Danger, Will Robinson—there be shameless porn ahead!
This chapter is why I bumped up the rating.
This is the last disclaimer until the end of the story, so here we go—Erika belongs to me, Jormungand belongs to everyone and no one, and everyone else belongs to Marvel. I'm not making money off of this.
Loki watched the budding romance between his son and Steven Rogers with mixed feelings. He was happy for his son, but he knew first-hand how fickle mortal men were—they were quick to love, but even quicker to move on.
He said as much to Jormungand, but his second eldest didn't seem worried.
"Let it go, Let it go!"
"Please stop."
"And I'll rise like the break of dawn!"
"I'm serious."
"Let it go, Let it go!"
"Kiddo, I'm begging you."
"That perfect girl is gone!"
"Stop or I'll be forced to take drastic measures."
"Here I stand, In the light of day!"
"Ugh, I hate this song."
"Let the storm rage on!"
"For the love of God, STOP."
"The cold never bothered me anyway!"
. . . . .
"Are you finished?"
"Yep."
Jormungand watched as his sister set up a camera in the Tower's main living room.
"Do I even want to know?" he asked.
Erika shrugged. "I'm doing it for the Vine."
Later, as Jormungand sat in the living room with Steve, Clint, and Natasha, he sensed his sister's approach.
She stood at the back of the couch and held her right hand behind her back.
Before Jormungand could ask what she was doing, she quickly reached over the back of the couch and slapped Steve in the face, leaving what looked like whipped cream on his face, and then she turned tail and ran back out of the room.
Jormungand looked at the cream on Steve's face and had to remind himself that they weren't alone, and Steve wouldn't appreciate it if Jormungand licked it off him in front of others.
Neither Steve nor Jormungand were sure what had just happened, but Natasha was holding back a laugh and Clint was laughing so hard he was doubled over.
Later, they went on the internet and researched what Natasha had called a 'smack cam.'
"Okay, that's actually pretty funny," said Steve, chuckling. "At least the cream rinsed off okay."
Jormungand told Steve what he had been thinking of doing earlier.
Steve went red.
Erika was super-excited.
She'd been planning to have the perfect banana split all day, but she'd had to wait until that night. She painstakingly scooped out just the right amounts of Ice cream and added it to her perfectly cut banana.
"There, now it just needs some cool whip, cherries, and nuts," she said to herself, going to the fridge,
She opened the door, looked around, and frowned.
"Where the Hel did my ReddiWhip go?"
One of the best thing about Steve, Jormungand decided, was that once they got past all the awkwardness, the Super Soldier was actually one of the best fucks he'd ever had. He was gentle, yet rough when it was needed. He was considerate, always putting Jormungand's needs before his.
He was also extremely open-minded for a man raised in the nineteen-forties.
"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" Jormungand asked, kneeling hard and naked on Steve's bed with an equally hard and naked Steve laid out beside him.
Steve nodded.
"If you want me to stop, let me know," said Jormungand, reaching over to Steve's nightstand to retrieve the spray can of whipped cream he had swiped from the fridge earlier (almost anything edible on Midgard was available in a can, and it astounded Jormungand).
"I'm fine," said Steve. "It's not like we're doing anything drastic."
"The offer to restrain and gag me still stands, by the way," said Jormungand almost offhandedly.
Steve's face reddened as his brain fed him an image of a tied-up Jormungand, a vibrator in his ass and Steve's cock in his mouth.
His cock twitched.
"Jesus. Um. Okay. Let's just stick to the whipped cream for now."
"As you wish." Jormungand shook the can, then sprayed a small dollop of cream on the tip of Steve's cock. He flicked his tongue over the tip, lapping up the cream.
Steve took a deep breath through his nose.
There was no way he was going to last very long.
Their night started with Jormungand licking various parts of Steve, but it ended with Jormungand impaled on Steve's cock, leaning back against Steve and bouncing up and down while Steve jerked him off.
Jormungand made a high-pitched keening sound, bouncing in time with Steve's strokes and thrusting up into Steve's hand. One of his hands reached up behind him and gripped the back of Steve's neck. He twisted enough so he could kiss Steve—not like their first kiss, but all tongue and teeth, leaving a trail of saliva connecting their mouths when they parted.
"You gonna cum for me?" Steve asked. Dirty talk was, as it turned out, a hidden kink of his.
Well, semi-dirty, anyway.
Jormungand whined again and nodded before leaning his head back on Steve's shoulder—he'd adjusted his height, so now he was just a hair shorter than Steve.
"Come on, cum for me."
