Archive of Our Own

There is something off about Tony Stark.

Loki already noticed it the first time they met, in Stuttgart, and then again in the tower. The arrogance in Stark’s voice, the tilt of his smirk, his eyes - yes, his eyes, especially when Loki wrapped his fingers around his throat. His grin didn’t fade, he didn’t put up a fight, he didn’t even seem to feel threatened. A knowing look in those dark eyes, sharp and oddly indulgent, like an adult might look at a child that had suggested a ludicrous, but somewhat entertaining game. It was that look more than anything else that made Loki throw him out of the window, but now, in hindsight, it wasn’t what disturbed him the most. There’s something else that he still thinks about every time he sees Stark, something that makes Loki’s skin tingle like it always does when his senses tell him that there is a threat nearby. 

He does not remember feeling a heartbeat under his fingertips.

Loki is often the first Avenger - gods, he despises the word itself almost as much as the fact that it applies to him now - in the kitchen in the mornings, mostly because he is the only one who actually uses the kitchen on the so-called community floor at the start of the day. Thor always sleeps ridiculously late. Loki likes to let him sleep, because that means he’ll be left in peace several hours after waking up, so he always leaves the floor they share on silent feet and goes to make tea here. Banner sticks to himself in the mornings. At the moment, Romanoff and Barton are on some sort of mission, and when they are here they aren’t up early enough. Rogers is up early enough, but he prefers to start his days either in the gym or with a long run outside; by the time he enters the community floor to “spend time with his team” or whatever his little patriotic brain likes to come up with, Loki is long gone.

And Stark? Well, he doesn’t sleep in, that much Loki knows, because Stark seems to think that sleep in general is vastly overrated. He doesn’t eat breakfast, usually, but he does drink coffee, wagon loads of it, and sometimes - sometimes bordering on often recently - he saunters into the kitchen like he owns it, which he does, of course, and grins at Loki like he owns him, too. But that’s nonsense, naturally, just Stark’s arrogance and confidence flowing into that grin of his. 

It makes Loki shiver every single time.

“I thought I’d find you here,” is the first thing Stark says today, that grin tugging at his lips. It shows his teeth.

He walks up to the counter and starts the coffee machine, eyes casually flickering over Loki’s body. He always does that, always. As soon as they are in the same room, Stark looks at him, and it doesn’t always seem deliberate. No, he just takes notice of Loki, of the space he occupies, gaze always lingering longer on what little of Loki’s skin isn’t covered by clothes. Namely, his hands and his throat. It reminds Loki of the way Volstagg used to walk into the dining hall and look at the feast on the table, absentmindedly thinking about what he would try first. Stark is a lot more subtle, though. Loki notices it nonetheless. 

When the coffee machine is running, Stark turns and leans against the counter. Loki is still waiting for the water to boil, so he can't move away without making it seem like he's fleeing. That's exactly what it would be, though, because Stark is just a little too close for his liking. That's another habit of his, he likes to get close to Loki when it's possible, and Loki is always torn between wanting to lean in and wanting to get away. Most of the time he does neither, because something about the way Stark watches him tells him that sudden movements are not a good idea. 

"Have you been looking for me?" Loki asks, making sure that his voice sounds like it always does, smooth and even.

Stark's smile is a touch too knowing. He shakes his head. "No, not really. It's just that you're here every morning and it's nice to catch you alone, you know?"

Loki's brain - the part that is responsible for his fight or flight instinct - decides to take that as a threat, even though rationally he knows that Stark isn't going to attack him. Despite what happened in the past, they are on the same team now. Stark will not risk that; Loki's skills are a valuable asset and Stark and the other Avengers promised Thor to accept him, in as much as that was necessary at least. And it's not like they haven't sat here together before, talking for hours, losing track of the time. Stark is interesting to talk to, quick and sharp and, needless to say, terribly charming when he wants to be.

But sometimes Stark looks at him like he does now, and that tugs at something in Loki's stomach. He wouldn't usually describe mortals as predatory, but the word fits Stark surprisingly well.

The kettle whistles. Loki yanks his eyes away from Stark and prepares his tea, acutely aware of Stark's gaze on him. "Is there something you want, then?"

Stark shakes his head. "No. Well  yeah - just your company if that's alright. I haven't left the lab in, uh - days. Many days."

Six. Six days; Loki knows this because he feels safer when he knows where Stark is at all times; he came up with a spell for that exact purpose. He checks on Stark's location several times in an hour. 

"You must be hungry," Loki says, even though he knows that Stark won't eat anything. It's not like he hasn't seen Stark eat before, but it's very rare. "Breakfast?"

"Not right now," Stark says, smiling. "Thanks for the offer, though."

For some reason, Loki has to try to keep from blushing, which is pointless because even he can't keep his face from turning red when it insists on doing so. He isn't sure why he always feels like this around Stark, it's like the man enters the room and Loki's world just tips to the side so that he has to keep his balance on slithery, uneven ground. 

Stark is attractive, immensely so, but Loki doesn't think that's the reason. He has been attracted to people before, this is different. When Stark smiles at him, Loki wants to give him everything. He isn't sure where that comes from.

"Well, I -" He clears his throat. "I actually wanted to take this downstairs and… go back to bed."

"Oh," Stark says. "Yeah, okay, sure. If you want."

Loki does flee, then. He almost expects Stark to run after him, but he doesn't.

*

Loki asks Thor about it. That alone shows how much this - well, bothers isn't exactly the right word, because Loki isn't actually bothered. A little unsettled, yes, but not scared. 

Not as long as he and Stark aren't in the same room, at least.

Thor is sitting on the sofa, his feet on the table and his hand buried in a bag of chips. It's late. Once a week, Loki forces himself to sit down next to his brother and watch horrible movies with him, because Thor wouldn't stop annoying him otherwise. He's content enough when he gets to spend some time with Loki now and then.

