AN: Fair warning guys, the beginning of this chapter entails a graphic rape scene. It isn't meant to be sexy at all. If that sort of thing bothers you, you can skip the italicized section, and resume reading where the standard font begins.
Chapter 10:
Loki barely has a chance to climb to his feet before the men are upon him, and he feels the hard bone beneath the knuckles of the one nearest, driven into his teeth and across the bridge of his nose.
The world explodes in white and pain, and a moment later, he's on the ground again, not really understanding how he's gotten there.
He curls in on himself, hands over his head, tensing in wait for the feel of their metal tipped boots, sinking into his abdomen or against his ribs.
Another beating, he thinks, and he can't help feeling afraid.
Only the blow never comes, and an instant later, he's being hauled up, hands hooking into the pits of his arms and lifting him easily, thick fingers digging into the thin skin, pinching painfully.
He'd dragged over to a rough wooden table, and slammed down against his chest and stomach, over its top, the wind knocked from his already straining lungs.
He hardly has a moment to dwell on the discomfort though before he feels one of the other guards take hold of his wrists and yank his arms out straight, locking them at the elbow and pinning them with brutal force against the table's surface. The man's grip is crushing, and Loki chokes back a strangled whimper, worried suddenly that his wrists will be broken. He won't be able to work if they break his wrists. And if he can't work, then they'll…
The edge of the table digs painfully into his stomach as he's bent double against it. He feels one of the men behind him crowding in against his backside, bending over him, pressing a wide palm against the back of his skull and shoving his face against the table top.
Fear settles like a fog over his thoughts, and unthinkingly, he struggles, tugging, weak and useless, against the hold on his wrists.
No, no, no… he thinks desperately, despairingly. Not again, please, please… not again…
His pitiful fight only results in bellowed laughter all around him, and an instant later, the bleached taste of a wool rag being shoved into his mouth and pulled taught past his teeth coats his tongue, muffling down his already frail protests as it's tied back and tight.
"Now, now, Prince Loki," the one pressing at his back leans down, lips against his ear, and Loki can feel his weight, settling across him. "no need for coy behavior. You know you enjoy this well as us."
Loki tries to scream, an instinctive cry for help, even as he knows with cold logic, were anyone to hear him, no one would come. The rag dampens the sound to nothing more than a whimper, and he knows it's useless. Just like all the times before.
His eyes close, and he can't help the wash of tears which suddenly press against his clamped lids, slipping free and down his face.
There's more laughter all around, and he feels the rough tug against the waistband of his breeches, the feel of damp, cold air against his backside a moment later, in between his legs.
The guard at his back presses his palm harder against the side of his head, crushing his cheek more forcefully against the table's surface, before running his thick fingers through Loki's short hair in some mock show of affection.
"That's a good boy." He says, close to his ear again. "Just relax and enjoy it."
Loki wishes he could die. He wishes Odin had let him die, instead of this.
His body trembles without his consent, hard and uncontrolled, and he struggles to choke down the sobs which lodge suddenly in his throat, closing it up. He isn't completely successful, trickling out as more, strangled whimpers.
"Will you look at that?" Says one of the men, somewhere in the space. "He can barely contain himself, he's so excited."
"Well, you've heard the rumors about this one, have you not?" Says another. "He was known for letting any warm creature fill his hole, so long as it had a cock to do it with!"
Another round of laughter, and the press of the guard's palm against his head finally lifts, rough padded fingers tracing down his back, lifting under the hem of his tattered tunic and kneading violently the flesh underneath.
"Mmmm, he's argr alright." He breathes, breath hot against the back of Loki's neck. "Oh, you should see how he loves it."
Loki can't help it, his arms tugging reflexively against the hold of them one last time, raw, naked panic screaming at him to get away.
But he isn't strong enough, held down as simply as one would a child.
The hand at his back disappears then, and a moment later, there is a wet, popping noise, the sound of someone sucking on their own fingers.
Immediately, Loki stiffens, knowing what comes next. Another, vain tug of his wrists, and it's as far as he gets before he feels the awful pressure of those fingers shoved up inside him, first one, then two, then a third.
It hurts, badly, and a choked whine slips passed the gag in his mouth, tears welling thicker and falling, hot down his face.
"That's right, little Prince," the one at his back hisses as he leans over Loki again. "tell us how much you want it."
The fingers twist, pushing farther in, crooking with experience, and unwanted, so horribly, despairingly unwanted, a warm spasm of pleasure shoots up through Loki's lower belly.
He chokes back the groan which threatens at the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes tighter, and he wants to die. Oh Norns, please, please, he wants to die now. Right now.
