Work Text:
They came for him at night.
They were fast, they were prepared, and they struck when he was at a charity gala and far less defended. They even managed to get him alone, the bastards, and without his Tower, the Avengers or his lover; he wasn’t enough of a match.
They didn’t even take him far, it was an unfinished building by the look and smell of it. Tony struggled, but there wasn’t any give in their holds. It was like fighting against Thor, against Loki, and without the suit, he couldn’t break free.
He was forced to kneel by the two men that were gripping his arms with strength enough to bruise. Another man was also there and Tony snarled as he came towards him.
“We have not met,” he explained unnecessarily. His voice was all Lordly arrogance and an undefinable accent that told Tony right away that they weren’t from Earth. “But you will be recompense.”
“Recompense for what?”
“Your lover’s actions.”
The man continued moving closer with tools forming in his hands that made Tony’s blood run cold. “You may inform him our debt is now clear. I cannot take his blood, so I will take yours in its place.” He darted out and gripped Tony’s chin, tilting it up. “Do give Loki my regards.”
Loki arrived at the tower in the early hours of the morning.
He knew Anthony had needed to attend some event or another and while their relationship was known among the populace it wasn’t exactly supported. Had it not been more detrimental for his lover, Loki would have attended at his side, but while he knew that Anthony might want him there no others would and so he refrained.
Anthony had told him he would be obligated to remain until at least midnight and so Loki had finished his own tasks accordingly. (He did not avoid the Tower when Anthony was absent because he missed him, it would be foolish to ever suggest such a thing to him.)
Loki had been distracted however, his mind falling down the more favourable paths of planning how he would greet the mortal. He had relished the idea of tying his lover down and making him beg, making him scream Loki’s name - making him swear his fealty to Loki.
He knew Anthony was always the source of much attention and fawning. He knew stupid mortals thought to try and draw Anthony’s eye - but Anthony knew better than to stray. It didn’t mean Loki enjoyed the way others would come close to him.
Don’t touch my stuff, as Anthony had so aptly put it.
While it was true that neither of them had made any formal commitment to the other, Loki had still made his possession of Anthony known among the Nine Realms. It wouldn’t have effect on Midgardians, but Loki found that he trusted Anthony to stay loyal to him. It had been many centuries since he’d trusted a lover with that.
But darkened memories were not something he wanted to indulge in tonight and so Loki had shaken off those thoughts. He focused more intensely on the future as he brought himself to the tower – only to go tense.
The penthouse was dark.
He drew out a dagger while questioning, “JARVIS?”
There was no response and it only heightened his unease. He sent out a pulse of magic, feeling relief ease the breath from his chest at feeling Anthony’s strong and steady life-force. He was in the bedroom, alone and alive. Loki still moved quickly through the living room to join his lover. He maintained a tight hold on his dagger just in case.
He scanned the penthouse both visually and magically for intruders, but there was nothing. He felt a familiar spark of something faint, but it didn’t seem hostile so he paid it little attention as he entered the bedroom and created a ball of green light. He sent the illumination to hover over the bed and bathe the room in a soft emerald glow.
He found Anthony in a moment; he was on the floor by the bed, staring out of the window that brought in the light of the city. Anthony was shaking.
Loki also registered what he’d dismissed before. Magic. There was someone else’s spell on Anthony and it was holding him on his hands and knees.
Loki saw red. He threw up every ward he’d ever placed on the tower, but especially on their room. He sealed it quickly and tightly so that nothing and no one could get in and stalked over to his lover. He reached Anthony’s side, better sensing the invisible bonds pinning him to the floor - chains Anthony was even now twisting his hands against. His face was also very pointedly trained away from Loki.
Something in that gesture made Loki’s chest twinge, but he studiously ignored it and reached out for Anthony’s jaw in order to turn it. He had barely touched skin before Anthony flinched and made a pained huff through his nose. Loki would have been hurt from his lover recoiling, if his fingers hadn’t felt something crusted - if his fingers hadn’t come away with blood in varying stages of dryness.
“What?” Loki whispered before repositioning himself to kneel directly opposite his lover. Anthony couldn’t hide his face and Loki barely choked off his gasp.
Knowing he was discovered, Anthony shifted slowly, pain casting shadows over his entire face while rage, unhappiness and relief warred for dominance in his eyes as they looked at Loki.
Raising a slightly trembling hand to touch Anthony’s jaw again, he whispered, “Oh Gods, Anthony.”
