Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity.”

Tony headed for the bar like a god wasn’t standing right there in his penthouse. The day hadn’t started well, and frankly, it was taking a turn for the worse. Mostly because his brain-to-mouth filter tended to fail when he was afraid, and to have a human-looking alien with vast plans of conquest waltzing into his penthouse may or may not terrify him. Just a little bit.

The point was: he needed a drink.

“Actually, I’m planning to threaten you,” Tony said, casually as you please, because as much as he was afraid, he liked the thrill of incoming danger. More often than not, he spoiled for a good fight, and not necessarily one he was assured to win. There was something… addicting about the uncertainty. The danger. The risk. Some people called him reckless; others, self-destructive.

At least, he mused as he picked up his favorite bottle of Scotch, he didn’t have delusions of grandeur.

“You should have left your armor on for that,” the delusional intruder retorted.

They both smiled: the god with a cruel edge and Tony trying to tamp down the growing excitement he felt. Being threatened in his own home was nothing new, but this new enemy was different. Beyond human. Powerful in ways he hadn’t yet understood.

Tony was still very much afraid, though. So, he tilted the bottle, one brow arched, and offered the god his own glass.

His visitor turned him down. “Stalling me won’t change anything.”

Tony didn’t think it would, but he was curious. This was, after all, an alien he was talking to. An alien who planned on taking over Earth, sure, but an alien nonetheless.

And besides, stalling did change something—it allowed Tony more time to think, and going by the day’s events, he needed that dose of extra time. “No drink, you sure? I’m having one.”

Putting on the bracelets linked to the Mark VII did wonders for his ego. In all the ways that mattered, he was a god, too. And with that new surge of confidence allaying his fear, he strutted towards the other ego in the room, tempted to test his luck some more.

“There’s no version of this where you come up on top.”

It wasn’t long afterwards that Loki, God of invasions, tossed him out the window…

*

… only for Tony to materialize into his penthouse like nothing had happened.

He blinked.

“Jarvis.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Haven’t I…” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Loki, who didn’t look like he wanted to defenestrate him again. As a matter of fact, the window was intact, and the god just explored Tony’s domain, the pattern of his pacing giving Tony a strong sense of déjà vu. All the hair on his body stood on end.

What. The. Hell.

“Sir?”

“Never mind,” he mumbled, and fished his phone out of his pocket.

He must have taken a serious blow to the head, because according to the digits, he had yet to be threatened by the god. Which didn’t make sense. Tony would know if time travel was a thing. He kept himself appraised of every major leap in science and technology. And more importantly, he was pretty sure he would be the one making that breakthrough.

Which left two options:

1) He was dead. It was… unlikely. Tony didn’t believe in the afterlife. There was life. And death. Simple as that.

2) He was dreaming (while in a coma). A more plausible explanation already.

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” the god drawled.

Tony startled. More déjà vu. His mind went blank for half a second.

“Actually, I’m planning to threaten you,” he said automatically.

“You should have left your armor on for that.”

“Perhaps I should,” Tony reflected out loud, reminiscing on what had happened after, or rather—what would happen in just a few minutes. But no. That was madness. This… Whatever this was, was real. Back to the Future was not. With that belief firmly in mind, he made a beeline for the door. Offered that drink again, because he needed time to think, again.

The following conversation wasn’t exactly the same, but digging himself an early grave was a natural talent Tony had, and one of the many reasons Pepper had left. So, he taunted the god again, and got the tip of the scepter aimed at his chest again. It didn’t work this time either. Tony felt smug, but mostly, secretly relieved. He hated it when people tried to manipulate him, be it Norse deities or surrogate father figures.

“You know,” he said, lips curling in a smile as he felt the familiar words on the tip of his tongue. “Performance issues… Not uncommon. One out of five…”

The pain spreading from his back outwards as he was flung out of the window was disturbingly familiar.

