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Natasha walks in the door, face stone cold as though she's on a mission. Like the Black Widow has some bad news to deliver. (Wanda blinking people out of existance again? Another good hero gone, dead, lost in time-space? Fury busting an artery over something?) She has some DVDs in hand, and Thor looks thrilled.
"Lady Widow! Are these more of those... movies? I wish to see them again. Another marathon!"
"But please, no more explosions and car chases," Tony adds with a dramatic flick of his wrist.
Clint darts his hawk-eyes away, like he's embarrassed of his answer and hoping no one would hear him. "I want to see Brave."
"Hey, me too!" Janet replies excitedly, leaning in closer to the man on her right, while the affronted Hank on her left looks pointedly at her.
"Let's watch something of intellectual value."
Captain America smiles at her, saying, "Natasha, what do you think we should watch?"
But she's just standing there, in front of the TV and blocking the calm Sunday news channel they all like, the one that doesn't cover the recent devestating events but rather the slow, boring, happy news about random installation art featuring Cadillacs in the desert or Auschwitz survivors happily married and living. Bruce seems to sense this before the others. As he leaves the room, because he's smart enough to guess it's probably not news he'll take well if it's enough to unsettle the Black Widow, the others start to realize that she's just standing there, looking stern and unrevealing.
"I found Loki."
Thor stands immediately, summoning Mjolnir (and once again creating a huge, crashing hole in another one of the walls in Avenger's Tower, much to Tony's dismay).
"In these..." She suddenly looks slightly, so faintly embarrassed — but still embarrassed, and suddenly Hawkeye shoots up out of his seat — as she corrects herself. "...films."
A millisecond passes, and Hawkeye knows. "Holy—"
"What? What'd I miss?" Tony asks as his eyes are darting back and forth between Natasha and Clint.
"Fuck no."
Clint is pacing around the couch, shaking his head, but Natasha's only nodding in turn, eyes wide.
"What're they talking about, Hank?"
"I have no idea, Jan."
"That is disgusting. Fuck, did you watch all of those? Is... is Loki in all of them?!"
And suddenly Tony gets it too, because he knows what kind of "films" involving Loki that are disgusting enough to gross Clint of all people out. And while he's pretty sure Loki wouldn't turn down a role in a gorefest horror film, none of that grosses Clint out. Oh, it's something dirty and disgusting and Tony can't believe it.
"Shit. Holy shit. You sure it's Loki?" Natasha's nodding, fast and crazed. "Loki, a fucking porn star?"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—"
Jan's undiginified noise is overlapping the sound of Hank's gaping, over the sound of Thor dropping Mjolnir to the floor with a loud thud and another gaping crack, over the sound of Captain America's coughing because he knows what a porn star is and what the modern age's porn consists of and oh my God—
"Please, comrades, explain to me," Thor starts, very slow, and Captain America can sense that he probably already understands fully, "what you are accusing my brother of being."
"Oh geez, you should have told us while Thor was gone, now I can never watch," Tony complains, throwing a hand over his eyes dramatically.
"Thor, a p-porn star is..." Jan looks around for help; luckily, Natasha finishes for her, saying each word with caution.
"He has sex. While people record him."
It's painful, watching Thor sit down slowly. Thor never does anything slowly. But he's sinking back into his seat, sinking in the words as slowly as the sun's sinking down into the New York landscape. Tony can't bare to watch, he hates this kind of tension and how he doesn't have alcohol to deal with it, so he gets up, grabs a disc and goes. He doesn't look back at Thor or their other's judging him, but he's out too fast to hear them yelling at him to stay.
"Stark--"
"Tony, I don't think you want to watch those!"
***
It started as campy as Tony expects from every porno, but he admits it has some class. Or, at least, Loki does. Like he's just been to class, like he's an unassuming college student with a messanger bag, college-sized books, thick-rimmed glasses and a collared button-up with a bow-tie. Yes, a bow-tie. The title of the DVD's flashing his mind—"Sugar Daddy," Tony cringes in his armchair across the large, flat-screen TV of his pirate rooms, and oh my God. Loki's not the high-roller, the money-maker, the sugar daddy.
"I'm back from class," Loki says as he opens the door and enters the moderately upscale-looking home. He's laying the accent on thick, as thick as the cheesy music fading into the sound.