Loki stares at the screen. The movie has been running for nearly an hour and he doesn't even know what it's about. "Thor?"

Thor makes an acknowledging noise around a mouthful of chips.

"What do you think about Stark?"

Thor chews and then swallows. "Stark? Why?"

"Just answer the question."

"Well, he is a fierce warrior, of course. His mind is impressive. I don't know what he's talking about most of the time, though, because of all the references."

"Yes, fine, but do you - do you sometimes think he is weird?"

"Weird?" 

"Yes."

"Loki, I think everyone who lives in this tower is weird." Thor looks at Loki, frowning. "What brought this on? Did he say something to you? If he insulted you -"

"He didn't. He's been -" He stops briefly. "Kind."

It's true, he realizes. Stark has been kind, has been trying to spend time with Loki more so than the others, and he hasn't pressured Loki into anything. Loki is not sure about Stark's motivations, though; he feels like they might not be as kind as they seem.

"What is the problem, then?" Thor asks, confused.

Gods, this was a stupid idea; of course Thor has no idea what Loki means. Even on a good day Thor is less perceptive than a damn tree.

"He is -" Loki searches for the right words. "Different from the other mortals, isn't he?"

Thor thinks about that for a moment. "I suppose, yes. I have to admit I don't see him that often."

Loki gives up. They watch the rest of the movie and then he goes to bed, and as he lies there, unable to sleep, he thinks about what Thor said - that he didn't see Stark often couldn't be true, Loki saw Stark all the time. They meet in the kitchen before sunrise, they run into each other in the elevators, they happen to be in the gym at the same time almost every day. Loki has even been in Stark's workshop a few times because Stark had some questions about involving magic in his work.

Then again. Stark doesn't meet any of the others in the kitchen, does he? And he's almost never in the gym when others are there. He goes to the team nights when Rogers insists on forcing them all to stay in one room and play board games or something equally tedious, but he never stays long. Because of the spell Loki knows where Stark is at all times, and the better part of the days he's in the lab, sometimes with Banner, more often alone. Every few days he leaves the towers to go to a bar or a club of some sort, probably living up to his playboy reputation. He doesn't actually spend a lot of time with his team, and Loki doesn't… 

He has no idea how Stark treats the others. He doesn't pay attention to that, is always too distracted by the way Stark treats him.

Loki thinks about that for a while, and then he decides to casually mention to Rogers that they haven't had one of those team nights in a while.

*

There is a room on the community floor that is made for movie nights, filled with soft, comfortable seating and a TV that covers nearly a whole wall. It's luxurious and cozy, the homeliest room in the whole tower, and Loki feels completely out of place every time he is here.

Rogers is already there when Loki arrives, and he tries to make small talk for a while, but it's forced and insincere and Loki just wants to be somewhere else. Thor is late, but when he finally shows up it gets a little better; he is good at lighting up the room. Loki only has to sink a little further into the sofa cushions and wait. Banner enters the room, quiet and awkward as usual. They start to argue about what movie to watch and still haven't decided when finally - finally - Stark comes in.

Just seeing him makes Loki's mouth go dry. He watches as Stark joins the discussion, grinning and teasing. He doesn't look at Rogers like he wants to eat him whole. He doesn't get closer to Banner than is socially acceptable. He doesn't smile at Thor as if he's daring him to run away.

By the time they agree on a movie, Loki has come to the staggering conclusion that Stark only acts that way around him. He hasn't even considered that so far, he thought Stark simply was like that.

Now he doesn't know if this realization makes it better or worse.

Before the movie starts, Stark comes over to Loki and sits down next to him. Right next to him, leaving barely a few inches of air between them. If Loki wanted to touch him, he would just need to move his leg a little to the left, their thighs would be pressed against each other then. So close that with any other, he could feel their body heat. Stark's body seems to be cold.

"Looking a little dazed there, Prancer," Stark says, his voice low. A little too low, too intimate. "You okay?"

Loki swallows and nods. "Yes, of course."

There is a bowl of popcorn in Stark's lap. He offers it to Loki, his grin crooked and eyes dark. His eyes are always dark. "Steve said you suggested this?"

Loki hesitates, but after a moment he carefully takes a handful of popcorn out of the bowl. "Ah. Yes, so to say."

"Huh. I wasn't aware you liked movie night that much."

"I don't."

Stark looks at the screen and smiles. He doesn't touch the popcorn himself. The whole evening, he stays exactly where he is - next to Loki and, as it happens, between Loki and the others. Now and then, his thigh brushes against Loki's, and every time Loki doesn't know whether he wants to flinch away or press himself against Stark's side.

*

A few days later, Stark invites Loki to his workshop again. Loki doesn't think twice about it. No, he thinks about it at least a hundred times while he makes his way to the elevator and rides down, he thinks about the fact that he really shouldn't jump as soon as Stark called, and about what it means that that is exactly what he is doing.

Stark grins when he sees Loki, wide and pleased. "There you are. Come here."

Loki goes to him. Stark stands up from his chair and puts his cold hands on Loki's shoulders, positioning him. Loki frowns but lets it happen, he isn't sure what Stark would do if Loki protested. Right now Stark seems pleased enough. He nods, and suddenly there are lights all around Loki - no, not lights, holograms.

"May I ask what you're doing?" he says carefully.

"Just stay still for a sec, J's taking your measurements." 

Stark's hands are still on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. The touch isn't unpleasant, but it makes Loki's heart beat a lot faster. There's adrenaline in his veins, preparing him to either fight or get away.

"My measurements?" he asks, breath hitching.

"Yeah. I wanted to make a new helmet for you - one with a HUD, you know? And then I can just make the rest as well. You and Thor are the only ones who haven't gotten new armour from me."

A gift? Loki looks at Stark, confused. "I do not require new armour."

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to. I'll make it either way. Just wait until it's finished, you'll love it, promise."

