dreamsofpoison | for halfassed

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for halfassed

Just how and why Loki was back on Earth was a mystery. There had been no communication from Thor any Asgardian representatives. It wasn't obvious that Loki was back, in fact, his presence could have gone unnoticed if not for, well, mischief.

He'd somehow taken something belonging to one Clint Barton. Something very dear to him. His bow. Said bow now sat on a mantel above the fireplace in his current residence. It was a stone and log cabin. Lodge would be a more appropriate description. Logs make up A frame structures to support the roof. They also provide an excellent place to suspend someone from. Which inevitably happened when Barton followed the little trail of bread crumbs to find his bow and ultimately, Loki.

He's suspended near the fireplace, which is lit. Turned so he can see his bow sitting there on the mantel. He's hung high enough his toes barely brush the ground and apparently Loki took great care in securing his wrists in a specific type of cuff. The kind that would ensure he could keep him there for quite some time without much damage to his hands or wrists. He was stripped of his weapons and all his clothes save for his pants. Hence why he choose the beam close to the fire. It was the dead of winter outside.

As for Loki himself, he stood by the window, watching the snow fall and waiting for the subtle signs his captive has awoken. He's far removed from the armor and leather of before. Instead he's in simple mortal clothes but they still had a certain Loki-esque flair to them.

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"What?" asking in honest surprise in his voice. Well, and maybe a desire to hear that again.

"Move closer to the fire," he says, shifting on to his side.

Well, he might as well own it.

"I said," he says, more firmly, as he moves to obey, "yes, sir."

Oh, that thrills along the tunnels in his brain carved by the scepter. He goes on his hands and knees, still on the blankets, the firelight's warmth all along the left half of his body.

Edited 2012-09-25 03:08 (UTC)

Loki watches in a mild sort of awe. Even knowing what the scepter left behind, this is willing. More willing than it would be under complete control.

"Lean forward on your arms," he says next, running a hand up his back to urge him into that position. His other hand brushes over his ass but does nothing. "Tell me when it hurts too much," he instructs next.

He already knows Clint hasn't done this before. So they will need something... then Loki gets an idea. "Look at what I'm doing," he says then lets a hand drift down between his own legs. He had gotten quite wet after all. He curls his fingers in himself to draw out as much of the wetness a he can. It may not be enough but he likes the sort of message it sends him. Once he thinks he has a good amount he brings his fingers to Clint's bared ass. He draws a slick finger over the hole then circles it. Satisfied enough wetness has been spread starts to push.

He goes down, resting his weight on the distance between elbow and wrist. His thighs spread apart, knees bent underneath him. He doesn't really consciously realize it, but it's further than most men could go. He is flexible, and very physically fit, and he's anxious. He wants to please, and he wants it to feel good.

As ordered, he looks back. He realizes what Loki is doing, and lets out a choked groan, his head dropping briefly to rest on his hands. Damn him. Damn him for turning this into a vulnerability for Clint -- damn him for taking Clint like a girl.

Damn Clint for getting on his knees like he was born to it.

The first finger feels weird. It isn't bad, but it isn't good, either. He's not sure what he's really supposed to get out of it, besides the turn-on of being the one to submit to another.

Loki moves his finger in a few short thrusts then slowly he works on adding another finger. He twists them once inside, working to stretch his muscles out and spreading what wetness he can. As he works his fingers he presses his thumb against his perineum.

"How does it feel?" he asks, choosing that moment to hook his fingers inside him.

His hips give an aborted thrust forward. His voice is strained, and the first time he tries to say something, it won't come out. Second try: "W-what was that." Loki, like -- he pinched or something, outside and inside Clint, and he felt it in his cock. What the hell.

That causes a grin to return to his face. Naturally, he does it again. "That?" he asks like he has no idea what he is talking about. "Does it hurt?" he asks in mock innocence. Really, Clint, he has no idea what you are talking about. He gives a few short thrusts with his fingers then scissors them.

Grunts forced out of him with every movement of those fingers. He's pretty sure he's leaking precum. Dripping it. He's also pretty sure that's never happened before.

Gathers enough breath to speak. "You know," oh Jesus, "exactly what, oh god, please, please do that again."

There's a soft laugh behind him. His touch softens, giving only enough pressure to tease. "You like this," he says, not a question. He leans forward enough his own erection brushes along the side of Clint's hip. "Do you want to know what it feels like?" he asks, giving a bit more pressure. "To learn just how much your body can actually take and still love it?"

This presses every button he knew he had and every button he didn't know he had. Yes. Yes, he wants Loki to push him to his limits, he wants to go there and back under a firm ruling hand. He knew he liked being ordered around, but this is an order of magnitude beyond that. He could give all of himself. He could be owned body and soul.

Wanted.

He has never needed something so bad, not in his entire life.

"Yes," he manages, then swallows. "Sir."

"This may hurt," Loki warns as he pulls his fingers free. With his other hand, spreads some of his own wetness over his length. Receptive as Clint is being, he's hoping they won't need much more than that.

