Because my readers are the best readers, because of just the sheer warmth and support and reassurances I got last chapter, I'm giving you this one now. And the next, actually, so wait 5 minutes. Because, guys, you are really the best. I'm so glad I haven't pissed you all off. I might with Steve though, but to be fair, I've figured it's been about a year and I've figured he'd have explored the new body, and I've never taken him for bumbling and confused totally naive boy that some do. I mean, look how suave he's been this story.
Also because today is Tuesday. We began on a Tuesday, Tuesday is Steve's favourite day and Loki's least detested day. I'm all about the silly sweet gestures with this fic, obviously. (Yes, I've been planning to end this fic on a Tuesday, just like I planned my start falling on a Tuesday.)
Warnings: long. This chapter is so long.
Oh. And smut.
Smut. Warning.
Enjoy. :)
Chapter 13
Steve had mentioned, several times, what was going on for his birthday to Loki, but Loki had smiled and nodded and seemed to think that it was all quite fine, that there was absolutely no need for Loki to be involved at all. Steve keeps his disappointment to himself; after all, Loki was once a god, and clearly doesn't put much stock in birthdays the way the rest of them do, at least not if how Loki had not had any plans for his own birthday was anything to go by. If Loki had asked, he would find a reason or way to avoid the rest and do what he actually wants to, which is spend the day with Loki.
Loki does not ask.
Loki does not say anything about it.
That hurts a bit and it's the first time Steve has really been bothered by something about Loki (that does not involve Loki's first trip to Earth). And if it's the only thing, well, maybe he should count himself lucky.
XXXXXX
The celebrations are not, by any means, bad. And if he flushes and seems less than interested by the stripper that Tony hired, well, the others are probably putting it down to him being from the forties and not because he has very little interest in the opposite sex. Steve isn't stupid—he knows they think him a blushing virgin, but it is a good enough cover for what he actually is since he doesn't want them knowing he's of a different persuasion, and quite actively of a different persuasion.
So if pretending to be a virgin lets him continue in peace, he'll do it.
At least the beer is good.
"Do you have somewhere you'd rather be?"
Steve doesn't jump despite not having heard Natasha show up; he's gotten used to how she almost appears places.
"This is as good a place as any to be," he tells her and takes another swallow of his beer. It's good beer; he doesn't know who picked it out, but it has notes of raspberry in it and isn't particularly heavy on the hops.
"I suppose, if you didn't have any other plans." She crosses her arms and leans against the bar next to him. He is watching Tony and Bruce arguing rather heatedly over something, words with sixteen and seventeen syllables involved.
"I didn't have any other plans," he admits.
"But you were wishing you did. Are they nice?"
He looks over at her, raises an eyebrow. He doesn't miss that she doesn't use 'she'—and if anyone was going to figure it out first, it would be Natasha. She glances over at him and gives him a flick of a reassuring smile.
"You've been absent a bit more often than usual from weekly meetings. And I'm not going to tell anyone, unless you don't cheer up. In which case I'll send Clint to jump on your bed again."
"I don't live in the Tower."
"Exactly," and she smiles like a snake. Steve can't help but chuckle a bit at that.
"They are. Just not big on birthdays, I guess." She is not watching Tony and Bruce; her eyes are following someone in the crowd of people in the rented out ballroom. When Steve looks, he can't quite spot who she is watching.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."
Steve blinks at her as she leaves, then there's a hand that he knows sliding into his, familiar fingers twining and Loki is tugging, a wicked smile on his lips.
"Let's go," Loki whispers in the shell of his ear, breath cool and sending a shiver down his spine. "You did this to me," he adds, as if he needs to remind Steve.
(Steve puts aside the thought that Natasha has seen Loki, because Natasha has said nothing to anyone and has promised she won't if he cheers up. It's so easy to cheer up with Loki here, who he had thought (traitorously) would do nothing for this day, whose eyes are glittering with anticipation and cheer and something anxious, so Natasha will not tell anyone since he is unable to stop his smile or the confirming squeeze of Loki's hand that, yes, Loki is here on his birthday.)
