And just for this moment
As long as you're mine
I've lost all resistance
And crossed some borderline
And if it turns out
It's over too fast
I'll make ev'ry last moment last
As long as you're mine
Tony Stark was in his lab on this night, seeking comfort in his work after the news came from Asgard that Loki had somehow escaped and was on the run—from Odin and the Chitauri. The Avengers were on high alert and had gathered at Stark Tower, newly renamed Avengers Tower, waiting for Thor's return and any sign of the God of Mischief.
Each Avenger had a floor of their own; the top three floors of the tower belonged to Tony. His lab was on the bottom of the three, the second housed his personal gym, a kitchen and a recreational room full of toys: an Iron Man pinball machine, a movie projector that screened movies on a bare wall, a pool table that morphed for air hockey; and the top floor had his remodeled lounge, a few bedrooms, including the master bedroom, and of course, his beloved bar and extensive liquor collection. He decided to head up the elevator, to take a break, and get a drink. Ever since he heard about Loki's escape, from Fury, his mind kept drifting back to that little tête à tête he and Loki shared just four months before. He would gladly remove the arc reactor and toss it over the railing of the tower himself before he would admit to anyone how much he thought of that day. Well...of those moments with Loki, at least.
He couldn't deny an attraction to the tall, lean, pale god. But then again, he was Tony Stark; he was attracted to everyone. He just didn't like it when he was presented with something he really wanted yet couldn't get his hands on. And getting his hands on Loki, though no doubt would be fun—for them both—it couldn't really happen. And it was dangerous, he had to firmly remind himself; for both of them.
As a vital part of the Avengers—who are we kidding? The most important member—Iron Man could not be caught in a compromising position with someone as evil and threatening a villain as Loki Laufeyson. Fraternizing with the enemy and all that; plus, as an Avenger he had an obligation to the people of Earth and would have to immediately turn Loki over to S.H.I.E.L.D. Not to mention he would prefer not to have every bone in his body hammered to bits by one God of Thunder and his mighty Mjölnir.
As for Loki—possible incarceration was the least of his problems. Any chance of being seen by anyone—the Avengers, the warriors of Asgard, the Chitauri—at this point, was dangerous for him. For his life.
Still, Tony thought as he perused his stock of expensive and top notch liquors, what he would do to that body if he had a good ten minutes with him.
Tony chuckled at his own thoughts—and adjusted the inevitable hard-on the thought of Loki always brought on—and had just taken his first sip when he saw movement, a shadow, outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. He pushed one of the glass doors open and stepped out. At the last minute he wondered if he should have gotten his suit first.
But it was only Clint.
"What the hell are you doing up there?" he demanded as the archer landed nimbly on his feet after leaping down from one of the stone statues overlooking the city of New York.
"Cap put me on night watch up here."
"Why?"
Clint's face didn't change, but he stared quietly at Tony for a moment. "No reason," he said finally, with a careless shrug. "Just a little problem we call Loki."
Tony scoffed and drank deeply from his glass. "I mean, why did he put you up here, smart ass? For one thing, why does everyone think he'll come back to this spot anyway? This was the scene of the crime, where we stopped his quest for world domination and Brucie did a little redecorating with that pretty little face of his."
They both paused, their eyes meeting in a fleeting, questioning glance.
What dark, dirty corner of his mind was that nugget just waiting to escape from?
Clint looked away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony drain the rest of the liquid in his glass. "You sure you ought to be indulging right now? Aren't we all on guard here?"
Tony cocked an eyebrow in a move that read 'Really, Clint?' Clint must have gotten the hint. He shrugged again and did another sweep of the panoramic view with his sharp, blue eyes.
"Why don't you head down to your own floor, Prince of Thieves? I'm not comfortable with you creeping around my space. Besides, I've got JARVIS to protect me, remember?"
"But—"
Tony held up the empty glass and three of his fingers to cut him off. "Don't worry. I'll let Captain Sparkly Pants know. Get out of here."
