Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 7.

[teofse]

 

Title: Wooing The Trickster.

Author: Teofse

Rating: G

Pairing: Loki/Tony

Genre: Slash. Romance.

Word Count: 6060

Warnings: None. Unbetaed.

Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.

Summary: “Get ready to be swept off your feet, Loki of Asgard, because my fucking heart has finally found its match, and I'm afraid it's you.”

Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 7.

Staring with frowning concentration at the growing table of data he'd been collecting over the last three days Tony came to the amusing conclusion that sock sliding was, indeed, a science. Typing another figure into his tablet, he scratched the back of his head distractedly, wondering how long it would take the guys from the polishing company he'd hired to finish the fifth buffing of the east wing's corridor floor, which he'd decided to... redecorate... for his new pet project.  He'd have to call Pep in a sec, just to make sure they were done.  He needed to go up there and run a few more tests on the re-polished floor before he could sit down with his chart and figure out how much friction he'd managed to shave off his last calculations by doing the floor again.

“Sir.”

Hmmm...  Looking at his sock-chart, it was clear that the amount of 'fluff' on the sock had a pretty significant impact on the length of the 'slide' achieved. He eyed the twenty or so long selection he'd finally settled on and wondered if he should run another series of tests on them to narrow his list of 'winners' a bit more or bite the bullet of choice and allow Loki to select his own poison when the moment finally came.

“Sir...”

On the other hand the hiking socks with the cushioned soles had performed really well in all his tests and he was beginning to suspect they'd provide the longest, most comfortable slide of the lot.  Hmmm...  Maybe he should scratch the stupid choice idea after all. Who the hell bothered with choice when dealing with science?  Science is all about facts and data and...

“SIR!”

With an irritated sigh, Tony laid down his tablet on the cluttered desk and stared at it intently for a second or two. His fingers twitched with the need to pick it up right away, but he drummed them on the shinny metal surface of his work table and gritted out a thoroughly frustrated:
“What the hell is so important, J.A.R.V.I.S? Have you forgotten how to read the most important protocol I put in place when I programmed you, buddy?  You're under strict orders not to disturb daddy when he's working on a puzzle.”

“I strongly advise you to lift up your head and look towards the door. Please.”

“Shit. Pep's here, isn't she?” Tony sighed even more loudly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his still twitchy fingers, purposefully ignoring his A.I's suggestion while his mind raced like a busy little bee, attempting to estimate how many boring meetings he must have missed for her to come charging all the way down to his lab, after he'd made sure of signing at least a million documents before coming down here, in order to keep her happy for long enough to deal with his research without her interference. “How long has she been standing there, sweet-cables?”

“About forty minutes. And I most emphatically resent your assumption that I'm your Mrs. Potts, Anthony.  Red has never been my color and having such vivid shade of it waving back and forth atop my head will definitely suit me ill.”

The gorgeously sexy, faintly aristocratic drawl that he'd grown to associate with his beloved filled Tony's senses with a warm and unexpected glow of pleasure, and he turned towards the doorway at once, eager to catch sight of the rest of his Reindeer, now that he knew Loki was there.
“Hey, hot stuff!  What's going on?  I hope you're here on your own free will, muffin. Please, tell me you missed me so dammed hard that you had to come down here in order to allow your eyes to bathe in the glory that is a sleep-deprived, unshaven and definitely reeking Tony Stark, man. You'll crush my tender feelings if you tell me Pepper talked you into helping her stage one of her annoying 'interventions'.”

Loki smiled shyly at him and shook his head from left to right, giving Tony the impression that he wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of being here. He was leaning against the door jamb like a visitor who wasn't exactly certain of his welcome. Or a reluctant messenger who couldn't figure out why, exactly, he'd been selected to deliver whatever it was that he'd been told to say. 
“Shit. She really sent you down to drag me out of my own lab. Didn't she?”

Slightly self-conscious green eyes settled over him, then. Taking in his no doubt crazy appearance before skittering away once again in a gesture that betrayed such adorable bashfulness that Tony's foolish heart all but melted on the spot.
“The team seems to be under the impression, and I quote: that you've 'lost it'. Looks like all the noise I've been hearing in the last two days didn't mean you had decided to make some necessary upgrades to your abode, as I initially assumed. The Lady Pepper is concerned by the fact that you had exactly 16 feet of carpet installed in the middle of a corridor that apparently leads nowhere except to a long hallway of highly polished marble floor and a cleaning cupboard.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ... They've been gawking at the floor polishing guys like a bunch of half-witted pigeons all this time, haven't they?”

