Tony is going to wipe that smile off his face. Or, more precisely, he's going to smear it off against his lips and cock, and watch it flutter and jerk as he drives something big, something honest and open, into its place.
Because Loki's been smiling at him all day, and Tony can't take it anymore. Sure, it hasn't been anything direct. Loki can only communicate with anyone through security footage, so it's hardly private. But it's certainly no less targeted. Tony can tell the smile's for him by the way Loki leans against the side of his cell closest to Tony's workshop. He can tell by the way Loki runs his hands down the tops of his thighs, not looking at any of the security cameras, and the way Loki idly taps his fingers at the center of his chest, right where Tony's arc reactor would be. It doesn't matter that Tony can't see the smile on his mouth—Loki wears a thick metal muzzle anytime he isn't eating, as if Fury really thinks he's a wizard or some such who needs incantations to make his spells work. Tony sees the smile in the rise of Loki's cheekbones, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't even bother to wonder when he learned to look so close.
By this time, it's easy to slip into Loki's cell. Loki's only staying because he wants to, and it amuses Tony that the others think they can pit their technology against his magic and win. It's not that Tony's given up on science, but you can only manipulate what you understand, and he's a long, long way from understanding Loki's magic.
And though Tony might not know magic, he certainly knows tech, so he's not worried about being caught on tape when he picks Loki up off the floor and shoves him back against the wall, attacking what he can of his neck with little nips. "Fucking tease," he grits out as his goatee scrapes against the underside of Loki's jaw.
He feels hands coming to rest lightly at his hips as Loki presses into him. Tony reaches down, holding the other against the wall with weight alone, and draws his hands over his head, stretching Loki out. There's a small sound from behind the muzzle and Tony grins, wide and reckless. If Loki gets to torture him over video all day, he gets to torture him now. It's revenge, and it will be release, and Tony doesn't even hate him for making him come back every few days, almost regularly, for more of this.
Transferring most of his weight to the hand holding Loki's wrists, Tony pulls back, planting kisses and licks along the lower edge of the muzzle. He feels Loki tense under him, straining against his hold. He feels the hot pants of breath against his hair. Tony answers by tonguing under the edge of the muzzle and soothing along the indents it leaves on Loki's skin. The breath above him shudders as he moves along Loki's jawline and up to suck at one of his earlobes.
Loki moans, long and deep and needing. "You want your mouth?" Tony taunts. He nips at the shell of Loki's ear in staccato punctuation. No response save another shudder. With his free hand, Tony reaches down to palm at Loki's groin, hard and constant pressure. Loki looks like he's collapsing as he ruts up against Tony's hand. His eyes are wide and pleading.
It's getting hard to hold him in place—the bastard has a head and a half on Tony and he's starting to writhe—so Tony reaches up to tug at the straps holding the muzzle in place. Loki goes a little limp at the loss of contact against his erection, so Tony nips at his neck again as he works.
"I want to hear you come apart," he murmurs as the first of the straps comes free. "I want to watch you scream."
The gag drops to the floor between them and Tony's hands go to smooth its imprints on Loki's cheeks and jaw. The kiss is heat and roughness; chapped lips skating across goatee and raw skin smoothed against desperate teeth and tongues. Loki has them pressed together, body to body, length to length, and it's all warm friction except where Tony's arc reactor slips against Loki's armor through his shirt.
"Get rid of it," Tony growls, tugging at a buckle across Loki's chest. Loki takes his time about complying, smirking into their kisses and dragging his hands through Tony's hair as if to prove he can use them. Tony ruts against his pelvis, insistent, and Loki laughs as he dips down Tony's neck and his long, pale fingers turn to his armor.
It comes off impressively quickly, just Loki in his leather pants and boots, the latter of which he kicks off somehow without moving back. Tony's still clothed, and Loki arcs above him, sucking hard on his tongue as he starts to open Tony's shirt. Tony's never been a fan of button-down anything, but he's found recently that a shirt you can open without moving your head has its uses. Like this, and he lets himself sigh into Loki's mouth as the god's fingers dig into the backs of his shoulders before running like dripping ice over his chest, his stomach. It's cold and shocking and good, and Tony throws his head back to just enjoy it.
But then Loki's fingers are ghosting at the waistband of his jeans, and Tony has other plans for that, so he grabs Loki's wrists again and folds them behind his back. The god grunts a little, a grimace slashing across his mouth. But he reaches for Tony's proffered kiss and bends easily when Tony tugs down on his wrists, until he is kneeling awkwardly, still almost pressed against the wall.
