Page 14, Thor Kink Meme, Round 14

Just something where Loki hasn't been touched affectionately in a long time and he's desperate for it, please. Maybe even a little half-crazy for it. I'd like to see someone satisfy his craving - someone who might not even like him all that much, but they feel reluctant pity for him. Also, I'd like him to be humiliated by his desperation for something he thinks he should be able to live without.

"Loki Needs a Hug"

This exercise in foolishness and humiliation began with that… incident on the flying ship.

Well, not quite. Loki had to confess – even to himself – that it would be unfair to place the entirety of the blame on Agent Coulson. He was merely the culmination of something which had been building for centuries.

And it was Thor's fault.

Not that his bro— Thor ever refrained from touching Loki. But it was only ever a slap on the back, or the rare – decades-long rare – brief embrace were they parted for any great length of time.

Their— Thor's parents differed, naturally. Odin showed very little affection, and offered even less in the way of loving touches. Frigga, by contrast, kissed and hugged enough to compensate for Odin's lack of such actions.

Loki had never taken any lovers. His preference for studying when not in training isolated him to a certain extent (not that he would ever be willing to admit it), and yet he had not wanted for opportunities to meet potential mates. As a prince of Asgard, he attended the most extravagant balls; as a shape-shifter, he associated with those he desired to know outside of the pomp and circumstance which came with being royalty.

It made no difference now that he was of another royal house. Not when it meant that he craved touch like a stray craves a scrap of meat.

"Why, hello," he purred, insinuating himself onto the barstool beside Agent Phil Coulson.

"Hello," Phil replied, sparing Loki a quick glance. "Buy you a drink?"

"That's terribly kind of you," Loki said, batting his eyelashes. He had studied mortal females in those moving pictures he had heard his minions discuss during the free time he had allowed them. "However can I repay you?"

"Well," Phil said, and he gave Loki a 'proper once-over' (to use Midgardian terminology), "you could buy the next round. Or," he swivelled around on the stool, "you could tell me what brings you to this bar, Loki."

The edge of the wooden bar nearly crumbled in Loki's hand.

"Loki?" he asked. It was embarrassing to hear the way his female voice cracked. He chose to lean against the bar on one elbow (every etiquette instructor he had known screaming in his head), and twirled his long blonde hair around one finger. "Who is Loki?" He giggled, bending closer to Phil. "Should I be jealous?"

Phil chuckled, and shook his head. "Okay. You buy the next round. This looks like it'll take awhile."

On that flying metal ship, Loki had been interrupted from killing his brother by the agent, who had walked up to him from behind, nearly getting a sceptre through the heart for his trouble. He'd cocked his head as he studied Loki.

"I considered two courses of action," the agent said. "Either I bring a really big gun out here, or we talk. You seem like the intellectual type, and don't think I haven't forgotten that you can multiply like a rabbit."

"A rabbit?" Loki asked, raising an eyebrow. The agent nodded.

"Cute little fluffy animals," he explained. "Cuddly, but don't ever tell anyone I used that word, or my reputation will be shot."

Loki's spine had stiffened at the word 'cuddly'. Nights in his mother's arms after having a childhood nightmare, manly hugs from Thor, that one embrace from his father on his coming-of-age celebration, interrupted by the umpteenth failed declaration of war from the elves.

Whatever minute movement he made, the man in the suit had nodded, and then begun to walk forward, hands at his sides. He didn't seem poised to attack. Loki didn't even think to stop him until they were less than an arm's length from each other.

"I've been wondering what your motivation is," the agent said. "There are so many possible reasons, I don't even know where to begin. Do you want to tell me the cause, or do I have to keep asking you questions until you tell me, Loki?"

"Perhaps you could answer one of mine first?" Loki said.

"Of course. Ask away."

"What is your name?"

"Phil Coulson. But you already know that, Loki."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. The archer told me quite a lot about you."

"I hope it was flattering."

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

Phil smiled. Loki didn't know what to do. It seemed like millennia since someone had last smiled, genuinely smiled, at him.

"What do you want?" Phil asked. "Truthfully. If there was one thing in the world – all of the worlds – that you wanted, that you thought you could never have, what would it be?"

"Power."

"You're lying. You already have more power than most of the people on the Helicarrier. Try again."

Loki didn't move while he considered the question. It was foolish. Somewhere in his subconscious, a voice was screaming that ignoring his surroundings in this manner was asking for misfortune to befall him. And yet he had never been asked this question, in so blunt a manner, and for so unfathomable a reason.

"I don't know," he said.

"Well," Phil said, and he reached out, allowing his hand to hover above Loki's right arm, "let me help you figure it out. In the meantime, less genocide, if you please."

All it took was one touch – intended merely to disarm Loki – and the god found himself overcome by something unnameable. That touch, even though it was only through clothing, felt warm and strong, and he threw himself into the mortal's arms. His sceptre fell the ground with a loud clatter like horse's hooves, and Loki felt only knee-high as he wrapped his arms around the agent's waist, breathing in his scent and his warmth.

