Work Text:
Mobius doesn’t take his work home with him anymore.
He’s figured out that working overtime, always taking things back to his place, constantly thinking about work — that’s all bad for him. There’s more to life than just his work, and he knows that now. It took some time to realize it, but what’s important isn’t the work. It’s the value he found in the work, that fulfillment.
Mobius has been working on trying to find that fulfillment elsewhere. In all aspects of life, from other avenues. A well-rounded self, in order to equal a happy self. Now that he’s figuring out who his self is, he’s really starting to like all the new and extra stuff.
His entire life — as he remembers it, thus far — has been watching other people’s lives, trying to keep them on track. It’s refreshing to do it just for himself.
When the clock hits five o’clock, Mobius stops working, and he doesn’t take that work home with him. Taking up his briefcase, Mobius leaves his office without a glance backwards, locking the door behind him. His secretary is already standing, offering him his hat and coat.
“Have a wonderful night, sir,” she tells him. Mobius sets his hat on his head and gives her a nod.
“You can head home any time you’d like, Gracie,” Mobius says, in way of an answer. “No reason you should be here if I’m not.” He tips his hat, then says, “Give Arnie my best.”
“Will do,” she says with a smile. Mobius leaves her behind, but the office isn’t a large space. It doesn’t take long to make his way through the halls and find Loki’s office. He’s unsurprised to find that the door is still closed, lights on inside.
“Mind if I head in?” Mobius asks of Loki’s secretary. She gives him a smile and a nod, leaning back to push open the door for him.
“I still haven’t finished,” Loki says without looking up, still bent over his desk. Mobius shuts the door behind himself, leaving his briefcase at the door. The lamp over Loki’s desk is tugged close over his head, aimed directly over his work. It casts Loki’s sharp features in stark shadows; the line of his nose and the cut of his jaw seem so severe like this, and are only made more dramatic by the intensity of his focus.
“That’s a shame,” Mobius says. Loki lifts his head in surprise, setting his pen down on the desktop with a thwack.
“Mobius,” Loki comments. He grabs the clock at the edge of his desk, looking at it as if he’s expecting it to change. “It can’t already be five.”
“It is,” Mobius says, circling around Loki’s furniture to make it to his desk. His sofa and chairs look relatively untouched today, his drink cart in the corner still freshly stocked. “Been working hard today, I take it.”
“I just got enveloped in my work,” Loki says. He waves a hand at the papers under his pen, all spread across his desk in chaos. “Let me just— I’ll finish up, and meet you—”
“Nope,” Mobius says, and Loki sighs, dropping his head backwards. He rubs at his temples.
“What if we—”
“No way,” Mobius cuts him off again. “You’re the one who made this rule, you remember that?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Loki says. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he ultimately just gives in and stands. He acts put-upon, straightening out his papers and turning out his lights, but Mobius sees the way his shoulders relax, sees the smile on his face as he packs his briefcase back up. When Loki flips off his last light, Mobius catches his other hand, bringing it up to his mouth. Loki turns to him in the shadowed darkness as Mobius gently turns his hand around to kiss the center of his palm.
“Is this appropriate?” Loki asks. There’s a smile in his voice that makes Mobius want to kiss him again, so he does, kissing his wrist, the inside of his elbow, trailing all the way up to his cheek. When he gets there, he finds Loki’s face heated, flushed under his lips.
“If you don't think it is, then I’ll stop,” Mobius replies.
“Oh, don’t you dare,” Loki says lowly. He snags Mobius’ coat lapels with his long fingers and tugs him in for a hard kiss. It lasts barely a moment before he separates them, pressing a kiss to the corner of Mobius’ mouth before he’s completely gone.
“Can I walk you out?” Mobius offers.
“You may,” Loki allows, stepping in front of Mobius to open his office door for him in one fluid movement. They may leave together every day, but Mobius still loves to hear Loki agree to accompany him out.
“Goodnight,” Loki says to his secretary, accepting his own hat and coat from her. He turns to Mobius, then pauses, evaluating him. After a moment, he reaches in and straightens out Mobius’ hat.
