A/N: Umm...I really have no excuse for this.
"Anthony Stark, you are absolutely canine! Get off of me!" Loki croaked, pushing the other man away from him. He, Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief, lies, and fire, had somehow managed to contract the common Midgardian cold and he felt like Hel. The god did not understand how the mortals withstood it; his head and body ached, his internal thermometer kept rotating between hot and cold so that he was either kicking the blankets off or pulling them up to his chin, his nose was running like a faucet which meant a small mountain of used tissues was growing on the side table, he was sneezing constantly, and, to top it all off, he could only breath through one nostril. Yet despite all of these factors that made him feel less than desirable and downright disgusting, Anthony was still trying to paw at him like a horny teenager.
"I'm only trying to make you feel better, sweetcheeks," Tony whined, sitting back on his heels. He was now actively pouting; the Man of Iron, the former Merchant of Death, the man who had single handedly blown up his army, had his bottom lip jutted out and his arms crossed over his chest.
"If you truly wish to make me feel better, Anthony, then go get me something for this headache and leave me be," Loki grumbled, rolling onto his side and pulling the covers up to his ears as another flash of cold washed over him.
He listened as Anthony swore at him under his breath before standing and shuffling into the adjoining bathroom. Loki heard the medicine cabinet open and the rattle of pills in a bottle before the faucet sounded. The Man of Iron returned to his side moments later, handing him the medication and water. Accepting them gratefully, the god sat up slightly. Once the pills were in his system, he collapsed back onto his pillows and bunkered down for a nap.
Behind him, the bed dipped with Anthony's weight and a strong arm curled around his waist. Humming in discontent, Loki attempted to squirm away, but gave up when the other man held him closer.
"You're going to catch my illness, Stark," he mumbled into the pillowcase.
He heard Anthony scoff, but nothing more was said. And before he even realized it, Loki was drifting to a dreamless sleep. He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious for before he woke with a start, but it felt like milliseconds. At first, his sleep-fogged brain couldn't comprehend just why he had woken so suddenly, until he looked down to find that Stark had made himself comfortable between his legs. The man was looking up at him with innocent brown eyes that quickly turned devious as he drew the flat of his tongue over the sensitive head of his already half-hard cock.
"Anthony," Loki huffed, moving his hands to push meekly at his lover's shoulders. "I do not have the energy for this sort of play."
Stark pulled away only to press a kiss to Loki's hipbone, sucking until he left a purple hickey behind. "Then just lay back and let me do all the work." His voice was low and rough, and in his weakened state, there was no way Loki could say no.
"Very well," he relented, repositioned himself so that his legs were spread just a little wider. Stretching his arms over his head, Loki let them relax there and looked down at Stark with half-lidded eyes and a smirk that was tired but sexy at the same time. Just because he was sure he looked like Hel didn't mean that he couldn't put on a bit of a show for his lover.
Anthony returned the smirk and kissed his way down to the insides of Loki's thighs, giving both equal attention with soft bites and kisses, sucking hickies into their sensitive flesh. It had the god breathing out shakily, his green eyes falling shut. Stark knew all the right ways to use that sharp tongue of his, Loki mused as it darted out to draw quickly over the bruises he had left on the pale skin.
A soft mewling sound slipped passed the liesmith's lips as his lover's teeth skimmed the dip where thigh met body at the top of his leg. He could only assume that the man had heard the noise, because a moment later those teeth embedded themselves in the sensitive flesh and Loki's hips jumped up without his consent, dragging a gasp into his lungs. Now, as that sharp tongue moved back down, further still until it was teasing along the rim of his hole and he couldn't help but think briefly how unsanitary that was until a spasm of pleasure shut that thought right up, Loki's breath was coming just a little bit faster, burning his raw throat.
A quiet snick caught his attention when the mortal pulled his mouth away, and before he had the chance to inquire its origin, a cool, slick finger pushed into his heat and the god gasped, arching his back at the unexpected penetration. Anthony began to pump his digit slowly in and out of him before adding a second. Loki knew that the purpose of this exercise was not to stretch and prepare him for his cock, it was for the sensation of being filled and—oh. That, too. The silvertongue moaned when the pads of Stark's fingers began to massage his prostate firmly.
