[Tony’s always had the habit of pushing what he needs away and pulling what’s worst for him closer. Now, he’s doing it quite literally; palms sliding down clothed shoulders, strong thighs wrapped around that narrow waist to hold himself there.]
Unfortunately, this is a bit of a quick dinner. Maybe I’ll remember the hors d’oeurves next time.
[A shudder follows that statement at the feather-like caress of lips against sensitive skin, and one of Tony’s hands moves under Loki’s chin to tip it up gently.]
You shouldn’t do that. [Those words are murmured against alabaster skin as his own lips, warm against cold, start to kiss down that chin adoringly.]
[Loki hums something of a sweet laugh, dancing along lazily exhaled breaths, as he lets his head fall back, somewhat.] I shouldn’t do what? [The vibrations of his voice cause his throat to shiver under Tony’s caressing.]
[In truth, he cared not for the food. Although he adored his lover for being so sweet and making it, he adored his lover for a great deal many other things. Things, which he found more important. Not important enough, however, for him to call off his aim. His goal.]
I merely sit, as you do things you shouldn’t do.
[He’s being cheeky, now. It’s not public news of their relationship, and it is something Tony shouldn’t be doing. There’s a familiar smirk on his lips, as a hand drops, momentarily groping him for effect.]
This is as dark as the room would get with his arc reactor, which shines brightly, especially when he yanks off his shirt. The dark makes his movements haphazard, because he wants to get on the bed and simply relax. His entire body is deeply sore, eyes burning, skin clammy and feverish. Maybe he’s getting ill, but he knows it’s from sleep deprivation, from sleep that will never come the right way.
Once his socks are yanked off, he crawls back onto the bed, letting Loki pull his head down, resting his cheek against Loki’s leg. He sighs when he feels Loki’s fingers in his hair because that’s his greatest weakness, ever. His eyes are already drooping against his will.
“Cheater,” he teases, hugging Loki’s legs to him, exhaling softly against his skin. He’s grateful that most of his upper half is covered by the blanket because his scars are hideously pronounced in the cyan light of his reactor in the dark and he’d rather not have to look at them—he’d rather Loki not look at them either, honestly, even after all their time together.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable.”
Twice, now, had Loki considered the prospect of gifting the man with another scar; perhaps small, perhaps scarcely even noticeable; as he lay waste to slumber. He knew it wouldn’t be much of a change, but to Tony, he knew, when noticed; it may help along the process. He wanted to see how far a mind could go, before it tipped over the edge; and when the culprit is ‘one penny short of a pound’ himself, what could possibly go wrong?
He hums softly, the sound barely even there, as he cradles the other man supportively, every action soothing and relaxing. Very faint, blue light; similar to that of Tony’s arc reactor, though not wholly so; more a chalky, true blue, oppose to the brilliant cyan; began to shimmer at his fingertips; through no meaning of his own; though occurring anyhow.
“I rarely sleep, anyhow,” he explained. “I am a God. Immortal creatures need sleep not.”
“But you, however,” Loki leaned forward a little, so his face was somewhat close to Tony’s, though not too much so. “Rarely sleep either way. Why is that?”
All the more knowledge to learn of, all the better to help his understanding. He had to know Stark. He had to know him off by heart.
Tony lets out an embarrassing shriek that he’ll deny he ever made, immediately turning around to punch whatever made the noise in the face.
But it’s only Loki.
“You… you little shit,” he said, hand over his chest as he gave the other a dirty look. “If you’re trying to kill me with a heart attack, you’ve definitely succeeded."
[[AWYISSS //FAECTOUCHHH ALSO DAT ICON OK DAT ICON
I MISS YOU AND ALL OUR CAPITAL LETTER TALK OK]]
Oh, he’s laughing with affectionate maliciousness, now, and he can’t help it; doubling over to allow for it. He knows, then, that he’s put that wonderful little screech down to memory, and promises to himself he’ll never let Tony forget it.
“You screamed like a startled frost wurm,” the God manages, thoroughly amused. “And it was adorable, pet, it was adorable.”
“-…
… that doesn’t make any linear sense.”
“That there’s two of us and only one helmet? Nonsense indeed.”
"But of course. Whatever fate decided that you were to wear it, however, is what I have my issues with.”
“Oh you know, love of your life. Favorite mortal. The girl you gave a bath too that one time.”
“Darcy. My sweet.
And I hope I find the love of my life in even sweeter spirits than how she appears.”
Admittedly, the God is somewhat surprised, when a gaze so emerald finds itself faced with this such Angelic creature; and yes, he recalls it now. They have met before. If anything, he’s a little entertained by the prospect of their meeting. And if he’s forgotten anything about Loki in this time, then it can simply be reminded of, with that such devilish smirk, he sends directly his way.
“I didn’t expect to see you so very soon after our first meeting, Gabriel.”
✦; “—…” Oh, holy crap. Where’s he come from? Who even was he? Wait, wait—Dani, focus. Whoever this weirdo is (who thinks Halloween is today, apparently) he’s hurt. “You okay?“
A fast whirl to his side indotes a few obvious irritating factors toward the situation he may have now sparked, and, near inaudibly to most, he mutters a number of healing chants to give him the ability to stand upright. "I will live, yes.”
