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The room is dark, empty, there are no windows, only a firmly locked door with a small hole drilled into it so that they can take a look at their captive every once in a while. Loki is sitting on a wobbly chair with his hands bound behind his back, and he is terribly bored. He idly looks at different spots in front of him, only to be able to see a slightly different shade of darkness, and counts the seconds. 1232, 1233, 1244…
He’s at 1567 when there is a crash outside. He stops counting and stares at the door, heart thudding, mouth dry. Smirking. Someone screams, but it cuts off abruptly, and then there’s nothing but silence. Finally, the door opens and slams against the wall with a bang. Light spills in and makes Loki squint.
Stark doesn’t say anything. He stays in the doorway for a moment, but then he's by Loki’s side, yanking at the ropes with a tight-lipped, narrow-eyed look on his pale face. When Loki is free, Stark grabs his chin and tilts it up, his grip so tight it nearly hurts.
“Do not do this again.”
His eyes are dark and his voice is low. His fangs are still out, and there is blood on his chin and hands and clothes. He looks a little debauched, a little dangerous, but Loki wanted him to be out of control, seething. Well, he’s still seething, but him being angry at Loki wasn’t a part of the plan.
“Why?” Loki asks, his smile sweet. “It can’t have been difficult for you. It’s a pity you didn’t let me watch.”
Stark lets go of him. “You could have been out of here twenty minutes ago.”
“So?”
“So?” Stark echoes, the words cutting through the air. “You let them -” But he doesn’t finish, instead he just stands there and stares and the light shies away from him, leaving them both in the dark.
Loki has seen him angry before. They fought a few times. He’s seen him furious, too, yelling at people in the middle of battles, but usually Loki isn’t scared of him anymore. Stark coaxes the fear out of him when they’re having sex or when he feeds on Loki, because it makes it more exciting for both of them, but that’s it. He knows that Stark won't harm him - knows it as certainly as he knows very few other things, and still, at this moment, he isn't all too sure.
"Stark," he says, voice tight. "I didn't mean to -"
"Oh, you did mean to," Stark interrupts. He sounds much too calm.
Loki swallows. "Well, I -"
"Everything all right here, boys?"
Loki peers past Stark at the door. Romanoff is standing right there.
"Yes," Stark says before Loki can even think about answering.
"You left some bodies lying around," she says, unbothered.
"Get rid of them."
Romanoff huffs, but when Stark looks at her over his shoulder, she lifts her hands and disappears.
"She knows?" Loki asks quietly.
"Well, she does now," Stark snaps. His expression smoothens out again immediately, though. "But I think she's suspected for a long time, so nevermind. Come on."
Loki has gotten used to Stark ordering him around by now - has grown to like it, even. Obeying doesn't exactly come naturally to him, but with Stark it felt right since the beginning. It hasn't stopped feeling right, feeling good since then.
It doesn't feel very good right now. But Loki gets up, anyway, and follows Stark out of the building. It's an old, abandoned office complex that HYDRA used as a hideout, and they found about it only a few hours ago. There was a battle, during which Loki got himself caught - not completely involuntarily.
He just wanted to see what Stark would do to get him back.
In the lobby of the building, Romanoff is walking around with a canister, spilling its contents everywhere. Loki isn't sure where she got it, but in his time as an "Avenger", he has learned that it's better not to question her.
"I'll burn the whole thing down," she says cheerfully. "I don't know how to explain the wounds."
Yes, the wounds. The bodies Loki stepped over on their way to the lobby looked like a wild animal had torn into them with teeth and claws, deep, long gashes, blood splattered everywhere. It seems impossible that Stark did that, Stark as he looks now, short as he is, wearing his undersuit, his teeth and fingernails seeming perfectly human. But Loki isn't fooled, of course - he has seen Stark fight. A few weeks ago they found another HYDRA hole, just the two of them, and Loki watched while Stark tore them all apart within an hour, if not less. He's terrifying and not at all human and Loki adores him more than anything. He'll keep him. It doesn't matter what he has to do or say, it doesn't matter that Stark is angry with him now. Loki will keep him.
Stark left his suit in front of the building. He steps inside, tells Loki to meet him at the tower and flies off, and Loki crosses his arms and glares after him. It's ridiculous to fight over this. Seriously.
"You know," Natasha says, coming to stand next to him. "This whole time I was half convinced the two of you were just playing a game that you'd get bored of in a couple of months, if not earlier. But you're actually his, aren't you?"
Of course he is. Loki is Stark's as much as Stark is Loki's. Natasha shouldn't say it as if she thinks it's news to him; there's nothing Loki is more sure of.
"That is none of your business," he informs her.
"Right." She lights a match and flicks it back into the building. "You're lucky Thor distracted the others. I'll go and tell them that Tony got injured and you've brought him home to patch him up."
Loki nods tightly and skywalks away.
*
When he's in the penthouse, he curses Stark for taking the suit. He flies fast, but Loki will still have to wait for him at least an hour. So he paces around the penthouse and waits, until Stark finally lands outside, his armour unravelling around him.
Loki feels as if someone took him and placed him back into the battle of New York just to watch him scream and struggle. Only that this time he isn't terrified and his body and soul are as whole as they will ever be again and he knows what Stark looks like when he's sleeping, curled up on his side, still and not breathing and vulnerable, and Loki can't make himself yell at him.
Instead, he meets Stark halfway, grabs him by his shirt and pulls him into a kiss.
Stark makes a pleased, low noise, one of those that makes Loki's mind just dissolve, until there is not much left except of how much he wants.
