A/N: Here's the beginning of the 'beyond' and the smut. Hooray! In case you guys haven't figured it out yet, I own jack squat.
Wake up you moron! They're here, they're going to kill us! Loki smiles, his face responds instantly. He's in control again, Loki, the real Loki. Now it's left to him to right the mess of the whisperer.
"If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now."
They're rough with him. Forceful, but Loki doesn't resist or chafe. "Halt, friends, Loki is my brother. I will escort him to a prison chamber." Thor grasps Loki by the shoulders and moves to steer him to the basement of Stark tower.
"Alright, you can have Harry Potter here, Fabio, but I'm putting a bug on him." Stark jogs over and sticks a tiny circlet onto Loki's wrist. It was heavy, heavier than anything he'd ever held. "That's a super charged uber magnet on his arm, I don't think he'll be able to move out of this building wearing that."
Loki lifts his eyes for a few seconds, intent upon seeming genuine, "Do not fear, Anthony Stark, I shall not be attempting to escape."
"That is true, my brother will stay. See his face? He his himself again." Thor claps him on the shoulder, hard and grins like only he can.
"Fine, good, whatever. Put him in room 02A, it's empty. Then you, big guy, get back up here. It's schwarma time."
Clint steps forward, arms crossed and face dark. "I think we should post a guard on him. I don't care if he's had a monster concussion from Banner, and a billion ton bracelet on, he did some evil shit and I don't trust him."
Loki's head droops as he and Thor descend in the hovering chamber the Midgardians call an elevator. He hears Barton's words as the doors slide shut and turns to Thor. His brother is watching him, disappointment written across his face.
"Brother, I do not pretend to understand your actions but I know your mind was not your own."
Loki nods, remorse chilling him to the core. "Yes, but you are only half correct, brother. My mind was snatched from me by the Being in the pit but he only took it to hand it over to another part of me, a part that was inside and wicked before. I have evil within me, I truly am fueled by rage and envy."
"Hush, Loki. I know your heart, and you are forgiven by me but Father may not be so gracious. Keep these loathing thoughts to yourself."
Loki shakes his head. Thor is now allowing him to address his most urgent point, "I will face Asgardian justice, I will submit myself to the reckoning of Odin, I will cooperate in every way, I swear a solemn oath on this, brother, but I ask of you one thing."
"Perhaps, brother, I will do as I may."
"Please, Thor, guard me, post a watchmen on me, but keep the woman away from me." Loki sighs heavily, trying to push her from his mind. Thor's naïveté shows through as he does not understand his brother's request or reaction.
"The woman? Do you speak of Lady Natasha?"
"Yes, brother—"
"But why? She is just and fair and will you no harm."
"I am aware, but keep her from me. Lock me away, shackle me by hand and foot, even muzzle me but keep that woman away. She incites me."
Thor stops his brother in the middle of the corridor and turns Loki to face him. "Incites you? Brother, I do not understand."
"No, you do not." Loki pulls away, continuing his march to his cell. "That is clear or you would have me bound and gagged. The monster, the beast using my body is not banished but merely subdued, retreated into the recesses of my mind. He is a part of me, my Jotun half. I am in control now, but he is still within, lurking. Treat me as though I hide a hideous monster to be released if spurred to rage—treat me like your hulking friend, Doctor Banner. I hold the same, not one huge and indomitable but slithering and manipulative." His lip curls with disgust as he thinks about the thing inside. "Understand?"
Thor's brows furrow, "I see brother, but why Lady Natasha?"
"I said she incites me, brother! Did you not hear the words I just spoke?" Just the thought of her makes his blood boil, but perhaps it is not wrath now.
"Incites you? These words are evasive." Thor smiles warmly. "Are you grown fond of a Midgardian lady?"
Loki hisses, "Silence. No. The sight of her stirs him with wrath within me. She bested him, I owe her a debt and he loathes her for this. His rage makes him strong and I wish not to be take back by him. He leaves a bitter taste in my mouth."
Thor chuckles, unconvinced by Loki's excuses, "Peace, brother, your request shall be honored. The Lady Romanoff shall not come near you." They're reached the appointed room, Loki steps inside as Thor tarries at the door. "I will send the tiny warriors all in black."
Loki shakes his head with frustration as Thor's footfalls quiet. He is left alone in a chamber all of iron. Perhaps you should have requested the woman to guard you. All alone, in this secluded space. The voice pipes up inside of him slimy and dark. You might have had her, made her, entered her. Deep and forceful and warm.
