Loki woke, for once, from a dreamless sleep, to a bed that wasn't his, with the warmth of another body next to him. It took him a split second of almost-panic to remember where he was. Whose bed this was and who he'd spent last night fucking. He relaxed and breathed deeply, rolling onto his side so he could drape an arm over Stephen, sliding a hand over his chest and pressing his lips into his shoulder. Loki's fingers found a jagged scar near his heart. Courtesy of the accident that had taken the use of his hands? Or something else? If he had his way, he'd have the time to learn this man by touch alone. Every scar, every ripple of muscle and bone under skin, the feel of his mouth, the feel of Stephen inside him, and of being inside him. Everything.

Of course, Loki never got his way. And time, he had a feeling, was one thing that they didn't have.

Stephen took a deep breath and stirred, his hand finding Loki's. "You were right," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

That was something Loki didn't hear very often. "About what?" he asked, trying to remember what he'd said the previous night.

"The you being a god thing."

"Oh." Loki grinned. "That." Yes, it had been good. Very good. Really, extremely good; the kind of sex that made your toes curl with the memory of it, the kind that made Loki's hips ache to move again. They hadn't been a god and a mortal, they'd just been two gasping, sweaty bodies; tangled limbs, lips and tongues and things whispered in the dark.

The memory of that made it hard to think. Or maybe that sentence should have been, simply, the memory of that made it hard. Him. Whatever. Who needed wordplay right now. He disentangled their hands and moved his lower across Stephen's chest, over his belly, and down. They were already in bed together, weren't they? No point in squandering opportunity when it presented itself.

It was inevitable that Loki's hand where it was on Strange would lead to more, and when it did, Loki closed his eyes, moved with Stephen, and wondered how sex could feel so, so good. Maybe it really was the magic. This was beyond anything he'd ever felt. The fact that a mortal man was making him moan and gasp this much, and feel like his body wasn't enough to contain so much pleasure was…unexpected. He could only hope he was giving as much as he was getting. There was repeated evidence—four or five instances of it, actually, not counting what was currently happening—to suggest that he was.

When they'd both finished, Loki could do nothing but rest his forehead on Stephen's shoulder and catch his breath. They were both slick with sweat (not just sweat) and their bodies were hot, so Loki's hand slid easily back up to Stephen's chest. After a few minutes, Stephen turned onto his back. Loki propped himself on an elbow and quirked an eyebrow as he met Stephen's eyes, which made Strange smile, then pull Loki's face closer to kiss him.

It made Loki's stomach drop out of his body again, despite the fact that he now knew exactly what promise was behind that kiss. Not much mystery left, physically speaking. But Stephen made him feel young. Young and stupid. It was funny, even though Stephen was centuries younger than him, he seemed older. Like he'd somehow seen more, even though that couldn't possibly be the case. Then again, he had the Time Stone. Who knew how much he'd lived?

Loki ran his fingers through Stephen's hair and made a quiet, helpless noise as teeth nipped at his lower lip. He was not in control of this situation, that was becoming quite clear. In a few hours he might care, but with Stephen's body beneath his, he didn't.

Eventually, they broke apart. With a chuckle, Strange said, "I had a feeling when I brought you back here that you'd be a distraction."

"I aspire to nothing less." Loki smirked. "You do know what I'm the god of?"

"Huh. Can I say after last night, I'm wondering if you have another moniker besides 'mischief' that I wasn't aware of? Or is that too much?"

Loki nuzzled at Stephen's neck, his tongue flicking out to taste him. Stephen made a noise deep in his throat and Loki smiled to himself before he lifted his head again. "I never turn down complimentary epithets."

A crooked half-smile flickered across Stephen's face and he ran a hand down Loki's body, letting it linger in several places that made Loki muffle groans and arch his hips. "Alright," Stephen sighed. "I really do have to get up. Can't do much to protect the world from here."

Shifting to allow Stephen out of the bed—much as it pained him to do so—Loki snorted, "Right. You know, you could have come up with something a little less noble and important sounding. I can't exactly try to convince you to stay here, now."

"You could," Strange said, stretching as he stood up. Loki had to take a moment to stare appreciatively. "It feels like the kind of thing the God of Mischief would do."

