Love, 2/5. NC-17
Title: Love
Series: #21 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved, #18 - Release, #19 - Never Noticed, #20 - How You Live And Breathe)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky, Clint/Darcy
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse. Warning for mentions of suicide.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: There are many different ways to express emotion, affection and love. There are just as many different ways to protect others.
Prior chapter:
One - New Faces
Two - Bad Days
Loki crashed into the "office" of his suite, ripping through texts and scrolls that he had, looking for any mentions of something that could entirely devour someone's spá. Something like that had to be impossible.
Natasha followed him in, obviously worried about him, but he couldn't think of that now. If he did, if he stopped to think, then his agitation would grow into outright fear. What if that creature ever came after her? The very thought of her death sent him into paroxysms of pain and loathing. Would he slit his own throat to follow her into death? Or would he try to storm the gates of Helheim to get her back? Could he even do it if he tried?
He didn't know, couldn't know, and it was best not to even try.
"Something weird happened," James observed.
"Dead. Dead-dead, nothing left, not even microbial life." Loki spoke without looking up, not taking his eyes off the text he was trying to skim through. He dropped it and reached for another one, using a thread of magic to bring another scroll closer. He muttered under his breath in Allspeak, ignoring the look that passed between Natasha and James. There had to be some kind of creature that could do this. A nightmare, a child's story, perhaps. There had to be something, because for this to spontaneously happen to two people he had known, however distantly it might be-
"What if there are more, then?" Natasha asked, agile mind working. "Two dead bodies like that, both of whom you knew as magic users..."
Loki continued to mutter, so Natasha was the one to call out overhead for Jarvis to begin cross referencing odd deaths and "suicides" of people known to use or play at magic.
"Just in the United States? Or throughout the world?" Jarvis asked.
His head jerked up in surprise. "Why? Are there other deaths? It's not a local phenomena?"
"It may not be," Natasha said quietly. "You started your takeover here five years ago, but there were global steps taken to protect against threats like you afterward."
He hadn't known that. It didn't stroke his ego now that he was exiled here.
"Global, then," James decided. "And we'd better talk to the magic users out there that you know of. If someone or something is hunting them down? They need to know."
"I need to find out what did this. It isn't an ordinary spell," Loki said.
"And this room is a mess," Natasha said, looking around. Her expression clearly stated that she had no idea what his organizational style was and she didn't care to find out. "You have an apprentice. Isn't this the kind of thing that they're for?"
"I have her practicing the seidr and giving substance to the spells she creates. She might not be ready for magicks such as these," Loki replied tartly.
"How do you know until you try?" she asked pointedly.
He sighed and threw the book in his hands across the room. "I haven't the temperament for this! I can't be a teacher. What was Frigga thinking?"
"That you need to learn patience," Natasha guessed. "And she could use your expertise."
Loki snorted. "Don't try to make me feel better."
She tolled her eyes at him. "Making you feel better would be initiating an extra session, not telling you to grow the fuck up and do the things you said you would."
He ignored the second part of her statement and looked at her eagerly. "Would you add another session for me? I'd like that."
Natasha threw up her hands. "Don't you know you can just ask by now? You don't have to be a little shit or worry yourself to death first."
"I'll have you know I'm not being either at the moment," Loki told her in a huffy tone of voice. "I do have concern of some creature draining magical energies, and that is entirely legitimate and appropriate. I just happen to like your sessions."
"Tonight, then. Eight o'clock," Natasha said with a shrug. She looked over at James, who gave a slight nod that he would be there as well.
Well, then. Something pleasant to look forward to. After she left, Loki went through his books with far more care. He still didn't find anything useful.
***
Loki knelt on the bedroom floor of the Astoria apartment, a black silk blindfold wrapped around his eyes, his hands bound behind him with the black chains. No shirt had been allowed, and he had to kneel with his knees slightly apart to keep his balance. He could feel the stretch in the heavy fabric over his thighs, the feel of his boots against his rear. There was the rustling of fabric somewhere near him, a soft susurrus that he couldn't identify. Was she undressing? Changing? Getting James ready for something?
By the Roots, would she make him service James? Fear and dread anticipation flooded through him at the thought, and he couldn't tell which was the stronger emotion. James wouldn't hurt him, not deliberately, anyway, and Natasha wouldn't allow permanent damage.
But oh, he was awful, awful. He was nothing, there was nothing, he needed to be ground down to dust and rebuilt again. Each time Natasha took him apart, she put him back together cleaner than when she found him. How she managed that trick, he had no idea. But she did it, he could hum with desire instead of anger, he didn't want to raze entire realms to ash.
Then her fingers were combing through his hair, soft and wavy as she liked it, nails scraping lightly across his scalp. A shiver worked its way down his spine, and Loki wondered if she was smiling in response. He responded to her, a finely tuned instrument, an object to work to her desires, a tool to use however she saw fit.
Oh, please, let her see fit. Let her want me...
Music began to play, a soothing jazzy tune that Loki wasn't familiar with. He could hear the slight clink and hiss of James' mechanical arm, wondered if he was starting to dance in time to the beat. It had to be his kind of music. Natasha liked classical music to soothe her when she was overwhelmed, and otherwise listened to an array of popular styles.