"Please," he whispered.

"…Of course," Phil said, equally as soft. Loki breathed out in relief as arms pulled him close, and he tucked his face into the agent's neck.

It was a moment which lasted a lifetime. Yet barely a second passed before Loki tore himself away, horrified by his actions, cheeks burning with shame. He summoned the sceptre to his side and spun away, leaving the ship and its people behind.

When he was on solid ground once more, lost and confused, he broke the sceptre in half in a fit of petulance. A crushing headache nearly split his cranium in half as all of the magic was undone. He could hear Thanos roar, feel echoes of the Chitauris' fury.

But here he was safe. He still had his powers, and left the destroyed sceptre behind in a trail designed to confuse any potential pursuers, even ones as powerful as Thanos.

Now he was seated across a small, filthy (by his princely standards) table from Phil Coulson, wondering what in Odin's name had made him throw himself at the man, and wondering further why he was here now. These were questions his companion was now voicing.

"What's with the different form?" he asked.

"Why do you think I am this man named Loki?"

"I never mentioned that Loki was a man."

Loki gaped briefly, and then forced himself to speak. "I…"

"It's taken you three nights to come here. I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"What do you… You planned this?"

"Of course."

That phrase. 'Of course'. The last time someone said those words to him, Loki had received a hug.

From the man he was now, apparently, trying to seduce, if the slinky, low-cut dress Loki had chosen was anything to go by. He supposed he should feel shame over dressing like a harlot.

"I did not plan as well as you," he admitted.

"So you came here to…?" Loki couldn't answer. "Why did you hug me? On the Helicarrier?"

Loki's wrist was in Phil's grip before he could even rise from the wooden chair. "Unhand me."

"Surely you can pull away by yourself?"

"Not when I am in a weaker form," Loki said through clenched teeth. Phil arched an eyebrow, and Loki realised his mistake.

"Stay," Phil said. "I think we need to talk about what happened."

It all poured out. The years of neglect, of being lied to, of being too retiring to seek out any bed companions. Phil listened to it all, sipping his drink occasionally, eyes never moving from Loki's face. He wasn't used to such rapt attention being aimed solely at him, and found it disconcerting. Yet his words were drawn from him like a magnet, attaching themselves to the agent and refusing to be retracted before Loki even realised that he had spoken them.

"You're not the only person in the world who's felt like this," Phil said after Loki's voice had gone hoarse from the whispered confessions. "People – both adults and children – go through this all the time, without the wealth and security and magic at your disposal." Loki flinched, and looked down at his hands. "But… the feelings are the same. Different financial circumstances don't change them, and sometimes people forget that. You've felt this since you were a child, am I right?" Loki nodded slowly, still evading eye contact. "It's been building for a long time. Sure, not everyone is this spectacularly good at holding a grudge. But you've had these feelings longer than any mortal. The difference between the rich and the poor is that the poor can't always afford counselling. Maybe you should speak with someone about this?"

"What do you suppose I am doing at this moment?" Loki said, arching an eyebrow. Phil inclined his head, acknowledging this. "I do not wish to talk. I just want to be… touched. With affection. With…" he ducked his head again, "love. I know that none will ever love me; my childhood prepared me for that, and I believe my actions have cemented this. It does not change my feelings."

They remained silent a long awhile. Loki sighed when the agent stood, and then froze when a hand appeared in front of him.

"Come on," Phil said. "Let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Loki asked once they had left the public house. He expected Phil to withdraw his hand at any moment. Instead, he was led to the road, and the agent used his free hand to summon a yellow automobile. He sat beside Loki in the back, and spoke to the driver. They set off, and Loki looked around, taking in the brightly-coloured lights against the night sky as they sped past alongside other automobiles. Phil took his hand again.

"I don't know what you had in mind," he said, stroking the skin with his thumb. Loki shivered in the form which was not his own. "Where are you staying?"

"Any abode which has been abandoned."

"You've been squatting?"

"I generally sit, lie, or stand."

"No, it means… never mind. You can stay at my place for however long you need. Are you planning to go home?"

"What do you suppose?" Loki asked, glancing at him. "The punishments I may face there are gruesome by your society's standards. You have helped me to understand what I desire, and that is kindness. I would not receive it in Asgard. Perhaps I do not deserve it… but I cannot help what I crave, and some little amount of respite is desirable, before I must be thrown back to my homeland."

Phil squeezed Loki's hand. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, let me take you home."

He appeared to be asking permission; Loki nodded.

The agent asked permission again after Loki emerged from the bathroom to find that the only light left on was in the bedroom. He crept in and immediately noticed that Phil was in bed, the covers on one side drawn at an angle, reading a book and wearing spectacles.