"Yes, but the God of Mischief isn't stupid, and he knows what kind of person he's—" But Loki stopped, not wanting to say what had nearly slipped out of his mouth. It was one thing to admit it to himself. It was something else entirely to say it out loud. "What kind of person you are," he finished instead.

Stephen looked at him. Loki got the feeling that he knew what the admission was that Loki had nearly stumbled into. And that, in turn, made him realize that he didn't care. He didn't care if Strange knew the truth, this truth, at least. Was it his imagination or was the same thing reflected back at him?

Best not to dwell on it. Instead, Loki let a smirk creep across his face, then said, "You could put us in a time loop with the Eye. That way we'd have ample opportunity to make sure we've explored…this…and we can still protect the world at our leisure."

With a laugh, Stephen said, "Not really its intended use."

"Is it my problem Agamotto was a prude?"

Stephen laughed again, then said, his gaze softening, "If anything was ever going to tempt me to break every law of nature for no one's gain but my own, it would be you."

Loki opened his mouth to respond but found that he didn't know how to. When he closed his mouth, Stephen gave him a wry smile and picked up a bath towel. "I'm going to shower," Stephen said. "You're welcome to join me."

Speaking of temptation. But Loki shook his head. "Take your shower, Stephen. You'd only have to take another if I was in there with you. And then the water would just be cold."

Stephen paused and his fingers tightened around the towel before he wrapped it around his waist. "Okay, I'm going. For real. Probably taking a cold shower, now, anyway…"

Loki grinned as Strange left the room—reluctantly, if what had started to appear under the towel was any indication—and then laid back down. For the first time in years, he felt relaxed. It wouldn't last. His mind wouldn't let it. But for now, he closed his eyes and let the sun shine on his eyelids and enjoyed it.

His eyes opened. What had that been, about fifteen seconds? His thoughts had already moved on from the way Stephen's body had felt under his hands to the bodies they'd left in the street outside, and the living creatures that those bodies had once been. Asgardians, twisted almost beyond recognition by the time they'd spent being pulled apart and remade in Ultimus's dimension. His people. He'd had a responsibility to them and he'd failed them, just like he'd failed so many.

He sat up and looked at his clothes, still laying mingled with Stephen's on the floor where the two of them had torn it all off each other last night. Loki had never been so eager to get another person's naked body underneath his. That was a nice thought, at least, which made his skin prickle in remembered sensation. Really, he needed to shower too before he got dressed again. He smelled like sweat and sex. If he was anybody but who he was, he'd lie there and wait his turn for the shower, wait for Stephen Strange to come back, and think about how he'd fallen in love.

But he wasn't anybody. He was himself, and much darker thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. The Tesseract was niggling at his awareness, for one thing, pushing him towards something. Or maybe that was him projecting, because there was something he wanted to know, and it was easier to blame it on an Infinity Stone. There was another universe, the right universe, that had been split in two. His universe had been poked full of holes by Ultimus and was already broken beyond repair. He knew, suddenly, deep in his bones. Was the other one, too?

Glancing at the door, he held out a hand, and the Tesseract appeared there. He turned it over in his hands. Nothing good had come of him having it and far worse had come from him using it. But he had to know. He had to know what the life was that he was supposed to have lived.

The buzz of magic and power was back, and Loki glanced over to the bedside table, where the Eye of Agamotto was sitting unattended. Stephen trusted him enough to leave it in his presence. He shouldn't have. Really, he shouldn't have. People didn't trust Loki, and he'd long ago decided to stop fighting that and give them a reason not to. But Stephen had been different from the beginning. He'd let Loki prove one way or the other if he could be trusted.

He stared at the Eye and he thought about what he could do with two Infinity Stones.

He thought about what the two of them could do with two Infinity Stones.

He sighed and held the Tesseract up to his face. He'd done so much harm without meaning to. He wasn't the sort of person who was meant to wield two Infinity Stones—and he surprised himself by being fine with that. The one was enough for him. Oh well. Settling.

The Tesseract pulsed once, its blue light brighter, a question. Loki got out of bed, magicked away the sticky mess on his belly and back, and pulled his clothes on. Then, he held the Tesseract tighter and thought about where he wanted to go.