Summary: It's a truth not quite universally acknowledged that making a sex tape and getting it to go viral for a few seconds of world fame is the ultimate destiny of couplehood.
Warning: Explicit. Very, very adult. Kiddies, just…go away.
A/N: I got tired of angst and darkfic. So filthy crack it is. Sometimes I think I do this just to prove to myself I still have a sense of humour. Happy New Year to the Lokaners on Tumblr, whom I blame for this. I had a hysterical time writing this and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do.
Cariebishop: being perfectionists they keep making sex tapes until they are satisfied with the result.
Gabbiki: imagine if they finally get it right and feel proud with themselves only to find out that the camera has run out of tape/battery.
Annoyinglywiselover:only for it to land in the hands of Stark, and soon you have the Avengers lounging in their tower, eating popcorn with Thor groaning in the background, watching ol' Reindeer Games and Doctor Foster in action.
oOo
0930, Monday
"Oooh…oooooohh…yyyeee—"
Her moans are piercing his eardrums. They're just the wrong side of the A-major scale (his ear, after a few months of listening to Brahms and Bach, is that attuned to music) and a touch asthmatic.
He stops thrusting and grits his teeth with the unwelcome sensation of sliding fully out of her warm sheath. Like magic, her moans stop as a look of confusion and frustration (and latent desire, of course) cloud her face.
"Why did you stop?"
He sighs, but finds that he can be patient with this, with her. Of course, the multiple couplings per day do not hurt anyone and along the way, he'd found out in the greatest way that her sex drive is as malleable as bendable metal.
It was his idea after all. Loosely speaking, especially when it'd involved cleaning out her cupboard of precious notes and vanishing them into his pocket dimension until Jane had finally, finally boarded the love boat of carnal desires after succumbing beautifully to that easy form of blackmail. Except that sailing (or should he say, riding) into their sunset of depraved pleasures hadn't been as smooth and lubricated as cogs in the wheel as he'd hoped.
They're in doggie style right now, with her hunched over the love seat (how appropriate) with her arse pointed in the air, wet and slick with hours of hard work. As much as he adores this position, he straightens and goes to the video camera idling away at the corner of the room.
A quick push of the button and the camera replays the footage of the last ten minutes.
French kissing…fellatio…cunnilingus…all in their pre-requisite order.
Even their backdrop is beautiful. They'd taken the trouble to deck Jane's apartment in resplendent red silk drapes, and with dim lighting surrounding the furniture, the room is as crisp and luscious as a fin-de-Siècle Parisian boudoir.
Hadn't classier adult videos followed this formula to great acclaim?
Still. It makes him frown.
Quite the opposite of being aroused and ready to go, he's on the verge of getting limp watching both him and Jane go at it like rabbits. Their pre-coupling resembles at best, a demented samba on a dreary, rainy wedding day and gives absolutely no indication how they truly scorch the bed sheets when no one is watching.
They are as stiff as hell (no pun intended) if the nervous manner in which they eyeball the tiny camera lens is anything to go by.
"Loki?"
"I thought that was a rather poor imitation of Jenna Jameson," Loki tells her calmly.
Jane scowls indignantly back at him, arousal apparently forgotten. Such a pity.
"I did my research. There were tons of videos on youporn that I watched of her, even read her autobiography—"
He shushes her with a finger on her red, red lips and points at the replay. "Just watch."
She gives him another glare and turns reluctantly to the screen. They both see his tongue flicking quickly over her bits and then her returning the favour, all of which happens to some measure of success. Her moans are especially deafening and his attempts at employing appropriately-timed dirty talk don't even register on the audio feed.
Her grimace soon mirrors his.
"Ugh. That was…"
"-intolerable."
"-bad."
"I had no idea we looked so…"
"-pusillanimous?"
"Actually, I was just going to say 'awkward'."
"It could be the angle of the recording device, seeing as it only points at your puss—"
"Ah…that!"
She interrupts him loudly for the sake of interrupting him, the blush still staining her cheeks a deep rose red. It's funny how her inhibitions could never really be shed cleanly even after they've done everything six ways to Sunday on every piece of furniture that supports coitus.
