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It’s been six months since Loki last contacted him, and Tony is tired of waiting around.
Strike that.
Tony Stark doesn’t fucking wait around for the phone to ring like some lovelorn (Steve’s word) teenage girl. So he hasn’t been waiting for Loki to call him, he’s just decided that it’s time to move on. Because he was crazy to date/fuck/whatever the crazy alien god in the first place.
So he’s going out with an up-and-coming starlet. Or is it a model? He can’t really remember, but she’s got a cute name, like Candi or Brandi or something you can eat or drink, “but with an i.” The eating or drinking part is very important, because he doesn’t want to think about other names that end with i.
And so what if he can’t really remember her name, either. She’s about ten years younger than him, barely legal drinking age, and smokin’ hot. Blonde, because he doesn’t date brunettes, oh no he does not. And she definitely has blue eyes. Or maybe they’re brown. He’s not really looking at her eyes, but he knows they aren’t green, and that’s all that matters.
The restaurant’s nice, classy with quiet music playing. It’s the kind of place that Steve would probably like, with a string quartet and a dance floor where couples are slowly spinning around together. Candi/Brandi/Chari is looking at the people dancing like she wants to join them, and what the hell, why not? Tony knows how to dance, he’s pretty damn good at it, even, drunk or sober. So he throws back his whiskey (definitely not with an i) and asks his date to dance.
She's delighted, of course, and hangs all over him, those not green "eyes" pressing against him. He should be thrilled. This was what he lived for, not all that long ago, before Pepper. And so what if he's gotten out of the habit. It's like riding a bicycle - a bicycle named Candi.
Okay, so that’s mean, but this isn't really what he wants and he knows it.
So he isn't really all that surprised that his eyes are wandering. With-an-i doesn’t notice anyway, so no harm done.
At least it would be no harm done if they didn’t both notice the tall, curvy, brunette walking, no stalking over to them. A tall, curvy, vaguely familiar brunette, who Tony thinks he recognizes, but knows he’s never seen before. She cuts in without so much as a by-your-leave, and then whatever-her-name-is is offended, but Tony doesn’t care, because he only has eyes for his new dance partner.
“Were you having fun?” a husky voice purrs at him, and that’s when it hits him.
He knows why that face is familiar. It’s the eyes, green eyes.
“Hello, Loki,” Tony replies, not missing a beat in the dance, guiding his partner around the floor with practiced ease.
“I was having fun, yes.” It isn’t really a lie, because he was having fun, sort of. Loki doesn’t believe him - Tony can tell by the scowl that doesn’t really look all that different on Loki-as-a-woman than it does on Loki normally.
“You’re lying, of course. Don’t insult me.” Full red lips that Tony can’t seem to take his eyes off of curl into a smile. “I know your type, Tony Stark,” he/she whispers as she leans close to his ear. “You aren’t really interested in that vapid, brainless girl.”
Even if Loki hadn’t been pressed against him like something out of a teenage-boy’s wet dream, Tony would have to admit that, no, he doesn’t really want that girl, or any other girl like her. Loki isn’t entirely right though - that girl used to be his type. It just isn’t his type anymore. Now he goes more for the type who’s either going to break his non-existent heart or rip it right out of his chest. Not that he’d been interested in Obie... and okay, not even going there.
“No... but she was willing to come home with me,” Tony points out. “Make me a better offer.” He challenges because of all the things he thought he would find hot, he never expected a jealous shape-shifting alien god to be on that list.
“Oh, I think I have an offer that you cannot refuse.” Loki smiles a dangerous smile, one that Tony knows, and he feels really bad for a minute, because Loki’s teleported them back to Tony’s place before he has a chance to pay the check. It isn’t illegal if a supervillain abducted him, right?
Not only are they back in Tony’s tastefully luxurious bedroom, but Tony’s naked and tied to his own bed. He’d say that he hates magic, but he’ll wait until he sees where this goes, first.
Loki, he notices, is still dressed, and also still a woman - a very sexy woman, who’s kneeling over his hips. Tony licks his lips at the sight - holy hell that’s one hell of an offer - and Loki’s sinking down around him, or Tony’s rising up into Loki, or maybe it’s both. But they meet in a perfect combination of fluid and flesh, heat and hardness and.... well... Tony could go on and on, but just laying back and feeling is so much more an appealing prospect.
It lasts longer than he expects it to - which is saying a hell of a lot, because they’ve had some serious marathon sex in the past. This was... make-up sex on an epic scale. Tony could definitely get used to it - that is, if he survived. Catching his breath is surprisingly difficult, and he cannot find it in himself to ask Loki to stop.
Loki. Loki is going to be the death of him, and if he goes like this - well, Tony is more or less okay with that. In fact, it is almost a shame when Loki does finally stop, sighing his/her climax and gracefully slipping off Tony and off the bed. There’s a shimmer, like Loki isn’t quite there any more, and then she is a he again. Definitely male, but still sexy as hell.
He throws Tony a wicked smile over his shoulder before sauntering off to the bathroom. It isn’t until Tony tries to follow that he realizes he’s still tied up. Bastard.
Tony will make him pay for that. Somehow. When he comes back.