The Bargain

Chapter 17: Seventeenth Installment

Seventeenth Installment: Loki the Avenger

Tony couldn't sleep. He hated it when he couldn't sleep. It happened too often for his liking, which was why he wasn't a morning person. Most of his sleeping happened between four and eleven a.m., so getting up early was painful.

Tomorrow morning, Loki wanted to talk to the Avengers. It was bothering him. What could the god want? And what about the little job Fury supposedly had for them? They'd had to do it without Loki, because the bastard kept vanishing off to places unknown.

But the icing on this fabulous cake was the desire. Tony had gone from wanting the bastard as far away as possible to wanting him to stick around to wanting to kiss him to wanting way more inappropriate things. Things that would probably get him killed for thinking them.

"Damn it, Loki," he hissed, frustration stirring in his gut.

"Mm, taking my name in vain?"

Tony shot up, reaching for the bedside lamp with a pounding heart. It flared with soft gold light at his touch, gently illuminating the room and its two occupants.

There was something different about Loki. His eyes were brighter than usual, his countenance darker. Shadows danced over his face, interesting and somehow alluring. He was here for a reason. He wanted something, it was plain.

But what he wanted . . . Tony swallowed and resisted the urge to pull the covers over his head. He's either here to kill me or turn me into a rat.

"Wha . . ." he cleared his throat and tried again. "Mind telling me what you're doing in my bedroom at . . . two in the fucking morning?"

Loki flowed out of the chair near the wardrobe, somehow looking like liquid shadows. "To give you what you've been not-so-subtly demanding for the last week," he said in a low, velvet tone.

It brought Tony up short. Whoa . . . what—? Bedroom voice? Then it clicked. It wasn't murder in those eyes, it was more like a darkly smoldering promise. Shit, really? He's gonna—? He swallowed again, this time for altogether different reasons. Instantly the temperature of the room seemed to rise by ten degrees.

"How did you get in here without alerting Jarvis?" he demanded.

"Easily," Loki said, looking amused. "We've been over this."

He stopped by the edge of the bed, and Tony decided it was really unfair he was already naked and Loki was wearing those damn snug jeans and dark sweater.

"Yeah, but I still don't like it when people sneak up on me," Tony grumbled, his body already moving. He reached up to grab Loki and pull him onto the bed.

Because he'd already established he was insane. Best go with the flow. Even if Loki's flow would probably lead straight to eternal damnation.

A soft laugh, then Tony blinked in confusion. He was somehow lying flat on his back, arms up over his head and unable to move them.

"What the fuck, princess?" he growled, tugging with all his strength.

Not a millimeter of give. "Keep your hands to yourself," Loki chided, looking plenty pleased with himself. "You started this, now you're going to give me what I want."

After that, Tony lost his mind. It was a peculiar feeling. Different from insanity. It felt like he'd been robbed of the ability to breathe, and every heaving breath was a conscious effort. When he didn't focus on it, his lungs simply stopped working.

Heat. Loki's body was far warmer than Tony had ever imagined. Skin. His skin was even smoother than Tony had dreamed. Moisture. Perspiration made them slide together with slick ease. Faint, pleased gasps from Loki. He wasn't loud. Tony knew he wouldn't be loud. He was almost silent, and Tony found himself literally aching to hear him moan.