The actor he's addressing turns out to be an older man, a man (a man!) Tony's mind echoes; not too old but aged nicely into the 40s or 50s, with defining but attractive wrinkles and a goatee and chestnut hair just barely hinted with peppered white. He's dressed to the nines, like a billionaire, sitting in a posh armchair with an expensive-looking tablet (but not a Stark tablet, a knock-off) in his hands.
"How are you doing in your studies?" Loki's sugar daddy - Tony cringes again, he hates that term, it's too cheesy and too relevant to him sometimes - asks as he lowers his tablet and arches a brow.
"Fine."
His answer is curt.
"Fine?"
The rich man reaches out, grabs Loki's wrist, and Tony almost expects Loki to lash out and subdue the man, but he doesn't—he looks at him, with a hint of a smile, and nods. He smiles and subtly nods as though he knows what's next, and he even looks a little unsure. And damn, Tony suddenly thinks Loki might be a proficient actor. The camera zooms into the villain's - the student's - face, all cheekbones and thin lips and bright emerald eyes, as he says, "I need a few more books for class."
The camera pans downward, slowly. There's money in the rich man's hands, a stack of hundreds, crumpling softly as he pushes into the student's tight back pocket. His hand stays there, rubbing.
He asks, "Have you been a good boy?"
Tony can't help but think, oh God, here it comes.
Loki simply nods, slowly.
He untucks and unbuttons Loki's shirt, revealing a flat, white stomach, with the barest curve hinting at a set of toned abs. He mouths at Loki's pale skin, groping Loki's firm ass and working his way up to the nipples. "You know I'm not paying school fees unless you've been a good boy."
He moves his to the other nipple, licking, sucking, biting softly to leave it raw and sensitive. "Have you been a good boy?"
"Yes," Loki manages to say, eyes shut and mouth letting a shaky sigh. His dark green bow-tie's popped off, half of his shirt is hanging off his shoulders, and his trousers are threatening to be pushed off, revealing defined, V-cut bony hips Tony tells himself he doesn't want to put his hands on, but the older man's hand is there anyway, the other hand sneaking away inside of Loki's trousers, groping again at that ass as Loki leans over for kisses.
There's a gasp, and the older man insists, "Yes...?"
The trousers are down, and God, there's Loki's fucking hard-on, for all the world and Tony "Playboy-Millionaire-Philanthropist-Alcoholic-Pervert" Stark to see, as well as the softness of Loki's milky white buttocks as it's being squeezed and smacked just the way Tony would have if he wanted to — not that he wanted to, he told himself — to make it flush a faint hint of pink.
Loki looks down and says, hushed and low like it's a secret between just the two of them, "Yes, Daddy."
Tony should be cringing, laughing—it's cheesy, it's campy, it's cheap porn, but he feels so hot under the collar as Loki is pulled down on his knees, no longer towering over the older man, face suddenly pushed up against a hard, leaking cock. Tony doesn't feel threatening by its enormity, because he shouldn't, and it's just Loki anyway, who looks up at the man with gleaming green eyes and a hot, wet, open mouth as his glasses are hastily removed. He fists the base while licking and sucking at the tip, using a lot of tongue like Tony likes, and then taking in the whole length from tip to balls like the fucking porn star he is.
"Good boy," the other man groans.
Loki's head is bobbing inbetween the lecherous older man's thighs at a tantalizing pace, changing angles, sucking at the base and even the balls. He runs his tongue along the vein, and the camera changes to an overview of Loki sucking the head, licking it and the slit playfully as he looks up at the camera - at Tony - through lashes; he goes back to taking in as much as he can and moaning and deep-throating and Tony wants a tight grip on Loki's messy raven hair just like other man, pushing and pulling at Loki while thrusting hard, breathing, "Yes, so good, good at sucking Big Daddy's cock."
He pulls the student, the Trickster, away from his still-hard cock, pulling Loki up onto his lap to kiss that burning mouth, burning so raw and warmly. They're sharing open-mouthed, messy kisses, sending the sound of their wet tongues clashing and aggressive kissing throughout the room as Loki's removing the older man's tie; suddenly Tony finds himself gaping just a little, mouthing the air as if he needs someone to kiss, almost wishing he could be kissing Loki like that. Oh. Oh.
