.
.
Opening the hatch, and trying to leave before assessing the dangers lying in wait…
Loki ridicules himself for that mistake.
The army of Lokis, led by what appeared to be a very smug-faced President of a Loki, invaded the underground hideaway.
A foot lodged painfully under Loki's ribs, kicking him, barrelling him through the air. Loki remembers hitting the ground with a painful THHMP!, unable to catch his breath, wheezing loudly as the hands of more unfamiliar Lokis dragging him away.
He ends up on his knees, bound with thick cable-wire around Loki's middle and his wrists trapped behind him.
"Find where the rest of those jackdaws are hiding. Leave no stone unturned. Do not hesitate—you will bring them to me now." President Loki flashes a huge, toothy grin, reaching down to grasp onto Loki's swollen-purple chin and eyeing Loki. There's a kind of viciousness in him. Loki is all too familiar with having once been a lustful, bloodthirsty dictator. Not that long ago. "They are to witness the consequences of opposing me."
One of the Lokis nods. Their horned helmet consists of jagged metal pieces wrapped with dark green fabric.
How have so many Lokis come together to follow only one?
Loki holds in a breath, and holds in a shudder of repulsion, as President Loki's fingertips greedily stroke Loki's jaw. He's as fleshy and cool-feeling as Loki himself. He releases him, leaving Loki to concentrate on his sorcery once more. Nothing.
It's been nothing since they clipped a TVA collar on his neck.
Loki doesn't know how they acquired one, but there must be a device to release it. If not a TemPad—clearly not a TemPad or the Lokis would have freed themselves from the Void—then it's somewhere on President Loki. Loki will allow himself to be at their mercy if it means being allowed an opportunity to root around for it, and go back to his original plan: Help Sylvie in the TVA.
Apprehension stirs.
Loki understands Sylvie can take care of herself and she always has…
It doesn't make him worry any less.
President Loki reclines on the peppermint-candy striped throne, his hands elegantly folding together. He hasn't torn his gaze from Loki. It's a not-so-secretive look of wanting to devour him. To claim him wholly and make an prime example of him.
Loki shifts uncomfortably, disguising another full-bodied shudder.
He wonders why the other Lokis are so eager to follow President Loki, and for so long… are they frightened of him because President Loki was one of the first? Or do they truly respect him? Or is it simply convenient to them until it no longer is?
"Comely, is he not?" President Loki declares.
There's a murmur of agreement between Mustache Loki and Glamshades Loki.
Of all Loki Variants he has encountered, or seen through TVA holo-records, President Loki resembles Loki and the Sacred Timeline Loki most in a physical appearance: tall and pale with a straight nose, combed-back dark hair, a pair of luminously, divinely blue eyes, and an affinity for varying shades of green. If they were to disagree, it would surely mean consequences.
Loki's mouth downturns.
He says nothing, stiffening up his muscles when one of President Loki's hands grasps onto Loki's tie, running his fingers lightly over the dirtied fabric. "Quite a resemblance, yes," a leering President Loki murmurs, carefully winding the loosened-open tie against his fingers. "Haply you can be a source of entertainment as we wait for your cater-cousins to join us…"
With a tug, President Loki urges him. He walks Loki, on his knees, right in front of the throne.
The others snicker.
Loki doesn't spot Boastful Loki anywhere—has he fled?
He allows his mind to wander, away from these unfortunate circumstances, as President Loki's spread-open legs press on Loki's hips. Loki's button-up shirt torn open, leaving scraps of pale blue material dangling and exposing a pale, muscular shoulder. It happened during in his struggle against the other Lokis cornering him, forcing him still to the wall and binding him.
President Loki rips his shirt further, pawing over the expansion of darkening bruises to Loki's collarbone and chest. He yanks a glaring Loki towards him, roughly pressing a cool-feeling mouth there. A twinge of burning soreness ripples through Loki.
"I never did get an answer out of you, whelp," President Loki says, his voice quiet enough for only Loki. "Which of us are you?"
Loki's glare fades.
"… Randy," Loki mutters, smirking defiantly and tilting his head.
It's worth the fist.
His head snaps sideways, and Loki's vision whitens. He straightens himself up after a long, heart-stopping moment, groaning.
Everything goes into deafening peal. His cheek swells.
What tastes like fresh blood coats the surface of Loki's tongue.
Loki winces, unable to lean out in President Loki's hands, feeling the mouth latching onto his neck.
President Loki drones out a rumbling noise, digging his mouth hungrily against the bruises. His teeth scrapes Loki's skin, reddening him, gnawing Loki's neck and collarbone harshly until every sensation sharpens like a blade in Loki's veins.
"Your portance leaves something to be desired, Variant," President Loki tells him, his eyes narrowing. "Do not make mockery."
Loki lets out a weakened scoff, the corner of his crimson-crusted mouth lifting.
"Ss'what I do…"
With a nudge of President Loki's sorcery, Loki's tie manifests into his widening-open mouth, gagging him. President Loki furiously yanks Loki up higher on his knees, fingers burrowing under the TVA collar and putting pressure on Loki's throat.
One of his horns bumps against Loki's temple.