Guilt and horror were welling up inside his chest as he looked at Anthony’s mouth, knowing undoubtedly that he was responsible. There was no one on Midgard who would target Anthony with such a punishment. There was no one who would strike at Loki so painfully. “I’m so sorry.”
Because what more could he say?
His finger touched the edge of the thread and Anthony flinched. Loki hissed alongside Anthony’s wince as his mouth pulled and caused fresh blood to seep out. “It... it’s magic. I.” Loki swallowed. “I can’t... it must be manual.”
Loki knew the punishment too well, had withstood it himself - and now someone sought to repay their debt on his lover. Gods, Loki would give anything for Anthony to not be suffering through this. Loki would do any deed to erase the image and memory from both of their minds. Loki would accept any alternative if it meant it could all be an illusion, if he didn’t have to kneel before his lover and stare at Anthony's lips sewn shut.
“Anthony,” Loki whispered and moved his fingers to touch Anthony’s cheek. He wanted to cup the other’s jaw, but didn’t want to strain his wounded mouth. He swallowed, fearing to ask a question that he didn’t have faith in anymore. I should have foreseen this, I should have stopped this. “Do you trust me?” He didn’t pause for long. “But I must cut this. I will have care, I will-”
Anthony couldn’t touch him; the bonds kept him on the floor, and he saw Anthony strain against them before letting out a hissing noise followed by a wince. “Stop!” Loki hurried to say, laying the dagger on the floor so that he could touch Anthony’s shoulder with his free hand. “Relax, Anthony. Please. I’ll break your bonds, but your mouth-”
His lover shook his head, almost violently and it must have hurt, especially when Loki didn’t drop his arm in time and Anthony’s jaw caught his wrist. He made a choked off noise and Loki instantly moved forward. He put his hand to the back of Anthony’s neck. He was very careful with how he positioned Anthony, resting his forehead on Loki’s cheek but keeping his mouth from touching anything. He stroked his lover’s hair and murmured softly in Asgardian.
It was a level of affection he didn’t often bestow, but Anthony deserved it; bound, silenced and targeted because of Loki. He would no doubt be furious later, and he would shove away from Loki when he was free - but for now, his state of helplessness would only bring back the horrors of his past. Loki would do all he could to sooth those memories while he was allowed.
“I will undo your bindings first,” he told his lover. “Of course, I will.”
Using the hand not running through Anthony’s hair, Loki changed his whispers from endearments and affection to the words that would counteract the spell that was locking Anthony’s limbs in place. He eyes glowed green as his magic slipped out to attack the curse. He never stopped his touches on the other as he hurriedly unravelled it.
When he felt it snap and fall away, he let out a breath and drew his magic back inside. He was about to move away from Anthony, to put distance between them so that he could start breaking the stitches, when he felt his lover’s arms come around him. They curved around his sides and behind his back. Anthony’s fingers dug into place as he squeezed him as if he feared Loki would disappear.
“Shh,” Loki hushed, keeping the choked emotion from his voice through nothing but sheer force of will. His own arm came around behind Anthony’s back to rub soothing circles for a long moment.
“Come, Anthony.” He eventually told him while slowly encouraging the other to release his hold and move apart. He caught Anthony’s eyes and tried to smile, but Anthony’s expression said he’d failed. “I need to remove the threads before infection begins. It will hurt,” he admitted, “but once it is finished, I will heal you.” He stroked a finger along Anthony’s jaw while promising, “You will not even receive a scar.”
Anthony frowned, something pained and sad, and brought his own hand up, running his fingers over Loki’s lower lip. Loki’s cheek twitched slightly as he knew Anthony was brushing the faint scars he still possessed. “The healing I was given was intentional,” he admitted, “and the time with the thread much longer. It was a lasting reminder. This will not be so.” There was something uncertain lingering in Anthony’s gaze and Loki asked him softly, “Trust me.”
It was often a difficult decision when requested of people by him, but Anthony only seemed to relax at the words. His eyes didn’t even move to the dagger, he stayed locked on Loki’s green gaze as he nodded. He shifted off his knees, but before he could rearrange himself on the floor, Loki conjured pillows as well as a blanket. Anthony’s shivering had stopped, but he still wrapped the comforter around his lover and rearranged him for the procedure. It was the work of moments and worth it for the quirked and amused eyebrow lift he received.