“Thank you,” Mobius says, his heart racing. He looks to Loki’s secretary and says, “Excuse me for being less than presentable, Edie.”
“It’s no problem,” she says, smiling at him. He winks at her; in his peripheral vision, he sees Loki roll his eyes, still smiling.
“Have a good night,” he tells her. She gives him a little wave as he tugs Loki along, back through the winding labyrinth of their office.
“You know, you don’t have to flirt with my secretary every time you visit my office,” Loki comments. When Mobius glances at him, Loki’s still looking straight ahead as if he needs to navigate for them, as if they don’t take the same path to the same elevator together multiple times a day. Mobius knocks his shoulder into Loki’s, drawing his attention down.
“I’m flirting with you, you dingus,” Mobius tells him in a quiet voice, mindful of the offices they pass with open doors.
“Mo—”
“Relax, I’m just teasing you,” Mobius says. Loki brings them to a halt in front of the elevator, hitting the button to summon the machine. Mobius watches the reaches of his long fingers, the line of his back and broad shoulders in his coat. When Loki leans backwards into his side, Mobius takes his hand, unable to stop himself from touching him.
“I know that,” Loki tells him, belatedly. Mobius is about to comment on that before Loki crowds into his space, setting a hand under Mobius’ chin so he can tilt his face up for a kiss. The kiss grows heated quickly, with Loki reaching up to shift Mobius’ hat backwards, giving him a deeper kiss than is strictly appropriate for the office setting. Loki winds Mobius’ tie around his hands, tugging him in sharply in the same moment that he licks into Mobius’ mouth.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open in front of them. Loki withdraws slowly, pressing one last kiss to his lips before he sets his hand at the small of Mobius’ back to escort him inside. Mobius’ heart pounds, the air in the elevator thick and tense.
“Would you like to drive tonight, or shall I?” Loki asks. Mobius reaches for the car keys in his own pocket, fishing them out. He offers them to Loki, hooked on one finger.
“I drove this morning,” he says, and Loki accepts the keys, letting their fingertips brush. “Your turn. Just don’t go above sixty.”
“You know I’m going to,” Loki comments with a laugh. “Why do you still tell me not to?”
“Because you do still listen to me sometimes,” Mobius says. Loki wraps an arm around Mobius’ waist, kissing his temple, then his cheek.
“I always listen to you,” Loki argues. “I don’t just always obey you.”
“You can say that again,” Mobius says. Their elevator opens again, and Loki kisses his cheek again one last time, swiftly. He breaks away to escort Mobius out through their lobby and into the parking lot.
Mobius had parked their Cadillac close to the front doors that morning, and so they don’t have far to walk. The machine is sleek and new to them, though Mobius remembers a timeline where this was an old car, from an old world. He used to dream about things like this, though it was a fantasy sort of dream, something he never truly believed could come true. The fact that he has all of this, sometimes, is bewildering to him.
“Will you be getting in, or should I just leave you here and bring you lunch tomorrow?” Loki asks from inside the car. Mobius doesn’t waste time joining him there.
Their home isn’t far away from their office building. They don’t mind the commute into the city; their home is a nice enough place that it’s worth the drive. Mobius remembers houses in movies less picturesque than the home they ended up in. Sometimes, it feels like they live in a movie.
“What do you want to eat tonight?” Loki asks.
“I can make something tonight,” Mobius offers.
“You remember that I can make us absolutely anything we want?” Loki reminds him. “Quite literally, I can magically conjure you anything you want.”
“And that’s not as good as a home-cooked meal, and you know it,” Mobius points out. Loki scoffs. He changes lanes easily, taking the bridge out of the city. The fine bones of his wrists and hands shift as he moves, navigating smoothly. Mobius reaches out to thread his fingers through the curling ends of Loki’s long hair.
Loki glances sideways at him. His attention is burning all the same; he reaches up to catch Mobius’ hand, kissing his knuckles. “If I crash, it’s your fault for distracting me.”
