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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.

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Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, nor do I make money off of this story.
The Chitauri’s Revenge
Chapter 8
            Loki was allowed a few hours to himself after he woke from his nightmare. His thoughts rolled around Thor and about the possibilities of his response to Loki’s state. Surely, he would not call Loki a whore? Would he not understand that Loki wanted none of this, that the Chitauri had control over his mind and his silver tongue? Would he still drag Loki in front of the All Father? Would he defend Loki, even after seeing what was going on between him and the Chitauri?
            Bile rose into Loki’s throat and he stumbled to the side of the bed to retch. It was fluid, and little at that. It was obvious that he was wasting away. He could not remember the last time he had eaten or drank. The proof was in what little stomach acid he produced, and he shuddered in revulsion. The Chitauri were keeping him weak by starving him, and while it was torturous, Loki commended them for their tactics. Without his magic, and certainly without nourishment, he was as dangerous as a mortal child.
            Tears burned Loki’s eyes and he swallowed in an attempt to ease the irritation in his throat. It did not work. He forced his body into a sitting position and hated that his heart beat as if he had run the entire Asgardian city. It was most beneficial that there was not a mirror in the room. If Loki had seen himself—his gaunt cheeks, emotionless eyes, and thin body—he may have just given up. Thor had not come to save him, and while Loki had yearned for help, the thought of Thor seeing him like this—defiled and disgusting—made him retch again.
            The door opened and it startled Loki. He sat back and yanked the sheets over his body. He may not have any strength left, but he still had some dignity to preserve. His eyes strayed on the door and fear chewed at his gut. He secretly hoped that it was his Chitauri, but his luck was next to none. Instead, the Other slipped in, its slit gaze falling on the frail body on the bed. It laughed and Loki sucked in a tight breath through his clenched teeth. He had barely healed from the lashing and he was dreading what the Other had in mind for him now.
            The Other moved forward and Loki dug his fingers into the sheets in a hopeless attempt to ground himself. He understood that pain was inevitable when the Other was around, but he preferred it to rape. His insides were still tender from earlier. The salve had helped, but the lingering burn and ache in his lower back was a reminder that, in this state, absolutely anything could be done to him.
            “I know what you fear most.” The Other mused as it watched Loki shudder. It leaned down just enough to caress his cheek with its claws. “How fitting that you should fear the loss of he who was pushed farther and farther away.” It chuckled and Loki clenched his jaw.
            “You made me do those things,” Loki pointed out. His voice was not as strong and accusing as he would like, but he could not allow the Other to taunt him.
            “And you loved doing them.” The Other smirked and grasped Loki’s jaw. It forced Loki to angle his chin up so their eyes could meet. “You enjoyed watching him break beneath your words and betrayal. You felt the power and relished it.”
            “I didn’t.” Loki’s cheeks flushed hot with anger, his temper beginning to get the better of him. “It was you and your torture that pushed me that far.”
            “If you insist,” The Other shrugged, as if that was that, and then leaned so that its lips brushed Loki’s ear. “I hope you enjoy your sleep.”
            “Wha—“ Loki flinched as talons raked over his temples. Blood seeped from the wounds, and all he could do was gasp as darkness flooded his vision.
            When Loki woke, he realized that the shackles on his wrists and ankles bit into his skin. Small droplets of blood slipped from the wounds, and as he looked up, shock slapped him so hard that he was unable to form words. He was in a cell, but not just any cell. No, he was in one of the cells beneath the castle in Asgard. The glittering walls that held him in were a welcoming sight and relief spread through him. If he was in Asgard, he was no longer a prisoner of the Chitauri. He did not remember how he was saved, much less the travel back to Asgard, but he was thankful for it.
            The sound of heavy footfalls made Loki look up. Thor, still covered in armor, walked up to his cage. He looked inside Loki’s cell and their eyes met. All at once, Loki crumbled. His eyes closed and his shoulders slumped. What he had done to Thor was beyond what was forgivable, but he cherished what little fondness he still had for the trickster.
            “You claimed that you liked it, brother.”
            Again, Loki’s body froze. Had that not been a nightmare? Had he not woken up in the Chitauri’s bed? Was Thor real? Confusion made his mind spiral and he swallowed dryly. What response, if any, would Thor accept? Yes, he had been fucked several times by the Chitauri. Yes, he had cum with gasps and moans, but they were all against his will. He had fought—scratched and hit and bit—desperately trying to free himself. Nothing had worked, and he still struggled with how Thor managed to drag him out of that hell hole.
            Loki finally tilted his head up to look at Thor. He was sure his eyes were glossy with tears and that his skin was blushed with humiliation. Weariness dug into his gut as Thor slipped the disc into the wall. The cell walls fell, but Loki could not move to attempt any sort of escape. He had no energy to do so. He simply watched as Thor, with his thick boots and billowing cape, stalked up to him. Another dry swallow and Loki shuddered. He was actually frightened of Thor—something that had never occurred before. His eyes were impossibly hardened, his lips set in a grim line.