Tony looks down for just a millisecond, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the screen, from the hand running down Loki's neck all the way to the waist, pushing crotches and throbbing lengths together, from the way Loki's tilting his head back everso slightly to yield his neck to kisses and hickeys, from the way Loki rolls his hips teasingly. His eyes are tempted to leave the seductive haze of green telltale eyes to the lower arch of Loki's back, as the older man lowers and lowers his hand until it's reaching for the spot that makes Loki gasp hotly. Tony's trying to press down on his own crotch, his hard, hard leaking erection caught tight in his pants to make it go away because there's no way Loki of all people can be doing this; yet he can't help but jerk his hips up a little, and the friction makes him grunt, makes him dizzy, makes him think he just might come soon before—
"Tell Daddy what you want."
The older man is gripping Loki's waist, brushing his throbbing cock against Loki's entrance.
"Tell me, boy, you want my cock, don't you?"
"Yes." Loki is the Liesmith, he's skillful with words, but Tony's never heard the God of Mischief say anything like this before, could have never imagined it to be so fucking provocative, even if it's all acting in a cheap, hot porno. "I... I want Big Daddy's cock."
Tony's cock is throbbing, hurting.
"I," he barely whispers, panting heavily, "want Daddy's big, big cock in me."
"Good boy."
His raven locks are a mess when Loki throws his head back with a shuddering hiss and a gasp. Tony's mesmorized by the sight of his slightly open mouth, his long neck, his lashes fluttering. He's lifting himself up onto his "daddy's" cock, pushing up and down and fucking himself onto the thick cock, moaning delicious, mind-numbing obscenities in his velvet-deep voice: "Oh, Big Daddy, yes, more, I can't—"
Two, three, four, five, six quick pumps and Tony realizes he already freed his own cock, and he's pumping it with both hands and spit in Loki's rhythm, whose strong straddling thighs working to get as much of the older man's thickness in him as possible.
Loki's pushed up and off, and Big Daddy stands up, holds him close. He's almost a whole foot shorter than Loki.
"Oh, oh," Loki says, and is pulled in for another mouthy, deep kiss. He gasps, needy and desperate between the kisses. "Fuck me now, Daddy."
He's surprised he hadn't come yet, right then and there, but he stopped pumping his fists, watching the old man as he pushes Loki down on the chair, ass up and perfectly displayed just for Tony.
"Where are your manners? You have to ask nicely."
Loki throws a hot, desperate over his shoulder.
"Please."
Tony stops breathing, forgets to breathe, while watching the man line himself up at Loki's entrance and push in.
"Come on," Tony finds himself saying aloud, voice haggard and deep and fucking horny, as he's fisting his cock again at a fast pace, thrusting hips hips and trying to imagine he's the one fucking Loki into the cushions with his own hardness, making Loki's spread legs and arms holding onto the chair for dear life shake with exhaustion and pure ecstasy. "Talk to Big Daddy. Talk to me."
"Yes, yes, yes," Loki's moaning, crying in wanton pleasure, almost as if he's answering to Tony himself, "fuck me, fuck me harder, harder, Daddy, oh, aah, aah—"
A groan escapes Tony's lips as the camera zooms in, focusing in on the thick cock thursting in and out of Loki at a punishing rate. From the balls to the tip, deep and hard.
He almost doesn't have to watch to pretend he's fucking into Loki; it's the sounds that drive him mad, that arouses him to the brink of insanity—the sound of Loki's purely pornographic moans and "yes, oh yes, Daddy, please" (it's whenever he says "please" that really gets Tony going), the sound of slick skin slapping against each other, the sound of the chair bumping into the small table next to it with every powerful thrust, which follows with Loki's sharp inhale Tony finds himself drunk off of, almost moreso than the heavy gaze of Loki's glossy emerald eyes.
The camera zooms out. Loki's back is arched perfectly as he's pushing in rhythm to fill himself with the huge cock, his ass creating the perfect swell Tony wants to smack lightly, to kiss and to fuck into. His hand is gripping on the top of the armchair, his shut eyes opening sudden with an especially forceful thrust - they're green, gorgeous. Tony likes this view best, he can't see the other actor's face, only what he thinks is the mischievous student's pure lust (but maybe Loki's a goddamn good actor) and how much he enjoys taking someone's cock into him. The anonymous man leans over to kiss and suck Loki's lower neck, but soon returns to gripping onto bony hips and pounding, pounding hard into the student, chanting softly about how good Loki feels inside and how fucking tight Loki is (or maybe it's just Tony thinking how Loki would feel inside). Loki only moans and gasps in return, and Tony, he finds himself whispering, "Oh fuck, Loki" hushed and harsh, and oh, Tony's coming hard, feeling his orgasm take over him like a wave of pleasure.
