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The air smelled of smoke and cheap beer. The ceiling was low, the wooden beams darkened with soot and age. It was dim, lit only with a few wall sconces, leaving enough dark edges for many alcoves to be left fully obscured by the shadows. And yet, Tony felt safe.
Of course, he did. This was Fury’s domain, and one would have to be a fool or a complete moron to break the unspoken truce held in the Shield’s Inn.
Which was exactly the reason why he was here tonight.
Some shady characters could only be spoken to under that reassuring umbrella… for both parties’ sake. Tony might be a human, but he was no pushover. He’d dusted and smoked his fair share of beasts and creatures in his time, and he’d more than earned the reputation he held in these parts. The Iron Man, the one no creature had managed to kill no matter how hard they tried, and how fiercely they hated him. Beasts and demons from the Ten Rings of Hell had tried, had summoned him to their plane and held him captive for months, and he’d turned Hellfire back against them. Or so the legend said.
Tony didn’t mind the rumors that spread about him, and that one was mostly true anyway. The greater his reputation, the more power his name held. Part of a magician’s trade was his clout and his ability to bluff his way out of most situations. And if Tony had something in spades, it was bluster.
Of course, he also had magic, and knowledge, and a fair amount of cleverness and experience, but really, his ability to bullshit his way out of a standoff between a pack of angry werewolves and an army of hellbeasts all out for his blood was something he was quite proud of.
But today, no amount of genius or guile would help him solve this mystery. In fact, there was no way he would be able to figure this out on his own.
When the police department had contacted him for the murder, he’d first thought them mad. Either that or it was one more trick to expose him as a fraud and run him out of business.
Still, he’d given them a chance. He couldn’t really coast on his inheritance for his entire life, after all, and while his tinkering was quite lucrative, that wasn’t really what he was supposed to make a living with.
But, as it happened, the cops had come with a valid request, and a case that did involve supernatural and magical forces. Things that Tony was uniquely suited to solve; and stuff that he could decidedly not do alone.
Tony wasn’t exactly your typical run-of-the-mill wizard detective, after all. He had to be the most technologically advanced magic-user in the states — which wasn’t really a prowess considering how little technology agreed with magic — but he was also more high-tech than the rest of regular humans, which was slightly more significant. He’d always had something of a knack for machines. An ‘affinity for technomancy’, his old master had said, before things had turned sour between them.
Which, in turn, made most ancient artifacts dislike him on principle. And without old artifacts and access to the Library; some things became rather tricky. Whatever knowledge he got, he usually had to ask someone to give him. For most things, Tony didn’t really care, it did not affect his craft. He was quite knowledgeable, after all, and he’d received extensive tutoring since quite young. Most arcane lore was old news, and what he didn’t know, he could figure out through pure genius, and compensate with raw power if there were any ‘frayed edges’ to his incantations. Most times, he was also able to create technological aids for his spells, an uncanny blend of magic and technology that left most beings floundering for how ridiculously unlikely and rare they were.
But sometimes, if rarely, it just wasn’t enough. Sometimes he required information on a very specific thing that he had no previous knowledge about; and no references to in files.
Hence his presence at Shield’s Inn.
Not that it was easy to obtain minutiae of the craft. After all, a mage’s greatest power was the wealth of information at his disposal, some of which was jealously guarded. And a mage’s greatest defense was in obfuscation, mostly of his own weaknesses.
And ignorance was a glaring one.
But Tony did not have much choice there. He’d gotten his first official (semi-official) commission from an established public institution. He needed this to work. Else, he’d lose all credibility (or what little he did have). He had no other recourse.
And no one else he could ask.
The vampire was rather well known amongst the Inn’s regulars.
And quite disliked as well.
Which was understandable. Those who dealt in magic dealt in mysteries. Nothing was more precious to a mage or to a creature of the realms than their secrets, be it their names, their skills, or their weaknesses.
And the vampire dealt in just that. Offered favors and help, in exchange for knowledge in return.
Or open-ended favors, which was even less liked. No one enjoyed having debts left unpaid. Not when the debtor was quite so powerful and ruthless. And exacting in his deals. No one lived to double cross him and tell the tale, not with that one .
Nothing left wizards or creatures more uncomfortable than someone having such an obvious upper hand over them, a glaring weakness in their defense, a fatal flaw in their mask. Especially when it was on such an unequal footing.
Because there were only ever three things known about him.
First, his name was Loki.
Second, he was a very, very old vampire. Which meant that he was very, very powerful.
And third, he was insanely knowledgeable. About everything. And quite willing to offer up his expertise, so long as one was willing to pay the price.
Besides that, there was nothing. Or at least, nothing that was confirmed as truth. Anyone old enough to have seen or lived the truth was either dead or too tight-lipped to talk. (Though, it was mostly the first. Tony had yet to hear about anyone else as old.)
And wherever there was a vacuum of information, rumors filled in the blanks with the wildest stories.
Some people said he ate children at night - which was ridiculous. Fury had a strict policy about minors, and anyone who targeted kids ended up mysteriously disappearing. Not that he was entirely certain who would win between Loki and Fury, but the uneasy truce between the two would certainly not have the same vibe if Loki was a child-killer. This was more of a ‘boogeyman’ sort of fable, told to warn off the wary and to scare the more impressionable of the green magelings.
Others said that he had children - which wasn’t nearly as wild a tale. Vampires rarely got that old without getting a few Childers, if only to combat the loneliness of centuries. Though if that was the case, no-one could tell who they were.
A few other stories said he’d killed a Titan, that he’d crossed the entire world twice in search of an artefact of power, that he’d been the one to whisper the secrets of magic to the first wizards, that he’d actually become immune to fire and sunlight. Or that he was the harbinger of the apocalypse and had the power to raise an army of undead at will.
Separating facts from fiction became harder and harder the more one tried to make sense of those tall tales.
