[Couple of weekend later.]
Stark really did go on to bring him to an impressive variety of clubs. Some were beautiful and expensive establishments, and others were foul and cheap - but wonderful in their own way, because they were full of drunken women who craved touch almost as much as he did. Once, they stayed out the entire night, til long after the ordinary clubs were closed, and then piled into a dirty afterparty venue with some strange ragtag bunch of humans wearing their weight in makeup and sparkles.
Loki was in the bathroom after sunrise, and found a man trying to scrub vomit and glitter off his face so that he could put on a business suit and go to work. Moved by admiration of the creature's determination (and pity, really), he helped.
The man slurred out effusive thanks and kissed him. Stark walked in on them a few minutes later, just as they'd finally found a comfortable position for fucking. The man was standing with one foot up on the toilet and his hands braced against the wall; Loki was pressed to him tightly, trying to keep from touching the filthy walls or the filthy sink behind him. Stark laughed...
... And then darted forward with an expression of horror. "Whoa – bareback? Nuh-uh!"
"What? Let go!" Loki tried to protest as he was dragged off his partner and shoved into a wall. He set his clothes to rights, since clearly fucking was out of the question for the time being, and listened while Stark berated the poor businessman. "What the fuck! Seriously, man, a rando in a bar? Is this how you roll? Is there any chance at all you're clean?"
Was he blind? Loki felt he had to step in. "Let him alone, St- Tony." (He wasn't allowed to say "Stark" in clubs). "We already got the vomit off, and we'll clean him up the rest of the way after we're-"
"Diseases!" Stark yelled over him. "I'm talking about diseases, you idiot alien fuck!"
Oh. Now that he thought about it, Stark had reprimanded him once already for failing to use the little penis-protectors he carried in his wallet. He had hardly paid attention to the lecture, though; that day he'd been too busy worrying about having told some drunk woman his true name.
The businessman insisted that he never fucked bareback in public bathrooms, which Loki personally knew to be a lie, and insisted that he didn't have any diseases. Stark threw him out with a lot of foul language and then dragged Loki out into the dawn, ignoring his pleas about being hammered and blue-balled and really in no shape to face the day.
Tony waited a day to allow for sobering up, and then marched into the living room all ready to lay down the law. "Bambi. We need to talk. About sex."
Loki put his book down and waited.
"Specifically, unsafe sex. I know you've heard it all already, okay, except this weekend I found you doing it again – even worse than last time. Unsafe sex in a sketchy gay bar is pretty much the unsafest sex there is."
"I know. You've explained it. I won't do it again."
"You said that last time. Apparently promises all go out the window when Little Bambi is doing the thinking."
Loki swallowed. "You're saying you don't want me fornicating with mortals anymore."
"What? No! No no no. I am not trying to cramp your style." Heaven forbid. "It's just really important that you don't catch a disease or knock a girl up in a club bathroom or something, okay. It's really important that you wear a rubber. And I don't think you get it."
"I do get it." Wary as hell.
"Yeah – intellectually, maybe. But you don't get it. In here." Tony tapped himself on the arc reactor. "The idea of going raw needs to be an instant instinctive no for you. My first thought was I'd achieve that by showing you one of those sex-ed slide shows with all the gonorrhea pictures, but that voiceover still haunts my nightmares and I don't think I could sit through another hearing of the phrase thick cheesy discharge without throwing up."
"What?" Loki blinked rapidly.
"Never mind. Bottom line is, I'm thinking I'll try and do it with the cane instead. I can probably make a pretty bad impression if I put my mind to it, right?"
Loki's frown deepened. He was quiet a minute. Then: "I don't understand. All this," he gestured around vaguely, "Because you want to beat me?"
For once he didn't correct the terminology. "Yeah – but I don't mean like our usual. I mean actual pain and bruises." You know, the kind of thing you were afraid of when you first came here. The kind of thing I promised I'd never do.
The crease in Loki's brow smoothed out. "I see. All this because you want to beat me." He gave one of those sharp not-smiles of his. "You know you don't need my consent for that." Before Tony could jump in he held up his hands and added: "But to the extent you're asking: of course you have it."
Relieved that a punishment would be the end of the matter – that the women, let alone the excursions more generally, weren't in jeopardy – Loki got into position without any complaining.
"Undies too, this time," Stark said, plucking at his boxers. "I need to see what I'm doing. And you get the paddle for warm-up, because otherwise I'll feel too bad to even go through with it."
Loki laughed; he'd surely feel differently once the pain started but for now he was only curious. "After all this build-up, you'd best not disappoint me."
The blows began, dull and steady. "I guarantee that of whatever you're feeling half an hour from now, disappointment will be the least of your problems."
Stark sounded serious, but whatever he meant to do couldn't possibly hold a candle to getting bludgeoned and flayed and having his teeth smashed out.
Of course, all that had happened while he had his powers and his usual resiliency, while now...
It occurred to him suddenly that his confidence might be unwarranted. "Stark," he spoke up suddenly. "I've never-" But he stopped himself in time. How pathetic! "Never mind."
Stark hesitated a moment, probably considering whether to press him, but finally just said: "Kay. Here we go." He gave a brief, encouraging shoulder-rub. (And Loki hated how much he appreciated the gesture. Damn Stark for all of this.). A hand on his tailbone... and then a line of fire, bright and sudden, across the top of his thighs. "We'll be here a while. You need a break, you say so." He couldn't imagine availing himself of the opportunity to beg for a reprieve, though he supposed if it hurt enough anything was possible. "Now repeat after me: condom."
The stroke came immediately afterwards. Hard – harder than anything Stark had done to him up til today. It took a moment for the pain to register. Once it did it was awful. "Condom," he said, jaw tight.
