Quick note on this first and second chapters - contains non/con. If that is not your cup of tea, please don't read further! This will not be a story of constant non/con but it will be a returning theme.
Disclaimer - as much as it pains me, I do not own the Avengers!
Three months after the Chitauri attack on New York and things were changing for Tony Stark. He wished they weren't. To start with, as the most recognisable faces of the Avengers (or, at least, the most recognisable able to string a sentence together, sorry Hulk) Steve and Tony were wheeled out to do press and publicity. That meant a lot of media, a lot of politics and a lot of drinking at parties.
Hey, the drinking he didn't mind. The drinking was good, but Tony Stark didn't do politics. But playing the media he knew. The damage done to the city had spilt public opinion and it was up to Capsicle and yours truly to get everyone on side with the idea that a band of mighty superheroes saving the day wearing unseemly amounts of lycra was something we could all get down with.
Then there was the arc reactor, which was finally kicking off in a big way. One was being built in Calcutta. That was big news. If it could work in India, heading off India's major use of fossil fuels before it could do as much damage as the western world had, that was something to drink to.
Everything was something to drink to. Thor's back from Asgard? Great! Let's have a drink. Stark Tower rebuilt? Break open the Jack Daniels. Hey, the mail arrived – I'll drink to that.
Perhaps the excessive drinking had been caused by this cold bed that had crept up on him. Just reached over one morning and there it was. A cold bed. Hardly seems fair, really. But she had her reasons. Stupid reasons, but there you go. And watching someone you love fly to his certain death (carrying a nuclear warhead which, come on, should have earned him some major cool points) wasn't something any girl wanted to write home to her mother about. Tony had pointed out that he had tried to ring her. It didn't seem to help.
So, needless to say, there was a lot on his mind. In the months to come, Tony would use that as the reason why he managed to walk out of the lift, across the floor and up to the bar in Stark Tower without noticing the tall figure of the whack-job God of Mischief. After all, it's not like he's got spidy-senses or anything.
"Perhaps you could pour me one?" said a smooth voice from behind him.
Tony paused, the tumbler against his lips, then drained the glass in one gulp. "I just got that window repaired," he muttered bitterly.
He refilled his glass and then filled another. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're supposed to be in a cell in Asgard." Tony turned. Other than the fact that it was half past midnight this time, he was having a wicked case of déjà vu. Loki, all over again. Same clothes, same posture, same stupid smirk on his pale face. "You do remember how we thoroughly kicked your ass last time, right?"
"A minor setback."
Tony chuckled without any humour. "You could say."
He walked down the steps and handed the glass to Loki. He forced himself to stay calm, but his mind was whirring. How long had it been? How long had he been here? Jarvis was programmed now to alert the Avengers HQ if this ever happened. So where are the guys? Get Natasha down here, she'll kick his pale-
"You seem distracted," Loki said.
"A lot on my mind," Tony said easily, his outward persona of genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist ever there to take over when his mind was churning. "So, what's up next? An army of flying monkeys?"
Loki smiled, seemly placidly as he sipped the whiskey.
"Or maybe you should stay away from the whole army thing in general. Doesn't seem to work for you."
"As amusing as this is, Tony Stark, perhaps we can actually get started on the main event of the evening? I was here for some time before you arrived and did some modifications to your voice in the walls. Your Avengers will not be coming to save you."
Tony finished his glass. "Another?"
He turned away, back to the bar and felt his eyes close in a half shudder. So, as always, survival came down to Tony Stark and his wits alone. Probably shouldn't be downing half a bottle of whiskey then, but he usually did his best work drunk.
"Pity, I'm sure your brother would have loved to have been here."
"Oh I'm sure dear Odin's son will arrive later. I'll be gone, but I'll leave him a gift."
Why was Tony sure that Thor's gift was going to be the mangled remains of a pickled billionaire? He drained his glass again. "Well, I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate the thought."