"Well, if you insist."

"I do."

Loki can't say no to him. The holograms disappear. Stark plucks a flint from Loki's chest, and before Loki knows what he is doing he has grabbed Stark's wrist. His skin is cold.  Loki's body is always cold as well, an effect of his true heritage shining through the glamour, but at least his body feels alive. Stark's doesn't.

Loki's fingertips wander to the underside of Stark's wrist. He presses them against the skin, searching. He feels nothing.

So much for Stark being a human.

Stark watches him, curious. His smile is light, almost playful. "Hadn't figured it out yet, huh?"

Loki can't speak. 

"You're scared of me," Stark says, fascinated. "Do you think I'll hurt you?"

Loki shakes his head. Finally he can get his hand to let go of Stark's wrist. "I don't think you will. I think you could."

"I could, yeah." He looks Loki up and down and shrugs. "You'd put up a fight, of course. A fight I'd win, eventually. Could be fun."

Loki grits his teeth. "Is this fun to you?"

Stark raises a brow.

"Threatening me? Tracking me, coming too close to me? Do you enjoy this?"

"Hey," Stark says and leans against his desk, gesturing at Loki. "If anyone's tracking anyone here, it's you. You think I haven't noticed that spell of yours? It follows me wherever I go."

Loki blinks. "You have magic?"

"No. Well, yes, sort of, but not like you do. I've got experience, though."

Loki read every single book the library in Asgard has to offer, and now he wracks his brain for an explanation. There is one, but he hesitates to put it into words.

"To answer your question," Stark says, "yes, it's fun. I didn't expect you to react like this. Thor hasn't even noticed."

“Thor is blind,” Loki says, making Stark snort. "Who knows?"

Stark tilts his head to the side, gaze still fixed on Loki. "Pepper and Rhodey. Happy. Steve. Natasha too, I think, although we've never talked about it."

"I see."

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

Loki shakes his head.

"Good. I mean, thanks." Stark pauses, studying Loki's face. "I'm going out tonight. Want to come with?"

The question catches Loki off guard. "Why?"

"Why not? You don't have to, of course."

It's a mistake. Loki knows it is; encouraging Stark is not a good idea. But Loki can't help it, his curiosity gets the better of him. One day, it will probably get him killed.

"I'll come with you."

Stark grins at him.

*

They leave the tower in one of Stark's cars. Stark talks about said car - where he got it, how he improved it, what he likes about it - and doesn't seem to mind that Loki stays quiet. Stark is in a good mood, Loki realizes, and he is nice to listen to. Nice to watch, too, with his hands on the wheel and his throat exposed, eyes hidden behind colored glasses even though the sun has already disappeared.

Loki hasn't asked yet where they are going. It turns out to be some kind of club, dark and classy, thankfully not overly crowded. The doorman takes one look at Stark's face, then he greets them politely and winks them through. Stark knows him by name. His hand is on the small of Loki's back, leading him through the club to a comfortable corner they have all for themselves. There is a bar, but Stark stays seated, and not much later someone comes and brings them drinks.

"Do you want something else?" Stark asks. "Or something to eat?"

"No, thank you." Loki watches as Stark leans back and cradles the glass against his chest. "Why do you drink at all? I can't imagine it has any sort of effect on you.'

Stark shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. "It's just a habit, really. You learn to fit in eventually."

"But you do not eat."

"Eating is boring," Stark says, wrinkling his nose. After a moment he amends, "I mean, I like cheeseburgers? The really bad ones that don't even taste like the stuff they're supposed to be made of."

His tone is conversational, cheerful even - normal. Loki has to remind himself that Stark did not bring him here to kill him. He doesn't manage a reply. Instead he thinks about the way Stark's body works. He's practically dead, so he doesn't have a metabolism, does he? What happens to cheeseburgers when he eats them? But well, his main nourishment doesn't just sit around in his stomach, either, so… Loki frowns into his glass. He simply doesn't know enough about Stark's kind.

Stark stays quiet, too. His arm is on the backrest of the sofa they share, and Loki is all too aware that if he leaned back, he would feel Stark's arm against his back. A part of Loki wants to lean back, wants to put his hand on Stark's thigh and kiss him, even, but the thought of getting anywhere near Stark's mouth also makes Loki's blood run cold.

He downs half of his drink in one go, then he says, "I have never met a vampire before."

Stark actually seems surprised. "Never? Really?"

Loki shakes his head. "Your kind are… unique to Midgard, and apart from a few visits here and there I hadn't spent much time here before… well."

Stark hums. "Did you visit before the obliterations or after?"

"Before, I think."

"Oh, then you absolutely ran into a few. We were everywhere back then, it was a lot more fun." He snorts and raises his glass to his lips. "I haven't met anyone else in ages. I'm the only one in New York, as far as I know."

Loki barely even heard the last part. He looks at him, stunned. He read about the obliterations - about two centuries ago, the humans managed to hunt the vampires down, and by now they consider them extinct. So if what Stark implied is true, he has to be at least a few centuries old.  "Does that mean you were born before the - obliterations?"

Stark smiles. "Honey, I'm almost as old as you."

Loki blinks at him. A vampire that old? Gods. By Aesir standards, Loki is still young; a thousand years are nothing. But as far as he knows, vampires who survived for one or two centuries are already considered old. No wonder Stark is so… intimidating.

"Well," Loki says dryly, "that explains it, I suppose."

"Explains what?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what sort of," he made a face and looked away, " effect you have on people."

"On you," Stark corrects, almost gentle. "It's not my fault that you want me, Loki."

"Of course it's your fault. I read about your kind, I know what skills you have. Older vampires, especially."

Stark looks indulgent again. "You're talking about the whole mind control thing, right? Please say yes, because if you're thinking about bats and mist I'll lose it."

"So you cannot turn into a bat."

