It's days like this that Steve envies Tony.
Tony is carefree, seemingly without effort. His responsibilities are practically nonexistent. Not because he hasn't been given any, but because he's the type who just doesn't accept responsibility and God help whoever tries to force him.
Steve has neither the inclination nor the slyness required to defy SHIELD like Tony does. But sometimes, sometimes, he wishes he could escape. Take a week off like Tony did that one time when he disappeared to who knows where. It's a nice fantasy, even if he knows it would be ill-advised, stupid, and most of all, irresponsible.
Today, Steve's resolve on that issue is wavering just a little bit. He leans his head against the elevator wall and resists the urge to bang his head into it repeatedly. The floors click by slowly. His apartment seems endlessly far away.
He tries not to think about his terrible day and fails.
First, there is the bombing in Texas. Fury says it was the work of a certain Victor Von Doom, a new criminal whose work in robotics even Tony drools over. Steve runs his hand through his hair. They barely finish bundling Loki off to Asgard a few months ago and already, there's another psycho on the loose.
If that isn't enough, Tony is stubbornly volatile the entire day. Come lunch break, Bruce asks jokingly if it was girl trouble. Tony punchs him right in the jaw. Steve is forced to mediate (as usual). His attempts at reconciling the two fail (as usual). The Avengers are fighting amongst themselves again, and this isn't the first time Iron Man is the cause of it.
Steve shuts his eyes. The elevator bings. He ignores it, lost in thought and guilt and maybe the beginnings of self-doubt.
Only an hour after lunch, Thor pops up to inform SHIELD that Loki has escaped Asgard, the explanation of which is still woefully incomplete. Clint, understandably, is livid. And who has to physically restrain Hawkeye when he tries to practically assualt Thor? Good ol' Captain America.
Although, he has to admit, once Natasha returned from the bathroom, she handles it from there. He's not sure what she said to Clint, but whatever it is calms him down exponentially.
Finally, Steve has to talk Bruce down from another episode after Tony started needling the doctor about his ex-girlfriend (Betty? Steve isn't quite sure). It's... terrifying, seeing the mild-mannered doctor with veins standing out on his neck and sweating in an effort to control the Hulk inside of him.
By the end of the day, the two were chatting excitedly about some new discovery together and Steve, while relieved, knows it's only a matter of time. Tony doesn't change, the Hulk doesn't change. Captain America, the eternal peacekeeper, doesn't change, either.
Steve leaves the elevator. Sighing, he fumbles with the key for a few moments before drawing it out of his pocket.
He slots it into the keyhole, pushes open the door, freezes with premonition that comes just a little too late.
Could this day get any worse? Steve thinks and, as the long-haired man standing in his living room turns, he answers his own question.
The sleek black hair would be unmistakable even by itself, even without the distinctive armor. Loki turns and Steve is speechless for a second.
"You—" Steve starts and Loki flicks his hand in an almost careless way. A rope appears, writhing in the air and looking strangely alive. It wraps around him, winding tighter and tighter. Steve manages to tear, desperately, at one section before his hands are bound.
Loki frowns theatrically. The ropes pull tighter, dragging Steve towards the god.
"No," he pants and struggles harder. His shirt, a simple cotton button-down, rips at his right shoulder. It's not reinforced like his Captain America suit and, at the thought, he wishes desperately for his shield. Steve doesn't stand a chance against Loki like this.
They both know it too. It's clear from the madness in Loki's green eyes that the thought excites him.
Loki glances at the little tear in the fabric in a way Steve can't quite identify. Approving? Curious? He doesn't know what it means and doesn't want to.
"Stop struggling," the god says sharply, a thin rope reaching up to wrap around Steve's neck. He coughs and chokes. His body stills instinctively, although his mind is screaming against the darkness eating away at his vision
Phone. Camera. Fury had cameras installed outside his apartment building. Why did I insist on them not being inside? Now I'm going to die and it's all because I wanted some damn privacy.The ropes loosen and Steve splutters, vision returning even if he's not sure he wants it to.
Loki examines a basic wooden chair he's just conjured with satisfaction. "Get on the chair," he orders in a tone Steve hasn't heard before and, unthinkingly, he obeys. The ropes bind him tightly to the chair.
"So easy," smirks the god. "The great Captain America, reduced to this, and without even a fight. As weak as Iron Man outside of his suit."
"Tony?" asks Steve, a wave of concern surfacing. "You…?"
"No, no," Loki murmurs and steps closer. He touches Steve's face almost gently and Steve strains against his bonds to turn away. "Breaking your little Iron Man would be far too easy."
"Tony would never break because of you," snarls Steve.
"Who said I meant it like that?" A smile twitches over Loki's lips. His finger nudges Steve's mouth. "There are more meanings to the word break, you know. Which you'll discover, I'm sure."
"You're not making any sense." The god ignores him.
"Aren't you noble? Worried about defending your friend's honor while you yourself have bigger things to think about."
"How did you break out of Asgard?"
Loki backhands him without a second glance.
Steve repeats the question, blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. Loki, shrugging, turns away for a moment and Steve takes advantage to throw himself forward. He smashes into Loki's back. The god falls, momentarily stunned, but so does Steve and he crashes against the wooden floor, his cheek pressed up against the cold surface.
He's upright again before he can even think. This time, he feels something in his mouth and realizes with horror it's a ball gag.