"You will be taught submission… as all of the others before you have learned…"
President Loki holds out a hand, as if expecting something. One of the other Lokis hands him a knife. It's not a particularly remarkable knife. However, what unnerves Loki is the glint of malicious thrill in that Loki's eye when he stares over Loki.
The flat-end of the knife skims Loki's bare, bruised flesh. Its tip hollows in.
Loki grunts, his lips curling open, his teeth clenching onto his tie-gag.
The knife cuts him clean, slowly slitting.
Dark blood trickles.
President Loki's mouth forms into a cruel, unrelenting grin.
When his fingertip probes Loki's opened wound, Loki strains in President Loki's hold, feeling his other hand on Loki's nape. He understands now. Loki understands why the other Loki follow him. They've endured the same as Loki, one-by-one, upon their arrival to the Void.
They've come to appreciate the bloodshed and the gruesome suffering when it is not at their expense.
"Unbend and you will be fain for it," President Loki whispers, rubbing into the wound, jabbing in deeper. His pale-white fingertip, soaking red, digs into Loki's muscle under the flap of skin. He fucks in, pushing, pulling out of Loki's wound, pushing right in…
Howls muffle through Loki's gag.
The pain intensifies. Loki shudders and shudders uncontrollably, his wound throbbing along with Loki's heartbeat.
Drool oozes from the corners of his lips.
"Hoist this varlet up," President Loki orders, now looking displeased. "Disrobe him."
The Loki in prison garb seizes onto Loki's wrists, and the cable-wire trailing behind him, getting Loki onto his tiptoes. Echoes of gruff laughter. Hands fumble with Loki's belt, stripping it apart. Bicycle Loki curses, letting go as if avoiding fire's touch when Loki thrashes against him and snarls with his tie lodged in his bloodied mouth. Loki's uniform-slacks sag down to his calves, uncovering his arse.
Losing his patience, President Loki shoves off Loki's underwear, touching his flaccid cock—
Hel—
Loki tosses his head, venting out a small, disorientated noise, feeling President Loki's mouth wetly engulfs him—a sliding flick of rapturous and pulsating tongue on his cock's length, rubbing, lathing—President Loki's teeth mashing into firming skin—
A green glowing portal fizzles into existence—
Chaos ensues.
Alligator Loki leaps into view, growling and biting down on a Loki's arm.
They screech, flailing with Alligator Loki heavily weighing them down.
Two more Lokis scramble to pull off Alligator Loki, only to be stabbed repeatedly by a cackling Kid Loki holding a gilded spear. He's accompanied by the older, yellow-caped Loki watching on haughtily.
Loki feels himself collapsing onto the throne's floor.
President Loki stands, reddening with fury, his eyes bugging out.
"GET THEM! ATTACK, YOU LACK-LINEN MITES!"
Boastful Loki joins in, laughing, swinging his hammer and taking out a handful of Lokis trying to swarm him. They're no match for his prowess and cunning. Loki realizes, dazedly, that Boastful Loki vanished to find their kin. To bring them here to fight.
"YOU LILY-LIVER'D, CLAY-FACED TOADS! RUMP-FED RUNIONS! FALSE—!"
President Loki's voice falters.
With his back to Loki, he stumbles and clutches one-handed to himself. A thin groan escapes President Loki.
Loki gawks up at Sylvie appearing out of nowhere and nudging a wounded President Loki aside with her sword-arm.
Her snarl vanishes.
"Loki," Sylvie breathes, going to a knee. She presses her entire hand against Loki's still bleeding chest-wound.
He grimaces, feeling Sylvie's other hand de-enchant his gag.
"Sylvie…"
She takes a long moment to inspect Loki's pain-hazed expression, down to the scarlet fluid leaking between Sylvie's fingers, to his abused cock, her temper boiling. Sylvie growls threateningly to President Loki, rising on her knee as if to wound him again.
"No, no, don't…"
"If you believe that I will let this go unpunished," Sylvie hisses, turning back to look Loki in the eye, "then you're a fool…"
Loki lets out a ragged sigh.
His hand falls to Sylvie's protectively covering his wound. "Trust that I am not," he says.
"Good."
At her scoff, Loki's mouth quirks.
"What are we to do with him?" Kid Loki declares, nodding to President Loki now cornered to the floor by Alligator Loki. The other Loki chuckles darkly, opening his mouth, and decidedly shuts it when Alligator Loki whips himself closer, his jaws snapping.
Loki climbs to his feet, with Sylvie's help, and Boastful Loki claps his shoulder encouragingly.
"Leave him," Loki mutters.
"Are you mad?" Boastful Loki declares, his hand lowering and his brow furrowed.
"We can't," Sylvie and Kid Loki says in unison. frowning.
"Leave all of them behind. Our priority is Alioth."
Nobody argues, but their expressions read less than pleased.
"Good show," Classic Loki tells him, nodding approvingly to Loki who nods back. They lead the way back to the portal, and Loki half-turns around to President Loki left on his own. President Loki's lips curl into a long, lustful smirk.
We will meet again.
Loki doesn't know if he can afford to make that mistake again.
But it's made.
.
.