“I don't know. I—the team's usual shenanigans tend to escape my comprehension, so I wasn't aware that there was anything particularly amiss until the Lady Romanov showed up in my chambers, claiming that your current erratic behavior was, somehow, my fault and demanding I come down here and 'do something' before director Fury gets wind of your latest bout of 'typical Stark melodrama.'”

“Ouch! The Russian firecracker must have been spitting mad if she went the 'typical Stark melodrama' route. Did she threaten you with bodily harm if you failed in your mission to knock some sense into me, peaches?  I'd have loved to be a fly on your wall when she tried that.  I bet you kicked her ass fair and square, verbally at least. Tell me you recorded that special edition of 'Duel Of The Titans', J. A. R. V. I. S. I'm gonna watch it with popcorn and all tonight.”

“Of course I recorded it, Sir. It's saved in your private server.”

“What is going on, Anthony?  What are you doing, exactly, and why is everyone so concerned over a few workers scrubbing down your floors?  I don't really understand what I'm meant to be dealing with. Or why everyone is so convinced that I'm the right person do so. I—surely I can't be responsible for whatever it is you've been doing. How could I?  I haven't even seen you since we went out for sushi and you do have a track record of getting crazy ideas and acting on them impulsively of your own accord.”

Now it was Tony's turn to feel self-conscious and he didn't like the weirdness of the feeling in the slightest. He'd never been self-conscious in his life, except maybe when he'd explained that rose thing to Loki, or when he'd been too busy panicking over whether he should give it to the Reindeer or not... 'Looks like you're turning into a mushy ball of nerves every time this guy so much as blinks in your direction, hot shot. Please, oh! please, learn to show some kind of manly restraint around the sexy bastard and refrain from batting your eyelashes at him or, even worse, bursting out in flirty giggles.'

“Nat's right, gorgeous. I've gone mad and it's all because of you, Lokes. But you already knew that.  I told you all this myself, remember?  I'm boy crushing on you, sugar lips.”

Loki blushed to the tips of his ears and swallowed so hard that his pale throat literally shook with the force of the nervous motion.
“I—what does that have to do with the workers and the carpet and a corridor that leads nowhere but to a cleaning cupboard?”

“Sock sliding, hot stuff. We're going sock sliding.”

Loki blinked.
“Are you trying to tell me that you're doing—whatever it is you're doing, because I agreed to go sock sliding with you?  I thought that sort of thing is supposed to be spontaneous, like jumping into a huge puddle just to watch dirty water splash all over the place.”

Tony squirmed in his seat and shrugged his shoulders, faking as much nonchalance as he could possibly muster.
“Yeah. It works pretty much like that for most people. But you are not most people, blueberry. This will be your first time and I want it to be perfect.”

A small gasp of shocked surprise rushed past Loki's lips in the next second and Tony all but swallowed his own tongue when the Asgardian's odd reaction forced him to re-play his exact words. His face heated with the embarrassment of knowing he'd just put his foot in it without meaning to do so, and he shot out of his seat and was right beside Loki before the God had enough time to blink, let alone turn tail and run for the hills as fast as his legs could take him.
“I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make some crass joke about virginity, I swear.”

Narrowed green eyes pinned him to the spot with nothing but the strength of the deathly seriousness they portrayed.
“I am not a virgin, Stark. I was having sex long before you were even born. Long before your America was founded. Long before your Midgardian ancestors realized they could use their feeble brains to plan more than their next foray for food.”

“Loki...”

“I've had both one night stands and affairs aplenty. I have fallen in love too many times to count, too. I may be old. And I may have been burned. But I am not inexperienced.”

“I'm sorry, pumpkin. I'm sorry...” Tony crooned softly, raising his right hand at snail-paced speed until his slightly trembling fingertips grazed his crush's narrow chin. He traced back and forth along the sharp line of his sexy god's jaw with careful tenderness and gave this pesky apologizing business a second, harder, try. 'Geez, I genuinely suck at this.”

