After nearly blacking out, Clint took over twenty minutes to get hard again. Loki patiently fucked him through it.

When the shouting grew prohibitively loud (there was, the demigod had learned, no good way for neighbours to hear bloody murder through the walls punctuated by 'please, god, mercy'), Clint was fed a washcloth to soak up the noise. It weighed heavy and dry on his tongue, filling his mouth and pressing just enough at the back of his throat to tickle his gag reflex when he swallowed or cried.

He tried once to cough it out. Loki offered helpfully to 'take his mind off it' – and then six candles later, asked if he still wanted it removed.

Fingers digging into his palms, Clint shook his head with everything he had. Didn't stop until Loki laughed, "Clever boy," breathlessly into his shoulder and patted him on the thigh.

His throat swelled with tears. The heat alone would have been enough, but Loki was cruel and greedy. A continual stream of dripping wax made it impossible to relax, and he found himself helplessly tightening in fits and starts around Loki's already too thick intrusion while he continued to pound in and out of him, studiously ignoring his prostate, moaning and gasping as he let Clint's sore, overstretched muscles milk him dry.

Once Loki was at last assured that Clint would not be walking or sitting for the foreseeable future (at least, in retrospect, Clint assumed this had been the goal), he dragged himself out with a happy, sated sigh. When Clint realised that he was no longer in danger of being impaled, the relief was almost as great as the loss. Loki let the boy catch his breath, rubbed his back, tugged on his cock a few times, and doodled happy birthday over his ass in mint green wax. Finally, he pulled out the gag for Clint to extinguish the candle and slur out a number – "Seventeen." Loki kissed the small of his back in reward.

"Have you had enough, pet?" he asked gently. "Do you want me to stop?"

Clint resolutely shook his head.

"You want me to keep going?"

He nodded. Then obediently opened his mouth for Loki to stuff the gag back inside. A kiss to his bound arms. Hands sweeping over his ribs, stomach, then down his thighs. Clint glowed under the warmth of Loki's silent approval. Then he heard the click of snapping fingers and the telltale hissing pop of flame being conjured into existence. His muted whimper was barely audible through the cloth.

"Where do you want it, pet?"

Clint only shivered in response.

He could feel the heat of the candle floating over him, drifting from his shoulder blades down the curve of his arched back, over his hips, and then bright, stinging pain on the backs of his thighs and over his calves. When it started to pool inside the arch of his soles, Clint let out an incredulous squeal as the pain shot up his leg and hummed through his entire body.

And then, impossibly, it got worse.

As the wax crawled back up his thigh, Clint felt a hand slide down his back and over the curve of his ass. A finger rubbed at his red and swollen ring of muscle, loose from the demigod's prodigious efforts, then pressed the pad of his thumb where Clint was still wet with lube and come. Despite his whistling keen, the end popped in easily and after that, Clint's nervous contractions swallowed the first knuckle.

Loki leaned in, licked Clint's ear, and then hooked his thumb just inside the rim, pulling him open, before asking, "How about here?"

Clint's eyes snapped wide.

He started to shake his head, trying to speak but the gag was too big, keeping his tongue down and his mouth agape. White hot terror thrummed inside him.

"Uhhngh…"

"What's that, pet?" Loki pulled harder, stretching him wide, while drizzling wax over the small of his back. "I can't hear you."

Clint flinched terribly. Rocked from side to side, clenching and unclenching his hands. The muscles in his thighs shivered and jumped uncontrollably.

"Ngh! Ngh, uhhnngh–"

He coughed as the gag was yanked out, then squealed when the wax dripped down over his tailbone.

"Come again?"

"No. No, p-please," he begged, the words tripping over themselves, catching on his wet sobs. "God, please, not- not there. Please. C-can't. Loki, please. Don't. Please. Loki – "

Pain lanced through him.

Clint threw himself forwards, forgetting his shoulders, his wrists, as the wax dripped directly inside his raw, fluttering hole. The shockwave crashed through his entire body. Air was knocked from his lungs. He couldn't make a sound. Every muscle was taut to snapping. He thrashed and convulsed as if struck by electricity.

Loki put his alien strength to good use resisting the desperate attempts of Clint's body to clench shut and protect itself, prying him open while he let the wax fall.