*

It took Tony nine repeats of the same events for the improbable but obvious conclusion to dawn on him: he was trapped in a time-loop of sorts.

He’d dismissed the possibility of a very vivid dream somewhere after the seventh time he’d taken a dive. The thrill, the fear, the pain—it all felt too real. And the coma hypothesis just didn’t hold up under close scrutiny. The suit had come to him in time every time, because if it hadn’t, there was no fucking way he’d have survived the falls.

And he kept surviving them, apparently. Only to reappear at his penthouse all over again to try again.

Yes: the empirical evidence of time being on pause was overwhelming.

*

Tony had never been the type to lose an opportunity. And this time-loop, as improbable as it was, kept happening to him, and Loki. And further down the scale of probability, it seemed that Tony was the only one aware of the Groundhog Day remix, Tony Stark style. The god couldn’t possibly remember, because no matter how rude Tony’s questions were, and how often he got defenestrated or choked to death or stabbed repeatedly as a result—Loki preferred to slice his throat open in a very dramatic fashion, duly noted—the god never acted any differently when they met again. At least, until Tony asked his newest most urgent question.

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity.”

“Actually,” Tony drawled, done with the whole let’s-have-a-drink-between-enemies spiel thirteen defenestrations ago, “tell me this: why Earth? What does Thanos want here that he can’t get—”

Loki moved so fast that Tony felt his back hitting the wall before he registered the hand on his throat. And the god’s face inches away from his own. He discarded the urge to lean forwards for a kiss, if only to throw the god off balance and see what happened. No matter how incredible the whole situation was, he wasn’t suddenly living in a fairy tale where kissing the prince solved everything.

Although, Loki was technically a prince.

And Tony really, really wanted to know if Loki fucked the way he fought: hard, fast, dirty.

If he’d crush Tony’s body for being so daring, or if he’d shove him to his knees and feed him his cock.

“How does a mere mortal know of him?” Loki hissed.

Tony’s feet merely touched the ground, but he could still breathe. Small mercies.

You told me in an alternate present, he almost said, but truth be told, he liked his little advantage a little too much to show his hand so soon.

“He’s… coming soon, isn’t… he?”

“You stupid, stupid mortals!” The god snarled, and this time, the insult was definitely extended to encompass the whole of humanity. “None of those stones should be on this indefensible excuse of a planet!”

“Excuse… you,” Tony gasped, wriggling and pulling at Loki’s fingers in vain, because that was what people did when they were strangled, even the great Tony Stark. And also, he was buying a little time. Stones. This was the first time the god mentioned them. “What kind of… stones are we… talking about… here? Sedimentary or metamorphic? Old… rock or more modern —”

Snap.

*

Thud.

The tip of the Chitauri weapon came to lie against the arc reactor for the thirty-seventh time. Tony didn’t budge, and didn’t make any of the hundred quips that flashed through his mind. The god was easy to provoke, delightfully so, but Tony was getting kind of tired of the status quo. Coaxing more information from Loki, who had no clue Tony had already obtained, didn’t seem to win him any brownie points with the time lords. Tony was beginning to consider not only their existence, but the fact that he’d pissed them off at some point. Why wouldn’t time entities exist? There was apparently a time stone in the Sanctum. He was trapped in time.

A change of tactics was required.

Tony lifted his chin just an inch, lips curling into the secretive smile he knew, by now, didn’t promise immediate death. He’d discovered about five loops ago that the God of Mischief shared his thirst for knowledge—when his temper didn’t work against himself. It would be stupid not to exploit it.

 “I’ve never seen blue eyes quite like this,” he remarked. They were quite beautiful, but there was an artificial quality to them. Those were no contact lenses. “It’s not your natural color, is it?”

Loki’s expression shifted minutely. If Tony hadn’t spent several hours studying that handsome face, he might have missed it. Or misunderstood its significance.

Shock. The kind Tony could exploit if he was fast enough, and clever enough.