Her fingers dipped down to the nape of his neck, and it sent another shiver down his spine and arms. He bowed his head, giving her better access, and was rewarded with a kiss to the nape of his neck. There were no words, just the faint touches and press of her fingers, running her nails down his skin, nudges to get him into the position she wanted. Ultimately, his arms were still bound behind him, but he was bent over his knees, his forehead close to touching the floor, his body twisted in complete subservience.
Natasha licked down his spine, then pulled away from him. "Wait there," she said in a husky tone, as if he could do anything else.
Then he heard weight sinking down onto the bed, a soft sliding sound, then kissing. He wanted to choke; Natasha was kissing James on the bed, they were going to have sex while he waited there, bent in half and aching for her, make him sob in desperation, make him want any depraved thing she would ask of him, just to touch her, be touched by her, just be near her-
All he heard was kissing, hitched breathing as desire took hold. Nothing more salacious than that, not when he knew they could be rather... acrobatic. And noisy. And messy, with clothes strewn all around the room in their desperation to couple. This wasn't even frantic kissing, just a slow, steady exploration, soft noises and little breathy moans. They were teasing each other, and Loki was hard just picturing Natasha's kiss swollen lips.
When he could hear Natasha's moans a little more clearly, Loki knew that James must have moved away from her mouth. Perhaps her neck or breast. The rustle of fabric he next heard was likely the coverlet, and Loki's mouth went dry with want. He wanted to lick at her folds, wanted to taste her from the inside out. He wanted to curl his tongue inside her soaking slit, wanted to slide his fingers inside her, feeling her clench down as she cried out and arched up off of the bed, grabbing at his head to keep it in place. He wanted her calling his name, voice fracturing with the onslaught of pleasure, wanted her to know that he was more than enough to please her, that he would do anything for her.
Maybe he let out a choked noise of some kind, want choking him. A cold metal hand moved to rest on his back, and it was steady on his spine as he trembled. Still no words uttered, and he didn't want to be the first one to speak if Natasha didn't will it. He couldn't bear punishment today, not when he still didn't know what was happening around him, when the temptation to spin out of control was too great. He hadn't thought he could handle speaking to Wanda with his temper out of control, so he simply passed along a number of books for her reading list and a request through SHIELD to speak with Doctor Strange.
James must have been kneeling on the floor near Loki, to keep a hand on him and still touch or kiss Natasha. He thought it must be licking into her, if he had to guess by the sound, and his gut tightened. Why couldn't he participate? Why couldn't he touch her? Was Natasha unhappy with him? Had he done something wrong? He was terrible, she knew that, she knew how to control it, knew how to keep him in check, and-
The metal fingers curled along his spine and moved down, not quite scratching at him. It was odd having James do this petting motion, as if he wanted to soothe Loki's addled nerves the way Natasha usually did. She was definitely on the receiving end of something good, to judge by the sound of her fracturing breath and gasps. It was quiet, the hushed sounds she usually made when not forcing herself to be loud for Loki's sake.
He tried to block out the sound of it next, as it was too agitating to think of her flushed skin and moans as something from James. He was jealous, dammit, she knew that, knew how easily wound up this would make him.
Unless that was the point? Oh, she could be cruel indeed. And oh, how he loved her for it.
There was the throaty moan as she came, and the sound of her flopping backward onto the bed to try to catch her breath. He wanted to shout at her, wanted to demand to know why she was being so inflexible when he needed her. But then James tugged on his bound arms and shifted him over, forcing him to hobble over until he was positioned where James wanted him. Still no words, nothing but nudges and positioning him just so, then a push at the back of his head to indicate that he should move forward.
Loki could smell her arousal and desire, and it set his mouth watering. Another nudge forward, and then his mouth was right there, right where he wanted to be, and all he had to please her with were his lips and tongue. He did so, devouring her flesh, laving at her generously, licking as deeply into her as he could go, his nose bumping into her clit and making her sigh happily at the attention. She had one leg hooked over his shoulder, heel against his spine, ensuring that he couldn't move too far away from her if he was so inclined. Her other leg was somewhere else, not on his body, and he guessed that she had her heel up on the bed and leg frogged out, opening herself wide to him. Her fingers weren't in his hair, so her hands had to be busy. Maybe she was fondling her own breasts, maybe she was fondling James. It didn't sound as though her moans were muffled, so she wasn't kissing him or sucking on his cock.
But now that he had his mouth on her, he didn't care if she was sucking him off, if she was bringing him the same ecstasy he was giving her. In this moment, he could share. He could afford to be magnanimous, he could be generous and even friendly. Loki had his own part of Natasha, had something he could give her. It went without saying that he could use magic on her, that he could make her come without even lifting a finger. But where was the challenge in that? And she so rarely wanted him using magic on her when she was commanding him, he didn't even think to use it now.
So she could lie back and fondle James, could smile and bat her eyelashes prettily at him, red hair spread out beneath her head. She could give him that if Loki still had part of her that belonged to him. There was still what he could give her, what he could control. In this, he was confident. In this, he never doubted himself, ever. Natasha had never faked anything while in his bed, and there was no need for her to ever start.
