I know it's been forever since I last posted, and I apologise for that :( I just had no time during easter holidays, then school, then I had to work during summer holidays and then, again, school.
I'll try to make up for it with long-awaited smut (Even if it is a tease, sorry not sorry). This also brings about a rating change in the story, but I hope it's for the better :)
7
Ever since he was a child, Loki has been known for being a pain in the ass. No point sugarcoating it. His general pranking and meddling as a young boy granted him the title 'Mischief maker' long before Thor even had hold of Mjölnir, much less knew how to manipulate it.
In layman's terms, he beat Thor to his godly title.
The more-renowned monicker of Liesmith came much later. It was only after he was let free to plot and plan his mischief that he started to involve lying into the process, and even then, it was only in aid of his childish schemes; a little lie here and he could get more of the cook's muffins to give to Thor and his friends and be included in their games. After all, it wasn't as if anyone noticed he was doing it. Nobody could tell whether or not he was lying, and as he grew older and more alienated, so did his lies and tales grow as well.
It all came to a head when he got Thor to dress up as a lady. Admittedly, it got them both in serious trouble, but in the end, all his spun stories were no good in the eyes of Odin Allfather. And if the king himself wouldn't trust him to tell the truth, then his subjects wouldn't either.
And so came the other names: Trickster, Liesmith, Silver-tongue, God of Lies.
The point being, Loki knows about lies. He knows how to make you believe most anything he says, and he can spin a story with so many delicate details you have no choice but to believe him. It doesn't mean he can detect when a lie is being told to him. He can, however, make an educated guess.
Not that he really needs to, with the way Tony's behaving.
"You shouldn't come in here today, the floor's a mess and there's scrap metal everywhere," Tony tells him on Monday and even as he climbs the stairs, Loki has trouble remembering a time when the workshop was clean. To him, it's always looked the way Tony just described it.
"Working with radioactive uranium here, Hocus Pocus," is the excuse on Tuesday. To his credit, he does look to be in a protective suit.
"You know I'm not affected by radiation, Tony," Loki deadpans.
"Right, well, I am so I don't need distractions. See ya later!"
Loki gets the hint and stops showing up after that. It's not like he needs Tony's company, he could just as easily go visit Bruce, or train with Natasha like he's been doing for a while now (the Widow takes his blue skin as a challenge to be careful where she lands a punch), but he can't help but feel somewhat disappointed to be lied to by the Avenger he gets on with the best.
Two days later, at dinner, he sees Tony again. The engineer comes up from his workshop with burn marks on his t-shirt and smelling of smoke.
"Hey, Lokes," he says, like four days isn't the longest time they've spent apart in the five months Loki's been living in the Tower. The thought does't rankle Loki at all. "What have you been up to this week?"
"Nothing much," answers Loki dryly. Apparently, Tony has learned to leave well enough alone, or so Loki thinks until a half hour later.
"So…" Tony says after they've washed their dishes, "Aren't you gonna ask me what I was doing for so long?"
"Was I supposed to?" Loki replies drily, not amused.
"Don't be like that," Tony whines, "Come on, ask."
"If I do, will you stop being a pest?" Loki is actually approaching anger by now. He doesn't appreciate Tony dangling his sneaking about in front of his face and eating in total silence and awkwardness reminds him too much of the last feasts and banquets he had to attend in Asgard. He does not need to be brought down this early in the day.
"Yup," is Tony's cheery reply.
Loki sighs, then says in a bored tone, "Fine, then. Tony, what did you do this week?"
"Come with me."
Loki rolls his eyes, but when he's done Tony's still looking at him, in equal measures hopeful and excited, and when he stretches out a hand in the direction of the stairs, Loki doesn't resist and goes with him to the workshop.
They have to wade through the general post-work-bender-chaos but eventually, Tony stops him in front of the desk and turns around, beginning hesitantly, "I didn't know how to show you this, since honestly, the last person I discussed this with flipped out on me, but here goes."
He takes a deep breath and flicks his hand out on the clear glass surface of his worktable, projecting several pages' worth of calculations and blueprints, along with various scientific equations, all scribbled out in Tony's messy handwriting. Loki just stares for a moment, looks around himself, and he can totally see Tony just madly taking stylus to tablet in the stream of consciousness he can see spread out before him. His eyes narrow as he tries to work out what it all means, since he's not all that well versed in midgardian science, but once he sees the blueprints in more detail, he realises their purpose.