"Silence!" Loki shakes his head roughly and shouts at the emptiness. "You are weak! Just words and fear. I am strong once more, I hold my own mind." He's shaking, angry. "Oh. I see. You're weak so you play with emotions, incite me to anger that you might emerge and have control again."
Loki chuckles at the silence that follows. "I know you. You are weak and you will stay weak." Calm. Sweet, warm clam descends over him and the whispers no longer sting or chill.
I may be weak now, but I am no different from you. We are one and the same. We are just words and fear, we are weak so we play with emotions. We use magic. A shimmering image flashes before him, his own shape but wan and dark eyed with that snarling grin. A taunting projection. Loki just closes his eyes. The SHIELD agents are come. He can hear them stomp to a stop outside the door.
The voice is right, he know it, but now he knows. Now, now he can control it. "I am changed. I have learned. Midgard is full of lessons; it instructed Thor and now me. It reveals the differences. You are the Jotun, I am of Asgard. Now be silent, I wish to rest." And the voice is stifled and Loki sleeps.
He dreams of her.
Not visions of anger or lust, just her face as she speaks and listens. She interacts with the archer, Barton she calls him, the one Loki had stolen. He feels a twinge, what is it? Guilt? No, not guilt or shame or the usual emotions. It's jealousy, an old enemy. He wishes to speak with her, make her laugh so.
You're pathetic. Even in his dreams he cannot escape the shadow's jeers.
What is it about this woman, this mortal? Loki doesn't bother responding. He is dreaming, after all, so he drifts back to it, to watching her. Now she's quiet, listening perhaps, he can't see at whom she looks, and her face is soft and relaxed. He's yet to see her this way.
Can you imagine those lips? He certainly can, but he doesn't, he returns instead to passive observation.
Just consider their feel across your cock.
"LOKI!" He jolts awake as his naughty conscience's last word settle upon his mind. Thor and his human companions stand above him. "Brother, you have slept for six days. I was growing concerned."
Loki sits up and looks around the room, inspecting every face but one. They do not share his brother's concern. "I appreciate your care for me, I am perfectly fine, I assure you. Though I doubt you would all be sorry to hear the opposite." He puts on a small frown and averts his eyes. It's easier not to look at their faces, to avoid staring into their antipathy.
"Nonsense! You are well appreciated and soon restored home. Get yourself up, we are returning to Asgard. Anthony Stark has fashioned our way." He claps Tony on the back, hard but then his face grows sober. "There is but one condition, dear brother, the counsel of Fury has ordered you to wear this." He holds out a small device, Loki recognizes it as a muzzle.
"Of course." He bows his head as Tony straps it on.
"Thank you for your cooperation." Stark pulls the fasten tight and Loki can feel the pressure on his jaw. "Don't come back now and visit us, once was enough, Rudolph."
He is referring to our helmet. Loki quickly closes his eyes as Natasha strides past, she had purposefully turned to look him square in the eye. It was easier to focus even on his internal dialogue than her contemptuous glance. Was it really contempt, though? Loki can't be sure, he didn't see properly and it is best that way.
He cooperates all the way to the transport point, following submissively and without malice. Even when Clint and Natasha share a moment of joking at his expense Loki remains impassive. Her whisper is accompanied by a sidelong glance that cuts deeper that Barton's smug smirk but Loki stays still, eyes lowered and shoulders drooping. This is part of his punishment, public subjugation. He might as well be in the stocks.
The transport by the Tesseract is speedy and painless. Both he and his brother are instantly in the throne room of Asgard. Odin is away but the rest of court is present, leering at him and his alien muzzle. Thor removes the device but Loki stays quiet. It is time to start repenting, the first step to that for him, the teller of tales and weaver of intricate lies, is to stay silent.
"Loki." His mother greets him, but not affectionately. The crushing disappointment is carved into her face, she seems to have aged immensely while he was away.
"You are to be sent to your chamber. There you will remain until you are called before the judgment of Asgard and heard by your father, Odin Allfather. Afore that day you will be confined to your quarters without companion or diversion and under no circumstances are to be allowed to speak." The weight of his crimes weighs heavily on her, he can see tears budding in her eyes.
"If that is clear, you may nod your head." He does so. "Very well, then Thor shall lead you there."
Neither of them speak, as was commanded, as they descend to his rooms but there is not discomfort in their silence. Thor embraces him fondly when they reach Loki's room and graces him with a sunny smile. He is certain that Loki will be redeemed. It is good news, for he has sorely missed his brother both at home and at arms. Loki, on the other hand, is not so sure.
