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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
- 5
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- 7
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, nor do I make money off of this story.

The Chitauri’s Revenge
Chapter 6
            Two days passed, and Loki still felt sick to his stomach. After seeing the cuts, blood, and semen littering his body, he had little appetite. He felt as if he was teetering on the edge of sanity, struggling to keep himself grounded to what was real. Whenever he thought about Thor, fear gripped him. Oh, Loki wanted to be saved. He wanted out, but it was the idea of Thor seeing him like this that sent him into panic mode. Loki was a god, he was not meant to be seen in such a disgusting state.
            Yet, a part of Loki felt that he deserved what was happening to him. His actions toward Thor had not been out of hate. He had not wanted to truly hurt Thor. No, he was just obscenely jealous. Thor, in all his immature, thoughtless actions, which only provoked violence, was to be king. That had been mind boggling for Loki. How could Odin allow Thor to take the throne? Loki had buried himself in books, studied the ways of Asgardians, and had tried to be the perfect child for Odin. His attempt to rule Midgard and rid of Thor was only to prove that he could be a successful ruler.
            That obviously went well.
            “What are you thinking about, my little prince?”
            Loki’s skin crawled as he fought the urge to jerk. He had lost himself in thought again, and it allowed the Chitauri to walk up without alarming his senses. It was dark; something that he had, regrettably, begged for, but light should not have mattered. He should have simply felt the Chitauri’s presence. His nerves were being chewed at mercilessly, and it was wearing at his ability to be aware. The most frightening aspect of Loki’s situation, though, was that he was beginning to find familiarity with the Chitauri’s voice. It was not comforting, but it was something he knew, something that he could predict. It was the single aspect that he understood in his captivity.
            “Your mouth is free, yet you are still so quiet.” The Chitauri mused, watching its pale captive flinch. Loki had been so unbelievably strong two weeks ago. It was amazing what time, and specific grooming, could do to someone—even if they are a god. “I have made arrangements to get you cleaned.” The cell stank of blood, sweat, and sex. Add in a layer of vomit, and it was nearly unlivable. The Chitauri wanted it cleaned, but that was not the main goal. It was another chance to pick away at Loki’s grasp on reality.
            The mention of being clean, of water, thrilled Loki, and that disgusted him. He was so pathetic that the idea of bathing, something he had done in Asgard without thought, was exciting. It revealed to him how truly desperate he felt in this situation. A bath was simply that important to him. Perhaps it was the idea of scrubbing the filth off of his body that made him react so positively. It didn’t even bother Loki when the Chitauri strode forward. The noise was heavy, as if the Chitauri was purposely making itself known so that it did not startle him.
            That was something that Loki did not understand. The Chitauri, while it had defiled him, was continually trying to play nice. It had fed him, given him food, held him as he threw up, and sat quietly while he struggled to comprehend what was going on. It was hard to pinpoint exactly why the Chitauri was doing what it was doing, but Loki was not objecting. At times, he was thankful for the random one-sided conversations. He never responded, but the Chitauri seemed okay with that.
            Watching Loki process what it had said had been amusing. Shock and then a light the Chitauri had not seen for quite some time lit up in his eyes. Loki was looking forward to simply bathing, which meant its plans were working beautifully. It kneeled down on one knee in front of Loki. Its fingers brushed Loki’s ankles and then trailed along his calves. The skin was surprisingly smooth, something that it loved. However, it loved the way Loki twitched and hissed through his teeth more. Its hands finally stopped at the chains holding Loki’s arms down.
            “I am going to release you from the chains,” The Chitauri murmured, slipping its fingers beneath Loki’s, its thumbs pressing over the tops of his hands. “Do not do anything reckless.” It was a warning, but the Chitauri knew Loki would behave. The chains holding the cuffs to the floor disintegrated under its will. They fell, clattering loudly in the silent cell. When the Chitauri moved to help Loki stand, he was met with what he assumed was Loki’s attempt at pushing it away. It knew that Loki had lost a considerable amount of strength, and after two weeks of being unable to hold down any food and being immobile, he would be lucky to walk under his own power.
That did not stop the Chitauri from watching Loki try. It could see the muscles in Loki’s thighs trembling as he stood. One hand was placed on the wall for support, a feeble attempt at being independent. Just as Loki managed to completely stand, his left knee gave in. He stumbled, but the Chitauri did not move to help. It was allowing Loki independence—letting him believe that he was doing this on his own. Its gaze followed the rigid muscles of Loki’s abdomen and arms, and then finally strayed on his face. Loki was flushed with effort, but his eyes glittered with determination that the Chitauri had not witnessed the last few nights.
Finally, both of Loki’s knees caved. He fell, hard, to the floor. The sharp inhale was audible, and the pain from his fall burst through his body. Just weeks ago, he survived being brutalized by the Hulk. Now he could barely stand. Loki could only think about how pathetic he was, but that only lasted a few seconds. Without his permission, the Chitauri reached down and slipped its arms beneath his back and under his knees. It was as if he weighed nothing. It simply stood with Loki cradled in his arms like a wounded child.