He closes his eyes and evens out his breathing, listening to the isolated sounds of Loki panting and gasping and moaning, getting thoroughly fucked and enjoying it. They're so close, he knows, so he opens his eyes and watches Loki's pale back arch deliciously, perfectly as Loki's older man is fisting his cock. He's releasing messily onto Loki's back with a grunt, and soon Loki's coming with a cry that makes Tony hot and makes him want to rewind and watch it all over again, until he realizes and asks himself aloud, "Natasha likes watching gay porn?"
***
"Yes, I like watching gay porn," Natasha says again to Clint, irritated because it's not the first time he's explained to Clint. She's tried to keep it secret, but it's hard with Hawkeye.
"Ugh, I still can't..." Clint's throwing his arms around, making nonsensical gestures. "But it's... two, two dudes. Two dudes."
He pauses dramatically, narrows his eyes, and whispers, "Two ＰＥＮＩＳＥＳ."
She's rolling his eyes at him. "You're being a hypocrite."
Jan widens her eyes at Clint's direction. Hank's shaking his head.
"Wha--I don't like watching two dudes get it on with each other!"
"No, I mean you like watching two girls 'get it on,' zhopa!"
"You know it's not the same thing and don't switch to Russian on me, you—"
"Now let's calm down," Captain America says. "I don't really understand how either of you can watch anything like that, but—"
"Oh shut up!"
Hank stands up, inhaling deeply. "Even if it is Loki, what can we do? Is he doing anything wrong?"
"Oh yeah, it's wrong," Natasha says, and Hank's rolling his eyes at the innuendo while Clint's gesturing a gag.
Clint is still fake-vomiting after a minute, so Captain America tells him, "Grow up, Barton. I didn't think this time period would be so closed-minded to these kinds of people."
Hawkeye's fed up with their self-appointed leader taking charge, so he takes a DVD and shoves it into Cap's chest. "Alright Cap, since you're so 'open-minded,' why don't you watch one!"
"I will. We all should, to look for clues," Jan's giggling hysterically, but he ignores her, "for something that might suggest he's up to something."
He snatches the DVD and marches away, leaving the Clint and Hank gaping, Jan laughing, and Natasha nodding a little too enthusiastically (but her face is still stone cold, she's not admitting she's happy to have friends to share her interests with now).
***
It's not a big deal, he's no schoolgirl. That's what Steve thought, but a blond man is walking in, somewhat scrawny and naked and hard (and for a relatively skinny fellow, he's big, huge). He's holding onto a rope, a leash, leading the way, commanding someone to walk forward and into the room. That someone at the end of the leash is Loki; he too is completely naked, but bound, blindfolded, gagged by leather and chains. I should stop here, Steve thinks, but even with a blindfold and gag Steve can tell he looks a little scared. He wonders if Loki is doing this willingly, if he actually enjoys being pushed roughly onto the cheap bed with hands tied up too tightly behind his back (but he's a murderous villain, so he doesn't feel too much pity). He also wonders as the blindfold's being removed if Loki has modeled for an art class before, because he's composed of nice long lines and sharp edges and subtle, soft curves, bent over like that, but his thinking is stopped aside as a... the other man, the leader, is smacking the curve of Loki's buttocks with a long paddle, and not too playfully.
"That's right, you're going to get it. Yeah. Fucking whore. You deserve this."
The slaps and faint clinking chains and Loki's muffled moans, whimpers are resonating through Steve's ears. His eyes are trying to scan the room for the evidence he scarcely remembers earlier but it's plain with only a cheap metal-framed bed, supplied with only a mattress. Even though this is a pornographic film and he's probably just acting and he's a super villain, Steve can't help but be distracted by the emotion in Loki's eyes; his eyes are glistening, like gems, of course he doesn't enjoy this, Steve thinks, and he wants to help, wants the man to stop the spanking and even more so the verbal abuse, but the commanding man's only hitting harder in between short, not-so soothing rubs, sometimes using the paddle to rub in between Loki's cheeks.