He turns wide eyes on Tony, who's leaning against the desk with his arms crossed, and asks slowly, "What is this?" if only to hear it from the engineer's lips.
"Extremis," Tony replies plainly, "Well, it's based off of it, but I think I've made it better."
Loki glares, "It's also the balancing of energetic equations theorising the workings of Jötun magic. It's extremely dangerous, not to mention reckless, to experiment with this in an enclosed space," he hisses, gesturing around them.
"Which is why I haven't," Tony says smugly. "I don't understand magic as magic," he starts, "but I can recognise it as energetic reactions, and that's enough for the theoretical part of it." The mortal scratches the back of his head, strangely shy all of a sudden, "I was kinda planning to tell you anyway, once it was done, but I figured you might want to help?" His voice is hopeful, and Loki tears his gaze from those enticing brown eyes to survey the holograms around them one more time.
"You'll never manage this without some knowledge of magic," he says with a blooming grin, then teases, "and I happen to be well versed in it myself."
"So you'll help?"
Loki sighs. "If only to keep you from blowing the tower up around us."
"Yeah!" Tony fist-pumps.
"We'll start tomorrow," Loki decides. "You look like you're lacking sleep."
"Oh, yeah. What day is it even?" Tony asks sheepishly.
A calm voice chimes in from the ceiling, "It's Thursday, sir. Also, it's been 64 hours since your last full night's sleep, so I suggest you get to work on that."
"Don't sass me, Jarvis," Tony says with a smirk, "I didn't program you to talk back."
"Certainly not, sir. You did, however, give me an intuitive language centre."
"I swear you get worse every day," replies Tony, shaking his head while he ushers Loki out the door, locking it behind them.
"I'll take that as a compliment," says Jarvis, ever-present even in the hallways.
"Yep, you would." Tony's grinning as he and Loki enter the elevator. "'Night, Loke," he says when they part ways, patting Loki on the shoulder companionably.
_oOo_
Things settle into a strange tranquility, after that. Loki spends most of the day, with the exception of a few sparring sessions and meals (he is capable of functioning like an adult, unlike some people), holed up alongside Tony, poring over blueprints and calculations, explaining magic in a way the mad scientist can incorporate into his scheming.
He has to dig deep to do this, too, since it's complicated to take something that has always been so instinctive, so natural to him, and reduce it into numbers and values. It's hard work, for both sorcerer and engineer.
When pressed for an explanation as to why he requires magic, Tony again repeats the debate about healing, gesturing wildly at Loki's blue features as he explains how Jötuns have apparently mastered the art of healing without combusting like the victims of the unperfected Extremis. He wants to take that ability to summon new skin cells, to repair damage, and input it into "nanobots", enabling him to conjure the Iron Man suit at will, store it within himself like Loki keeps his armour and helmet close and ready for use. At least, that's about as far as Loki understands it. It's not too far-fetched an idea.
Tony finally explains he had been toying with the concept for a while, which is why he had dug out the arc reactors and started using them again, never having bothered to remove the port in his chest since the surgery to do that was far too invasive.
Loki's mind, spinning with conversions and calculations, spells and translations, doesn't have much time to make him worry about much else. This suits him fine, since he has established there is not much he can do for the Sleipnir situation without first regaining full use of his magic. This, he figures, is one of the benefits of working with Stark. If they can manage to crack Extremis, they will also hold the answer for Loki's Jötun problem.
It's three weeks later and they've developed a routine. Tony, or Loki, whoever's most exhausted, will either head to bed or kip on the cot in the corner of the lab for a few hours at a time, while the other works on their side of the problem. With Jarvis' assistance, they've managed to compile all the data that they need in order to step out of the theoretical realm, and when they finally deem their research done, Tony asks, "Would it be ok if I asked Bruce for help with the nanobots?"
Loki, who has little idea of engineering, and much less about biology, just nods.
Their designs are pretty rudimentary still, since they absolutely need some external input before going into manufacturing, but the research is solid and they both have finally come to a point where they believe it will work. It took longer than most of Tony's projects usually do since they hit several translation roadblocks (Loki trying to explain magic in terms of energetic expenses), but they finally have a solid base to work on. And so they celebrate.
