Title: Blank
Author: DJ Liopleurodon
Warnings: Mature themes, graphic language, mind control and non-con
Characters / Pairings: Clint/Loki
Rating: M
Genre / Category: Angst/Romance
Published: 7-17-12 revised and reposted 8-22-12
Disclaimer: I think its stupid that we have to say it at this point, but I claim no-ownership-of-these-characters-Hail-Marvel."
Summary: Loki makes use of more than Clint's military expertise
Special thanks to my awesome betas - first version: C0mdLicAt3p
8/22 revision: Ivory Winter, The Scratch Man and NowAskYourself-WhatWouldLokiDo
"I need a distraction...and an eyeball," I said, snapping my bow open.
"Excellent. Excellent," Loki beamed. "You have arranged all this in so little time. I surmise you have a scheme for this as well?" he said, gesturing grandly at the activity all around us. Sparks and the sharp smell of overheating electronics filled the dank air of the abandoned bunker.
As my body began to explain my efficient plan to the demented god, I watched through a blue haze. Imprisoned within my mind mute and paralyzed, my muscles and joints ached with fatigue. I was left enraged and helpless to stop my physical body and my lips from betraying me.
The plan I described bore my distinctive signature; precision. However, this was far more ruthlessness, far more like one of Natasha's clever, deadly assaults than one of mine. I generally opted for subtly as an opening gambit.,
Half-way through my recounting he beckoned for me to walk with him, his arm companionably across my shoulders. I allowed him to lead me to a secluded corridor. In such close proximity to Loki, the skin-crawling outrage nearly choked me.
We stopped as I concluded the next part of plan: Loki allowing SHIELD and Stark and whoever else Fury had scrambled to take him into custody. Which, if latest intel proved true, would put this powerful psychopath on board the Helicarrier with almost everyone in the world who mattered to me. Natasha, my partner and lover, trapped in the flying fortress as Loki and the strike team of mercenaries and criminals I assembled brought it down.
I refused to think about how I would execute most of it - my body, my skill, my intelligence and training, but not me. I had exhausted myself at first, testing the boundaries of his control. While powerful, it was not absolute at first. His will compelled me to execute his commands; but I could interpret them literally. When he ordered me to "drop" Director Fury, I understood the implicit - 'kill him'. At such close range, I would never miss a head shot, but instead, I put a bullet in the densest part of Fury's flack vest to ensure that he would lay stunned long enough for us to leave, but not long enough for the collapsing ceiling to bury him.
After that act of defiance, Loki's grip tightened like a collar around my throat. As we from raced through the collapsing tunnel, I wondered if sparing Director Fury was the last conscious act of my life.
Loki's touch recalled my attention as hereached out and took the bow from my hand. I relinquished it to him without hesitation. He closed it and set it aside. I swallowed back a rise of bile as I realized by his appraising eyes that my bow wasn't all he would be touching.
His smirk spread into a grin, full of malevolence and teeth. His red tongue stroked his lower lip as he stepped closer, considering me with those cold eyes. "Now, now, Agent Barton," he purred, his unusual diction more even cloying, "I am your king now. You shall have no reserves from me. Your exemplary work must be rewarded." He placed his hand on my chest and pushed me back against the cold tiled wall. He moved his leather armor aside.
I punched him in the goddamn face. I kicked at his groin and I sought the knife concealed at my back. My bow was in my hand as I snapped it open, the limbs lashing out and sending him reeling. I swept his feet out from under him, garroting him with the bow string as he fell, its high draw weight hardly yielding against his throat. I saw a hundred ways to best him. Yet, my body remained wholly unmoving; muscles straining against themselves.
He seemed to hear my silent roar of "Don't fucking touch me!" His smile grew wider as he considered how best to punish me even as I stood pliant and still. His unsettlingly slim hands drew away from his armor and settled on either side of my neck.
"Kiss me. Kiss me like you kiss that flame haired wench I see plastered everywhere in your brain...What is her name again?" he taunted. "What is it you call her?"
He knew damn well what I called her.
"Tasha," I croaked.
"Yes. Tasha," he repeated mockingly. "Pretend I'm your Tasha."
His lips against mine brought a fresh wave of nausea, cramping my stomach. I hadn't eaten since the day before yesterday when the Dark Energy Research Facility caved into the desert. Maybe starvation would weaken my ability to resist his control? Considering my capacity to do so was pretty fucking feeble already, I wondered why he risked me - the man he relied on to lead his forces - collapsing from inanition. My SHIELD and military training had taught me to go for days without food or sleep, but still I ached.