Which left Tony decidedly uncertain. The first rule of wizardry was to always be prepared, after all. Even when you didn’t look it. But how did you prepare for meeting a legend? A myth made flesh? Someone who, essentially, didn’t have anything known about them?
In the end, he didn’t.
After all, sometimes, one had to run before they walked.
And even when he didn’t have any of his gadgets with him — or at least none that would suffice against someone of that caliber —, he always had his wits. And, hopefully, that would be enough.
But Tony always had luck on his side — when his old teacher wasn’t selling out his True Name to the Legions —, and he was good at thinking on his feet. He should be fine.
That’s what he was telling himself when he drank his coffee, and when he tipped his hat to Fury before heading towards the dark corner where everyone knew the vampire dwelled. It was basically his open front for setting up his deals, since it was virtually impossible to get a hold of him any other time.
That was still what he was telling himself when red glinted at him from the darkness and a voice invited him to take a seat. He was still thinking everything would be fine when he spoke his True Name as though Tony handed it out to anyone who came about.
“Anthony Edward Stark. Welcome.”
Tony could deal with that. He’d known he was outmatched.
And then his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
And he realized that he was fucked.
***
There was something to be known about Tony. Well, there were many things to be known about Tony, most of which would never reach anyone’s ears, since wizards (usually) guarded their secrets better than capitalists magnates guarded their wealth.
But Tony was a hedonist. And he had a type. Tall, dark, and dangerous. With an air of mystery, and a smirk that spelled trouble. Pretty, and tall, and did he say dark already?
Yeah, he didn’t know why he’d thought ‘crusty and dusty’ when he heard about the old as bones vampire, but he’d thought crusty and dusty and the truth was such a whiplash of handsome and devilishly charming that Tony needed a serious moment to adjust.
Loki let him have it, magnanimously, though Tony could detect a hint of amusement into those red eyes. Here it was, the proof of that age. In those eyes.
They looked ancient, as though he’d seen the entire world already, everything that merited to be seen, everything of worth, the best and worst humanity had to offer. Those were the eyes of someone who had learned everything there was left to learn, and had grown ridiculously bored with life, and instead found their entertainment through the observation of the lives of the ants scuttling around them.
Tony was good at being entertaining. Hopefully, it would be enough to get him out of there in one piece.
“I heard that you’d taken a ‘detective job’, little wizard?”
Tony shuddered. Loki’s voice was smooth and cultured, a snarky edge that betrayed casual arrogance and the barest hints of interest.
Tony wanted that voice to whisper naughty things in his ear as Loki made him fall apart under his hands.
He cleared his throat. He came here with a purpose, and that goal was not to seduce the pretty vampire who was powerful enough to smite him with a blink.
The vampire who knew his True Name. And who was being kind enough to steer him gently back to the conversation at hand.
“Yes,” Tony breathed in, taking a moment to situate himself. “The cops got themselves a creature who uses runic arrays to disintegrate everything in their path, and I think the tongue is Old Lunekrathian, but I have no way to check, and old languages were never my thing.”
Red eyes glinted at him deviously, “So you’re only asking for a specific consultation, is that right?”
Tony shifted on his seat, suddenly feeling as though he was in way over his head. “Yes?”
A sharp smirk let the tip of a white canine show through. “That does not seem very sustainable, you know?”
“No?” Tony had no idea what Loki was getting at, but he suddenly found himself entirely wrongfooted. He had lost all control of the situation from the moment he saw those eyes shining in the darkness. If he ever had any.
“Do you plan on trading with me each time you find yourself confronted with materials you find yourself unable to obtain or research by your own means?”
Tony glanced away, abashed. He hadn’t been made to feel that way since he’d been a teen in college, being caught red-handed filling the gym showerheads with red dye.
“It doesn’t happen that often!” But the defense was weak, he knew that.
It happened often enough that Tony had had to find workarounds for most things, and quite a few people had started cottoning on to his inability to use the Library. It was becoming dangerous. A liability.
But what other choice did he have?
“Are you refusing to help me, then?” If Loki did, then he would need to find other avenues to figure this out. He couldn’t afford to waste his time here.
“No,” Loki said, his smile hungry and triumphant, “Quite the contrary, little wizard.”
A pause, purely for the sake of added drama. And it worked, too, Tony was at the edge of his seat, desperate to know what trap Loki was merily leading him to. He barely resisted the urge to prompt him to go faster.
“I am offering you something else, instead.” Loki continued, “Something you might not even realize you need.”
Cryptic.
“Really?” Tony wasn’t surprised, but couldn’t magical folk be straightforward for once?
Tony let it play out. Pick your battles.
“Quite.” Loki picked up his teacup, bringing it to his lips. Tony watched those long elegant fingers, fascinated. He hadn’t even realized there was a teacup on this table. In fact, there was one just before him. Loki gestured to it, invitingly.
Tony picked it up, the gesture almost automatic.
It tasted nice. Floral. Not like blood, or the bitter almond taste of most potions. Tony wasn’t a tea person, but he could get used to drinking this.
Why had he drunk something without even checking what it was?
He put it down hurriedly, but Loki’s smirk told him that his misstep had been noted already.
Foolish. Loki was too powerful to need to resort to trickery to curse him; and Fury’s truce held over beverages too. He should have played it straight, bluffed that it had been his own choice, not the automatic reaction of ‘wanting to please’ that had been ingrained into him. That he’d been confident enough to drink, even without making sure.
Better a confident fool than an indecisive one. Especially when it came to magic.
But Loki was playing with him, like the cat batting at a juicy mouse, seeing it squirm and skitter out of his grasp before catching it at the last moment.
That was fine. He was fine. He’d just made a fool of himself, but Loki had seen too many aeons to base his opinion on that kind of trifles, hadn’t he?
Tony picked the drink back up, a trickle of magic informing him that this was a herbal concoction, one that had some form of magic overlaying it, but not one of a nefarious nature. Something about cleared minds and relaxation, maybe?
He took another sip.
Loki started talking again.
