for halfassed

[dreamsofpoison]

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.

Comments

[halfassed]

No. He doesn't know how long he'll stay here, and it's probably better to even out the strain between shoulders and toes.

"No thanks." Sullen refusal.

[dreamsofpoison]

More laughter then Loki jumps down. He runs a hand down Clint's back until it comes to rest on the hem of his pants then slip between fabric and skin. He leans in closer and lets his other hand follow the line of his pants until it rests at Clint's crotch. There he gives the faintest of squeezes.

[halfassed]

Clint gives a little, aborted thrash. He can't really get Loki to take his hands away, but he can express his displeasure.

"Don't suppose you'd listen if I said hands off the family jewels."

[dreamsofpoison]

He gives a soft chuckle, nearly against his ear. He carefully starts to open Clint's pants, he goes slow, waiting for signs of protest. Of course, there should be protest, shouldn't there?

[halfassed]

Perhaps not as much as Loki might think.

Clint goes still, with Loki's hands that close. He remembers going to his knees for Loki, while everything felt so sharp and clear. Remember how Loki sighed in release.

"Loki," he growls.

[dreamsofpoison]

"My name is hardly a protest, Barton," Loki points out helpfully. He presses up behind him and rests his chin on his shoulder. His hands push his pants down from his hips, leaving him exposed but not touching him.

[halfassed]

He doesn't cooperate. Tensed thighs, trying to keep Loki from being able to pull the pants down. But he doesn't fight that hard, either.

"I'm not your slave," he says, tightly. "I'm not yours at all."

[dreamsofpoison]

"No?" sounding half like a question and half like agreement. He settles his hands on Clint's hips. "Then what are you?"

[halfassed]

"I'll get back to you."

He twists each of his wrists, testing the give of the bonds. They're very, very solid, and his cock is twitching, swelling under Loki's gaze.

This is not good.

[dreamsofpoison]

A little chuckle then, "I'm sure you will."

He tightly grips his hips and pulls him back into him. Though Loki is clothed, the beginnings of an erection can be felt. He let's go of his hips seconds later. He slides around him to stand in front him. He reaches a hand out to lift Clint's chin up.

"You have heart," he says in the exact same tone he used when he first said those words to him. "That is why I choose you."

[halfassed]

His body is in permanent strain, now, and it's starting to tire him. Not really tire him -- he won't be out of energy for a while yet. But he gets the feeling that this is going to hurt when he's finally let down.

"You never did tell me what that means." He doesn't want to know. He's saying the words as ... rote, or banter, or something. He doesn't want Loki to tell him. Because then it would become -- what was so wrong with me? What was broken enough that you thought I was easy prey?

[dreamsofpoison]

"No? It is rather obvious," he says mockingly. His hand lowers to rest on his chest then drift to rub his palm over a nipple.

"Devotion to your mission, Barton. Whatever that may be. You give yourself completely to it, every fiber of yourself. Should it fail, it was no failure of yours unless you want it to be," he explains. His other hand lightly tracing over his torso as he speaks.

[halfassed]

"And you, what, you saw this right away? Did I have it written on my forehead?"

He's irritated at a couple things about Loki's words. One is that, as things stand right now, they're pretty much true. He doesn't have anything else left but missions. Two is that Loki used that. He exploited Clint and made him a victim, and Clint hates that, with a deep, heart-pounding fury that he's never known before.

Third is that he's not sure he likes that quality about himself, anyway.

[dreamsofpoison]

"Your actions," he says, "and the scepter played a small role. It showed me who would be the most benefit. Oh, it wanted you." There's a disturbing hint in his voice that he isn't just talking about the scepter.

Speaking of wanting, he glances down between Clint's legs.

[halfassed]

"Not just because I was the most talented operative in the room?"

Maybe not entirely true. Loki did skip over Nick Fury, after all. Picked him instead. Fury's not as vulnerable.

Okay, now that's humiliating.

"It's just a physical reaction," he snaps. He doesn't even really believe that.

[dreamsofpoison]

"Is it?" he says in regards to the goings on between his legs. Choosing to completely ignore the first question. He has no need to explain anything further.

His hand lowers to stroke along his length. "Does this always happen when your captured? It must make your job very interesting," he says with smile.

[halfassed]

"When I'm captured, it's usually not --" Not people who touch him like this, not people who tease him, who treat him like -- god damn it, it's just not the same. "And my job's plenty interesting, th-anks." Little catch in his breath as Loki takes him in hand.

[dreamsofpoison]

"Oh? What is it usually?" he asks, conversationally. He slowly wraps his hand around his cock. He gives a little squeeze. "I could torture you," Loki suggests, "Would that be easier on your conscience?" He doesn't particularly want to torture him but he could.

[halfassed]

"No thanks." He's been tortured enough for a lifetime, and he's not too proud to admit that he doesn't want to go through it again.

He shifts his weight up to his arms again. His feet are starting to cramp. That's torture enough, really.

"By the way," he says, "that 'no thanks' extends to this, which the Geneva Convention would frown on."

[dreamsofpoison]

Something in Loki's face darkens. That was his whole problem right there. A problem he wouldn't exactly share with Barton but he would use him to fix it. That expression fades and his gaze tracks up.

"I could cut you down," he says next, not really an offer, just a statement. "Not yet, I don't think," he concludes and slides in behind him. His hand slides down between his ass cheeks and flicks a finger over his anus.

[halfassed]

"Ah!" He twitches away from it, because that's a spot that Loki should definitely not be touching. "Cut it out, Loki." Actually somewhat scared, now, of being penetrated. Isn't that stuff supposed to hurt?

[dreamsofpoison]

"I barely touched you," Loki says in amusement. His finger traces the spot but does nothing else. Keeping that hand in place, Loki moves back into view. He has a very eager, hungry grin on his face. He leans in close and traces his lips along one of Clint's straining arms.

[halfassed]

"Doesn't mean I don't know what you're thinking."

Damn, he wishes he could fight this. He wants to be able to thrash and struggle. But all he can do is just hold on.

"Haven't you been far enough inside my head?" he asks. "You gotta do this too?"

[dreamsofpoison]

A laugh. "Oh, I assure you, you have no idea what I'm thinking." The grin is back worse than before. He starts to sink down further, letting his lips settle on a nipple. He catches it between his teeth then lashes his tongue over it.

[halfassed]

Determined not to make a sound. Lip caught between his teeth, and he deliberately keeps his breath as steady as possible. He's an archer, he can do that. He's spent months just working on breath control.