"Bad boy," says Loki, pushing himself up from the floor as if nothing had happened. "Very bad. You know, when I first came to your measly home, all I planned on doing was taking you." He smiles at a horrified Steve. "But I think I'll have to do something much worse to our pretty little Captain."
Steve mumbles against the gag uncomfortably. Loki guesses at the general gist of the protest with a single raised eyebrow.
"I'm sure you think that whatever I do to you, you can stand. That you won't bend or break, you'll just take whatever I give you."
Loki strokes the side of his neck with one hand and lets it wander over to Steve's slightly exposed right shoulder. Steve's skin prickles at the touch.
"Well, you're wrong. I know," Loki breathes into his ear, the ropes winding tighter. "Just how to hurt such a man like you. Just how to drive you mad."
The cords across his chest dissolve but the ones around his limbs tighten. They pull his arms back, lash his calves to the legs of the chair, hold his neck in an awkward position that keeps him looking down. What is he going to do?
Steve expected death, he expected torture. He expected all of these things but what's happening now is different from that. It's very different. He shudders again, feeling and seeing Loki's pale fingers caress him. Air swirls against his skin as his shirt is unbuttoned.
The hot breath of Loki mingles with the cool air. Steve struggles hopelessly against his bonds. Subconsciously, he knows what's coming. But now his mind is a mess of sensations, random thoughts, a repeating reel of curse words.
Loki unzips his pants and pulls out Steve's cock, half-hard from the Loki's light touches. He taps it with a single finger tauntingly and kneels. "Bad Captain. Hard for your enemy?"
No, no, nonono—
Loki takes him into his mouth all at once and Steve cries out around the ball gag. Normally, his manners prevent him from cursing but this, this is wrong, this is bad, he is crying out curses rendered unintelligible by the gag and suddenly the gag isn't there anymore and he is shouting them.
Steve holds back, tries to hold back. His body shakes. Loki lets his tongue run up the bottom of Steve's hard cock and watches as the man attempts to conceal how good it feels. Loki knows it feels good. He can taste the pre-cum in his mouth and it tastes like victory.
"Stop," Steve shouts with remarkable self-control. "Stop, no, stop."
"You don't mean that," growls Loki. A new idea comes to him. "Okay."
Steve stares at him through half-lidded eyes, a multitude of emotions running through him. He tries not to disentangle them. He's afraid of what he might find.
Loki stands up, backs away, and sits on the windowsill. The skyline frames him perfectly and the artist in Steve, ridiculously, croons silently at the sight. The only light in the room is that of the city that never sleeps and it plays up the lines of Loki's face admirably.
Steve is panting, but he tries to get himself under control. He ignores the green eyes zeroed in on his face. Guilt swells up inside of him as his cock twitches painfully, traitorously. He hears Loki laugh quietly and ignores the urge to beg for the god's mouth back on him.
He closes his eyes and hears footsteps approaching him. No, no, no, stop thinking about this. Loki breathes out a few words, too close. "Don't close your eyes, Captain. Or I'll make you regret it and not in a fun way." When Steve hesitates, the ropes twist one of his ankles in an excruciating way.
Steve holds in a yell but opens his eyes. Loki watches him with amusement. "Give in to your pride, Captain. Beg. I could stay here all night, watching you slowly crumble."
The words inflame Steve's pride and he sets his mouth into a resolute line, ignoring the pleas of his heavy, painful cock. Time drags by. Loki's smile doesn't falter in the least. Steve tries to fall asleep, tries to do anything but sit here with an erection and think about Loki's mouth on him.
Steve tries, but every time he thinks he's distracted enough, he looks up and meets Loki's green eyes and suddenly there it is again. Lust battles with his pride. He's afraid of what will win.
The worst part is knowing that he can end it. And that the price is not painful, the price is not betrayal, it's not going to harm anything but his pride. Steve can say one word and Loki will leave, he can say one word and be done with this night forever. Loki watches him as if he can read Steve's thoughts. The god stretches like a cat in a way that's surprisingly seductive.
"Well?" he says.
Loki's lips are still moving when Steve mumbles, "Please."
"Please what?"
"Please—please—" his tongue feels like it's stuck to the roof of his mouth and he struggles with it for a few moments before the words come rushing out. "Please take me, hit me, do anything you want but just let me cum. Please."
Loki eyes him. "Who knew you had it in you to beg, Captain?" he says mockingly but saunters over at an easy pace. He reaches out, his fingers nearly touching Steve's cock and Steve moans before he knows what he's doing.
"Very good," whispers Loki and wraps his fingers around Steve's dick. Steve shudders underneath his touch and loses himself in the sensation. It's over all too quickly, the god smiling as cum splatters against Steve's chest. His heart feels as if it's going to beat until it beats through his ribcage.
He can't think. He can't think of what he's supposed to be doing or where he's supposed to be. He's trapped in Loki's gaze, trapped under Loki's fingers, caught in a mental fog he's never felt before. Maybe he just doesn't want to remember; maybe he can't. Loki leans down for a few parting words.
"Tell your friends, don't tell your friends, I don't care," purrs Loki, the implication clear that he thinks Steve won't bother telling. He smiles toothily. "Goodbye, Captain." He disappears in a swish of dark cloth and a few moments later, Steve's bonds loosen, fall, vanish.
The only things Loki leave behind are the plain wooden chair and the liquid pooled on Steve's still heaving chest.