Steve glances back at the rest, sees Natasha who gives a smile and a shoo motion while the rest of the team is oblivious, then looks at Loki, whose tugging gently on his hand, pulling him along, and watches the particular line of Loki's spine as he navigates through the crowd.
Steve has always preferred lines to curves.
XXXXXX
Steve is a very patient boyfriend, and he is willing to admit that might actually be part of having grown up in the forties. Sometimes, he occasionally thinks he should be named a saint or that the team is right that he's too good—usually this is after he and Loki end up twined together on the couch and the only thing he can really think is how much he wants Loki and all the ways that he wants him, usually with Loki's lips a bruised red and glistening while Loki's eyes are half-lidded and glittering, Loki's black hair mussed and like spilled ink, a slowly blooming bruise on the perfect line of Loki's neck, and the oh-so-maddening feel of only some pants between them. Because instead of getting angry or feeling resentful (though he will admit he certainly does feel mournful and does not want to), he backs off.
Loki, he realizes, does not actually want to go further than those rather intense sessions of kisses and exploring hands and utterly maddening teasing.
And it's not that Loki has said that; he doesn't have to. There's very little either of them really have to say, which is perhaps one of Steve's favourite things about Loki. But it's in his eyes, this faint flicker of something uncertain whenever Steve's hands move to certain places (his pants zipper generally one of them). Steve knows he could ask and Loki would likely say 'yes,' but Steve does not want a compromised yes. He doesn't want Loki to say yes because Steve wants him to (though Steve does want Loki to say 'yes' and desperately so, especially when they are a tangled mess on the couch, movie forgotten). He wants Loki to ask, either explicitly or in his sideways way, to go farther.
It is like when something upsets Loki; Steve figures that when Loki actually wants to go past lips and exploring hands into actual sex, he will say as much to Steve or indicate it (not that Steve won't ask just to make sure if Loki tries to slip by with nonverbal, because this is, he senses, much too important an issue to Loki to let slide without a definitive and resounding 'yes, Steve, I want you inside me.' Or 'I want inside you.' Steve is willing to forgo being picky for Loki.)
Steve doesn't need sex to be happy with someone and he's perfectly okay with waiting as long as he has to. He just has to have a stern mental talking to himself occasionally, that's all, and if he's perhaps been a bit more attentive to himself in the shower, well, Loki is more than worth the cost of longer showers if it gives Steve the means to resist pressuring Loki into anything he doesn't fully, totally, one hundred percent want.
He has long since figured he will be waiting a while and is okay with that.
So when they end up tangled on the floor of the beach house Loki has spirited him off to, the (admittedly small) part of his mind that gets to keep functioning is already looking for and calculating when to pull back, even as his hands undo the buttons down the front of Loki's shirt and he kisses and drags his teeth along the line of Loki's breastbone, Loki's fingers gripping his hair and Loki making these tiny little noises that are driving Steve absolutely insane. He is already watching for the hesitation that lets him know to back off as Loki's back arches up off the floor and he slides one hand along his spine, gently digs in with his fingertips and drags on the spot that makes Loki shiver and claw at Steve's shoulders, as he bites gently before pressing kisses to the delicate line of Loki's throat, as he twines his other hand in Loki's hair just enough that it hurts and Loki's hips grind up into his own. He sees that flicker as his fingers ghost along the inside of Loki's waistband while he gently presses one thigh against Loki's erection and smiles a bit, because he wants so much to keep going, because nothing is quite like the feel of Loki's nails clawing down his arms.
But Steve stops, tries to get his breath back under control. Loki is biting his lip (maddening), then tugs Steve down into another kiss. It's hard not to be surprised—twice tonight that Loki has done the initiating—but he makes himself pull back after a few minutes because he knows if he doesn't he's going to snap.
"Unless you want this to go further, I need a few minutes to collect myself," he says quietly, pulling away slightly, resting one hand on Loki's cheek. Loki chews his lower lip again (Steve's mind helpfully conjures the memory of Loki's teeth on his skin).
"Do you know what you're doing?" Loki blurts out suddenly and even though it's dark Steve can still see the sudden flush on Loki's face that has very little to do with passion. Steve blinks, eye brows rising. "I mean. This. Have you done this before? I. Don't answer that. Have you?"
