Brooding 50

Loki turned off the music after a while, having grown tired of the incessant barrage of sound and words. He had even skipped past several songs that he considered too obnoxious for his taste, although he had found a few he actually liked. Some of them he recalled hearing while on Midgard, and they made him strangely nostalgic for the backward little planet. Of course it was not so much for the planet itself but for the time he had spent there with Clint; in a roundabout way, the music reminded him of the archer, who had introduced him to many aspects of the realm that Loki would have struggled to comprehend on his own.

Loki pressed the knobs on the wall above the bathtub labeled “H” and “C” – presumably for hot and cold, respectively – and waited in vain for the water to flow. He was exhausted from his exertions of the day, not to mention his long captivity by Thanos and his subsequent transportation across countless light-years via the Tesseract. All Loki wanted to do was sleep, but the temptation to be clean – really clean, with soap and water, not just by seiðr – had lured him to strip out of his clothes and stand naked in the humble Midgardian bathroom. The fact that the plumbing did not respond to his touch frustrated him; he seriously considered blasting the entire structure to smithereens.

The old farmhouse was spared such a fate by Clint knocking on the bathroom door just then.

“Sir?” he asked.

“What is it?” Loki snapped.

“Perimeter’s secure, Sir. Is there anything else I can do?”

Loki drew in a deep breath before answering. “Yes. Come in here and make this damn thing work!”

The door was promptly opened but Clint paused on the threshold. He had not expected to see Loki wearing nothing but a scowl. The Human pulled himself together and leaned past his new commander to turn on the faucets, then tested the temperature of the water with one finger before nodding.

“Is that too hot, Sir?”

Loki followed suit and quickly withdrew his hand. “Yes, that’s scalding!”

The demigod observed how Clint had rotated the knobs rather than pressing them and deepened his scowl. Midgardian plumbing was even more primitive than he had expected.

“How is it now?” Clint asked.


Loki stepped over the side of the antique claw-footed tub to stand in the stream of steaming water. He could not suppress a sigh of pleasure as the liquid coursed down his body.

“Sir? Um…”

Loki arched an eyebrow as he glanced over at Clint, his expression clearly stating his wonderment that the Human was still there.

“Would you like me to wash you?”

Now the surprise on Loki’s face was genuine. Before he could form a reply, Clint elaborated.

“I’m guessing you had servants who did stuff like this for you, back where you came from, and… forgive me for saying so, but you look like you’re dead on your feet. If you’d like, I can give you a quick once-over so you can get to sleep that much quicker.”

Loki’s lips had parted when his jaw had dropped, and it took him a moment to snap them shut. His mind was tired, too, taking longer to respond.

“That would be… acceptable,” he finally answered.

Clint grabbed a washcloth and lathered it up with a bar of soap, saying, “You might want to brace yourself against the wall. I’ll try to be gentle, but I wouldn’t want you to slip and lose your balance.”

Loki did as suggested and was soon rewarded by having the lathered cloth traveling over his shoulders and back in swift, efficient strokes. He had not been washed by another since a memorable day on which he and Thor had been covered by the blood of the elgroch they had hunted down – Loki’s knife had hit its jugular vein, sending blood spewing directly back at them. The brothers had taken turns washing each other in the bath to make sure none of the foul-smelling clots had lingered, knowing they would incur their mother’s wrath if they arrived at the dinner table in anything less than an impeccable state. Thor had wanted to fuck him then and there but Loki had staunchly refused to be late to dinner. Had he known how brief their affair would be, he might have chosen differently.

Loki forced himself to focus on the present. He wondered if it were only his imagination that Clint’s hand had lingered more than necessary between his buttocks. The archer moved swiftly down Loki’s long legs.


Loki lifted first one foot then the other to allow his servant to wash them.

“If you’ll turn around and rinse your backside…” Clint began. Loki turned around immediately, unabashed by his nakedness. He had been put on display so often in Thanos’ court that merely being unclothed no longer bothered him. It did, however, trigger a flush to spread up Clint’s neck and over his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. Loki could tell that the Human was trying hard not to stare at his cock. Even flaccid, it was extremely long and well-shaped – an endowment of which Loki was understandably proud. Clint washed his master’s arms from the shoulders to the wrists, then started working his way down Loki’s chest, the crimson blush in his face growing deeper the closer he moved to the demigod’s privates.

Finally there was no avoiding the situation. “May I?” Clint asked, his gaze flickering to meet Loki’s for only a moment before returning to a vague spot around his feet.

“Of course. You must always finish what you start,” Loki purred, amused to see the Human discomfited. He placed one foot on the ledge of the bathtub to give Clint better access. While the archer was occupied with re-lathering the washcloth, Loki leaned over to confirm what he had suspected: there was a tell-tale bulge in the front of Clint’s trousers.

Clint washed Loki’s lengthy cock with clinical precision before moving back to the balls, even reaching to scrub the area behind them. The gentle massaging motions he made caused Loki’s cock to begin hardening, also, but the Human tried to ignore it – despite it being right in his face – although he did swallow a few times. Having washed almost every square inch of Loki’s skin, only one thing remained to be done.