"No, I cannot turn into a bat."

"That's disappointing."

"Tell me about it. Just to be clear, I'm not controlling you in any way."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. It only works on humans."

Loki pauses at that. Stark still looks relaxed. Almost amused, really.

"If it did work on you," he says, "and if I had been using it, you'd have begged me to have you for dinner weeks ago."

Wonderful. "Is that how you hunt, then?"

"No. Haven't done that in a while, actually, it's so boring."

Yes, it's fun, he said with a smile. Loki swallows. "You prefer it when your prey is scared. You want it to try to run away from you."

"Not anymore," Stark says. "They're never fast enough."

"I am fast enough."

Stark's eyes are bright. "Yes."

"Is that why you're so fixated on me? Because I could provide you with a challenge?"

"You like that thought," Stark says, sounding pleasantly surprised.

Loki glares at him. Stark doesn't seem impressed.

"You do. And you like that you're scared, too. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Stark," Loki says, a warning that he knows will be thoroughly ignored.

"Tony," Stark says. "It's exciting, isn't it? A nice change, too, to be scared of someone who you know won't harm you."

Loki clenches his jaws. "Stop."

"Okay." Stark chuckles, his hand wanders to Loki's shoulder, just resting there. "I'm not here just to talk, anyway. Do you see that man? At the bar."

Loki sees him. A young man, tall and blond, alone. "Yes."

Stark finishes his drink. "I'll be right back."

He gets up and makes his way to the bar. He smiles widely and greets the man, who recognizes him immediately; Loki can tell by the way his face lights up with awe. Stark laughs, he talks, he stands a little too close. His expression is the same as the one Loki is familiar with by now, charming but calculating. Predatory, indeed.

Three minutes after Stark approached the man, they leave together.

Loki stays seated for a while, frozen in place. He doesn't want Stark to be alone with the stranger, doesn't even want him to look at him, and it takes a moment until Loki figures out why. At first he thinks he doesn't want said stranger to be harmed, but that's ridiculous, Loki doesn't care about the man in the slightest. So there is only another explanation left, and that is jealousy.

That is a problem.

Loki puts his glass on the table and stands up. The spell tells him that Stark hasn't left the building, and Loki doesn't need long to find them. He waits in front of the bathrooms, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and tells himself that he must not look like he is sulking.

It only takes a few minutes. They come out together, Stark's arm wrapped around his victim's middle. The man looks pale and like he isn't sure what's going on, but to Loki's surprise he is very much alive.

"Easy," Stark is saying, his tone gentle, just slightly mocking. "Can you make it? Yes? Go and wait outside, a friend of mine will pick you up and bring you home."

The blond man frowns. "I'm not that drunk."

"You can barely walk straight. Go."

"Yeah, okay. I had a good time, though, so - uh, maybe I'll see you around?"

Stark's grin is blinding. "I'm sure."

The man nods and goes, a little weak on his feet. Stark turns to Loki, apparently not surprised to see him there. "You look pissed."

"You didn't kill him."

"Maybe you should say that a little louder and sound even more surprised, I don't think everyone's heard you yet."

"You didn't kill him," Loki repeats, louder and more surprised. 

The people closest to them look a little uncomfortable.

"Thanks," Stark says dryly. "You want to leave?"

"Do you?"

"Nah, I want another drink."

"I thought you just had one."

Stark chuckles. He leads the way back to their nook, where they sit down next to each other again, too close, not close enough. Stark orders new drinks, but Loki barely even notices because he is so distracted staring at him. It's difficult to see in the dim light, but he thinks that there is a faint color to Stark's cheeks now. He's so pale usually; in the beginning Loki thought it was because he spent most of his time in his workshop. Loki wonders if Stark's body is warm now, or at least warmer than before.

He wants to touch him.

"You didn't really think I'd kill him, did you?" Stark asks, voice quiet, amused. "Here? What about the body?"

Loki shrugs. "You would find a way to get rid of it, I'm sure. Or you could just leave it there. After all, who would suspect Tony Stark?"

"I think they'd notice eventually if everyone I hook up with ended up dead."

The phrasing makes Loki scowl. Everyone I hook up with. It makes him think about the blond man again, about Stark dragging him into the bathroom and pinning him against the wall. The blond man breathless and eager, Stark's hands all over his body, wanting him. Loki digs his nails into his thigh.

"Did you?" he asks. "Hook up with him?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"You shouldn't have let him go," Loki says. "It is an unnecessary risk."

Stark doesn’t seem worried. "He won't remember what I did. Why do you want him dead so badly?"

"This is not about me."

"No?" Stark traces the edge of his glass with his thumb, watching Loki thoughtfully. "I could go after him."

Loki holds his breath for a moment.

"Would you like to watch?" Stark asks, tone still casual. 

Unable to believe what Stark is offering, Loki keeps staring at him. "If I said yes -"

"Then we would leave right now." Stark shrugs. "I don't know his address, but I could ask Happy - or follow his scent, I can still smell his aftershave."

"No," Loki says. "I do not want to watch."

Stark accepts it easily. "Wouldn't be worth it, anyway. He didn't even taste that good." Stark empties a glass and sets it aside, then he stands up and stretches. "Come on, then, let's go."

"Where to?"

"My penthouse, obviously."

Obviously.

*

The penthouse brings back memories of more unpleasant times, but Loki pays no attention to them. He is focused on Stark, who slips out of his shoes and tosses his jacket aside, which leaves him in washed out jeans and a shirt with a science joke on it. Loki frowns at him.

Stark seems to find his expression funny. “What's wrong, Tricks?”

“You're centuries old,” Loki says. “You reek of power. Couldn't you dress a little more appropriately?”

Stark laughs out loud at that. “What, like you?”

He takes a step toward Loki and tugs at his shirt. It's black and tight, hugging Loki's upper body, and he knows that it looks good on him, that's why he chose it tonight. He did also wear a suit jacket though, mostly in order to cover up a little; he didn't want Stark to think that Loki was… well. Too eager.