The former playboy kept it up until Loki was sure he was about to hit his climax. But just before his release, the Man of Iron ceased the movement and removed his fingers, drawing from the god a displeased groan and a few curses in Norse, as if he had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, how to speak English. The tiny kisses that Stark peppered over his abdomen and hips succeeded in calming Loki enough to bring him down from his near orgasmic state. He drew in a deep breath to steady his lungs and racing heart.
Just as he felt himself relax a bit and come away from that too-sensitive edge, Loki felt Anthony's lips against his head and swallowed thickly. Soon lips gave way to tongue and he heard the man groan quietly, he knew he could taste his arousal where his seed was beginning to bead at the tip of his length. The god tried to quell the moan that escaped him when the other man licked a swath from base to tip before actually taking him into his mouth.
And that tongue! What was Loki supposed to do but moan and writhe on the mattress when Anthony used his tongue like that? It should have been illegal, what the man was doing. Loki had no doubt in his mind that his lover could tie a cherry stem in his mouth, the way he was able to use that muscle.
The trickster shuddered when his partner gave a hard suck, the flat of his tongue rubbing against the underside of his shaft. He couldn't help but moan wantonly, one of his hands moving down to grasp a fistful of brunette hair.
"Anthony…" he managed to choke out. "Oh spirits, Tony!"
He panted roughly, back arching, head lolling from side to side on the pillow. His mouth dropped open and now quiet moans and mewls dripped from his lips. The god could tell his release was close, his body trembling slightly. And when Stark slowed the bobbing of his head, sucking loving on his head, Loki tugged roughly on his hair, willing him to continue. He rolled his hips up in an experiment, to see if perhaps that tactic might work better, and looked down at his lover. He was met with chocolate eyes that were anything but innocent and before he had time to comment, Stark was taking him back into his mouth, sucking hard before he began to bob his head quickly.
Caught off guard, Loki threw his head back, arching his spine, and moaned unashamedly, sure that the other residents of StarkTower must have heard him. His grip on Iron Man's hair must have been painful, but he didn't ease up, his knuckles white.
"Gods…" Loki keened, his hips moving up to meet Anthony's mouth as it came down. "I…Almost…"
The god both heard and felt the man moan before he picked up his pace, tongue working greedily over his cock. One last good suck had Loki careening over the edge and he came, his orgasm rocking his body quite literally. His face screwed up as the pleasure assaulting his sense. As he rode it out, he let his muscles go limp before finally opening his eyes. The first thing he saw was Anthony's dazed face and the way his seed was dribbling down his scruffy chin as he swallowed, the sight making him whimper. Then his partner's face broke out into a wide grin that made Loki roll his eyes.
Shaking his head, the liesmith pulled Stark up by his hair and kissed him squarely on the mouth. After a moment, he let his tongue slip past the barrier of the other man's lips and groaned when he tasted a trace of his own semen in his lover's mouth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the god thought, 'I shouldn't have done that; he's going to catch my illness.'
After a moment, Stark pulled away with a grin.
"Feeling any better, frosty?" he breathed, kissing the side of Loki's neck.
"No," Loki mumbled, his eyes closing. "But now I'm exhausted. I told you I didn't have the energy for that sort of play," he chided, carding his fingers through Anthony's hair.
"I tired you out and now you can sleep," the man quipped, grinning wolfishly.
The god rolled his eyes and reached down, palming the obvious erection that was pressed against his thigh. "And what about you?" he asked pointedly, his voice heated.
"Don't worry about me. You should sleep," was the strained reply, and Stark maneuvered them so that he was spooning the god, stroking a hand down his side.
Suddenly, Loki realized just how heavy his eyelids were and let them fall shut. He was just about to drop off to sleep when a question popped into his mind.
"Why is it called a 'blow job' when you're actually sucking me off?" he mumbled drowsily. He wasn't awake for long enough to hear the answer.
—
A week later, Stark was sick in bed and Loki could only smirk and say I told you so.