"Yes," Steve says very slowly.
"I," Loki pauses, searches Steve's face, clearly casting about for the right words. Steve waits as patiently as he possibly can, because he does not want to put words in Loki's mouth. "I want to know. How this works. With you."
(The (admittedly small) part of his mind that is being responsible suddenly realizes why Loki's first kisses were so clumsy and why his hands so uncertain. It also points out, before the rest of Steve can destroy this moment by stating the obvious, that Loki is looking incredibly vulnerable and like he might contemplate murder if Steve makes too big a deal out of this revelation.)
Steve leans down and kisses him unhurriedly, suddenly overwhelmed with how much he loves Loki, how much he wants him; uses the kiss to very firmly ground himself, because Loki wants this with him, and he wants to nothing more, in this moment, than to introduce Loki to every possible form of pleasure that he knows and then some, until Loki is little more than a wordless mess in his arms—and if he wants to do that he's going to need some focus.
He flicks his eyes open as he pulls back just slightly, meeting Loki's eyes.
"I want to show you," he whispers softly.
Loki pushes up to meet him in another kiss, his hands sliding over Steve's bared shoulders, nails digging in, teeth almost too hard as he bites Steve's bottom lip; Steve lets himself settle against Loki again, rolls his hips roughly against Loki's and swallows down the moan that escapes Loki's lips. His fingertips leave shivers in their wake as he trails down Loki's ribs and stomach to the front of his pants, sliding his thumb beneath the waistband and teasing the skin, tracing the bone of Loki's hip. He digs his other hand back in Loki's hair, tugs so that his throat is exposed again and trails kisses down. Loki is shuddering beneath him, muscles taut and quivering with need. He nibbles thoughtfully at Loki's ear lobe, lets his breath brush against the sensitive skin and revels in the feel of Loki's fingers digging into his scalp; deftly, he undoes the button on Loki's pants, slides the zipper down and runs his hand against Loki's erection on the way back up. Loki half-whines, hips bucking into the touch and Steve chuckles.
Loki has apparently been wanting this as much as Steve.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches how Loki's face flickers, listens to the breathy not quite moans. He pushes Loki's pants down, just enough to give him easier access, and keeps stroking Loki through the silk, keeping the rhythm just out of step enough that Loki can't find it, because the ragged needy groans when Loki tries to grind up against Steve's hand when Steve is also stroking up hit a particular pitch that Steve wants to pull out of Loki over and over and over again. He thumbs the head of Loki's cock, feels how the boxers are growing damp with precum, and Loki swears and whines in the same breath, arching up, nails clawing at Steve's back and arms and ribs, fumbling with Steve's own pants.
Steve runs his thumb over the head again through the silk, leaning back so he can grab hold of Loki's wrists with his other hand and pin them to Loki's belly, all the while continuing to stroke Loki through the silk.
"Steve." Loki's pupils are blown wide in the dark, face flushed, and he wiggles, tries to press closer, tries to pull his wrists free. Steve lets him struggle but keeps hold of the wrists firmly, watching the shivers that run through Loki's shoulders. He stops stroking and bites a smile back at Loki's near sob while he undoes the button on the front of boxers. Just barely slides forefinger along the flesh of Loki's cock and Loki does sob then, sob and whine and struggle to press himself into Steve's hand. Steve just presses down more on Loki's wrists, pinning him a bit more firmly against the floor, before he pulls Loki's cock out and, using the precum as lube, begins to stroke again. He keeps pressing the pinned wrists harder into Loki's belly, uses one knee to pin open Loki's free leg, so Loki can't buck up into the movement, listens to the half-pleading noises Loki makes as he strokes, and watches Loki's face. Watches as Loki hits the back of his head against the floor, shoulders rising a little, as Loki bites down on his lip, watches as Loki teeters on the brink of letting go before twisting his hand just so. Every muscle strains against Steve pinning him down as Loki comes.
Steve drinks the sight in of Loki, stomach wet, face relaxed, and watches the rough rise and fall of Loki's chest.