And without her saying a word, Loki could feel himself settle into his own skin. Yes, he was a monster and always would be. But he was clever and useful, he had a place here, and he would figure out whatever puzzle presented itself to him.
By the time Natasha came with a guttural cry of pleasure, Loki grinned and settled in to do it again. It didn't even matter that his own cock was aching and weeping, that he wanted so badly to sink into her and feel her slick heat. He was a master at this one task she set for him, and he could do it under any conditions.
Loki was even certain he could carry over that confidence to other tasks. And what was magic but confidence and will made manifest?
***
Steve was starting to rethink this idea of training with James even on his bad days.
He likely hadn't discussed the off days he sometimes had with Natasha, Steve was willing to bet, and wondered why he hadn't, either. Natasha had been far more approachable lately, maybe because he knew now that she had forgiven him his lapses in judgment. It wouldn't exactly be tattling on James, but it sort of felt that way, too.
So here he was, getting his face pounded with the metal hand, and James carried a knife in his right hand, slashing viciously at Steve. The blank look in his eyes was the most frightening part of this particular session, as if no one was home and it was strictly programming that he was falling back on for the sparring. Calling out James or Bucky hadn't gotten rid of that blank stare in his eyes, which was sending chills through him.
Feinting right, Steve whirled around and clocked James on the jaw, sending him staggering backward. James shook himself out, then his gaze settled back on Steve. It wasn't quite as empty as before, but it still was disconcerting to see.
"Sorry, Buck," Steve apologized, holding his hands up in surrender.
James stood, shoulders hunched forward a little, knife and fist and his sides. It seemed almost like he was contemplating whether or not to accept it. The disconcerting chill was building, just shy of being abject fear.
Then suddenly James nodded and stood, tossing the knife aside. "Yeah. Happens."
"Wanna tell me what happened there?"
"No."
His tone was so sharp and cold, distant, a stranger's voice. Steve wanted to rush forward and shake him, as if he could knock Bucky loose. But that would be the wrong thing to do, probably only trigger more things to flood his mind. They had vaguely alluded to lost memories before, the myriad missions he was forced to do. He was supposed to change history, Steve thought, taking in the aggressive stance. He was nothing more than a weapon to them, something to use however they saw fit. And he didn't even want to imagine what they might have done to him in the pursuit of that.
"Are we done for today, then?" Steve asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
James wasn't looking at him, was angled away but not quite with his back to Steve. It was a bad day, then, when he was more a mass of programming and triggers than his old friend and Natasha's lover. It hurt to see this and not be able to do anything about it.
"Buck?"
He whipped around, and there was something fierce and angry in his eyes. "Not today, Steve. I can't do any more today."
"Yeah, that's fine," Steve said, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension in them. James ignored the movement and started stalking toward the door to the gym. "Hey. You're coming with me to the top deck later when Sif arrives, right? You said you wanted to meet her."
At Steve's words, James paused, but he didn't turn to face him. "That was today? I don't... Today isn't a good day. I can't do any more today."
"What can you do today, then?"
He turned, jaw set. "Don't, Steve. Just... don't." His fists were clenched at his sides, eyes sparking with anger. Steve hated that he was the source of that anger, but that was better than the empty stare, wasn't it? The anger at least grounded James in the present.
"I want to help. I don't know how."
"Let's hear it for Captain America," James said, an angry and sarcastic edge to his voice.
Steve blew out a breath, inhaled slowly, blew it out again. James was doing the same across the room from him. "Does it make you feel better to sock me in the jaw?"
"No."
"What's going on in there? What can you tell me?"
James snapped his gaze to Steve, still angry. "I remember being ordered to kill Howling Commandoes. To kill you if you were ever found and you lived like I did. You were an enemy, Steve. I was the Asset, I was part of Department X. And anything soft, they took it away and destroyed it. Or had me do it."
"That's not who you are."
"You sure, Steve? You really sure?"
"I'd stake my life on it," he replied immediately.
James shot him a sour look. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he snapped before stalking out of the gym.
He wasn't there in the penthouse when Sif and Thor returned from Asgard.
***
Natasha had been absolutely right, and it was time for Wanda to become more aware of magicks that had deadly potential. She had absorbed spells and many tricks from Frigga, and Loki was definitely teaching her by his own questionable example. Her eyes shone at the sight of his office, and it made Loki think that maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to have a partner in magic after all. She was thirsty for knowledge, for understanding the forces that she was learning to control. She had a wicked sense of humor when she unleashed it and didn't worry over what he thought of her, or if she would make him angry.
It was odd. Was Wanda potentially a friend? Loki was sure that Sam would think so.
He asked Natasha to accompany him and Wanda as they met with mages SHIELD contacted regularly. While he was nominally an employee and Natasha was also just a consultant, the mages wouldn't know that. Plus, if he emotionally went off the rails and thought about killing the mortal fool that angered him, having Natasha present would remind him that this wasn't about killing magic users. Well, not directly. He wasn't supposed to kill magic users. He was supposed to track down whatever creatures were killing them, and teaching Wanda that there were actual uses for these skills that she had. Perhaps she would work with SHIELD, perhaps she would work with the Avengers. It would ultimately be her choice, at least.
