Author's note: Whee, I'm happy that so many readers have decided to follow this story. And if you should wish to leave a review on the way out, I will be even happier. :) With that, on to chapter 2!
Tony's eyebrows dart upwards at the unexpected but oh-so-satisfying sight. Loki really is kneeling. Before him, no less. For a moment, he isn't sure whether his eyes are playing tricks with him, and he blinks a couple of times, but the image doesn't change or even flicker. No mirages or wishful thinking there.
Loki's hands are still clenched into fists, and for some reason that makes a smile creep into Tony's face. The god clearly isn't enjoying this at all and Tony wonders if this is the first time he's ever had to kneel before someone. Most certainly before a mere human.
Darn, he hadn't expected that it would make him feel so good, seeing Loki like this. But there is a warm bubble of triumph in his stomach, and it's growing bigger by the second.
You decided to invade our world just so you could see humanity on its collective knees before you, huh? Well guess who's now on the receiving end? How do you like it now, huh?
And Tony knows that the inner harangue is merely his own brain trying to rationalize things – yeah, he's justifiably pissed at Loki alright, because the guy attacked Earth, tried to lay the whole planet under his rule, brought an alien army to New York and killed a lot of people and all that. But still, the main reason for his ire isn't that, not really. No, it's way more personal than that.
Because last time Loki was here, he threw Tony out the window.
Just like that, he waltzed into Tony's home like he was the one living there, threatened him, tried to take over his mind just like he did with Barton. And when that plan miserably failed, the enraged god simply put a hand around his throat, hoisting him up and disdainfully throwing him out the window like a useless rag doll.
Just like that.
And that's what makes this whole thing personal. Sure, Loki isn't the first one who's tried to kill him, oh no, others have tried and failed. But fighting some super villain while in his Iron Man suit is on a whole other level of different. He's been there, done that and never really felt resentment about it, because at least he had the means to fight and to protect himself, the playing fields were even. All a normal day in the job.
But Loki didn't play by the rules. No, he decided to take the fight into the sanctity of Tony's own home, catching him unprepared. Not only unprepared, but helpless. Powerless. He still remembers that crushing feeling of panic as he got lifted from the ground by the throat, unable to do a thing. And getting defenestrated hurt, to say nothing of the fear of falling to what he was sure would be his certain death. He still has nightmares about that, nightmares that wake him up with heart pounding and sheets drenched in his own sweat.
Tony's skin is crawling, and he's not sure if it's the unpleasant memories or anger or something else. He notices that Loki is studying him warily, eyes narrowed. No doubt, the god is far from oblivious to the emotions playing out on Tony's face, knowing full well that it doesn't herald anything good. For him. Given that they're both standing – alright, kneeling, in Loki's case – in the very same room where the two of them had their little let's-throw-Tony-out-the-window encounter, the god is sure to know exactly what kind of thoughts are going through Tony's mind right now.
The knowledge that Loki, until now, has certainly not paid a second's thoughts to all that since he waltzed out of Stark Tower without even an inkling of remorse, while Tony has relieved those terrifying moments more times than he cares to think about, grates him.
He wants to see some of that remorse on Loki's face, though, however little. He deserves it. Though, Tony isn't sure if the 'he' is supposed to refer to himself or to Loki.
So he walks behind the bar counter, which is lined with a haphazard row of bottles, some empty, others in varying states of fullness. But he's not going for those – though heavens know he could sure use a drink. Instead he pulls out a drawer hidden under the counter, inspecting the contents.
After the whole Loki affair, he put the thing there, not wanting to be taken so damnably unprepared again. Not that the risk of him being surprised by another super-villain in the very same room as last time is particularly big, not to really motivate this, but still. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. Merely knowing it was there gave him back some of the sense of security that he lost after being attacked by Loki in his own tower.
He picks up the black stick, fiddling with it for a couple of seconds. The handle is smooth and oddly warm against his palm. He can't really remember which country he had this imported from now, but it doesn't matter, this particular model is used by some police force somewhere on whichever continent. Wouldn't be allowed in American forces though, the voltage goes too high.