“If you crash, it’s your fault for going ninety miles an hour,” Mobius argues. Loki laughs, kissing Mobius’ thumb before settling their joined hands on the seat between them. With the sun starting to go down, Loki’s bathed in golden hour sunlight, and Mobius can’t stop himself from leaning towards him. He tilts his head back against the headrest of his seat, watching Loki drive.
Loki turns to him again after a moment, feeling Mobius’ eyes on him. “What do you think you’re looking at?”
“Just you,” Mobius says. The corners of Loki’s mouth turn up, though he tries not to let it break through. Again, Mobius grows distracted by how lucky he feels to have this now, after all this time. He can’t stop watching Loki’s face lazily as he drives, stroking his thumb over the back of his hand.
“Where do you keep going?” Loki asks, startling Mobius slightly. “You haven’t been quite yourself tonight. Is something on your mind?”
“You’re perceptive when you want to be,” Mobius points out. Loki’s smile is still there, lingering; it brightens a bit at that comment.
Loki doesn’t push, for a long moment. He’s been improving at knowing when to hold his tongue, though he doesn’t always succeed at it. It’s that, though not that alone, that does eventually prompt Mobius into expanding upon his answer.
“Do you ever think about it?” Mobius asks. Loki’s smile slips, finally; he gets a crease between his brows, instead, as he frowns. Before he can ask, Mobius continues, “If we made the wrong decision? If we should… If we should maybe go back?”
“Why would we go back?” Loki asks. “Honestly. What is there to go back to? What’s there to go back for?”
“I don’t know,” Mobius says. “I was just thinking about it.”
“Are you…” Loki starts to ask, then stops. Mobius squeezes his hand to prompt him. “Do you regret this? Would you like to go back?”
“No,” Mobius answers quickly, sitting up in his seat. “I was just thinking about how much I love what we’re doing, and I don’t, uhh…” Mobius trails off, tapping his nail against the back of Loki’s hand. Looking down at their hands, he hesitates for a long time before adding, “Do you ever get the feeling this isn’t going to last?”
Loki doesn’t answer right away. He keeps his eyes on the road, but Mobius can see the gears turning in his head. So, he waits.
Eventually, Loki says, “If I ever did feel that way, I would likely just focus on the better feelings I’m having. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me to do?”
“Not if you’re not processing your emotions,” Mobius points out. Loki exhales.
“Mobius, I have to be honest with you, I have lived a very long life,” Loki tells him. “Most things I’ve experienced— I’m sorry, let me correct myself. Everything I have experienced thus far has been completely impermanent. Even the things I believed would last forever.” He pulls into the driveway of their home and parks, looking ahead at their house. After a moment, he turns the car off, then looks to Mobius. “Nothing lasts. I don’t want to think about how long something will or won’t go on. I just want to enjoy it while it happens.”
Mobius nods, untangling his fingers from Loki’s. He reaches up to direct Loki’s attention towards him, kissing him slowly.
The fact that the front seat is one long bench is far too tempting, and Mobius has to force himself to separate from Loki long enough to remind him, “We should go inside.”
“I’m going to make us dinner,” Loki says. “We don’t have enough groceries for a home-cooked meal. But we can go out after work tomorrow to get some, that should give you the time to decide which recipes you’d like to use out of that box of yours.” At the front door, Loki kisses the back of Mobius’ hand, then says, “I’ll get dinner on the table if you’ll take our things to the office.”
“How can I say no to a deal like that?” Mobius asks, and lets Loki kiss his cheek again before parting from him.
Their office on the second floor is a shared space, with two desks on opposite sides of the room. The glass display case between the desks, backed against the far wall between two windows shining with golden light, calls to Mobius like a beacon. He can’t help but leave their briefcases by the door and go right up to the case.
The illusion pad they used to bring themselves here sits in the display they placed it in after they arrived, still. He has to press a release under the lip of the glass in order to get inside of it, and he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he just stops and stares at it for a long time. Wondering if he should pull it out. Debating what he would even do if he did. Considering if there was even a point to keeping the thing in their home to begin with, if destroying it would do anything.