He moves his knee, lets go of Loki's wrists, and feels the low buzz of pleasure in the back of his mind. Yes. Loki opens his eyes to look at Steve and electricity runs through his spine, seeing confusion and pleasure swirling together. His own erection is hard, his pants uncomfortable and too tight, but that's okay, it's what he needs right now. Keeping the gaze unbroken, he places a hand on Loki's hip, leans down, licks along Loki's stomach where the cum is pooling, and can't help but grin at the way Loki's breath hitches. Yes.
He cleans Loki's stomach with his tongue, over the span of a few agonizing minutes, let's Loki use his hands to run through his hair or along his shoulders, gently removing them when Loki tries to tug him up, before he starts to work his way lower. Ghosts his breath over Loki's half-hard erection, presses a kiss with a smile against his lover's hip when Loki lets out an high-pitched yelp. Steve slides one hand between Loki's back and floor, lifting his hips up, aided when he brushes one finger against that sweet spot by Loki's spine and Loki shudders and tries to move up and away. Pants and boxers are slid down and off, tossed… somewhere, and Steve returns, exploring the insides of Loki's legs with his fingertips, tongue, and teeth, kissing and nipping and keeping his eyes on Loki.
He finds a spot, just next to the back of Loki's left knee, that makes Loki writhe on the floor, a hiss of sharp exhale and curse reaching Steve's ears. He smiles, wraps one arm around Loki's leg so he can't move it, and starts to devote his attention to that spot, mapping it and every centimeter of skin around it, until Loki is whining and begging and swearing in equal measure when his breath isn't caught and ragged in his throat. Steve stops when he sees Loki reach for himself, kisses a quick trail up the inside of Loki's thigh until he can reach and pull the hand away, twining their fingers together. Loki is half-sitting up, resting against his other arm, and Steve smiles at him as he watches the muscles tremble in that arm.
"No, love. Not tonight, as much as the thought of watching you take care of yourself appeals."
He nips at the flesh joining hip to thigh and Loki involuntarily twitches.
"I want to take you apart myself."
He kisses along the inside of Loki's hip, not watching Loki though Loki is watching him, Loki crushing his hand.
"Have wanted to."
He ghosts breath against Loki's cock, licks a trickle of remaining cum off with the tip of his tongue, glancing up to watch how Loki's face breaks, how Loki's shields are cracking again, and feels a pulse of warm want shoot through him, pushing Steve a little closer to coming undone. Yes.
"It's my birthday," he reminds Loki, then before Loki can respond, swallows him to the hilt. Loki's face shatters, a ragged half-scream tearing from his throat. Steve can feel the bones of his hand grinding together in Loki's grip, hums around Loki's cock and Loki's supporting arm gives out, head thudding against the floor. Loki kicks feebly with one leg and Steve swirls his tongue along the underside of Loki's cock, swallows, and Loki's hips buck, another cry tearing out. Yes.
He starts to move, sliding his tongue along and around Loki as he pulls back, always swallowing him whole when he moves down, excruciatingly slow, letting Loki buck into his mouth. Loki's free hand claws at the floor, then presses to his mouth; Steve watches as Loki bites into his palm to keep from screaming again as Steve hums around his cock. Steve works slowly, steadily, despite any of Loki's twitching or begging to go faster, faster please Steve more, Loki trying to leverage himself with the leg not blocked by their entwined hands and Steve firmly pressing him back down, until finally Loki hooks that leg over Steve's shoulder.
Steve pauses only long enough to slick his free hand in the dripping wet that is Loki's cock, Loki letting out a sob for even so short a break, before Steve's mouth is back in place, tongue swirling around the head.
He watches Loki gasp, waits until Loki bucks his hips up, then slides one finger deep inside at the same time as he takes Loki entirely back into his mouth again. Loki screams, muscles clenching tight, back arching up and free hand clawing at the floor beneath them. Steve would smile if he could, feeling a bit of precum dribble and dampen his own pants; instead he starts to work at Loki's ass while he sucks. Slips a second finger in after a few minutes, reaches, curls, and drags along the spot he's looking for, until Loki is an incoherent mess of noise, twitching muscles, and bucking hips. Yes yes yes.