Good thing he was both.

“This.” He tapped a finger against the scepter. “Looks like the kind of weapon that could influence someone.”

“It should,” Loki said, but didn’t attempt to touch Tony with it.

This was only the second time it happened so far. Tony’s eyes dropped to the god’s hand gripping the weapon. A tight grip. But the fingers were shaking.

More puzzle pieces slotted together.

“Someone took hold of your mind with it before you came in its possession,” Tony forged ahead, not heeding the dangerous gleam in Loki’s eyes. “But you’re fighting it. The influence. I can tell.”

“You don’t know me,” Loki said, but doubt crept into his voice.

Tony guessed he was acting a little too familiar by now. Like they knew each other. Which was only half true. He darted out his tongue, licking at his lower lip with languid intent. “You’re buying time, Loki. But what for?”

“I didn’t give you permission to use my name, mortal.”

This time, when Loki’s hand dug into his jaw, his thumb was closer to his mouth, and Tony was tempted to do something about it.

He’d never been able to resist temptation for very long.

Kissing a god, it turned out, was very much like kissing a human, except in all the ways it wasn’t.

Loki was more than a thousand years old, which meant a great deal more experience in the department than Tony could ever hope to get. To be on the receiving end of such skill was… mind-blowing. Hot as hell, too. Loki’s tongue was cool, but the suave drag of it along Tony’s bottom lip registered very high on the heat scale. And the way Loki sucked on his tongue… It was wicked and dominant and so arousing Tony felt his cock throb in the confines of his pants.

“I’m here to kill you,” Loki purred, teeth grazing the tender skin of his throat. His voice, when he dropped it in pitch like this, was pure sex. “Why aren’t you fighting me, mortal?”

“This isn’t… Ah.” Tony’s hands turned to fists at his sides as a firm hand started fondling him through his slacks. He shouldn’t be that close already. He was in his mid-forties, for fuck’s sake. “Fighting?” he croaked.

Heat flashed in those too-bright blue eyes. “Are you really trying to fight me for dominance?”

Tony let out a mangled cry as Loki’s hand squeezed his balls through the linen.

“Honestly?” he gasped, running his mouth because hell, this was hot, and surely not a life-or-death situation anymore. Not as long as it was a loop. “Not really.”

“Good.”

Defying Tony’s earlier predictions, the god neither killed him nor fucked his throat. Instead, he dragged him to the window he’d already broken twenty-five times and pushed Tony face first into it. The casing of the hard reactor hit the glass, and Tony wondered if he should take it as a compliment that Loki had magicked all of his clothes away.

The moment that a cool, slick finger pushed into his hole, he decided that yes, this was definitely eagerness on Loki’s part. With a low grunt at how good the glide of that single digit felt, he braced himself against the window, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the city he’d sworn to protect.

“Jesus,” he panted, so hot already, so high on adrenaline and endorphins both.

“Wrong religion,” the god hissed in his ear.

Three fingers were a stretch, especially so fast, but Loki must be using the high-shelf lube that gods kept on their nightstand, because there was no pain, only an incredible pressure he’d missed a lot. Tony tried to move his hips a little, fuck himself on those wonderfully long fingers, but the god was crowding him against the glass, groaning low as he decorated Tony’s neck with bruises. The edge of pleasure-pain got to Tony like nothing else.

At least, that was what he thought until Loki rammed all three fingers against his prostate.

“Fuck.”

“Soon enough,” the god crooned.

Tony howled as Loki started to abuse his prostate in earnest, the god fucking him with those three fingers with incredible force and efficiency. His legs began to shake, but Loki’s free hand shot to pin his chest to the glass, holding him into place like an entomologist’s favorite butterfly, and that shouldn’t be possible, because another hand was pressing his face into the window—

Ah, magic.

“You know,” the god said conversationally, pulling out his fingers and nudging Tony’s twitching hole with the head of his cock. “I always thought mortals were boring and predictable. You, dear Anthony, are a welcome surprise.”