Loki invaded my mouth with his tongue. My mouth responded as he commanded, but I held back what I could. This wasn't how I kissed Natasha. Lips, tongue and jaw might move in a similar fashion, but Loki could only command actions and the outward appearance of emotions. I moved mechanically, giving him none of the worshipful attention I showed her.
He caressed the back of my neck and I didn't bother to repress the mental shudder that I knew my body wouldn't show. His face loomed before me, electric blue flames arcing in the periphery of my vision.
"Kneel, Agent Bar...Clint, kneel before me and accept your reward."
He freed himself, semi-erect, from his armor. My knees struck the cold floor. Utterly drained, I didn't, and couldn't, fight him. I knew it was futile, and I wanted to reserve what I could for a fight that I could hope to win.
He cupped my face and placed his thumb beneath my eye. "What would you be with just one eye?" He increased the pressure. My eyes were everything to my craft. I would sooner lose my life than my sight. "I could put out your eye. Just. Like. That."
I felt him push into my mind, compelling me to say submissively, "Whatever you wish, sir - my king. I am yours to command, yours to do with as you please."
Loki laughed, drawing his thumb away to stroke my face.
"Have you ever had a man in your mouth before?" He arched an eyebrow as he worked himself lightly with his hand. His display of control over me had increased his arousal.
"No."
"No, what?" he said coldly.
"Sir. No, sir," I lowered my eyes respectfully, my cheeks burning with shame. Loki stroked the reddened skin, my beard stubble scratching against his fingers.
He lowered his voice seductively, disgustingly, "Do you enjoy this when your Tasha does it to you?"
Another jolt of rage coursed through me. Instead, I heard my voice rasp, "Yes, sir."
"Do what she does," he whispered.
He placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me to him. He loomed over me. I exhaled and I opened my mouth to admit him. A shudder ran through him and he buttressed himself on the wall over my head. Saliva pooled sickeningly in my mouth as my body fought the urge to retch.
I began to move as he thrust into my mouth, my lips and tongue caressing him while every fiber of my remaining self screamed to bite him. I purred deep in the back of my throat the way Tasha did. Loki groaned, sinuously rolling his hips. He braced one hand against the wall, and the other on the back of my head, grinding into me.
I imagined what Tasha would do to me if I wound my fist in her hair and directed her like this. That thought briefly pulled me out of the present horror. While Loki held me in thrall physically as much as ever, I could feel his distraction. I retreated into myself. Reminiscences of Natasha filled my mind. I imagined holding her in my arms or our sparing matches, ending with one of us pinned beneath the other on the mat, or on several memorable occasions, up against the wall. I thought of the last night Tasha and I spent together before I left for the desert research facility. Coulson had discreetly arranged for her to have several days of leave coinciding with mine. I wondered if Fury knew, or cared.
Loki's frenetic pace increased, yanking my attention back. He jerked my head forward, forcing me to swallow as much of his cock as possible when he came. I fell back on my heels struggling not to throw up. My body fought back a few dry heaves. Detachedly, I marveled that on this one score, my mind and body were in complete accord.
"My, my, Agent Barton," he purred. 'Oh, so, I'm only Clint when your dick is in my mouth,'' the thought unbidden and irrational. "You have earned a respite." His head dropped back, his exhale loud and contented. One long fingered hand massaged my neck and scalp, the other braced above me. "You must sleep before our mission to acquire the iridium."
Not acquire, I snarled in the confines of my head, steal. Murder, terrorize and steal. Somewhere in Germany, guards were preparing for work days from which they would never return. True, they accepted that risk as part of their profession, but I wasn't a risk. I was a certainty.
Despicably, the thought of my own lethality allowed me to compose my shaken sense of self.
Loki rearranged himself and pushed away from the white tiled wall, "Now, tell me everything you know about this team of Fury's. Then, you should get something to eat. I believe it has been a number of hours since you've had a meal."
'Hours? Try days, motherfucker.' I thought 'Am I going to have to blow you every time I need to eat or sleep?'
His dazzling grin sickened me.
Loki, gesturing hospitably, pulled me to my feet and ushered me out of the corridor.
'I am going to fucking kill you,' I thought as I blankly followed him.
{Insert shameless begging and pleading for reveiws here. No really, please?}