Doctor Strange wasn't responding to inquiries, so Natasha had looked to Marissa Tourney. She wasn't a frequent advisor for SHIELD, and had little reason to work with Loki after he had harassed her three years ago for one of Amora's rings of power. The woman still lived in a posh TriBeCa apartment. She had the appearance of a petite woman approaching middle age, some white streaked in her elegantly done black hair. It was cropped to shoulder length, a subtle permed wave added to give a little weight to the fine strands that otherwise were stick straight. She had brown almond shaped eyes and a flare to the base of her nose that hinted at an Asian heritage, but her skin was pale and she wore fine jewelry and tailored clothing.
She agreed to meet Natasha, Loki and Wanda in a public place, so Natasha picked Washington Square Park. "Plenty of witnesses and escape routes if it comes to that," she had offered to Marissa. It might have been unnecessary, but the bench Marissa was sitting at was close to the subway entrance.
Her eyes flicked over the three of them in surprise. "You don't appear to be so..." Marissa's voice trailed off as she tried to think of the appropriate word for Loki.
"Murderous?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Well, yes," Marissa replied, clearly disconcerted that he would be so blasé about his prior behavior with her. Natasha had been solicitous in the past, and she didn't know anything about Wanda aside from her youthful appearance.
Rather than wear the scarlet Asgardian robes or something skimpy, Wanda had taken on a more streetwise look. She was still in red and black; she wore clunky black boots with silver buckles, black tights, a bright red skirt, black shirt and black leather jacket. She had scarlet nail polish on, heavy kohl rings around her eyes, bright red lipstick and left her dark hair loose. She had merely grinned at Loki's put upon sigh when leaving the tower, and also smiled merrily at Marissa's uncertain expression in her direction.
"I was unduly influenced by several artifacts, one of which I had taken from you," Loki said, shrugging as if her discomfort didn't matter. "I am no longer under its influence."
"But likely no less murderous," Marissa retorted.
"Given the proper circumstances, perhaps," Loki acknowledged. He grinned at her, all teeth and fever bright eyes, making her back up on the bench a bit.
"Knock it off," Natasha snapped at him.
"Who's this?" Marissa asked, looking at Wanda when Loki wasn't introducing her.
Wanda took it upon herself to do introductions, and Marissa contemplated that for a moment, gaze turned inward. "You are difficult to classify, based on the kinds of mages I've worked with before," she said finally. "Obviously a park is no place to learn magic."
"There's your home," Loki pointed out.
She glared at him. "Where you are not welcome. I will take Wanda to a different location, and we'll see if it's a good fit. If not, maybe I can make recommendations."
"Doctor Strange isn't returning messages from SHIELD," Natasha informed her.
"I don't think he's in this dimension right now," Marissa told her. "He's the Sorcerer Supreme, he has duties to fulfill."
Wanda blinked at Marissa's matter of fact tone. "That sounds impressive."
The older woman smiled faintly at her. "The responsibilities are far more than what I want to handle. And I'm guessing more than what you want to handle."
"I just want to learn more right now," Wanda replied honestly. "I've been on Asgard with the Queen and her handmaidens, and now I'm here."
"Rather eclectic mode of study," Marissa commented, rising to her feet. Her smile was kinder when she saw Wanda's anxiety. "It's how it usually is. You find someone to teach you, and by word of mouth, knowledge grows. The community is rather close knit, if you can find it. I can help you steer through the waters here."
"Loki's teaching me magic, too."
Loki was rather surprised that Wanda stuck up for him, though it didn't show on his face. It did make Marissa pause to look at him critically. "Hm. I suppose you are different than before. You're still not welcome."
He shrugged as if it didn't matter, but it did sting his ego. He didn't bother to watch Wanda leave with Marissa, turning his back to indicate that it wasn't important to him. Natasha watched, eyes tracking everything, arms crossed comfortably in front of her chest as she remained seated on the bench. She ultimately nodded at it beside her. "She's got a cell phone and you've taught her to play dirty. I'm sure Marissa won't do anything to her."
"I wasn't worried about it," he lied.
Natasha snorted and leaned back a little. "So you're off the hook for a little while."
"Something doesn't feel right, still. The deaths of those veterans. Doctor Strange yet again on a different dimension. I feel... unsettled, I suppose."
"Is it truly something to do with magic, or because you don't have a purpose?"
Loki scowled at her, not wanting to admit that she might have a point.
"We have nowhere to be, and it's a lovely day today." She folded her hands over her stomach and looked out across the park. "Unless you'd rather spend it indoors." Loki was about to ask what she meant when her lips curled in that private, sensual way he adored. "In Astoria."
"Yes. Now." He raised a hand to create a portal in front of them when she sharply shook her head. "But-"
"Anticipation, Loki. There is such a thing as savoring the anticipation for a thing."
Or dreading a thing, but that sometimes amounted to the same emotion.
He smiled, insides starting to churn. "Then lead the way."