Knowing better than to argue with the man who owned their headquarters, Clint bid him goodnight, headed back inside and straight to the elevator. Tony looked out at the bustling city, even at half past midnight, and sighed. Sometimes he hated being here. Too much of a reminder of his father. And his mother. He looked away, not wanting to remember those memories, and found himself recalling others.
The balcony wasn't remodeled exactly the same as before it was destroyed. Nevertheless, his chocolate brown eyes flicked from the part of the balcony he had first spotted Loki, waiting for his Chitauri army, when he landed in his wrecked suit that day, to the window he was thrown through just moments later. His blood surged through his veins at the memory of the rush he felt when Loki's long fingers wrapped around his throat, when his face—with those impossibly sharp cheekbones, glittering, flashing blue eyes, and enticing pale pink lips—was just inches from his own.
Only Tony Stark would think of nibbling, sucking, and biting on the lips of the man threatening to kill him; the man who had literally had Tony's life in his hands.
With a rueful shake of his head, he headed back inside to refill his glass. He had just started out of the room when he felt it—a cool chill brush across the back of his neck.
"Sir."
Tony's lips pursed. "I got it, JARVIS." He affixed a neutral, blank look on his face, and spun around. He never let the surprise show, but he was. The helmet was gone; there was no distinguished leather and metal getup, no scepter in his hand. He stood by the window, like he had that day, the city at his back, in a simple outfit of black pants, a hunter green collared shirt, and a long black coat. Tony swallowed the saliva that had filled his mouth. "You lost?" he quipped.
Loki's eyes remained fixed on Tony's and that sexy little smirk curved his lips. "Not at all. Thought I'd pop in and say hello."
Tony forced out a chuckle, but that's exactly what it sounded like—forced. "Yeah, right. Where're your horns, Reindeer Games?"
Loki's smirk melted into a wistful grin and, clasping his hands behind his back, moved toward the bar. "I'm sure you're aware I've managed to escape Odin's clutches, yes?"
Tony nodded.
"Unfortunately, I wasn't able to retrieve my scepter or much else. I'm lucky I managed to snatch this off a hook in the prison they tried to secure me in." He flicked the lapel of the coat, before shrugging it off his shoulders and setting it aside as he slid onto one of the barstools.
"I don't think luck is a word that applies to anything that you do." Tony hadn't moved from his spot; he didn't dare. If he moved over to the bar, or anywhere near Loki, he already knew they would both be in serious trouble.
Loki laughed softly then gestured lightly toward the collections of bottles and glasses behind the bar. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"
Damn it all to hell. "Fine," he muttered and reluctantly made his way behind the bar, set down his glass. "What's your poison?"
"I am sure whatever it is you're drinking will suffice."
Without another word, Tony pulled out a tumbler from under the bar and filled it halfway with Jack Daniels. Seconds after sliding it across the counter to Loki, it slid back, empty. He looked at it, frowned.
"Why won't you look at me?"
Fuck. Inhaling deeply, Tony's eyes flicked up, met a pair of deep green eyes. Green? He could've sworn his eyes were blue. He must have looked confused, because...
"Is there a problem?"
"No, I...I thought your eyes were blue. That's all." Dropping his gaze he refilled his glass and Loki's before placing it in front of him. He watched Loki's fingers wrap around the glass, felt that damn rush again.
"That day, they were. Side effect of the tesseract's influence, thanks to the Chitauri. You'll remember the Hawk's eyes were similarly blue. More so than usual," he added before Tony could speak. He took a long drink, swallowed and sighed a bit at the burn down his throat to his empty stomach. When had he last refueled? He couldn't remember. He drank again. It wasn't what he was used to on Asgard, he thought as he ran his tongue across his lips, but it was good. "I must admit, Stark..."
Tony looked up at his name. It was the first time Loki had ever used it.
"I'm surprised you remember the color of my eyes." He lifted the glass again, fixed Tony with a steady gaze over its rim. "Should I be flattered?"
