Tag Archives: mischiefandflyte

It’s one of those gorgeous lucid dreams — the kind where a part of her is awake, struggling to hold on to what she sees. She’s dreaming of a wood: unfamiliar, old growth, wide spaces beneath the tall trees. And there is Loki, on the edge of the glade.

She doesn’t know which Loki; she knows so many, now. He changes, in that way that dreams do; now heartbreakingly young, now subtly marked with the weight of millennia. Always tall, so tall. Long hair, short hair; armoured, casual.

She cannot see his face. If she could see it, she might know — is she here for love, or hate? To die, or live?

In a dream, it could easily be both. Or neither.

She calls his name.

They didn’t always share a bed. Hell, some nights Tony didn’t come to bed at all. She spent those nights in her own suite, sprawled across the blankets, cats heaped up over her feet. Presumably Loki did the same, though sans cats. She didn’t know.

Mostly, though, they did. All three of them, jumbled together in Tony’s huge bed. Tony in the centre, both to help him feel safe enough to sleep and so he couldn’t sneak away. Loki on the side towards the door, often on his back, one hand flung toward Tony. Summer on the other side, tucked up close to Tony.

Sex didn’t actually happen as often as some people might expect. They actually spent a lot of time simply piled across each other’s laps, talking softly, cuddling, petting.

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

mischiefandflyte:

iamthefirechild:

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.”

He’s got them both at his mercy. What a lovely feeling — though Summer’s got a way with her mouth that brings the idea of mercy into question. Perhaps she can use that mouth on him while he is teaching Tony patience. The thought jolts lust through his veins.

Loki makes certain to keep a hand on Tony, even while Summer is attempting, apparently, to unravel his brain; it will be interesting to see just how much of a voyeur Tony is. Even when virtually looking through someone else’s eyes. “Undress him,” he tells Summer, squeezing her hand briefly before guiding it to the genius’ belt. “The magic will allow the passage of clothing; it restricts only our lover’s flesh. Disrobe him, and share your special magic. Let us see to what frenzies we may drive ourselves.”

He draws away to sit wide-legged in a nearby chair, calling a soft-tipped flogger to his hand and running the tassels through his fingers.

He can’t see the kiss, but he can feel it, or feel it as they do, rather, and he’s rapidly deciding that’s just as nice, before the kiss breaks.

Tony makes a discontented noise as Loki moves, and it gets quieter in his head, just as he had been getting used to the noise.  He latches onto Summer’s presence all the more firmly instead, and falls curiously still as it floods through him.

He can sense both of them again, through Summer’s empathy, though Loki is fainter now and less three dimensional.  And again it’s surreal, looking at someone’s mental image of someone else, and he wonders if he could just layer mental images together and get an honest reflection, but he doubts he has any sort of time to play around with that.  Besides, Summer’s empathy was proving too distracting to truly focus on much else.  He can even sort of sense himself through it, and for a moment he gets distracted chasing that in a circle, before he tugs once, harshly, on his wrists’ bindings to ground himself and focus on Summer properly.

“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.

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

mischiefandflyte:

iamthefirechild:

“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.”

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

mischiefandflyte:

iamthefirechild:

***

Summer is half-drowsing, book tipped over on her chest, when her phone goes off. She stretches for it, tumbling the book onto the floor, and clicks the screen open.

[text from: Glowheart] Your presence is requested in the penthouse for nefarious purposes as soon as possible.

The phrasing is clearly Jarvis’. She rolls her eyes a little.

Nefarious purposes. That could mean anything from science run rampant to Tony attempting to cook. Flopping wholly off the couch to her feet, she tidies up the book and heads for the Tower. She goes in the front door, just so she can quiz Jarvis about what’s going on.

Loki is busy taming Tony while they wait for Summer. He steers his prisoner to the bed and pins him flat, stretching Tony’s arms overhead and kissing him. “It’s clear the last lesson didn’t stick,” he says, casting the same little spell to bind the hands. He doesn’t want Tony immobile — far from it. But Tony is not going to be allowed to escape Loki’s plans, either. It’s a sequence of magic the trickster hasn’t used in far too long — hands bound together and over the head, feet bound apart, eyes bound against sight. For the moment, it doesn’t matter that Tony is yet clothed.

Tony might have been uncomfortable with just how quickly he found himself bound and blinded, if not for his contact with Loki making it so he had some idea of when it was all coming.  Instead, he simply thrashes against the bindings, out of some perpetual need to be contrary and to see if they would hold.  “But you like me just the way I am,” he replies, silky and saccharine, “or you wouldn’t put up with my bullshit.”  He lifts his head, trying to aim for another kiss, but with just his hearing to go by, he misses and winds up catching the god’s chin, instead.

Distracted as he is, he doesn’t quite catch Jarvis’s announcement that Summer has arrived at the tower.

“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.

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

mischiefandflyte:

“Simple, yet effective.” Tony’s demanding kiss interrupts him, though Loki doesn’t mind. He minds even less at Tony’s next words. Clasping his free hand over the one clenched in his shirt, he smiles a slow, sharp smile, then spins the engineer swiftly until his back is pressed to Loki’s front and one long pale hand holds both brown wrists.

“Do you remember learning patience? I think today is a perfect time for another lesson.” He makes Tony walk toward the bedroom, tracing the fingertips of his free hand over the genius’ jaw and mouth.

Tony is taken off guard by the abrupt change of position for only a moment, and he wiggles his wrists in Loki’s grip more out of habit and instinct than any desire to free himself.  To be entirely honest, freeing himself is rather far from his mind at this point.

“Not sure how well that last lesson stuck,” he comments wryly, tipping his head back to look at the god, winding up with his head against the trickster’s shoulder and a view of Loki’s profile as he’s herded along.  “I’d ask what sort of lesson, but I think I’m getting a pretty good idea here.”

***

Summer is half-drowsing, book tipped over on her chest, when her phone goes off. She stretches for it, tumbling the book onto the floor, and clicks the screen open.

[text from: Glowheart] Your presence is requested in the penthouse for nefarious purposes as soon as possible.

The phrasing is clearly Jarvis’. She rolls her eyes a little.

Nefarious purposes. That could mean anything from science run rampant to Tony attempting to cook. Flopping wholly off the couch to her feet, she tidies up the book and heads for the Tower. She goes in the front door, just so she can quiz Jarvis about what’s going on.

mischiefandflyte:

Loki wonders what it might feel like not to suffer boredom. He is currently sprawled out across the most comfortable couch in Tony’s penthouse, vaguely pondering what to do with his time now that he has finished his most recent research. Perhaps he could take up sparring again. Or perhaps Tony will permit him the use of some of the equipment in the workshop to craft weaponry again. He does feel undressed without a few knives.

Summer wanders in, planning to spend the afternoon reading here, because the penthouse gets far better sun than her own little apartment far below. She stops short on seeing Loki. “Sorry. I was just going to read for a bit … is it okay? I don’t want to bother you.”