            “What would you have me say?” Loki rasped and flinched. He must have screamed more than he had previously thought. Talking was difficult, bordering painful.
            “Tell me that you lied to me, brother. Tell me it was your silver tongue talking instead of you.” Thor’s voice was almost pleading and it gripped Loki. Thor still cared even though he had been so uncharacteristically rough earlier.
            “I cannot,” Loki admitted and allowed his gaze to drop to the floor. He was being completely honest with Thor. Yes, he had been raped multiple times. It had hurt for the majority of it, but there were times when that silent Chitauri, the one who called him ‘my little prince,’ was kind to him. It had made him writhe and moan in pleasure, gasping his release without ever breaching his body. It had given him safety in the least likely of places. “There were—“
            Before Loki could explain himself, Thor dug his fingers into his wild, unkempt hair and yanked him up to his feet. Loki stumbled, pain searing his scalp and making him unsteady. He was thankful for the thin robe covering his body, for the other prisoners seemed to have gained interest in their conversation.
            “Thor, st—“
            “Did you sleep with the Chitauri for the Tesseract, brother?” Thor hissed, “Is that what granted you the power you so yearned for?” He lightened his grip in Loki’s hair only to grab the back of his neck. “You have done so many cruel things. I would have no doubt that you would sacrifice yourself for such power.” Instead of holding Loki there, as he thought Thor would do, he pulled him forward. Loki stumbled out of the cell, nearly tripping on the ledge as his brother tugged him along.
            “I wonder what you look like when you are completely powerless, brother,” Thor moved to another cell and looked back at Loki. He was shivering, malnourished and exhausted. Yet, he still needed to learn his place. He was not to become king of any realm, and he needed to understand that he was not in the position to demand or request anything. Thor slipped a disc into its sheath, and a small opening parted to another cell. Loki looked up and felt the color drain from his face.
            “Thor—Thor, what are you doing?” Loki suddenly found his voice and it was loud. He struggled against Thor’s hold as he was pushed forward. His ankles hit the edge of the cell and he tumbled. His hands and arms hit the ground, his hips and legs following next. As soon as he collected himself, Loki pushed himself to his feet and staggered to the right. The cell had several prisoners in it. They all knew who Loki was and were eager to show him exactly how they felt about him.
            “You cannot do this to me!” Loki cried at Thor and shoved his fists against the glittering barrier. His body was thrown back, as if he had forgotten about the consequence of touching it, and his back hit the floor with a sickening thud. He gasped for breath, rolled over onto his stomach, and then pushed himself onto his feet again. Before he could plead with Thor, one of the prisoners grabbed him around the waist and hauled him against his chest. Loki fought, but the shackles on his ankles and wrists prevented him from dislodging the prisoner.
            “The bitch fights quite a bit.” The prisoner laughed. The other two stepped in front of Loki, admiring the way he squirmed. Loki closed his eyes, silently praying that the three would simply beat him. When had he become so submissive? When had he given up so much that lowly prisoners could harm him? His thoughts abruptly stopped as a fist collided with his stomach. He gasped but did not make a noise. Another fist hit him, and Loki would have doubled over if he had not been held by the first prisoner.
            “Where is your magic now, prince?” One teased before his fist collided with Loki’s jaw. His head snapped to the side and he tasted blood. The world spun, but he did not have enough time to collect himself. Another hit landed on his cheek, and Loki realized he was simply using what energy he had left to keep himself conscious. He parted his lips to let the stream of blood drip down his chin instead of his throat. Instead of looking at his attackers, Loki turned his head to look back at Thor, who stood so solemnly, as if he was the one being beaten. He began to writhe again in the prisoner’s hold and then grunted as one of the prisoners kneed him in the stomach. He gasped for breath, but the blows became so frequent, with little rest between, that Loki could barely see or breathe.
            When they finally stopped, Loki was released. He crumpled to the ground, a shivering and gasping mess of blood, gashes, scrapes, and limbs. At this point, he could barely move, much less breathe. He only managed to look to the side, at his brother, who watched with sickening indifference. The way Loki was lying made him choke on his own blood, and in an attempt to help his breathing, he moved just enough to sputter some of the liquid on the ground. Just the movement made him moan in pain, but he could not help the relief he felt when he thought about what could have happened.
            “You two can have fun with him,” Loki heard one of the prisoners say, his voice thick with disgust, “I don’t take pleasure from another man’s body.”
            Loki would have vomited if he could have. They were going to take him. He shook his head, whimpering ‘no’ several times as one of the prisoner’s hiked his body onto his knees and chest. He did not have enough energy to fight anymore, but he was still watching Thor in dismay as the flimsy robe he had on was torn from his body. He parted his lips, wanting to plead and beg for help. All that came out was a cry of pain as the first prisoner sheathed himself, with just the help of his spit, into his body. Tears slipped from Loki’s eyes as he gasped desperately for breath. He was in agony—pure agony—and Thor had turned away as the prisoner began to thrust into his body.
