A/N: Here, to make Monday more bearable XD
Thank you all for the response (of any kind), and a special thanks to Inthara for helping me out with some details.
Next chapter will be longer, I swear. But this one is, um, one of the reasons the story is rated M. Enjoy ^^
October 23rd
We loved in a time before the fall
Welcome to the arms of solitude
Beneath us the heat that hearts exude
Is this really heaven?
We'd fight with the gods for our dreams
Where paradise falls eternity screams
Die Welt - ein Tor*
u tausend Wuesten stumm und kalt
Wer das verlor, was du verlorst,
Macht nirgends halt
Crystallized as starlight
Lost in paradise
~Sarah Brightman: How Can Heaven Love Me
Loki was gorgeous in moonlight, his silky skin shimmering like the finest pearls, the blue-ish hue to his hair, dark eyes, half veiled by shadows, in stark contrast with the pronounced paleness of his face. An angel and a demon; dark as night, sweet as sin.
Tony pushed himself into a sitting position.
"You haunt me," he half whispered, half murmured. "You won't leave me alone, you won't let me have my peace. Must you tempt me so?"
Loki stood, still and silent. Even like that, passive beyond compare, he was irresistible. A temptation. The temptation.
Tony beckoned to him with a single finger, and the god came, like a ghost, to the bed, doing nothing but obeying the wordless command even when Tony stood up and ran his knuckles down Loki's neck; his skin was smooth, and soft, and inviting.
"Beautiful," Tony breathed over Loki's collarbone and pushed a strand of hair away from those to-die-for cheekbones. His thumb traces Loki's lip.
"You'll be all mine. To make it up for my lost peace …" He pushed the thumb past those soft lips, past the teeth, and pulled it out again, smearing saliva over Loki's chin. Going lower still, his fingers settled on the trembling pulse, partly encircling the pale column of the god's throat.
Tony wanted to see more of that smooth skin, wanted to feel it, needed to feel it.
"You'll be all mine," he repeated, the whisper sending shivers down his own back. As fast as he could, he unbuttoned Loki's shirt, pushed it off his shoulders, and then his palms slid over slender sides.
Loki's breathing hitched, and Tony wanted. He was practically devouring the pale body before him with his gaze. Suddenly, all of his blood rushed down to his groin. He wanted to mark this skin as his own, mark Loki, he wanted …
Tony's hands found Loki's shoulders and slowly pressed downwards. There was no resistance. Tony sank down, too, coming to sit on the bed again, and swallowed.
Loki looked sinful like that, on his knees, one shoulder bathed in moonlight, hair scattered over his clavicles, the ends curling on his chest, and though shadows hid his face Tony couldn't find it in himself to complain.
He had a god kneeling between his legs. The thought alone made him shudder with lust. His erection throbbed.
"Silvertongue, they call you." He stroked Loki's clavicle, ran his fingers down to roll a nipple between them. Loki trembled, and Tony was going to go crazy if he remained untouched for another moment—
A hand ghosted over his crotch, and Tony moaned. He felt Loki tug at his pyjama bottoms, and lifted his hips so they and the boxers could be pulled down. He wasn't sure where they ended, but he couldn't care less. His fingers found their way in Loki's hair and pulled, and then the god's mouth was on him, and fuck, did that feel good, so very good. Mind-blowing. Tony felt a tongue dance around the head, then follow the vein on the underside to the hilt and up again.
Small noises he would never admit having made escaped his throat, fingers tugging at Loki's inky hair. Tony's eyes slid closed.
This was heaven. It couldn't be anything else. Nothing had ever—oh. Loki sucked, licked, occasionally nibbled on the sensitive skin, driving Tony crazy, and the man fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets. He bucked his hips, needing, wanting, moaning shamelessly (so good, so good, so good). Suddenly, Loki's mouth was all around him, and didn't—ohhh—god's have gag reflexes?
Tony was probably writhing on the sheets. Who cared. He nearly saw stars—scratch that, he saw stars, he saw a whole new fucking galaxy, and he … He … Loki's throat was so warm and so tight, and Tony … Tony was going to … He was going to …
Stars exploded. Pleasure shook his whole body, but Loki didn't pull away, and Tony kept coming and coming until it became too much, too much pleasure, too much pain, too much everything. He was reduced to a boneless, shivering mess while the world started to turn black.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Loki's mouth had slipped away.
Sunrays caressed his face. A familiar masculine voice with British accent announced the date and the weather, and—
"Mute."
Tony blinked. And yawned. Turning onto his back, he was perfectly ready to doze off again. He had two more hours until the board meeting, and he reasoned sleeping was a better way to spend them than dragging himself around, patting his cats, and throwing longing glances at the bar. Oh, and remembering Loki's death all over again.
Loki.
Loki.
Tony growled in frustration, fist slamming down on the mattress.
"Fuck."
He did not need that.
Not that he hadn't dreamed about him before. Not that none of the dreams had been disturbing; how many times had he caressed Loki's face and tasted his lips? Ran his fingers through his hair? But he'd never done anything like that.
Oh, the blow job had been fantastic. Loki bathed in moonlight, his lean body, his lips, his …
No. Bad Tony. That was what those stupid dreams brought him; fantasies. Stupid, frustrating fantasies. He didn't even know where they'd come from. But they were here, disturbing, and firmly settled in his mind, and he wanted Loki now, thank you very much, stupid dreams, but could not have him.
Empty fantasies were all he'd got. Some blurry dreams. And now that, a dream that had felt entirely too real. How good it had been to go with it, to enjoy while he didn't know he was sleeping.
He growled once more, pushing the covers aside. A cold shower was in order. Very cold.
He had no idea how he was supposed to get through the meeting without having his thoughts wander in the wrong direction. Although, every direction that ended with Loki was wrong. Yet somehow the god seemed to be the one thing all his thoughts led to.
Tony dropped his pyjamas.
Wasn't his life just great?
He still had no purpose.
A/N: *The approximate translation would be something like that:
The world - a door
To thousand deserts, silent and cold
Who lost what you lost
Stops nowhere
I know you're all just dying to review, so please, don't let anything hold you back ^^