Then Clint screamed. Loki didn't bother with the gag, just wished the candle away, squeezed Clint's throat with a flash of magic and suddenly, Clint was mute. Though his lips moved and his diaphragm heaved, nothing came out but tiny, mewling whimpers. Satisfied, Loki summoned his candle back and carried merrily on where he'd left off. Clint seized up, thrashing frantically against the ribbons, and silently screamed himself hoarse.

Only when the candle had melted down to a stub did Loki pull it away, shoving three fingers in immediately after and putting his nails into Clint's prostate.

Clint buckled so hard he nearly tore his shoulders out of their sockets, came, and blacked out.

A few seconds later, Clint woke to the heat of a candle by his lips.

"Blow."

He managed a weak, shaking puff of air. It seemed to be enough.

"Eighteen," said Loki. The mattress dipped by Clint's shoulders as Loki sat down on the edge. "One to go."

Clint burst into tears. Sobbing incomprehensibly, tossing his head, making tiny little noises in his muted throat and growing more and more distressed with the realisation.

Loki held his face and cleaned him up, brushing the tears from his cheeks and the drool off his chin while keeping up a constant stream of good boy and beautiful and perfect. Kissed his eyes, rubbed his shoulders and arms.

Reaching under Clint, he wiped the come off the sheets and had the boy lick it from his hand. Clint rushed to obey. Swallowing sobs, he strained for Loki's hand, which the demigod teased against his lips before pulling back, just far enough out of reach to make him crane his neck. Loki watched, mesmerised, the pink tongue darting out between his fingers and over his palm. Watched the boy whose pleas he had so callously ignored and in whose suffering he so delighted, desperately eager to please him.

"Gods, Clint…" he sighed, running a hand through his pet's hair, "if you had any idea…"

Once Clint had finished, his breathing had also calmed. The piteous weeping, at least, had ebbed. Loki pulled his hand away, laughing when Clint tried to follow, tongue wiggling in the air.

Click. Hisss-pop.

Clint shivered. Only one candle left. But Loki still made him wait. Cleaning the slate again with a wave of his hand, he rubbed the newly bared skin and dragged his nails through the burns. Tickled the hypersensitised soles of Clint's feet. Played with his cock. Fucked him with his fingers – one, two, then four all at once – just to make him cry again. It burnt like Loki was fucking him dry with a baseball bat. But he was too tired, too weak to really struggle anymore. Could only hang from his wrists and let it happen. The fact that his voice was trapped, in addition to his blindness, made it all so much worse. It wasn't long before tears were trickling off the tip of his nose again.

Finally, Loki squeezed his limp cock and chuckled.

"Poor pet. Are you done?"

Clint nodded viciously. He couldn't get it up on a boxful of Viagra. Wax splashed onto the sole of his right foot.

"Out loud," Loki ordered. "Don't be rude."

The reprimand sent a ripple of fear tingling over Clint's skin. More than the wax, more than being fucked to within an inch of his life – with just a few words, Loki's disapproval pushed him right to the edge of a very thin line.

So Clint tried again. But the spell was still there, turning his words into feeble kitten noises. Forcing him to disobey.

More wax, on the same foot, and Clint was bawling now, begging with every inch of his body, chest heaving, but all Loki could hear was his heavy breathing, sobs caught in the spell.

"Come on, try again, pet. It's not that hard."

Clint tried and tried. But Loki never lifted the spell. Just punished him with more wax every time he failed. He was flushed red with humiliation, flinching and twisting pitifully, hurting himself on the ribbons.

Eventually, Loki declared it a lost cause and stood up to push his cock down Clint's throat.

The boy moaned in relief. Closing his eyes, he forced all of his brain power into his throat and tongue, swallowing when Loki told him to, breathing only when Loki let him. Working as hard as he could for every gasp, every single word of praise, because this right here, he didn't need to be able to speak to get right, to obey, to please his master.

A few minutes later, Loki came with a rush of garbled Asgardian that didn't translate and Clint swallowed like his life depended on it.

Loki stayed still for while, nestled in that warm, wet mouth to let Clint milk him dry – and then just to indulge his pet's oral fixation (which, privately, Loki may or may not have been fostering) as he licked and sucked aimlessly with dazed contentment.

He moaned weakly when Loki finally pulled out, trying a few times to get him back before a hand in his hair yanked him away.

"You want more, pet?" Loki teased. "Did you like it that much?"

Clint risked a smile and started to nod – but was cut off, head snapping left as Loki slapped him in the face. Warm, sparkling pain blossomed across his jaw.