“I admit, I have heard quite a bit about you. Your case has intrigued me for quite a few years, and I was content to stay on the sidelines to watch, but if you come to me for help, then I suppose it is fairer to ask you if you should not wish for something else instead.”
“My case?” Tony frowned. He was a semi-regular wizard, perhaps a bit down on his luck currently, but there was nothing truly exceptional about him.
“Your technomancy, Anthony.”
Tony shivered at the way Loki’s tongue rolled over his Name. That was weirdly intimate.
“Technomancy? You mean my affinity for it? Obie said something about that.”
“Oh but it is more than just an ‘affinity’, Anthony. You are a Technomage, a budding one at that. I see you’ve already started to make use of your powers, but there is no telling where the limits of your craft could go. You could change the world, little wizard.”
Tony put his cup down and narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to sell me something?”
Loki chuckled, “Of course I am. Everyone is always trying to sell something to someone. You came here seeking my help, and I would not mind offering it, but on my own terms.”
That… was promising. And slightly less cryptic than previous.
“What would those be? Because I swore I would never use my powers to create weapons, and no matter what deal you offer, I won’t budge on that.”
Tony was completely being played. He knew he was. But he had principles, and he would cling to those to his last breath.
Loki chuckled. “I have no need for any weapon you could create.”
That made sense. Loki hardly needed anything to make him more powerful than he already was. And to be fair, the idea of Loki needing any sort of weapon was quite a scary one.
He supposed his first guess of a very bored immortal needing something to spice up his eternal tedium was slightly more reassuring. So long as his way of finding entertainment wasn’t at Tony’s expense.
“Then what? Because clearly, you want something from me. Something specific, otherwise you would not have bothered with this setup.”
“Can’t I simply be interested? You are quite clever, for a mortal. A genius, I am told, and one with an unheard of affinity for magic, an untapped potential, only curbed by your own lack of knowledge, and the ridiculous way artifacts react in your presence. What’s not to like?”
“I’m sorry?” Tony must be hearing wrong.
Loki’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Does it seem so impossible to believe? Why, I would have thought you more daring.”
Tony made a strangled noise. He knew Loki had noticed his attraction. He just hadn’t thought he would be called out on it. More fool he.
“I-” What was there even to answer that? Flirt back? Change the subject? Denial was a terrible idea: if there was one thing Loki was known to hate more than people reneging from their side of a deal, it was people lying to his face. “Is that really why you’re offering… whatever it is you’re offering?” Because the specifics were still quite unclear.
“I’m offering to be your mentor. Your patron, and your teacher whenever you require it.”
That was unexpectedly generous. In fact, it was a ridiculously good offer.
A mentor was bound by oath and magic to help and protect their student. To offer them any guidance they required, and to do whatever they could to ensure their pupil would reach the height of their potential.
Obie had actually used the title, though it had been yet another elaborate lie: he’d been his teacher, and his godfather, which had its own weight, but never a mentor. It had taken him a while to understand what had happened, to figure out that, for all that Obie had used the title, it hadn’t made it true. Because while he’d called himself his ‘mentor’, he hadn’t spoken the pledge, nor followed the rites.
Because Obie just hadn't wanted to be bound by any sort of rule that would protect Tony’s interests, that would safeguard him.
And a patron would simply provide for their protege; whatever they needed for them to keep creating to their heart’s content.
This was, in truth, everything Tony could have never hoped to have. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, something he could not afford to pass up on. Priceless. And much too good to be true.
“And for what price?”
Loki’s smile sharpened.
Tony had agreed, of course he did, even if he hadn’t really understood what Loki had meant with ‘companionship.’ It had certainly not sounded nearly ominous enough for the deal with the devil he’d been making. He felt a bit like he was signing away his soul and hadn’t yet found the small print to the contract - even though he had yet to sign it.
And then he understood.
“Mentorships need close quarters to be effective, after all.” Loki was lounging in Tony’s armchair, looking comfortable as he pleased while invading Tony’s home.
Vampires weren’t supposed to be able to cross thresholds so easily. Even one as powerful as Loki would show mild discomfort invading someone’s home uninvited.
But Loki wasn’t uninvited. They were bound in a non-aggression pact, in a mentorship contract. And that meant Loki had complete access to his entire life; Tony had basically handed him a free pass into his home. There were no protections, no binding circles he could set down that would affect Loki now.
Loki smirked. He looked awfully good doing that, powerful, lethal, and even more beautiful in the comfortable lighting of Tony’s apartment.
Tony resigned himself to his fate.
The case was solved within a day.
Loki probably held more condensed knowledge than even the Great Library; and Tony didn’t even need to search for hours in order to find hints of what he was searching for. And Loki also didn’t explode under his hands. That was a bonus. He might still bite, though, but Tony was pretty sure it would be nicer to be bitten by Loki than by a book. He tried very hard not to think about it. He couldn’t afford to keep fantasizing about someone who had more or less one sidedly decided they would be his roommate.
The cops had been reluctantly impressed. The lieutenant had let him know he’d be on-call from then on for all their consulting needs.
There were stories about vampire bites. And about vampires in bed. And about vampire allure. Tony had asked only once to a young witch out of a drinking club why he came to that place, because for all that Tony knew about mundane drugs, he had never understood the need some had to put themselves under a thrall.
The witch had laughed at him, his blue eyes a little manic, pupils still dilated by whatever it was in vampire venom that had hooked him so badly. “It’s the best damn feeling in the entire world. You thought being high was good? You thought having sex was good? You ain’t ever been bitten, man.”
Tony had dismissed it as the words of a junkie.
But he thought about those words often, these days.
Loki was a pain in the ass.
For one thing, he was really clever. Insanely clever. Talking with him was always a challenge, a game of wits and guile and a tightrope between sarcasm and respect.
It became much easier when Tony had stopped being so ridiculously intimidated.
It also became an addictive sort of thrill. A verbal spar, conversations that could last for hours without Tony feeling bored, without the nagging sense that the one he was talking to just didn’t get it, that he needed to force himself to slow down if he wanted any chance of being understood.