Shame is a crushing wave, drowning him beneath its weight.
Another twist of the fingers, and then there's a warm pressure around the shaft of his penis, squeezing firm, the pad of a thumb against the tip, massaging in a tiny, circular pattern, executed with the same experience.
The warm pleasure again shoots like a spear through Loki's belly, and his teeth clench, grinding audibly in an attempt to keep himself quiet, his frame ridged and tensed to shaking.
The guard at his back doesn't relent, continuing on in his ministrations, until, to his unutterable shame and horror, Loki can feel himself growing erect, the pleasure his body feels mounting in waves, even as his mind screams for it to stop.
And he can't stop the moan which finally slips free past the now saliva soaked rag as the guard once more crooks his fingers and presses them, digging the nail of his thumb against the slit along the head of his penis, slick now with pre-cum.
"Oh, I think he's ready then, don't you?" The guard asks his companions, and there's a chorus of affirmations.
Another, broken groan breaks loose from Loki as the man pulls his fingers free, the pressure releasing, and Loki feels his body sag limply against the table's surface, the tears unceasing as they continue to slip past his lids.
He refuses to open his eyes, refuses to see. Refuses to look as others witness his shame.
His face burns hot with his humiliation as he knows he won't be able to stop this. That he can't stop this. Oh, gods, gods, why… why is this happening? Why does this have to happen?
There comes no answer but for his own voice, telling him it is because he is a monster. Because he deserves this and a thousand times worse. Because he's never been good for anything but as a tool for the purposes of others.
He stiffens again as he feels the man at his back slide into him in one, swift thrust, the line of his hips hard and forceful against Loki's thighs.
His fingers curl, digging hard enough into his palms to break the skin, his jaw clenching as the guard begins to thrust into him, pulling out nearly all the way before driving back in, slamming again and again against the same point as he'd had his fingers.
The hand around Loki's penis continues tugging, calloused palm sliding up and down the shaft with practiced ease, thumb rubbing hard, determined circles against the head.
The please builds at a rapid rate, rippling through, radiating from low in his belly, pulsing into his crotch and tingling out to his very extremities, washing over him in a wave, and Loki knows he's going to come.
He tries to stop it, even as he knows it's useless. He holds himself tense and ridged and unyielding, fighting… fighting. Oh gods, please, don't let this happen…
But his prayers are meaningless. The fates care nothing for his pleas.
A choked groan rips past his forced apart lips, and he tries to cut it off from dragging out long, failing as he ejaculates, hard and violent, his cum spilling over the hand still pumping him, hitting the underside of the table.
It seems to last forever, wave after wave of disgusting pleasure tearing through him, until finally it recedes, and Loki sags, limp and boneless against the tables surface, hands going slack and face lolling onto its side.
The guard inside him isn't finished yet, and continues driving into him, letting go of his penis to take hold of his hips, nails digging into his skin.
Loki doesn't know how long it is before he hears the man cry out in his own pleasure, and feels the warmth of his seed pouring into him, sliding down the inside of his thighs.
And then it's over. The man pulls out, letting go of his hips, the one holding his wrists finally releasing him.
Loki barely registers the slap the guard gives to his backside, and then he's being hauled up off the table and shoved to the ground, his breeches still down around his ankles.
He keeps his eyes closed, his arms coming up over his head.
There comes more laughter, someone nudging his shoulder with the tip of their boot.
"Thanks for the good fuck, my Lord." He hears. "I suppose until we meet again."
And then he's alone. Blessedly.
For a long time afterwards, he can only lay there, his mind unrelenting, thoughts unceasing in their torment of him.
He cannot not even find the will to cover himself. To find the resolve.
He doesn't know why he's still alive. Why can't he die? Why can't this end? Is he really so cursed? So pathetic that he cannot even die?
Finally, after how long he does not know, he uncurls himself and reaches down, fingers groping blindly for the waistband of his trousers, pulling them up, clumsily and one handed. He doesn't know why he even bothers.
He can still feel the warmth of blood and cum down the insides of his legs.
The assault flashes through his mind.
His own reactions…
And at once he becomes sick, bile rising fast and hard up from the pit of his stomach, into his throat.
He just barely makes it to his knees before he's doubled over and throwing up violently onto the ground.
Only there isn't any real food in his stomach, and it mostly comes up saliva and water.
He gags, and chokes, and continues to dry heave for several, long seconds, before finally the sickness passes, and he collapses back onto his side.
His arms come up around himself, knees drawn to his chest.
He thinks of Thor, and how ashamed of him his brother must be.
He thinks of Mother…
Imagines her beautiful face, twisted in disgust as she gazes upon him.