Tony gets the button for him but Loki handles the zipper, taking it between his teeth and tugging harshly. He noses through the front of Tony's boxers before he can get them undone, and it's a battle between Loki's face and Tony's hand and Loki's not playing fair by sucking lightly right under the head. Finally, the button pops free and Tony groans as he watches himself disappear into the mouth of the god below him. He feels a tongue, and pressure, and the tickle of the back of Loki's throat, and then it's all too much sensation and warm mouth and cool air as Loki bobs his neck. Tony feels his hips jerking forward to drive into Loki; he loses his grip on the other man's arms so he can clutch desperately at his hair, holding him there so Tony can fuck him fast and deep.
Loki's hands come out from behind his back to clench around Tony's hips, fingers splayed across his ass, tugging him closer, needing, wanting. Before his instincts can convince him to keep thrusting until he cums long and hard in Loki's mouth, Tony hauls the god up by the hair and kisses him again. Loki tastes of sweat and ice and Tony, and Tony licks his taste off the god's tongue as he fumbles inelegantly at Loki's leather pants. Somehow, he manages to slip them over Loki's hips without undoing anything, and quickly reaches down to tug at Loki's cock once, twice, before breaking the kiss to suck three of Loki's fingers into his mouth.
Tony watches Loki watch him as he rolls his tongue over Loki's digits. There's something tight and contained about Loki's expression, something almost pinched. Whatever it is dissolves away as Tony draws back, giving Loki enough space to begin working at himself. Tony watches all the muscles in Loki's face go slack as he enters himself; Tony sucks at his hanging bottom lip, breathing in Loki's shallow, rasping gasps. He reaches out to grab Tony's shoulder as he ads a second finger, and a third.
Tony laps up Loki's keening whine as he begins to fuck himself slowly. His arms twitch as he scissors his fingers inside himself and he breathes another moan into Tony's mouth.
Tony's hand is between his legs as he yanks off his boxers and fists his cock and Loki's and pumps them together, shaft to shaft, head to head. It's hard; he has to stand on tiptoe to be level with Loki, even as the god sinks down onto his own fingers. They sway like that for a moment, rocking against each other in an X-rated parody of a slow song at a middle school dance, but there is nothing innocent here, nothing awkward. Just skin and breath and fuck.
Loki's moans are picking up in pitch and frequency and Tony hasn't been able to feel himself breathing for a long time. He lays his forehead on Loki's shoulder, breathing against his chest, as he pulls Loki's fingers out and drops their cocks.
There's a moment of silence, just breath and sweat.
Tony's hand creeps slowly down Loki's ass and along his thigh. Loki lifts his leg obediently and hitches it around Tony's waist. Tony spits on his hand to lube up again, drawing back for a quick check on Loki's face. The god's eyes are wide and a splotchy flush colors his cheeks. The incline of his head and the peek of a tongue between his lips tell Tony he's ready.
Everything happens at once. Tony hitches Loki onto his hips, pressing him up against the wall and easing himself in. Loki chokes on a scream and claws at Tony's shoulders, biting roughly at his mouth. Tony waits a moment—though it's killing him, feeling Loki clench around him and staying still—until Loki's wriggled into a better position and braced himself against the wall. Then Tony starts, moving slowly but snapping his hips at the end of each thrust so the god in his arms whimpers in rhythm with him.
"Tony," Loki breathes, almost stuttering. "T-Tony."
"Loki," Tony answers, voice gruff, as his partner leans desperately forward to nibble on the shell of his ear. Tony growls in appreciation, feeling every nerve in his body stretched tight and singing, and he shakes Loki off because it's almost too much and instead sucks at Loki's collarbone and leans forward so the god's cock is caught between their two bodies, sliding against sweat-slicked skin.
He feels Loki tense, a tall knot of pleasure kept at bay, curled around Tony. He hitches the god up higher on his hips, driving in deeper and running his teeth up the column of Loki's neck.
Loki shouts as he comes, voice beautifully ragged, like the tattered edges of velvet. His body pulses around Tony's and against it. He drops to pant at Tony's neck, breath cool on heated flesh, and whispers Tony's name, lips barely brushing his collarbone.
It's enough. It's too much. Some sort of noise rips itself from Tony's gut as he drives hard against and into Loki, squeezing his eyes shut and his mouth open, feeling like the god is sucking out everything he is.
After a few moments, Tony realizes he has stopped moving. He slides out, kissing away Loki's mew of protest, and presses all of himself against the god. His hands idly stroke along Loki's sides, gentle, not quite holding. For his part, Loki leans back against the wall, arms draped loosely on Tony's shoulders. He doesn't move as Tony stoops and hauls the leather pants back over his hips, then slips the arms of his tunic over his shoulders and starts doing up the buckles. Loki lets Tony dress him and watches as Tony dresses himself. He only moves to steal a kiss when Tony reaches up to refasten the muzzle. As Tony does up the buckles, he can tell that Loki is smiling.