Warnings: this story contains explicit rape/non-con, physical torture, psychological torture, PTSD, extreme Loki-whump
Warnings this chapter: mentions of rape, angst
A/N: New chapter! More Loki-whump, poor thing. He certainly has a hard time in fics, huh?
Hollow Skies - Chapter 2
Sometimes, on a very rare occasion, Stark would enter Loki's cell and do nothing but talk to him. This, Loki began to notice, was actually one of his 'drunk moods' in which the inventor apparently needed someone to talk to, his computer man presumably too lacking in body to be a satisfying conversationalist.
And now, three days since the last assault, saw the mortal entering Loki's cell to do just that: talk.
The trickster was wary at first, as usual, taking his spot at the far corner of the cell, but upon realizing which Tony he was dealing with, he relaxed somewhat. Even so, Stark had, on one occasion, proceeded to violate the god in the middle of their conversation - all the while still talking, as though nothing strange was happening - and Loki was not looking to repeat that experience.
So Loki leaned quietly against the wall, happy that he even could sit now, his body healed up for the most part. His thighs touched his chest and he rested both hands lightly on his knees, trying with everything in him to appear unattractive. He wasn't certain what Stark liked, the man did not seem very selective about...well anything.
The inventor had cut the god's hair slightly shorter after the first couple of weeks, although Loki, by that time, knew better than to say anything about it. The scissors had given him pause, and he had been worried what he might do with them, and then had nearly laughed at himself when nothing bad had happened.
What's he talking about now? Loki wondered, as he mostly tuned the inventor out when he spoke.
"...and, Thor, y'know...just completely ruined it for me." Loki stiffened up at the mention of his not-brother's name. That name only belonged in his own thoughts, his memories. That's where it stayed because that's where he wanted it to stay. However illogical it was, Loki, when the pain was so bad he could only scream, could not help but blame Thor for not helping him, for not rescuing him. Afterward, he knew it was ridiculous to blame Thor, there was no way for him to know he was here, but still... So he began to put his not-brother at the back of his mind, up on a pedestal or in a vault where he wouldn't have to think about him, where he couldn't reach him. No, he had told himself. Thor can't get to you because he's over there. You put him there, so don't complain that he hasn't saved you.
He wanted that, needed that separation. The thunder god was the only being in the Nine Realms that still cared for him, no matter what Loki had done, he couldn't afford to start blaming him for things he couldn't do - or had no control over.
Loki started to cry, he couldn't stop it. He missed his brother. He missed Frigga, hel, he even missed Sif and the Warriors Three. At the beginning, especially when Stark came to him, Loki would fantasize about Thor saving him, about his golden brother rescuing him with Mjolnir singing. Sometimes Sif and the others were there, and sometimes, even the other Avengers, as strange as it was. He had begun to wonder about the other Avengers, if they would help him if they ever found him in the tower. The soldier he knew would probably help immediately, but the man hiding the monster... Loki hadn't met him, but from what Barton had told him, he was a fairly mildly mannered mortal, so Loki guessed - or perhaps hoped - he might help too. And oh how wonderful it would be if the monster itself smashed the man of iron into the floor. Barton and Romanoff Loki was certain would not help. The two might even join Stark in his punishment of the unfortunate god.
Lost in thought, Loki suddenly realized he was alone and the lights blinked off.
So it continued for a length of time the god of mischief couldn't measure. Stark was annoyingly unpredictable. Sometimes he would restrain Loki further for no apparent reason, despite the fact the god wouldn't resist anyway. The muzzle made its appearance every so often, even though it was pointless. Sometimes the inventor would beat Loki first, then take him, other times that process would be reversed. Several times Loki awoke to Stark pounding into him - a most unpleasant wake-up call - which the trickster quickly guessed was a result of the man's drunkenness. A few times, and more recently, Loki began to notice the mortal speaking to him, only to realize he hadn't been speaking to Loki so much as to himself.
The one thing Stark never did, however, was take Loki out of this room, until one day.
Four days had passed since Stark had last visited the mischief god, and Loki lay quietly, as usual, waiting for whatever strange new abuse the engineer would try on him. Instead he heard a mechanical sound like metal releasing metal, followed by a light tug on his collar. The lights turned on, revealing the seemingly not-drunk Tony Stark holding the end of Loki's chain-leash.
"So. Today you get to go outside," Stark said. Loki furrowed his brow. "Well, outside this room, at least." He tugged on the chain a little at the god's reluctance to move. "Come on."
Loki was thoroughly confused, Stark had never allowed him outside his cell, why now? He was suddenly wary of what the mortal might have planned for him, but decided it would be worse to disobey. So he stood up gingerly, making certain first that he could stand up, then he followed the inventor out of the room.
There was a long grey corridor stretching straight out from the cell, with intermittent lights mounted on the left wall. To his right looked like several storage rooms, and Loki surmised that they were in some sort of basement.
The god followed quietly behind Stark, who still held the chain in his hand, and looked about with curious eyes. Loki kept his hands balled in fists near his stomach and kept his head low. Maybe, Loki found his thoughts wandering without permission, maybe I could find a way to escape. If I collect enough information-
The two were now entering a small room with a metal door, which Loki soon remembered as an 'elevator'. A form of transportation within mortal buildings. The ride was fairly short, why not use the stairs?