”Don't take half of what I say when I'm sleep-deprived seriously, please. You know I have a filter-free mouth, Reindeer. I meant it when I said my words had come out wrong. I didn't decide to like you because I felt sorry for you.  I don't think you're some sort of godly virginal wallflower, either. I wish you were, to be honest, but that's just me being a greedy prick, because then I wouldn't have to deal with the idea that you've probably bedded more people in your lifetime than I'll manage to poke in both my past and future put together. Try standing in my expensive Italian loafers for a second, blueberry... I'm competing with two thousand-year old viking super-warriors, gorgeously ethereal light elves and all kinds of heavenly, uber-powerful dudes. I'm leaving out the dwarfs and the fire monsters and those deformed lizard things you brought into New York the first time you stopped by, but... yeah. Even after taking all those creeps out of the equation there are still plenty of perfect folks to worry about.”

Loki chuckled weakly and shook his head from left to right, clearly bewildered.
“Jealous. You are jealous of past lovers who only ever allowed me into their furs to gain either my expertise or access into the Allfather's inner circle... You don't have to worry about any of those vile liars. None of them has a hope of raising past the mud on the sole of your shoes, Anthony.”

Tony smiled self-deprecatingly and cradled the sorcerer's cheekbone with emboldened fingertips, puling that gorgeous dark-haired head downwards until he could press his own forehead up against Loki's pale one.
“And you don't have to worry about me loving you out of pity or curiosity or whatever the fuck it is you think is fueling my feelings. I'm not seeking to deflower a naive and untouched God and I'm not planning to use you to gain either your expertise or access into your dad's court. I've got expertise of my own, thank you very much, and your father isn't on my list of favorite people at the moment, so... I'll take a pass on the undoubtedly unpleasant experience of meeting him, if it's all the same to you.”

A small, wavering smirk bloomed across Loki's lips in a smile that may have been slightly uncertain but would have still managed to stop New York traffic at high peak without breaking a sweat.
“The king of Asgard would despise you, Tony Stark. You are far too smart, too... unpredictable... for him to control properly. He wouldn't be able to either relate to you or make you dance to his tune, like he does with everyone else. I love the idea of you two clashing at some point during your lifetime, but I fear what that encounter may do to director Fury's nerves. We'll undoubtedly end up paying for giving another stomach ulcer to the Avenger's fearless leader, will we not?”

Tony broke out into peals of gleeful laughter and pushed backwards a step, lest he ended up surrendering to his increasingly enamored instincts and planted the most soul-sucking of soul-sucking smooches all over Loki's sexy smirk.
“Anything that can make Fury explode like a supernova is a good thing in my book, pumpkin. I may have to reconsider my stand on meeting your dad now, you know?  We could even use the chance to show him how well we dance to our own tune together.  What do you say, peaches, shall we take on the challenge of going toe to toe against daddy, dearest?  You and I, tangoing our way to victory against the heavenly golden cyclops himself... Should be fun to see the shock on his face, if nothing else.”

Loki swallowed heavily and looked slightly away, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, and Tony was a mere muscle twitch away from allowing his ratty trainers to stomp all over his own tongue until the dammed thing learned to have some tact around the Reindeer when the man himself made a rather clumsy, but oh-so-endearingly-welcome, attempt to save the moment.
“I prefer my fun a tad less... deadly. You promised me sock sliding, Tony Stark, and you have failed to deliver it.”

“I haven't failed. But I'm not ready yet, cheekbones of doom. I'm trying to build you the best sock sliding platform out there. I'm even running some stress and resistance tests on different kinds of socks in an attempt to find you the perfect pair to achieve the longest slide. I'll deliver your afternoon of midgardian-flavored-fun alright and it'll be awesome. You just have to wait a bit more.”

Loki looked at him askance.
“So this is what the Lady Romanov wanted me to fix... I must say I see her point. You are taking your sock sliding preparations far too seriously.”

Tony shrugged and pushed his hands inside the pockets of his old and stained jeans, forcing himself to look directly at the beautiful green orbs that studied him so intently.
“I told you this already: I'm putting effort. This will be your first time sock sliding. I want you to have fun, Loki.”

