Author's note: Oh, and I got even more lovely fanart, this time from Ellandra who has drawn some much asked for Tony!dress-up time, Asgardian style! :D No direct linking yada yada you know the drill, so in order to check it out, head over to AO3 and look up the profile name Ellandra. ^^
In other news, wow, I can't believe this story has actually passed the 4000 reviews mark, thank you so much for all your wonderful support! Heh, I remember one week after chapter one got posted, this story sported a whopping total of four reviews… needless to say, I never even imagined that I would somehow eventually receive one thousand times as many. ;) So, again, thanks a lot, you guys are amazing! :D
A groan of pleasure escapes his lips as he lets his head fall back against the polished, rounded stones behind him. The water lapping against his skin is delightfully hot, and the elevated temperature is doing wonders for his stiff muscles and the tension still remaining from all that's transpired during his visit in Asgard.
Tony lets himself slip further down into the heated goodness, seating himself on one of the lower steps that are leading down into the bottom of the basin so that the water reaches all the way up to his chin before closing his eyes for a few seconds. It's an almost tangible sensation, how the strain is draining away from him, and all from simply submerging himself into a pool of steaming water.
So they don't have real showers here in Asgard, but a hot bath is definitely the next best thing, if not even better. He's glad he eventually let Thor convince him to try out the Asgardian baths before their departure back home, despite how much he had wanted to just get the hell out of here.
Feeling giddy, he lets his hand break the near-still surface, making little waves and splashing water over the rock-covered wall encircling the hollowed-out depression serving as hot tub. The only thing missing for the picture to be complete would be a yellow rubber duck.
There are several little pools and basins in the bathhouse, but he's the only one here, and he really cherishes the opportunity to be alone for a few moments. Thor is currently keeping a watch out on Loki, allowing Tony some well-deserved time off.
He remains sitting on the bottom step for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of having his entire body submerged in the steaming water. Even though he has a hot tub back in his tower, he rarely uses it, usually preferring a sizzling but much quicker shower. He makes a mental note to start using it more frequently, though.
After perhaps ten minutes of this, he slowly scoots his ass upwards, planting it a few steps higher so that the water is lapping at his waist. Whistling, he reaches out for the little hollow to his left containing a bar of soap, rubbing the green, sweetly scented thing between his palms until his hands are covered by a rich lather.
Just then, there is a slight creak behind him. He turns, just in time to see the door open and Loki slip inside, his feet soundless against the wet floor as he makes his way to the basin where Tony is sitting.
Tony's brows wrinkle at the unexpected sight. What's Loki doing here? He should be with Thor.
"Wasn't your brother supposed to be keeping an eye on you?" Tony asks with a voice slightly harsher than intended. Having Loki wander around on his own with all the weirdos and freaks running around in this place is not a thought that appeals to him in the slightest, not after everything that has happened.
Loki gives him a non-committal shrug, slender shoulders inching upwards for a second. "I told him I'd take the opportunity to use the baths while you were in here." He comes to a halt at the side of the basin, a few yards away from where Tony is sitting, hands still covered in foaming lather that's starting to smell like an entire meadow. "Thor escorted me here, and is currently waiting in the library right across the hall."
With that, he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one graceful motion and lets it fall on the little raised stone podium to his left apparently serving as clothes storage area for visiting bathers.
He can hear Loki removing the rest of his clothes too, but by then Tony has already turned his head away and is staring straight ahead of him. A few splashes to his left inform him that Loki is entering the pool, sitting himself down on one of the upper steps.
Of course, he makes a valiant effort not to look, to act as if the green-eyed god isn't sitting in all his naked glory a few yards away, but his endeavours are thwarted only moments later, as his uncooperative eyes, as if moving by their own volition, rake the lean body up and down. Several times.
