Mobius is a Minuteman for the TVA. He's been one for as long as he can remember. He staunchly follows the rules: no relationships, no touching, no getting involved with ANYONE. But Mobius is a curious man, he can't help it. He's seen things when he's gone on missions to all those different planets and planes of existence and timelines, things he's kept tucked in the back of his mind, things he's wondered about, things he's wanted to experience. But he WON'T because there are rules, goddammit, and if the TVA has set a certain rule in place it's probably for a good reason, right? Right?
Minuteman Mobius is assigned to the Loki variant case. He's a good little grunt, does what he's told, when he's told. He's on the the team that nabs the Asgardian god in the Gobi Desert. He's the one that wrestles him back through the Time Door after Hunter B-15 throws the time-twister around his neck. Mobius can feel the surprising strength emanating from Loki as he struggles against his hold; bicep bunched, shoulder straining, pure unadulterated rage. Mobius finds he is at a loss for words to describe the feeling of the sudden heat that pulses through him at the contact. His breath quickens, his heart rate ticks up. Must have to do with the adrenaline or something, he reasons.
Later, after Loki's arraignment with Renslayer, Mobius is tasked with guarding the variant until one of the agents can decide what to do with him. They're in the time theater together, alone. There are two more minutemen outside the door, but here, in this space, there's only a hollow, angry silence with Loki sitting at the small table, fuming, and Mobius standing quietly, awaiting his next orders. He keeps his eyes locked firmly on the variant, gaze traveling over every inch of him.
Mobius wants to feel that raw power from Loki again.
The abrupt thought surprises him and he shudders. It's a quick thing that he pushes away immediately, with a cough to clear his throat and one hand smoothing down the front of his armored gear, but not quickly enough that Loki doesn't notice.
He turns in his chair slowly, his eyes locked on Mobius and Mobius has to force himself not to take an instinctive retreating step. He instead straightens his back and raises his chin, gripping the butt of his pruning stick. It's no use. Loki rises and slinks toward him with a predatory grin like a... like a cat, the name of which Mobius has just learned two days prior.
Mobius swallows hard. The chinstrap of his helmet cuts into his throat. But he does not take one step back, even when Loki comes to a stop right in front of him. Loki has a good few inches on him and he has to cast his eyes up just a little to keep his gaze centered on him.
Mobius' heart is thudding in his chest. He's never been this close to someone before, not like this. "Back off, variant," he says in a voice that's not as commanding as he'd hoped.
Loki narrows his eyes. "No."
A bead of perspiration tracks down Mobius' temple and he flexes his fingers to get a better grip on the pruner. His voice trembles when he tries again: "I said back off, vari-"
His words are cut off as Loki simultaneously grips his collar and the wrist of the hand holding his weapon. He is yanked forward until their faces are mere inches apart and Mobius suddenly can't breathe. A tremble wracks through him and he looks up at Loki almost helplessly. He has never been touched this way, ever. He's suddenly struck with the realization that it's all he's ever wanted. All he's ever craved.
A pulse of heat rushes through him, pooling right in his gut. His cock thickens rapidly and his knees weaken. Mobius' next breath catches in his throat. He can hardly make sense of anything that is happening.
Loki flashes a wicked grin, full of understanding and Mobius is almost lost in it. The hand that had been gripping his collar moves up the side of his neck and Loki's fingertips find the fine hairs at the nape just under his helmet. Mobius swallows thickly. His pulse is hammering away, making him lightheaded.
And then Loki dips his head down and his lips find the soft flesh of his throat where the rapid beat of his heart flutters just under the surface. And it's too much. It's not enough. Mobius feels hot and tight and he does not know fucking why.
"I- I don't," he stammers, "O- oh, shit.", but he's unable to articulate anymore words because the very next second Loki is laving a wet, slick stripe up his neck with his tongue and sucking against the sensitive skin right under his earlobe.
A white hot bolt of pleasure sears through him at the contact and he comes immediately with a hitching moan, soaking his TVA issued briefs with pulse after pulse of his release. He almost topples forward with the force of it, but Loki steadies him with a hand at his waist.
Mobius slowly looks up, his cheeks flushed with arousal and embarrassment. He doesn't know what to say. In this moment he's not sure if he even knows how to speak.
Loki's gaze pins him as he trembles with the aftershocks of what has happened. Intrigue and something deeper swirl within the stormy blue depths.
"Interesting," Loki breathes softly.
And before another second passes, the door behind them suddenly smashes open and the room becomes a flurry of chaos with agents and hunters and minutemen flooding in and roughly pulling them apart.
Loki is pushed forcefully to his knees with a growl. Mobius' feels a possessive anger burn in his chest when he sees it. Their eyes lock one last time before Mobius is shuffled out of the room and thrown with force into the hallway. He hits the far wall, shoulder connecting first with a crack of pain, and he sinks down slowly, more confused and bereft than he's ever felt before. He wishes with everything inside him that he and Loki just had a little more fucking time.