"Little faggot, you like this too much."
He finally stops after an eternity, roughly throwing Loki onto his back. He's tall, Steve wants to sketch Loki laying on his back like a flat field of white snow, but the other man is climbing on the bed, over Loki. He removes the gag, letting Loki's hot gasps fill the room, and Steve anticipates a kiss, but the leader continues crawling forward until his... his length is slapped shamelessly against Loki's hollow cheeks until Loki catches it into his gaping mouth.
"That's right," the leader groans, hums. "I want to hear you fucking gag. Come on."
Loki has a handsome profile, high cheekbones, nice ink-black hair curled at the ends and splayed intricately on the bed in ways that he wants to sketch; so he focuses on those thoughts instead of the burning in his cheeks, or the thighs blocking his view of Loki, or Loki's mouth being violated so roughly. The camera shifts, zooms out, and Steve wants it to go back to only Loki's face and geometrical planes of his body, instead of watching the lead man hovering over the unarmed man, thrusting too harshly into his mouth. The violating, unwanted hips and buttocks are covering Loki's flushed face. Steve has a sudden desire to see those glistening emerald eyes again.
"Take it, yeah, take it, cock-sucker." Loki's gagging. Steve frowns as the offender continues his verbal tirade as he thrusts down into Loki's mouth, who can't do anything but lay there on the bed, trapped underneath a man's hips and between his legs. "Fuck, you like this don't you, you little fag. You like my cock, whore?"
He pushes into Loki's mouth, all the way to the hairs and stops when all of it is deep into Loki's throat.
Loki nods and groans, but Steve thinks it's just acting. He thinks the leading man should treat Loki better even though his own cock is twitching. He doesn't like the sound of Loki's gags and choked gasps when the leader removes himself, but does like the way Loki's chest heaves, up and down. Steve likes Loki's skin, surprisingly unblemished and strangely pale, especially along his back when he's roughly rolled over. The super soldier wishes the perfect curve of Loki's ass weren't so bright pink, because it must sting, and it isn't milk white like the rest. It's an artistic exaggeration, but as the other man brings down his hand hard against Loki's ass again and again, the pink gets redder and white seems whiter; oh, it's almost nice, the contrast. No, no, Steve thinks, this isn't right at all.
The geometric planes of his long, lean body makes him reach for his sketchbook, but he falters as Loki's un-apologetically yanked up by the leash and re-gagged.
The commanding man runs a hand through Loki's hair with a mock show of affection that sends a chill through Steve, until he suddenly grips and pulls Loki's head back, further exposing the collared neck. "You're nothing. Worthless. Look at you, just a fucking pussy."
He tugs on Loki's hair again, whispers in his ear.
"You're only good for a quick fuck. Isn't that right?"
There are tears threatening fall in those green eyes, or maybe Steve's imagining them as Loki slowly nods, causing the chains adorning his collar to jingle. But Steve knows he's not looking into the leader's eyes, doesn't want to. He jerks his head to look away, but he's grabbed by the chin. "Look at me, you piece of shit."
Steve finally grabs a hold of his sketchbook.
"I'm going to fucking pound into you like the pussy you are."
Loki's eyes are wide and so green, but he's forced down again against the mattress, face down and hips up. Steve has to place his sketchbook on his lap, ignoring his now throbbing erection. He can feel a drop of sweat roll down his temple, but he ignores that too, focusing on the way Loki shuts his eyes, the faint wrinkles between his brows and forehead. He ignores the slick sound of the other man thrusting into him too roughly, large erection abusing Loki, pushing in quickly with too much force, much more than Steve would use. Steve would take it slow, draw it out to make it feel good, but the other man is only giving shallow, hard thrusts that has Loki crying into his gag.
"You're a lucky little faggot," the offending man's breathing hard, "You get to be fucked by my cock."
More thrusts. "No one else will want you. Worthless."
The other man continues his erratic thrusting and harsh put-downs; he begins to tug at the leash to thrust in deeper, forcing Loki's head back and creating a nice arch that Steve has a deep, deep desire to sketch but he's just gripping onto the sketch board with both hands, covering his hardness. Loki's gagged, pained moans are louder now, and Steve tries not to focus on the sound but he does, only because he wishes that they weren't gagged and that he wasn't acting, hopes they're not forced. It's a job, he tells himself, maybe even some sort of scheme, maybe something to being bound into vulnerability and degraded in such an intimate setting that Loki benefits from, somehow.