***
***
Note: I'm not sure if I'll be able to post next week because I'll be leaving on vacation ridiculously early on Wednesday. Yes, the story will continue, as will the rest of the series. I'll pick back up in July once I'm back and settled in at home again. :)
To Chapter Three - Ownership
Series: #21 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved, #18 - Release, #19 - Never Noticed, #20 - How You Live And Breathe)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky, Clint/Darcy
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse. Warning for mentions of suicide.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: There are many different ways to express emotion, affection and love. There are just as many different ways to protect others.
Prior chapter:
One - New Faces
Two - Bad Days
Loki crashed into the "office" of his suite, ripping through texts and scrolls that he had, looking for any mentions of something that could entirely devour someone's spá. Something like that had to be impossible.
Natasha followed him in, obviously worried about him, but he couldn't think of that now. If he did, if he stopped to think, then his agitation would grow into outright fear. What if that creature ever came after her? The very thought of her death sent him into paroxysms of pain and loathing. Would he slit his own throat to follow her into death? Or would he try to storm the gates of Helheim to get her back? Could he even do it if he tried?
He didn't know, couldn't know, and it was best not to even try.
"Something weird happened," James observed.
"Dead. Dead-dead, nothing left, not even microbial life." Loki spoke without looking up, not taking his eyes off the text he was trying to skim through. He dropped it and reached for another one, using a thread of magic to bring another scroll closer. He muttered under his breath in Allspeak, ignoring the look that passed between Natasha and James. There had to be some kind of creature that could do this. A nightmare, a child's story, perhaps. There had to be something, because for this to spontaneously happen to two people he had known, however distantly it might be-
"What if there are more, then?" Natasha asked, agile mind working. "Two dead bodies like that, both of whom you knew as magic users..."
Loki continued to mutter, so Natasha was the one to call out overhead for Jarvis to begin cross referencing odd deaths and "suicides" of people known to use or play at magic.
"Just in the United States? Or throughout the world?" Jarvis asked.
His head jerked up in surprise. "Why? Are there other deaths? It's not a local phenomena?"
"It may not be," Natasha said quietly. "You started your takeover here five years ago, but there were global steps taken to protect against threats like you afterward."
He hadn't known that. It didn't stroke his ego now that he was exiled here.
"Global, then," James decided. "And we'd better talk to the magic users out there that you know of. If someone or something is hunting them down? They need to know."
"I need to find out what did this. It isn't an ordinary spell," Loki said.
"And this room is a mess," Natasha said, looking around. Her expression clearly stated that she had no idea what his organizational style was and she didn't care to find out. "You have an apprentice. Isn't this the kind of thing that they're for?"
"I have her practicing the seidr and giving substance to the spells she creates. She might not be ready for magicks such as these," Loki replied tartly.
"How do you know until you try?" she asked pointedly.
He sighed and threw the book in his hands across the room. "I haven't the temperament for this! I can't be a teacher. What was Frigga thinking?"
"That you need to learn patience," Natasha guessed. "And she could use your expertise."
Loki snorted. "Don't try to make me feel better."
She tolled her eyes at him. "Making you feel better would be initiating an extra session, not telling you to grow the fuck up and do the things you said you would."
He ignored the second part of her statement and looked at her eagerly. "Would you add another session for me? I'd like that."
Natasha threw up her hands. "Don't you know you can just ask by now? You don't have to be a little shit or worry yourself to death first."
"I'll have you know I'm not being either at the moment," Loki told her in a huffy tone of voice. "I do have concern of some creature draining magical energies, and that is entirely legitimate and appropriate. I just happen to like your sessions."
"Tonight, then. Eight o'clock," Natasha said with a shrug. She looked over at James, who gave a slight nod that he would be there as well.
Well, then. Something pleasant to look forward to. After she left, Loki went through his books with far more care. He still didn't find anything useful.
***
Loki knelt on the bedroom floor of the Astoria apartment, a black silk blindfold wrapped around his eyes, his hands bound behind him with the black chains. No shirt had been allowed, and he had to kneel with his knees slightly apart to keep his balance. He could feel the stretch in the heavy fabric over his thighs, the feel of his boots against his rear. There was the rustling of fabric somewhere near him, a soft susurrus that he couldn't identify. Was she undressing? Changing? Getting James ready for something?
By the Roots, would she make him service James? Fear and dread anticipation flooded through him at the thought, and he couldn't tell which was the stronger emotion. James wouldn't hurt him, not deliberately, anyway, and Natasha wouldn't allow permanent damage.
But oh, he was awful, awful. He was nothing, there was nothing, he needed to be ground down to dust and rebuilt again. Each time Natasha took him apart, she put him back together cleaner than when she found him. How she managed that trick, he had no idea. But she did it, he could hum with desire instead of anger, he didn't want to raze entire realms to ash.
Then her fingers were combing through his hair, soft and wavy as she liked it, nails scraping lightly across his scalp. A shiver worked its way down his spine, and Loki wondered if she was smiling in response. He responded to her, a finely tuned instrument, an object to work to her desires, a tool to use however she saw fit.
Oh, please, let her see fit. Let her want me...
Music began to play, a soothing jazzy tune that Loki wasn't familiar with. He could hear the slight clink and hiss of James' mechanical arm, wondered if he was starting to dance in time to the beat. It had to be his kind of music. Natasha liked classical music to soothe her when she was overwhelmed, and otherwise listened to an array of popular styles.