It would also be worth it to give him as much comfort as possible when Loki used his dagger to free Anthony’s lips, and then tweezers to unthread the string. He could not magically numb the area, he could do nothing. Anthony had no intravenous pain medication nearby either, he would have to suffer and Loki hated himself for letting Anthony fall into such a position.
Lifting up the dagger, Loki kept his movements slow, watching Anthony’s eyes follow it. He didn’t look worried; at least, his breathing didn’t even alter. Trust me, Loki had requested, and somehow, Anthony actually seemed to do it. Loki reached forward and held Anthony’s jaw, half to steady him and half because Loki needed the touch.
He stroked his thumb gently, soothingly, as he brought the dagger to his lover’s face. “Hold your tongue down and away from your teeth.” Loki requested and gave Anthony a few moments to comply. “I will cut the centre threads and then move to the others.”
He waited for Anthony’s soft nod before he slipped the tip of the knife between Anthony’s lips. He took exceedingly good care not to nick his lover’s already damaged mouth. The threads had been pierced above and below the lips, and although Anthony had obviously been held in place, he had still struggled and there had been some further damage. He was lucky that whoever had stitched him had taken care to miss veins, and while they had kept the process scarring and painful, they had not made it lethal.
It didn’t mean every hiss and stifled cry wasn’t cutting into Loki’s soul as he sliced away at the threads, gold threads, as if they had known what he adored seeing on his lover. Anthony bathed in candlelight and covered with gold and jewels - laughing at Loki for adorning him in such finery. But how he despised it now; the gold contrasting against the pallor of Anthony’s skin, the blood dropping from his mouth as the flinches had torn at his wounds. There was pain in Anthony’s gaze, and just like he had wrapped him in the riches that befitted the lover of a Prince, the lover of Loki - so had he gifted him with the vengeance that caused him this brutality.
Loki could hardly stand to look at him. The guilt was almost crippling. I did this. I am the cause of his suffering.
He had to blink harshly and closed his eyes for a moment so that he could focus - focus on his lover, focus on healing the damage, not on his own self-hatred for not looking after Anthony better.
When there were only two remaining in the corners of Anthony’s mouth, his lover swallowed. His teeth were still lightly coated with blood, and the pain couldn’t have lessened, but Anthony still tried to speak. “Lo-”
“Don’t,” Loki told him firmly, but he couldn’t meet Anthony’s eyes. “Don’t speak. It will...” he swallowed, feeling a pained noise clawing in his chest as he stared at the half-finished task in front of him, “it will make it worse.”
“Define-” Anthony started, but a sharp glare from Loki made him mulishly fall silent.
Loki still knew Anthony enough to assume the last of the sentence. “The less movement of your mouth, the more ease I will have removing the threads.” He smiled slightly, trying to add something humorous, something light. “I know it is hard, Anthony, but try not to talk.”
Anthony grinned a little, only to have it turn into a wince when it pulled at his mouth. Loki stroked his jaw in comfort before quickly finishing the last of the threads. Loki pulled the dagger away, placing it on the floor beside them while Anthony opened his mouth in increments, hissing through the pain but giving his mouth some of the manoeuvrability it had been denied.
Loki didn’t try to stop him, he simply summoned tweezers, and once Anthony had taken a moment to cease his actions, Loki angled his head just slightly so that he could lean forward and press a soft kiss to Anthony’s forehead. He closed his eyes and held himself with his lips against Anthony’s skin.
When he couldn’t justify the pause any longer, he pulled back and caught Anthony’s gaze. “Do you wish to look for some form of anaesthesia?”
“No,” Anthony answered a little roughly. “Just get it over with.”
Loki nodded before bringing up the tweezers. Anthony was watching the implements with no small level of discomfort, but it had to be done. Loki took Anthony’s chin again and brought the tweezers to his lips. Taking the first strand, he was glad to find they were strong threads, the kind that wouldn’t fray once cleanly sliced. It would be less painful for Anthony that way.
It didn’t mean the first thread didn’t cause blood, a clenched jaw and pain written largely across Anthony’s face. Loki could hardly stand it. His heart ached to wipe it away, while his soul burned to bring fiery revenge down on those who had hurt his beloved.
He wanted to distract him, wanted to ease his suffering. He started talking without consciously planning the action.
“When it was performed on me,” he told Anthony quietly. “I was very young - the equivalent of your twenty-four or so.” He licked his lips, half-remembering the burrowing of the needle. “It was in punishment for my lies. I was held down and I was terrified. The myths, I believe, say it was Thor who performed the task, but that is not true.”