And Stark kisses him back, the grip of his hands tight on Loki's hips, and makes him walk backward. Loki doesn't even really notice, he's too distracted by Stark's mouth, the way he kisses him again and again, hungry, like he could survive on this alone.
Stark tears Loki's armour off him piece by piece. Loki's hands look for something to hold onto and find something hard and steady behind him. It's a bar stool, he realizes when Stark turns him around and pushes him against it. Loki wants to laugh, giddy, but it gets stuck in his throat when Stark buries his teeth in Loki's shoulder. Loki makes a terribly embarrassing noise, clinging to the bar stool, legs going weak.
Stark doesn't do it like this often - he doesn't just drink from Loki without preliminaries, because he prefers it when Loki exactly knows what's going to happen and lets it happen, no matter how loudly his instincts are screaming at him. But Loki doesn't mind this, either, not at all. He feels lightheaded, and it can't be from the blood loss because the wound isn't that deep and Stark doesn't drink much.
He doesn't give Loki time to catch his breath. His hand is on Loki's back and pushes. Loki bends over the stool immediately, unable to even consider doing otherwise. He would do anything Stark asked of him at moments like this, and sometimes that is scarier than Stark's strength and fangs.
"I've let you see me fight." Stark drags Loki's leather pants down to his knees. There is no anger in his voice anymore, but it makes Loki shiver nonetheless. "I would have let you watch me again, if you had asked. But that wasn't what you wanted, was it?"
"Stark," Loki says. It comes out choked and broken, barely even a word.
Stark ignores him. He puts his hands on Loki's ass, spreading his cheeks, and a moment later there's a finger at Loki's hole, pressing in. "You wanted to see me fight for you. Can you use magic or is that too much to ask of you right now? "
Later, Loki will be embarrassed because he didn't react to the condescending tone with a sneer and sharp words. But right now he doesn't care, right now he nearly stumbles over himself trying to give Stark what he wants, and the indignation is there but it's just extra fuel for the burning arousal in his veins.
He manages to use his magic to prepare himself - he is very familiar with this particular spell - and immediately Stark growls, a quiet rumble low in his throat that makes Loki tremble.
"Stark," he says again, and this time it's a demand.
Stark hushes him. Loki wants to complain, but all thoughts leave his head when he feels Stark's cock against his ass and then, just a second later, inside. Loki keens and feels Stark laugh against the curve of his neck, brief and sharp. Stark moves his hips at once, but not rough and fast as Loki expected. No, it's slow and deep and Loki doesn't know what to do with himself, Stark can't possibly expect him to keep standing the entire time. That he is still standing has less to do with his legs and more with Stark's hands on his hips. Loki does hold onto the edge of the bar for support and is lying on the bar stool more than anything else, he's sure he looks utterly undignified, but he doesn't give a damn. Every languid thrust makes him groan and he's already pressing back against Stark's hips as hard as he can, which isn't very hard at all given that Stark's hands keep him from moving. Loki is strong, but Stark is stronger, he can keep Loki in place easily.
"Tell me," Stark says - orders, really, his voice dark and steel-cold. His hand is on Loki's throat and he doesn't stop fucking him, his rhythm doesn't even stutter. "You won't do it again. You're mine. All of you belongs to me, and you won't let anyone take you away from me ever again."
Loki gasps. He feels Stark's mouth on his neck. "Please -"
"Tell me," Stark repeats. "Promise."
The words stumble from Loki's lips all too easily. "I won't do it again, I won't."
"You're mine."
"Yours." Loki reaches back, clutching at Stark's hand that is still on Loki's arn. He buries his nails in Stark's cold skin. "I promise."
Stark bites down on Loki's neck. The wound is deep this time, Loki feels his blood run down his throat, warm and wet. Stark drinks, and drinks, until Loki feels like he's floating. Stark's mouth disappears from his neck after a while, and Loki whines when Stark speeds up his thrusts. It doesn't take long until Loki comes with a shudder and a cry, helpless.
He can hear his own heartbeat. His breaths are fast and shallow, and the room is turning around him. Stark pulls back, and as soon as he takes his hands away, Loki's legs threaten to give in. Stark laughs quietly and wraps an arm around him, carefully guiding him down to the floor.
"Don't laugh," Loki says, hoping that it doesn't sound as slurred as he thinks it does. "I don't have any blood left in me."
"Don't be dramatic."
Loki is too dizzy to glare at him. Stark helps him lean against the bar between the stools. "Pot. Kettle. There's a saying, I think."
Stark kicks one of the stools out of the way and sits down next to Loki. "Lie down. You'll be fine."
Loki lets himself drop to the side. It takes some shuffling, but he manages to rest his head in Stark's lap. Stark rubs his back and plays with his hair. It's mortifying, but Loki doesn't care. He has some vague plans about moving to the sofa later, or perhaps the bed, but first his body needs to recover from the blood loss at least a little. It won't take long, it never does.
"I didn't mean to worry you," he says, the words muffled by Stark's pants. He is still completely dressed, which is very rude of him. Loki isn't even sure if Stark came, but honestly that's not his problem right now.
Stark doesn't deny it. His voice is unusually quiet. "I thought they had gotten the better of you somehow. I thought they had hurt you."
"Your lack of faith in me is insulting."
"You were gone."
"I wasn't."
"They had you for thirty minutes."
"Thirty minutes isn't a lot of time."
Stark runs his hand through Loki's hair. "I'd have killed them for ten seconds."
"I should hope so."
"I'll keep you," Stark says, like it's a fact. It is.
Loki smiles, but keeps his eyes closed. Mine, he thinks, and even though he is dizzy and the floor is cold and uncomfortable, he is happy. "How odd. I thought the exact same thing earlier."