It was freeing. It was exhilarating.
It was excruciating.
How could Tony possibly hope to get a handle on his ridiculous attraction when every conversation with Loki made him want to marry his brain?
And Loki knew it. He probably could hear the way Tony’s heart started pounding at his smirks, read the way Tony’s eyes followed the path of his hands, or the way Tony slightly leaned forward, as though pulled in by the dangerous magnetism that followed Loki. As though everything around the vampire became sharper, brighter.
Probably the effects of condensed magic, an impossible amount of power contained in such a comparatively small shape.
Not that Loki was small by any reach of the imagination. He might not be large, but he still was lithe and muscled, and remarkably tall, at least a good head taller than Tony was. (Tony had absolutely not been fantasizing about Loki crowding him against a wall, and caging him in with his greater height. Definitely not.)
But the sheer, unadulterated power he exuded was enough to make Tony feel high on a good day. Most of the time, Loki kept it under tight wraps, but even the muffled echo of it was enough to turn his head if Tony wasn’t careful.
He’d never felt the full power of it unleashed, and he hoped he never would. He didn’t want to imagine what it would take for Loki to lose control like that, it was too terrifying for words.
The worst thing was -
Loki didn’t bother him. Not even when he invaded his space, slinked into his workshop like a feline on the prowl and put his fingers everywhere in his craft. He was ridiculously respectful of Tony’s cleverness and insight. Always encouraging in his words, and impossibly insightful in his advice and queries.
Tony never let anyone see him work. He never let anyone tell him how he should do his work.
And yet, when Loki gave him suggestions, careful, subtle hints to follow, Tony found himself implementing them without even thinking about it.
It wasn’t a thrall, or a mesmer. Tony had checked, Loki had never tempered with his mind, not once. Not even in that first meeting when he’d found himself so tongue-tied, had he been unable to handle proper negotiations.
That was just Loki’s sheer charisma and aplomb that had trumped Tony’s in an almost debilitating way. Or perhaps the aura of strength and authority that followed him. Regardless, Tony was getting used to that, if slowly. He was being less and less intimidated.
In fact, cohabitation with Loki was actually pretty okay.
Which was exactly why it was such a pain in the ass.
Because Loki was fascinating. He was beautiful, sexy, and dangerous, his brain made Tony want to sell his soul away, and all in all, his entire existence was almost designed to drive Tony completely mad with repressed desire.
No matter what, Tony could not give in.
He just had trouble reminding himself why he couldn’t simply go ahead and try seducing the pretty vampire lounging on his worktable.
It would be a long day.
Having a powerful and renowned mentor made many things much easier. Things Tony hadn’t realized were even complicated. Doors opened for him that he hadn’t even known existed, people showed him respect he never had before, clients came to his door for commissions, for investigations, for counsel. And they paid very well.
It was as though he’d just unlocked life in ‘easy mode’.
It threw him off balance, but he didn’t want to spit in the face of good fortune when it finally showed itself. Being well-respected felt good, even though he sometimes felt as though he only ever was because of the looming shadow of Loki’s presence somewhere in the background.
And yet, Loki insisted that it was Tony’s own skills that they came seeking, and that made them come back to his door. Loki’s patronage might have given him a bit of publicity, but it was only that. One single boost, due mostly to their own curiosity.
“And regardless, it was your own potential and craft that prompted me to make you that offer. Had you not been such a brilliant and clever wizard, had you not worked so hard to develop your talent for technomancy, I would have never bothered with you. Any benefit you gain from my presence, you owe to your own merit.” Loki said.
And that had been that.
He learned so much. It was amazing. Most times, Loki did not even seem as though he was teaching him, but Tony still noticed, small hints, questions thrown in the air that made him rethink his previous stances on magic, that made him question the fabric of reality as he’d known it.
Sometimes it was more obvious. Loki taught him old runes and symbols of power. Languages he’d previously dismissed now making sense in a way he could use. Patterns he would imprint into motherboards and other circuitry, symbols he could hetch into metal, rhythms and numbers he already knew, but now projected onto another entirely new layer of potency.
It was brilliant.
Tony had never thought there was so much to learn. Had never thought learning could be so easy, that it could be something he could do naturally instead of forcing his brain to consume huge walls of text and force himself not to fall asleep while trying to decipher boring academia linguo.
Loki was just so brilliant.
Tony might be starting to hero-worship him a little.
But who else would be able to teach the potentialities of welmar particles by playing a game of checkers?
He was going to die.
Tony was going to implode, his self control would snap, his heart would give out, he would lose his goddamned mind.
Why was Loki shirtless?
Loki smirked at him from where he was lounging on the sofa, the ancient tome held over his head between two of his long fingers incredibly tame. Whenever Tony approached the book it started growling, but in Loki’s hands it was purring softly. After all the trouble Tony went to obtain it, that was ungratefulness at its finest.
“Why- ?” Tony cleared his throat, forcing his traitorous eyes away from the broad and enticing expanse of Loki’s chest, “What brought this on?”
Loki was usually so very proper, dressed to the nines, and covered from neck to toe. More often than not, even his hands were gloved, and Tony had started to consider bare hands like Loki’s version of casual dress.
And then, this happened.
“What brought what on?” Loki asked, his face the perfect picture of innocence.
Tony dragged his eyes back (again!) from the well-defined musculature of this unblemished chest, and up to Loki’s glittering eyes. Green, this time, but no less disarming than red, and just as mischievous. He was clearly laughing at him and his discomfiture, lips twitching with mirth, almost daring him to act on his impulses.
Tony gulped, and left the room.
He couldn’t be held accountable if he’d remained any longer in the presence of a shirtless Loki.
The cops kept to their word. They called again when there was a case, and again. Tony started becoming semi-familiar with all of them, and most cases were easily solved with a few magician tricks. Something way beyond mundane means, but still pretty easy for Tony. Especially now, with Loki’s tutoring.
