A/N: I've been holding off on writing this chapter for a while, but I think it's finally time. Let me know what you think.
And just a reminder, there won't be a new chapter for a while. But that new chapter, when it does come, will have them dealing with the other Avengers.
Disclaimer: Characters are owned by Marvel
Atlantis is beginning to feel more and more like a prison. Loki knows Namor is having him followed, noting where he goes and with whom he speaks. The god would be doing the same thing, of course, if the roles were reversed. That knowledge doesn't make him feel any better, though.
Like Namor, the other Atlanteans have swimmer's bodies – broad chests and muscular shoulders and legs. Unlike Namor who is half human, they are blue. It is not the deep blue of the Jutenheim. It is a paler blue with a hint of green, almost a teal color, and their markings are white, all of which contribute to Loki being able to abide these creatures whose color reminds him of his true parentage.
And did he mention that they are all underwater? Not underwater as in a bubble beneath the sea with recirculating air. No, water is everywhere, in every chamber except his own. That is why he never opens his door. It's easier to magic himself over the threshold than to continually remove the water that floods in every time the damn door opens.
Sometimes Loki conjures up a breathing apparatus when he has to leave his room, and sometimes he just gives himself gills. There is no alternative to having to adjust his eyes, though. The ocean at that depth is too dark. But he refuses to swim. He walks, thank you very much.
Yes, Atlantis is very much like a dark, watery prison. It's one of the many reasons he loves feeling the burn on his arm whenever Steve summons him. He thinks it might be a major contributing factor in his growing emotional attachment to the human. At least, that's what he tells himself. Although if it were not for the human, he'd probably be as far away from Midgard as possible.
He is not summoned back the evening after Steve offers himself. He is not summoned back the day after that one. (Friday, the Midgardians call it.) During that time, Loki thinks and makes plans. How does he deal with Thanos? How does he save Asgard from all of the fools who would rule her? Well, that's an impossible task. So he limits himself to those not of Asgardian descent, which unfortunately includes himself. Though, to be honest, he still does not really want to rule her. He only wants to prove that he can and that he can far better than Thor.
It is a slow effort, especially when his thoughts and remembrances keep returning to his lover. Loki shakes his head when this happens. He must concentrate on the important things. Thanos. The name always leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps he should let the insane creature have Asgard. Let him deal with the populace of Odin-and-Thor-loving sycophants.
There is a lot of planning happening within Atlantis as well. The next time Namor requests a conversation, the King wishes to know about the city Loki attacked and about the other land places he's seen. Loki tells him of the tall buildings made of windows, of the streets that contain cars, of the humans and their weaknesses. That is how the god spends his Friday.
On Saturday, as he is in his room practicing a bit of sorcery, the familiar burning sensation crosses over his left arm. A smile forms. He uncovers his arm to reveal the message. Please come. It is the second time the Captain has used 'please' in his summons. Loki is unsure how he feels about that.
He looks at his clothes and notices that he has recreated the grey pajama pants and white undershirt he usually borrows from Steve. This will not do. Black slacks and a red dress shirt are far better, and he transforms his attire before going to the artist's apartment. He completes his look with a black tie and black suspenders.
Steve is leaning against a wall wearing his Captain America pants and a royal blue long-sleeved undershirt. He looks a little tired but smiles when the god appears.
"Rough day?" Loki asks.
"You could say that. But it's better now that you're here."
"Any casualties?"
"Nah. It was just a light skirmish. Natasha and I handled it."
"So it's "Natasha'."
"Jealous?" Steve asks as he begins to walk to Loki, the movement of his muscles both effortless and seductive.
"Do I have reason to be?"
"Nope," he replies stopping directly in front of his lover. His eyes focus on the god's lips. They kiss. Steve nudges Loki's mouth open and begins slowly exploring the inside of it.
After finally pulling away, the soldier deliberately asks, "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. One hundred percent," Loki says.
His meaning is not lost on Steve. "Good. I was hoping I'd get to have you today."
The God of Mischief says his next words slowly. They drip with sensuality. "I am yours, Darling, any way you want me."