“If you could squat and get your hair wet,” Clint said with a gesture towards the showerhead, which was affixed at Loki’s shoulder level, “it’ll be easier to shampoo. I’m sorry this thing isn’t detachable. Next place we stay, I’ll make sure the accommodations are better.”

Loki complied, reveling in the sensation of warm water flowing through his hair. When it was sufficiently doused, he turned his back to Clint again and waited for the archer’s skilled hands. He was not disappointed. Clint had stepped up onto the bathtub ledge to better reach the Loki’s head, balanced on his bare feet, and massaged his scalp gently with the pads of his fingers, working in the shampoo from the roots to the tips of Loki’s long hair. After a quick rinse, he repeated the process. Loki had not felt so well cared for and pampered in literal ages.

Ducking under the shower for a final rinse, Loki felt a smile forming on his lips. Things were going well, exactly according to his plan, and his selection of this particular Human had been a resounding success. He turned off the water (now that he knew how) and stepped out of the tub to where Clint was awaiting him with an unfurled towel. Once dry, he was helped into a terry-cloth robe the farmer’s wife had provided.

Clint had suggested making the couple “see the light” with Loki’s “glow-stick spear” – sound tactical advice that had already proven useful. After being subdued, the homeowners had eagerly offered Loki their bedroom, even changing the sheets for him, and the wife had heated a batch of cookies she had frozen for her grandchildren so that the unexpected visitors could have some quick nutrition. Erik had insisted on crashing on the couch to allow the couple to stay in the guest bedroom, which had the only other bed large enough for two. Clint was slated to sleep in their son’s former room in the attic.

Regarding the large bed prepared for him, Loki was struck with an idea. He turned to study Clint, who was busily checking that the windows were locked and secured, placing breakable Hummel figurines in front of them as a low-tech alarm system.

“Clint Barton,” Loki called after sitting down on the bed.

“Sir?” Clint responded, pausing his activity to turn to him. His ears were still flushed although his face had returned to a more normal color.

“Come here,” Loki said and pointed at the foot of the bed. Languidly, he lay back against the pillows and parted his legs just enough for the hem of the robe to open up, revealing a hint of what lay within. When Clint was standing at the assigned spot, Loki considered him for a moment.

“Do you wish to fuck me?”

The flush returned in full force, but this time Clint did not avert his eyes.

“Yes… Sir.”

“Hm.” Loki smiled, pleased and amused. “I thought as much… You may yet have opportunity for that. For now, I want to know what you think of my… spear.”

There was no mistaking his meaning as he opened up the front of the robe, exposing his half-erect cock.

“It’s… beautiful, Sir.” Clint swallowed again. “I would love to suck it.”

“You may.”

Loki grinned with satisfaction as the archer hastened to comply. The god of mischief knew that, in spite of his exhaustion, sleep would not come easily in this strange new environment. A good sexual climax or two would help his brain relax and shut down enough to let him sleep well through the night – a luxury he had long been denied. He also knew that the spear Thanos had given him, while it could cause another being to believe he was madly in love with the wielder, was not the reason for Clint’s obvious sexual attraction towards him. Loki had specifically changed only the archer’s loyalty; the fact that Clint saw Loki as an object of lust was a product of his own natural urges. The attraction was real – and, Loki admitted to himself, mutual. Clint’s competence and surprising intelligence (for a Midgardian) was impressive, and his muscular physique made the demigod want to see the man in all of his naked splendor.

Now, as he watched Clint sucking and fondling his manhood with utmost care, Loki realized that he wanted more: he wanted to be fucked hard into the mattress by this talented Human lover. Clint was touching him in ways he had never been touched before – not even by Thor – as though Loki’s pleasure alone was what mattered to him. Although Loki had enslaved the man’s mind, he had done nothing to influence Clint’s love-making style, which was sensitive and considerate while still being assertive. Clint’s every move declared that he was a man who knew what he was doing and what he wanted, but he was willing to set aside his own needs long enough to focus on his lover’s.

Loki only had enough energy to decide, “Later… I must have him fuck me… It shall be glorious!” before the stimulation of Clint’s hands, lips, and tongue became too much to bear. With a few breathless cries, Loki spewed his seed into his servant’s face, and the Human lapped it up hungrily before licking his cock clean.

Stifling a groan, Loki pulled on his cock in faster strokes, trying to recapture the ecstasy of that first time Clint had made him come. Moments like these made him more grateful than ever for Frigga’s thoughtfulness in providing drapes for his cell; he did not want to imagine what the Nidavellian rapist Dwarf would do if he could see Loki pleasuring himself like this. He tried instead to imagine Clint’s strong, stubby fingers touching his privates, kneading in all the right places, and Clint’s lips swallowing his cock while the Human’s distinctive eyes sparkled with salacious glee. Loki gritted his teeth to contain his grunts as he came, then sank back into his comfortable (if lonely) bed. Waiting for his breathing to grow calm, Loki wondered if he would ever experience sex with Clint again. He doubted it, but knowing that Clint still wanted to fuck him – contrary to Loki’s former belief that the archer hated him – helped ease his pain somewhat.

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