“Nobody should put effort into fun. That would spoil the very spirit of it, drain it of the carefree spontaneity that makes it so delightful. Fun cannot be planned, you must allow it to... be.”

“You could have just told me to deliver the goods already. You realize your weirdly poetic dissertation was wasted on my matter-of-fact brain, don't you?”

“I've wasted my words on far less worthy causes. At least you listen to me in your own, chaotic way and that, right there, gives great value to the breath I spend while addressing you.”

“Okkeeey Dokkeeey, Rudolph. Let's skip to the fun part before we get hopelessly tangled in another pit of angst. I have the bad feeling that was a poisoned dart aimed squarely at Thor's head and I hate it when I land in the middle of non-Tony-Stark-related misery. We should limit that sort of stuff to about half-hour a week, unless you're willing to let me get away with less, of course. Because I'm all over that option, blueberry. Yep. Zero hours of non-Tony-Stark-related misery a week sounds as right as most right things can sound to me.”

Loki chuckled under his breath and muttered something about impossible, cheeky midgardians as he bypassed Tony and devoured the distance between the doorway and the desk in three seconds flat. He hovered beside the engineer's abandoned wheelie stool for a moment, looking down at the assorted mess of papers, metal scraps and socks that littered the cluttered table with amazed bewilderment.
“This is incredible... I have never seen so much unrelated garbage coexisting together atop a single surface. How can you find anything here?  I'll go mad if I had to work on such... untidy... environment for any length of time.”

“Pfft! How you have the balls to claim you're the god of Chaos when you're such a fan of the anally-retentive, pristinely organized desk look I'll never understand. You should be laughing with gleeful delight at having found yourself such rich and attractive earthly acolyte, pumpkin. You should be handing out welcome-to-my-sect cookies at the very least. Or kisses. Hmmmm... I most enthusiastically encourage you to start handing out daily kisses to your followers, as long as there's only one of those and he goes by the name of 'me.'”

Loki laughed. He honest to goodness opened his mouth and roared a full-bellied, gorgeous laugh that set every tingling cell in Tony's body aflame with toe-curling desire. He stared, stunned, as his God's gorgeous face came to life with unfettered amusement and his knees turned to jelly at the mere sight of his Reindeer like this. Just like this. Exactly like this...

Loki had always been beautiful. But he was exquisite in this moment. Utterly, undeniably, exquisite. It occurred then to Tony that his crush must have been born to spend his entire life laughing. That's why he'd been given the nature of a Trickster, not a mean-spirited one at that either, but a prankster who'd have delighted in being the reason behind the laughter of those who surrounded him. He must have always been meant to grace the universe with this loveliness, no matter what a bunch of disgusting Asgardian motherfuckers had driven him to believe just because they'd had the actual balls to steal the son of a king away from his rightful home, and raise him to feel ashamed of the natural talents he'd been always meant to wield.

Loki had always been a sorcerer and he had always been a Trickster. Those had been the most despised traits of his personality while he'd been growing up and they'd also been the two traits that survived whatever the hell had happened to him, despite his environment's dogged determination to destroy them. They hadn't been browbeaten out of him because they were intrinsic to his nature, like the elegance with which he moved or the slenderness of his frame. It was now pretty obvious to Tony that his Reindeer had been born to be happy enough to laugh all day long. Because no power in the universe would have bothered to create such pure perfection just to stuff it in a drawer and deny it the chance to shine as brightly as possible.
“I wish you would laugh more often, hot stuff. You could have conquered the world with the power of that smile alone. No need for the creepy lizards whatsoever. Only you, just you, forcing us, earthlings, to bow down to the power of that uber-sexy grin. Your smile is really that awesome, Loki.”

The aforementioned grin became even more amused, and an already fiercely aroused Tony was regaled with a flirty flutter of maddeningly long eyelashes.
“Flattery is a weapon you wield expertly, my dear Anthony, but you must learn to deliver your promises too, or you'll never be taken seriously by anyone with... high standards.”

Tony swallowed a groan and shifted from foot to foot, trying his best to hide his tormented prick's reaction to all that bloody sexy godliness.
“Sock sliding... yeah. Anything that lets me get my paws all over you is most certainly a priority right now.”