The golden sunlight starts to slip away while Mobius looks at the device. He’s not paying enough attention to anything else; Loki’s arrival in the doorway behind him takes him by surprise, the creaking floorboard alerting him to turn.
“I’m sorry, I got distracted,” Mobius says. Loki comes to him, his hand sliding up Mobius’ back, up onto his shoulder and across to the other. He grips him tight, looking down at the device in front of them.
“Why do you keep this thing out here?” Loki asks.
“I don’t want everything to go away if I smash it,” Mobius points out.
“That is the answer to, ‘Why is this still in our home?’” Loki says. “I asked why you insist on keeping this thing out on display.” Loki hesitates for a moment before asking, “Do you want to go back?”
“I don’t think so,” Mobius says. “What if we made the wrong choice, though?”
Loki hums, reaching out to press the release under the glass lid. With one arm still wrapped around Mobius, he tilts the lid up on the case, revealing the device to the open air. Mobius itches to pull him back, but he doesn’t move as Loki picks the thing up in one hand, pulling it in to hold between them.
“Would you rather go somewhere else?” Loki asks. He taps the thing to life; it lights up as if no time has passed at all.
“Loki—”
“I’m serious,” Loki cuts him off. He swipes through the device, and the room around them shimmers apart. It pieces itself back together to set them on the deck of a starship, looking out over a vast and infinite galaxy, far away from the one they were just in, and many centuries in the future. Loki taps the device again, and they’re millennia into the past, on a hot, deserted planet. In the distance, there’s a boom of thunder, a distant explosion. Loki glances upwards at a hazy red sky, then taps the device again without even looking. This time, they’re in Mobius’ old office with the TVA.
“Stop,” Mobius says. Loki swipes the device to bring them back to their familiar shared office, the sun nearly set outside the windows.
“We could go anywhere,” Loki reminds him. “Do anything. We aren’t limited to this place. If you aren’t happy here—”
“That’s not what this is about,” Mobius says. He removes the device from Loki’s hand and sets it back in its display, though he leaves the glass lid tipped up. “Loki. Hey, look at me. Of course I’m happy here.”
“Pardon me if I felt a little nervous finding you standing here silently for—”
“I can’t stop thinking this is all going to go away,” Mobius finally admits. Loki falls silent, though Mobius can still feel his eyes on him. “We ran away. They’re not going to let that just slide. What if somebody finds us and makes us go back? Or if something goes wrong, or if…” Mobius trails off, not wanting to give voice to darker thoughts. Instead, he sighs, and turns towards Loki, leaning his head against Loki’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’m ready to give all this up, Loki.”
“Then don’t,” Loki tells him. “If somebody ever came for us, I’d take us away. We’ll run as long as you want to run. We’ll go wherever you want to go, Mobius, that’s not even a question.”
“How do you know that?” Mobius asks.
“I don’t know anything, to be quite honest with you,” Loki answers. “I never really have.”
“I used to think I knew exactly how my entire life was going to go,” Mobius says. Loki cups his chin in his hand, drawing him up to kiss his cheek. “I don’t know anymore. I have no idea. It scares the shit out of me, Loki, I’m not going to lie to you.”
“It must, to make you swear like that,” Loki jokes. Mobius huffs a laugh, and Loki tilts forward to press their foreheads together. “What are you scared of? I’m going to protect you.”
“You can’t protect me from life,” Mobius says.
“You can’t protect either of us from that,” Loki replies. “I’m going to protect you from losing that. If someone ever came for us, I’d take you somewhere else. We could live on a thousand worlds and I’d never have enough, do you understand that? I’m not going anywhere. You’re not here alone, or for no reason.” Loki cradles Mobius’ face in his hands, whispers, “I’m here with you.”
Mobius remembers, all at once, that he’s here with Loki, that they ran away together, that they chose this place together, that they built this home together.
“Will you help me with something?” Mobius asks.
