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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 9
            When Loki woke, he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. His body ached. Every muscle, despite having just woken up, was taut and shaking from injury and anxiety. When he tried to relax, when he demanded that his muscles release, they tightened in protest. He almost cried out with pain, but bit it back in favor for a guttural moan. It was after he had given up on relaxing that he noticed he was currently in a bed. He was not in shackles, not on a cold floor, and not being sodomized and beaten by prisoners.
            Thor.
            Thor had done that to him. He had let the guards beat and rape him.
            Each breath became shorter, and as each breath became shorter, Loki’s world became smaller. He gulped down oxygen, but his lungs still felt as if they were starving for it. He put his hands up to his face, and he was surprised to feel the wetness that covered his cheeks. He was sobbing, which explained why he couldn’t manage to catch his breath. How could Thor do that to him? Did he truly hate him enough to watch as he was defiled and rendered helpless? Did Loki mean so little to him?
            Loki was shocked to realize he was having a panic attack. He could not breathe, but that was not the worst part. He was going back to the prisoners—the way he was held down, how his hair had been yanked, how he had been called a Juton whore. The anxiety began to mount viciously, clawing at him until he fell out of the bed. It hurt, gods, did it hurt, but it had nothing on the mental struggle he was experiencing. He dug his nails against the ground, desperately trying to scratch his way into a corner. A corner was safe. He could see all sides of the room from the corner, and he was less likely to be attacked.
            Thor. Thor, please, no.
            Loki’s body collapsed against the floor, his sobs becoming so violent that he could not move himself any longer. When strong arms circled his waist, Loki screamed. He screamed and bit and scratched and writhed. He fought with what little energy he had, and by the time he had worn himself out, he was heaving and trembling.
            “No, please, no, spare me…” Loki begged.
            “Ssh, my little prince.” The Chitauri had let Loki fight. It knew that it was letting Loki vent his frustrations. It sat on its bed, Loki a mess in its lap. “It’s just me and we are alone.” It slipped its fingers through Loki’s messy hair, pushing it from his pale and blotchy face. “You are safe, Loki—“ but Loki still struggled, as feeble as it was, until he collapsed in a fit of gasps and whimpers.
            Damn it. The Other most surely went too far. Loki was useless like this. There was not any positive outcome to the God of Mischief being unable to talk coherently, much less face the only safety he truly had. The Chitauri shifted the broken mess into one arm, and pulled the covers down with the other. It looked at Loki’s face. His charcoal lashes swept over his pink-tinted cheeks, his lips full and slightly swollen from being bitten. It took a lot to keep the Chitauri from taking advantage of him, but it knew that it needed Loki to see it as his savior—not as another monster.
            Carefully, the Chitauri tucked Loki into the bed. Its fingers brushed along his cheeks, once again slipping his hair away from his face. His eyelids fluttered open, but the green was glazed with exhaustion. That spark that the Chitauri had loved seeing was gone, and despite knowing it was for the plan, it couldn’t help but feel guilty. It wanted Loki wrapped around its finger, it wanted him for a tool to become powerful, but more than anything, it wanted Loki to overthrow the Other. It was amusing how everything moved in a malicious circle. Needless to say, the Chitauri was tired of seeing the Other use its kind as war machines, as brainless, emotionless monsters.
            “You are safe here, my little prince. Safe.” The Chitauri pulled the blanket over Loki’s chest. “After you rest, I will tend to your wounds,” it hesitated for a moment before frowning, “that your brother inflicted on you.”
            As planned, the last statement sent Loki into another panic attack. He gasped and writhed on the bed, fresh tears slipping down his temples and dampening the roots of his hair. As the Chitauri took hold of his biceps, Loki wailed. It was high-pitched, desperate, and although the Chitauri regretted sending him into this frenzy, it was needed to solidify that Thor was the enemy. He was at fault for the pain Loki had gone through.
            “Prince, prince—Loki,” The Chitauri’s voice was smooth, a deep rumble within its chest as it pulled Loki to its body and cradled him. He cooed Loki’s name repeatedly, one hand holding his back while the other slid through the tangles of his hair. “You are safe, safe, my little prince… big breaths, in slowly, out slowly. Come on, my little prince.”
