dreamsofpoison | for halfassed

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Grumbles something about sloppy seconds, but he takes it, and wipes his ass with a look on his face like is this really fucking happening to me. And then he moves to his feet, and goes out of the living room. Creak of the door, and then a slam. Yep, he tossed it out into the snow. Because he does not want to deal with it right now.

And then he comes back, and slides under the mattress, shivering from the chill.

For maybe a half second, Loki thinks Clint might have just walked outside for some ungodly reason. Realizing what he actually did makes him laugh.

When he returns Loki tries to push him closer to the fire. "Were we not supposed to be conserving heat? You should not have gone to the door without clothing of some kind," he says. Loki does at least have some body heat now that he's mortal, not much but some. So he tries to press in against him to share what he has.

He relents to Loki's touch, but he's shaking. A tight shudder, and then another, and then something like a sob. He's breaking down. This is it. And the only person here to put him together is Loki. The only person he thinks can put him together is Loki.

Well, this is a new one on Loki. People he sleeps generally don't break down right after. Then again, he generally doesn't stick around long enough to find out and comforting isn't exactly something he's good at unless its to twist the knife in deeper. The one thing he can do is tighten his arms around him.

"What is it?"

"I don't know... who the hell I am."

He needs the comfort. He's never felt a need this big before. Maybe this is his heterosexual freak-out. Or his maybe-I'm-not-actually-a-good-guy freak-out. Either way, it's a freak-out.

He twists around, and settles himself into Loki's arms, burying his face in the curve where Loki's neck meets his shoulder.

"I don't know what I need to be." He just doesn't want to be left behind again. He can't be left behind. And SHIELD will leave him behind if they know about these blazing paths in his mind, about how he lets Loki touch him and he likes it.

"You are mine," Loki utters like the answer is the most obvious thing on the planet. Strangely enough, he does understand this sort of identity crisis intimately, though understanding and helping are two different things.

He shifts to hold him tighter then adds, "My hawk. My solider." In the back of his mind he adds 'my general' because oh Clint would make an excellent general if Loki could have an army again.

Loki wants him, and Loki accepts him, and Clint doesn't know which is easier: to sever all of his connections with Loki, or to just let himself fall to darkness.

He breathes in Loki's smell. And if he hadn't been exhausted so soon, he would have stirred again -- he's way more into Loki than he always expects. His hand drifts to Loki's abdomen, and flattens hesitantly over the skin there. If there was a child, he's not sure he could ever leave.

An idea forms in Loki's mind. If it wasn't certain he was carrying before he'll make sure before they leave. It's not one of his proudest manipulations and makes him feel strangely inadequate. The silver tongued Loki couldn't get what he wanted without being pregnant. Just like a--No, he pushes those thoughts back. Not important. This is to survive. He must do everything he can to keep himself alive so he might regain what is his. One day.

That bit of inner turmoil is only reflected by an uneasy sigh. "I will tell SHIELD as much or as little as you like," he says in a low voice.

If he betrays SHIELD, he just wants it to be once. Once, a clean break, snap it all off, his loyalties are gone and here's someone else. He doesn't want any fuzzy period in which he's not even sure himself who he prefers.

Unfortunately, he's right in the middle of that fuzzy period.

Clint snorts. "Is that because you want a double agent," he says, "or because you actually give a damn?" He can't even lift his head. He aches, inside. And he wants Loki to fuck him again. Again, and again, until he's exhausted.

Loki sighs against him. He could have done without the return question because he fears it might be a mixture of both.

"Fury will not make the same mistakes again. He may suspect you on circumstance."

"Just answer the god damn question."

"Both," Loki relents. While that is the truth, he faintly hopes Clint will take it as him being further evasive. Sometimes the truth is best hidden in plain sight.

No such luck. He knows the weight of truth when he sees it.

And, honestly, he's a little reassured that Loki told him the truth at all.

"Yeah," he rasps. "I thought so." He can't even really fault Loki for it. Who wouldn't want a double agent in SHIELD?

He can't have everything it seems. Well, no reason to dwell on it. "We will need more firewood," he says changing the subject.

"I'm not going." Not right now. He needs some time to recover.

Loki gives his most dramatic put on sigh and gets up. He finds some clothes to pull on, more to keep him from turning blue than warmth. Other layers are only added to deal with the snow. He does feel the need for warm places, he wonders if that's Odin's doing or... No, no. Not thinking about that.

Now, there must be an axe somewhere. Oh this would be so much easier with Tho-- All right, he really must stop letting his mind wander. He finds an axe. "We need far more wood than one of us can gather. I will fell the trees. Follow my tracks when you're able."

Clint falls straight asleep. On Loki's side, where it smells of him, where there are still some vague traces of warmth.

He's probably not going to wake up for several hours.

It works out as Loki is gone several hours. He may be stripped of powers and mortal but he still weathers the cold extremely well. The hunt for wood took him a distance. A living tree would make poor fire wood to he searched out dead and dying. He found it strangely soothing, whether he admits to the sentiment or not, it reminds him of times spent hunting as boy.

He only felled mid-size trees he could move on his own. He drags two back to the cabin before setting about chopping them into usable chunks. They'll still need more. It's only when he realizes he's exhausted does he stop, return inside and plunk an arm full of wood on the floor.

Edited 2012-10-04 04:39 (UTC)

And Clint startles himself awake.

Oh, ew. He's slept too long. His brain feels a little too big for his skull.

"Welcome back," he mutters, blinking.

"More outside," he says in regards to the wood. He actually sounds exhausted. His eyes move to the fireplace to see if there is anything left or if it has gone out.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject