A/N: More notes at the end. This does get angsty, so consider that a fair warning.
With the bass thumping and an array of strobe lights flashing in his eyes, Loki knew he'd never hated Thor more than this moment. His brother had decided to go cavorting with his fraternity brothers, dragging a very unwilling Loki along in his wake.
Loki had fought the oaf the entire way, nearly lowering himself to biting and hair pulling if it kept him out of the damned club. His snarls had fallen on deaf ears, and upon arriving at the club, Loki was left at the bar while Thor and his companions took their beers and their dates to the dance floor.
The bartender appeared sympathetic at least, pushing a glass of what Loki recognized as a mojito towards him. Loki raised an eyebrow, his Really? unspoken but clearly understood by the man's sheepish shrug. He adjusted his glasses and slung a towel over his shoulder as he moved to stand across from Loki.
"Don't feel special," he began, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses, replacing them with a satisfied smile. "Someone ordered it and never came back for it. You looked rather pathetic after your boyfriend ditched you, so I thought you could use it. Plus, wasting drinks makes me angry. Very angry," the bartender explained, his tone a bit dark and forbidding.
Leery of the monster that lay beneath the ruffled-professor visage, Loki nodded and sipped at the mojito without protest, eyes widening at the taste.
"Firstly, Thor is not my boyfriend. He is my brother. Secondly, your skills are superb, if you can make a mojito of this calibre."
With only a lopsided smile as a reply, Loki spun on his stool to survey the dance floor. Thor and his ilk were neck deep in simpering females, their dancing animalistic and incredibly obscene. If Loki had desired to witness beastly mating rituals, he would have settled with a cup of tea and National Geographic in his apartment. Instead, he was forced to sit and watch the mating call of "MORE BEER!" bellowed throughout the club.
Unable to watch any longer, Loki pulled out his phone and opened his ebook app, scrolling through the titles with little interest. It was far too loud and raucous for him to read anything of substance, let alone enjoy the act of reading. Frustration led him to close the app, and stare desolately at his home screen. His dog Fenrir stared at him, the very picture of keen intelligence and sleek black fur. Leaving Fenrir had been one of the greatest drawbacks of attending university, and he missed him terribly.
Shaking his head to dislodge his maudlin musings, Loki considered the other applications of his phone. Despite Thor's repeated attempts, Loki would always uninstall Angry Birds, Candy Crush, and Farmville. Always. Not one for flashy games, the sole entertainment value on the device was Tetris, which was a time honored choice.
An hour of an intense battle with tetrominoes left Loki reaching for the mojito that he'd finished well into his second round of screen tapping. Emerging from the Tetris-fueled fugue, his eyes searched out the deceptively quiet bartender, who was at the opposite end of the bar chatting with a rather animated customer. Having no urges to incite the bartender's temper by calling him over, Loki settled upon hunching in his seat and glaring at the other customer.
The other customer looked as though he fell between Loki and Thor's age groups, with a youthful face and an artfully trimmed goatee. A whisper in the back of his mind placed it as a Van Dyke, though it seemed inconsequential when compared to the rakish black hair and startling brown eyes. Even with the strobe lights and the general dim setting of the club, Loki was convinced that those eyes were almost ethereal. The man was in a red and black leather jacket, the collar of a blood red shirt peeking out. When struck with the urge to run his hands through the man's hair, Loki quickly reined in his libido, though not quick enough to avoid meeting the man's gaze across the bar.
While Loki may have wanted another drink, all he got was a predator's smile with too many teeth. A quick conversation between the bartender and the man, then the man disappeared. The bartender took his time making his way to Loki, a quirk of smile tugging his mouth at one corner.
"I take it you'd like something to drink?"
"Mm. Imagine," Loki drawled, giving the bartender a pointed look. "As I do not aim to get drunk, another mojito. I swear on my life that I will drink it," Loki added, thumping a fist to his chest in mock loyalty.
"You shouldn't make fun of Bruce." The voice was a purr in his ear, sending shivers racing down his spine. Years of practice kept him from whirling around, though Loki was unsurprised to find the same man standing well within his personal space. Any number of lewd thoughts vied for Loki's attention, though he refused to acknowledge them. At this juncture, he was merely a designated driver for his brother, and hadn't the opportunity for flirting or fumbling in the back of a car later on.