“I admit it suits you,” Stark says quietly, a smile in his voice. He reaches under Loki’s jacket and no, his hands are still cold. “You can’t imagine what I want to do to you.”

Oh, Loki can imagine. He’s been imagining it all night. “Hunt me down?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

“How would you do it?” Loki asks, even though he knows that he shouldn’t. Stark’s hands feel good on his body, even though the shirt. “In your armor?”

Stark huffs softly. He pulls Loki’s shirt out of his pants, unhurried. “I don’t need my armor to hunt.”

“But how do you do it, then? You’re neither fast or strong enough to -”

Loki’s back hits the wall. At first he isn’t sure how that happened, because a second ago they were still standing several steps away from said wall, but then he realizes that Stark’s hands are on his shoulders, holding him in place. 

“I’m faster than you,” Stark says. “Stronger, I’m not so sure, but definitely strong enough.”

Arousal makes it a little hard to breathe all of a sudden. Loki has been waiting for a demonstration all day. “Shall we test that?”

Stark’s fingers slide under Loki’s shirt and lightly stroke over his skin above his hips, making him shiver. “Take off your jacket.”

Loki does and lets it fall to the floor. Stark’s eyes darken even more. He reaches up to gather up Loki’s hair and get it out of the way, then he leans in. Because of their height difference he has to stretch a little, which Loki would find amusing if he wasn’t distracted by how close Stark is all of a sudden. He rubs his nose against the side of Loki’s neck and breathes in - the first time Loki hears or sees him breathe at all. His hands automatically come up to grab Stark’s arms, but he doesn’t push him away. Stark makes a pleased noise, low in his throat, and it goes straight to Loki’s cock.

“Stark,” he says, helpless, almost shocked by how rough his own voice is.

“Tony,” Stark corrects for the second time, lips moving against Loki’s throat. He’s smiling.

“That’s not your name.”

“Stark isn’t, either.” His voice is dark now, like gravel. “I don’t have another one at the moment, though.” He breathes in again and presses his lips to Loki’s neck, hands gripping his hips more tightly. “Shit, you smell divine.”

Loki shudders and closes his eyes for a second. Stark lifts his head and looks at Loki, hunger in his eyes. His lips are parted. Loki catches a glimpse of something he hasn’t seen before. He puts a finger under Stark’s chin and tilts it upward, staring at his mouth. Stark grins and reveals his fangs, letting Loki look. They are pearly white and long, pointing slightly inward. Two at the top, two shorter ones at the bottom, and the rest of his teeth are sharper now as well. He doesn’t look human anymore.

Loki lets out a breath. He moves his thumb up to Stark’s lower lip, playing with the thought to press the pad against the tip of Stark’s tooth. It would slice it right open. These fangs aren’t made to make small, punctate wounds - they would leave deep cuts in Loki’s skin, the bleeding as severe as possible.

Loki swallows. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yes.”

“You just drank.”

“Just enough to take the edge off.”

Loki lets his hand sink, puts it on Stark’s shoulder. “Why not more?” 

“I need more than one of them can give,” Stark says. He starts to open the buttons of Loki’s shirt. “Without passing out on me, at least. I always use two or three.”

“I -” Oh gods, Loki shouldn’t offer this. "I don't want you to -"

"Then I won't."

"No, I -" Loki sucks in a breath. He's almost dizzy with want and he doesn't know why, doesn't even care right now. "I don't want you to use someone else. Use me."

"Use you, hm?" Stark rubs a hand over his mouth, hiding half of his rakish smile. Curiously, his fangs have receded into his gums, but Loki can't mistake him for a mortal anymore now. Stark takes a step back, giving Loki room to move. "I think I will. To the bedroom, then."

The order makes Loki's thoughts stutter. It takes a moment until he can make himself move, then he licks his much too dry lips, nods and heads in the direction Stark indicates.

Stark is right behind him. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't breathe, his steps barely make a sound. He follows Loki into the bedroom and closes the door.

It's a big room, illuminated by the lights of Manhattan. The bed is unmade, which gives Loki pause.

"Do you sleep here?"

"What, did you expect a coffin?"

Stark approaches him from behind. Loki can sense it, but he doesn't turn around. "No. I wasn't sure if you slept at all."

"I do," Stark murmurs. His hands touch Loki's sides and move to his bare stomach. "Sometimes. I don't like it a lot. Take off your shoes.”

Loki looks down at his feet. “And you are sure mind control only works on humans?”

“Yes. Why?”

With a sigh, Loki takes off his shoes. “Because I find myself quite desperate to do as you say.”

“Oh, that’s all you.” Stark slides Loki’s shirt off his shoulders and kisses his back, nose brushing against Loki’s skin. “And that’s a lovely thing to say, by the way.” 

Something sharp stings Loki’s back. It’s light, doesn’t even really hurt, but Loki still flinches. Immediately, Stark’s hold on him tightens. His nails scratch Loki’s stomach and he makes a sound that is terribly similar to a growl. A spot on Loki’s back is burning; Stark’s fang must have broken the skin when Loki flinched. 

Stark’s hands disappear, the feeling of his body pressed against Loki’s back does too. Loki turns around and finds Stark looking at his own hand. He is rubbing thumb against his index finger, smearing a drop of blood over his fingertips. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this.” He looks up, meets Loki’s eyes, and smiles. “Every time you bled in a fight in a fight I nearly lost it.”

Oh. Now that he said it, Loki realizes that whenever he gets injured, even if it’s just a scratch, Stark isn’t anywhere near him. Loki wants that to be different the next time he bleeds, wants Stark to grab him and take him away from the battlefield, unable to wait. He wants Stark to lose control because of how much he wants him.

