused to let any of the liquid drip down his cheeks. His face was angled up just enough to see the outline of the Chitauri’s jaw, but not his face. Another twist of his hair made Loki close his eyes. He hissed and cursed, but it was muffled, and his fear lit into rage as he felt a few tears slip down the sides of his face. He had been thrown around by the Hulk, brutalized, and he had not shed a tear. Now his hair was being pulled, like some common whore, and tears were already assaulting his cheeks. Loki’s mind scrambled for a reason for this weakness—the pitch black room, the constant battering, the audible torture just down the way. He was not sure which, but something had set him off without his knowledge.
         The rage doubled as the Chitauri pulled Loki’s head to the side and slid his tongue over the wetness that streaked his cheek. Loki growled behind his mouth piece, his fear temporarily forgotten. Despite the burning sensation, he jerked his head to the side. Pain burst across his scalp, coloring his vision, and at the same time he made an attempt to yank his arms backward. The effort to free himself from the Chitauri failed.
            When the Chitauri drew back from him, Loki was seething. Despite his submissive position, Loki was anything but a prisoner. He had no fear, no distress—only fury. The need to rip the Chitauri apart burned through his veins and lit up his eyes. Loki heard the Chitauri chuckle, but the angle of his head prevented him from seeing what he could of the disgusting creature. He snarled behind the mask and pulled at his arms. The Chitauri was still stepping on the chain, but Loki was determined to throw him off balance. He yanked his wrists again, ignoring the bite of the cuffs on his skin. He felt parts of his wrist split open, the warmth of his blood slipping over the metal of the shackles. Loki refused to recognize the pain.
            The yanking did not throw the Chitauri off balance, like Loki had hoped. His effort to get the upper hand only seemed to amuse the Chitauri. Enraged, Loki moved to pull at the chain again, harder than before, and could not help the startled response when the weight holding his arms down disappeared. The Chitauri stepped off of the chain links, sending Loki spiraling backwards against the wall. The back of his skull smacked the wall hard enough to make his vision sparkle. Everything spun, and the only thing Loki could do was breathe choppily through his nose. The urge to vomit boiled into his gut and crawled up his throat, causing his eyes to water.
            The Chitauri took the advantage immediately. Loki was still disoriented, unable to recognize the shuffling of movement. The Chitauri kneeled in front of Loki, its knee planting itself in between Loki’s thighs. The blunt, thick fingers found Loki’s jaw and tilted it to the side. The movement made Loki grimace, but he was still gathering his wits, so he did nothing to retaliate. The lack of food did not help his current predicament. Normally, Loki could bounce back from his head getting smacked, but he was still struggling to push the nausea down.
            The scent of blood was too tempting for the Chitauri. It kept Loki’s jaw in its hold while its other hand snatched Loki’s forearm. There was enough blood that the liquid had reached the tips of Loki’s fingers. The contrast between Loki’s ghostly pale skin and the deep red made the Chitauri shudder. It shifted its entire body to press its knee against Loki’s groin and stomach, simply to keep him pinned. Loki grunted, but the Chitauri ignored it as it parted its lips and slid its tongue over Loki’s forefinger. The blood tasted dark, spicy, and dangerously addictive.
            Loki finally overcame the dizziness, his brain beginning to register what was happening to him. He felt the hot slickness of the Chitauri’s tongue moving from his forefinger to his palm. He shuddered, unable to move himself away. It was disgusting, but Loki knew that for now he was at the Chitauri’s mercy. He forced his rapid breathing to slow and attempted to relax his muscles. They refused, pulsating beneath his skin, aching with the need to get away from the Chitauri. Loki knew that would be impossible, so instead, he closed his eyes and tried to think about anything, even Asgard. That was where he was supposed to be, judged by Odin, defended by Thor because he was a sap to the core. Not here—not being tasted and pinned by what he meant to rule.
            The lack of struggle piqued the Chitauri’s curiosity. Loki, although tense, was doing his best not to react. It was amusing to the Chitauri. It made it want to break him, to push him to the edge, to relish in the moment where Loki would cry out for someone, anyone, to save him. The rush of adrenaline made the Chitauri groan, and it knew it caught Loki’s attention. It slid its tongue to the opening in Loki’s wrist, paused, and sank its sharp teeth around the wound. At the same time, it sucked, encouraging the spicy wine to flow into his mouth. Loki jerked, and his body went into a spasm, his back arching from the wall, forcing his stomach and groin harder into the Chitauri’s leg. There was a muffled noise behind the mask, perhaps a moan of pain, and the Chitauri knew that this was what it wanted. It would break Loki, bit by bit, and revel in the way he writhed and screamed.
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The Chitauri's Revenge