"Condom." Crack.
"Condom!" This time he tried to speak before the pain flooded him, but that was worse – it came out all high and strangled.
"I always need to wear a condom."
He felt himself jerk hard against the couch. So much for holding still. "I- always- need to wear a condom." He tried to catch his breath. "Even when I'm not fucking?"
Stark swatted him by hand, lightly. "Wiseass."
"Sorry," he laughed, arching into it. Why was he lightheaded?
"You're not breathing," Stark answered, which made him wonder if he'd said it aloud. "You need to breathe when you get hit. Deep breaths – it's supposed to help."
He nodded – and squared up, ready now and grateful for the break. Even more grateful that he hadn't had to ask for it.
"I always wrap the willy." Crack.
"I- ah-. I always wrap the willy."
"Bag the monkey." Crack.
The what? "Bag the- the monkey."
"Because only a fool doesn't package his tool." Crack.
Really? They were reduced to rhymes like children? "Only a-. Gods. Only a fool doesn't package his tool."
"Little Loki always wears a raincoat." Crack.
"Stark!" Finally the absurdity was too much; he turned to glare over his shoulder. Tried to breathe through the fire that engulfed him.
Stark was unrepentant. "I know more dick-related euphemisms than anyone you've ever met, and you're gonna hear every one of them. Face front."
He did as he was told. Wanted to ask for a break, except this early on Stark would probably only laugh at him.
"Bambi, you need a second?"
I could kiss you. He nodded. "Thanks. And... can we dispense with the idiotic dialog?"
"We most certainly cannot," Stark said cheerfully. Let him breathe a minute, and then poked him with the cane. "Ready? Okay. No glove, no love." Crack.
They had gone through forty or so stupid dick phrases (and he wasn't running out!) before Loki finally broke position and reached back to clutch at the scarlet-purple patches of welts. He was digging his fingers in, squeezing – how could that possibly help? "Sorry," he gasped. "A moment – sorry."
"Take your time." He hiked Loki's shirt up so that it wouldn't brush against the ouches, and noticed that his back was clammy with sweat. "You okay?"
Loki nodded. "But if you plan to go on much longer you may need to restrain me."
If a stubborn warrior god couldn't hold still for it, it was probably too much. "No, we're almost done. Already looks pretty nasty, honestly." In a couple of places he could see blood.
"Compared to what? I've seen bones poking through my skin on more than one occasion." He sucked in a long breath and let go of himself. "All right. I'm ready."
"Okay. So, to recap: when some skank – or worse, some dude skank – wants you to dive in, you say: Hold on babe, I like it safe." Crack.
"Ah-hh." It took him a moment. "Hold on; I like it safe."
"So lemme get a condom." Crack.
"Ah! Let me... get. A condom."
"...Because you probably have some skank disease and I don't want to catch it. Just kidding, don't say that. Breathe." He waited til Loki breathed and nodded. "Last one," he declared. "You tell me what you're going to say. Own words, Bambi. Go for it."
"Very well. Let me think." He took a few minutes. "All right." He cleared his throat. "My sweet skank," he began.
Crack.
"Ah shit shit ah ow," he babbled airily. Then: "All right. All right! What I'll do is take it out and say: pardon me, but I don't go into battle without armor."
That really pleased Stark, as he'd expected – Stark laughed as he delivered the final (brutal) stroke, then followed him down to the ground to press a big theatrical kiss to his sweaty hair. "Fan-fricking-tastic."
He wished he had it in him to crack another joke, but he was drowning in pain and just trying to stay afloat.
"You're all done," Stark said, more seriously. "Just relax, take it easy, you're okay. All done."
He flipped Stark the bird and then stayed where he was, on his knees with his forehead pressed to the carpet, clutching at the injured area with both hands. Time passed. He wasn't sure how much. Eventually Stark spoke up again. "I don't think the grabbing actually helps."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion."
"Me neither, but since when does that stop me. So. You planning on getting up off the floor any time soon?"
"I'm considering it." His voice had steadied a bit, which was good. He shuddered – freezing, suddenly. Soaked with old cold sweat.
"If you're not up for walking, I can get a suit to come carry you around."
Was he serious? "I'm not an invalid." Loki ordered himself to stand up at once, which he did with a great deal of unsteadiness, and was obliged to lean on the (hateful, hateful punishment) couch for balance. "Mortal, maybe – which is terrible by the way; I don't know how you live like this – but not an invalid."
"Come on." Stark grabbed him under the arm, surprisingly strong, bearing what felt like half his weight with the grip. "Bed."
Loki let himself be taken down the hall and dumped facedown onto his bed.
"Off with the wet shirt," Stark ordered, but Loki wasn't feeling much like complying with any more orders right now, so in the end Stark took scissors and cut it away. Soft blankets settled on his legs – up only to the knees – and over his back. "Let's, uh, let that air out a little."
"Mm."
"Damn, it looks-... Damn. I'll delete this, but: check it out." A soft whirring click, and then Stark was holding out his phone to show a picture.
Loki looked it over critically. "I believe I had worse once or twice as a child. Still, it was a real beating," he acknowledged. "I'm surprised you had that in you."
"Tolja," Stark said. Then the defiance melted away. "Uh... you okay?"
There was no serious injury. The pain was already becoming less fierce and urgent. And now that he wasn't freezing, he was beginning to feel pleasantly lethargic instead. "Of course."
"We okay?"
It took him a moment to figure out what he meant by the question. "Don't be a fool."
Only a fool doesn't package his tool, he thought immediately. And then: I should kill him for searing stupidity like that into my brain.
TBC.
Hope you're enjoying so far. Really appreciate comments!