The music wasn't at all what Tony would have chosen, had he even had the chance. It was too light, too easily ignored and forgotten, beautiful though it was. Tony took a sip of the champagne he was holding, casting his eyes around the room and nodding as Chief Fury carried on with – well, whatever it was he was saying. He wanted something loud, something powerful, where the beat would thrum along his skin and under it.
His fingers twitched compulsively on his glass when the stranger smirked at him. Chief Fury was still talking, apparently unaware that Tony's attention was elsewhere and Tony hoped he wouldn't ask a question, because he was not prepared to answer anything.
This whole ridiculous thing was a fundraiser for the ever-dwindling police force in this piece of shit city and Tony had supervised at least the guest list himself, but he didn't recognise the man he was staring at now; though it wasn't unusual for him to forget people – there were so many of them, after all – he doubted he would forget someone who looked like him.
He was taller than Tony, but then so was everyone, and he was lean and ever so striking in a plain black suit, a splash of colour in the green scarf that hung around his neck. He was pale as ice and exuded confidence, if not in the same way as Tony did. Tony knew he could be considered brash at times. This man was aloof, like an old god.
Tony excused himself, interrupting Fury's spiel and ignoring the way he rolled his eyes, making his way through the crowds to the man, who stood alone. The man regarded him seriously.
"You must be Anthony Stark," he said. The clipped vowels of his accent only made him more attractive, Tony thought. He tried his best grin, the one that never failed. The man didn't smile back.
"Call me Tony."
The man said nothing, but looked on, expectant. Tony shifted from foot to foot, feeling almost pinned by that stare.
"What's your name?" Tony asked, after he felt the silence had gone on too long. "I've never seen you at one of these things before."
"No, you wouldn't have."
Tony frowned at the ignored question. "I know everyone on the guest list personally," he said instead. It came out a little petulant and Tony felt a flicker of regret, but ignored it.
The man reached out and curled cool fingers around Tony's wrist, brushing over his pulse point. "I never come where I am not invited, Anthony," he said and glanced up into Tony's eyes with the hint of a smirk about his mouth. "As it is, I was searching for a friend. It would seem he was not invited either."
"Should I know him?"
The man didn't laugh, but Tony was sure he saw amusement sparkle in his green eyes. "Evidently not."
Silence fell between them again, a little less uncomfortable this time, and Tony could hear the subtle current of music between the chatter of guests. The man still held his wrist and Tony swallowed, not sure where he wanted to look – chest, shoulders, jaw; he settled on those deep green eyes and felt a flicker of arousal. This was the music that made his blood sing.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.
The man's gaze narrowed in on Tony's face and he frowned. "No," he said, then added, "Not tonight."
Tony shifted. Disappointment flared in his gut but there was no use in it. He'd said no. The man's fingers tightened and Tony looked up again. "I said not tonight," the man repeated. "I would likely be more amenable another time." His thumb swiped over Tony's wrist; it was almost a caress.
"Alright," Tony said, nodding even as he felt his heart rate pick up. A night with this man, even at some indeterminable point in the future, was sure to be a good one. "Good."
"Good," the man repeated, heat in his smile. "I, unfortunately, must take my leave now. Until next time, Anthony Stark."
"Uh- Bye," Tony said; but the stranger had already turned and was slipping out of the door. No one else so much as glanced in his direction. Tony couldn't stop staring.
Outside, Loki took a deep breath of the crisp night air and scowled. He couldn't afford to think of anyone else right now, especially not someone like Stark. That was a dangerous road to go down.
He walked away from the building and didn't bother to hail a cab; he wasn't staying far away. A smirk appeared on his face even before the thought had fully manifested: he did always like a bit of danger.
Not at this moment though. He already had a task – and he would find his lost little hawk, even if it was the last thing he did.