He can't help but to notice the bruises on the god's arms from the dungeon incident, and he finds himself distinctly grateful that there is no one else in the bath, or they would probably have thought Tony responsible for putting them there. Not that anyone here would have been likely to hold that against him – he suspects they'd sooner applaud him than scold him – but still.
"Asgardian baths are quite relaxing," Loki says, reaching for the bar of soap. "I trust you agree?"
Yeah, they're relaxing alright. It didn't take long lying around in this pool before his entire body went limp. Although, it now appears as if there's one treacherous body part of his that is well on its way to recover from its state of softness. Even though he's spent several nights with the god lying almost naked right beside him in bed, he had made sure to turn his head whenever Loki got undressed, and whatever physical reaction he might have sported had been safely hidden beneath the bed cover. Now, he doesn't have that protective luxury any longer.
"Uh-huh," he mutters, feeling like an idiot.
At least he's in to his waist, the steaming water offering him at least some semblance of cover. Hoping to hide the embarrassing state that is growing worse by the second, he slips deeper into the water, praying that Loki isn't going to notice anything out of the ordinary. He's already been through this one time too many.
Of course, he didn't bring any bathing trunks, not expecting that a hot bath would be part of the all-inclusive stay. He sincerely regrets that now. Thor, however, had only laughed heartily, slapping his thighs in amusement as if being told a funny joke, when Tony had questioned the appropriateness of bathing naked in public. Why would anyone want to wear clothes while bathing? Perhaps it is a strange Midgardian custom to remain clothed during such activities, but it is an unheard of practice here. The Thunderer even had to wipe his eyes after the worst laughing fits had subsided, his vision clouded by tears.
And since he didn't particularly feel like becoming the laughing stock of all of Asgard, if Thor's reaction was anything to go by, he had let it at that. It wasn't as if he had anything to be ashamed of that couldn't stand a few admiring gazes.
Loki, on his hand, obliviously remains sitting on the step with water up to his waist, rolling the bar of smelly soap between his palms a few times as he works up a rich lather. Then he plops the bar back in the little hollow as he proceeds to rub the foamy substance over his arms and down over his chest and stomach.
And Tony is trying to look away, he really is, but the sight is too mesmerizing and the grip on his self-control far too loose. His eyes are glued to the little unintentionally erotic scene unfolding before him, stuck to it as surely as had they been fastened with an army of staples and nails and super adhesives.
So he only sits there and watches in transfixion as Loki lathers himself up like he's the star of some amateur porn movie, hands and long fingers deftly moving over his own body.
Tony swallows. Suddenly his throat and mouth feel as dry as the Sahara desert.
And he realizes that he's still sitting there with girly-smelling foam on his hands, looking like a moron.
So he brusquely rubs the stuff into his own chest and arms, not out of any sudden desire for cleanliness, but in the vain hopes that the foamy soap will muddle the water around him, making it murky enough to prevent his obvious arousal from showing, in case Loki should accidentally throw an eye into that direction.
Having finished lathering himself up in that inadvertently obscene way, the god slips down to dunk himself in the water, rinsing the soap off his body and out of his hair. Wiping the water off his face, he then hoists himself back up again, seating himself on what is probably two steps higher up than last time, unabashedly revealing body parts that would have him arrested were he in a similar establishment in America. Rivulets of water are running down his naked, glistening body, and Tony shrinks further down into the water as his cock greedily twitches at the magnificent sight.
Then the god turns his head towards Tony, watching him as unperturbed as if they were sitting fully clothed on the couch in his living room and not butt-naked a mere few yards away from each other. "Do you want help soaping your back?" he asks, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Oh hell yes, his mouth wants to say.
"No," is what it actually says, though. "I'm a big boy. I can wash myself, thank you." He can hear that his voice is more strained than usual, but he hopes the god doesn't notice the sudden tenseness. Relaxing, my ass. Fighting Victor Doom is more relaxing than this goddamn bath.
Loki watches him unwaveringly in silence for a few moments, as if he's pondering something deep and important.
