Tony doesn't know how long he's been on the roof, but it's been long enough for him to sober up enough to realize that he's half naked, covered in sweat and glitter, and that he's ditched Pepper for the second time.
"But she'll have to understand." Tony says to no one. If Loki Lauff had called her back stage—er—up roof— she'd've ditched him in half a second. Tony's got no doubt about that, and now that he's seen the man play he can understand why. He sits on the edge of the roof and lets his calves and feet dangle as if swinging on a hinge.
The fact that the city of Los Angeles bustles around him unaware of what's about to happen seems almost impossible to Tony.
"Come on, Loki." His voice is raw from singing at the top of his lungs. "I haven't even met you and you're already driving me nuts."
Tony is ready to scratch his skin off. He feels like the wait is steadily killing him. He'd moved from hysterically wondering what he was even going to say to the man to contemplating throwing himself off the roof just to escape the wait.
"Quite the view, isn't it?"
Tony knows that voice and he's going to die and he can feel his heart punching his kidneys and some kind of inhuman noise trying to bust open his teeth and escape and when he looks down at the grey trashed street he thinks 'What view, exactly? England must be really goddamn dismal if this is Loki Lauff's idea of a view'.
And then he looks over and sees the man himself standing by the one door leading to the roof. He's wrapped in a silvery fur coat and his black hair is slicked back behind his ears, but poking out in spikes which spill onto the fur. A green and silver cigarette holder as long as a child's arm is dangling from one of his long white hands, and Tony can suddenly see him on the front of a Vodka bottle.
Then he realizes that Loki isn't talking about the street at all. Tony suddenly finds himself wondering if his mother was right about the devil after all.
Tony swears he can see a city of gold in those eyes. A city where the rivers run with wine so old it's nearly dust.
A chill runs down his spine and he swears he can feel one of those long hands scratch playfully against his skin, mapping whatever's beneath and turning it to simple sensation.
"If you like concrete." Says Tony, because even when he's too stunned to think the sass rolls off him like oil on a duck, and if he takes his time walking toward Loki, and walks like he's shedding invisible layers of cloth just to watch those green eyes burn, well…
"You look familiar." Says Loki Lauff as one of his impossibly long hands curls around Tony's side, the thumb nearly hooking his waist and touching his back and his long fingers sear lines against his spine.
He is impossibly tall, each line of his body stretching on longer than the last, and Tony wonders what the hell they feed them in England.
"It's funny," Says Tony and his glib falls flat. His voice has been cracked open and split, desire is oozing thick between his teeth.
"What's funny?" Loki's voice is half a whisper and those slender fingers are tracing the slim, barely there muscles beneath Tony's darker skin, the nails scraping so lightly Tony almost can't feel them, and it's like a whole new kind of buzz.
"I was just thinking the same about you." Says Tony and suddenly his hands are being pulled through fur and through silk and against cool, naked skin. The hands around his wrists are long and slender and strong, they nearly dwarf his own, and something about the power he can feel thrumming there sends Tony's brain straight off line.
"How old are you?" Asks Loki and it takes Tony a good few seconds to realize that he asked anything at all.
"Ah…umm….19." He finally manages and suddenly there's a hand the size of his skull curling in the hairs at the nape of his neck and tilting his head all the way back and a chuckle against his throat. The brush of lips is like a brand.
"You're just a baby."
Tony wants to make some kind of retort but suddenly he discovers that every nerve in his entire body is connected to some spot behind his ear that Loki is worrying at with his teeth.
He feels the fur of Loki's coat sticking to his overheated skin and a hand slowly curl around his entire hip and this slow burn is unlike anything he's ever felt. Those fingers tap thoughtfully at his ass cheek, in some unknown rhythm, and Tony feels himself disappearing inside it.
"I had considered having you right here, on this roof."
For a second Tony swears he's gone blind.
"But after hearing the noises you make I don't think I could bear to keep you quiet."
Suddenly Tony realizes that someone is moaning and whining like a bitch in heat and he thinks that he must have gone deaf hours ago, because how could he not have heard the sounds coming out of his own goddamn mouth.
"Oh god." He breathes out as two fingers close around his nipple and tug and—
Tony almost feels criminally cheated for not knowing about that before, or he will later when he's not too busy keening and close to sobbing.
"Yes?" Asks Loki with an expression like he's making a clever joke, and Tony wants to understand it, but he wants those hands back on him even more. Suddenly Loki's smoking again from that ridiculous cigarette holder. It's dangling from between his fingers and Tony wants to be that bit of silver and green more than he's wanted to be anything in his entire life.
He can't breathe.
"Got a name, baby?"
Tony thinks he must have one. In fact he knows he must. He wonders if he left it somewhere. "Ah…ummm…Tony." He says.
"Oooh. Italian?" Asks Loki and the way he says it combined with the lustful gaze he shoots solely at Tony's crotch makes Tony suddenly feel like he's standing naked in front of the entire state of California.
And that they're going to eat his penis.
Tony isn't about to correct Loki.
He manages to stay still, but he's blushing like a child caught out of bed too late. Suddenly his bare feet are incredibly interesting.
Tony's always been the hunter, remember? Punched more V cards than Bruce Lee punched people in the face, remember?
When Loki looks at him like he's going to swallow him whole Tony forgets how to breathe.
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy you." Purrs Loki and Tony doesn't know what to do with himself.
"You ever been to the Bellisade, baby?"
The most expensive luxury hotel in the city of Los Angeles? Tony was conceived there. He had one of his childhood birthdays there. He doesn't remember which one, but he knows it happened. One of his nannies told him.
His warm brown eyes flicker from beneath his eyelashes before returning to his toes.
"No." He says softly and when Loki smiles Tony is reminded of a shark.
He is suddenly conscious that his body rushes with fresh blood, and the only thing separating it from Loki can be pierced with a safety pin.
"Well, we're going to get you nice and familiar."
One of those long white hands is sticking out of the silvery-white fur and Tony grabs onto it only to be pulled against a cool expanse of long naked skin. Loki is almost a head taller than him, and even when he stands on his toes their mouths barely touch. Tony settles for pressing his lips to that long neck and dragging his nails down miles of miles of spine until he's got both of his hands where he wants them.
He holds Loki's ass in both hands and squeezes.
"Mmmmmmm." Hums Loki and suddenly Tony finds himself pressed against the door leading back into the venue, both of his hands pinned above his head and naked skin keeping him flushed against the splintering wood.
"Now behave." Loki whispers in his ear and it has the exact opposite effect, as suddenly Tony doesn't even know what he wants but he wants it now.
"Never." Breathes Tony and when Loki chuckles against his throat it reverberates throughout his entire body.
"Oh, I do believe I like you."
Before Tony knows it he's being led into the building and down the stairs.
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