Loki growled at the man standing in front of him. "I said kneel," he commanded, stepping a little bit closer to the wild-haired pale man. He was certainly giving the God of Mischief trouble.
"I said no," the detective replied. The two tall males had encountered one another in a dark London alley late that night. A soft mist had descended as the Asgardian found himself walking through the English underground in search of a nest of criminals he had contacted the other night for an element he needed for the machine. The only reason he had gone himself was to subjugate new men into his workers and Loki was the only one with that power. It wouldn't have been hard at all… until this Sherlock Holmes man had appeared in the alleyway, tracking down the same men Loki contacted. Sherlock growled a little bit, frowning.
"What does your heart say about that?" Loki almost purred, lifting his staff and knocking it against the arrogant man's chest lightly. He had come for business and decided that he would leave with at least a little bit of pleasure in his body. And the Midgard's lips would look absolutely fantastic wrapped around his cock. Yes, that seemed rather fitting. Using the sharp end of his big stick, the God lowered the great Sherlock Holmes to his knees. Against his will and fully aware of what was happening, the man sat on his knees somewhat comfortably, although that hard bit of plastic lodged into his shin, which wasn't pleasant in any form. Being the genius he was, Sherlock could already see Loki's growing pleasure against the leather coverlet . He smirked, knowing that if he willingly pleased this man, the supposed 'future ruler of Midgard' would allow him to go freely and back to his John. He scooted closer on his knees a little bit, running hands up Loki's legs and pushed aside the leather without having to be told twice. A hand carded through his curls and he mentally hoped John would understand that he needed to do this for their safety.
It took him a second to get through the god's complicated clothes, freeing the surprisingly long length. Sherlock's own was uninterested in what he was about to commit, uninterested as he ran his tongue along the underside of flesh, feeling a familiar hardness with the softness. Like iron under silk, like Loki's voice. He suckled on the tip, swiping his tongue along the sensitive ridge of nerves underneath. It was similar to a human's, which Sherlock subconsciously thanked whatever gods existed for. He swallowed a bit more, hearing Loki's strangled moan as the god leaned against the brick wall behind him. Sherlock repressed his gag reflex, closing his eyes and trying to lose himself, trying to think of the case instead of the man's shaft in his mouth. It was hard, nearly impossible, to ignore someone attempting to poke the back of your throat as the god lost himself to the mere detective mortal. Sherlock repressed a grin and a boost to his already large ego as he sucked harder, hollowing out his perfect cheeks to mold around the man's cock, covering his teeth with his lips for a better feeling. It was encouraged by Loki who's fingers tightened in Sherlock's curls, bobbing the mouth manually to reach his own completion. His vision went white and his back arched just slightly as he forced Sherlock's head all the way down so that his nose just touched the bottom of his stomach, pressing against the fabric of his still-on pants. The detective pulled away after the God's orgasm, coughing and spluttering from the bitter taste on his tongue. It was strong, and Sherlock preferred to spit. He was about to until Loki's hand came under his chin, forcing the debauched man to look up at the looming god.
"Swallow," he commanded in a dark voice, a grin coming to his face and his fingers, still holding his staff, stroked Sherlock's pretty neck, slipping underneath the scarf. "Don't you dare spit or I'll kill you."
It wasn't the killing threat that stopped him from spitting, but rather the unpleasant taste and the fact that he didn't want any of Loki's seed on his clothing. He made a noise of disgust and promptly swallowed, his nose scrunching up. "Now put me away," the God then commanded, softer this time and he let go of Sherlock. The mortal grudgingly obeyed commands, doing up Loki and standing.
"I'm going now," Sherlock said serenely, adjusting his scarf just slightly from where it had skewed. The god smiled.
"I'll be seeing you, Midgardian fool. You're less boring than the rest." Sherlock scoffed, turning heel and stalking away to search through 221B for some nice mouthwash. At least Loki wasn't as boring as most cases Lestrade had him running on.