"Certainly not," Loki replied, turning to face the man with a scowl. Their knees bumped as he swiveled on his stool, the heat of the man's jean clad legs searing through the thin fabric of Loki's slacks.
"He's a good person," the man said, hopping onto the stool next to Loki's with a grin. "As long as you don't make him mad."
"I've no intentions of angering anyone."
"So, you came in with that blond linebacker guy? The one who's been demanding mead and wenches for the past hour?"
Distracted by the thunk of his mojito being set down, Loki gave a noncommittal hum as he fell upon the drink. They truly were delicious, and wherever 'Bruce' kept his tip jar, Loki would be sure to leave a generous amount in thanks.
"A shame," the man drawled, signaling the bartender for another...whatever it is he drank. "Whatever" turned out to be a shot of whatever Bruce had on hand. The man seemingly had no preference and downed the glasses without complaint.
"Is there a particular reason you came to my end of the bar?"
"Mmm. You're very pretty," the man said without preamble.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You've got those high cheekbones, slicked back hair. You're wearing a vest and a fucking tie like you own it, and I'm positive you could pull it off drunk and half asleep. I could have used gorgeous, but that seems a bit too fast considering you're only on your second mojito," the man mocked, leaning into Loki's personal space once more.
While flustered, Loki could admit that the man was attractive, enjoyed playing games, and had declared Loki fit to pursue. The least he could do was make the chase enjoyable.
"I see. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from mocking my mojito. Bruce made it, and I find it to be a work of art."
Snickering, the man nodded while propping his elbows on the edge of the bar.
"Do you have a name? I know your linebacker goes by Thor. Are you named after a god of whatever too?"
"Unfortunately. I am Loki, of Asgard."
"Asgard as in the country?"
"Yes. I am burdened with glorious purpose; to be my brother's designated driver this evening."
"Shit luck, my man. Asgard, though? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Graduate school. It's as titillating as it sounds."
"It sounds absolutely scintillating, if your accent is anything to go by. Asgard is doing something right," the man said with a firm nod, brown eyes reflecting the strobe lights and a sense of mirth.
"What am I to call you?" Loki queried, tilting his head slightly. The man licked his lips, his pink tongue darting out briefly before disappearing. Loki was mesmerized, though he heard the man's low reply quite clearly.
"My name is Tony, and I think we should take this somewhere else."
Hardly surprised, Loki nodded his assent; they were moving at light speed and he couldn't bring himself to care. While Loki expected to be led out of the club and somewhere else, he didn't expect to be dragged onto the dance floor, navigating the myriad of gyrating bodies with a man he'd just met. Tony found a corner that was slightly less crowded, his expression bright with excitement and what Loki would classify as lust.
"What a shame you came here with someone," Tony called out above the music, tilting his head in Thor's general direction.
"Indeed," Loki replied, though he knew his reply was lost in the clamor of dancing and music blasting through the speakers.
Curious as to how Tony intended to dance with his several inch height difference, Loki was unprepared to be shoved against the wall, the searing contact of Tony's body following shortly after. Hips bucking of their own volition, Loki growled something unintelligible as the other man pressed closer, insinuating a knee between his thighs.
"Wanna get a little wild?" Tony asked, tilting his head back to stare at Loki.
"Yes," Loki hissed.
It was barely a breath but Tony saw. Tony knew. Tony's beard felt delicious as it scraped along his skin, his mouth mapping a trail of nips and marks that led to Loki's mouth. All consuming heat, the press of a thigh against his groin, hands in his hair; a tumult of sensation and stimuli that left Loki reeling.
Someone whined, high and needy. The music picked up, and it was imperative that they press together, rocking to the melody, locked together in an embrace as Tony murmured the words.
"Hey, do this for me. Let's make the most of the night, like we're gonna die young. Got it?" Tony asked, his voice oddly intense even over the volume of the music.
"You're here in my arms, aren't you?" Loki called back, and then they stumbled off the dance floor, further and further through the club until they burst out of a back door and into an alleyway. Loki protested as Tony led them to stand under the fire escape, quieting when Tony began dragging him up the steps he dragged down.