            Thor—would he take him? Would Thor pin him down and push himself inside of his body? Loki fought for breath, his mind quickly tumbling into what ifs. He had always known there was a difference between them. He had never truly been his brother, and for a long time, Loki had been terrified when his body and mind began to lust after Thor. It had been sinful and Loki had hid away for months in his room, his nose in books and his chest tight whenever he had thought about his brother.
            So, when Loki once again began to think about Thor, his golden skin, his powerful body, ravishing him, his body hardened. It was so unbelievably shameful. Even through his fear and his panic attack, Loki’s feelings toward Thor reared its ugly head. He struggled between gulping for breath and groaning in terror. Even after what Thor had done to him, even after watching Loki sprawled out, bleeding and begging, even though he allowed the prisoners free reign, Loki still yearned for him. Thor had even left to see what was happening without pulling Loki free of his torture. Yet, Loki still wanted him.
            Thor had let him suffer. He had watched. He had put him there. Loki retched, despite having nothing in his stomach. It was only then that he began to hear the soft murmurs against his ear and the solid hold that the Chitauri had on him. The panic began to ease enough that Loki was able to recognize who was cradling him. It was the same creature that had gathered him into its arms and carried him away from his torture. It had saved him.
            “There, big breaths,” the Chitauri watched as Loki finally began to relax. He still shook, but his massive twitches and sobs had stopped. “Look at me,” it encouraged and moved its hand from Loki’s hair to his chin. It tilted his head up, taking in the furrowed brows, the crease on the bridge of his nose, the trembling of his parted lips, and the flush on his skin. The Chitauri ran its finger over his lower lip, still just as soft as it remembered aside from the bite marks.
            “You do not have to go back,” it whispered, “I will keep you safe here. You will be my everything, my little prince, my love.” It was lying, a skill that led to it being chosen to manipulate Loki. The words, while they were lies, seemed to sink into Loki’s mind. Despite everything, a flicker of caution swept over his beautiful features, his dazzling green eyes becoming a darker hue. “You may not like it here, but it is better than—“ the Chitauri stopped, as if it was considering its words (although it was only for show), “being in Asgard’s cells.”
            Loki had managed to calm down, but his mind still worked at a snail’s pace. It took in the Chitauri’s words, twisted them, and then spat them back out. All he could hear was ‘Asgard’ and then his thoughts would trail to Thor. He had been his protector and the one person who still had some confidence in him while he had suffered the Chitauri’s control.
            Wait—the Chitauri. Loki shoved his palms against its chest, scrambling with renewed energy to get away. It let him go, thank the gods, it let him go—and he pushed himself against the wall that the bed sat against. His heart was beating so rapidly that it hurt his chest, and he was sure the Chitauri could see it. He was so thin. Eating anything solid would probably destroy his stomach. At this point, Loki was not sure if he even cared.
            “I will leave you be.” The Chitauri murmured, and true to its word, it lifted itself off of its bed and left Loki alone. The guilt that settled into his stomach moments after he was alone was wrong. He should not feel guilty about shoving one of his abusers away from him. He should not feel a connection with something so vile.
            But it had saved him.
            It had saved him and soothed him.
            It had protected him against his brother.
            It had killed the prisoners that had taken advantage of him.
            Loki swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He opened his eyes to look around the room. Sitting next to the bed was the jar of salve that had been used on his lashes. He looked at it wearily for a moment before he crawled to the edge of the bed to retrieve it. After what the prisoners did to him, Loki needed healing, and he could not use his magic. He pulled the cloth covering from the jar and sniffed it. It was not offensive, but was it not amusing that he was thinking about the smell of a healing agent when he had just had a panic attack moments earlier?
            Big breath in—big breath out. Loki shuddered. Somehow, someway, he would have to survive. Even if he felt vulnerable, disgusting, and resentful, he needed to survive, if only to see Thor burn. He shivered at the idea and was immediately infuriated with himself. He should feel no remorse, no regret for wanting Thor to suffer, not after—not after that. Another shudder racked his body and he almost retched again. No, he needed to stay calm at least long enough to put the medicine on his wounds. Big breath in—big breath out.
            After calming himself enough to think as coherently as he possibly could, Loki dipped two fingers into the salve. It was smooth and easily manipulated, which made it perfect for tending wounds. He pulled the blanket from his body with the opposite hand. Despite his actions toward the Chitauri, he did not want to drip salve all over its bedding. After all, that might warrant punishment. Loki flinched at the idea of more lashings, but regained control once again to slip his fingers over the various cuts and gashes left on his body. He expected it to hurt, but the salve began to numb the wounds on contact.
