“Jarvis, nefarious purposes? Really?” Summer’s no longer expecting an answer, actually; now that she’s in the Tower she can tell what’s going on. Not sure what her part in it is supposed to be, but she can tell what’s going on. She drums her fingertips on the walls in the elevator, unusually impatient with the length of the ride.When she steps out, it takes a second to realise they’re in the bedroom — Tony’s sense in her mind is different somehow, like an echo. And then she stops in the bedroom door, and her jaw drops. It shouldn’t be sensual, she thinks, it really shouldn’t be, Tony bound hand and foot and Loki hovering over him with dark desire.
But oh god, it is.
“I quite like you the way you are,” Loki replies, pressing Tony back onto the bed. “Including rebellion.” He turns at the sound of the elevator, smiling a dark smile. “Ah. Summer. How good of you to come. Tony has acquired telepathy,” he informs her. She looks — overwhelmed. Flushed and confused.
Loki beckons her closer, before leaning back over Tony. He cups one hand around the back of the genius’ head, thumb sliding over his cheek. “Can you see her in my mind, Tony?” he whispers. “She likes you like this. Helpless to our touch. What will happen when she touches you too, our fiery empath?” He kisses at Tony’s throat.
“Does that mean you’re encouraging me to misbehave?” Tony wonders, the corners of his mouth curling up. As if to emphasize his question, he gives a particularly vigorous thrash, his back arching away from the bed for a moment. He falls still, however, when Loki notices Summer.
He tilts his head into Loki’s hand, restraining the instinctive urge to look in Summer’s direction. He can, in fact, see her, just…not in the typical fashion. It’s…strange, seeing someone’s mental of a person, rather than the person herself.
Anything he may have said dries up at Loki’s words. When he does speak, his tone is a bit foggy. “Hey, Sunshine. You just gonna enjoy the show from a distance or what?”
There are /no/ words. She doesn’t even try, just walks across the floor, half-dazed by the swirls of desire spinning in the room. Telepathy. That explains — a lot. The echo. The sheer, overwhelming emotion.
Summer reaches out, fingers brushing against Tony’s hand — and she might as well be unclothed and spread beneath them both, oh god. “Please, darling, misbehave,” she whispers, finally, curling the fingers of her other hand around Loki’s free hand.
Pulling the god upright, she kisses him, drawing it out as much as possible. “Tell me what you want.”