Her fingers dipped down to the nape of his neck, and it sent another shiver down his spine and arms. He bowed his head, giving her better access, and was rewarded with a kiss to the nape of his neck. There were no words, just the faint touches and press of her fingers, running her nails down his skin, nudges to get him into the position she wanted. Ultimately, his arms were still bound behind him, but he was bent over his knees, his forehead close to touching the floor, his body twisted in complete subservience.
Natasha licked down his spine, then pulled away from him. "Wait there," she said in a husky tone, as if he could do anything else.
Then he heard weight sinking down onto the bed, a soft sliding sound, then kissing. He wanted to choke; Natasha was kissing James on the bed, they were going to have sex while he waited there, bent in half and aching for her, make him sob in desperation, make him want any depraved thing she would ask of him, just to touch her, be touched by her, just be near her-
All he heard was kissing, hitched breathing as desire took hold. Nothing more salacious than that, not when he knew they could be rather... acrobatic. And noisy. And messy, with clothes strewn all around the room in their desperation to couple. This wasn't even frantic kissing, just a slow, steady exploration, soft noises and little breathy moans. They were teasing each other, and Loki was hard just picturing Natasha's kiss swollen lips.
When he could hear Natasha's moans a little more clearly, Loki knew that James must have moved away from her mouth. Perhaps her neck or breast. The rustle of fabric he next heard was likely the coverlet, and Loki's mouth went dry with want. He wanted to lick at her folds, wanted to taste her from the inside out. He wanted to curl his tongue inside her soaking slit, wanted to slide his fingers inside her, feeling her clench down as she cried out and arched up off of the bed, grabbing at his head to keep it in place. He wanted her calling his name, voice fracturing with the onslaught of pleasure, wanted her to know that he was more than enough to please her, that he would do anything for her.
Maybe he let out a choked noise of some kind, want choking him. A cold metal hand moved to rest on his back, and it was steady on his spine as he trembled. Still no words uttered, and he didn't want to be the first one to speak if Natasha didn't will it. He couldn't bear punishment today, not when he still didn't know what was happening around him, when the temptation to spin out of control was too great. He hadn't thought he could handle speaking to Wanda with his temper out of control, so he simply passed along a number of books for her reading list and a request through SHIELD to speak with Doctor Strange.
James must have been kneeling on the floor near Loki, to keep a hand on him and still touch or kiss Natasha. He thought it must be licking into her, if he had to guess by the sound, and his gut tightened. Why couldn't he participate? Why couldn't he touch her? Was Natasha unhappy with him? Had he done something wrong? He was terrible, she knew that, she knew how to control it, knew how to keep him in check, and-
The metal fingers curled along his spine and moved down, not quite scratching at him. It was odd having James do this petting motion, as if he wanted to soothe Loki's addled nerves the way Natasha usually did. She was definitely on the receiving end of something good, to judge by the sound of her fracturing breath and gasps. It was quiet, the hushed sounds she usually made when not forcing herself to be loud for Loki's sake.
He tried to block out the sound of it next, as it was too agitating to think of her flushed skin and moans as something from James. He was jealous, dammit, she knew that, knew how easily wound up this would make him.
Unless that was the point? Oh, she could be cruel indeed. And oh, how he loved her for it.
There was the throaty moan as she came, and the sound of her flopping backward onto the bed to try to catch her breath. He wanted to shout at her, wanted to demand to know why she was being so inflexible when he needed her. But then James tugged on his bound arms and shifted him over, forcing him to hobble over until he was positioned where James wanted him. Still no words, nothing but nudges and positioning him just so, then a push at the back of his head to indicate that he should move forward.
Loki could smell her arousal and desire, and it set his mouth watering. Another nudge forward, and then his mouth was right there, right where he wanted to be, and all he had to please her with were his lips and tongue. He did so, devouring her flesh, laving at her generously, licking as deeply into her as he could go, his nose bumping into her clit and making her sigh happily at the attention. She had one leg hooked over his shoulder, heel against his spine, ensuring that he couldn't move too far away from her if he was so inclined. Her other leg was somewhere else, not on his body, and he guessed that she had her heel up on the bed and leg frogged out, opening herself wide to him. Her fingers weren't in his hair, so her hands had to be busy. Maybe she was fondling her own breasts, maybe she was fondling James. It didn't sound as though her moans were muffled, so she wasn't kissing him or sucking on his cock.
But now that he had his mouth on her, he didn't care if she was sucking him off, if she was bringing him the same ecstasy he was giving her. In this moment, he could share. He could afford to be magnanimous, he could be generous and even friendly. Loki had his own part of Natasha, had something he could give her. It went without saying that he could use magic on her, that he could make her come without even lifting a finger. But where was the challenge in that? And she so rarely wanted him using magic on her when she was commanding him, he didn't even think to use it now.
So she could lie back and fondle James, could smile and bat her eyelashes prettily at him, red hair spread out beneath her head. She could give him that if Loki still had part of her that belonged to him. There was still what he could give her, what he could control. In this, he was confident. In this, he never doubted himself, ever. Natasha had never faked anything while in his bed, and there was no need for her to ever start.