Still, once in a while, he came before things that stumped him. But this time, he didn’t think he could afford to take the time to think it through, or to even just wait till he was home to ask Loki.
Instead, he took hold of his amulet, the one Loki had gifted him after the ritual that had bound them as mentor and pupil.
‘Loki?’ He sent the message along their bond, feeling the amulet come to life, condense the thought and project it to its twin, in Loki’s pocket. Entanglement at its finest.
Their bond hummed in acknowledgement.
‘Can you come check this out?’ Tony asked.
It did not even take a full minute before Loki was suddenly there. Tony rather thought the only reason he didn’t come with knives drawn was because Tony had not sounded outwardly hurt or scared.
He hadn’t realized Loki cared that much. Usually, it took ages to get Loki to move, to do anything he wouldn’t have planned on doing by himself. If there was one thing Tony had learned leaving with him, it was that Loki was immovable when he didn’t want to be.
Immortality didn’t really teach one to be hasty.
But this time, Loki hadn’t even waited until the amulet had stopped humming with power before joining him halfway across the city.
The vampire glanced at him, eyes flashing with power for just a second before his gaze roved over the room and finally settled on the thick miasma that pooled from the wall. The very reason Tony had called in the first place.
Tony huffed, amused but warmed that Loki’s first instinct had still been to check him over for injuries, even if he had to know that he was perfectly fine because of the mentor bond. Loki would have been notified at the slightest papercut he got. (Though, usually, Loki smelled those before the bond even told him — and brought him bandaids. And if Tony was ever disappointed that Loki never simply licked his finger clean and sealed the cut with a green spark of magic, that was another matter entirely.)
“This is not from this plane,” Loki said.
Tony nodded. That was what he’d thought. Actually, that was the reason he’d thought himself unqualified to simply dispel this on his own. Elder Gods and other planar abominations were so far beyond the power of any mortal mage that it was ridiculous to even entertain the notion. But Loki? Loki probably could.
Slimy, dark limbs slithered from the breach, coiling around the already desiccated corpse and draining it from its last bit of energy, the remnants of life that clung to the recently deceased.
The cops couldn’t see it. All they knew was that some poor sod had suddenly dropped dead, their body withering into skeletal thinness in a matter of moments before turning into a husk, like a damned nazi after opening the Lost Ark.
They could see Loki, if their wary and suspicious stance was to be believed. But Loki didn't give them a second glance, already dismissing them to the level of useless ants, like most mortals. His face was cold, unmoving, like a statue brought to life. His eyes flashed with power, cold, dismissive and terrifying.
For everyone but Tony.
“You did good, calling me here,” Loki said, his eyes warming a fraction as he glanced at him, before he turned back to the abomination trying to make its way to the human realm.
He lifted a hand, palm facing forward, calling power to him in a great wave. Pressure thickened the air with the force of condensed magic, shimmering with static and the pungent smell of petrichor. The cops gasped, choking on air from the other side of the room, breathless, impossibly affected by something they were not even supposed to be conscious of. Ambient magic didn’t behave like that. Personal magic didn’t do that.
But this was Loki, so of course it did.
Tony watched, wide eyed as it took a physical shape, a visible form, one he could see even without opening his True Sight. Beautiful and deadly, like everything about Loki, elegant lines of green light weaving through the air, coiling over each other in a three-dimensional array, a shape so complex and impossible Tony’s brain hurt trying to make sense of it.
It was magnificent.
The Abomination’s magic fought back, black tentacles of power snapping at the magical construct, trying to corrupt it, to destroy it, to drown it into its encompassing darkness, but Loki’s power was too potent for it to do anything.
And then the spell unfolded, like a flower blooming from thousands of tiny buds at once, releasing their impossible power in a fucking hurricane.
The Elder God blew up. It was entirely disintegrated in the blast, turning into fucking sparkles. Of darkness.
Tony didn’t even know they could die, but he felt it. He felt the echoes of its death rippling through his bones, an unholy scream and sudden void of power. The wary skittering of the other creatures from the beyond in the face of such power. The gaping maw of the portal to the Void, the disgusting way it squirmed, things that were moving, too many of them, they were looking back-
A palm blocked his gaze from those visions of horror, A green glow somehow cleansing the inside of his brain, if that even made any sense.
“You should know better than to look into the abyss, Anthony.”
Tony shivered, clinging to Loki’s sleeve almost desperately. Green eyes looked at him in concern, kindness and warmth showing through the green depths. “I want to go home.”
He felt weak, fragile even. Talking to the agents felt like too much effort, too much strength and composure. More than he could muster.
“I’ll take care of it,” Loki said. And that was that.
The breach was already closed, forensics had started taking the corpse away. Loki talked with the agents. They looked awfully uncomfortable, their faces sour but resigned.
Then Loki came back to collect him, and ushered him out of the room. “How good are you with teleportation?”
Void-sickness. That’s what Loki called it, the horrible after-effects of a magical being coming into contact with the Abyss. It was better than mundanes’ reactions, which was either death or rampant insanity, but it was still wildly unpleasant. As though there were still slimy threads of it clinging to him, to his mind, heart and magic and trying to corrupt him.
Loki’s quick reaction had taken care of the worst of it, but Tony had been in contact with it for longer than he’d guessed, and the ill had already had time to set in by the time Loki was there.
In essence, it felt like a very bad flu.
A very magical flu, in the most awful possible sense of the term.
Without Loki there, Tony would have been done for.
Anyone would have been done for.
Tony still couldn’t believe Loki had killed an Elder God. Just like that.
His head ached. He might not be entirely coherent.
Loki hadn’t brought Tony back to his home, saying something about not wanting to contaminate the premise with the remaining traces of the Abyss. So Tony was seeing Loki’s home for the first time, and he couldn’t even enjoy it, since he was secreting disgusting black goop from everywhere in his body and he could barely remain conscious for a few hours at a time.
