The tickle of sunlight through blinds was something Loki never felt after a visit to Stark Tower because, well, he was usually gone before dawn. Once the afterglow had settled, he would wait until his companion's eyes closed and without a sound he was gone. Even he wasn't sure why he stayed this time. Laziness was uncharacteristic of the god, and yet there was something nice about feeling his heart calm in his chest and the sweat cooling on his skin.
More orange creeped in. They'd gone later, longer, likely because he had disintegrated the glass of whiskey right out of Starks hand before sliding into his lap. Maybe that's why the billionaire wasn't snoring yet too.
With caution, Loki cut his eyes sideways. Yes. Still awake. Well. At least he wasn't talking. A sigh, and he allowed his eyes to close. The body beside him stretched just in time, letting out a satisfied moan.
It would be easy for Tony Stark fall asleep after that (where did Loki get so much energy? Oh, right, alien god thing), but he could do that any night. Loki was still there, and that was rare. Plus, there was something funny about a god pretending to be asleep.
Without sparing another moment, Tony rolled closer and purposely put a leg over the pale ones. To avoid scaring him off, he gently dragged the back of his fingers over Loki's chest.
"Oats?" he asked through a stifled yawn.
Loki took in a sigh through his nose Tony recognized as wretched mortal, go to sleep. He turned slightly with one eyebrow raised.
"Oats. You said you wash your hair with haver, right? That's oats," Tony repeated, unable to hide the yawn this time, and flattening his hand against Loki's chest for a moment.
Loki's stare was level now. "What of it," he shifted back to gaze at the ceiling, eyes rolling a little.
"Whoa, Shysmith, just a question." Tony used his leg to pull Loki closer with a smirk. "I'm not making fun of you, it's just—you know, now that I think of it, Pepper had an oatmeal bodywash once so maybe it's a thing."
Loki almost groaned and neither resisted nor accepted the pull. On any other night he would purse his lips and move away, but he looked at the ceiling for a moment before blinking slowly.
"Berries and fruits are the tradition." There was a detectable sneer to that before his expression relaxed. "But haver, your oats, is nutitrious and plentiful. Grass and milk provide vitamins." He shifted his legs slightly under Stark's and leaned his head forward a moment to allow his neck to crack. He wasn't going to question Tony's weird interest in cleansing mixtures, but there was something that made his eyes unfocus in thought.
"Vitamins are important for a prince who wears horns all day, I'm sure," Tony agreed, unashamedly watching his catch. Always a good idea to be on guard, especially when treading delicate subjects intentionally while delicate bits are exposed.
Still. He couldn't help it. "Hard bedding a god with such a glorious past. A lot of pressure on a mortal. Gives me anxiety," he hung on the last words like he wanted to laugh, but held it together. Best to distract when being a dick, he'd learned, and so he scratched lightly over a flat nipple and rolled his hips forward.
Loki almost didn't hear the comment about his helmet, still staring up, thinking, eyebrows knitting together briefly. Blinking, he barely looked over and swallowed. He quickly put his mask back on, eyes back to being their petulant slack.
"You were without your precious whiskey for once," was his response, and Tony snorfled. There was a lingering in his tone that almost questioned Tony's words. Glorious past. Before he could worry over that any longer, he responded to the clever distraction by pressing his lips together and shifting his legs again, stretching his ankles to counter the shiver that almost made it up his spine.
Clever as it was, the distraction only worked for a moment. "Glorious past," he repeated, almost a question. A contemplative moment. "How detailed is my file?" Loki was good at veiling his actual concern in his voice, but he did look at Tony when he asked, green eyes focused.
"And now he plays modesty," Tony mused, smirking as he traced a lovely bruise forming on the pale throat. It would be gone too quickly, damn alien gods, but for now it was his.
"You know I don't read official documents," he chided, glancing up at the fierce eyes boring into him. Touchy guy. "Your glorious purpose is well-received, though, so don't sweat it."
"Hm," Loki hummed thoughtfully, eyes lowering and softening. Glorious past probably didn't mean what he thought it meant—how could they know? That was over a millennium ago, and though the mortals at the time sought to preserve stories of great battles and love affairs, that was private. Only family knew—
Nevermind. Tony's answer did offer the sorcerer some relief at least, and he seemed to relax, shifting closer and stretching his neck, like he was showing off the love mark.
"Good," he drawled.
"Good," Tony agreed, both at the end to the questioning and mostly to the little ways that the god played submissive. The little arches, the slight rolls. Subtle little things of beauty. He knew how to make an Iron Man feel.
Maybe next time he'd bring up horses and hope he didn't get thrown out a window.