Finally, finally the man stops and pulls Loki back up, who's shaking just enough for Steve to notice. He removes the gag - Steve knows better than to expect a kiss at this point - just to lead Loki to his knees on the hard wooden floor. Loki's moaning as he takes the full, slick length in his mouth again but Steve knows it's all for show. The other man grips onto his messy raven hair too tightly, pushes Loki too forcefully all the way until Loki's nose is deep in the blonde curls, marring the perfect profile Steve wants to sketch (but it looks good, in a way, Steve isn't telling himself this). With a few quick thrusts he pulls Loki away at commands him to suck the tip, and Loki does so obediently; pliantly, actually, because the leading man's doing all the work, pushing and pulling Loki's hair with painful tugs, when all Steve wants is to run his hands through that hair while Loki's kissing the head of his own—
Suddenly the camera shifts to a good view of Loki's profile as he's yanked back, white spilling all over his face and oh, God, Steve thinks, he looks beautiful this way.
***
"Alright, Cap's right, in a way, but I want to take a more scientific approach." Hank stands up, hand at his chin. "An experiment, if you will."
He's walking, as though pacing in thought, and turns around, pointing at them.
"How about you guys watch the pornos starring an evil villain and some dicks, and when you're finished I'll jot down your resulting reactions."
He swiftly exits. Clint looks back and forth between Natasha and the door, then bolts for the door when Natasha's holding out the DVDs toward him.
"I always tried to get him to watch some of the mild stuff with me but now that Loki's involved I don't think he will ever try. You wanna watch with me, Jan?"
She looks at the remaining two. No one's moving and the atmosphere is tense. Natasha's eyes shift towards the windows. The sky is cloudy, but eerily still.
"Hey, Thor, you okay?" Jan asks. "You've been quiet over there."
He's hunched, eyes burning into the carpet, inhaling and exhaling too slowly. It's not a subject any of the other Avengers - maybe Tony - would touch, probably because they don't know but the Black Widow figured it out long ago. Thor and Loki's relationship is destructive, suicidal, and so very broken but it's still that kind of relationship, just a heated and hate-filled shard of it, and Thor wants to mend it. Everyday they both want to kill each other, there's no doubt, but Thor still looks up at her with hurt blue eyes and asks, "Does he have many different bed partners in these?"
She nods.
There's an excruciatingly long pause before he asks, "And... they do not hurt my brother, do they? Dishonor him?"
She doesn't know how to answer, so she only looks down, guilty. He bristles at that, but says nothing for a long time. They're both leaving Jan to fidget awkwardly by herself, until Thor gets up, Mjolnir firm in his hand. He stalks up to Natasha and stops, and they're staring each other down. They say nothing to each other when Thor takes a few DVDs and leaves.
***
Thor knows this isn't like Loki. This isn't how he beds people. He's more demanding in his actions, more passionate in his kisses. He says very little words but his breaths and cries loud enough to tell Thor he wants more; he's always moving his hands all over Thor's body, not gripping the sheets or desk or rug—but, Loki seems so lost in another man's embrace and they're so far apart that Thor doubts, doubts their nights together, doubts how deeply Loki meant the little words he whispered those nights. He's doubting because Loki is the Liesmith and he's watching the fourth or fifth DVD, and he has seen different men take his brother like a whore, hurt him and fuck him in ways Thor didn't think he would like; and, none of these men are anything like Thor, until the rolling words stop and the pictures are back on again.
It is an odd room, bright colored and decorated with pictures and little statues, and there's a young man on the bed and he's as big as any Midgardian, built like a warrior, almost as big as Thor — he has golden blonde hair as well, and golden tan skin, and Thor wonders if Loki had a choice in this bed partner, but there's Loki knocking on the wall in the doorway, with a toothy, brilliant smile he hasn't seen in a millennia and gods, it's beautiful and Thor wants it to be fake or wants it to be directed towards him.
The blonde puts down the thing in his hand, what he suspects to be some kind of "phone," but nevertheless he watches the way the embrace each other, like old friends who have not seen each other for centuries. Loki's holding onto the embrace, willingly.
"You're back from college," the golden young man says.