Tony busts out one of his best bottles of Whiskey, which Loki declines in favour of a couple glasses of wine. Tony's not as measured in his drinking as Loki, but his alcohol tolerance is much higher. They sit on the cot in the workshop, talk for hours on end, and Tony even convinces Dum-E to pour their drinks wearing a black bow-tie. The bot, in an uncharacteristic fit of coordination, manages not to drop any of the bottles he's shuffling, though he does confuse their drinks and insists on handing Loki the scotch. Dum-E fidgets dejectedly when Loki tries to correct his mistake, and so he does end up chugging the amber liquor, so as to not make the bot sad.
When Tony notices, he dissolves into giggles, eyes and nose scrunching together as he goes progressively pinker, trying to breathe through his laughter. Loki has a moment when he thinks Tony's never looked as attractive as he does now, good-humoured and loose-limbed from the alcohol.
Unfortunately, Tony's on his ninth consecutive whiskey and things devolve from there. While Loki's only now feeling lofty and buzzed, Tony's body is finally processing all the ethanol he's consumed, leaving him uncoordinated and with lower inhibitions. He insists they dance around the worktables, and Loki humours him, watching him twist and swing his hips to the sound of very loud pop music. Loki's having fun as well, twirling and jumping, to Tony's amusement, and forgetting, for a moment, just how many responsibilities and troubles he has weighing him down. It's invigorating and relaxing, and he turns to thank Tony for the opportunity to let go of his worries, but he stills when he notices just how the engineer's dancing now.
Tony's climbed onto a workbench when Loki wasn't looking, and he's swinging his body in time with the music, feet moving smoothly over the small surface. His hips are swaying effortlessly, and then he turns around and shows off an incredible view of his pert butt, bouncing to the beat. It's at Loki's eye level, and he can't tear his gaze from the way Tony's hips start swivelling and gyrating. He knows he's stopped moving, but it's only when he starts panting shallowly, breath coming only through his mouth, and green eyes roaming over the lithe figure in front of him that he realises he has to put a stop to it before more of his blood heads south and things take a turn into dangerous territory. He takes one last glimpse, a tendril of arousal zinging down to the base of his spine, and closes his eyes for a moment, collecting himself.
"Tony," he shouts over loud music, "Get down from there before you hurt yourself."
The man appears not to hear. He speaks again, "Jarvis, would you mind?"
The music stops almost instantly, and Loki thanks the AI quietly.
"Awwwww, Loki!" Tony whines, then slurs, "Don' stop the party, why are you stoppin the party?" The drink he has in his hand sloshes dangerously, threatening to spill.
"It's bedtime, Tony," he replies simply, taking a glance at the clock on the holographic display projecting onto the back wall of the room, "It's three in the morning."
"Don' have a bedtime," Tony replies proudly, then turns and proclaims, "Jarvis! Music!" before slipping on spilled alcohol and nearly braining himself on the stand of the soldering wand.
Jarvis replies, "I'm afraid I agree with Master Loki, Sir. You have a blood alcohol level of 1.81 based on my calculations."
"Party poopers," Tony mutters from where he's lying on the workbench, but he's starting to curl up with his hands under his head to use as a pillow.
"Come, Tony," Loki coaxes, "let's get you to your room before you fall asleep somewhere you'll regret in the morning."
"I never regret it in the mornin'," says Tony with a suggestive eyebrow lift, but he still rolls over the edge of the table. It's only Loki's reflexes, admittedly slower when drunk, that help him catch Tony before he lands face-first into he floor.
"All right," Loki murmurs, then swings the compact, limp body over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, heading for the elevator. Tony giggles. "Yes?" Loki prompts.
"You're carryin' me to bed," replies Tony, then giggles again, "You're strong."
"I'm a god," Loki says with a sigh, "In case you're too drunk to remember."
Tony's quiet as Loki sets him down and leans him against the wall of the elevator. When the door opens with a ding on Tony's floor, Loki wraps the man's arm around his shoulders and leads him to the bedroom, flopping him face down on the bed. He then heads to the kitchenette, pours Tony a glass of water, and then grabs two painkillers out of a bottle Jarvis points out. He has Tony take those and drink the entire glass of water, then goes to refill it and leaves it on the nightstand.
"Hey, Lo'?" Tony asks when the sorcerer's unlacing his shoes. Loki hums in acknowledgement. "Your eyes're pretty."
Loki smiles down at him, says, "Good night, Tony," and then turns to leave.
"Night, Lo'", Tony says quietly behind him. When he's almost at the door, he hears a mumble of, "Hate t' see ya go, love t' watch ya leave." He freezes with a hand on the door handle, but before he can think of a reply (and really, when was the last time words left him like that?) he hears a deep snore. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
_oOo_
What happens next isn't really a surprise.