"My apartment is up here, dumbass. I suggest you follow, because I have lots of plans for you."
Glancing at the door to the club, Loki quickly makes the decision to eschew his responsibility to Thor and live a little. Perhaps he was looking for a bit of trouble; if so, Tony seemed as if he could be the very definition.
Tony was surprisingly nimble considering how much alcohol he'd consumed, though Loki had no problems climbing after him and up to the third story. The music of the club was muted in Tony's apartment, muffled further by thick carpeting that covered the entire space save for the kitchen.
Built in wall fixtures emitted a blue glow that diffused the darkness, but did not light the entire space. It was curious, though Loki was not given much time to admire the decorating before Tony tackled him onto the low bed that he hadn't noticed beforehand.
Loki's body was alight with urgency in the face of Tony's fervor, needy moans escaping his throat as he worked to divest Tony of his clothing. He was interrupted by Tony's mouth on his, fingers in his hair, the rough calluses of his palms scraping Loki's cheeks. The kiss was filthy and rough, bodies grinding together without rhythm in search of more. Kisses were pressed to Loki's forehead, cheeks, chin, surprisingly intimate. Instead of balking, Loki bared his neck and was rewarded when Tony sank his teeth in and rolled his hips just so. Keening, Loki's hand scrabbled at the leather of the other man's jacket, back arching at the pleasure-pain that nearly electrified his body.
Tony seemed content to continue teasing, licking each bite with a low hum while his hands stroked through Loki's hair. It was both too much and not enough, serving to drive Loki into a delirium he had rarely reached with other partners.
"Tony," Loki croaked, unable to muster the thought needed to form any other words.
His plea seemed to send Tony into a higher gear, and they could have set records on how quickly they stripped out of their clothing before tumbling back onto the bed. The sheets smelled clean, with a hint of the cologne that Tony must have worn when he wasn't picking up strangers in the nightclub under his apartment.
The slide of skin on skin was an unmitigated thrill, driving Loki's mind further and further away from coherency each time Tony rutted against his thigh. Any words they might have spoken were lost between their harsh panting and the rustle of the bedclothes as they writhed and wrestled for domination. When he finally managed to land on top, Loki was in awe of the man beneath him. Tony's body was all sinew, compact muscle accentuated by tanned skin and faint dustings of black hair on his arms and legs, with a darker thatch of hair trailing to his cock, which was resting hard against his stomach.
A stripe of white broke the smooth expanse of darker skin; a line of demarcation down the middle of Tony's chest. Placing a finger to the top of the scar, Loki reverently traced a path down the straight line, noting the hitch in the other man's breath. He found it mesmerizing, and repeated the action several more times until Tony grabbed his wrist, hips bucking up in a plaintive bid for more.
Tugging his hand out of Tony's grasp, Loki trailed his fingers down the scar once more, smirking when Tony mewled into his pillow, biting his lower lip in an attempt to stifle the sound. He continued downward, over Tony's chest, his stomach, and the vee that inevitably led to Tony's cock. The tips of his fingers skimmed over the head, his thumb pausing momentarily to swipe the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. With his index and thumb, Loki made a loose circle with his fingers and slid downward, a slow drag on sensitive skin that left the other man writhing underneath of him.
On Loki's second pass, Tony finally allowed himself a strangled cry, his voice hoarse as he growled, "I'm clean."
The statement was a positive one, but irrelevant.
With a sharp nod and a wicked grin, Loki slid down Tony's body, making sure to touch wherever he could before settling atop Tony's thighs. Swollen with arousal, Tony's cock was several shades darker than his skin tone. It occurred to Loki that he wanted very much to feel the burn of his muscles stretching to accommodate Tony's girth, sooner as opposed to later.
With little fanfare, Loki ducked his head and took Tony into his mouth, passing his tongue over the head to gather the pre-cum. It was salty-sweet on his tongue, not at all repulsive, which served Loki's interests as he tongued the slit, sucking slightly for more. Hands buried themselves in his hair, gripping tight in a way that made Loki's cock jump. His head was forced down as Tony bucked his hips, and Loki nearly spluttered from the poorly timed thrust. Gripping Tony's thighs in warning, he took a moment to grip the base of the other man's cock, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked. As he bobbed his head up and down, Loki's other hand slipped between Tony's legs, gently rolling his balls before pressing his finger against his perineum.