“Of course,” Loki says. Mobius motions him forward as he snaps the glass lid closed on the display case. Between the two of them, they carry the case to the office’s closet, where Mobius shuts the door on it, leaving it out of sight, in the darkness.
“That’s probably a better place for that right now,” Mobius comments. Loki nods his agreement, taking Mobius’ hand in his and pulling him close.
“You can talk to me,” Loki says. “I don’t want you to think you can’t. And I certainly don’t want you to be unhappy.”
Mobius tilts his head up, pulling him into a short kiss. That short kiss grows longer quickly, deepening when Mobius licks into Loki’s mouth. When Loki responds in kind, cupping Mobius’ face in his hands, Mobius backs him up until he’s pressed against the wall, biting his bottom lip sharply before diving in to kiss him again.
Loki twitches underneath him, hips rolling up into Mobius’ in a slow grind. Mobius can feel his hard cock push against his thigh, and he groans into Loki’s mouth, bringing his hand up to grasp the back of Loki’s neck tightly. Loki tips his head, deft hands coming between them to quickly unbuckle Mobius’ belt. Mobius pulls back from their kiss, their mouths separating with a wet click before he tears at Loki’s pants, getting his belt open and buttons apart in seconds.
“Turn around,” Mobius instructs him. Loki does as he’s told, turning to brace his hands on top of Mobius’ desk, palms and long fingers leaving sweaty marks when he shifts to look back at Mobius over his shoulder.
Mobius tugs open his top left drawer, fishing around until he pulls out a bottle of lube. It’s from a different time, along with many of their gadgets and belongings, artifacts from the distant past and technology from a far-off future and sentimental things from a realm that no longer exists finding a home together in one mid-century modern.
All the same, Mobius sets the lube aside so he can tug Loki’s trousers down in swift, gentle movements. Loki keeps pushing back into him, twisting back to kiss him, trying to get handfuls of Mobius’ tie, of his shirt, to pull him in close.
Mobius leans in to kiss Loki hard, blanketing him with his body for a long moment before he separates them. Loki whimpers, a sound caught in the back of his throat that he tries to choke back, but Mobius wants to hear it even more for that. He pulls Loki’s underwear down, fingertips trailing up his inner thigh to trace over the curve of his ass. Loki’s forehead comes forward to slam into the desktop, nails digging into the wood.
“Come on,” Loki insists. Mobius slips his hand up under Loki’s shirt to plant his hand on the small of his back, pressing him down into the desk. Loki sighs, flushed face turning into the wood, cheeks brushed with hectic pink that Mobius can’t stop watching as it spreads. Loki’s skin is slick with sweat, where Mobius is touching it bare, and his shirt clings tight to his chest as he twists to get more of Mobius’ hands on him.
Mobius has to slide his hands up between Loki’s shoulder blades to push him back down, square in the center, palm lining up with Loki’s spine. With his other hand, he snaps the lube open, drizzling a long, wet line of it at the cleft of Loki’s ass before slicking his fingers with another handful of it.
He works his one hand down to circle Loki’s hole with one finger, his nail barely scratching him. It’s just enough to make Loki push forward into the desk again, obviously seeking friction as his hips grind down.
“I got you,” Mobius murmurs, and Loki gasps out as if taking in a sudden breath. Loki feels so real and living under him, his chest heaving as he takes heavy breaths, his heart pushing blood through his skin. His fears feel so intangible, now, so meaningless, with Loki like this. He’s grounding in a way nothing else is or has ever been, for him. Mobius can’t help but fall forward to kiss the back of Loki’s neck, his shoulder, his cheek. He pulls Loki in for a deep kiss before slipping his first finger in to the first knuckle, nice and easy.
He shushes Loki more out of habit than anything, delighting personally in the way Loki gasps out his name, breathless, into the wood of his desk. Mobius isn’t sure if his life has a path, or meaning, or any of that — but he knows he never feels better than when he sees Loki like this, falling apart with the pleasure Mobius is giving to him, and nobody else, nothing else.