Jormungand's orgasm had him shrieking while ropes of cum splattered his stomach and Steve's hand. He clenched around Steve's cock, and that, combined with the noises Jormungand were currently making, was enough to send Steve over the edge. Steve waited until both of them were finished, then pulled his softening cock out of Jormungand and laid the dark haired man down on his back.
Jormungand whined and grasped for Steve when he moved to leave the bed, but Steve shook him off—they were both covered in sweat, cum, and, in Jormungand's case, lubrication, and no magic meant Jormungand couldn't just vanish the mess.
Jormungand looked like he would have pouted if he wasn't still reeling from his orgasm. He merely laid there and let Steve wipe off his stomach and thighs. As soon as Steve crawled into bed, Jormungand latched onto him.
Steve smiled and kissed the top of Jormungand's head. He'd never told him, but Steve thought a post-coital Jormungand was adorable.
Who knew the World Serpent liked to cuddle?
"Elska þig," Jormungand mumbled.
Steve had heard that often enough to know what it meant. "Love you, too," he said back, pulling the other man closer.
Erika and Jormungand were playing Xbox while Steve sat and watched, and Thor appeared on the balcony in a shower of lightening.
"Dad, Thor's back!" Erika yelled towards the kitchen, not even looking away from the screen and yelling in triumph as she won the game, leaping to her feet. "K.O., Bitch! In your FACE!" She plopped back down on the floor, glancing towards Thor. "Where ya been, He-Man?"
"I had been called way to attend to some business," said Thor.
"Cool. Want a poptart?"
"Nay, I have no need of poptarts at the moment."
Tony entered the room. "Hey, big guy, long time, no hear."
"Man of Iron!" yelled Thor, gathering Tony in a bear hug. "It is a great pleasure seeing you again!" He plopped Tony down, who was trying to catch his breath. "Gather the Avengers! I have brought a treat from my home!"
Thor's 'treat' turned out to be Asgardian Ale, strong enough to knock even the Almighty Thor on his ass. They gathered and drank, and for the first time since he could remember, Steve could feel the effects of alcohol buzzing through his veins.
About halfway through their night, Tony, Clint, Steve, and Natasha sat down to teach Thor, Jormungand and Fenrir (he promised to behave) poker (strip poker had been banned). Loki sat by Tony and watched (he wasn't allowed to play with them anymore), Steve sat by Natasha with Jormungand leaning heavily on him, and Erika and Bruce remained the designated chaperones so nothing exploded.
Jormungand was, as Steve (and everyone else) found out, an affectionate drunk. Throughout the game, he was nuzzling and pawing at Steve.
He was also chatty.
There were two problems with that. First, Jormungand wasn't speaking English. Second, whatever he was saying was making Fenrir, Loki and Thor extremely uncomfortable.
After a while, an irritated Fenrir snapped, "Hætta að tala, ég vil ekki heyra um kynlíf venja!"
Jormungand smirked. "Afbrýðisamur?"
"Ekki ef líf mitt reiða á það!"
"Fenrir has a point, Jor," Erika sighed from her vantage point on the couch. "Everyone's happy for you and Steve, but I don't think anyone wants to hear about your private life. And no, I'm not jealous." A pause, then, "Okay, I lied—I'm a little jealous."
Steve blushed. "What's he saying?"
Erika gave him a look that said 'are you sure you want me to say it out loud?' and Steve quickly said, "Never mind, I'd rather not know."
Silence fell, and the next few hands were dealt before Jormungand said anything else.
"Ég gaf mér legið," he said to Steve while staring intently at him.
Erika snorted and Fenrir slammed his cards down and snarled. "Fyrir fjandanum er sakir, Jörmungandr!"
Erika was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe, and the rest of the people present looked confused. "Jesus, Cap, you're in for a surprise," she said between giggles.
Nodding to himself, Jormungand stood up abruptly, wobbling for a few seconds, then used his strength to yank Steve to his feet and pull him away from the table.
"Okay, I guess I fold," said Steve over his shoulder. He had been losing, anyway.
Jormungand dragged them back to Steve's room, where he then proceeded to shove Steve down on the bed and crawl on top of him.
"Ég vil að þú ríða mér," Jormungand said, kissing Steve's neck. "Ég vil að þú fyllir mig. Ég vil börnin þín."
Steve blinked owlishly, his mind still fuzzy from the ale. "Um, okay."
Jormungand tugged Steve's shirt off and kissed a trail down his chest. "Elska þig," Jormungand murmured, looking up through his eyelashes at Steve. "Og þú elskar mig."