Loki looked taken aback by his enthusiastic answer but Tony was at the end of his rope already. He was horny, confused, utterly charmed. He was running on fumes and his head hadn't stopped spinning since the moment Loki's prickly formality melted away to reveal this easy-going, warm and delightfully approachable version of his crush.
“That was—unseemly bold of you, Anthony.  I'm no trollop to be pawed regardless of how many beds I've graced.”

“I get it. I get it. I swear. You're planning to give me the blue balls to end all blue balls before you so much as let me see your left nipple. This is the universal kick in the teeth that your weird fate ladies have devised as payback for all the beds I've graced. Give a dying man a bone and don't tell me off for wanting you, buttercup. I can't help it anyway. I'm a fucker of the worst order and my mind is probably the dirtiest pit of sin out there, but I promise you I'll behave if it is the last thing I do. I'm in love with you, Loki, and that... that changes everything, sweetheart. Everything.”

His words seemed to have rendered his poor beloved speechless, judging by the vulnerable look that had suddenly taken over Loki's widened stare and the fact that his expressive thin lips had opened to form a slight 'Oh' of shocked fragility.

A moment passed before his flustered Reindeer attempted to hide his flushed face behind the curtain of black hair that fell forwards to veil his profile when he looked towards the table with visible desperation.
“So... this is a sock.” He mumbled with a strangled tone and leaned forwards to pick a bright orange crew-length between thumb and forefinger. “They look far more... boot-like... when they are on a foot. Where are the fastenings hidden?  The workmanship displayed by your tailors is so fine that I can't make out where they lay.”

Tony couldn't help the loud snort that exploded past his lips even as his openly bewildered stare failed to miss the little signs that betrayed how offended Loki was growing under his shocked scrutiny.
“You've never worn socks before?”

His crush stiffened from head to foot, which was never a good sign, and spoke with that snotty and careful over-enunciation that usually preceded disaster of the wispy green disappearing act variety.
“I told you they're a midgardian invention. Why would I have ever developed the need to wear them?  I've managed to live without doing so for two thousand years!”

Tony closed his hand around a flailing wrist, just in case his Reindeer decided to hightail it out of his lab before he could sort out this mess, and spoke as softly as he dared:
“Hey... calm down, sugar lips. I wasn't laughing at you, Loki. I was just behaving like a dick, as usual. Come on, babe, you know I've got no tact whatsoever, so don't hammer me down for my natural failings. Why don't you choose a pair among this lot, so I can go down on bended knee and put them on you like a proper, fairy-tale gentleman, eh?  That should get us over this hurdle nicely enough.”

Loki dropped the sock he was still holding as if it'd woken up and chewed his hand right off. He then went as far as to pointedly take a step backwards, looking absolutely appalled at the very thought of letting a peasant 'midgardian' anywhere near his heavenly toes.
“No. Oh, no. I couldn't possibly humiliate you like that. We have servants who do that sort of thing in Asgard, Anthony. Forcing a fellow warrior to perform such menial task is a great insult indeed.”

“Hey, hey, listen to me, peaches: I don't care if blatant warrior-to-warrior toe-baring isn't done where you come from. We don't have servants over here, Loki, and in this neck of the woods a foot is just that: a foot. Picking yours up in order to slip a pair of socks on isn't going to offend me in the slightest, buddy. On the contrary, it'll probably turn me on like a 100 watt light bulb.”

“You don't understand. I can magic the thing on myself without any trouble whatsoever. I—there's no need at all for you to touch me like that. We can both preserve our dignity and...”

Tony made a grab for the skittish little bastard and shook him lightly, but with feeling.
“You are the one who doesn't understand, so let me spell it out for you in the simplest terms of all: I. Am. Dying. To. Get. My. Paws. On. You. I want to touch you all the time. I want to touch you everywhere.  Anywhere. For as long and as boldly as you let me get away with, and I... I'd be dammed pleased—No. Scratch that. I'd be fucking honored to put those bloody socks on you, Loki.”

“Honored. You'd be honored to—Honored...” The smurf kept repeating that one word again and again with the kind of shaken, thoroughly overwhelmed tone that helped Tony realize he'd just managed to make mincemeat of Loki's formidable emotional defenses. His gorgeous sorcerer was wide-eyed and dazed, looking inwards towards some awfully dark place that had remained purposely closed off for way too fucking long.