Loki takes a little more pity on her. She is beguiling (for a mortal who studies the stars) after all, and he cannot help but concede how exiled life on Midgard has suddenly become a few notches more entertaining upon the realisation that sex is truly not the closeted affair he'd assumed it was, given the latest wonder called the Internet and online video streaming.
The inventiveness of mortals knows no bounds, it seems, rivalling even the bawdiest of tales that circulate in Asgard's kitchens and galleys.
Loki finds himself beyond thrilled at this discovery.
Now that Jane is fully on board, it's time to inform her that it will take many tries, many takes before they produce the perfect sex tape.
He tells her that, verbatim.
To his mild shock, she agrees.
He loves that they are both perfectionists where it matters.
"We should do it again."
Her determination will win worlds over and he's never felt prouder.
"And again and again," he echoes solemnly.
oOo
0400, Tuesday
"Perhaps this will help you relax a little more."
Loki holds up a can of whipped cream and a bowl of strawberries.
Jane brightens immediately.
The cream ends up a little more south than it needs to end up and while his talented tongue takes care of it, they run out of food before she can reach a satisfactory orgasm.
"I knew I should have bought five more cans of this."
"We still have the strawberries."
He doesn't wait for her response but slides a cut fruit in between her moist lips. Following the trail of juice down her neck, he tastes the berries' tangy aroma and her musky perspiration, pacing his ministrations as the tape rolls on merrily.
oOo
0630, Tuesday
"It doesn't look too bad," he ventures tentatively. "Except for here-", he freezes the frame and points out the part where her knee is obscuring the wondrous work of his moving hips. "-and here."
"Can't we just…I dunno, cut that out of the film?"
He tosses her a sceptical look. "And go straight from cunnilingus to my orgasm? I fail to see the continuity here. Unless we have both conveniently swapped body parts without us knowing at some point in the making of the video."
Her shoulders slump at his mildly ironic comeback. "I suppose you're right."
"We could try again."
oOo
0700, Tuesday
They are still strawberry-stained, naked and heaving from their exertions on the floor.
This time, it's Jane who points out another unforgiveable fault.
"We also forgot to switch positions."
Loki double-checks the running time and the sort-of screenplay they'd developed together.
Fellatio…cunnilingus…and then the blessed coitus part. From missionary to doggie to cowgirl and maybe back to a deviation of a missionary position, if Jane hadn't yet collapsed from the cramps that tended to develop while she was in those fuck-me stilettos. Except that they'd gone straight to cowgirl and she'd ridden him so hard that they'd both forgotten just how much of an endurance race making a sex tape really is.
"I think I have a new respect for these people working in San Fernando Valley," she tells him ruefully.
oOo
1100, Tuesday
The object is bright purple, phallic and quite possibly, a distant competitor, as inanimate as it is, but he will never understand how women would prefer what Jane calls 'jelly rubber' to warm, velvet male hardness.
Loki eyes it cautiously. It shouldn't be an affront to his…virility and godhood, but it is apparently a constant feature in such videos and so he had agreed to purchase one with Jane's credit card.
Delivery is as rushed and clumsy as a failed bank robbery and he'd simply returned the delivery man's smug look with as much Asgardian superiority as he could muster, not that it'd made very much difference when he was holding a weighty box of sex-enhancing objects in his hand.
Jane holds it up to him then flicks a switch.
The buzzing puzzles him.
"They call this a dildo. Or a vibrator."
He touches a finger to its vibrating tip and snatches it out of her hand. Hurrying over to the camera (it's now a permanent fixture in the room), he starts the tape rolling.
"I have an idea," he tells her wickedly. "Now bend backwards."
oOo
She screams his name, her fingers digging deep into his hair as he rides her, and he's pleased that that her Jenna Jameson type moaning has long been left by the wayside a few takes ago.
But Loki isn't too pleased to learn that Jane had needed the aid of the vibrator to get where she normally gets to with only his fingers and tongue.
Once they're both hoarse and sated, he gets up and stops the recording.
"This isn't working."
Her eyes are still slumberous and her movements sluggish. Signs of a woman well and truly satisfied. "What? Why?"
"I would prefer the removal of foreign objects from the video," he tells her huffily. Surely he is allowed to change his mind about the necessities of toys during coitus.
"I like it," she protests. "And no offence, Loki, but sometimes, a girl just needs a little more pushing. The dildo does that work for her."