Steve's brow knitted together and he shook his head slightly—he didn't understand a word of what Jormungand was saying. He reached out a hand to stop Jormungand from going any lower, trying to think of a way to get Jormungand to switch back to English.
When Steve stopped him, it was like a switch was flipped inside Jormungand; he seemed to deflate. "Þú ert ekki. Þú elskar mig ekki. Þú getur ekki elska mig," he said quietly, his voice almost too quiet for Steve to hear.
He sounded close to tears, and Steve wondered why his mood had changed so fast.
"What's wrong?" Steve asked, feeling suddenly sober. "Jormungand, I don't know what you're saying," he said gently, reaching out a hand.
Jormungand flinched away, curling into himself.
Fenrir var rétt, ég er bara hóra þín, ég er bara leikfang, ég er ekkert, ég er einskis virði, gagnslaus, heimskur skrípi sem alltaf boðberi allt upp. einskis virði, heimskur, veikur—" Jormungand was crying.
Steve panicked and reached for Jormungand again, but that made Jormungad cry harder.
Something occurred to Steve, then—something that he should have thought of when this first started. "J.A.R.V.I.S, what language does Jormungand speak?"
"The closest my databanks can come to translating is modern Icelandic," came the AI's response.
"Could you tell me what he's saying?"
"Certainly, Captain Rogers. Master Jormungand has expressed that you don't feel as deeply for him as he does for you. Over the past two minutes, he has called himself various names, including 'worthless,' 'useless,' and, pardon my crassness, 'whore.'"
Steve swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "I need to talk to him. Can you translate for me?"
"Certainly, Sir."
Steve didn't know if this would register with the crying—and still very drunk—Jormungand, but he was willing to try.
"Jormungand, look at me," said Steve, firm yet gentle.
Jörmungandr, líta á mig," J.A.R.V.I.S translated.
Jormungand jerked at the sound of the AI's voice.
"I don't speak your language, so J.A.R.V.I.S is going to translate for me, okay?"
"Ég tala ekki tungumál, þannig JARVIS er að fara að þýða fyrir mig?"
Jormungand sniffed and wiped his eyes, still not looking at Steve.
"Jormungand, I want you to look at me"
"Jörmungandr ég vil að þú horfir á mig"
"You are one of the best men I have ever met."
"Þú ert einn af bestu mönnum sem ég hef kynnst."
"You're not worthless. You're not useless. You're not any of the horrible things your brother, or anyone else has called you."
"Þú ert ekki einskis virði. Þú ert ekki gagnslaus. Þú ert ekki einhverju hræðilegu hlutum bróður þinn, eða einhver annar hefur kallað yður."
"I won't say any names, but I know how you feel about yourself. I know there's nothing I can say or do to change how you feel, but I want you to know this—you mean something to me."
"Ég mun ekki segja engin nöfn, en ég veit hvernig þér líður um sjálfan þig. Ég veit að það er ekkert sem ég get sagt eða gert til að breyta því hvernig þér líður, en ég vil að þú vitir þetta, þú átt eitthvað til mín."
"I don't know if what I feel for you is love, but I will do my best to be the man you deserve."
"Ég veit ekki hvort það sem ég finn fyrir þig er ást, og ég mun gera mitt besta til að vera maðurinn sem þú eiga skilið."
"You are not worthless. You are wonderful, and I hope you'll come to realize that."
"Þú ert ekki einskis virði. Þú ert dásamleg, og ég vona að þú munt koma til átta sig á því."
Jormungand was trembling, looking like he might cry again.
Steve gave him his most gentle smile and motioned for him to come closer. Jormungand crawled over to him and pressed his face against Steve's chest. Steve wrapped his arms around Jormungand. "It's okay," he said in a low voice. "It's okay, Jor. We're okay. J.A.R.V.I.S, how do you say, 'I think I love you?"
"Ég held að ég elska þig."
Jormungand's head jerked up, startled.
Steve smiled at him and cradled his face in his hands. "Ég held að ég elska þig," he repeated.
Jormungand made a strangled sound that sounded like a laugh and a sob mixed, followed by a small hiccup.
"We'll make this work—I promise."
"Shall I continue translating, Sir?"
"Yes, please," said Steve, never breaking eye contact with Jormungand.
"Við munum gera þetta verk-ég lofa."
Jormungand lunged forward, catching Steve's mouth in a sloppy kiss.
Steve tightened his grip.
Jormungand fell asleep not long after that, and Steve just held him.
Not long after Jormungand's drunken meltdown, Steve made a decision, and he asked Tony to use the Stark Industries jet again.