Loki was becoming used to humiliation. In this place, the only emotions he could rely on were anger, humiliation, and fear. They were attaching themselves to him as if they belonged there, and he was slowly forgetting what it felt like to feel indifferent, to feel triumph, to be anything but a ball of hatred. He supposed, though, that he should be accustomed to those emotions. After all, he clearly illustrated hatred and vengeance to Thor and Odin. Yet, this experience was helping him realize how out of touch he was with how he truly felt about anything and everything.
“You should be happy to leave this cell,” the Chitauri murmured, and Loki ground his molars in response, the muscle in his jaw flickering with tension. It still aggravated him whenever the Chitauri spoke, even if it was the only familiarity he had in this place. Loki wanted to try his chances at escape, but he knew running around naked and beaten would only get him killed or worse, put right back into that cell. He decided against retorting to the Chitauri’s statement, and instead observed the various halls that they were traveling.
It was surprisingly empty, and as if the Chitauri knew his thoughts, it said, “You are lucky. Most on this planet want a piece of you, and would do anything to tear you limb from limb.” Its eyes moved down to Loki, but he refused to return its gaze. He knew the Chitauri was right, but like hell he would acknowledge that.
The Chitauri stopped just outside of the bathing area. It had made sure that he and Loki would be alone. Having other creatures around would not be beneficial to its plan. After shifting Loki, it eased the heavy door open. Mist assaulted them, and Loki noticed that the baths were not cultivated. They were set deep within the planet, the water letting occasional wisps of steam from the broken surface. It would have worried Loki if the water had not been so clear. He tensed as he was set beside the water, but did not move. His gaze stayed on the Chitauri, concerned about what, exactly, it wanted in return for the bath.
“Get in,” the Chitauri gestured at the water and then smirked at the glower that crossed Loki’s face. It was amusing that he still had fight left in him, even if it was simply a glare. “If you do not want a bath, I can certainly bring you back to your cell.” The glower temporarily changed to fear, and then Loki was closed off once again. It watched as Loki slipped a few fingers into the water, testing it. Perhaps he suspected that it was made of acid. He would be pleasantly surprised, then.
The water was hot, but not uncomfortably so. Loki pressed his lips together, concentrating on ignoring the Chitauri’s eyes. He moved his hands over the edge of the water hole, his palms pressing into the hard soil for balance as he shifted his entire body into the water. Wounds screamed in protest as the water swallowed his body to his shoulders. His feet touched the bottom of what he assumed was a spring. There was not anywhere sit, but the water kept him from sinking or using too much energy trying to stay up.
The Chitauri watched Loki adjust to the water. It kept its smirk hidden as it slipped down into the water. Loki looked panicked, but it didn’t deter the Chitauri from moving forward. As water lapped at its waist, Loki became more and more rigid. “Do not worry, little prince,” it murmured, “I’m just going to help clean you.”
“That’s amusing, since you are the reason that I need a bath in the first place.” Loki snapped, and for a moment, fear gripped him. The Chitauri did not retaliate like Loki thought he would, but it did not stop advancing. It slipped an arm beneath the water, its large hand cupping Loki’s ass possessively. It started to ache with the need to be inside of Loki, but it reminded itself that the purpose of this particular adventure was not to destroy more of Loki’s body, but to chip away at his mind.
Instead of digging its fingers into Loki’s tight warmth, it brushed its digits along his skin, massaging away the mess it had left. Its hands worked from Loki’s thighs to his stomach. The filth fell away easily in the hot water, but Loki still flinched and held his breath with each touch. When the Chitauri’s fingers reached his shoulders, Loki tried to push himself away. Instead of holding him still, it allowed him to flee from its touch. It was surprising to Loki that the Chitauri did not force him to stay put.
“I want to wash your hair, my little prince. Come here,” the Chitauri wanted to be patient with Loki, to show him compassion in his confinement. The god watched him carefully, but he seemed to realize that complying was his only option. He slid forward in the water until his chest nearly touched the Chitauri’s. His heart hammered against his sternum, and his breath was equally choppy. Loki did not trust it, but saying no at this point was not in his best interest. He tensed as the Chitauri slid its fingers over his shoulders. It put enough pressure there to turn him around in the water, so his back was facing its chest. Fear made him shiver, but it did not do anything to hurt him. In fact, the Chitauri slid its fingers through his tangled hair, being careful not to pull at his scalp.
“Tilt your head back,” the Chitauri murmured. It smirked as Loki did as he was told, his thick, raven strands dipping into the water. Its fingers worked through the matted thickness, pulling apart knots and maneuvering the water through each handful. Loki’s hair was admittedly beautiful—thick, long, with natural waves curling it against his pale skin. It was the perfect contrast, and it was hard for the Chitauri not to fist it and take Loki right there in the water. His hair would, in its opinion, make the flush of Loki’s cheeks as it took sheathed itself into his tight body that much brighter.