Loki finds himself underneath a compact, warm body, and without much hesitation, slides a hand up to tangle in the short strands of his companion's hair. There's a pleased hum and the man leans closer until they're sharing breath.
"You really do have pretty eyes," he says. Loki is, in turn, staring deep into brown orbs through the blue glow that illuminates the space between their chests. The sorcerer has the vague sensation that he should be feeling apprehensive, but he isn't really. He knows he should be concerned, should back down and tell Tony to leave, but he doesn't actually want to. He's tired of fear, of depriving himself of this, and he even finds that he wants it. A lot, if the growing warmth in his belly is any indication.
The hand still clenched in short hair tilts Tony's head back and down to mash their mouths together in a kiss that, despite its uncoordinated start, turns heated very quickly. Loki releases his tight hold on the man's hair, one hand curving around a bicep as the kiss continues. One of his legs comes up to rest on the swell of Tony's ass, and Tony's fingers start roaming up and down the pale flesh of his thigh, leaving tingling trails behind. They kiss for so long, sharing light touches and moving sensuously together, that it feels as if they don't need to break apart for air.
When they do, Loki can already feel something blunt and wet bumping against his erection. He moves his hips, sliding their cocks together while they both pant into the space between their mouths. Tony moves to mouth at Loki's neck, nibbling a path from collarbone to pulse point to earlobe and back, then starting it again with his tongue. Loki tilts his head to the side to allow more access, whining softly when Tony finds a good spot. Their hips still rock together, the rhythm of their movements faster now, and Loki closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in the sensations, feeling safe in his lover's embrace.
When he finally takes stock of himself again, there's a pleasant buzz at the base of his spine, and there is dampness between his legs. His body feels loose, his limbs soft as he remains cuddled to Tony's chest. They kiss once more, then separate to look at each other. Tony's hair is spiked with sweat and he's breathing fast, but the grin he aims at Loki is blinding. He lets his eyes roam the handsome features for a moment longer, then turns around in the circle of Tony's arms.
"Ready?" Tony whispers into his ear with a fond voice.
Loki hums in agreement and turns his head back for a kiss as the head of Tony's cock slides into him. There's a tiny frown on Loki's face, because there's a nagging feeling that he should be pulling away, but he feels so safe and protected that he doesn't actually want to follow the instinct.
Tony seems to know this, though, because he goes slowly, murmuring endearments in Loki's ear until he's all the way inside, and keeps still until Loki relaxes into his embrace again. When he starts moving, he thrusts deep and slow, each shove glancing leisurely over Loki's prostate and making the sorcerer whine quietly. Through the haze of pleasure he registers one of his hands is clenching the corner of the pillow, the other reaching back to rest on Tony's lower back, pulling the man closer as his back arches, pushing his hips against the thrusts and letting the cock in him slide deeper.
Tony changes his movements then, still driving his hips as slowly and deeply as before, but now he stills after each shove inwards and he grinds his hips in a tiny circle against Loki.
The sharp spike of pleasure melts its way down his spine, forcing a gasp out of Loki. He shoves backwards with more force, pulls Tony to him with a grip that's bound to leave red lines on his skin, and pants out, "Haah! Tony, I'm… Nnn!… I'm not going to last…"
Tony, encouraged, quickens his pace, still thrusting precisely where Loki needs it, panting against Loki's ear in between soft bites.
Loki whines, pleasure starting to unravel, and suddenly he's rutting against the edge of his bed, clenching the sheets in both hands in his dark room, and muffling a shout into the pillow as he comes in his pyjama pants. His face feels sweaty, the sheets stick to his skin, and he tries to roll off the wet patch, succeeding only in tangling his feet in the sheets and taking a tumble off the edge of the bed.
He lies there, on the carpet beside his very much empty bed in his dark room, feeling the remains of his orgasm start to cool uncomfortably on his thigh and sticking the fabric of his pants to his leg. All this after having the hottest wet dream of his life in which the only person on Midgard he would call his friend all but fucks him from behind in the most vulnerable position imaginable. Loki feels confused, almost like he's been betrayed by both his body and his subconscious, and yet he feels sated and secure in a way he hasn't felt in over five years. Which is also confusing and, if he's going to be honest with himself, very, very frightening.
What. Even.