As the two metal doors slid open, Stark led Loki out into a spacious living room. The god hunched his shoulders even more and brought his nervous hands up to his chest as he looked around in this new environment. To the left were floor to ceiling glass windows, with a long elegant couch sat in front of it. A large piano was nearby, as well as - Loki stared to the right, the front door? As the inventor led the god across the obviously expensive room, Loki began to realize this was, in fact, not Stark's tower. Out the windows he could see the grey sky and the deep blue ocean, for one thing. Where are we? Loki was certain he was in the tower. He searched his memory, sifting through weeks, if not months, of torture to find a time that he was - ah. Loki sighed, the first week. About one week after he was captured Stark had used some horrible device on the god that felt similar to Mjolnir's lightning. It had taken quite some time but Loki had finally lost consciousness. So, he moved me here. The cells were identical in every way, although Loki would have had a difficult time making any comparisons since he was always kept in the dark, and when it was bright, Stark was always there; it wasn't the best time to memorize his surroundings.
Stark seemed to notice the god's confusion, "This is my other home, did you think I would live in that tower twenty-four seven?" Loki glanced at him then continued looking around. "Anyway, this way."
The inventor led the god down some stairs, then into a small boxed in space that had glass walls. Why did we just use that elevator if now we use stairs? Loki eyed the large room through the glass. Stark entered a code onto the panel next to the glass door, which promptly slid open to let the two in.
The room was very large, and long. Several cars lined the far side of the room, while the rest of the space was dominated by work tables, scrap metal, and tools. To the right were a couch and table. Loki stepped as far away as the chain would allow, to get a better look at all the metal pieces strewn about - which clearly belonged to Stark's Iron Man suits.
"Okay, so here's the deal," Stark began. He pointed at Loki, who snapped to attention. "You help me down here, be my assistant or whatever, I let you out of that cage so you can assist me."
Loki narrowed his eyes at that logic. Of course it didn't exactly make sense, but he couldn't deny that he liked being out of that Hel hole. No doubt the inventor would still do as he pleased with him even out here, but at least it was a change of scenery.
Loki nodded.
"Good. Now hand me that," Stark pointed. Loki obliged.
One week passed and Stark had let Loki 'assist' him three times already. The god was once again becoming accustomed to a brighter setting, as he dutifully listened to all of Stark's instructions. He had assaulted Loki only once while in the workshop, during a particularly potent drunken stupor, although he had not finished and had passed out halfway through. Loki had slipped the chain out of Stark's hand, and although he was beyond nervous, he inched toward the glass exit, wondering if he could at least open the door. But, as he suspected, a key-code was required, and Stark apparently changed it often.
The mortal also remembered to feed Loki more frequently while he was in the workshop. The longest Loki had gone without food and water since his imprisonment was a week or so, and clearly Stark did not care to remember the basic necessity. So the trickster was pleasantly surprised when on the second day of assisting, Stark brought him some bread and water. Loki thanked him, the mortal didn't respond.
Two days after that Loki was hunched over a worktable, handling a large piece of metal that Tony had told him to clean. Whether or not the engineer had told him to, Loki would have cleaned it until he could see his reflection, as the trickster was particularly meticulous when it came to cleanliness. Or, at least, he tried to be. His cell wasn't exactly the cleanest place to be, regardless of what Loki had tried in the beginning. He had quickly given up, choosing to ignore the disgusting environment. Stark had taken to spraying Loki, and the room, down with a water hose - which the trickster immediately hated after the first try. The water was cold and Stark was not gentle. It was fortunate the mortal had built a drain into one corner of the room. Even so, after the initial shock had worn off, it was nice to feel clean - or at least the illusion of it.
The metal in Loki's hands shone brightly and the god let a small smile cross his face. Yes, the little things, smile for the little things, he repeated to himself. Stark had left him alone in the workshop for a few minutes, and the inventor was now coming down the stairs - or, at least, stumbling down the stairs, Loki noticed. Drunk again, he sighed. Stark did strange things when he was drunk, Loki decided he hated that mood the most.
The mortal tapped the code onto the keypad...then he tried again, then again, he cursed, then tried it again. On the third try the panel lit green, and Stark entered - only to trip over himself and fall face-first onto the floor.
Loki jumped up, uncertain what to do. Should I help him? Maybe he would be kinder if - Loki's eyes darted to the door. Open... Stark's foot was caught in the door.
The trickster's pulse sky-rocketed, his fight or flight instinct kicking in. I can run, I can run...No no no...He'll be angry, what do you think he'll do? No! Run! It doesn't matter! No stay. No run! Loki's legs made the decision for him as he leapt over the prone figure and jerked the glass door open. He didn't hear Stark groan as he bounded up the stairs in a panicked desperation.
Run run run run run... The words repeated in his head, never stopping. He ran straight for the front door, not caring about the fact that he was still naked. Nothing mattered now except escaping.
The door was calling to him, only an arm's reach away -
"You are not permitted to leave the premises," said JARVIS.
Loki's mind screamed, no no no no no no! No please! The door wouldn't budge. Loki tried to kick at it, punch it, force it open somehow, but it wouldn't move. The glass the glass. Window window window. Loki jerked around and ran for the large windows that led out to the cliff side. Yes yes, outside outside. Glass breaks, break it break it break it.
As if the man in the ceiling had heard Loki's thoughts, his voice rang out.
"Please step away from the glass, you are not permitted to leave the premises."
Loki wasn't listening, he grabbed a small table and lifted it to throw through the - something collided with him, causing him to drop the table as it smashed into pieces against the floor.
No no no no no no! Stark is here Stark is here no no no can't get away never get away. No please please please somebody help me!
The mortal was off of him the next moment, but an excruciating pain filled the trickster's body. The fake lightning that Stark had used the first week ripped through every part of Loki with blinding agony.
He heard the man speaking, saying something angrily - growling at him - but Loki was too busy passing out.
A/N: I have to say I took some liberties with the layout of Stark's home since I didn't feel like going back and sifting through the Iron Man movies to get it exactly right. Still, I think it's mostly accurate, if a little different - and who's to say he doesn't change it around every so often? ;)