            The last wound left to tend to after a half hour of careful inspection was his insides. Yet, Loki was not certain if he could bring himself to touch there. How many had used him in the last two weeks? Four? Five? At this point, he truly had no idea, and he was not sure how he would respond to fingers, even his own, inside of him. However, Loki knew that it had to be done. He had been taken too roughly, without any oil or preparation, and the dampness on his thighs was a testament to the torn and abused flesh. Then it occurred to him that preventing dripping salve onto the bedding was ridiculous. It was already soiled with his own blood.
            If Loki did not heal, though, he would bleed until he could bleed no more. He grimaced at the idea of bleeding to death. He may be considered immortal, but between the malnourishment and the pain and suffering, he was not sure how much longer he could hold himself up. Not that this was technically holding himself up. This was pathetic. He could barely think of Thor, in all his glory, without becoming emotionally crippled. The fear that gripped him would have angered him, if he had any true sense left.
            Reluctantly, Loki dipped two fingers into the salve. He reminded himself to breathe as he settled one digit at the puckered, swollen hole. At first, he froze. Dread made him weary, but dying to get it over with, Loki shoved the first finger in. He cried out, realizing what an awful idea it was to be rough, and tried to curl up on himself. It was impossible because of the awkward angle of his arm, so he stayed still as his body adjusted to the harsh intrusion. The salve eventually numbed what his finger could reach, so he slipped it in further.
            That was when the Chitauri decided to step in. The door slid open and the creature froze. Loki was naked, tucked in a position that allowed him to slip a finger into his body. His lips were parted, his cheeks blushed enough to reach the tip of his ears. His eyes were glazed, probably in pain, but the Chitauri’s mind did not take it that way. Loki was simply a mess of a prince, fingering himself on its bed. It surged forward, despite the flash of fear that crossed the prince’s face, and pinned him against the bed. The ache in between its legs demanded relief, and as Loki whimpered, it pulsed. The Chitauri had tried to fight off its need, but it could no longer keep itself from having him.
            Panic swept Loki, cold and unforgiving. He became taut beneath the Chitauri, tears already pooling into the roots of his hair. No, he had to bargain. He had to beg. He had to do something. The Chitauri wouldn’t hurt him. It had shown him that, had it not?
            “Please—I—I’ll do anything, I cannot take this again,” Loki hated that his voice sounded so broken. He hated that he was so weak, but the creature above him did pause. He held his breath, and then almost cried in relief as the Chitauri picked itself off of his body.
            “My little prince…” The Chitauri had almost destroyed the plan. It had almost taken Loki, whether he had wanted it or not, and the pleasure would have been unmeasurable. Instead, it shifted uncomfortably, its facial features contorting in discomfort before it finally settled down at the edge of the bed. “I apologize. You… Do you need help?” What kind of a question was that? Loki had been in the middle of trying to soothe his aches and it had seen something completely different.
            Loki stared at the Chitauri, and he did realize that its intention was not to harm him. He watched the creature closely, still apprehensive. Yet, it stayed still, and that gave Loki enough confidence to uncurl his defensive position. He swallowed, once again reminding himself that the Chitauri had saved him. “I can’t… I can’t do it on my own.” Admitting his uselessness made him flinch, but it was the truth. It would be easier to let the Chitauri, who he had some trust in, manage the wreckage on his insides.
            This was definitely progress. The Chitauri had almost taken Loki against his will, but he was already asking for help. Perhaps it had not destroyed everything. That did not excuse its actions, though, so the Chitauri nodded solemnly and turned to the black-haired prince and hesitated. “It would be easier on your side, my little prince.” The lashes on his back were still fresh, and Loki seemed to agree with him. He turned onto his left side and made sure that there was room behind him for the Chitauri.
            Carefully, the Chitauri settled onto its own side. It slid a hand down Loki’s ass and along the back of his thigh gently. “I’m going to balance your leg with my own,” it warned, not wanting to startle Loki. To keep his leg elevated, it slid its own between his so that the leg was bent at the knee and comfortable. It helped part the globes of his ass without hurting his various other wounds. “Hand me the salve, my little prince.”