He grins widely. "I am named Silvertongue for very justifiable reasons."
oOo
Loki proves it thoroughly. So thoroughly in fact, that they mutually decide on the spot that it is the only section of the tape worth keeping.
oOo
1400, Tuesday
"I think I need coffee."
"I think we need more cameras."
"We require more cream."
"And strawberries."
"And more caramel-flavoured lubrication."
"I prefer the one with the scent of jasmine flowers."
"We could try both. No dildos?"
"No dildos."
oOo
1430, Tuesday
What begins as an accidental spill of coffee on the carpet leads to a desperate twirl into the shower stall, where his wandering hands spread her legs wide.
Hitching a slender leg up his shoulder, he takes a moment to savour the visual feast before propping her against the shower stall.
Then his fingers stroke. Soft, then hard, circling relentlessly until she begs him to finish fast. Instead, he prolongs the sensual torture and conjures additional streams of water to rush over her erogenous zones, edging her towards the inevitable cliff, stopping deliberately when she pants his name.
He'll only allow her to shudder and quake when his smiling mouth brings her to the peak of her pleasure.
"Please."
That much is his undoing.
Her legs lock around his waist as he glides deep and drives them to that foregone conclusion.
oOo
1530, Tuesday
"Dammit, why didn't we get that on tape?"
oOo
1600, Tuesday
Apparently, gods have limits too.
"I've never, ever been naked for over twenty-four hours. Ever. Then again, I've never done a sex marathon in my life."
"To live for pleasure should be mortal man's greatest ambition," Loki muses sleepily, watching Jane literally crawl to the bed and reach for the nearest pillow. He does not even have the strength to perform a quick cleaning spell over them before joining her.
oOo
2000, Tuesday
"Chinese takeout."
"Prolonged coitus does have a wonderful effect on appetite."
oOo
0500, Wednesday
They wake, still tangled together, in the same position they fell asleep last night, with the sheets still artfully curled around their calves and waists. Her small hand is already inching towards his hips and he is already dragging her head down to take her lips in a kiss that pulls her out of the remnants of sleep.
There are no more preliminaries to be bothered with. The past forty-eight hours of marathon sex have rendered clothing an obsolete entity; where there once would have been a nightshirt and a pair of boy shorts to rip apart, Loki finds the lack of barrier to bare skin immensely gratifying.
Thankfully, Jane still has the presence of mind to bolt to the camera to start the recording before things really get hot and heavy.
This time they ignore the angles, lighting and positions when his lips meet her bare shoulder and drift downwards. His tongue, pointed and stiffened, delves inside her, drawing a sharp gasp, then softens as he guides her through the aftershocks. Soon after, she reciprocates, drawing a similar reaction from him.
With just as much wetness.
Every action reverberates with longing, with urgency, with that elusive emotion that they'd both forgotten had always defined them—momentarily lost when they were absorbed in the technicalities of that damn video.
They emerge dazed, throbbing and limp.
oOo
0600, Wednesday
"We might just have our prize, Jane."
oOo
0610, Wednesday
Her fatigued grumble is loud in the sudden silence.
"I'll go check the recording."
oOo
0630, Wednesday
"Shit! I can't believe we ran out of hard drive space!"
oOo
0700, Wednesday
"Maybe we should procure the services of a professional video crew. Cinematography, editing, and the full works."
"Are you kidding me?!"
oOo
0800, Thursday
"Why is there a film crew in my backyard?"
"Miss Lewis had kindly acquiesced to our request and called the best private firm renowned for discreet but excellent direction."
"Weren't you paying attention at all to what I said yesterday?"
oOo
2030, Saturday
"Loki, tell me you didn't just upload the video?!"
Oh, by adding insult to injury…
"I would never short change us, Jane."
She's still staring incredulously at the video. It is all done up with polished editing, incredible cinematography with some elevator jazz in the background, her moans and his grunts tuned sensually lower than the music.
"Why…why it is online then?"
"I sold it to a very reputable company in the adult industry after consulting Miss Lewis on our options."
"You…you showed it to Darcy?!"
He feels this need to reassure her, even though he's still bewildered by her near puritanical attitude towards this very enjoyable activity.
"As well as to a few authorities on sex tapes. They all thought that it would be an instant success among discerning audiences."