He briefly glanced at Anthony’s eyes, finding him riveted the way he always was when Loki talked about his past. It was rarely done, and even less often was it done honestly, but Loki was willing to share this tale with Anthony - in its entirety.
“I had been caught, you see, and it was done outside the company of my brother and his brainless friends. Although, it was through them that my ruse was discovered, but,” he shrugged, “that is not important. When the guards had finally captured me, I was brought before the leader in that province. I was kept there for some time and was arrogant, unrepentant and unconcerned by my fate.” Loki smiled wanly. “Until Odin’s letter came, allowing them one of their punishments.”
He felt Anthony’s hand come up and grasp his wrist. He paused his motions with the third thread as well as his tale in order to catch Anthony’s eyes. He had been prepared to stop, but all Anthony did was push down his sleeve so that he could rub a thumb against his inner wrist. His eyes pools of anger and sympathy, but he knew better by now than to speak.
Loki gave a rough chuckle. “Yes, Odin’s betrayal was difficult at the time and far less expected than it would be now. I also did not relish learning of it in a crowded assembly. I admit, my masks were not as good as they are now. I was shocked, plainly so, and I had paled upon learning of what I would receive; I was to be a prisoner with the threads in my lips for one week.”
He glanced down at Anthony’s hand until it was removed and he could continue with his task. He soon felt Anthony’s palm move to rest on his thigh, a warm weight and a grounding comfort. Loki almost smiled before he focused back on Anthony’s mouth, letting the third thread fall to the floor and moving on to the next.
“I fought against the decision as you may imagine, tried to charm my way out of it, but my panic was doing my words little favours. I had also been foolish enough to treat those who could have helped me with contempt before my sentencing.” A particularly painful thread made Anthony stifle a cry and Loki rubbed at his jaw in an attempt to soothe, hardly noticing the blood landing on his hand and running down his wrist.
When the worst of the pain had faded, Loki continued with the tweezers and his tale. “My magic might have saved me, but I knew very well how unfavourably my cowardice would be received in Asgard. I would likely be sent back for a far worse punishment. So when I was grabbed, although I struggled, I didn’t teleport.” He scowled, still angry at the indignity all these centuries later. “I was restrained and my mouth sewn in front of public and dignitaries alike.” He let out a breath, pausing only for a moment as he remembered it. “I had never been so scared before; scared for my health, my future and for the pain. I had not experienced much of it then and it was... fairly excruciating.” He blinked and grimaced at Anthony. “It is something I wish you had never experienced.”
Understanding filled Anthony’s gaze and he was sure his lover felt the same for him. It warmed him, even if a part of him still felt undeserving of that sympathy. He pushed on in his story, having finished Anthony’s top lip and moving on to the bottom.
“I had more stitches then you, as you may have noticed from your examination of my mouth.” Anthony’s lips twitched slightly at the wording, attempting to smile but breaking off into pain. Loki paused, letting him recover while also pressing an apologetic kiss to his forehead. When they were ready, he continued, “I was taken back to my cell - which was little more than a monitored and sealed off guest room - and left to my own devices. I still had my magic, and while I couldn’t remove the threads, I could remove any visual monitoring that might have been placed on the room.”
Loki hesitated, wary about giving away the next part of his story, but faced with Anthony’s curious eyes and blooded mouth, he admitted. “I was alone, hurt and betrayed by the man I expected to protect me.” He swallowed and confessed, “I cried.”
Anthony’s eyes widened in shock, but whether that was for the action or the admission, Loki didn’t know and didn’t try to find out. He cleared his throat, the only sign of his discomfort and continued, “I healed rapidly. They could almost have been considered some kind of elaborate jewellery - much like how you mortals pierce yourselves with metal. But, this had been designed to reopen at the same time every day, so that I may,” he grimaced, “re-live my sentence.” Anthony’s fingers dug into his thigh, and it took Loki a moment to realise it wasn’t because of his mouth, but anger and horror at Loki's treatment. Loki smiled softly. “I survived, Anthony and it hardened me. I began to bitterly savour the pain; it fuelled my rage at those who had given it to me and at Odin for allowing such a cruel lesson.”
“The threads were removed before I returned to Asgard, but the story had travelled and preceded my arrival.” He chuckled and Anthony’s eyebrows rose. “Frigga and Thor had been ordered to remain until my return. They greeted me and my scars with horror.” He caught Anthony’s eyes. “They were far more noticeable then and for the next decade. Bright and pink, they refused to heal properly for some time.”
