fucky feelings for cuttingremark

[brandingproblem]

(from here)

He keeps his word. He doesn't tell anyone where Loki's hiding out, powerless. Even though he should. At the very least, Thor deserves to know, and when he inevitably finds out, Clint is going to accept whatever anger the thunder god levels at him.

Steve's gone, Tony's dead, Nat's dead, Bruce is...happy and content with his life and doesn't deserve that dropped on him frankly. So. That's all the OG crew accounted for. The new crew would obviously have heard about Loki, but that's not the same as actually being present fighting him or his forces. That Scott guy doesn't count, either. Like, would they do something? Maybe not if he hasn't actually done anything and doesn't pose a threat.

NYPD might have a few choice words, but. Clint tries very hard not to get noticed by the local LEOs if he can help it. Loki isn't really their jurisdiction, and SHIELD is...more or less out of commission even though it still works in the shadows, where Fury and Hill are. Wherever they are.

Which doesn't mean Loki gets of scot free. If he is up to something, then it's up to Clint to suss it out. Clint's mess, as ever. If Loki really is as powerless as it seems, there are still plenty of other ways he could fuck around and cause trouble. So. His responsibility.

It's definitely not whatever lingering connection of magic that binds their minds, not telepathy, not even really empathy, but still. A connection. It might have been severed long ago, but it's as Loki implied: you don't come out of that, something that strong and strange and otherworldly, and not have there be something that remains behind. Therapy has been all well and good. He isn't angry about it, not really, and he doesn't get nightmares the way he used to, after. But also, he's not sure it prepared him for Loki being in his life again. Not just a passing glance, either.

It jumbles everything up. The same type of traitorous thought that had him pondering Loki's sleeping habits and the absurd thought of touching crops up whenever he's near. Something damn near affectionate, something starved. Something that's in Loki, too, and it makes him feel sick. Makes him feel wanting. Which makes him feel sicker.

His eyes might be clear, but his mind feels clouded. Not a great way to show up at the apartment, but he can't just let this pass by without checking in on Loki. That's most of the reason he takes these trips back to NYC in the first place. Occasionally check in on Avengers-y things, see how the cleanup of the compound is up north, catch up with a few people he actually knows. But. It's about Loki.

It's always been fucking about Loki, huh.

He raps on the door, drinks nestled in a holder. Hot tea for Loki, a spiced blend, cloves, cinnamon. Makes him think of wintertime. Makes him think of the spicy and complicated (former?) god. Coffee for himself. Peace offering.

Comments

[brandingproblem]

Well. That's a surprise.

She's gorgeous the same way that he is handsome, and boy that is a dangerous thought to have in that moment. He sets down his coffee harder than necessary on the counter, and when she's done with her little explanation, he points an accusing finger.

"Magic is inherent to your being, too. And you can't tell me that casting disguise self isn't magic. Is that really not magic? Cuz that seems like magic. If people could change their whole," vague hand motion to All Of That, "gender thing on a whim, pretty sure more people would just do it."

[cuttingremark]

"It's...complicated." Loki massages her temples. This is why she didn't mention it to him when he was here last. It's s necessary conversation, now that he's apparently appointed himself her keeper. This is the main way she disguises herself to do things like go to the grocery store, so he was going to find out eventually. Better to get it out of the way now.

"'Magic' isn't some overarching power in the universe. What you call 'magic' can be many things. On Asgard, my reserve of power is a force known as seidr. Something like an ever rejuvenating lifeforce. That is the power that was stripped from me. This," she gestures to herself, "is not an illusion. It is a transformation, one I have been capable of long before I was able to manipulate my seidr."

[brandingproblem]

He does not...necessarily understand that. Magic is not just magic, it's more of an umbrella term for all sorts of things? "Like...different schools of magic? It's kind of magic but it's different from each other?" Even that's probably dumb as shit, and he holds up a hand.

"Okay, so, just. Ground rule this. You can't do magic magic right now. It's like how the runes are kind of magic but in a way that it uses the juju in the air and inherent in the aether or whatever. This is just some internal, inherent thing you can just do, like breathing and blinking. Anything else you can do that may or may not technically be what I might call magic?"

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Loki worries her bottom lip. "It is possible my...heritage affords me certain abilities I have not previously explored. And have no interest in exploring."

[brandingproblem]

"I know this whole thing started because daddy didn't love you and lied to your face, but some might see that as a reason to go exploring that other side."

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"I wouldn't even know where to start." Loki mutters into her tea. "It's not like there's a comprehensive study of Jotun anatomy, culture, and abilities just lying around."

[brandingproblem]

"And you can't exactly go there." For just a whole bunch of reasons.

Contemplative sip of coffee. Calm down. Cool off. This is all weird but it's a weird he can handle.

"Kinda figured you just got doordash for whatever you need, but I guess being cooped up in here would make you go stir crazy." Look at how he's not making any comment on ways women can make good money, too. Definitely not saying it.