And without her saying a word, Loki could feel himself settle into his own skin. Yes, he was a monster and always would be. But he was clever and useful, he had a place here, and he would figure out whatever puzzle presented itself to him.
By the time Natasha came with a guttural cry of pleasure, Loki grinned and settled in to do it again. It didn't even matter that his own cock was aching and weeping, that he wanted so badly to sink into her and feel her slick heat. He was a master at this one task she set for him, and he could do it under any conditions.
Loki was even certain he could carry over that confidence to other tasks. And what was magic but confidence and will made manifest?
***
Steve was starting to rethink this idea of training with James even on his bad days.
He likely hadn't discussed the off days he sometimes had with Natasha, Steve was willing to bet, and wondered why he hadn't, either. Natasha had been far more approachable lately, maybe because he knew now that she had forgiven him his lapses in judgment. It wouldn't exactly be tattling on James, but it sort of felt that way, too.
So here he was, getting his face pounded with the metal hand, and James carried a knife in his right hand, slashing viciously at Steve. The blank look in his eyes was the most frightening part of this particular session, as if no one was home and it was strictly programming that he was falling back on for the sparring. Calling out James or Bucky hadn't gotten rid of that blank stare in his eyes, which was sending chills through him.
Feinting right, Steve whirled around and clocked James on the jaw, sending him staggering backward. James shook himself out, then his gaze settled back on Steve. It wasn't quite as empty as before, but it still was disconcerting to see.
"Sorry, Buck," Steve apologized, holding his hands up in surrender.
James stood, shoulders hunched forward a little, knife and fist and his sides. It seemed almost like he was contemplating whether or not to accept it. The disconcerting chill was building, just shy of being abject fear.
Then suddenly James nodded and stood, tossing the knife aside. "Yeah. Happens."
"Wanna tell me what happened there?"
"No."
His tone was so sharp and cold, distant, a stranger's voice. Steve wanted to rush forward and shake him, as if he could knock Bucky loose. But that would be the wrong thing to do, probably only trigger more things to flood his mind. They had vaguely alluded to lost memories before, the myriad missions he was forced to do. He was supposed to change history, Steve thought, taking in the aggressive stance. He was nothing more than a weapon to them, something to use however they saw fit. And he didn't even want to imagine what they might have done to him in the pursuit of that.
"Are we done for today, then?" Steve asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
James wasn't looking at him, was angled away but not quite with his back to Steve. It was a bad day, then, when he was more a mass of programming and triggers than his old friend and Natasha's lover. It hurt to see this and not be able to do anything about it.
"Buck?"
He whipped around, and there was something fierce and angry in his eyes. "Not today, Steve. I can't do any more today."
"Yeah, that's fine," Steve said, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension in them. James ignored the movement and started stalking toward the door to the gym. "Hey. You're coming with me to the top deck later when Sif arrives, right? You said you wanted to meet her."
At Steve's words, James paused, but he didn't turn to face him. "That was today? I don't... Today isn't a good day. I can't do any more today."
"What can you do today, then?"
He turned, jaw set. "Don't, Steve. Just... don't." His fists were clenched at his sides, eyes sparking with anger. Steve hated that he was the source of that anger, but that was better than the empty stare, wasn't it? The anger at least grounded James in the present.
"I want to help. I don't know how."
"Let's hear it for Captain America," James said, an angry and sarcastic edge to his voice.
Steve blew out a breath, inhaled slowly, blew it out again. James was doing the same across the room from him. "Does it make you feel better to sock me in the jaw?"
"No."
"What's going on in there? What can you tell me?"
James snapped his gaze to Steve, still angry. "I remember being ordered to kill Howling Commandoes. To kill you if you were ever found and you lived like I did. You were an enemy, Steve. I was the Asset, I was part of Department X. And anything soft, they took it away and destroyed it. Or had me do it."
"That's not who you are."
"You sure, Steve? You really sure?"
"I'd stake my life on it," he replied immediately.
James shot him a sour look. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he snapped before stalking out of the gym.
He wasn't there in the penthouse when Sif and Thor returned from Asgard.
***
Natasha had been absolutely right, and it was time for Wanda to become more aware of magicks that had deadly potential. She had absorbed spells and many tricks from Frigga, and Loki was definitely teaching her by his own questionable example. Her eyes shone at the sight of his office, and it made Loki think that maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to have a partner in magic after all. She was thirsty for knowledge, for understanding the forces that she was learning to control. She had a wicked sense of humor when she unleashed it and didn't worry over what he thought of her, or if she would make him angry.
It was odd. Was Wanda potentially a friend? Loki was sure that Sam would think so.
He asked Natasha to accompany him and Wanda as they met with mages SHIELD contacted regularly. While he was nominally an employee and Natasha was also just a consultant, the mages wouldn't know that. Plus, if he emotionally went off the rails and thought about killing the mortal fool that angered him, having Natasha present would remind him that this wasn't about killing magic users. Well, not directly. He wasn't supposed to kill magic users. He was supposed to track down whatever creatures were killing them, and teaching Wanda that there were actual uses for these skills that she had. Perhaps she would work with SHIELD, perhaps she would work with the Avengers. It would ultimately be her choice, at least.