Tony feigned indifference, though inside everything was fluttering, beating a mile a minute, or generally spazzing out in a way he refused to on the outside. He finished off his drink to calm it all down. "Are you asking permission? I thought you did what you wanted. Or is that just a bunch of bullshit?"
It was silent for a beat. "Quite right."
Tony jerked back, but could go nowhere, when Loki's arm snaked out, his hand fisting in Tony's black Aerosmith tee, and pulled him across the bar to plant his mouth on his. Tony's lips parted to object, but when he felt that long, velvety tongue slide into his mouth, he forgot whatever it was he was going to say.
Loki broke the kiss but didn't move away.
The breath Tony let out was joined by a soft whine, complaining at the loss of contact. How did this guy do that to fucking Iron Man? "Loki."
"Don't. Don't put that magnificent brain to use right now. Just for this moment. Just give me this moment..." His hands slipped through Tony's hair, caressing, cajoling, moving down to his jaw.
Tony's thoughts were a jumbled mess. He knew he should resist, but when did he ever do what he was supposed to? He laid his forehead against Loki's, wrapped his fingers around the god's forearms and debated for only a second. "JARVIS, lock down the elevator. No one gets to my floors without my permission."
"Yes, sir. For how long do you want it on lockdown?"
Tony breathed out a laugh at Loki's shocked expression at JARVIS' response. "Until I say so."
"Yes, sir. Lock down initiated."
At the affirmation, Tony cupped Loki's face in one hand and brought his mouth back to his. He stumbled back when Loki lifted a long leg over the bar and agilely jumped over it to stand before him. "Maybe...maybe my brain isn't working too great at the moment...they could kill me for this."
Loki's finger pressed to Tony's lips, his body pressed into his. "Is that a yes?" His voice was pure silk, draping over Tony's senses like a soft, warm blanket. He nipped at Tony's bottom lip and Tony sighed.
"I...I seem to have lost my ability to resist you." He glanced down at Loki's hands which had started to roam over his chest and shoulders. "I think I've fallen under your spell..." He groaned softly when Loki teased his mouth again, chuckled. "You know there's no future for us..."
Loki pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "I know; I don't care. Just give me this night...Anthony..." He kissed him again, fiercely; his arms slid around his waist, held him tightly.
"Mmm, take it, Loki. Take me..." Tony was yanked against his hard body even closer. There was a whiff of air, a slight sizzle, and suddenly he was under that long, lean frame, his back was pressed to his bed. "Whoa."
Loki grinned and leaned down to kiss him again, grinding his hips into Tony's, eliciting an erotic groan from the shorter man. His hands slid under the dark shirt, dragging it up until Tony lifted it over his head, along with the long sleeved shirt that was under it. In the darkness of the room, Tony's arc reactor was the only light, casting Loki's face in pale blue.
Those sharp green eyes fell to it, and with curiosity glittering in them, he trailed a finger in a circle on the skin surrounding it. Tony felt a little bolt of panic, until Loki lifted his eyes to his.
"It's like moonlight."
Tony smiled softly, relieved, and pulled him down again. "Take off your clothes," he demanded against Loki's mouth. "I need to feel you against me." Loki moaned and reached for the hem of his shirt. He pushed up to his knees to pull it over his head and Tony sat up with him, his hands going straight for the fly of Loki's trousers.
Loki watched him, his hands, undo the snap and lower the zipper; he smiled at the surprise then pleasure that flittered across Tony's face when he saw that Loki wore no underwear. Loki's head fell back on a sigh, his hand pressed to the back of Tony's head when Tony leaned forward and pressed his lips to Loki's hipbone as he shoved the dark slacks down Loki's thighs.
"Anthony..." he groaned out when, as soon as it was free from the constraints of his pants, his cock was wrapped in the warm wetness of Tony's mouth.
