Loki arouse the next morning drowsy. Usually the Asgardian was perfectly aware of his surroundings upon waking but for once he was perfectly relaxed. The moment he felt a hand twitch against his torso he knew why.

Agent Barton lay beside him, their bodies pressed together and limbs tangled from their romp the previous night. Everything had been intimate and intense. It was unlike anything he had felt before and all he could think was he wanted more. His interest with the mere mortal was fully piqued and he intended to sate the hunger burning in his core.

Honestly he imagined he would feel silly before, during and after the occurrence but it was the complete opposite.

All he wanted was to lie there with Clinton's head on his shoulder, forehead pressed lightly against his chin, and his body on fire. He never wanted the moment to end, and yet as the male beside him stirred, Tesserac blue eyes fluttering open, he knew the affair had to come to an end.

This man was not truly his, not the way he now wanted. It would pain him to send him into battle, but that's what Loki had brought him here for in the first place. He could die tomorrow once he attacked the soldiers he himself would be infiltrating.

Once the Asgardian was captured how would he know what would happen? If his lover were to perish what would he do? Simply go on living, ruling Midgard as he pleased?

The two men dressed in silence, Agent Barton leaving first without a word.

The God sighed.

It was all so inane. He was behaving like a child, believing he couldn't have what he wanted. Loki, God of Mischief could have whatever and whomever he pleased whenever he pleased. When all was said and done he would be on top and Barton would be his ever faithful soldier.

Their little tryst was nothing of importance.

So he thought.

He'd been a fool to try and convince himself that Agent Barton's life was of no significance for the moment he pointed that arrow at his chest his heart painfully contracted.

He supposed this would be the last they ever met so he did the only thing that came to mind at the moment. He asked for a drink.


Clint hadn't hesitated at aiming his bow at his previous "employer" or so he called the God. He felt nothing at the time and yet as he stood with the other Avengers giving them a final farewell he glanced upon the contained chaos in man, or rather God form and for a moment something buried deep inside him ached. He hadn't a clue what it was and Loki refused to look back at him, concentrated instead on his brother.

The two Norse Gods departed. The remaining Avengers disassembled. Yet the dull ache in his chest remained.


Yeah okay I wasn't going to do this but... There it is. It's sad, I know and we'll never be together but I still love you. Does that help?