And walking was out. Not if he didn’t want to end up flopping helplessly on the ground like a ridiculous blobfish.
Loki was being incredibly patient with him. Tony knew nursing him back to health couldn’t be pleasant in any way. Tony was gross, weak, annoying and deliberately contrary.
Even if he was ridiculously grateful too. He didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if Loki hadn’t stopped him from looking, hadn't cleansed their hooks in his mind before they could truly set. “This is mild,” Loki had said.
Tony didn’t want to know what it was when it was bad.
And he couldn’t help but remember the way Loki had looked at him in that room, the gentleness and warmth he’d been taking for granted for so long.
Loki wasn’t like that with the others. When asked, Loki admitted easily that he wasn’t like that with anyone else, apart from his Childer. As though it was no matter. As though it was just that easy.
Loki looked at him with careful incredulity, “Did you think I would propose a mentorship with just anyone?”
“But why me?” Tony didn’t get it. They had never met before that time in the Shield’s Inn. They’d never even seen each other.
“You were intriguing. You still are. Fascinating. Brilliant.” Loki’s smile grew rueful, “And completely oblivious. For a genius, you can be surprisingly dense. Sometimes I wonder if I have maybe overestimated your cleverness, darling.”
“I’m sorry?” Tony didn’t know if he should be worried or offended.
Loki leaned in, “You desire me, do you not?”
Tony made a strangled sound. In all their time, Loki had never been so obvious in calling him out. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Loki sighed, something like disappointment crossing his gaze for a second before it was hidden once more behind that usual affable mask. A glint of fondness touched his smile. “Do get better, darling.”
And that was that.
So Tony thought about it. A lot.
He had nothing better to do, after all. Loki had enforced bed rest magically after Tony had tried sneaking off to explore when he’d thought he started getting better. It had ended up with Tony convulsing in a hallway and Loki carrying him back to bed, so Tony did understand Loki’s reaction, even if he didn’t like it.
But it did force him to think.
The conclusions he came to, the only one that truly made sense, was completely baffling. Impossible. Inconceivable.
But it made sense.
And it meant that Tony was a moron. A blind idiot. A dummy. A fool.
But also, couldn’t Loki have been any less cryptic?
Actually, now that Tony thought this through, Loki had been downright blatant.
Tony really was a moron.
But he could hardly say as much, could he?
In the end, Tony just kissed him. Loki was bending down to check his temperature, dark hair fanning down around them in a silky curtain, eyes intent on his work, and Tony had thought ‘he’s so beautiful,’ and then ‘he wants me back.’ And he’d reached up, winding his arms around Loki’s neck, relishing the one instant of true surprise that flashed across Loki’s face, the way green eyes widened and lips parted to reveal white fangs, and he pressed their lips together.
It was foul. Tony still tasted of the abyss, his body clammy with oozing darkness and sweat, dull ache still gripping most of his limbs.
But Loki didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he was like a breath of fresh air, his magic starkly vibrant as it ran over Tony’s flesh, like a cool shower scrubbing him clean from taint. His lips soft against his, welcoming, teasing. His eyes narrowed to half moon, almost as if saying ‘took you long enough’.
When they parted, Loki smiled, a true smile and not simply a twist of his lips. He looked warm, happy. Tender. His hands brushed through Tony’s hair, teasing and mellow.
“We will return to this when you get better,” Loki said.
Suddenly, Tony had an entirely new reason to want this damn void-sickness to be over.
The wait was worth it.
It hadn’t taken much to seduce Loki. He’d clearly been waiting for Tony to make his move for a while now.
But he’d still been patient and careful, his hands sure as they caressed Tony’s side and swiftly divested him of his clothes. He’d worshipped his body with the single-minded focus of a mage exploring a new and rare artifact, he learned him, every place that made him tick, every touch that drove him wild. Prepared him with more care than anyone had ever shown.
And fucked him within an inch of his life.
Tony didn’t know what he’d expected. Sex with Loki was-
He couldn’t describe it.
Brilliant. Mind-blowing. Challenging. Harrowing. All of them at the same time, and yet no word truly did it justice. Sometimes Tony felt he could die. Sometimes he thought the world had stopped in a single, impossible moment of bliss.
It was never boring. It was never too much. And it never failed to turn Tony into a blissed out puddle of goo. Tony wasn’t even mad when Loki laughed at his mortal weakness and teased him about his refractory period.
It felt nice. Comfortable. Safe.
Tony was ridiculously in love.
But then, so was Loki.
It worked.
They worked.
Tony was insatiable, and Loki never could refuse him anything. They hardly could get their hands off each other those first few days of their relationship.
And then, they settled.
Tony was still affectionate, touching and cuddling Loki any chance he got, but they did manage to leave the bedroom. They ate together, talked, laughed. Tony finally ventured back to his house, after having Loki check one last time that no stain from the Abyss remained in his aura. He promptly spent an entire week in his workshop, getting reacquainted with his space, and everything he’d missed during his convalescence.
Loki had first seemed rather wary, uncertain of how their budding relationship would weather this change of setting, but Tony had soon called him in with a project he’d started on harnessing the planear wave’s energies, and Loki had reclaimed his place next to him, settling in as if he’d never left it.
In fact, many things were left unchanged.
They were just closer. More intimate, more comfortable around each other.
And Tony found a part of his heart that he never knew was wounded slowly start to heal.
“Why do you never bite me?”
Loki blinked down at him from the pillow next to him. They were in Loki’s manor this time. They’d taken to switching back and forth since Tony’s recovery, and Tony had grown fond of the old, Victorian decor, of the green tapestries and golden chandeliers. Some parts were markedly older, raw and less defined, perhaps even dating back to early medieval times, but Tony couldn’t really be sure. But he was quite fond of the ancient look, of the strange blends of times and art-styles, of the small ways the home still managed to feel magical without being outrageously blatant about it. Not that Tony didn’t find some of the most ridiculously magical houses somewhat charming, but sometimes it felt more like a gimmick, an obvious show of power, useless posturing even. Not here. Here, the magic was infused deep within its walls; the home alive with its own will and a budding personality, a mischievous yet caring persona that felt soothing.