Her exclamation comes out as a croak. "Discerning…? Oh god."
Loki gestures impatiently to her laptop's screen, watching onscreen-Loki writhe in ecstasy with onscreen-Jane. The transitions between sexual positions are like clockwork and they look, as popular culture puts it, like "a million bucks". Worthy of those tiny gold statues that they annually hand out to Midgard's actors, really.
"As they predicted, it is an instant success. We have much to be proud of."
"…"
"My dear Jane, you are thirty thousand dollars richer for it."
"…"
"Hadn't you mentioned that your research had always been left wanting in funds?"
There's growing panic on her face. "Yeah, but I didn't think we'd raise money this way! What if everyone I know sees this? I'll never, ever be credible anymore, not to mention—"
He interrupts her gently. "I have observed 50,000 likes in twenty minutes."
Her jaw is still unhinged. "That's…that's actually unbelievable. That's actually more than grumpy cat's meme hits."
Loki leans back in the swivel chair.
The sweetness of success.
oOo
Addendum: 2030, Saturday, Stark Towers
"This had better be good, Stark," Clint Barton warns.
"Trust me, it is."
With a bowl of popcorn delicately balanced on one knee, Natasha Romanov leans forward and glares impatiently at the blank (but impressively large) screen.
"What is the urgency of the matter that you saw fit to summon us from all corners of the realms?"
"Thor, believe me when I say this is worth the gathering."
The lithe figure sweeps into the lounge with more drinks and a larger bucket of popcorn. "He wouldn't tell me either, if that's any consolation. Just got me to call everyone as though he'd discovered the greatest thing in the universe."
"Pepper's in on it too," Stark winked conspiratorially at her indulgent but exasperated look.
"No, Tony, I'm not."
Stark hits a button on his digital pad and a life-sized hologram of a well-known couple in flagrante indelicato fills the room. With audio enhanced.
The room erupts in chaos.
Somewhere a chair is overturned and Stark's prized liquor cabinet is wrenched open by Bruce Banner who grabs the most expensive bottles of scotch and bourbon.
Romanov reaches for the finest Vodka Stark Towers can ever offer as an arrow from Barton shatters his latest, state-of-the-art screen. Mjolnir is spinning a circle in the small lounge, destroying what hasn't been destroyed of the furniture in time with its master's loud bellows.
Steve Rogers is the only one frozen with his mouth hanging open, with his shield covering his face.
Tony Stark has never ever heard a dedicated stream of curses in so many languages in his life, all aimed at him. As novel as the experience is, it makes him wince.
"For six, fucking days, I've run on no sleep on an assignment with S.H.I.E.L.D. and you've called me just to look at this shit?"
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, Barton. Your arrows are going nowhere."
The expletive-ridden air is turning fouler by the minute as Jane's moans grow louder with each second.
Stark hurriedly jabs at a button and stops the video feed, marginally calming down the hot and bothered occupants of the room.
"I'll never be able to look Dr. Foster in the eye again after this." Banner's eyes are still squeezed shut, his hands clenching a bottle of bourbon.
Stark notices mournfully that half his favourite liquor has already disappeared.
"What is the meaning of this?" Like his namesake, Thor is looking as thunderous as he always does before a major battle.
"Isn't it obvious?" Romanov cuts in brusquely. "It's a sex tape of your godforsaken brother and your ex-girlfriend."
"This is the raw footage that they did on their own," Stark cuts in shamelessly, not looking the least bit guilty. "Jarvis hacked Dr. Foster's laptop and got near 48 hours worth of—"
The groaning and cursing simply become louder.
"Hey, I thought it's great entertainment! Who knew Reindeer Games could become so creative?"
"They're viral," Romanov observes the internet statistics dispassionately. "If the figures climb further, they'd be more famous than Madonna's conical bras and—"
Steve Rogers still looks bewildered and not the least bit shocked by the crass vulgarity of this age. "Whoa, wait. Just who are these people?"
Barton is shaking his head. "Cap, my padawan, live and learn."
Stark throws a significant look at Pepper, who looks vaguely impressed. Conquering the world by sex indeed. Even S.H.I.E.L.D. could never manage that.
Trust Reindeer Games to get his ten seconds of fame by hook or by crook.
Well, fuck.
-Fin