He shifts into position, resting the head of his cock against him. "When I push, you must bear down, it will lessen the discomfort. Breathe," he says, smoothing a hand down his back. Slowly, he begins to push.

He doesn't really know what Loki means by bear down. But he finds that as the movement starts, it's not hard to figure it out. He can angle his body properly. He can focus on the lines of the two of them, the positioning, his visceral awareness of the space around him -- as he's being stretched so open that it burns. Breathing he does. He does it as calmly as he can. But he can't stop himself from making sounds, tiny movements as Loki does something uncomfortable or something pleasurable.

"Yeah," he says, strained. "That hurts." He's a little softer, but he's no less willing.

"Breathe," Loki instructs again. He continues his slow push inward, stopping now and then when he thinks its too painful. "Is it too much?" he asks in a tight voice, almost completely inside him now.

Loki himself is shivering under the strain. He wants to just thrust blindly but that would hurt for both of them if he didn't do it right. "Can you press into me?" he asks next.

He doesn't even answer, just drops his head and shifts his knees and does it. It's not too much. He can handle it. He's handled worse. Less intimate, but a hell of a lot worse.

He hisses in a harsh breath.

"God, you're deep."

Loki's breath leaves with a groan. "Let--" he has to clear his throat before his voice cracks, "Let yourself adjust." His hands run along his sides then rest at his hips.

"Tell me when you're ready."

"I'm ready. Sir." He's always ready. He can adjust on the fly. He always adjusts on the fly. So what if it hurts? It won't hurt in a minute.

Loki lets out an amused sigh. "Of course you are," he answers. He doesn't quite believe him but he doubts a little more pain now will scare him off if they ended up at this point.

So, he pulls back and gives a short firm thrust. He pauses only a second to see how he takes it. It's followed by others where Loki is trying to find the right angle. He doesn't have to make this feel good but it's in his benefit to do so. And, he simply likes it when he is responsible for making him feel a certain way.

His teeth are gritted. The friction's a little much, and at first he's just tolerating it. Still working out how to relax his body, how to avoid clenching every time Loki pushes in.

Except the angle shifts. And there's something -- there, and he just fucking melts under Loki's hands. Feels his cock thickening again, and he leans his forehead on his hands, panting.

"There. Stay like that," Loki says, his voice wavering toward the end. He tries to keep his new few thrusts at the right angle but it becomes increasingly difficult. It's so hot and so tight. He's having trouble holding back.

He pauses, nearly panting, and smooths a hand down Clint's back. He leans forward pressing his chest to his back. "Touch yourself," he breathes against his back, he ends it with a light kiss between his shoulder blades.

Loki's cock makes obscene sounds as it shoves inside him. And he can feel every inch of it. A violation, an invasion, a -- oh, fuck, and he groans at that command. He's on his knees with a cock in his ass and he's getting off on it so hard.

And it's Loki.

He palms himself, strokes like he likes it. Doesn't have the breath to say yes, sir.

Loki hisses out a breath through his teeth. His fingers dig into his skin as he raises back up. His thrusts are short and firm, the edge of teasing. He doesn't want to finish just yet and he would if buried himself completely.

"Very good," he praises, "Keep going."

He lets out a sound that he would definitely not describe as a whine, no sir, not him. His body is starting to shudder and tighten, moving closer to climax.

He pauses, on instinct.

"Sir," he breathes: a plea. He needs permission, doesn't he?

Loki feels a sudden rush of power when he realizes what that 'sir' means. That surge of power alone is almost enough to make him finish on the spot. But he holds back. He gives one deep thrust then leans forward to respond. "Look at you, about to spill with me buried deep inside you," he says in a hoarse whisper, it doesn't sound nearly as mocking as he intended. Intentionally not giving expressed permission.

He lets himself thrust fully for a few strokes, making a point to be vocal, he wants to be very sure he knows how much Loki is enjoying this. He digs his fingers into Clint's hips and delivers a series of hard and fast thrusts. Finally, with throaty moan he starts to come. He keeps himself pressed in tight to his back. "Now, come for me," he whispers then places a bite on his shoulder.

It gets hard to hold back. The rapid thrusts make him feel tight inside, like his climax might start somewhere in him, instead of at his dick. He didn't know that was possible.

And then Loki makes that noise, and Clint's fingers are digging in hard, trying to hold back.

His hand jerks to his cock when Loki gives the order, but it's completely unnecessary. He collapses, shooting hard into his palm, trying to take in the unusual sensation of coming with something so hard and deep inside him.

Loki rests on top of him for several moments. He lets out a slow hiss as he finally pulls out. He rolls on to the mattress next to him, his breathing still coming in pants.

That, he decides, was progress. Now if he can just keep Clint under this strange and new form of control. It occurs to him in the aftermath they don't have running water and the water they do have should not be used for a bath and he is not terribly interested in going outside to bring in snow to melt. It would take ages to get enough for a proper bath. Never mind that he didn't want to move that far right now. Eventually, he sits up and feels around for something clean up with and a bottle of water. He uses one side of the cloth on himself then hands it over. "Here. It isn't very warm I'm afraid."

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