Tony's heart jumped to his throat as he stared right at Loki and caught his very first glimpse of the lonely child within. This was his crush as he must have always been: a kid who'd been both lost and abandoned long before he even knew how to cope with his own loneliness. This was Loki as he didn't want to be any longer: a hungry soul whose ravenous need for affection scared him so completely that he'd locked it deep inside and thrown away the key. This was a Loki that hadn't been seen for years. A Loki that flailed and wavered and wanted and needed... so much. This was Loki undone and vulnerable. Frightened right out of his mind.
“Hey, don't faint on me, princess. It'll suck balls if it turns out I made you sick when I only wanted to put some socks on you.”

Loki failed to laugh at his teasing little quip, but made the attempt to sooth his ego with a small smile that tried, but couldn't quite alter the tear-bright intensity of his gorgeous green eyes.
“Do not cheapen what you've offered me, Anthony. I have never been sought out without ulterior motives before. I don't know how to react to that at all. I don't know how to react to you. And I'm afraid I lack the words to tell you how very deeply you've touched me, just now.”

“Loki, please, don't...”

“Do not fret, my witty mortal, for I'll let you go back to your word games in just a second. I need to tell you first that I know you aren't all crazy brashness and bravado. You can be sensitive when you want to be, Anthony. You see more than you ever admit to, and you... you care, deep down, where it matters. I could grow to love that about you with a fierceness that scares me.”

Tony's heart was so full of... stuff... that it threatened to burst right there and then. His brown eyes rounded like marbles and he blinked in overwhelmed reaction to the hope that was now raising inside him like a waking giant.
“You'll give me a heart attack if you keep talking like that, Reindeer. I may not deserve your high praise but I won't let go of the love, if you're planning to bestow it.”

Loki shook his head at that and rewarded his latest attempt at misdirection with a full-on indulgent smile.
“You shouldn't run so far ahead of yourself, man of Iron. I said I could love you, not that I have plans to gift you with such affection at this point. That kind of regard must be earned and you haven't done so yet.”

“I'll have you know that I've never, so far, failed to 'earn' whatever prize I've coveted. I'm Tony Stark, hot stuff, there's no prince in Asgardian armor I can't charm with a spot of sock-sliding or two. Why, I even have the perfect pair of socks available right here. Take a look. Aren't these absolutely awesome? They should look pretty ravishing on you.”

His crush stared in horrified fascination at the eye-popping pair of fluorescent tie-dye socks in question.
“That must be the most hideous thing I've ever seen.”

“Should be fun to wear them, then.”

Loki blinked, hovering between agreement and denial for a second. Then his narrow face brightened with playful glee and he laughed like a madman as he hopped onto the wheelie stool that served as Tony's desk chair.
“Go on then.” He whispered softly, vanishing his tall leather boots with a careless flick of his fingers and wiggling his toes invitingly. “Inflict those crimes against sock fashion upon me, Anthony.”

Tony swallowed a groan and dropped down to his knees, feeling lightheaded and weak just from being given the chance to feast his eyes on that elegant arch and those delicate, bony ankles.
“You have the feet of a God.” He praised inanely and Loki burst out in delighted giggles.

“I should. I am a God, after all.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” Tony pouted, cradling a boot-warmed heel in the palm of his hand.

“And how did you mean it?” Loki purred playfully and Tony couldn't help himself any longer, so he raised the foot he was holding and placed the most reverent of kisses in the middle of his sorcerer's pale arch. “I meant it like this, Loki of Asgard. You have the kind of feet that should be worshiped with kisses and licks and open-mouthed nibbles.”

Loki's breath hitched and he pinned Tony to the spot with the brightness of his eyes: 
“You are far too forwards, mortal.” He scolded, but there was a roughness to his voice that spoke of burgeoning arousal.

“Don't tease me then, until you're ready, because I want you like this with every breath I take.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have teased you for my own amusement. That was unnecessarily cruel of me and I deeply regret it. Please, forgive me, Anthony.” Loki was the one who gulped then, his pale complexion blushed to a deep crimson and his gaze lowered so demurely that Tony all but swallowed his own tongue as his cock rose like a wagging tail, enthusiastically determined to wave hello to the beautifully shy masterpiece it was desperate to bang. 'Sweet, hippy Jesus on a Pogo stick, this sexy fucker is gonna to be the death of me.'