“How… ah. How so?”

Loki filled him out in a single thrust, and remained there, sheathed inside him, cool chest pressed against Tony’s warm back as though this was just a nice conversation about the weather.

“You’re addicted to danger.” The god pulled out, only to thrust back in with enough force to knock the air from Tony’s lungs. “You’ve got such a mouth on you. It has been tempting…” He began to fuck him in earnest, the glide of him smooth and electrifying. “… to silence you with my cock.”

Tony’s brow banged against the window. He didn’t have any space to reach for his cock, and the fact drove him just a little mad. He ached. “I… thought about it, too,” he admitted, nails skidding over the glass.

“You’re taking it so well,” the god praised, multiple hands skimming down Tony’s back and hips, another pair kneading his buttocks, pulling at them to better expose his hole stretched around Loki’s girth. A digit started circling it, pressing, massaging, using. “To be perfectly honest with you, and that is a privilege, Anthony, I’ve been thinking about having my way with you for about five loops.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. How… “W-What?”

“You’re talking too much now,” Loki chided.

For the next ten minutes, Tony was unable to think that revelation over, let alone ask questions. He grunted and swore and moaned and begged—mostly, he begged—as Loki drilled into his ass with a frenzied kind of intensity, his thrusts unerringly precise. His cock was leaking against the window, blurring the city down below, and Tony couldn’t remember producing that much precum since his early teens. The slick sound of Loki’s balls slapping against his ass almost drowned the roaring of blood in his ears.

“Pleasepleaseplease, my God, please…”

By the time Loki deigned to reach around for his cock, Tony was a sobbing mess. He exploded in Loki’s fist, ass spasming around the god’s cock lodged deep inside him. At the sensation of cool sperm spraying his insides, he felt his knees give entirely, and he passed out.

*

He woke up in his bed. Naked.

Loki lay down beside him, not a hair out of place. But his lips were… redder, and there was a hint of proprietary smugness in the intensity of his scrutiny.

This wasn’t a loop, Tony realized with a shock.

“This isn’t a loop,” he said out loud, propping himself on his elbows. “How?”

“How isn’t this a loop?”

Tony blinked at the ceiling, taking stock of what he knew. His ass was on fire. He’d been well and truly fucked, he’d begged for it, and more importantly: he had apparently given the time lords the right offering (himself?) because he was out of the loop.

He glanced at the god, heartbeat quickening a fraction. “Yes, that. And if you knew all this time, why didn’t you say anything?”

Loki, the asshole, countered with another question.

“How many loops did you experience?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“I looped this day two hundred and fifty-one times.”

“Oh,” was everything Tony could come up with.

Loki arched a brow. “It made me curious, that a mortal would be affected. And you’re…”

“… addicted to danger, yeah, yeah, I heard the first time.”

“If I were you…” Loki trailed a finger down his ribs. “I would take care of what comes out of my mouth from now on. You’re no longer protected by this loop.”

Tony shrugged. A smile flashed on Loki’s lips, as if the god had been waiting for this exact reaction. Or the lack thereof.

“I wanted to see what you would do. And you didn’t disappoint me.”

“I’m good in bed.”

“I don’t recall testing that theory.”

Tony knew he should take a break, but fuck, he wanted Loki’s cock again right now, human limits be damned.

But first thing’s first.

“I’m still alive, which means that whatever I said during those loops you do remember after all, must be true. And you must need allies, or you would have thrown me out of my window again as soon as you were done fucking me.”

“That’s one way of seeing things.” Loki arched a brow. “What if I wasn’t done ravaging you?”

“I think you’re trying to buy time,” Tony quipped back.

“What did I say about being careful with your mouth?”

“I guess you have no other choice but to make it busy. How about you fuck my throat raw, and I get an answer to my questions.”

“To one question,” Loki countered, but he was already straddling him.

The end