The human smiles sweetly. His hand reaches out, pulls at one of the suspender straps, and lets it go. It slaps against the gods chest. Steve's eyes sparkle.
"Was there something in particular you wished of me?"
The soldier slowly shakes his head then stops. "Well, I was hoping to bed you at some point."
Loki gives his most seductive smile. "Whenever you wish, Darling."
Steve takes his lover's head in his hands, his fingers burying themselves in the dark hair, and gives him another slow kiss.
Loki pulls away to catch his breath. "Any art project?"
"Nope." Steve pulls off his blue shirt then pulls on the god's suspenders playfully and lets them snap into place.
"You are enjoying that far too much."
"I like them." He loosens his lover's tie then drops the piece of fabric on the ground. Next he carefully undoes the top button of the red shirt. He kisses the small bit of flesh at the base of the throat. The sound of Loki's breath catching encourages Steve to continue.
One by one the buttons are undone and gentle kisses placed on the skin they covered.
Loki can't breathe. "Do you not wish to hurt me?" The only answer he receives is another soft kiss. Blue eyes, open and sincere, appear before him. He trembles as Steve's hands slide the suspender straps from his shoulders. And as the soldier's hands slide beneath the shirt and guide it off of his body, Loki feels his defenses begin to crack. "Steve."
The artist gives a soft kiss. "Hush, Kitten." He takes Loki's hand and leads him to the bed. He makes the god sit before kneeling to remove his lover's shoes and socks. He sits on the bed and removes his own.
Loki tries again. "Steve, I would feel more comfortable if-" He's cut off by a firm kiss.
"Hush, Kitten," the soldier says before kissing him again, slowly lowering the god's back onto the bed. He runs his hands down Loki's chest and unfastens the black trousers.
A sharp pain to his bottom lip makes Steve pull back. Loki sees the disappointment in his eyes and feels suddenly guilty. But he had to do something. The lips come towards him again and expertly open his mouth, his soul, his very existence. And when a gentle hand caresses his manhood, he gasps and shudders.
Soft lips leave him before the god feels a tug on his trousers. He lifts his ass automatically, his head trying to focus on what is happening. He's naked. He's being gently nudged to where his head is on a pillow and his legs are splayed out. Loki comes to his senses long enough to watch the soldier undress then join him on the bed.
The first caress is almost more painful than all of the cuts and cigarette burns, but it isn't pleasant. It hurts. It hurts in a way that Loki does not want to feel. And as Steve gently kisses his throat and chest, he forces his mind back to the lashes, the burns, the cuts.
Loki can feel his body responding. He tries to tell himself that it's the memories of the pain that's doing it, but his lies are failing. And then Steve leaves him. A whimper escapes his throat uncontrollably.
Steve smiles. "I'll be right there, Kitten." And he is. He gives Loki another kiss before guiding his lover's knees up. The soft kisses continue as his lubricated finger gently strokes the god's anus. Long fingers take hold his shoulders. Loki moans into his mouth. He slips his finger inside.
There's no escape. The artist has once again pinned Loki to the here and now. Only this time the god wants to escape. He can feel another finger quietly join the one already inside him. Loki feels himself opening up, has felt himself opening to the Captain since arriving in his apartment. The third finger now entering him is just another manifestation of that.
"I want you," Loki sighs, his eyes pleading. "I need you."
Steve pulls out his fingers and gently glides himself into his lover. He keeps his movements slow, soft. Staring into those brilliant green eyes, the artist is mesmerized by the conflicting emotions within them. "My beautiful Kitten," he murmurs as Loki's legs encircle his waist.
The god wants more of his lover inside him. It's tearing him apart, holding him together. His entire world at this moment is Steve. Each gentle touch sends tremors through his body. Each kiss breaks another defense. "Please," he moans just before the artist sweeps against his prostrate, making him moan louder.
Steve continues his slow, deep thrusts. He's never felt so close to anyone, and he wonders if this is new for Loki, too. Based on the god's reactions, this appears to be a first-time experience for both of them. And even as his lover's moans spur him to move faster, deeper, he makes sure he's still being gentle. He doesn't want to hurt his Kitten, his beautiful, distrustful, wounded Kitten.