"And so you grasp the point."
"Yeah but why? Your entire reason for living seems to be to tweak Thor. Don't you have anything better to do than hanging out here on a Friday night?"
Loki's attention seemed to have travelled from Tony to the expansive window next to him. His eyes wandered the horizon as he took another few sips.
Tony was a tad annoyed. Even when it was a psycho murder here to kill him, he was Tony Stark and used to being the centre of attention. Even at his own murder. "Please, don't let me keep you if you're busy or anything."
Loki downed the last of his drink. "Are you not going to attempt to summon your suit?"
That was Tony's first moment of real agony. "No," he grumbled. "Ran into a few kinks I couldn't straighten out. It's down in the workshop in a hundred pieces."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Tony muttered. But this asshole was supposed to be rotting in a jail cell – or whatever Asgard had up there. Not stalking round his tower like a pissed off panther.
No Jarvis. No suit. No Avengers. Tony's options were looking bleak.
"Finish your drink, Tony."
With speed that made Tony's head hurt, Loki had crossed the distance between them and lifted Tony up by his neck, throwing him into a wall. Tony scrabbled to get back on his feet, trying to think of a witty remark. It was a waste of effort. The minute he had managed it with some great effort, Loki had thrown him against another wall.
Glass smashed around him, showering down. He covered his face quickly, but felt a cut open up on his forehead. Blood was running down his face, stinging his left eye. He wiped it away in a daze before he was picked up and thrown again. This time, Tony just lay there. Pain radiated across his body, the impact must have smashed a rib or something because it was becoming difficult to breathe.
Tony turned over onto his side as Loki approached. With little to no energy left, he shouldn't waste his time with scathing remarks. "This would be the time for your super villain monologue," he muttered in a croaky voice.
Well, he was Tony Stark.
Instead, Loki kicked him full in the chest. Tony yelled in pain, but that was quickly overcome with a blinding fear as his arc reactor flickered warningly. Apparently intrigued, Loki reached down and tore his shirt open. In a second his hand was turning the blue cylinder of light in his chest, and then pulled.
"No," Tony gasped. He was already calculating how long he had. But that familiar constricting in his chest, pulsing head, blurring vision… he knew he had seconds. "Please."
"Please? What is this, Tony Stark? You beg? The Man of Iron, reduced to a whiny, mewling creature?"
Tony's hand reached out and grabbed Loki's ankle. Loki's foot came down hard on it and Tony screamed. Pain lanced through his arm. Yeah, that hand was definitely broken. Loki picked up him by the hair and dragged him along the floor. Tony only realised were they were going when he was thrown down on the bed. His bed.
Loki straddled him and pushed the arc reactor back in. Tony gasped and spluttered, trying to regain some control. Caution be fucked. Tony threw a fist at Loki's face. Loki avoided it easily and punched him in the head. The blow was almost enough to knock Tony unconscious; it felt like it had been delivered with an iron bar.
As images of his own death filled the inner theatre of his mind, he turned his head away and closed his eyes. Then...
Why is it that some things are worse than death? You'd think, in the annals of things you don't want to happen, death is pretty much up there. Right?
Loki's hand was petting him, tangling his fingers in his hair and tugging playfully. Tony couldn't believe it. Blood loss, concussion, delirium… anything that would make this was just some sort of delusion. Hell, he'd even take 'and it was all a dream'. Pretty weird dream. Just please, don't make this reality.
Loki's mouth encircled his ear in a hot and wet heat. He chuckled gently at Tony's shudder. Then his lips were tracing down his jaw bone, down his neck, following the sensitive skin of the artery. Then the smiling face of the damn god appeared above him, before dipping back to repeat the same process on the other ear.
"So silent. Can I take it you're enjoying our little game?" said the whispered voice.
That seemed to wake Tony up. He struggled against the lean figure holding him down but it was useless. All it gained him was a couple more blows to the head.
