Sorry for the long silence. My sister, the member of my family who was sick, died last Sunday just after midnight. Her funeral was Saturday, so I didn't feel like posting yesterday either. This is a short post but it doesn't work well with the next one, so it'll have to do. I hope you like anyway.
Loki rubbed his beard again, wishing that he had followed through on his impulse to suggest the three of them shower together. Despite their status, it wasn't driven by sexual desires. Instead, he wanted to be clean and that might have been a faster route. "What are the odds," he asked, just to focus on something else, "that Stark is going to turn me over?"
"Small. He'd be in trouble too. He might try to do it and ride it out, though." Phil had a similar wish to shower, given the way he kept brushing his fingers over the shaving kit one of Stark's people had provided. He glanced at the closed bathroom door and rose quickly, picking up the kit with an air of determination. "I hope he realizes that's a lose-lose scenario."
Loki watched as Phil walked to the sink, wetting a couple of towels. "What are you doing?"
"Something a little unhygienic but I can't handle having this beard another second." Phil rubbed it and winced, then pulled off his shirt.
"Sit down." Loki flowed to his feet and opened the kit. It did hold a straight razor and the exiled prince smiled. Perfect.
Phil sat as he asked, "Why?"
"Because I want to take care of this for you." Loki plucked the brush and lathering soap out of their holders and wet both. Dropping the soap in the provided tin, he started to rub them together.
"You want to shave me?" Phil tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"I did this for myself, while on Midgard. But in Asgard, servants would perform this function for me." Loki judged the lather to be sufficient and turned to see an unreadable expression on Phil's face. "Is this a problem?"
"No. You just said servants casually and it reminded me that you're a prince." Phil grinned a little. "I never imagined I'd be dating royalty. Or that they'd want to shave for me."
"Better than doing nothing while waiting for food and our turns in the shower." Loki had been worried that Phil didn't trust him with the straight razor and his relief at finding otherwise made him wonder if he had any idea how to have a relationship with a mortal.
It was too late for him, though. Even when HYDRA's brainwashing had broken, he'd known that he was already attached to them. He couldn't let go, though they were mortals and he would lose them too soon. He wished he hadn't mocked his brother about his mortal love so much. He knew the true cruelty in the words now. Of course that had been the point, to hurt him as he hurt me. That perspective felt childish and petty now that Loki truly knew how it felt to be poorly used.
He couldn't let go because he didn't want to.
The lather went on smooth despite the thick growth of beard on Phil's face. Loki took his time, letting the brush explore the hidden planes of Phil's face. When the foam was thick, he set the brush and lather tin aside and picked up the straight razor.
He set his thumb against Phil's temple and gently pulled his skin taut. In a smooth motion, he held the razor at the proper angle and began. Within seconds, Loki was glad he'd done this. First, it was something he could do for his mortal, a sensual pleasure and a gesture of caring. Second, it was relaxing to shave like this, a surprising thing he'd learned as Logan. There was a calming sensation that came from the amount of focus his task required. Last, shaving gave him an excuse to touch Phil nearly constantly.
He moved down his cheek and under Phil's jaw on the right. The blade cleanly sliced away the hair, leaving smooth skin behind. Loki couldn't resist running his finger over the shaved skin, smiling when Phil fidgeted in the chair. He cleaned the blade on one of the towels and repeated his efforts on the same side. This time, Loki saw the reason for the fidgeting; those flimsy jogging pants didn't hide the sign of agent's growing arousal.
Loki leaned down to his ear. "Hold still," he whispered heatedly. "I might cut you by accident." Even as he spoke, he moved so that he stood with his legs on either side of Phil's knees.
Phil gave him a wry grin. "You're a sadist."
Loki pressed a finger to his lips, ignoring the lather that stuck to his skin. "Shh. You'll get cut. We can't have that." He used his thumb to pull lightly on Phil's upper lip, drawing it tight enough to shave his upper lip. Doing the same to the bottom lip to get his chin was a little less sexy but it did the job, even as Phil struggled not to laugh.
The laughter faded when Loki wiped the streaks of lather off from his face and tilted up his chin. Leaning down, he kissed Phil lightly, relishing the change in the other man's face. Standing up straight, he tapped Phil's chin to let him know to hold it there. Loki gently pressed his fingers against the base of Phil's neck to draw the skin of his throat taut, and felt the mortal swallow tightly.
Loki took an extra moment to focus before he shaved this delicate patch of skin. He gently shaved downward with the grain of the hair, watching as the lather and hair fell away. The blade was sharp enough that it seemed to happen without him trying, which was the point. Any pressure on his part would cut flesh and spill blood. I've done that to him once already.
The thought that he'd hurt Phil once made his chest ache but it also felt distant. Another world and another time: two other men, neither of whom stood here anymore. He wondered if Phil thought about that anymore. If he did, Loki would have to make new memories for him.
Loki wiped away the last of the lather and stepped back. "Better?" he asked.
"Yes and no." Phil folded his hands in his lap in an age-old gesture to hide his erection.
Loki chuckled. "No one here is going to mind."
The door to the bathroom opened and Natasha stepped out, steam following her. "Next!" she said.
"You go," Phil told him. The agent rubbed his clean face. "I can wait now."
"Thanks." This was what it was like to care for and be cared for, and Loki decided that he liked it. His mother had done this for him but it was different when he knew they chose to do this for him. When they chose to care.
He hurried through the shower and was rewarded by the smell of melted cheese and meat grease when he shut off the water. The scent of dinner rushed him through his own shave as much as he dared. He almost left a pencil-thin goatee on his face just to poke fun at Stark but that might vex the metal man into something rash.
Stark's people had left him clothing to wear. The stretchy pants and shirt were all in black, perfect outfits to stock up for visitors in need. Loki pulled them on and stared at himself in the mirror. The outfit was too close to the HYDRA uniform he'd worn for the last months. Drawing on his magic for the first time since his capture by Barton, he summoned the illusion of his favorite outfit: the green and gold armor he'd preferred for so long.
That looked wrong, too, and he let the image fade. I'm not the Loki I was. I'm not Logan either. He was a new being altogether, an immortal who had lived and loved as a mortal. He would have to find who and what he was. That was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, his only worries were dinner and his waiting lovers.