It made Tony think of Jarvis, the construct he’d infused into the wires and bolts drilled into his walls, a presence that was more of a friend than a servant.
Moreover, Loki had done something to make the building accept him as part of its charges, and since then, none of the artifacts present ever attacked him. It was rather nice to be in an outwardly magical home without needing to be on guard all the time.
The bedrooms were some of the least magical areas of the house. They looked terribly old fashioned and sometimes ridiculously cold, but the canopy around the bed was ridiculously warm and thick, isolating them from the outside world and keeping the heat in. And between the two of them, they raised a lot of heat. (Tony hadn’t even known vampire bodies produced heat. It was delightful. Sometimes, he even managed to draw a blush from those pale cheeks. Like now.)
“Whatever are you on about now, love?”
Pet names were a thing with Loki. A very nice thing. Tony enjoyed the casual show of affection they represented, and in turn, Loki fondly tolerated Tony’s tactile need to show affection through shared touch. It was nice.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve lived for a few years just a few blocks from a blood-bar, you know?”
Loki looked back, deadpan. “Yes, I was aware. So?”
“So,” Tony averted his eyes. It was a bit embarrassing to bare such a wealth of dark fantasies, but he couldn’t back out now. “You hear things. ”
“Things?”
Tony could just hear the raised eyebrow. Loki was making fun of him, he just knew it.
“About bites. And how good they feel. So I am curious.”
Loki huffed, the hints of an eye roll in his expression. Not that Loki would actually roll his eyes, he was much too dignified for that, but this was definitely a Loki-eye-roll. “I see. I suppose that does not at all mean you’ve been fantasizing about it since you first saw me.”
Busted.
“So sue me, I couldn’t resist your charm and poise from the moment I saw you. But you knew that already and you’re avoiding the question.”
Tony had learned by now that denial was useless. And that if you let Loki guide the conversation, you’d never actually get where you wanted, not if it wasn’t also where Loki wanted. It was impressive, that ability of Loki’s to make you completely forget where you were going with your thoughts and sidetrack you to his convenience. Talking with him was a bit like entering a maze hoping to find your way through, and that the walls wouldn’t eat you on your way. Fun, but quite distracting.
Loki smirked, eyes glittering with hunger, like they always did when Tony sidestepped one of his verbal traps. “I will admit I had also considered it. Your blood smells delightful, darling, a true nectar. I could drink from you for the rest of eternity without ever getting bored.”
Tony blushed, somehow thrown on how he should be taking this. It felt more salacious than when Loki was telling him all the ways he would be fucking him, and politely asking him if he was in agreement with that plan. “That’s- I mean, thank you?”
Loki chuckled, “See, you’re much less comfortable with the idea than you pretend. And you’re also terribly ignorant.”
“Hey!” That was a bit much. Though, going from experience, Loki was probably quite right. “What is there to know about, anyway?”
Loki’s gaze trailed to the side, suddenly somber, “Whoever you saw, did they seem fine? Sane? Independent?”
Tony frowned, “What do you mean?”
“Being a donor is addictive. That is how vampires keep a steady supply of blood, sustaining it through the lives of those who fall into that alluring trap. It is pleasurable, of course, and does not have much of the other debilitating effects of most mundane drugs found on the market, apart from perhaps some ravenous hunger afterwards and higher levels of libido and docility. In fact, they will often find themselves in slightly better physical shape for it, because it is more convenient for donors to stay healthy. Diseased blood is disgusting, after all.”
Tony frowned. “But they’re-”
“They’re addicts, Anthony. Druggies, junkies, or whatever other term you want to use for it. Vampires call them thralls, because in that state they are too obsessed, too driven by need to deny their master anything, not if it will get them a bite. Some of them leave behind everything, their entire life, just to follow the will of a particularly demanding vampire.”
“And you approve of this?” Tony didn’t like what he was hearing. Oh, it was probably quite legal, mostly. Vampires could not drink from mundanes without killing them, after all, and magical folks were supposed to be too smart to let themselves be trapped thusly.
And yet, Tony almost had. If Loki hadn’t refused, or if Loki had asked him when they’d first started sleeping together, or even before that, Tony would be a thrall by now. And he wouldn’t have thought about protecting himself at all. Why would he?
But the witch he’d met had seemed- Yes, he had looked like a druggie. But Tony had partaken in quite a few of the mundane psychotropic substances, especially in his early days of practicing magic, when there had been too many thoughts in his mind, too many threads, things to see, to do. Appliances had started whispering to him their secrets, magical currents sweeping through him like phantom waves of warmth and static, too much information crowding his mind without him being able to make sense of it. He’d needed to quiet them, to find a way to hear silence again.
Drugs had worked, for a time. And then addiction had set in, and Tony had fought it.
And won.
Eventually.
But he hadn’t thought anything of letting himself fall under the lure of yet another addiction. But magical drugs weren’t of the same calibre of mundane ones, and he’d wisely steered clear so far.
But he hadn’t really thought of giving blood as a drug before Loki pointed out. It was insidious like that, it didn’t seem as though you were ingesting anything. You just let yourself become prey. And it had seemed so much like a sex thing.
“So, I suppose that’s a no. Fair enough.” Tony gave a rueful laugh.
“It isn’t.”
Tony gave Loki a dubious look. “Are you saying you don’t mind me becoming your thrall? You love it when I’m contrary. You’d get bored in a day if I didn’t give you a challenge once in a while.”
Loki chuckled, “Of course not. I’d never want you to lose your will like that. And, I will admit I find the practice of taking advantage of donors distasteful.” He smiled, a bit wry, “But, if you’re not entirely freaked out by the prospect of me sinking my teeth inside your arteries, then there is a way.”