Loki waited until Tony had gone still once more before resuming his busy work. The god reached over and pulled a bottle out from under the bed. There were bottles all around the tower; Tony was only amazed that this one was still half full. Loki examined the label minutely, giving Tony time to consider his rapidly diminishing future, the asshole, before pouring it over the playboy's face. The pain was sharp, turning to throbbing as the alcohol poured into every cut. Loki used a corner of the bedspread to wipe Tony's face clean of blood and vodka.
"Fucker," Tony spat.
"All in good time, my dear."
Tony didn't know what about that scared him more. The implication or the dear. Loki's hands where undoing the fastening's on his trousers. Okay. That was probably more scary than the dear.
Tony closed his eyes tight. "Why are you doing this?" he asked with effort. Keep the bastard talking, it was the only thing he could think of at this point.
Loki's fingers ran through his hair again, stroking him, petting him like a cat. "I am not blind to my own weakness, Tony Stark. To want what I cannot have..."
Tony's mind flashed back to the moment his arc reactor stopped Loki from mind washing, or indoctrinating, him or whatever the fuck it was.
The fingers tightened and pulled his head up to face him. The strain it put on his neck was almost worse than the pain already radiating through his body. Almost.
"There is nothing in the Nine Realms that I want more," Loki whispered in his ear, "than what I shouldn't."
It was perhaps then that Tony realized just how much crazy he was actually dealing with. The knowledge deflated him somewhat. Against the insane, there is no defence. Time to play dead. Let this fucker have his games, and then next time, Tony would tear him apart.
As Loki's teeth bit down hard on the Tony's neck, reminding him of the absolute strength, power and control of the man kneeling on his chest, Tony found himself mentally adding to his rant, 'if there is a next time...'
Tony's eyes flickered down. So far he had achieved not to with great effort. But now he saw Loki's cock, already hard, and shuddered again. There were many jokes to be had in this situation, along the lines of god-like proportions. None of them seemed funny at this point. Tony had a horrific idea he knew how this evening was going to go and right now jokes about size were not funny.
He looked up at Loki and found the man was sneering at him. Loki's tapped his jaw mischievously. "Open wide now," Loki murmured.
Tony's head was pulled back violently and as he yelled in pain, the long, hard cock was pushed between his lips. Then Loki paused. That pissed Tony off. He wanted this to be over with so he could go get really, really drunk. Why couldn't the bastard just get this over with?
The cock was just resting on his tongue, flexing slightly, as Loki just closed his eyes and enjoyed the wet warmth. Tony took the pause to ready himself. He fought with all his will power not to bite the thing off. Somehow, he didn't rate that highly in his choices to survive this encounter.
Maybe the bastard knew, maybe he didn't, but it wasn't Tony's first time with a man. It wasn't necessarily his first preference, but hey; when you're high and drunk, you're high and drunk. And you'll have sex with anyone. But Tony liked a certain measure of control in the bedroom – nothing kinky, but the gentleness and softness of his women had always been more preferable to him. Their gentleness, like Pepper…
Loki started thrusting, slowly at first, almost allowing Tony to gauge the weight and power. Then apparently bored of the gentle approach, began thrusting so hard Tony feared the Asgardian would either knock out his teeth or choke him to death. Tony tried hard to relax; this is not the way he wanted to die. Just think of his tombstone, what in the name of fuck would you write on it?
Thankfully, Loki's moment of triumph over the Iron Man seemed to excite him far more than any skill Tony might have at blowjobs and his climax came mercifully quickly. Tony spluttered and gagged on the stream pouring into his mouth. When Loki pulled out with a sigh, Tony turned his head to spit. A hand clamped down over his mouth.
"Dare you refuse a gift from your god? Swallow."
Tony glared at Loki. No way in hell.
Loki reached down and grasped Tony's broken wrist. Tony screamed. As Loki began to twist, he threw his pride to the winds and swallowed. Loki immediately released his jaw, but not his wrist.