Loki comes the second time with his fingers digging deep into Steve's hand, yanking roughly on Steve's hair, back arched in the most perfect curve that Steve has ever seen, and Steve swallows down every last drop until the wire-tension of Loki's orgasm snaps, leaves him a near boneless sprawl on the floor. Steve pulls away, licks his lips, and watches the rise and fall of Loki's chest again, how Loki's eyelashes are fluttering against his cheekbones, and has no idea how he's managed to get harder.
He's watching Loki, thinking about how he should probably get Loki into a bed and see himself a shower before he joins. He's close, thread-like close, and his mind keeps replaying the sound of Loki's orgasms back, the sight of Loki's body writhing, the feel of Loki's hands in his hair. As Steve starts to gather Loki up, Loki's eyes open, sliding over Steve and barely able to focus. He tangles his fingers in Steve's belt loops, gripping tightly (or as tightly as he can, which is not so tight that Steve couldn't remove them), leans against Steve half-drunk on adrenaline and post-orgasm euphoria.
"No."
Loki stops to lick his lips, clearly searching for more words, and Steve blinks at where Loki's resting his forehead against Steve's shoulder, surprised, surprised enough he doesn't notice one of Loki's hands let go of a belt loop and brush down, friction a sudden sharp line in Steve's mind as Loki's hand presses clumsily against Steve's own arousal.
"Loki, I can wait," he says, cupping Loki's face so Loki is looking at him, meeting his gaze, trying to show him that this is not the end of the world and instead nearly forgetting how to breathe. Loki's eyes are barely focused but swirling full of emotions, desire, lust, love.
"No," Loki murmurs again. "I want this. You. Please, Steve, I need…." Loki trails off, breath shallow.
"I need more than spit and come," Steve manages to say.
"Bag." Loki vaguely waves towards a duffel bag that is sitting only a few yards away by the couch.
Steve gathers Loki into his arms despite any of Loki's half-murmured protests, grabs the bag, and then takes them both to the bedroom. He digs through; when he finally finds the bottle of lube and turns, Loki is half-curled on his side, dozing against a pillow, pale flesh nearly glowing against the dark sheets in the moonlight through the windows. Pressing a tender kiss against Loki's shoulder, Steve is tempted to let him sleep despite Loki's plea.
Except it wakes Loki, who rolls over and tugs Steve down into a kiss.
"Are you sure?" Steve asks when they break apart.
"Need," Loki repeats with a ragged whisper against Steve's lips, a mantra, eyes half opening and again Steve is overcome by the swirl of emotions in those depths. He had wanted Loki to break, to see more than glimpses of emotion, and if only he had known the fire he would find (he had guessed but this…). Steve feels like a moth as he stares down, half remembers words of Icarus and the sun.
He gets his pants and boxers off, the sudden air making his skin feel far too tight, almost tighter than the press of jeans did, before he pulls Loki onto his back and settles between his legs once more. Loki's eyes shimmer with interest as he studies Steve. Steve is far more gentle now, trails fingers lightly over Loki's skin and watches the ripples of tension that follow and ease in their wake, like just barely touching the surface of a lake. Languid moans slip like sighs from Loki's lips, his head easing back against the pillows and eyes half-closing, hands twisting lightly in the sheets, cock twitching in interest as Steve runs his fingers along Loki's hips. Steve pauses a moment to coat his fingers with lube, then leans down to kiss those half-parted lips, pressing a finger inside of Loki. Loki gasps, cants his hips so Steve has easier access, and Steve wraps his free arm around Loki's waist, holding him, feeling tension building back up and how Loki is already trembling.
He strokes the spot on Loki's back in time to his finger thrusting inside of Loki, keeps pressing kisses to Loki's mouth, trailing them to his ear and throat, following them to his favourite curve where neck joins shoulder, then back to Loki's lips. Slowly, slowly, he adds a second finger, waits a moment for Loki's half-whine to fade, before he begins to thrust again, Loki's hips moving in time, Loki's back arching and their chests pressed close together. He can't stop watching Loki's face, how those eyes are so distant and raw, how they occasionally sharpen when Loki meets Steve's gaze and Steve feels like he might burn to death for the love and desire he sees there. Yes.