Loki chuckles. "Just visiting my favorite little brother."
The other brother pushes away from the embrace, staring into Loki's eyes. Thor wants to see them, those green eyes.
"Why do you call me that?" the other brother asks with a frown.
"Because, you're younger than me, of course, still in high school," Loki explains patiently, not in the least bit irritated or condescending. "As the school's star athlete, I hear. The Warrior of Capital High."
He pick up a golden statue - a trophy - and wiggles it, but the warrior smacks it from Loki's hand, causing it to fall to the ground and with a hard thud.
"What are you—"
"I'm bigger than you now, brother," the golden warrior nearly growls, shoving Loki onto the bed. "You should be calling me Big Brother."
"Yes, I can see you've gotten bulkier," he says dryly, waving a piece of paper with a D in his hand, "and none of that went to your brain."
Thor perks up, upon his brother's voice, his personality.
"Have you even tried studying?"
The warrior is climbing over Loki, burying his nose against the crook of Loki's neck, where Thor likes to take in his brother's scent, but Loki pushes the warrior away, and the warrior is whining, "Why should I? Do I have to be exactly like you? Like some fucking nerd?"
"You should because you have to to get into a good college and—what are you—"
The other brother is unbuttoning Loki's Midgardian tunic, nearly ripping it in haste, drawing a gasp from Loki. "Brother, stop, we can't—"
"Shut up."
"Don, stop—"
The other brother has Loki pinned down, forceful and unyielding.
"No, Mother might..."
"Mom's not here. It's just you and me."
Thor inches closer to the television screen, staring at the way Loki bites his lower lip to stifle a moan just as he used to, long ago, when when Thor would scatter soft kisses all over Loki's long neck and map Loki's body with his hands. But the other brother's not kissing softly, no, he's sucking and biting that causing him to cry out, "No!"
"Why are you fighting back? You didn't fight back before."
"You giant oaf!" he practically yells in a hushed voice. "I told you specifically to stop, and you couldn't keep your stupid, fucking, horny teenaged hormones in control for two minutes!"
The warrior brother looks abashed. Thor's reminded of a similar conversation a long time ago. "It's gotta be longer than two minutes."
Loki sits up and pulls his hand away, looking disgusted, but doesn't move from his other brother, who's kneeling in between his legs. "We're related, Don. This can't happen. I'll always love you, but you'll always be my little brother. You'll understand when you're older."
"But I am older," the warrior whines, scooting in closer, brutishly lifting his fake brother's legs up , pressing the large bulge in his jeans against Loki, pressing their foreheads together.
"Oh," Loki gapes while the other brother is removing their shirts, "You weren't kidding about being bigger."
Loki tries to move away when he's suddenly kissed, but the golden warrior throws an arm around his waist and pulls him close, forcing his tongue through Loki's lips because Loki should be resisting and he is, just for a while until the two collapse on the bed, deepening the kiss. Loki can't pull away now, underneath the bulk of the other brother; Thor can't tell if he's trying to push the brash young man away or simply feeling the carved muscles. Thor's pushing away memories because they're fuzzy and he's doubting his own experience, even when he finds the way Loki escapes the overpowering kisses to gasp, "No, no, stop," familiar, echoing in his mind. But Loki's brother, his other brother, doesn't reply, he's hastily removing Loki's jeans and boxers from his legs.
"Doesn't look like you want to stop," he breathes against Loki's quivering lips, taking a hold of Loki's manhood.
He gives it a quick few strokes. Loki shuts his eyes and inhales sharply, "No, I..."
As he continues to stroke the full length of Loki's manhood, he whispers into Loki's ear, hot and heavy, "You said so yourself."
"You love me, you always will."
Loki's green eyes widen at the sight of the other brother's hard manhood, jeans carelessly tossed aside so they're both naked, flushed against each other. The other brother pulls him in close for a deep, open-mouth kisses, tongues clashing and hands roaming each other's bodies simply to feel each other. Loki smirks and rolls his hips expertly, so the other brother's hardness brushes against his entrance, just as Thor likes whenever he has Loki pinned down underneath, and the other brother is gaping against Loki's pale neck.
"Don't," he growls, "tease me, brother."
"What was that? 'Tease me, brother'?" Loki rolls his sinuous body again, and again, and again.
