Loki (
dreamsofpoison) wrote2012-08-21 07:31 pm
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.
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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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"Fury will not make the same mistakes again. He may suspect you on circumstance."
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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?
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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."
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He's probably not going to wake up for several hours.
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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.
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Oh, ew. He's slept too long. His brain feels a little too big for his skull.
"Welcome back," he mutters, blinking.
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Clint levers himself out of bed, and reaches for his clothes. He shivers as he dresses, but he's obedient; he'll go out, and he'll get the wood.
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Next up, food. He doesn't want to wait for the fire to catch again so he digs up a powerbar... thing. He gives it a funny look but eats it. Despite what some might think, Loki is fully capable of putting aside his pride to survive. Especially if it's for a greater goal. Gathering wood, of course, wasn't an entirely selfless act.
"Are you sore?" Loki asks a few minutes later when Clint has brought more wood in.
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And even then he'll avoid Loki's gaze.
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"What," says Clint, "you like what you see?"
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He's already retreated back under the blankets actually feeling cold for once. He's still resistant but he can feel it.
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"If you let me," he adds about the fucking. He's too exhausted right now to do much of the work in that regard.
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He settles on top of the blanket, and brushes Loki's hair back from his forehead. His hand hesitates briefly in the air, like he's afraid he'll get burned. But he touches the cool sweat, warms Loki's cold skin.
"Thanks for the wood," he says. "I mean, the kind that you burn. Not the kind that happens in your pants."
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