He doesn't know when it is he begins to cry. Only realizes a while later the sound of weeping is his own, and feels the hot moisture against his cheeks as the tears slip from his eyes.
There is too much noise.
Too much everything.
Loki doesn't even know how he got here. Not really.
One moment, he was in the slave barracks. Then there were those same men again… those same guards. They were going to… to…
And then Thor was there, and… and Steve… and they were taking him away.
And then there was Mother, and she was telling him she loved him, despite everything… despite his own shame, and he couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand why, why would she still love him? How could she? And if she knew, if she knew of his shame, of the shame he would bring her just by association, surely then she would turn from him in repulsion.
But she told him she loved him, and that Thor and Steve were going to take him away, that they were going to bring him to Midgard, where he would be safe. Where he wouldn't be beaten anymore, and flogged. Where those men could no longer… no longer…
And then there had been Odin, and he'd been so sure they'd been discovered, and that Odin was going to hurt Mother and… and Thor and Steve, and it was all going to be his fault again. It was all going to be his doing. And why did he have to destroy everything good? Why did everyone he touched get hurt? And why couldn't they learn to leave him? Why couldn't they learn that?
For their own good, they needed to leave him be.
And now there is too much noise, there are too many people.
Thor's friends. The… the one's who'd defeated the Chitauri and… and him. The one's he'd counted on to… to…
And then there's that man.
The one who, like him, hides beneath his skin a monster.
And all Loki can think then is pain, pain, pain and fear.
He remembers the agony of feeling his bones crush and break against stone floors, the whip of air, slicing against his face, and the sound of breaking, crumbling rock. The hurt of his neck snapping too quickly in one direction, only to be pulled instantly and violently in the other, the world spinning in too fast, nauseating circles and the taste of blood and bile against his tongue, burning at his throat.
The feel of being utterly, completely helpless in the grip of another. Having no strength against it, no hope. Worse even than it ever was against Thor. He's never felt so physically weak except for when… when…
And he panics.
The world around him fades to nothing, and he hears only a deafening roar, broad, hideous features twisted in blind, singular fury.
And he feels himself falling, down, down, down and he has to get away. Get away!
But the thing has a hold of him now, pinning him down, crushing him like he's nothing, nothing, and he isn't strong enough to break free! He isn't strong enough to do anything, even as he thrashes and struggles with every ounce of his pitiful strength.
He thinks of his youth.
Thinks of early days on the training fields, before he'd learned to wield his power. Before he'd learned to use his speed and agility and he'd found himself trapped in the grip of the other children, always so much bigger and stronger than him, and he could never get away as they pushed him into the dirty and beat him over and over and over and…
Thinks of Thor, holding him down while Brokk sewed his lips shut…
Thinks of… hears… hears…
"Loki, calm yourself! Calm yourself. You see me brother. You know me. I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you. Not ever again."
And the world comes rushing back in.
He blinks, staring up into his brother's face.
He thinks for a moment it should be twisted in rage and disgust.
But as his vision clears, and he looks truly, Thor's face is lined only in concern, his features soft and reassuring and kind.
"Thor?" He asks, and his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.
"Aye." He hears Thor say, and he smiles at Loki, and Loki thinks he might cry.
He wants suddenly, desperately to hold onto Thor and not let go. Wants Thor to hold him back, strong arms about him and the certainty, the absolute certainty that with him there, with his big brother there to protect him, no one could ever hurt him. No one could…
"That's right buddy." He hears from somewhere off to the side. "You're alright."
And he recognizes this voice too. There are flashes of a kind, handsome face, and gentle hands, holding onto his own, touching him without intent to hurt...
He turns his face, and there he sees the soldier. The captain.
"Steve…" he breathes, and there is such relief which grips him then, and he wonders when it is, he started to associated the good-hearted mortal with safety too.
Only then there is too much noise again, people shouting, a cacophony of sound assaulting his ears, and once more he can feel himself slipping away from the present, pushing it out. Pushing it away.
He'd learned to do this over the years of enslavement.
To forget the world.
Sometimes it…
Sometimes, it made it bearable. Sometimes…
He thinks Thor has him then. Can feel his brother's arms around him.
He isn't sure beyond that.
But it hardly matters.
He hears Thor's voice, telling him he's safe. Telling him he won't let anyone hurt him. And he lets himself believe that. Just this once. He lets that be enough.
/
Thor takes him to a room that is quiet and dark. Ahead of them is the man in the mechanical suit, the one who had accompanied the captain to Asgard, before disappearing.
Loki pays him little mind, clinging to Thor as he leads him to a large, raised mattress, and begins to lower him to it.
Loki thinks to himself that he should let go. Should uncurl his fingers from around his brother's thick arm.
He thinks he's supposed to hate Thor. Supposed to feel rage and betrayal towards the elder god, for leaving him… for abandoning him to… to everything.
But those feelings are gone now to distant memory. He isn't sure if they were ever real.
And Thor means safety. He means warmth and protection and kindness.
He can't let go, and eventually, he feels Thor's stronger hands, gently prying his fingers away and pushing his arms to his sides.
"It is alright brother." He says softly. "I will not leave you."
Loki blinks, lifting his gaze to Thor and staring back at him. He sees no deception in his brother's face.
Thor never could lie. Pure hearted, righteous, heroic Thor.
He never could lie.
And oh, wasn't that the reason it hurt so much, all those times he spoke ill of Loki? All those times he left him behind, and told him no, told him he wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough, was too much of a coward and to know your place Loki. Know your place.
Always at Thor's back.
Always in Thor's shadow.
That was Loki's place.
He'd been a fool to think he could stand in the sun with his brother.
He feels the drag of fabric against his bare shoulders and back, the sting only slight against his wounds as Thor pulls his cloak away from him, leaving his torso naked.
Instinctively, Loki's arms come up around himself, his head bowing down, hiding away.
There's a sharp hiss from somewhere in the room, and for a moment, Loki's heart slams sickeningly against his chest, fear crackling through him as he looks up and sees the beast stood by the rooms entryway, staring back at him with wide, alarmed eyes, some sort of large, black case held in his hands.
"Fuck." The mechanical man mutters from someplace else. "What did they do to him?"
"They stoned him, and then whipped him again."
That's Steve's voice, and Loki's eyes shift to him, standing just a little ways back from Thor. His face is fixed in a scowl, angry, and Loki wonders if he's done something wrong. If the captain is angry at him.
He hopes not.
He likes the captain.
"Tony, would you go get him some water?" Steve goes on, and Thor is kneeling in front of him, taking Loki's skeletally thin hands into his own, holding them loosely.
"Right." Tony says, moving for the door.
"Loki," Thor starts softly, and Loki looks down at him. "I know you are fearful of him, but Bruce is a good man, and he is a healer. He can help you, if you but allow him."
Bruce?
Loki swallows, uncertain a moment, before memory catches up with him, and he recalls that is the title by which the beast calls himself when he is in the guise of a man.
There is a shift at his periphery, and Loki's eyes snap to where the beast stands, seeing he's moved closer. Loki feels himself tense to shaking, unable to suppress the strangled gasp which slips from his throat.
Thor's hands tighten over his, holding him still.
"It's alright brother." He says, voice urgent and pleading. "He isn't going to hurt you. I swear to you."
"Th-Thor…" Loki stammers out, his mouth dry and fingers numb. "please…"
"It's alright Loki." His brother again promises, and the beast has stopped again, hands held up.
"Maybe this isn't a good idea." He says, and Loki cannot help the flinch at the creature's voice, soft and benign though it seems.
"But he needs help." Steve starts, stepping closer to Loki and kneeling down, beside Thor. "Loki," he says, reaching out and laying a hand along Loki's shoulder.
Loki's head turns, staring down at the captain, a strange sort of ease coming over him at the sight of the mortal.
Steve smiles at him, and the tension in Loki's frame lessens only just.
"Thor's right." He says. "Bruce isn't going to hurt you. Alright? He only wants to take a look at those wounds on your back and make sure everything else is alright. He wants to help you."
The mechanical man comes back into the room then, moving towards them, a glass of water held in his hand.
"Here you go kiddo." He says, holding the glass out towards Loki.
Loki stares at it a long moment, uncertain. He thinks it could be poisoned, though the water contained within looks clear, and he smells nothing odd.
And he's thirsty. Oh gods, is he thirsty.
"It is alright brother." Thor says, seeming to realize his worry.
And he takes the glass from the mechanical man and drinks from it himself, showing it to be unsullied.
That's all it takes. When he then holds the glass out to him, Loki takes it with shaking hands, and brings it to his lips, tipping it back and swallowing too much, too quickly. Half the water escapes down his chin, and his eyes sting at the flow of liquid down his dry, raw throat.
But he can't make himself stop, and within moments, the glass is drained.
It's only afterwards, Loki realizes he may have overstepped his allowance, and a sudden fear washes through him, eyes wide as his hands tighten around the flimsy glass, the material creaking ominously beneath his grip.
He flinches violently when the glass is pulled abruptly from his hands, relaxing only after he realizes it is the captain who's taken it from him, smiling softly at him in return.