The other brother sits up, breathing hard. He looks down at Loki, laying on the bed with legs spread open and black ink hair spilled on the white sheets.
"I love you."
"Of course you do," he replies.
He held a firm grip on Loki's manhood, thumbing the tip enough to make Loki sigh and grip the bed sheets lightly. "I love you so much."
Loki doesn't say anything, only tries to calm his breaths, chest rising and falling, so the other brother stops his ministrations, and lowers his hand—Loki immediately holds his breath when the other brother is quickly sucking his own fingers, soon bringing one down to trace the pink circle of Loki's entrace. Thor inhales as Loki hitches his breath, as though to drink in his brother's reaction, his emotions, everything that is Loki. Loki begins to shake, just barely enough for Thor to notice, when one finger is pushed in further and further until it's all the way to the knuckle.
"God, you're so tight," the other brother says, pulling his finger out just a bit before pushing back in, again and again.
"Oh, brother, stop," Loki nearly sobs. "I'm ready."
But his other brother only shakes his head, and enters another finger. "Tell me again, how you love me."
Loki bites on his knuckle but the other brother pushes his hand away. He has three fingers in Loki now, who's writhing, shaking, needing more.
"You dolt," he practically yells at his brother. "I already told you!"
He throws his arms around the other brother's neck, embracing the other brother's waist with his long legs, pulling him down for a kiss. Just as he told Thor, years ago, Loki whispers, "Never doubt that I love you."
His other brother pushes himself in, slow, until he's all the way in. Thor remembers Loki likes it best when Thor stops there and kisses him deep, and the other brother does just that, eliciting a beautiful moan from Loki. He sits back and grabs a hold of Loki's thighs, rubbing Loki's pale skin soothingly in circular motions with his thumb, thrusting into Loki slow and deep, leaving Loki to writhe and arch his back to push his other brother further in him. It's memorizing, watching Loki as he and the other brother are making love, but it all leaves Thor feeling empty, burning in his chest more than any of the others so far.
Thor doesn't pleasure himself, even though he admits he is so very aroused. No, he only continues to watch the DVDs—continues watching Loki moaning and writhing and being fucked over and over, continues to remember and doubt, and sinks it all in as slow as the sinking sun.
***
Hawkeye's hungry and knows there's - by some miracle - leftover pizza in the main kitchen, so he treks his way to the living room that leads to the kitchen when the sound of moaning stops him. He thinks, oh shit, it's Natasha's weird addiction, he should turn back. But he admits the moans sound kind of hot—maybe it's a girl with a (really) husky voice, maybe, and he still really wants pizza. If he stands there, he can hear some girly moans, too—some even sound like Natasha. He doesn't get how she can be that turned on by this stuff, but her presence calms him down. Seeing Loki and some other hairy dude getting it on, or no pizza?
He inhales deeply, puffing out his chest like a boss and stepping in—
"Oh fuck," both he and Loki say at the sight of Loki on the TV screen, sandwiched in between two guys humping him, and he's too slow to avoid the camera switching to a full view of two dicks pounding into a pale ass—Loki's ass—and he just turns around and bolts.
Until that is his mind finally registers that Natasha and Jan were sitting on the couch, making out with each other.
From the end of the hallway, he can hear Jan, "Aah, 'tasha, I feel so, oh—"
He runs back as fast as he can, and they're still making out, tongues and all, full breasts flushed against each other (but, unfortunately, fully clothes). He stands there, gaping, until Natasha stops and raises an eyebrow. Jan's breathing heavily, laying her head on Natasha's shoulder.
"So... uh..." Clint stands there awkwardly, trying not to look at the screen. "Mind if I join in?"
"What, like a threesome?" Jan asks, cocking her head with wide eyes to the side innocently.
"Hell yeah," he says without thinking.
Natasha and Jan exchange glances. The Russian's smile turns into a devilish smirk, wide and unrestrained, and Clint finds sweat rolling down his temple under her gaze.
"If you insist," she says, low and sexy, but she and Jan pull out two dildos practically from thin air, eyes darting between the TV screen and Clint.
"Wha—no, hey, that's not what I—"
"Hawkeye! Hey, come back!"
Janet's giggles and Clint's shouts echoes throughout the mansion as the two girls chase after Clint around the estate, but none of the other Avengers pays any mind. Most of them were too busy enjoying one hell of a show.