Improbus: Latin; wicked, persistent, perverse.
Requested by Anon on Tumblr.
"What do you think, Captain?"
There is a chorus of rattling as Steve's wrists fight crude chains, "No."
A breezy chuckle follows, confident, and reverberating off the mossy stone walls of Loki's hideaway. Brows knitting behind his blindfold, the Captain tries to pinpoint its origin, twisting in his bonds. More stinging pain in his knees is his reward.
"'No'? Come now, Captain, where is that fearless arrogance? " the trickster's voice floats from his right, "The leader's instinct to protect? Surely you will consider my offer." Loki's tone is mocking, and Steve's skin prickles. Head falling forward, he scowls and tests the metal again.
Silence.
Fabric flutters somewhere a few feet away, followed by a taxed sigh, "Very well." The sharp clicking of boot heels startles the blond upright once more, tense and wary. The steps halt in front of him. Waiting for the inevitable, he says nothing.
Something sharp presses into the front of his suit. His stomach muscles twitch instinctively, and he sucks in a breath, but doesn't move. After a moment, it (the scepter, it has to be) drags slowly up his front, catching on the crest's ridges and seams, some of them popping loose in protest. Sliding over the neckline against his skin, the cool point comes to rest beneath his chin.
A simple sharp prod forces his face upwards, and Steve grits his teeth.
"I'm sure I can persuade you another way."