            Loki, fear still biting at his raw nerves, picked the jar up enough so that the Chitauri could slip two fingers into it. He set the jar back down and then went rigid as the two digits moved over his abused hole. They simply stroked, though, coating the rigid muscle and the skin around it in the numbing medicine. Loki had not even considered that and he wished he had. The Chitauri was obviously versed in the medicine. He shivered, ignoring the disgust rolling through his gut as one finger finally slipped in. He was still reliving what had happened—the look on Thor’s face as the prisoner sank into his body.
            Panic. Loki gasped for breath, his hands scrambling against the sheets for some type of purchase. It was just the Chitauri. It was not the prisoner; it was not the one who had held him while the others beat him. It wasn’t. Why wasn’t Thor helping him? Why wasn’t he grabbing him and holding him so protectively like he had always done? Why was he letting this happen to him? “No!” His cry was strangled, and his movements became jerky as he tried to crawl away from the body behind him.
            Before Loki could hurt himself, the Chitauri slipped an arm around his waist and held him close. He was writhing and gasping. It seemed as if his mind had sent him back into the cell and the Chitauri tried not to curse. The Other had truly done too much. It kept its hold tight on Loki because it knew that the panic would pass. He just needed time. “Sssh, my little prince. It’s just me, you’re safe, you’re safe, big breath in, big breath out…” Yet, even as Chitauri cooed, Loki fought.
            The Chitauri had to do something to rip Loki from his memories. In a desperate attempt to save Loki from himself, it slipped a single finger inside of him and curled it. Immediately, Loki’s body went taut. It had remembered that bundle of nerves that caused Loki’s body to melt from their previous activities, and it hoped that circling, pushing, and prodding it would rip Loki from his nightmare. Loki gasped, arched his back, and then whimpered. It was a good sign, so the Chitauri, a little gentler, slipped its finger back and then forward again, curling just enough to brush that spot. Loki sucked in a hot breath, and it watched as his lips parted and his eyes closed. He tilted his hips backward, as if he knew it would be easier for the Chitauri to please him that way.
            And it did.
            The Chitauri continued to move its finger in and along the tight walls of Loki’s body. It still cooed and murmured against his ear, small nothings that it hoped Loki heard between his breathy noises and sharp gasps. Finally, one of Loki’s hands released its death grip on the sheets. Instead, it slid back to the Chitauri’s hip, holding it for stability as he rocked his hips back against its finger. It had to bite back a moan. It was torture to watch Loki, son of Odin, prince, gyrate his hips back against its own finger. It wanted to take him—gods, it wanted it, but now would be detrimental to the plan and their “relationship.”
            Pleasure. Loki was feeling pleasure. He groaned, somewhat shocked at the wave of electricity that shot over his skin. His mind worked to figure out what it was, and that was when he was brought back to reality. He dropped his head against the bed, his muscles relaxing as he acknowledged that he was not being raped, that the Chitauri had pulled him from his nightmare with pleasure. Another wave, but this time stronger, crashed into him and he arched his body. His fingers dug against its hip as he cried out, the pleasure so opposite of what his mind had played that it was almost too much for him to handle.
            “There, my little prince,” the Chitauri murmured. It had ignored the ache between its legs, only concentrated on helping Loki through his panic attack. It curled its finger again and smiled at the groan that escaped his lips. “Think only of the pleasure. Feel it, bask in it.” Every syllable was punctuated with its finger sliding deeper, and Loki couldn’t help the noises he began to make as each movement put him closer to climaxing. He tried to listen, his thoughts becoming vacant as he turned himself over to his body. The more he simply did not think, the wilder he became: squirming, gasping, whimpering, and scratching as the Chitauri worked his body like a well-tuned instrument.
            Loki’s climax was almost painful. His entire body went taut and his lungs froze. He choked on a cry as each wave of crippling pleasure moistened the sheets and his stomach. His nails bit into the Chitauri’s hip, blood swelling around his fingers, but it didn’t seem to affect it. Its fingers continued to brush against Loki’s prostate, slowly easing him down from his high as he trembled and gasped. The Chitauri had to admit that Loki was one of the most beautiful creatures it had ever seen. Even skinny and abused, he made a gorgeous image as he came, his expression torn between pleasure and pain, his lips parted, his skin flushed. Absolutely breath-taking.
