A/N: This story is inspired by mstthreek's story Pretty When You Cry, my dear friend Samantha's speculation that the symptoms Loki exhibited in the beginning of The Avengers were those of heat torture, and, most importantly, pictures drawn by Kuakugava on DeviantArt.
Sweat dripped down Loki's face, parting from his skin once it had traveled for his jaw. The god's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his stomach rising and falling in a shallow rhythm. His arms ached from where he hung by the ceiling, suspended by two thick, slightly elastic chords. He was positioned so that his toes only barely brushed the floor, forcing himself to strain and shift in an attempt to relieve the stress on his arms.
Outside the chamber, Loki caught the subtle vibration of footsteps, which grew gradually louder as they came closer. Turned away from the door, Loki had no choice but to wait until his visitor chose to show themselves. The god wasn't afraid-very little could unnerve him after all he'd seen and experienced.
The subtle grind of stone against stone announced the arrival of his guest, whose heavy breathing filled the silence before it joined with the distinct click of blunt claws connecting with the stone floor. Instinctually, Loki tensed, the words The Other had spoken echoing through his ears: "We will make you long for something sweet as pain."
Two nights ago, he had been imprisoned in Asgard as the All Father and his council decided what his fate would be. Two nights ago, Loki had been dragged out by the three-fingered hands of two Chitauri, who stepped over the mangled bodies of the guards who had been positioned before his cell. Two nights ago, the last Loki saw as he was shoved into an aircraft was Asgard engulfed in flames.
The god had been hanging since, but had only been awake for about half that time. The muscles in his arms and back ached, the muted heat in the room and the strain on his body causing a sheen of sweat to form across his skin. They had torn his clothes away at some point, leaving him naked and exposed.
"Did you think you could escape us, little prince?" The Other's voice was condescending, containing a rumble of something near amusement. The two Chitauri who had accompanied him moved to grasp Loki's legs, hefting the god upwards so that he no longer held his own weight. Relief immediately flooded through Loki's arms, and a soft sigh escaped his lips before he could think to contain it.
The Other remained out of his sight, although he could feel the rasp of the creature's breath on the skin of his back. A moment later, the two-thumbed hand followed, brushing over the god's side. Loki immediately tensed further, his body giving a small jolt in reaction to the touch.
"You will never be free of us." The Other's breath brushed Loki's ear, the ominous whisper sending shivers through him. "You sold your soul to us, and we intend to keep it." A sudden, staggering jolt of agony shot through the god's body, which immediately arched in shock and pain. After a few moments, The Other retracted his hand. Loki didn't have to look to see that the creature wore a warped smile. "You are ours, and you forever shall be."