"I could still take out your heart. I could still eat it. You can still die." A breath. Hold it. Let it go. "You're going to die. You just won't be dead." Dream is not reality. He's killed Loki in dreams, just not as often as the other way around or worse. This doesn't have to mean more than that.

It does. But it doesn't have to.

"This isn't a ritual. You're in my head. Begging for a fuck that's only as real as the mind's eye makes it. You're walking in my dreams, where I've got some power. That doesn't make this--"

He's crying. Loki is crying, and Clint doesn't understand any of this anymore. If he ever did to start. "It's your fantasy. But it's my dream." Why is he crying? Tears and blood are mingling and dips in close to lick some of the mess up. Everything is muddled and complicated and confused and maybe he should just wake up and leave them both unfulfilled, a petty desire.

"Why should I give you want you want?"