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#13 - Lovers

#13 - Lovers

After Loki went public, Coulson rang him up and lectured him about dangerous ENEs, friends and family as targets, do not engage, come straight to us, blah bitty blah. As Farley listened to his no-nonsense-just-the-facts-sir voice, he remembered being pulled closer to ward off bleak alien winds though all the windows were shut tight, how of course he always had to sit like that, sea grey eyes fey with need as he rocked teasingly against him.

A couple days later, he paid a little visit to Avengers HQ. Oh happy too-obviously-good-to-be-true coincidence, Loki managed to come up, and everyone had their share of scars.

Tony was in his usual form, cracking about helmet hair and following with the usual "compensating" gag (so many easy responses to that, but he only smiled.)

The mundies (as if anyone could call Romanov or Barton that and keep their legs) bitched about how they couldn't get within a mile of even bruising him, while the Boy Scout had gotten too much so - monologued briefly about how he tried to kick him off a roof back in Where in the Hell, Seattle.

Selvig was happily MIA - thank God - and so was Jane (likewise), but Darcy wasn't, and he laughed through the fates of her last five tasers, either changed into mice or grapefruits or swiped from her hands from halfway across the room.

Thor, well... the idea of an inside man called to him like coffee after a long night of work or pale skin against cotton sheets... But he wasn't ready to deal with the fallout of the inadequacies and neuroses and No, Lokis (Wise Allfather, my Mad ass...) It was painful enough playing audience to Odin and Thor and Laufrey and everything tearing Loki apart - seeing that and knowing you were to blame, even if you didn't mean it...

He wondered what they'd think if even one of them could read his thoughts (tugging Loki's head back gently - or not so much - to lap at his pulse, legs wrapping tight around his back, pulling him closer even as he ratcheted the cuffs shut.) Screwing their first Big Bad sure as hell wasn't gonna net him any points, especially the one he was supposed to be not engaging, let alone (fucksotighthardernoharderAHthatpleasedon'tstop).

On the other hand, the feeling was mutual. He liked Tony and Natasha and Thor and the gang, but the Avengers? Not so much. Not yet.

He toyed with his watch, sneakers brushing against the spelled hiking pack by his seat. What was the point of going to all this trouble if the bastard wasn't gonna-

Lips on his throat, the slipperyroughwarmth enough to make the earth move - no, wait, that was just the generator.

At least Tony didn't push him to the side or order him out of the room. Didn't do him too much good when Loki pitched him out of the window, but the thought was nice, really.

"Right," he deadpanned as he fell out of sight, wand still trained on him, "now go catch him."

"Pity - I'd thought you were joking about-" A silver-red-blonde-blur zooms past the window. "Oh, never mind. There goes my dear brother..."

"You don't sound too worried..."

Loki smiled. "Says the powerful mage who's just been left alone with me. Quite careless, really..." He moved closer, the shift and roll of his hips speaking volumes, and the sinister now I have you, my pretty gaze fading, leaving only the familiar I know you know gleam.

And, oh, he knew.

How had Mitchell put it? 'As if he knows what I look like without my shimmy'?

That was nothing compared to this. Loki's gaze stripped away skin, flesh, blood, and bone, leaving mind and soul - and power, couldn't forget that - open to the knowing gaze of the Liesmith.

It'd be infuriating - possibly even terrifying - if it wasn't such a turn on.

"The best of Earth's heroes," he purred, coming to a stop before him, "and yet one and all blind..."

Farley looked him over, heavy-lidded eyes boring into him as he remembered. The whole time, the God of Mischief's lover - slave to his lust, master of his heart - walked in these halls, and no one even knew.

"Yeah - as a bunch of superpowered bats..."

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