Smacking the end of it into his palm a couple of times, he can't help but to notice how the sound makes Loki shifts slightly on the ground, shoulders tensing up. Making him all nervous, huh? Serves him right.
He walks up to the god again, only hesitating a short moment before placing the end of the shock stick under Loki's chin, tilting his face upwards. The pang of satisfaction as he sees the god swallow makes his stomach flutter oddly. It's obvious he knows exactly what the thing in Tony's hand is, what it can do. Probably the guy made sure to do his homework before launching his attack on the planet and read up on Earth's weaponry so he'd know what counter defence to expect.
Okay, so he isn't really gonna turn it on, but Loki doesn't need to know that. Let the bastard think he will.
"Alright, princess," he says, glad his voice sounds just as steady and menacing as he hoped it would. "Let's make a few things clear from the very start, seeing as how you are most unfortunately going to be living under my roof for the foreseeable future." He presses the stick harder into Loki's chin as he speaks, hoping to earn at least a wince from the god, and is rewarded with a clenching of already tight jaws.
"Now, you will follow my rules, do as I say, and don't even think about causing any trouble. You try to harm or even threat another human being again, or do anything that will put this planet into any form of danger, and I swear you will live to regret the day you were born."
Creative there, Tony, really creative. Especially that last line, truly worthy of an Oscar.
It irks him how his usual suave seems to have disappeared into thin air, leaving only enough wit for one of the most unoriginal threats he's ever uttered, like something straight out of a shitty spy movie not even worthy of a B-rating.
But he pushes that thought away and instead lets the stick slowly trace its way across Loki's jaw line as he continues to speak, voice dripping with icy coldness. "I'm sure you know what this thing does. And let me tell you, I'm this close," he holds his thumb and forefinger out, a mere hair's breadth between them, "to turn it on just so I can watch you squirm. As a little payback for the time you decided it would be a great idea to throw me out that window over there." His hand gestures sharply to the glass pane behind them. "So you better not make anything that will tip me over that very, very thin edge."
Loki is perfectly still, and Tony is sure the god is holding his breath. Stewing a little now, are we?
A strange sense of giddiness is enveloping him, making the room seem to spin a little. He has total power over this pathetic joke of a god, over that someone who fucked both him and the planet up their metaphorical asses. This arrogant, self-serving son of a bitch…
Maybe he should stop there, but he can't, so instead he traces the stick down to Loki's collarbone, and then back to under his chin, tilting it up even further, making the god look him into the eye again. He's not done with him just yet.
"This little beauty goes up to 100.000 volts. Quite a bit more than what's allowed in the police forces here in the States. If you'd like to try it out what it feels like, let me assure you that I will be more than happy to oblige. In your current, magic-liberated shape I'm sure you'll feel all the pain that a simple mortal would," Tony continues, pushing the stick harder into that pale skin.
And that's when he sees it. Just a flicker at first, but then it's slowly spreading until it's painted all over Loki's face.
Fear.
And that's when the sweet rush of power deflates, like hot air leaking out of a balloon. The room is no longer spinning and suddenly it's just him standing there, holding a stick under the chin of a fallen and powerless god. The feeling of triumphant spite from only moments ago is fading away, leaving only an uneasy sense of hollowness in its wake.
He lets his hand fall.
And Loki seems to be breathing once more, slumping slightly as his chest starts to heave again.
A sudden desire to just walk out of the room and leave the god hunched on the floor comes over Tony, but he resists it. He needs to say something more, to finish off what he's started.
"Do we understand each other," he finally manages, but the question is too flat to actually sound like a question and not a plain statement.
A moment of silence. Then:
"We do."
The words sound as tired and empty as Tony is feeling.
I realize that slightly vindictive!Tony in this chapter might rub some people the wrong way, but oh well.
Anyway, what I "feared" when I started writing this, knowing myself, has now happened. I just couldn't leave well alone and the outline of what was supposed to be a rather simple kink prompt has now expanded into an actual story in its own right, so this will be a lot longer than I originally intended. Several loose ends that I was going to simply leave unattended will now be elaborated on, and things will move in a somewhat different direction than was my first intention, meaning, among other things, that the story will turn out a bit fluffier than what I first envisioned. Anyway, I hope you stay tuned for the next update! :)