"Don't expect anything much tonight," he said, not even glancing up from the tome on his lap. "Just get in bed. I've left a few books on the bedside table, and there's plenty of light from both lamps." Finally, he looked over the top of his glasses at Loki, who remained frozen in the doorway. "If it's too warm, don't worry about it. But you want touch, and you need somewhere to stay. Tell me what you want and don't want, and we'll work it out."

"Why are you doing this?" Loki asked as he inched forward, eventually climbing into the bed and sliding under the covers. He pulled them up and stared at Phil. "You do not like me."

"'Like' is too strong a word, I'll admit that. But you clearly need help, and my mother raised me right." He smirked ironically, and shrugged. "Do you want to read?"

"I have no interest in studying Midgardian texts."

"Fair enough." He slipped a marker into his book and placed it aside. "It's the button on the base of the lamp." Loki pressed it, and the light disappeared from the lantern. "That's right. The pyjamas fit okay? You're taller than me, and skinnier—"

"They are well," Loki said softly, burrowing down further. He was clothed, yet he felt naked under the eyes of the SHIELD agent sharing his bed. That thought made him blush.

"Good," Phil said. He then extinguished the light on his side of the bed, and lay down beside Loki. "Which way do you prefer to sleep?"

"I… often fall asleep while reading at my desk."

"How do you lie in bed?"

Loki frowned, giving this some thought. "Well, I suppose it is however I have fallen into bed at the end of the day. I only ever sleep on my back when I am ill or injured, and under a healer's care."

"Hmm." Apparently the agent's eyes had adjusted to the light just as quickly, and he reached out and pulled Loki into his side. Loki shivered from the contact, and wanted desperately to move closer, hook a leg over his bed partner, cling to him like moss to a stone.

"Hold me," he whispered.

An arm made its way under his torso and another around his waist, dragging him half onto Phil's body. He had no choice but to hold on, gasping as their bodies pressed together. He bent his head so that his nose was touching Phil's ear. The agent's head jerked away, and Loki attempted to pull back. He was swiftly halted.

"It's just been awhile," Phil murmured, pulling Loki back into place. "I'll get used to it."

They were both unused to sleeping with another, and shifted positions several times during the night, with much cursing on occasion. Loki kept trying to cling to Phil. In the end he settled with the shorter man's front pressed to his back, almost like he was keeping Loki safe, arms around him and bedclothes covering both. They awoke in that position, and Loki kept still as long as possible, not wanting this to go away.

When Phil eventually sighed and threw off the covers, Loki wanted to whimper and pull them back. He hated the cold all the more since discovering his true heritage, and being exposed to the morning air was unpleasant. More so when Phil began to swing his legs around, making to leave the bed. Loki virtually tackled him.

"Don't go," he said, staring down at the agent. He must have looked frightful, large eyes and wild hair. Phil took it in stride with a single arched eyebrow, and slid back so that his head was atop the pillows.

"I guess I can get in half an hour later," he said, and he tugged Loki back down. "Just this once."

Loki nodded, and sank back into the mattress. With a second thought, he summoned the blankets to cover them. Phil tensed, and then chuckled lightly.

"I… apologise, if I startled you," Loki said.

"Not a problem. A bit of warning in the future would be nice."

"I will bear that in mind."

Yet his painfully clear desperation for contact with another caused a tear of embarrassment to leave Loki's eye, and he sighed unhappily.

It was another five days before Loki felt comfortable allowing Phil to leave (their) the bed early. On the agent's day off, they slept in for an hour past the usual time.

Another week after that passed before Loki found out that Phil had not told his organisation about their living arrangement.

Another three weeks passed before Phil was evidently comfortable with alerting the one-eyed man, who visited to interrogate Loki. Phil did not help him; yet his presence was reassuring, and in the end Loki was permitted to stay, with the secret kept between them.

Two months passed before Loki decided that he wished to do more than sleep in the agent's bed. He presented himself as a woman again, several different women, to ascertain which form would be most pleasing to his bed-mate. When nothing appeared to stir his emotions, Loki gave up.

It was at the end of his five-month stay when Phil's first action upon waking was to lean over and kiss Loki, on the lips. The god gave him no time to second-guess, and pounced on him. It was a very satisfactory morning, and Phil was two hours late leaving by the time he had torn himself away from the bed, away from the (shared) shower, and from the breakfast table (which they had made good use of, leaving Loki pleasantly sore).

Some weeks later, a few days after Loki said those three words he had longed to hear from another, he was taken to the Avengers Mansion and offered a position. He kept well away from Thor, instead pressing into Phil's side. But he agreed to a trial period.

His reward was to hear those same three words from Phil that very night.

This wasn't meant to turn into romance, was it? No, indeed.

So this was another kink meme prompt, because I love pairing Phil and Loki. Hope you liked it, and didn't find it too saccharine. I think it felt a bit rushed at the end, but I didn't want to get repetitive. Sigh. The struggles of being a writer. Or something.