Then, in one fluid motion, the god slips down next to him, his body moving smoothly and quickly like he's some alien mermaid and the breath hitches in Tony's throat at the sudden, unexpected closeness.
"Then perhaps there's something else I can help you with?"
Before Tony has the chance to react, to even croak out a word from his restricting throat, a hand slips under the water surface and goes for his now painfully erect groin. The shock at the intimate touch makes him freeze like a deer in headlights at absolute zero temperature. And during the endless moment that passes before his body can move again, a million swirling thoughts have already passed through his muddled brain.
But what stands out the most is something that's only all too painfully clear – Loki is doing exactly what Tony told him to do – acting like it's expected of a slave in Asgard. And as he's been shown with painstaking clarity, it includes this too. Pleasing his master, serving him in bed. Or in the bathhouse, or whatever.
It was never his intention to include this part, of course, but he never stopped to think that Loki might not have realized that. And apparently, he chose a more literal interpretation, and now the god's hand is wrapped around his cock and Loki is leaning into him and- fuck.
Finally released from his paralysis, he grabs Loki's wrist in a vise-like grip, pushing it away from his body. "Stop it," he says, though it sounds more like a feral growl than anything else. "I didn't ask you for this." Well, perhaps he inadvertently did by framing his previous request for Asgard-approved behaviour the way he did, but he sure as hell didn't intentionally ask for it.
The look of confusion on the god's face would have been comical under other circumstances, but now it's not funny in the least.
"Yeah, I know this counts as appropriate here in Asgard, but it sure as hell doesn't where I come from, so don't ever do anything like this again," Tony snaps, more angry at himself than at anyone else. He should have known better, should have chosen his words more carefully. He knows very well by now what's expected of slaves in Asgard – even if Loki hadn't explained it to him, it would still have been clear enough from the insinuations from both Arnulf and Geir about Tony using his slave for sex, the large bed presented to them without question, to say nothing of Loki's own assumptions when he arrived in Tony's tower. There is no doubt as to what is expected from a slave here, and he told Loki to act like that not only once, but twice, since coming to Asgard. How could he have been so stupid, so thoughtless?
"I thought that-" Loki begins, sounding hesitant, incomprehension marring his features.
"Well, you thought wrong," Tony interrupts him, not wanting to hear what Loki actually thought. He knows it already, and it makes him sick to his stomach.
Loki looks like he's on the verge of saying something else, but then relents, his half-open mouth snapping shut.
Tony lets go of the wrist he realizes he's still holding in a bruising grip and Loki's hand falls to his side like a dead weight. "My apologies, then," the god intones stiffly, formally. "It was not my intention to upset you."
And really, the one apologizing should be Tony, not Loki, but he just can't bring himself to do it right now. "Just… get out," he mutters instead, not sure he can stand another moment in the god's presence. "Go back to Thor."
Loki obeys without question, splashing Tony with water as he abruptly stands up and steps out of the basin, just barely stopping to pick his clothes up and dress himself as he makes for the door, not turning around as he walks out, leaving Tony alone in the room.
Damn.
He totally fucked this up. And here he had been so sure the worst had already passed, that there wouldn't be any more of these… misunderstandings between them. That Loki had long since realized that Tony didn't expect any sexual favours from him, slave or not, and yet, he'd still been metaphorically punched right into his face like this.
He sighs, slipping further into the water until he's entirely submerged, feeling like a total imbecile. His erection has already shrivelled and died, his cock once more as limp as it was before the god made his entrance.
The unease in his stomach is like a coiling snake, and it's making him feel almost ill. And it doesn't help that he just then remembers the very vivid dream he had about Loki last night, featuring the god nuzzling up to him as they were lying in bed together, slowly trailing his fingers over Tony's body, a hand even going down to sweep over his crotch.
And the memory of just how good Loki's hand had felt around his cock only moments ago sure doesn't help either.
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