Loki looked back down at the last remaining threads as he concluded his story. “I wore them as a badge of pride during that time. They were a means of creating guilt in Thor and his companions, and for gaining ire towards Odin from Frigga.” He took another moment, swallowing as he let one more personal truth slip free, “I do not think even Frigga realised how much the scars became my own reminder; but it was not to cease lying,” his mouth twitched, “rather, it was to perfect not getting caught.”
Taking the last thread, he coaxed it out of Anthony’s lip. “It was an experience I do not relish, and the time alone and in silence were horrid. The moment my mouth would begin to bleed again was... agonising.” He checked Anthony’s mouth carefully, tilting his chin before letting the hand on his jaw send out magic to slowly heal the wounds. “I’m sorry I did not prevent this. I’m sorry I did not find you sooner. I’m-”
“Stop,” Anthony whispered, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull his hand away.
Loki did halt it, but frowned. “What? Is there thread remaining?” He tilted Anthony’s jaw higher. “Can you feel something disrupting the process?”
“No,” Anthony shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t want you to heal it.”
“What?” Loki asked tonelessly, feeling dread well up inside him. A reminder. A reminder of all the ways you’ve failed him. “I didn’t...” Loki swallowed. “It will not happen again,” Loki assured him, moving in closer to promise. “I swear to you, Anthony. Nothing further will come from my past to haunt you, I give you my word. I will swear with mag-”
Anthony was smiling towards the end and he leant forward and caught Loki’s mouth with his blood-stained only half healed lips. Loki pulled back, aghast. “Anthony, infection. Mortal wounds are for more likely to-“
“Then heal me you brat,” Anthony argued, but just kept leaning in to kiss him again. The taste of copper was on Loki’s lips as he found himself unable to stop from kissing back for those few moments before Anthony detached them. “Just keep the scars.”
“I.” Loki frowned. “Why?”
“Because it’s like you said,” Anthony told him while climbing into Loki’s lap with the blanket still around his shoulders. “They taught you not to get caught. I want these to tell me that no matter how fucking terrified I am, no matter how much fucking danger shows up,” Anthony smiled and held Loki’s gaze, “that you’ll be coming to find me.”
Loki’s mouth dropped open before he hauled the other man against him. He cupped Anthony’s cheeks and poured magic into him, healing every possible piece of damage while leaving the markings he requested.
He kissed him deeply and emotionally; his tongue sliding into Anthony mouth, uncaring of the blood as long as Anthony was touching and kissing him back. When they finally pulled apart they were panting and Loki couldn’t help bringing his fingers up to trace the scarring.
Anthony shivered, and for all that he looked well, Loki could see the experience was still haunting him. Loki made a quick decision and stood, picking Anthony up with him and making him flail before wrapping himself around Loki.
“What-?” his lover tried to ask, but Loki just pressed a kiss to his neck and walked them towards the bathroom.
“We are going to share a bath and I am going to pleasure you with my mouth. I can spell myself to breathe underwater, you know,” Loki told him casually, hearing Anthony's breath catch. “I am going to show you just why my mouth is as wicked as they say, and when you are unable to form a single thought, we shall retire to bed.” He sucked gently on Anthony’s neck. “And then, in the morning, you are going to come with me to Vanaheim where we will seek to repay those who would dare to harm us.” He pulled back and caught Anthony’s already darkening eyes. “Is that alright, my love?”
Anthony mouth fell open, going slack with surprise at the term Loki had used, the specific term he had chosen. He held his breath as he waited for Anthony to answer.
He saw the mortal swallow thickly before he replied, his voice rough for an entirely different reason. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fucking fantastic.” He smiled and tasted the word on his tongue, “Love. Yeah, yeah, it’s going to be great my love.”
Loki let out his relief in one careful sigh before he encouraged Anthony to lean down and catch his mouth in another kiss that he let himself get momentarily lost in. He knew that before they could bathe Anthony would need to switch on JARVIS and regain the protection his home offered, but once he was done, Loki planned on living up to each of his promises.
He also planned to savour with some delight, the words that had fallen from their lips; my love. Their commitment was mutual and Loki planned on assuring the rest of the universe just how dedicated they were to each other. He meant to inform those worlds that if someone touched, let alone hurt one of them, that the wrath that would fall on them would be swift and brutal.
The combined rage they would let loose would be devastating, and it would leave something on their enemies that would be far, far worse than mere scars.