"Haven't we learnt anything? Out loud, pet."

Stunned, Clint opened his mouth. And then the slap, the burns on feet, the pain in his throat all thrummed inside him and he immediately gave up. Racked with sobs, lips pressed firmly together, he shook his head jerkily side to side. If he didn't try it, he couldn't fail, and Loki wouldn't punish him. The logic of which was so weak, even Clint didn't buy it. When Loki reached for him again, he flinched, expecting to be hit, and hunched his shoulders as much as he could, hanging his head low.

Sorry, he blurted, but of course nothing came out, and that only made him cry harder. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! He wanted to speak, he wanted to be good, but Loki wasn't letting him.

At last, the prince took pity and stopped his little game. Crouching down, Loki pulled Clint's face up, holding him firmly by the jaw, and tried to kiss him. Clint shied angrily away, ducking his head. His eyes were red as they glared blankly into the distance.

"Aww, pet…" Loki cooed. "Hush… That was mean of me. I'm sorry."

Clint tried to flinch away, but Loki caught him again. He softened his grip when Clint stopped trying to get away, instead wiping the tear tracks off his cheeks and brushing the hair from his eyes.

"Sh… No more of that, I promise. I swear." He cupped Clint's face tenderly between his palms. "You've done so well, pet… I won't do that again. Do you forgive me?"

Clint hitched a sob and then dove forward to bury his head in Loki's shoulder, keening and mewling as the tears ran their course. Loki petted his hair all the while, hushing him and supporting his torso to take the pressure off his shoulders and hanging arms.

Eventually, face still hidden in Loki's neck, Clint nodded.

"Alright. Last candle. Do you want me to stop?"

He shook his head.

"You're sure?"

Nodding again.

"It'll hurt," Loki warned.

More nodding.

Loki leaned back and kissed him, slow and soft. Clint didn't have the energy to do much more than part his lips, but he lay rapturously on the seabed as the warm current washed over him, basking in the sunlight of Loki's favour.

When Loki stood up, Clint braced himself for the click. But then the ribbon that hung his wrists grew, letting him down slowly while the ribbon around his ankles and knees undid itself. He collapsed onto the mattress in a slow sprawl. Had he had his voice, the groan when his arms were lowered would have been nearly orgasmic. Loki seemed to catch it anyway, laughing softly as he manually untied the ribbon around Clint's arms to lay him out flat. He carefully rubbed the blood back into Clint's hands, and then massaged his stiff shoulders. Meanwhile, Clint soaked slowly into the bed springs from bliss.

When he was just about one with the mattress, Clint felt something being fed under his neck and around. He smiled lazily when he recognised the familiar suede back on his collar as Loki pulled it tight and buckled it in. A metallic clink signalled the leash being attached.

Loki stepped back to admire the view, then yanked on the leash.

"On the floor, pet."

With all the grace of a grounded octopus, Clint dragged himself towards Loki's voice, feeling for the edge, and slid onto the floor. Another tug, sharper, upwards, got him reluctantly on his hands and knees.

"Heel," Loki called, with no small amount of schadenfreude, and walked away. Clint was dragged along with him, crawling on lead limbs.

The carpet changed to floorboards as they left the bedroom. Muscle memory told Clint, when they stopped, that they were in the dining room.

"Sit."

Clint sat back on his knees while Loki pulled up a chair. Tugging on the leash a little more, he made Clint shuffle forward a few more inches before 'sitting' again between his knees. Then felt his head being tilted back, a hand wrapped around his throat, and Loki was kissing him again. Eyelashes fluttering, Clint moaned into Loki's mouth. Whatever wall had trapped Clint's voice had fallen away.

"Do you trust me?" Loki asked when they parted.

Clint licked his lips, "Yes." Finally.

"All together," Loki coaxed.

Clint quirked a smile, leaning into Loki's hand on his jaw. "Yes, Loki. I trust you."

Click. Hisss-pop.

Heat appeared in front of Clint, very close to his face. The candle must have gone out during all their speech therapy.

Loki waited, letting the anticipation build, then stroked his cheek and ran a finger over his lips.

"Say 'ah'…"

Clint's hooded eyes widened slowly as he parted his lips. His brain wasn't completely in working order, but somewhere in the mix, he recognised vaguely that Loki wouldn't have decamped all the way to the dining room for something as bourgeois as a blow job. But Clint didn't think he could handle wax on his tongue…

Loki tugged on his leash encouragingly and slid a thumb between his lips.