"Steve, please," the god moans as tears begin to prick his eyes. He feels it coming, can already tell it's going to be different. His muscles are beginning to tense in anticipation. His body begins to writhe and undulate against his lover.
The artist can't get close enough. He deepens his thrusts, presses his chest against the god. His moans join Loki's as his eyes clothes for a moment. He forces them open again. He wants to watch Loki come, wants to see the expression in his eyes. He watches the green irises as he feels both their bodies tense.
There is no escaping Steve's eyes, Steve's touch, Steve's fucking tenderness. Loki wants it, all of it. He also wants to close his eyes but can't. And then he's there at the cusp, and he's tumbling over, falling, falling into ecstasy. His body shudders. He feels his lover shuddering, too, as they continue to gaze into each other, and it's so beautiful.
Tears fall from green eyes.
They allow the silence to envelop them. And the tears continue to fall.
"Kitten? Are you okay?"
"I hate you," a soft voice says.
"No you don't," Steve replies.
Loki's lip trembles. "I do. I hate you. I hate you for this. Why? Why would you do this to me?"
Steve runs a hand through dark hair. "I just wanted to show you how I feel."
The soldier is still inside of him, filling him, reminding him of what they just experienced together. "Get off me."
Steve smiles. "Well, I would, but first you have to let me go."
Loki's confusion turns into surprise when he realizes his hands are still on the strong shoulders and his legs haven't unwrapped themselves from around the soldier. He does nothing for a moment as he mentally tries to reassemble himself. It isn't working. Slowly he lets Steve go.
He can feel his lover leave him, hears the condom going into the trash, and senses when Steve lies down next to him. Loki feels empty, and he turns to his side, his back to the soldier. He feels an arm wrap around him, a body press against him, a kiss being placed on his shoulder.
"I can't love you," Loki tells him. "I won't."
"I'm not asking you to," Steve quietly explains. "I'm not a complete idiot, Loki. I know you're using me."
"We're using each other."
"Sure, yeah, we're using each other." He's not sure what to say after that.
"Why?" Loki asks.
Steve is confused. "Why are we using each other?"
"No." The god hesitates. He feels another tear escape. "Why did you make love to me?" He feels a kiss, warm and firm against his shoulder.
"Because I wanted to. You said this was about what I wanted. Whatever I wanted we would do. I wanted to make love to you. I wanted to know what that felt like. I wanted…I wanted all of you…not just the bits you were willing to give." He runs a hand through Loki's hair. "You can't tell me you didn't like it, Kitten. You can't tell me you didn't feel something."
"You touch me, and my body reacts." He echoes his words from days before.
Steve's voice is low, knowing. "It wasn't just your body. I've tied you up. I've hurt you. I've ordered you around. But this was the first time I've ever seen you vulnerable. This was the first time you were truly mine."
Another tear. "I hate you."
"You're staying the night," the soldier tells him. "We'll have dinner, maybe watch some t.v. And you're staying the night."
"And if I refuse?"
"You can't. You're mine. And I want you to stay the night. And if I want to make love to you again, I will." Steve decides to give the god a little hope. "But if you're a good Kitten, I might give you a little pain."
Loki remains silent for a moment, trying to understand everything that has come to pass. And suddenly, a moment of clarity comes. Is this what he wanted all along? Had he always intended to give himself completely and utterly to the Captain? All he knows is that this isn't love, not in the traditional sense. It's stronger, darker, more intense. It brings something more than happiness, more than belonging. The tears slowly continue, but the tiniest of smiles forms on Loki's lips. "Thank you, Darling," he says. "Thank you."
Steve gently wipes the god's cheek. "You're welcome, Kitten." His hand runs down Loki's arm until their fingers intertwine. There's so much more he wants to say, but he doesn't have the words. He decides he'll draw a picture instead. He'll wait until the god is asleep, and then he'll draw. And when Loki sees it, maybe they'll both understand.