Loki paused. Sometimes, talking with him felt like drawing blood from stone. “Okay. What is it?”
Loki sent him a quelling look, as though chiding him for his lack of patience. Tony was entirely unrepentant.
“It is a commitment, between a mortal and an immortal. A pact sealed in blood, a union if you will. Those who agree to it do not become thralls, but Consorts.”
“Wait,” Tony frowned, “Isn’t that a myth?”
Tony had only heard of Consorts in old tales of vampires’ spouses, and even those were too sparse for him to have heard more than a couple in all his years. They were spoken of like treasures, fragile yet powerful, sometimes the only way to reason with tyrannical elder vampires. Humans elevated, not through a change but a wedlock.
“They are certainly rare enough to be one, but they are very real. Consorts and their spouse exchange blood at the beginning of their bond, initiating a mutual dependence. In return, the Consort becomes immune to the effects of thrall, of any thrall. And-” Loki trailed off, gaze falling to the side.
Tony blinked. This mattered to Loki. Much more than Tony had previously realized.
“And?” He prodded, gently.
“And the lifeforce of the Consort becomes tied to that of their spouse, extending their life to last as long as a vampire would.” Loki finished, voice hushed, “One of the rare ways for our kind to find companionship outside our own kind.”
“Not a Childer, nor a fleeting story, bound to end in grief.” Tony mused. He hadn’t really contemplated their respective differences in lifespan, not when their story was already so new.
Not when he’d thought himself nothing more than a temporary distraction to Loki, an entertaining way to while away a couple centuries before the next diversion came along.
Apparently, Loki cared more than that.
“Yes,” Tony said. “Yes, I want it. I want this, with you.”
Loki blinked at him, slowly.
“This is what you’re offering, isn’t it? You wouldn’t have spoken of it if you didn’t want it.” Tony had learned to get a clue, where Loki was concerned. His former obliviousness was still embarrassing, but he did learn. Loki was always ridiculously careful with his words. With the openings he left and the seeds he planted.
“It is. But I don’t believe you can make such a life changing decision quite so fast.” Loki’s tone was deadpan, his brow raised.
Tony sniffed. “Really, did you think I’d say something like that without thinking it through first?”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“We’ve been living together for close to a year now. And we’ve been in a-” How did one call what they were doing? “A romantic relationship for a month. I don’t know when you’ve started thinking about this Consort stuff, but I know I’ve wanted to seduce you since I first saw you. And I know I’ve fallen in love with your brain a long time ago. I know I’ll never be bored around you, and that you won’t be bored with me either. The sex is fucking great. The snuggling is awesome. And we make such a fucking great team, any time we put our minds together.” Where was he going with that? “I just feel like we're awesome together. And I believe in us, and all that we can become if we give ourselves the chance.”
Loki was looking back at him, that damn smug glint in his eyes that let Tony know he’d been played.
“You bastard, using reverse psychology on me to make me propose to you instead of the other way around!”
Loki laughed, the sound clear and bright, freer than anything Tony had ever heard from him before. Then he smiled, and Tony smiled back, helpless to resist. He wouldn’t be getting an apology for that one, but he didn’t mind.
He could get used to this.
Loki had refused to instate their bond immediately, and while Tony was disappointed and sulky, he was still grateful that his partner was so careful about ensuring that this was a well-thought-through decision.
Still, the three-years delay he’d enforced chafed. Tony had always been to life fast and make decisions even faster, never regretting them, but sometimes dealing with the consequences like one would mop broken glass. It was annoying, but necessary, and Tony was well-used to it. But that meant patience had never really been his forte.
Three years was long when you wanted something now. But Loki had wisely said that eternity was even longer, and really, Tony had nothing to answer to that.
Thankfully, Loki was good at distracting Tony, and they had too many things to do for Tony to wallow in this self imposed delay. The months passed by in a blink, between cases and commissions and inventing binges, and other studies on the more obscure parts of magic.
They moved Tony’s workshop under Loki’s mansion. And then, the rest of his stuff. Jarvis met the spirit of Loki’s house, and sparks flew.
There was also Loki, teasing him like the pain in the ass that he was. He had found out that nothing drove Tony crazier than simply mouthing at his neck while crowding him against the walls, using his greater height to dwarf Tony and cage him in. Sometimes even going further and showing off his strength by lifting him up and fucking him against the wall, or other available surfaces.
Sometimes they fought. Tony had entirely lost his former intimidation, and now didn’t hesitate to call Loki out on his shit when he started getting cryptic and moody, or when he lorded his knowledge over Tony like the bastard he very well could be. In turn, Loki turned biting (only metaphorically, sadly) whenever Tony showed his childishness and became obstinate on the most ridiculous things (Tony was self-aware enough to know Loki was right, he just didn’t want to admit it).
Sometimes, their clashes resulted in explosions. Sometimes in tense silences. Sometimes in make-up sex. Sometimes in long talks.
They never lasted long. They never really mattered.
They fixed it.
It was good.
Three years later, Tony asked, “So, are you going to bite me, now?”
Loki laughed, rolled them over on the bed, hovering over Tony with a smirk. “If you insist.” He leaned down, kissed his lips, swiftly, tenderly. Then he nipped his lower lip, just enough to sting.
Tony’s eyes snapped open, a betrayed look in his face. “You’re teasing me.” He pouted. “Again.”
Loki huffed, breathing a cloud of hot air against Tony’s jaw. “I take it you still want this.”
Tony carded his hand through Loki’s hair, pressing his lover's face tighter against his neck, “Yes. Please, yes. I don’t want to imagine the world without you anymore.”
“The world won’t be rid of me anytime soon.”
“Then don’t let me go. Now that you have me, don’t let me out of your grasp. Make me yours.”
Loki’s fangs scraped Tony’s skin, caressing the hickey that was almost permanently etched into Tony’s throat, “With pleasure,” He said.
And then he bit down, and Tony’s world devolved into bliss.
(Vampire blood tasted terrible.)
(It was still worth it.)