Stark comes closer again, puts his hands on Loki’s chest. He traces Loki’s collar bones, dips a fingertip into the hollow between them while his other hand strokes up Loki’s side. “You’re colder than humans.”

“I know.”

“Colder than Thor, too.”

“Yes.”

Stark hums. He rubs his thumb over Loki’s nipple, making it harden. “You should drop the glamor some time. I’d like to see you as you are.”

Loki’s breath catches in his throat. “You know about that?”

Stark nods. “Magic has a smell. At first I thought you were just constantly protecting yourself or something, but eventually I figured out that it’s not your magic at all. Yours smells better.”

That’s a compliment, Loki supposes. “Thank you. But I would prefer to stay - like this, at least for now.”

“If that’s what you want,” Stark says, unbothered. His hand curves around the side of Loki’s neck, gaze fixed on his throat. “I’ll want you either way.”

Hearing that makes Loki dizzy. “Is it - difficult to resist?”

“Usually? No, not really. Not anymore.” He lifts a shoulder and reaches down to open Loki’s belt. “It’s different when I like someone. I couldn’t think about anything else all day.”

Loki leans forward and kisses him. Stark returns it immediately and fiercely, mouth opening, but as soon as Loki wants to explore it with his tongue, Stark pulls back. 

“Careful,” he says, chuckling. “I don’t want to hurt that silvertongue of yours.”

Loki frowns at him. “I want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me all you want when I’m not this thirsty anymore. My fangs won’t be a problem then.”

Loki huffs. “Fine.”

Stark snorts and gives him a nudge. “Get naked. On the bed.”

Loki nods. While he takes off the rest of his clothes, Stark shoves the blanket off the bed so that it isn’t in the way. When Loki sits down on the edge of the bed, Stark is next to him immediately, grabbing him and pulling him to the middle of the bed. He moves Loki around as if he weighs nothing, and the need that’s pooling low in Loki’s stomach in reaction is so strong that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t need to think about that, thankfully, because Stark shows him exactly how he wants him - on his back, legs spread so that Stark can kneel between them. Loki has to resist the urge to cover himself up somehow; he’s usually not shy in bed, but right now he feels vulnerable, even more so because Stark is still fully dressed. There’s a flutter in Loki's chest that stems from the way Stark is looking at him. Like he wants to devour him and is thinking about where to start.

“That’s it,” Stark says, hands wandering from Loki’s knees to his thighs. His voice has that gravelly note again, he sounds like he’s starving. “How much can I take from you, you think?”

Loki takes a shuddering breath. Given how quickly his body regenerates, blood loss has never been a problem. As long as Stark doesn’t damage any vital organs, Loki will be fine tomorrow, he knows that. He curls his fingers against the bedsheets. “Don’t stop until you’re sated.”

“Also a lovely thing to say.” Stark sounds a little absent. His nails press against Loki’s thigh so hard that Loki thinks they will cut the skin soon. Stark doesn’t move.

“What?” Loki asks after a while. “Feel free to hurry up a little, I don’t have all -”

Stark’s gaze snaps to him and Loki falls silent. Sometimes, the way Stark looks at him reminds him of the way certain other people have looked at him in the past, people who found pleasure in strapping him to a table and making him scream until he was broken enough to carry the scepter. Loki huffs and moves, wants to try to get away from Stark’s hands and out of this room. Wants to see if he can. He gets to the edge of the bed, then Stark grabs him and pulls him back. Loki fights against the grip, but Stark holds him down with staggering ease. He straddles Loki and keeps Loki’s wrists pinned to the mattress next to his head.

Stark grins down at him, fangs bared. “That was fun. Want to try again?”

Loki shakes his head. His breaths are ragged, his blood is rushing in his ears. Stark shifts on top of him, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against Loki’s cock. Gods, he’s hard. He wants to lift his hips and grind against Stark, but he manages to hold still, even though it makes him tremble. 

“Breathe, pet,” Stark says, a little amused. “It will hurt only for a second. You’ll be fine tomorrow. Don’t move your hands.”

Loki obeys and keeps his hands where they are even when Stark lets go of them. He curls his hand around Loki’s throat, fingers pressing against his pulse point. Loki expects him to lean down and bury his teeth in Loki’s neck, but instead Stark moves a little backward, coming to kneel between Loki’s legs again. Then he does bend over him and rubs his nose against Loki’s stomach, doubtlessly smelling him again. His mouth is cold when it wanders to Loki’s side. There is a sudden, burning pain that makes Loki flinch and gasp. Stark was right, the pain only lasts for a second, then Loki gets dizzy with arousal. Stark drinks; Loki can feel him sucking at the wound and lapping up the blood, and all Loki can do is lie there and gasp. He whines and writhes, but Stark keeps him from moving too much. 

After a while, Stark moves. His hand grabs Loki’s thigh and pulls it up, then his mouth is on Loki’s skin again, fangs buried in his thigh. Loki’s thoughts start to feel slow, sluggish, like he’s floating. He’s not trembling anymore, his body feels limp. It goes on and on until -

*

Loki opens his eyes. His nose is pressed against something rough. A hand is playing with his hair. His body feels heavy and sore. Frowning, he rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes.

“Morning, Lokes.”

Loki looks up. Stark is sitting next to him, leaning against the headboard of the bed. Loki must have been sleeping with his face buried against Stark’s thigh. He doesn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed. 

“Good morning,” he says, surprised by how rough his voice is. He clears his throat. “How long did I sleep?”

“About ten hours. It’s morning.”

Loki can’t remember the last time he slept this long without being interrupted by nightmares. “Ah.”

Stark hums. He’s holding a tablet and is idly scrolling, gaze fixed on the screen. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine?”

“Is that a question?”

Loki makes an annoyed noise and sits up slowly. Yes, he’s a little sore, but all in all he feels okay. Good, even. “I’m fine.”