Steve adds a third finger and Loki's hips buck against his hand; a low ragged moan and something not English spills over his lips. Steve watches and listens as Loki keeps whispering and moaning, the words incomprehensible but their intent clear. Steve's cock is hard and heavy and he wants Loki, badly, but Loki is still so tight against his fingers, still whining when Steve presses in, those long long legs splayed open. Loki is god-like like this, eyes glazed, foreign words on his tongue, skin moon touched, face utterly open.
"I love you," Steve tells him roughly, barely able to hold himself together.
Loki's eyes sharpen at the words, focus on Steve. His hands leave the bedsheets, wrap tightly around Steve's shoulders. One hand reaches for and grabs Steve's cock, slides along it, and he's left gasping, fumbling, Loki's eyes near blazing. Steve can hardly see anything except Loki's eyes, realizes distantly that he's shaking, muscles screaming for release.
"Nú nú ég þarf að þóknast nú, ég þarf að sýna þér," Loki begs, hips rolling up against Steve, thumb slipping along the precum leaking from Steve's cock. Steve slips his fingers out of Loki, steadies himself on that hand for a few moments. Loki lets go of Steve's cock, wraps that hand back around Steve's neck, and Steve is nearly reduced to nothing as Loki growls deep in the back of his throat, slicked crease rubbing up against Steve. Steve slides his arm from behind Loki's back and grabs hold of his hip, positions himself, and presses in, finally, finally, yes.
Loki is slick and hot, tight; it takes everything in Steve to not jerk his hips forward and deeply as possible in one thrust. With his other arm, he rests on the bed, muscles shaking and straining, presses his forehead against Loki's collarbone. He eases himself in as slowly as he can, trying to gauge how fast to go by Loki's noises, but it's impossible, Loki's voice breaking over and over, hitting a pitch that drags along Steve's spine like fire and makes him want more, now, faster yes.
He lets go of Loki's hip and catches one of Loki's knees, spreading him wider, sinking the rest of the way in and vision swimming. He presses a kiss to the skin beneath his lips, holding himself still, Loki quivering and wordless for the moment. He rolls his hips and Loki's nails drag into his back, broken stuttering words spilling into the air again, and any remaining control to go slow and easy is utterly lost as Loki makes that noise in the back his throat again as his teeth dig into Steve's shoulder. Yes.
He rides Loki into the bed, presses himself as close to his lover's skin as he can. At some point one of Loki's hand tangle in his and Steve grips it tightly, has to restrain himself before he crushes the fragile bones. It is rough and graceless; Steve shifts slightly at one point, brushes against Loki's prostate, and Loki cries out, voice hoarse and half gone. Steve does it again, again, feeling Loki clench tightly around him each time, listens to the wrecked sobs and foreign words against his neck. Feels Loki shudder into a dry orgasm, everything tight and fire, burning, his vision going white just before he hits release, yes yes yes yesyes.
He collapses on top of Loki, muscles twitching beneath his skin. He's spent, as if he'd just spent all day chasing down a villain, but the bone deep warmth is so much more satisfying. It takes him a few minutes before he realizes he's probably crushing his lover, so he pulls out and away, rolls onto his side, and feels his heart nearly break when Loki opens his eyes with a half-cry on his lips, broken glass loss in those eyes. He pulls Loki over to him, wraps him tightly in his arms, and manages to tug the rumpled blanket at the bottom of the bed up to drape over them lightly. Loki is boneless (entirely) in his arms, and Steve runs his fingers through the rat's nest that used to be Loki's hair, humming lightly, before he presses a kiss to Loki's forehead. Loki is watching him with half-open eyes; Steve keeps humming and has managed to mostly tame Loki's hair with his fingers by the time they slide shut, Loki's breath soft and even against his skin. Steve watches him for a little while, feeling his eyes get heavier by the second, but he resists the pull of sleep as long as he possibly can.
Eventually, Steve falls asleep, arms wrapped around Loki tightly, as if afraid when he wakes his lover will have vanished, fire behind those eyes burned out to ash.