Tony's hands slipped around to cup Loki's ass and he hummed out a laugh when Loki let out a quiet noise of surprise at the squeeze he gave his cheeks. Loki's hips began to move and soon he was fucking Tony's mouth.
"Good to know that mouth works for more than just sass. Ah!" His hips jerked back when Tony's teeth clamped down lightly on the sensitive tip of Loki's cock. With a smirk, Loki shoved him back to the bed. He glanced down at the bulge straining against Tony's jeans, and the smirk widened at the way Tony tensed when a subtle flick of his wrist had them both instantly naked. Tony's nearly black eyes flew to Loki's.
"Wicked," he breathed out through a smile.
Loki slid a hand down Tony's right thigh, lifted it to wrap the leg around his waist, and positioned himself between Tony's spread legs.
"Th-there's lube in the drawer—there," he pointed at the nightstand by the bed, his breath coming in pants.
Loki mischievously let the tip of his cock rub against Tony's entrance. Tony's hips lifted automatically to meet it. "Would you prefer I use that?"
"I prefer not to have to answer questions about why I'm walking funny tomorrow. Unnnh..." His hips continued to move along Loki's length in a teasingly tantalizing dance.
Loki groaned, low and long. "Your lubricant won't help that when I'm done with you."
Tony's head rolled back and to the side and he gritted his teeth. "Then fucking do it already, Loki. Oh, fuck!" Tony's hips rose from the bed, suspended in the air, when Loki plunged into him, filling him until his entire length was sheathed by Tony.
"Ohh, gods, Anthony... Better than I imagined it would be..."
Tony's hands went to Loki's hips, pulling and pushing at him. "Move, Loki. Fuck me...please, fuck me."
Loki moaned as his hips began to circle and pump in and out. "Even if it's just tonight, Anthony...," he leaned over Tony, slipping his hand through his hair to cup the back of his head and lift up his face to stare into those deep brown eyes. "You are mine."
Overcome with a lustful need like he had never felt before, Tony wrapped his arms around Loki's body and lifted his mouth to his, attacking with his lips, tongue, teeth. "Make me yours, Loki."
Loki snarled against his mouth and reached down to lift Tony's other leg to his waist, a hum of pleasure rumbled in his throat when Tony's thighs clenched around him. His hands fisted in the linen on either side of Tony's head, balancing himself, as he rocked against Tony, slamming himself into the smaller but compact body writhing beneath him, over and over again. He would remember forever, he thought, the erotic and wanton sounds falling from Tony's lips, the way he moaned out his name as his fingers clawed at him, scratched him, leaving his mark on his pale skin. The scratches may disappear eventually but the memory of this night would keep Loki warm when he inevitably went back into hiding.
He was pulled back into the present when Tony reached between their bodies and began to stroke himself in time to Loki's thrusts.
"Ohh...Loki..."
Putting his weight on one hand, Loki gently brushed aside Tony's hand and took him in his own. And Tony gasped.
"Oh, fucking hell. What did you...oh my god! Oh!" Tony's body tensed, wanting to curl in on itself, but couldn't because of the body sprawled over him.
"Don't fight it, Anthony." Tony's eyes grew wide when Loki's hand began to glow with a faint green light.
Magic, he thought. He's using magic on me. A warm, liquid-y feeling came over him, like he was sinking into a tub of hot water, and his muscles started to relax, his eyes fluttered closed. He felt Loki at his neck, nuzzling with his nose, most likely leaving marks with his lips and teeth, and making grunting like an animal sound sexy as hell.
"...Loki..."
"Hnngh...Stark." Loki pressed his face into the curve of Tony's neck, his hips thrusting, his hand pumping. "Er du min..." With a breathy moan, Loki came inside Tony, and repeated the foreign phrase into his ear, this time adding, "Alltid."
Tony held onto Loki, his fingers curling into soft black hair, storing the strange words away for later investigation, as Loki stroked him, his hand moving impossibly fast, the green light of his magic blending then overcoming the blue of the arc reactor, until he reached his release, crying out into Loki's shoulder before sinking his teeth into him.