Doctor Strange wasn't responding to inquiries, so Natasha had looked to Marissa Tourney. She wasn't a frequent advisor for SHIELD, and had little reason to work with Loki after he had harassed her three years ago for one of Amora's rings of power. The woman still lived in a posh TriBeCa apartment. She had the appearance of a petite woman approaching middle age, some white streaked in her elegantly done black hair. It was cropped to shoulder length, a subtle permed wave added to give a little weight to the fine strands that otherwise were stick straight. She had brown almond shaped eyes and a flare to the base of her nose that hinted at an Asian heritage, but her skin was pale and she wore fine jewelry and tailored clothing.
She agreed to meet Natasha, Loki and Wanda in a public place, so Natasha picked Washington Square Park. "Plenty of witnesses and escape routes if it comes to that," she had offered to Marissa. It might have been unnecessary, but the bench Marissa was sitting at was close to the subway entrance.
Her eyes flicked over the three of them in surprise. "You don't appear to be so..." Marissa's voice trailed off as she tried to think of the appropriate word for Loki.
"Murderous?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Well, yes," Marissa replied, clearly disconcerted that he would be so blasé about his prior behavior with her. Natasha had been solicitous in the past, and she didn't know anything about Wanda aside from her youthful appearance.
Rather than wear the scarlet Asgardian robes or something skimpy, Wanda had taken on a more streetwise look. She was still in red and black; she wore clunky black boots with silver buckles, black tights, a bright red skirt, black shirt and black leather jacket. She had scarlet nail polish on, heavy kohl rings around her eyes, bright red lipstick and left her dark hair loose. She had merely grinned at Loki's put upon sigh when leaving the tower, and also smiled merrily at Marissa's uncertain expression in her direction.
"I was unduly influenced by several artifacts, one of which I had taken from you," Loki said, shrugging as if her discomfort didn't matter. "I am no longer under its influence."
"But likely no less murderous," Marissa retorted.
"Given the proper circumstances, perhaps," Loki acknowledged. He grinned at her, all teeth and fever bright eyes, making her back up on the bench a bit.
"Knock it off," Natasha snapped at him.
"Who's this?" Marissa asked, looking at Wanda when Loki wasn't introducing her.
Wanda took it upon herself to do introductions, and Marissa contemplated that for a moment, gaze turned inward. "You are difficult to classify, based on the kinds of mages I've worked with before," she said finally. "Obviously a park is no place to learn magic."
"There's your home," Loki pointed out.
She glared at him. "Where you are not welcome. I will take Wanda to a different location, and we'll see if it's a good fit. If not, maybe I can make recommendations."
"Doctor Strange isn't returning messages from SHIELD," Natasha informed her.
"I don't think he's in this dimension right now," Marissa told her. "He's the Sorcerer Supreme, he has duties to fulfill."
Wanda blinked at Marissa's matter of fact tone. "That sounds impressive."
The older woman smiled faintly at her. "The responsibilities are far more than what I want to handle. And I'm guessing more than what you want to handle."
"I just want to learn more right now," Wanda replied honestly. "I've been on Asgard with the Queen and her handmaidens, and now I'm here."
"Rather eclectic mode of study," Marissa commented, rising to her feet. Her smile was kinder when she saw Wanda's anxiety. "It's how it usually is. You find someone to teach you, and by word of mouth, knowledge grows. The community is rather close knit, if you can find it. I can help you steer through the waters here."
"Loki's teaching me magic, too."
Loki was rather surprised that Wanda stuck up for him, though it didn't show on his face. It did make Marissa pause to look at him critically. "Hm. I suppose you are different than before. You're still not welcome."
He shrugged as if it didn't matter, but it did sting his ego. He didn't bother to watch Wanda leave with Marissa, turning his back to indicate that it wasn't important to him. Natasha watched, eyes tracking everything, arms crossed comfortably in front of her chest as she remained seated on the bench. She ultimately nodded at it beside her. "She's got a cell phone and you've taught her to play dirty. I'm sure Marissa won't do anything to her."
"I wasn't worried about it," he lied.
Natasha snorted and leaned back a little. "So you're off the hook for a little while."
"Something doesn't feel right, still. The deaths of those veterans. Doctor Strange yet again on a different dimension. I feel... unsettled, I suppose."
"Is it truly something to do with magic, or because you don't have a purpose?"
Loki scowled at her, not wanting to admit that she might have a point.
"We have nowhere to be, and it's a lovely day today." She folded her hands over her stomach and looked out across the park. "Unless you'd rather spend it indoors." Loki was about to ask what she meant when her lips curled in that private, sensual way he adored. "In Astoria."
"Yes. Now." He raised a hand to create a portal in front of them when she sharply shook her head. "But-"
"Anticipation, Loki. There is such a thing as savoring the anticipation for a thing."
Or dreading a thing, but that sometimes amounted to the same emotion.
He smiled, insides starting to churn. "Then lead the way."
***
***
Note: I'm not sure if I'll be able to post next week because I'll be leaving on vacation ridiculously early on Wednesday. Yes, the story will continue, as will the rest of the series. I'll pick back up in July once I'm back and settled in at home again. :)
To Chapter Three - Ownership