Stark gestures at the nightstand, and Loki is pleased to find water and a plate with a sandwich waiting for him. He empties the glass first and then eats the sandwich with a few bites. He could eat more, but for now he’ll be fine. He puts the plate back on the nightstand, then looks down at himself.

He’s still naked. He spots three wounds - one on his side, one on his inner thigh, one on his inner arm. They aren’t bloody anymore, but the imprints of Stark’s teeth, the cuts his fangs left in the skin, are still clearly visible. Loki traces the imprints on his arm, frowning. He doesn’t even remember Stark biting him there.

“You passed out eventually.” Stark sets the tablet aside. “Pretty understandable, I drank a lot.”

Loki looks at him. “I thought you would bite my neck.”

“And tear out your throat by accident? Can you imagine the mess?” Stark closes his hand around Loki’s wrist and raises his hand to his lips. He kisses the back of Loki’s hand, then turns it to press his lips to Loki’s inner wrist. “I already got close enough to your arteries as it was, and I had to play a little safe. Next time I’ll have more self control, then we can try riskier stuff if you want.”

Loki is enthralled by the sight of Stark’s mouth close to his skin. The fangs are gone. There is a slight hint of color on Stark’s usually so pale cheeks. “Next time?”

“Yes.”

It’s not a question, or an offer. Loki smiles. “And when will that be?”

“In a week or so.”

“Very well.”

“Do you need to eat more?”

Loki shakes his head. “Not right now.”

Stark nods and lets go of Loki’s hand. He reaches out to put his hand on the side of Loki’s neck and pull him close, into a kiss. Loki melts into it at once, cupping Stark’s jaw. Maybe he’s imagining things, but Stark’s skin seems a little warmer. Loki presses closer and this time, Stark doesn’t protest when Loki’s tongue slides past his lips. He grabs Loki’s hips and pulls him into his lap, wrapping his arms around him. Loki is already panting. He breaks the kiss, gaze flickering down to his trembling hands. He’s already half hard just from kissing; he wants Stark so much he can barely think straight.

“Did we -” He cuts himself off, licks his lips. He traces the line of Stark’s throat with his thumb. His collar bones disappear under his shirt, and Loki is all too aware that he himself is naked while Stark is still completely dressed. “We did not have sex, did we?”

Stark smirks and raises a brow. “Honey, you passed out. I know you asked me to use you, but I’d like you to be conscious during it.”

Loki lets out a breath. He appreciates what Stark did - or rather didn’t do - and still the thought is oddly alluring. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Stark’s. He shouldn’t feel or act like this, he knows. It’s not a good idea. But Loki likes doing the exact opposite of what he should be doing, and letting Stark use him as he wishes is the exact opposite of what he should be doing.

Typical.

Stark hums and strokes Loki’s back. “There’s no reason to smell so scared.”

If he can smell it, telling him that Loki isn’t scared is probably pointless. He sighs and looks at Stark. “I know you won’t harm me. Thor would kill you.”

“Thor would try.”

His grin makes Loki’s skin tingle. He narrows his eyes. “I need to see you fight. Properly, without your suit. Soon.”

“We can spar when no one else is around,” Stark says. His lips brush against Loki’s jaw, then wander down to his neck. “Tomorrow, maybe. Today we’re staying in bed.”

“Oh, are we?”

“Yes.”

Loki frowns up at the ceiling, but makes no move to push Stark away. His mouth feels heavenly on Loki’s neck. “Is this how this works, then?”

“Hm?”

“Me doing as you say.”

“Preferably, yes.” Stark lifts his head. “You said you wanted to.”

“I do,” Loki admits quietly. “What if I didn’t want to stay in bed with you all day?”

“You’re welcome to leave whenever you want.” Stark’s hand glides down to Loki’s ass and squeezes. “But as long as you stay, you’re mine, so you’ll do as I say. You’ll bare your skin when I need to feed on you, and you’ll spread your legs when I want to fuck you. A pretty easy job, really. You’ll do great.”

Loki swallows thickly, clutching at Stark’s shoulders. “And what do I get in exchange?”

“I’ll take care of you,” Stark says simply, without even a hint of hesitation.

“What will happen when you get bored? When I get bored?”

“Who says we will?” Stark kisses him, but only lasts a few seconds. “Any more questions? Because I  want to take you apart, and I’m not a patient man.”

“You’re not a man at all.”

Stark laughs and then his mouth is on Loki’s again, and this time it’s rough. Demanding. Loki lets Stark control the kiss and all too soon he feels dazed, the need is overwhelming. 

When Stark breaks the kiss to mouth at Loki’s neck again, Loki shudders. “Stark -”

Stark’s chest rumbles. The growl doesn’t sound human. He grabs Loki’s arms and pushes him off his lap. He makes him lie on his stomach. Stark’s strength makes pleasure shoot through Loki’s body, so he lets himself be manhandled and moans when Stark leans over him, biting at Loki’s shoulder. Loki can feel no fangs; he has to ask about that at some point but now he doesn’t think about it for very long. Stark’s hand is on his ass, squeezing and stroking, nails scratching. He slaps Loki’s cheek, hard enough that Loki cries out.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Stark asks, voice perfectly even. He digs his nails into the burning skin he just hit. “More?”

“Whatever you want, I -” Loki hisses when Stark spanks him again. “Oh, gods. Yes.”

Stark chuckles and pulls Loki’s hips up. Loki scrambles to spread his legs and pants into the sheets, hiding his face. He feels hot all over, his thighs tremble. Stark bites down on Loki’s ass and it stings. 

“Stay,” he says then and moves away from Loki.