[cuttingremark]

"I know you think of me as a spoiled prince," Loki says, changing seamlessly back to his masculine form, "but I do actually enjoy cooking. Having all my meals delivered would be tiresome."

Almost without thinking, he stands and walks over to the counter to lean against it as well. Some of the tension in him eases as he settles closer to Barton.

[brandingproblem]

Loki's tension might ease, but Clint's only gets higher. Thinks of hidden blades, thinks how easy it would be. Thinks of being hurt just to have steady hands patch him up again. Convenient excuse to keep him here. Convenient excuse to touch.

God, he fucking hates this part of his brain that goes all haywire around Loki.

"Nothing like a homecooked meal, I suppose," he says with a quick little fake smile, raising his cup in a mock toast, and moves to the freshly vacated couch. Considers taking said freshly vacated spot, as a show, as a--weird thought about feeling again, no, let's not go there. Go to the other end of the couch. There we go.

"So what happens when you do get your seidr magic back?"

[cuttingremark]

Loki frowns as Clint moves to the couch he only recently vacated. He could try to play it cool. Or he could immediately go back to the couch.

He doesn't even give it a second thought and is back on his side of the couch in a moment.

"If you trust me not to poison you, you are welcome to stay for dinner. I was planning on trying a carbonara recipe tonight."

[brandingproblem]

Great. Cool. Awesome. Now they're both here. He could be petulant, keep this going, stand back up. And then Loki would insist on closing the distance again. Sets the coffee back down, nearly empty anyway, leaves it. Arms on knees. Looks at Loki, looks away again.

It's so amicable. It's wrong. Why doesn't it feel wrong?

"Can't." And then, an amendment: "Shouldn't. Just wanted to pop in, make sure you weren't about to try and attack the city again, leave you be if not." His brow furrows, cocks his head toward Loki but doesn't quite look at him. Peripheral vision.

"I think too much time around you is bad for my health. My brain doesn't know what to do with itself. Tuned into a channel I don't understand."

[cuttingremark]

"Ah, of course." He didn't expect Clint to actually say yes, that is foolish. Of course the man doesn't want to be around his former enslaver. He's just here to make sure Loki is staying in line. There isn't any disappointed note in his voice. Not at all.

"You wouldn't be the first to say I'm bad for your health."

[brandingproblem]

"And you don't seem to think I'm bad for yours."

No. No it's just him, he's the only crazy one here, stupid sad human brain unable to properly deal with what happened and the consequences of it. Is that why Loki's so fucking disappointed he won't stay for dinner?

"The hell do you get out of this?" It's more aggressive than he necessarily means, turning himself fully toward Loki. "What are you after?"

[cuttingremark]

"Connection," Loki says, turning his body towards Clint as well. In turning he also subconsciously brings himself just a bit closer to him.

"You are the only one who knows who I am, who sees me with full context. Even if you look at me with utter disdain, at least you look at me."

[brandingproblem]

"I don't know what that means," he scoffs, knowing what it means. "I don't know a damn thing about you. All I know is stories, and a glimpse of whatever crazy little gremlin was running around behind your eyes. You've got me at a disadvantage. You always have. You saw all of me, and I don't know what I saw."

[cuttingremark]

"You saw more than you think. I didn't have the wherewithal to try to block the connection from backflowing. You think you were confused what you glimpsed? Imagine living in it." He lets out a half-mad laugh, leaning in just a bit closer.

"You see me, Barton. Do you know how long it's been since I heard someone address me by my name?"

[brandingproblem]

"I saw enough. I saw--" Too much. He saw too much, even if he's trying to say otherwise, and that's why he's still not afraid of Loki, only the mad influence behind him. And now that that's long since gone, what's he scared of?

Loki wants to be seen, revels in it, and Clint doesn't want to be seen unless he gives it. Is that it? He's reminded that he is seen, and it leaves him feeling bare and defenseless. And Loki wants to dive in and be felt and heard and seen and understood.

When two souls touch one another, it's impossible to extricate themselves completely. Intermingled, intertwined, a bit of him in Loki, a bit of Loki in him, forever. Somehow knowing each other better than anyone else and not knowing anything at all. It's not a knowledge of facts and figures, but mind, emotion, an intrinsic understanding of the person inside.

When did he start hovering closer? He doesn't remember doing that consciously.

"Pretty sure you last heard it five years and change ago before you died." He'll fight it. With snark, anyway.

[cuttingremark]

What Loki wants to say is that he didn't. Thor was muzzled at the time so all he heard was his muffled screams as Loki gasped for air like a fish on a line. But he doesn't say that. He doesn't say anything, actually.

Like magnets whose forces draw them together with more strength the closer they get, Loki crashes into Clint. Lips crushed onto lips in a fervent need to feel something, anything: the sting of rejection, the sear of a bullet, possibly even the heat of reciprocation. He does not move with rational thought, only a primal want who's only direction is towards the archer.