            That was when the Chitauri realized just how hard it was. It needed release, and it knew because the arousal was becoming painful. With a grunt, the Chitauri eased itself from behind Loki and stood a bit awkwardly. As much as it wanted to stay and take advantage of Loki, it knew it needed to leave. Instead of climbing on top of Loki and sheathing itself in that tight heat, it strode toward the door.
            “Wait,” Loki’s voice was raspy, from pain or the intense pleasure, the Chitauri wasn’t sure. However, it turned around, and nearly groaned. Loki was sitting up on the bed, his hair messy, his cheeks pink, and his eyes curious. He did not look broken. No, he looked ravaged—ravaged and needy. It could not imagine what was going on in Loki’s mind, but its legs moved before its brain did, and it was once again standing in front of Loki. Its own arousal was obvious, and chills broke out over its skin as it watched Loki’s eyes drop to the bulge.
            “Prince,” the Chitauri sucked in a sharp breath as one of Loki’s hands slipped over the hardened flesh. His fingers curled, testing the weight of its organ before stroking once. It was still covered by cloth, but it almost didn’t matter. It was the first time Loki had willingly touched it, and his cautious movements almost made him seem completely innocent. He would end up driving the Chitauri mad. “Please, prince, I do not want to hurt you.” That made Loki’s hand freeze, and it scrambled to fix its mistake, “if you continue, I’ll want to take you, and I—you cannot handle that. I will not hurt you.”
            Loki looked up from his position. He had felt that same fear from before grip his gut, but the look the Chitauri gave him, and his explanation, made him relax. Instead of pulling away, Loki shifted his position and tugged the strings of the Chitauri’s pants loose. Its thick cock sprang forth and Loki shuddered. He knew he should not want to do this. He should be terrified and curled in the corner, desperately plotting his escape and Thor’s death. Yet, the Chitauri had treated him as well as it possibly could. It took care of him. It showed him affection and even strength when it resisted taking him. It deserved this release from Loki.
            “Loki.”
            “Yes?”
            “Please, I don’t want—“
            “Let me do this for you.”
            The Chitauri shut its mouth, but its eyes stayed open to stare in shock as Loki leaned forward to dip his tongue over the slit and head of its cock. It groaned and resisted the urge to press into Loki’s mouth. He was showing trust and it didn’t want to break that. Its patience, luckily, was rewarded, and Loki’s hot mouth surrounded the head of its cock. It gasped, and in an attempt to keep its control, slipped its fingers into Loki’s messy hair. It stroked as Loki sucked, his lips pressing down on the flesh as his tongue moved over the hot skin. Each movement made it groan and shiver.
            Loki was making it groan. He was giving it pleasure. He was making it twitch and spasm inside of his mouth. He loved it. In his desperation for something concrete, something real in his captivity, Loki found this. If this is what kept him from going completely insane, he would take it. Eager to feel more, Loki settled his hand around the base of the Chitauri’s cock and slid forward. He took small amounts of its cock into his mouth at a time, slowly, until he was near the base. Its girth and length forced him to swallow and he was surprised at the sharp gasp and moan it brought from the Chitauri. He slid back only to do it again, and as it began to get easier, he started to move quicker.
            It was almost too much just to watch. The Chitauri gripped Loki’s hair as he moved, sucking and swallowing almost the entirety of its cock. Just the sight of him taking all of its cock made it want to cum. Loki, prince of Asgard, was on his knees and willingly taking it into his mouth. The thought sent the Chitauri over. Its grip tightened in Loki’s hair, its hips pushing forward, shoving its cock further down Loki’s throat as it came. Loki was gagging and struggling to breathe, but managed to swallow most of what was given to him. When he couldn’t handle anymore, he let the substance slip over his lips and drip down his jaw.
            Finally, the Chitauri pulled away, its chest heaving with each ragged breath. “Oh, prince,” it murmured once it caught site of the mess on Loki’s jaw. He was beautiful, and the Chitauri couldn’t help but think ‘mine.’ “I believe a bath is in order.”
            Loki shuddered as the Chitauri’s arms moved around his waist and his knes. It lifted him up without any difficulty. It was then that Loki realized one thing: he was safe as long as he was with the Chitauri—safe from the Other, safe from the other prisoners, and most importantly, safe from Thor.

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A/N: Thanks to EVERYONE for reading and/or commenting! I appreciate everything you all have to say. :)
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The Chitauri's Revenge