"Come, pet, be a good boy. Tongue out."

Clint was fairly certain Loki wouldn't actually make him swallow a lit candle. Or use him for a candle holder. At least, not on his birthday.

I trust you.

He stuck out his tongue. Closed his eyes. Held his breath –

– and then let it out in a huge huff of relief, crumpling completely, when it was a finger, just Loki's finger, that pushed onto his tongue. But it was coated with something sweet and – was that chocolate!?

Clint wrapped his tongue around Loki's finger and sucked at the treat. It was smooth and creamy and just a little sandy…

It was icing. Cake icing. Clint hummed pornographically.

With a pop, Loki slipped his finger out. Then laughed when he saw Clint had already opened his mouth again, tongue hanging out, obviously grinning behind it. So Loki obliged, with two fingers this time. Clint lapped at them giddily.

Loki kept going, feeding him icing and then graduating to the occasional crumb until slowly, slowly, Clint began to surface.

Soon, he was far enough out of the water to think in full sentences. Loki licked the excess off Clint's lips – and stole a kiss to make him giggle.

"Close your eyes."

A gold wash, pressure, and then Clint blinked open.

The sudden flood of vision was overwhelming. But when he managed to focus again, he let out a slightly hysterical laugh. Because after everything they'd just done, the grand finale – was a number '19' shaped candle in white and violet stripes, the '1' half melted already, stuck into a slice of chocolate mud cake that Loki was holding in front of his face.

"Cake," he surmised stupidly.

Loki's indelible smile kicked up a notch.

"So it would seem," he drawled. "What is it I'm supposed to say? Oh yes…"

Holding the cake with one hand, he held the other up and snapped his fingers. Hisss-pop! The wick burst aflame with a small shower of gold sparks.

"Make a wish, pet."

Clint grinned like he hadn't done since he was five years old. Squeezed his eyes shut, drew an enormous breath, and blew out the candle.

"Nineteen," he announced triumphantly. "Wanna know what I wished for?"

"No," Loki replied. He plucked the candle out and threw it over his shoulder, whereupon it vanished midair. "I want it to come true."

Then he broke off a piece of cake and popped it into his own mouth.

"Mmm… Now, this custom, I can see the attraction. This chocolate, especially. I really must convince Thor to invade. We need this."

He ate another bite and pretended not to see Clint eyeing the cake hopefully with increasingly round eyes, kneeling up, barely his fingertips on the floor and wriggling to get his attention.

"Oh! Sorry," he said, almost halfway through the slice, like he just remembered Clint was still here. "Would you like a fork?"

Clint blinked in surprise, not realising that was an option. Then glanced down bashfully, shaking his head.

"So, you don't want the rest?" Loki concluded. "I'm devastated. I shall have to eat all of it myself."

"What? No! I…"

Loki blinked owlishly at him with emerald green eyes. "Yes, pet?"

Clint fidgeted. Licked his lips.

"I… Would you… Feed me? Please?"

Loki beamed.

"Say 'ah'…"

Loki fed him from his hands, making him beg for every bite with his tongue out, craning his neck. At the end of each slice, he tipped the crumbs into his cupped palm and had Clint lick it clean. Clint was in chocolatey heaven.

After a while, he began shivering continuously. Loki conjured their duvet to wrap around his bare shoulders. Clint eventually snuggled up in between Loki's legs and lay pillowed on his thigh while Loki ate the remainder of a slice, stirring only to lick Loki's fingers clean. When he started sliding down Loki's leg, the demigod picked him and the duvet up, took him to bed and tucked him in. Climbing in beside him, he took off the leash – but left the collar when Clint stopped him with a sleepy grumble and a hand on Loki's wrist that turned into a proper teddy bear hug when Clint rolled over onto his shoulder.

"So..." Loki murmured, wiping away tear tracks, "did I get it right this time?"

A smile ghosted over Clint's face.

"Next year…" he mumbled, "same again next y…"

He was asleep before he could finish the word.

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A/N: AHHHHHHH! Thank you everyone who's made it this far through the longest continuous scene in all of history. There will be more in this series, probably uploaded as separate stories, so follow author / check back if you're interested ^^ And please do let me know what you thought. Any and all criticism is welcome. If there's anything I should have warned for, please lemme know as well. =)