His arms and legs went limp, falling from around Loki, dropping to the bed. He opened his eyes briefly, sleepily, his lips parting to speak. Loki beat him to it, pressing his fingers to Tony's lips, muttering something else in that same foreign language, and then he was asleep.
Three months later...
Tony carried a glass of scotch in each hand, used his back to push open the glass door, and joined the man at the railing overlooking New York, lit up more than usual. He held a glass out, waited for the other to take it with a nod of thanks. "It's not mead, but…it'll do." He sipped at his drink. "Still nothing, huh?"
Thor spared him a brief glance, his blue eyes duller than Tony had ever seen them, the shadows beneath them nearly purple against his skin that grew more and more ashen every time he returned. "No," he croaked out after tasting the scotch. "There has been no sign of Loki anywhere, in any realm."
Tony drank, more to wash away the taste of sick Thor's confirmation had him swallowing back. "You don't think...I mean I know he had some issues, but he wouldn't..." Thor turned his head and Tony immediately felt bad for even having the thought. "He wouldn't harm himself, would he?" He felt worse when the biggest man on the planet's face crumpled in a silent sob and he dropped his head to his forearm resting on the railing.
Thor quickly composed himself and straightened again. "I do not know, Man of Iron. I have exhausted every avenue I can think of to contact him, his allies, even his enemies. It is as if he has…disappeared."
Tony nodded. He knew the feeling. He disappeared from Tony's bed and then nothing for three months. They said just one night, but, as usual, Tony wanted what he couldn't have, and was pissed off that there was nothing he could do to get what he wanted. Tony glanced back at the lounge where the other Avengers were happily celebrating Christmas with Director Fury, Agent Hill, and a recuperated Agent Coulson. With Coulson finally healed from the wound inflicted by Loki, it was cause to celebrate, but Thor was too worried about his brother, and damn it, so was Tony. He had been waiting for the right moment to ask Thor something, but the God of Thunder had lately become the God of Depression and there never seemed to be a 'right' moment. To hell with it.
"Thor, this is probably not a great time to ask, but...well, I was reading up on my Norse mythology." Thor looked up at him and Tony hoped he couldn't tell that was a complete and blatant lie. "Anyway, I came across a Norse phrase I couldn't translate."
"What was it?"
"Er du min alltid?" Tony took a small step back when Thor straightened instantly.
"Where did you hear this phrase, Tony Stark?"
"I, I told you. In my research. Why? What does it mean?"
"I am unsure why it would appear in any books on the history—or mythology, as you call it—of Asgard, but..." He sighed, lifted his broad shoulders briefly. "It means 'you are mine forever.'"
Tony watched wide-eyed and slack-jawed as the blond mountain walked silently back into the tower. He looked around, his eyes not really taking anything in, and felt an ache under the arc reactor that was starting to become all too familiar. "Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, covering his face with his free hand. "You son of a bitch!" He yelled into his hand, tossing down his still half-full glass, shattering it into a million pieces near his feet.
"Tony!"
"I'm fine, Natasha." He held up a hand to her, signaling for her to stay back when she tried to come out. "I just got a little jumpy. Go back inside." After she did, he gave himself a good five minutes to calm down. Starting to feel the bite of the icy December wind, Tony headed back toward the glass door. Just before he reached the door, he saw it: a small square of white, nestled in the door handle. He glanced around the balcony, narrowing his eyes at the shadows, searching, he knew, for green eyes and pale skin. When he found nothing, he snatched up the note and flipped it open, read the cursive script in green ink.
"Midnight."
Without a second thought, Tony flipped his wrist to check the time, and smiled. He tucked the note into the inside pocket of his blazer and yanked open the glass door.
"All right, come on, losers! Open up those gifts, pat Coulson on the back, and finish your drinks. I've got work to do in the lab and I'm kicking you all out in twenty minutes. Merry fucking Christmas!"