Loki stays, but he turns his head and watches as Stark pulls his shirt over his head. He opens the drawer of the nightstand and procures a small bottle, which he takes with him when he returns to his place between Loki’s legs. Loki hears a zipper. Stark spreads Loki’s cheeks and then two slick fingers touch his hole. He’s not gentle, but thorough, and when his cock presses against Loki’s hole the stretch burns just slightly. Loki moans and wants to move, push his hips up, but Stark’s hands keep them in place. He pushes in quickly, shifting a little on his knees, a hand stroking over Loki’s lower back. He is big and it’s been ages since Loki last did this, he feels impossibly full. 

“Move,” he grits out. “I need -”

Stark buries a hand in Loki’s hair and pulls. Loki can’t fight against it, he has to lift his head and even then it still hurts. “None of that,” Stark says calmly. “You can whine all you want if you can’t control yourself, but I’ll have you as slow or as fast as I want. Alright?”

“Stark,” Loki says. It sounds small.

“Is that alright?” Stark repeats, steel in his voice.

Loki tries to get his breathing under control and fails miserably. “Yes.”

“Very good,” Stark says, much warmer now. “I’ll take care of you, remember? You just have to let me.”

Loki nods, and Stark lets go of his hair. Loki is thankful that he can hide his face again. Finally, Stark moves, thrusting in and out slowly at first. He quickly picks up the pace, though, pushing Loki into the mattress with every thrust. Loki grasps at the sheets beneath him, trying to find something to hold onto. At first he tries to stay silent, lips pressed together, but then Stark changes the angle slightly and Loki can’t keep from moaning anymore. Stark growls again and puts a hand on Loki’s back, holding him down while he pounds him so hard and fast that it hurts. Loki feels helpless, like he couldn’t stop Stark even if he wanted to, and it makes something in him break. He can’t think anymore, doesn’t care about what sounds he makes or doesn’t make. Stark’s jeans are rubbing against Loki’s thighs. His hands will leave bruises on Loki’s hips. Loki is falling apart and he wants all of it and more.

When Stark comes, it’s with his teeth buried in Loki’s shoulder, making him bleed. He keeps thrusting lazily and licks at the wound while Loki gasps and shudders beneath him. Eventually, Stark pulls out and rolls Loki onto his back. He lies down next to him and kisses him, but Loki is too far gone to return it as expertly as he would like. Stark chuckles and brushes Loki’s hair out of his face. 

“Do you want to come, pet?”

It’s a stupid question. Loki huffs and nods, trying to press himself against Stark’s body. It’s infuriating how calm Stark is. He’s not even out of breath - of course he isn’t out of breath, whyever would he be? - and Loki has lost all of his beloved composure. It’s fitting, in a way, and that’s the thought that makes Loki cave in.

“Please,” he gets out, distracted by Stark’s hands that are roaming over his body like they want to own all of him. “Yes, please, please.”

Stark answers by wrapping his fingers around Loki’s aching cock. Loki gasps and almost curls in on himself, between the hand on his cock and Stark’s mouth on his skin it’s all too much. But Stark is ruthless and strokes Loki hard and fast until the pleasure rolls over him and swallows him under. Loki clings to Stark until he feels somewhat like himself again.

Stark smiles and kisses Loki’s forehead, pulls him close against his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I don’t think I’ll get bored of you anytime soon.”

Loki can’t reply. He’s still catching his breath. Stark strokes his back. When Loki falls asleep again, he feels safe.

*

Two weeks later, Stark says, “Get your things, you’re moving in,” and so Loki gets his things from the floor he shares with Thor and moves into the penthouse. He doesn’t explain anything to his brother, but well, Thor isn’t that stupid, he connects the dots himself. 

He catches Stark alone in the gym a few days later. Loki can’t hear what they’re saying - he’s sparring with Natasha at the moment - but by the time Stark pats Thor’s shoulder and leaves him standing there, Thor looks a little pale. Stark catches Loki’s eye and nods into the direction of the exit before he leaves. Loki wants to follow him immediately, but he also doesn’t want to make Natasha suspicious. Which is, as it turns out, completely unnecessary.

She sighs and lets go of him - which Loki is thankful for. She might be a mortal, but all of her moves are impressively painful. “This is getting ridiculous.”

"Excuse me?”

“You’re so fixated on each other it’s not even funny. I heard you in the showers the other day and I don’t want to repeat that experience, so go to the penthouse or I’ll drag you up there by your ears.”

“As if I would let you.”

Natasha raises a brow. “As if I would need you to let me.”

Loki rolls his eyes, and she rolls her eyes back at him, and then he heads for the elevators. Thor is by his side in an instant. 

“Loki,” he says.

“Thor.”

“He is not -” Thor pauses. “Not like the other mortals. I think he might be dangerous.”

Loki frowns at him. “Dangerous? Have you seen him? He’s tiny.”

“Yes, but - be careful, yes?”

“Of course, brother,” Loki tells him very earnestly, which has Thor rolling his eyes. 

He leaves Loki alone, though, which is good, because Stark is waiting for him by the elevators with an arched brow.

“Tiny?” he says.

“You are,” Loki says, grinning at him. “It’s not my fault that it’s true.”

“I’m not tiny,” Stark insists. He grabs Loki’s hand and drags him into the elevator. When the door closes, he pushes Loki against the wall.

Loki smirks. “Thirsty?”

Stark’s eyes are already dark. “Yes.”

“I want to shower first. And eat something.”

“Sure, pet,” Stark says, nodding, his hands on Loki’s sides.

“What did you say to Thor?”

Stark smiles and pulls back. The elevator arrives at the penthouse. “Nothing much. Just that you don’t need his supervision. Or protection.” He entwines their fingers, they make their way to the bathroom together. “It’s cute that he worries, though.”

“He doesn’t need to.”

“No,” Stark agrees. He kisses Loki’s knuckles and then lets go of his hand. “Take your time. Dinner will be ready when you’re done.”

“Oh, yes. For both of us.”

Stark laughs. It lets Loki catch a glimpse of his fangs. He watches him go, a warm tingling in his stomach that has nothing to do with fear.