It may go against the Chitauri’s plans to violate Loki in such a carnal way in the water, but it could always take advantage in another, mind-crippling way. After untangling the last knot, it eased Loki forward until his chest touched the wall of the spring. Loki immediately began to squirm, but it took hold of his hips and leaned down to brush its mouth over his shoulder. “Relax; I am not going to hurt you.”
Loki sucked in a harsh breath, fear rampant in his mind as he was pinned in the Chitauri’s hold. The fear remained even as it murmured reassuringly against his skin. Its right hand stayed firmly planted on his hip, while the other moved in front of his hips. The large hand brushed against his thighs, and then brushed his sharp hipbone. Its fingers found their way to his cock, and they curled around it. Loki gasped and attempted to move away, but it only pushed his ass against the obvious erection that the Chitauri was sporting.
“Calm down, my little prince. I do not plan on taking pleasure in your body,” the Chitauri slid its tongue over the juncture of Loki’s neck and shoulder, making him shiver. While he was repulsed by the affection, his body could not keep itself from hardening in its hand. Shame rolled viciously into his gut, replacing the fear. Instead of trying to flee, he planted his hands on the wall of the spring and dug his fingers into the soil. It was all he could do as the hand that held his cock began to tug, stroke, and squeeze. Heat pooled low in his stomach, causing his hips to twitch and jerk involuntarily. He tried to keep his lips sealed, unwilling to make a sound while his body was violated.
“You are gorgeous,” the Chitauri cooed, squeezing Loki’s swollen cock. Its thumb pressed over the head, rubbing along the ridge before brushing along the slit. Loki’s entire body tensed and a small moan managed to escape his lips. “That’s good. Open your mouth; let me hear you.” Knowing Loki would refuse, it used its free hand to slip up to his jaw and pressed a finger against his lips. It was pleased when Loki opened his mouth. He was learning. “Good, my little prince.”
When the Chitauri’s finger pressed into his mouth, Loki tried not to gag. He allowed it to brush over his tongue, press against his teeth, forcing his mouth to stay open while its other hand worked viciously at his erection. He whimpered and gasped, unable to keep himself quiet with his mouth forced open. Arousal pumped alongside horror, but Loki could not help the thrust of his hips or the constant, little noises. He was not in any pain—far from it. The Chitauri was making sure that with each stroke, its finger brushed against the tender underside of the head, and when it reached the base, it would take a moment to cup and roll his balls around in his palm.
The pleasure from the constant assault was beginning to make Loki delirious. After so long of enduring pain, starvation, and blindness, the change was almost overwhelming. He writhed against the Chitauri’s chest, and his hands clenched the soil for stability. Breathing became difficult as Loki gasped and whimpered, but the Chitauri kept his digit against his tongue and its hand tight on his cock. It was merciless, continuing its harsh movements while Loki lost what grasp he had on reality. He arched his back as the pleasure became blinding. His head dropped back against the Chitauri’s shoulder and he cried out as his body finally undulated.
Each pulse of pleasure forced Loki’s fingers deeper into the soil. His teeth clamped down on the Chitauri’s finger, but it did not seem to faze the creature. It continued its manipulation of his cock, pushing him over each crashing wave of bliss. The pulsing lasted for mere seconds, even if it felt like eons for Loki. When he finally began to recover, his body was tingling and he was exhausted. The Chitauri had an arm around his waist, apparently to keep him from slipping deeper into the water. Its free hand stroked his hip and its lips were settled on his shoulder.
It was affectionate, and Loki did not have the mind to process why the Chitauri was doing it or how it would influence his opinion later. He was boneless in the Chitauri’s arms as it once again cradled him against its chest. The step out of the spring made him shudder, the air uncomfortably cold. He was set down carefully, still stabilized by its arm around his waist. A cloth, much larger than he was used to, wrapped around his body. Again, Loki was lifted from the floor and into its arms. That was probably for the best—he had no strength to keep himself on his own feet.
“You did well, my little prince,” the Chitauri smiled to itself as it walked through the halls. The cell was not far, but it took an unexpected turn down a hallway Loki did not recognize. He began to stiffen in its arms, but the Chitauri squeezed him reassuringly. “You are safe with me. Do not fret.” It eased another door open and Loki looked around nervously. It was a bedroom. The bed was large enough to accommodate the Chitauri, but there was not any other furniture. “You will stay in here from now on.”
How long had it been since Loki slept on a bed? At this point, he wasn’t even certain about how long he had actually been on this planet. He had a sinking feeling that if Thor had not come to help him yet, he was not coming at all. The thought made his gut clench and his heart sputter, and he suddenly realized that he might be spending quite a bit of time with this particular Chitauri. He grimaced at the idea, but welcomed the softness of the bed as he was set down. The bed was not as soft as his, yet it was a far cry from sleeping on a cement floor.
“Why are you treating me like this?” Loki murmured. His voice was wrought with exhaustion, but for once, it held no contempt.
“Because you are mine and mine alone, my little prince.”
- 5
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The Chitauri's Revenge