“That's alright, gorgeous, there was no harm done.” He mumbled clumsily and proceeded to concentrate for all he was worth on covering the sorcerer's bare feet with the garish socks they'd chosen.

His usually nimble, steady, useful fingers became a clumsy gaggle of inept thumbs that struggled something fierce to pull up that pair of socks. The small deed took veritable ages of loud silence, ferocious arousal and skin-prickling awareness of how very close they both were to one another. Tony's nerves were shot to hell by the time he stood back on unsteady feet and gathered enough strength to whisper:
“We have to go up to my floor. I—The polished corridor in question is there.”

“Why can't we try it here first? We're both here. We have socks, and I want my first time to be somewhere close to your heart, Anthony. I want this memory to make you smile and think of me fondly while you're working on this desk in the future. I want to make a place for myself among your passions.”

“OMG! that's just—come here, hot stuff.” Tony said roughly and had to close his burning eyes for a second or two when Loki hopped off the stool without a single hesitation and nestled himself right into the curve of his slightly opened arms. He had never had his crush so close before. He had never felt every line of that maddeningly sexy body plastered all over the front of his own tortuously aroused form. He had never realized Loki's hair smelled like a rain-washed forest or had been given the opportunity to notice the small birthmark behind his left ear.

“Ready whenever you are, oh, great sock sliding master.” Loki's cheeky ribbing prompted him to take gentle hold of a long-fingered hand with his own. He forgot all about kinetic friction, floor and air resistance, optimum angles and desirable starting up speeds in the next second. He forgot everything that wasn't the slightly cold feel of Loki's elegant fingers holding tightly onto his own and that beautiful face, so eager, so intrigued, so very ready to be dazzled, looking down at him in search of... guidance.

He whooped loudly and launched into a fast paced race towards the relatively tidy space that opened up at the center of the lab, dragging a squealing Loki along with him. He reached the middle of the room and angled his body slightly downwards letting his socked feet begin to skid across the polished surface and feeling first the slight jolt and then the wobble of Loki's first, ever, sock slide travel up his arm like a soft wave. 

Loki laughed as he found his balance and... glided, and the sound was both loud and carefree. He literally twinkled with delight and looked so exhilarated that Tony would have given half his fortune just to keep him here forever, safe and sound in a place where he could grow to be happier that he'd ever been before. Where he could grow to be confident. Where he would be allowed -and even encouraged- to giggle himself into exhaustion every bloody day of the year.

“Again. Again!” He demanded as soon as they came to a full stop and Tony's foolish heart curled itself around the God's little finger as he suddenly realized he'd become officially addicted to the look of sheer delight shining brightly in those green eyes.

“Of course we'll do it again, sweetheart. We'll keep doing it until our legs start trembling and the socks fall off our feet in ratty ribbons, if that's what it takes to keep you laughing like this, Loki.” He vowed fervently and, pulling his companion closer, rose up on his tiptoes and planted an impulsive little kiss on the tip of Loki's nose.

His sorcerer's expression lost its playful mirth, reacting to such small gesture with unwarranted solemnity. Tony saw his mouth open and heard his thoroughly flustered:  “Anthony...”  but he had absolutely no intention of letting him spoil the moment with whatever decorous statement he planned to make.

“Ssshhh, Reindeer, just... ssshhh. Let's have fun for today, alright?  We'll have all the time in the world for the serious stuff tomorrow.” Green eyes frowned with reluctance even as their owner gave a cautious nod of acquiescence and Tony wasted no more time in grabbing those elegant fingers again and racing towards the middle of the room like a lunatic. His blood sang inside his veins and his breath hitched with eager exhilaration as he reached the right spot and allowed his socked feet to skid along the floor once more, feeling his senses drown in the perfect mix created by the rush of their childish game, the coolness of Loki's hand draining the warmth of his own ever so slowly and the sound of his crush's laughter twinkling, like bells, in his ears.

 

TBC...

( Chapter 8 )


( Chapter 6 )