It had been a gamble, but Loki's efforts were rewarded when Tony arched off the bed with a breathy cry of "A-ah!"
A few more sucks and Tony was rolling him over, collapsing on top with more kisses and touching and wave after wave of overwhelming sensation. The press of a lube-slicked finger at his entrance left Loki wondering when Tony had taken the time to retrieve it, but all thoughts were erased as Tony pressed one finger inside while his other hand wrapped itself around Loki's cock. Tony stroked in time with the thrusts of his finger, which became two, and then three.
It seemed as if Tony reveled in torturing him, scissoring his fingers and then crooking them against his prostate. Over and over, driving Loki to the edge and then reeling him back to totter on the cusp of the abyss once more.
"Please, please, please," someone chanted. Loki eventually realized it was him, the world coming into focus with Tony's brown eyes locked on his.
"Please what?" Tony rasped.
"Fuck me!" Loki demanded, thumping his fists onto the mattress.
The predatory grin from the bar reappeared, too many white teeth contrasting against dark skin in a parody of an actual smile. To prove his point, Loki spread his legs, and was gratified when Tony fit himself atop Loki once more, their bodies sliding together naturally.
"Kiss me," Tony murmured, their foreheads pressed together. "Give me all you've got."
Tony entered him as their mouths met, swallowing Loki's whines as he pressed forward with shallow thrusts, which gradually became long strokes as they continued to kiss, tongues battling while Tony found his rhythm. There was far too much saliva for the kiss to be anything more than wet and filthy, which only fueled Loki's lust addled mind. As he'd imagined, his body's stretch around Tony's cock was a burn so exquisite, he almost didn't want it to end. Despite the preparation, there was still an underlying discomfort, though it had dissipated by the time that Tony slipped out and flipped Loki onto his stomach. Urged onto his hands and knees, Loki dropped to his elbows and moaned loudly as Tony pressed inside once more. The angle was different, more intense as Tony thrust deeper and deeper, thighs slapping obscenely as the he pounded into him.
Sex was never meant to be a quiet act for Loki, and it was gratifying that Tony felt the same way. Gasps and moans filled the otherwise silent apartment, punctuated by Tony's soft curses when Loki shifted backwards to take him deeper, and Loki's sharp cry of pain when Tony sank his teeth into the tender spots he'd bitten earlier. Nothing came close to the sounds Loki made when Tony's hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in tandem with his thrusts. The edge rapidly approached, and then he was tipping over and into the abyss. Overwhelmed, Loki's vision whited out and he was filled to the brim with sensation that was very nearly too much. He gradually became aware of Tony's stuttering rhythm, and the burning heat of his body along Loki's back. A hissed yesss was the only warning before Tony came inside of him, thrusting shallowly three more times before pulling out and leaving Loki feeling bereft.
Tony collapsed onto the mattress, pulling Loki down with him. Grumbling his displeasure, Loki allowed himself to be manhandled nonetheless. Callused, possessive hands splayed over his back, the rasp of a beard prickling against the sensitive skin of his neck where Tony's lips were pressed. The fact that the man was a stranger, who Loki had no business sleeping with, was inconsequential in the face of the mind blowing sex and their undeniable connection.
While he certainly didn't mind the contact, he did mind falling asleep with their cum dried between them. Rolling away was difficult in light of Tony's best efforts to keep him there, but a close-fisted thump to the man's shoulder had him whining and mumbling while Loki got off the bed to search for the restroom. Some fifteen minutes later, Loki returned with a wet wash cloth, which was mostly for Tony's benefit, as Loki had taken a brief shower, luxuriating in the sandalwood scent of Tony's shower gel.
"You smell like me," Tony murmured as Loki dragged the washcloth over his chest and over his stomach, dipping into the vee of his hips. "That's so fucking hot."
Loki smirked, dropping the wash cloth onto a nearby night stand (that was also home to a half empty bottle of lube), then dropped back onto the bed. It had occurred to him in the shower that he could leave then and there, and go back to his drunken lout of a brother, or he could luxuriate in the aftermath of good sex with no strings attached.