            “Th—Thor, look at me,” Loki snapped and then cried out again at another vicious thrust, “You did this to me.” He was on the verge of sobs, his struggle to keep his composure completely gone. The prisoner grunted and groaned his pleasure with each brutal movement. He took a handful of Loki’s hair and forced him to tilt his head back. The view of the prince, sprawled and writhing below him, sent him over. He came inside of Loki, and with a hiss, he removed himself so that his seed decorated Loki’s pale back.
            The second guard was readying himself to take Loki when the building trembled. Loki opened his eyes, but his vision was too blurry to see Thor’s expression before he charged out of the prison. He had left him alone with the two prisoners, and Loki hated him for it. He hated him so deeply that, as the prisoner sheathed himself inside of his body, all he could feel was the emotional betrayal. He closed his eyes and tried, with everything inside of him, to put himself elsewhere, to hide from what was happening to him.
            “You’re such a good bitch, such a good Juton whore,” the prisoner groaned, releasing his seed into Loki just as the prisons themselves began to tremble and quake with whatever was coming toward them. The prisoners looked up, terrified as the entrance to the cell room crumbled. However, Loki stayed on his stomach, his legs bent below him. Without the prisoner’s help in keeping him stable, he was absolutely useless. Underneath what was left of his ripped robe, Loki curled and tucked his arms around his thin legs. The prisoners’ yells and cries of terror went unnoticed, as did the clank of whoever was moving along the path of the cells.
            Loki did not even notice when the wave of magic destroyed the cell walls. He felt its tingle along his skin like a lost lover, but did not bother to raise his head. It would be a blessing for whatever was there to end his misery. If this is how Asgard would punish him, he would rather meet death head on. Despite his agony, Loki shifted just enough to see who was walking so proudly through the hall. His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened in shock.
            “My little prince,” the Chitauri murmured, his voice dismayed as it finally found the cell that Loki was being held in. The troops were holding off the soldiers, so it did not rush. Its Loki, its prince, lie broken in the cell, unable to move through the obvious agony his body was in. The Chitauri hissed and stepped forward, its slit eyes moving over the other prisoners. It growled something below its breath, and they screamed and crumpled, blood gushing from every orifice it could possibly leak through. Instead of paying mind to the corpses, the Chitauri stepped forward and knelt next to Loki.
            “I apologize for not coming sooner,” the Chitauri reached out to touch Loki’s hair, but it did not mind when the broken body flinched. “I will get you out of here.” Even if it was careful, it knew that this would hurt him. Slowly, the Chitauri gathered Loki’s body into its arms. It stood slowly, but it did not stop the groan and gasp from the mess it was cradling. “Oh, my little prince…” Anguish was in its voice, and that was the last thing Loki heard before he succumbed to darkness.
            The Other smirked, watching Loki writhe and cry in his sleep. The Chitauri who had taken the main roll in their plan was lying next to him, one of its arms looped around his waist. It cooed and whispered into Loki’s ear as the nightmare rolled on. This was just another part of the plan. The only way to truly break Loki would be to dig deep within his mind, to break everything he trusted and loved, and Thor was above all else. The Other knew that when Loki woke, his hatred for Thor would bleed out any reason for his desire to go back to Asgard or to side with The All Father and Thor.
            “Are you done yet?” The Chituari muttered to its counterpart. It tucked a piece of Loki’s hair behind his ear, its gaze never leaving his face. Loki was in agony, physically and emotionally. The pain was real, the bruises, cuts, lacerations, and gashes that decorated Loki’s body. It may have been a nightmare, but The Other wanted to make certain that Loki saw it as real. It wanted Loki broken and it was tired of waiting for the Chitauri to do its job. It watched as blood dampened the bed below Loki’s body, watched as tears slipped down his face, his expression contorted in agony.
            “Loki belongs to me, creature,” The Other snapped, baring its fangs. “Do not forget your place. You are simply a tool to ensure his demise.”
            The Chitauri scowled, unable to help itself. It was irritated that the Other stepped in. He had been working on Loki’s stability, had it cradled in its hand, and the Other took it. Loki may be damaged beyond the ability to return to his magic-wielding self, his silver-tongue. The Chitauri felt it had been too much in too little time. The Other would be lucky to have Loki at his strongest again after this trauma.
            Finally, the Other left. The Chitauri watched closely, ensuring that the door slipped closed behind it. After waiting a few moments, it slipped a hand through Loki’s hair and then stroked his cheek. It wanted Loki to wake from his nightmare, but it understood that Loki needed to feel that he had slept for quite some time after his “rescue.”
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The Chitauri's Revenge