“I’ve got you,” Mobius says again, gripping Loki’s hip as he slips his finger in deeper, flexing to stroke along Loki’s tight walls, feeling the hot grip of him around his hand, his insides as heated as Mobius feels internally. Loki pushes back into him, but Mobius steadies him, going at his own pace.
“Mobius, I—” Loki starts again, but Mobius pulls out, and the rest of Loki’s words are lost into a disapproving groan. Mobius slicks up two fingers, this time, and pushes them both in, slowly scissoring Loki open.
Loki, for his part, keeps trying to pull them along. He does this every time, and Mobius honestly finds it endearing. He’s constantly seeking the next good feeling, looking to chase everything that feels good. Mobius sees it as something of a personal quest to draw out each of those good feelings until Loki can’t even manage to think ahead to the next one. It’s like a hobby, almost. He likes having hobbies.
“Come on,” Loki says, shoving himself back into Mobius’ hands, forcing himself to take his two fingers to the last knuckle. He bites off a groan mid-breath, his forehead digging into a folder on Mobius’ desk. He tosses his head back to look at Mobius when he can breathe again, long locks of his dark hair plastered to the slick layer of sweat dewing up on his face. Desperately, he asks, “Please, will you just—”
“I know what I’m doing,” Mobius reminds him, laughing. “You’re the bossiest person I’ve ever met, do you know that? Will you trust me for two minutes?”
Loki’s face seems to bloom with new heat, and he nods, turning his face away to hide in Mobius’ desk again. He doesn’t give a sharp answer, though Mobius waits for him to do so. Rather than putting that silver tongue to dialogic use, Loki just remains silent, curling his fingers around the edge of Mobius’ desk until his knuckles go white.
“Do you trust me?” Mobius asks, testing his new theory. Loki nods, strained, the muscles in his body all pulled taut, straining towards something Mobius can’t see. Mobius pulls his fingers free to slick them all, pushing in with three this time, pressing his forehead to the center of Loki’s back. Watching his own hand fuck Loki is hypnotizing, but he still manages to tell him, “I trust you. I trust you to take care of me, keep me happy—”
“Mobius,” Loki chokes out. “Please—”
“You’re doing so well,” Mobius praises him, and Loki makes an indistinguishable sound, halfway between a cry of joy and a sob. It makes Mobius slow. “Is this okay? Are you feeling okay?”
Loki manages to swallow before he says, “Yes,” voice muffled by the desktop. He turns his head up; he’s clearer when he says, “Please, I— I don’t want you to stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Mobius grips Loki’s upper arm in one hand, for a moment, before he glides his touch down to Loki’s waist, then his hip. He holds him tight as he lines himself up with Loki’s hole with his other hand. Loki waits for him, unmoving beneath him — for the most part. Now and then, he jerks, dragging his hips along the desk, leaving wet trails from his cock as he struggles to breathe normally. Mobius takes his time slicking his own cock with new lube, delighting in his hobby.
“Hold still,” Mobius instructs him, after a moment. Loki stops writhing, just for a second, before he starts to twist to look back at Mobius again. Mobius catches his wrists in one hand, tugging them down to the small of Loki’s back and holding them in place there. He guides his cock back to Loki’s entrance with his other hand. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, yes, plea—” Loki starts to reply, but Mobius pushes forward into him, sheathing himself halfway inside Loki, cutting off his stream of begging answers. Loki groans instead, long and low, hands twisting to grab at Mobius’ arm. He doesn’t make it all the way, but his nails scratch at him, and Mobius tightens his grip, pushing his arms up.
“Do you trust me?” Mobius asks of him.
“Yes,” Loki whispers. He drags his face along the desktop to look back at Mobius, leaving a trail of sweat and saliva and tears behind. Breathlessly, he says, “I trust you. I trust you, please.”
Mobius reaches up to stroke Loki’s hair back from his sweaty face. He tucks it behind his ear, then cups his cheek, blanketing his body again with his own so he can reach him for a kiss. Loki contorts back into it, trying to get Mobius closer, but all he succeeds in doing is drawing him deeper inside him until their hips meet.