[brandingproblem]

There's no more fighting it once contact is made. They kiss, or some version of kiss that is deep and primal and without understanding or thought. It's two bodies bashing against each other in a show that is somehow violent and affectionate at once. Clint meets the kiss fervently like he's needed this, like a dying man meeting water, lips yes but also teeth, desperate for more.

His fists bunch in Loki's shirt, and if there's any remote thought of pulling away, he won't allow for it. Just as easily, he could push, could shove, but simply keeps Loki right here. The only pull there is is a separation, just enough to gasp for breath, pressed so close, nose along nose, foreheads touching.

"Get your hands on me," nothing short of a growl. "Right now."

[cuttingremark]

Electricity shoots through his veins when Barton returns the kiss, heat sending a flush of desire to his cheeks and tips of his ears. Though his ears don't comprehend when Clint asks for more, his soul does. In one fluid motion Loki straddles his lap, one hand pushing up the bottom of the other's shirt to feel the soft skin beneath. The other hand moves to fist the hair at the back of his neck, angling their heads just right for Loki to shove his tongue into Clint's mouth.

[brandingproblem]

It's damn near practiced, how smooth the transition, how readily Clint accepts what is given. For the first time since he got here, he seems to relax. There's still a taut tension in him, but of a very different kind. Everything seems to slot into place, and he is a man possessed--not (just) from something inside him, but being possessed by Loki, owned and controlled and seen and beloved. He doesn't understand it and doesn't have to.

He belongs. That seems to be enough.

The hands on him soothe an inner ache he's had since waking up in Loki's bed, the one that made him feel twisted and sick now instead making him feel bold. He lets this perfect-seeming moment go on until he moves, sudden, a surge, until Loki's pinned under him back flat on the couch.

[cuttingremark]

Clint's weight on top of him sooths some jittering part of Loki he hadn't fully realized was there until it suddenly isn't. He arches his back, pressing impossibly closer to Clint as he pushes up his shirt further, exposing more and more skin to Loki's pale fingers.

"Fuck," he whispers against soft lips. Normally he would be talking quite a bit, but part of him is too afraid to break this...whatever this is. "Please." Even he's not sure what he's begging for.

[brandingproblem]

He feels naked even while fully clothed, bare and raw in the best of ways. Loki's eyes seem too bright and yet not blue bright. Not an influence, not directly, but something inside of them left behind by an influence. Dangerous to give in to it, but it's far too late for that.

He's loath to break contact for even a moment, but after that beg, he sits back if only to strip off his top with a few short tugs. Even less gentle with Loki's, pulling tugging he'll rip if he has to until that fabric is off, too. And wastes no time pressing their bodies back together, hands at the god's waist, mouth kissing mouth, jaw, neck, reveling in the taste of skin and the hot beat of a heart just under his lips tongue teeth.

[cuttingremark]

He doesn't have to do much to get Loki's shirt off— as soon as Clint sits up, Loki starts working it up his torso of his own volition. Loki lets out a very undignified whimper as Clint yanks the fabric the rest of the way off. Luckily for him it's mostly muffled by their lips meeting again.

The skin on skin contact is nothing short of glorious. Forget hearing his name, how long had he gone without being touched in a way not meant for battle? This is a battle of it's own, but the fire that races across his skin where they touch is an entire different sort of feeling. His hand go to Clint's back, nails digging into the muscular shoulders as if pinning him in place on top of Loki.

"Yes!"

Terrible, it's terrible and beautiful and he never wants it to end even though it wold probably be better if it did. He could end it too, if he were a stronger person. But Fortitude of character or morals has never been one of Loki's hallmarks so he'll take what he gets until the spell breaks.

[brandingproblem]

It would be better to end it. But that feels so impossible. His teeth want to bite, and then to rip and tear, like digging into Loki's throat and gnawing it out like a wild beast. Love and hate mashing together into something vicious and wonderful.

He doesn't. Only works a bruise into the side of Loki's neck, shivers at the plaintive and praising word out of his mouth. Huffs an abortive noise at the dig of nails into his skin. He can't even say he'd mind if Loki breaks skin. Might prefer it, even. Whatever this is, it's in their blood and in their viscera and their hearts and souls and essence. He tips his head, forehead pressed against Loki's shoulder as he desperately tries to breathe. The fog of need doesn't clear, but he thinks he can see through it a little better. It's very small, the part that's horrified. The rest of him seems to revel in that horror and bundle it into the overall experience like this is exactly what needed to happen. As though this is the natural state of things.

One hand comes up, fitting along the other side of Loki's neck. Where his teeth had itched to go, he traces his thumb along. Presses in. Presses. He can't lean his weight into it, but his hands are strong and steady. Clint's eyes are wide and wild when he looks into Loki's. "I fucking hate your guts," he growls out, words like gravel, almost not words at all, before he licks his way back into Loki's mouth.