“Shhh,” she soothes, not even really aware of it. With Tony almost as much in her mind as she usually is in his, there’s actually a feedback /loop/. She can hear him hearing her — it’s bizarre. Steadily she unbuckles, unbuttons, and unzips, even while she’s absorbing and reflecting back both men’s every emotion.“Hips, Tony,” she murmurs, pulling his pants down, and it’s just as Loki said: where ordinary bonds would catch, the fabric falls right through. She has to pause there, hand braced against Tony’s hip, just to breathe deeply, reduced almost to the point of whimpering simply by Loki’s eagerness and Tony’s arousal.
Finding some point of balance, she kisses her way from knee to hip and starts on the buttons of Tony’s shirt, pausing again to shove her hair back over her shoulder and out of the way.
“Good girl,” Loki murmurs. He shifts in the chair, his own pants increasingly tight, but that’s part of the game. He gets up, still running the flogger through his hands, and climbs onto the bed at Tony’s head. “Well, Tony?” he says, bending to kiss his forehead. He can see how pleased the genius is already, but he wants to hear him say it.
Putting the flogger down, but keeping it in mind, along with half a dozen other toys, Loki strokes Tony’s hair, sinking his fingers in and tugging. “Helpless and knowing what’s coming. Is that nice? Do you like it?” With his other hand, he snags a trailing strand of Summer’s hair, running it along Tony’s cheek. “Sugar and spice, but you don’t know which is coming when.” He pulls harder on the dark hair.
Tony wasn’t really of a mind to be soothed, at that point. In fact, he couldn’t imagine he could feel any further from ‘soothed’ (or soothable) than he did in that moment. Still, he hitches his hips up obediently.
He was just getting used to the din of Summer’s empathy, and then Loki is back, and for a moment Tony’s breath comes out as a quiet whine, before he can help himself.
He gathers up a few scraps of his composure. “Lookin’ for some flattery, Lokes?” he wonders, as he leans his head back while Loki tugs. His words are strained, but there’s a smirk on his face again. “Gotta earn your keep, first. Right, Sunshine?” The last is wondered almost innocently, as he loosely curls his fingers around his restraints, as best he can.
Summer can’t parse what Tony means, right now; she pushes the sides of his shirt aside and bends to finish kissing her way up his body. Purposefully, she avoids any known erogenous zones; no penis, no nipples, no marks around the arc. Gathering up the shirt, she works it up his arms and off; once again the magical bonds pass the fabric cleanly.
She stops, there, the shirt crumpled in her hands and one knee pressed against Tony’s bare side. Stretched out between them, arms pinned over his head and forcing his back into a slight arc, Tony Stark is nude and beautiful. She looks at Loki.