Loki seems to have gotten what he wanted, though inadvertently, as he falls back forward into the table, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Mobius strokes his hair, trying to keep his hips still until Loki has adjusted to him.
Loki’s face is still a hectic flush of blood and a wet mess of sweat, but Mobius can’t stop kissing him everywhere, anywhere he can reach. He withdraws from his lips and his cheeks and his chin to kiss along his shoulder blade instead, still half-clothed in his work shirt. He licks a stripe along the back of Loki’s bare neck with the flat of his tongue, kisses down his spine through the fabric of his shirt, thrills in each tiny shift of Loki underneath him as he finds the position he wants most.
Underneath him, Loki grinds his hips back. Their positions shift just slightly, but the sensation makes Loki moan loudly. His breaths grow short again, and Mobius catches the hint quickly.
“You ready?” Mobius asks. Loki hesitates, then swallows before he nods.
“Yes,” he says. He licks his lips, then looks back at Mobius again, bright eyes piercing his when they meet. Mobius strokes his face before he pulls back again to take Loki’s hips in both hands, releasing his wrists in the process.
Loki reaches up to grab onto the edge of the desk again, holding on tight enough his knuckles go white all over again, the muscles and tendons and delicate bones of his hands standing out as he strains to hold on. His grip tightens as Mobius pulls out and slams back in, the first time. The movement draws a sharp cry out of Loki, half-buried in the wood of the desk. Mobius takes that as his cue that he’s doing the right thing, that he’s found the right place, and he snaps his hips again. His thrusts become deep, rhythmic, fucking Loki’s prostate on every other shot. It feels impossibly good, the way Loki can’t stop moving under him, the constant stream of semi-coherent noises that fall out of Loki’s always-working mouth. Half of the things he says are just Mobius’ name, and Mobius thinks he doesn’t hear anything better in his day, in any day, than this.
Mobius’ blood feels electric, lightning jolting through his veins, coursing through him, propelled by the churning engine of his heart. Every movement of Loki, every breath he takes, every sound that comes out of him, makes his heart race all the faster, makes his vision cloudier. Heat pools tight in his belly, in his cock, rushing south. Watching Loki fall apart under him just pushes him closer to that edge, body trembling as he tries to hold on to make this last as long as possible.
“Please, let me—” Loki starts to say, trying to shift to get a hand on himself. Mobius takes a moment to pause, pulling Loki back with an arm around his shoulders. He braces that arm around his chest like a steel bar, tugging his head back until their cheeks drag together. Mobius holds Loki’s jaw tight in one hand, kissing the column of his throat, pulling him back until his cock’s fully inside him again. In this new position, tugged backwards as Loki is, spine bowing, Mobius can get his other hand on Loki’s cock.
He’s impossibly hard already, close to the edge; Mobius knows from experience, and so he grips the base of Loki’s cock tight in his hand, making Loki choke on a breath, twisting closer to Mobius.
“I just want—” Loki tries, then keens, one of his hands flying backwards to grip Mobius’ hair tightly. His long arms accommodate his impossible hold, his other hand coming down to slam into the desktop, holding himself up with the last vestiges of his strength. Mobius does the rest of the work to keep him upright, clutching him close and fucking up into him, as deep as he can on each thrust. His hands shaking, blood buzzing, ears ringing, Mobius kisses the salty-sweat crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder, biting into his flesh there, grounding them both in the feeling.
“Trust me,” Mobius whispers near his ear. Loki nods desperately, his long hair sticking to both of their faces with sweat when he twists to kiss along Mobius’ jaw again. “I trust you.”
Loki whines his name, nails scratching up Mobius’ arm before throwing back to claw at his hair again. Mobius can feel his body drawing closer to orgasm, every one of his limbs feeling as if the muscles tightened impossibly, coiling closer and closer to the edge.