"We don't want you to cut yourself Loki." He says, and then he's handing the glass back to the mechanical man, and asking him to fetch more water.
"So is it alright?" Steve goes on then. "If Bruce takes a look at you? We promise, we aren't going to let anything happen to you Loki. You're safe here."
Steve is asking, as though Loki has a choice.
The very notion is absurd, and Loki knows it is only pretense.
It is only that both Steve and Thor are too kind to present their demands now as orders. They want Loki to feel comforted, and the generosity of their attitude is not lost on the former prince.
He doesn't want to beast near him. He doesn't want his hands on him at all. Doesn't want…
But there is no choice. He knows that too.
And though he believes the captain's gentility to be sincere, and Thor's as well, he knows too such things can change swift and without need of real reason. Simple refusal on Loki's part would be enough…
And so he nods, stiff and wary, feeling his stomach lurch as what he's just agreed to dawns on him.
But it earns him a smile in turn, both from the captain and his brother, and Loki thinks he must have done good.
Hopes he has…
"Okay." Steve nods, pushing himself to his feet. "Alright."
The mechanical man's come back again, this time resting the glass of water on a nightstand by the bed.
"Loki's agreed to let Bruce look him over." The captain's explaining to him, and the mechanical man is nodding.
"We can step out then." Steve goes on, turning towards Loki, expression questioning. "Would you like us to?" He asks.
Again, more pretense, the illusion of choice. It is kind. Loki does not understand why the captain continues to treat him thus.
"I will remain." Thor says when Loki doesn't answer. He looks to Steve. "My brother is accustomed to me seeing him. And it will make him feel more secure."
Steve nods.
"Alright." He says, and then he has a hand on the back of the mechanical man, and he's guiding him towards the room's entrance. "We'll just be outside then, if you need us."
And then he's gone, along with the other, the door closing behind them, leaving Loki alone with Thor and the beast.
Loki doesn't want him near him, but he forces himself to stay still as the creature comes closer, slow and cautious, as though he's afraid too. The thought is almost comical. As if he could hurt the creature. But Loki finds little reason to laugh.
"You're sure he's alright with this?" The beast says, standing back a few feet.
Thor nods, keeping his eyes on Loki.
"Aye." He answers. "Come brother, let me help you from these." He tugs gently on the waistband of Loki's breeches, and Loki simply nods in acquiescence, shoving down the anxiety which takes sudden, unyielding hold of his insides.
Thor won't let the creature… he won't let him…
He swallows thickly, shame burning his face at the thoughts, and he turns it away, eyes closing.
"Is he…" the beast starts to ask something as Thor lies Loki onto his back and undoes the laces of his breeches, beginning to tug them down his hips.
"The damage runs 'cross the whole of him." Thor starts, finally pulling the garment free. Loki wants to curl in on himself. Wants to hide away and not let anyone see. Not allow anyone to know his shame. He forces himself to remain as he is, clenching his jaw hard and keeping his eyes shut. "I think it best you examine the whole of his form my friend."
"Right…" the beast replies warily.
Loki wonders if he's disgusted by the sight of him. If his Jotun skin is so hideous that it repulses even a monster such as the Hulk.
He feels the weight and warmth of Thor's hand then, resting against his forehead, his other taking hold Loki's curled fingers.
"Is this well brother?" He asks quietly. "Are you comfortable?"
No, Loki thinks. No. He wants to be away now. He wants to hide away where no one can see him. His throat feels tight with humiliation.
Instead he nods, jerky and stiff.
"Very well then." Thor replies, relief in his voice. "Bruce?"
Loki hears him shifting closer, but still he refuses to open his eyes.
His frame tenses, and he can't keep himself from jerking hard when he hears the creature's voice, right beside him, from the other side of the bed.
Thor's hand squeezes tighter over his, and he squeezes back.
"I guess," the beast says. "I should take a look at his back first. Can… can you roll over onto your stomach for me Loki?"
He sounds so timid, and again, it strikes Loki as absurd.
What reason has he for such wariness?
Loki gives no response, simply doing as he's told, rolling over onto his side, and then his stomach as Thor lets go his hand.
His fingers dig into the material of the mattress, and he bites down hard on his lip when he feels rough, small hands touching his back, warm and awful.
Tears burn against the backs of his eyes, and he keeps them shut, trying to block out the world.
Trying so hard not to remember.
/
AN: So, I know that was awful, and I'm sorry! But like I said, just because Loki's out of Asgard doesn't mean he's all magically better and that the trauma's he's suffered are just going to go away. But I suppose you can take consolation in the fact that at least he's safe now.