Odin Allfather will never forgive you, Laufeyson, for your sins. You are scum to him, a rabid, wretched Frost Giant worth less than naught. Loki tunes out his whisperer's heckling as his brother leaves him, another clap on the shoulder endowed before his final turn.
What now? What are we to do now? The phantom of himself appears again, grows more solid this time and circles Loki, all the while goading him. There is no way to know how long Odin shall delay your trial, you may be left in here to rot for eons, maybe even permanently. His form is so realistic Loki can almost feel his breath in his ear.
Just use some magic, magic us out of here, then we can meddle elsewhere. Go out and play. An image of Natasha flashes before him, replacing the other Loki's projection, but quickly reverts to him. He frowns, frustrated with his failed attempt but shrugs soon after. Words are better tools besides.
Loki locks eyes with his doppelganger. "What? Too weak to create one beside yourself?" The other sneers at him but drops closer, his lips mere millimeters from the shell of his ear. We don't need her here, do we? You remember our youth. I know you do, I've seen your mind. Think back to all those years we overheard the murmurings of the Lady Sif. Was not her voice enough to set you ablaze?
Loki remembers well enough, there were plenty of adolescent nights spent fantasizing over the Lady Sif and her goings on, whether with his brother or the other men of court, even if only imagined. How long has it been since you envisioned yourself a woman to have? Many years, since before his fall. When last did you lay with one and quench your thirst for carnal knowledge? Since before Thor's coronation attempt, the Lady Ville had diddled with him in a servant's corridor. They had kissed and she had wrenched his trousers from him before swallowing his manhood and smiling all the while. They had missed the feast that eve. She had promised to visit him in his chambers the next night but that never came. Instead he had been lured to mischief and all had been ruined.
Imagine, what you would have had from Lady Ville, but now from Natasha. She is young and shapely as Ville is and yet you want her more, 'tis her tenacity, is it not? His voice has not withdrawn, the imagined breath of his words still plays around Loki's ear.
She would pleasure you like no Lady here would dare. He filthy mortal ways would be of novel effect. No doubt she would permit your mouth to her warmth. You might taste her as you couldn't Ville or Astrid. She must taste divine. Think of it, her thighs, warm, fair and firm about your shoulders. Her body, lithe and curving laid out before you and her face, aglow with need as you taste of her. Her mouth dropping open, breath scarcely escaping as you eat from her secret. Your name upon her lips, mewled forth while your mouth elicits her deepest pleasure. A tiny gasp escapes Loki's lips as his other self magics Natasha's voice into the room, moaning out his name.
No doubt, that is not all. The other is just as enwrapped in this fantasy as Loki since he doesn't pause to relish the gasp. She would surely allow you all the more. Once sated and wet with ecstasy she would let you enter her fully without the guards the Ladies here require. No sheep's bladder with her, no. Unsheathed you might plunge yourself, he sets his jaw. The words are incredibly enticing and Loki can feel himself stirring. Yes, think on it. Warm and tight. She would pool herself around you, absorb you and revel in it, struggling against you not to part but to enmesh her limbs through yours. Her breasts, free of their manmade confines left to bounce the rhythm of your ruts. You might turn her round, ride her as beast on beast until she screams for you, missing the force of your thrust upon her tingling secret.
His attempts to squelch his rising have failed. A glace towards the door and the bar is clapped down, privacy his own. Another instant and his clothes are vanished. Naked and throbbing Loki allows himself this indulgence and the murmurer aids and abets.
Yes, take this. You want her, envision her. Loki obeys, shutting his eyes and illustrating the words or his other mind. Hand upon the shaft of his hardness, he sees her naked, shimmering with sweat and his own hands playing across her chest, her stomach, down to her modesty. Perfect. It is a purr that echoes around his ears. She is open for her, take her, enter her. Good.
He strokes himself hard as the image corresponds, her face opening with pleasure. Feel her. She is taut like a maiden and yet knows how to serve a man, enjoy it.
His second hand joins, inching towards his balls, cupping them. It's been so long he's already nigh on close. She's panting for you, raking your skin with her nails, begging for more. You fulfill her deep, hard, long thrusts. Faster now, his hand picks up pace, tightening as well. She shakes with mounting pleasure, her breasts rise and fall in sharp movements, she tightens around you, rigid and screaming your name.
He's panting now, close, so close. Her body relaxes and she whispers, he takes on her voice, come for me Loki. And you do. He swallows a strangled groan and melts into his seat. You fill her with your seed and are sated. And he is.