Loki’s closer, though, he thinks, or at least he wants him to cum first, so he refocuses his efforts. He lets go of Loki’s cock, releases him from the tight, withholding grip, and relishes in the sharp exhale that Loki gives him in return. He reaches back, takes some of the slick mess of lube and precum between them. With that sticky on his fingers, he jerks Loki’s cock; the hot flesh glides like velvet under his touch, and Loki groans, a long moan on a harsh breath.
“Please, you have to let me,” Loki begs him. “Please. I’m close, I’m so close, I just want you to let me—”
Mobius bites into his throat again, fucking Loki tight, arm still holding him close against his body as he reaches around to jerk him off. Caught between Mobius’ chest and his cock on one side and his hand working him over the edge on the other, Loki falls apart in his arms, going nearly boneless as he finds his release and seizes it, crying out Mobius’ name and twisting to get as close to him as possible. Loki tries to kiss him, almost, but it’s open-mouthed and messy, grabbing at him as he falls out of coherence and real consciousness.
As difficult as it is, Mobius slows his hips, ignoring the fire in his blood telling him to chase his own release. Loki is still catching his breath in his arms, his cock softening, Mobius’ hand and his desk and their shared office floor splattered with his release.
It takes a long moment of Loki breathing heavily before he manages to say, “Keep going. Come on, I want you to cum inside me, I’m not done.”
“Unbelievable,” Mobius murmurs near his ear. The permission makes his blood burn, though, and he pushes Loki back down with a hand on the back of his neck. He gets his own cum all over himself, soaking into his shirt off of the desk in patches. Mobius holds him there as he fucks him, chasing his own close release until his body is coiling towards it again.
When his orgasm does come, it comes with a burst of clarity. Heat explodes through him and consumes his body and his mind, but amongst it all, all he can think about is Loki. The way he’s gasping for breath under him, the erratic rise and fall of his chest, the words he’d said to Mobius earlier. The fact that he’s here, that they’re here together. He can’t shake the feeling that this is all right, that he’s doing the right thing. The clarity of his orgasm is overwhelming in its emotional intensity, so Mobius just turns himself over to the wordless sensation of it.
He comes down wrapped around Loki. His release is trapped inside Loki, having cum inside him, but still staying seated tight inside, unmoving. He holds Loki close, pressing him down into the desk, kissing the back of his neck and resting his face in the center of his back, exhausted.
“I love you,” Mobius says, pretty breathless himself. He wants to say a lot of things, but that covers most of the bases he wanted to hit. “I’m happy here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Loki says. His voice is a little scratchy, and he clears his throat. The noise brings a bit of real-world clarity back to Mobius; he kisses the back of Loki’s neck again, then withdraws, pulling out and separating them completely. Loki shivers in the cold; it makes Mobius want to surge back forwards and cover him again.
Instead, he goes to their bathroom down the hall. He takes a warm washcloth back to Loki, cleans him up until he’s warm and flushed. Loki looks up at Mobius from his partner’s desk chair, half-dressed and looking like an absolute debauched mess, cock still out.
“I conjured dinner for us before I came up here,” Loki tells him lazily. He trails his fingers through his own hair, working out a tangle. “I can heat it up for us, if you still want to eat. I would like to consider the possibility of sustaining ourselves of sex alone, however.”
“What’d you make?” Mobius asks, tucking Loki back into his pants and buttoning him back up. Loki catches Mobius’ loosened tie in his hand, drawing him in for a long, slow kiss. He’s languid, as he withdraws from him. He licks his lips, studying Mobius’ face.
“Boar and bread and honey mead,” Loki says. “Unless you don’t want something Asgardian. I can change it easily.”
Mobius pushes forward for a kiss. He keeps it chaste, relatively; it’s a close-mouthed press, but it’s hard and heated until they separate again.
“I don’t want anything to change,” Mobius tells him. Loki strokes Mobius’ cheek, smiling at him. The last unsettled piece of Mobius slips back into place, seeing that.
“You’re ridiculous,” Loki says. “But you know that.”
Mobius kisses him again, soft this time. When they separate, he presses their foreheads together.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. For not the last time, he hopes, he says, “I do.”