The bed was large enough that Loki could sleep without rolling onto the soiled comforter, though he had no desire to move away from the built-in furnace that Tony seemed to house underneath his skin. Tony's arms wrapped around him as soon as he settled, his voice thick with exhaustion.
"You're little spoon, Princess. Stick around for breakfast?"
"Only if I might have a repeat performance of this evening, as well as some tea with toast."
"You don't ask for much, do ya?"
"Not at all," Loki replied, smiling even as he allowed Tony to roll him and pull him against his chest.
Loki's night with Tony had been enjoyable, and regrettably singular. The morning after had been pleasant and punctuated by humor, sex in Tony's generously appointed shower, and the tea and toast he'd been promised. Their connection was easy and familiar, as if they'd known each other far longer than one night. Eventually, they had to part ways as Loki had a class to oversee, and Tony had to lounge in bed for the rest of the day.
They hadn't exchanged phone numbers or emails, only one last searing kiss before Loki walked out of Tony's apartment and out of his life, without looking back.
Six months saw Loki traveling to and from Asgard during the length of his mother's illness, his father's funeral, and Thor's wedding. He worked through his graduate degree program, eventually brought Fenrir back to the States, his night with Tony merely a pleasant memory. It wasn't until an envelope arrived by post that he was reminded of an incredible night with a complete stranger. The envelope itself was unremarkable, containing a newspaper clipping, and brief missive in an unrecognizable scrawl.
"Princess,
That was some night, right? I told you that we were gonna live that night like we were gonna die young. I'll be damned if I didn't do a good job of it. For the last person I shared a bed with, you were pretty fucking hot. Keeping wearing that vest for me and stay pretty.
-Tony"
Loki stared at the note, mystified as to why he would be receiving it six months later. Setting the note aside, Loki picked up the newspaper clipping and unfolded it to reveal a picture of Tony, wearing a suit and his predator's smile as he stared the camera down. The article appeared to be an obituary, though Loki's attention was drawn to the headline: Tony Stark, young CEO of Stark Industries, dead at 28.
''Anthony Edward Stark, young CEO of Stark Industries, passed away at the age of twenty eight years old last week...Stark struggled with a rare heart condition for the duration of his lifetime, undergoing a heart transplant as a teenager, and further surgery after his kidnapping five years prior. Complications began six months before Stark's death, where he retreated from the social scene...Before his death, Stark ensured the continued success of his company. As one of his last actions before his death, Stark appointed his former personal assistant Virginia Potts to the acting CEO of Stark Industries...she has promised to continue Stark's vision of innovations in energy and the medical field, and will not return to weapons development. Stark's legacy of technological innovation is reflected worldwide, and will continue to affect future generations to come."
Loki's fingers had a curious tremble as he set the clipping on his blotter, leaning forward with his shoulders slumped as he processed the information. He had slept with Tony Stark. The man who had spent the majority of his youth in the spotlight, whose actions Loki had scoffed at over the Atlantic, even as he had kept the pictures from smuggled teenage magazines to hide in his dorm room at boarding school. How had he not recognized him? Loki had sucked him off, let the man fuck him into the mattress. Loki had let Tony kiss him as if it were the last kiss he might ever have. Maybe it had been.
Leaning against the back of his chair, Loki tipped his head back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to slip into memory.
"Hey, do this for me. Let's make the most of the night, like we're gonna die young. Got it?" Tony asked, his voice sounding intensely odd, even over the volume of the music.
"Kiss me," Tony murmured, their foreheads pressed together. "Give me all you've got."
"You're little spoon, Princess. Stick around for breakfast?"
Loki had never regretted the night he spent with Tony. He had never regretted the strange and intoxicating intimacy he had shared with a complete stranger. He never regretted their parting ways in the morning. He only regretted the fact that Tony Stark had died far too young.
More A/N!: Firstly, let me shout out a HUGE thanks to my new beta BigTimeHiddlestoner! You're amazing.
I'm not normally a proponent of songfic, but I have been imagining this story for nearly a year. If you didn't realize/know already, this was based off of Kesha's "Die Young", which is a song that I am rather addicted to and have always associated with Tony/Loki. Go listen! Sneaky lyrics for the win!
Also, I'm sorry about Tony. Kind of. Not really.
Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!