The Absent Prayer (Comics Canon: The Past)

[he_that_stands_it_now]

It's been a bad day.

Honestly, it's been a bad week.

Between the mess on the beach the other day and the hulking monstrosity of Nazi engineering making it's way towards him with massive flailing flaming limbs, Bucky Barnes has started to wonder if his bad temper, his foul mouth, and his flippant treatment of authority hasn't gone all the way up the line to the Big Guy Himself and gotten him attention he really didn't want.

Nonetheless, if He got him into this mess than maybe He can get him out, so he spends a couple of precious seconds in between when he lands and when he jumps again to get off a silent prayer.

Dear Whoever Is Listening, I promise I'll never talk at the movies again if you just get my backside out of the frying pan here!

Comments

[godofbadideas]

Loki just kept on grinning into that kiss, bit back, and made an approving little sound. Biting is definitely on the list.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

The metal hand reaches down and yanks him up, because if they're gonna do this, they're gonna do it properly and the way it was then was a shit angle.

[godofbadideas]

Loki laughed softly, and moved so that he was sitting in Bucky's lap, and kissed him again, with teeth.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

"Fuck" and he isn't sure what language he said it in, or even if that's exactly what he said, but it got the point across. Because his hand is in the god's hair, his other hand has his fingers wrapping around the god's waist, and there is no way in hell he's doing this religious thing right, but he doesn't care.

[godofbadideas]

If he was doing the religious thing wrong, Loki would tell him. As far as he's concerned, this is just fine. Sex is power, especially for a god like him, and he made another low, approving sound into his devotee's mouth, got his hands under his devotee's shirt, cool fingers on his hot, human skin.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

He pulls back just long enough to ask an important question

"Where's the bedroom?"

Before he's going for Loki's mouth again.

[godofbadideas]

"End of the hall," he says, before letting Bucky back in, tongue slipping out to taste.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

Bucky tastes a little like blood, metallic, with a singe of heat and a bit of warmth. One hand is firm and quick and seeking; the other is hard and cold and purposeful. The metal hand is the one that lifts Loki up as he stands, while the other holds him to Bucky, against him, unwilling to let him go.

It'd be a wonder how well he multitasks to get down the hall while still having his run of his god's mouth, except that he's the best goddamn assassin in the world and it's a fucking hallway. The bedroom door opens easily enough to a measured kick.

Then there's a bed and both hands are now free to join forces to divest them both of clothing.

[godofbadideas]

Loki is heavy - really heavy, maybe three or four times as heavy as he looks - and he had been briefly, distantly worried that Bucky wouldn't be able to manage lifting him properly. He's glad to see that worry is baseless.

And there are four hands working together to get rid of clothes, and armour, and other annoying things between bare-skinned touch.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

"So, Milkshake... is this me being especially devout, or am I edgin' over into the funny kind of blasphemy?" he asks in between things.

[godofbadideas]

"This is you being especially devout," Loki says. "Others may disagree, but they can go fuck themselves, since they're clearly not going to find anyone else to do it for them."

[he_that_stands_it_now]

"Anything I should know that's different with a god?"

His grin is wickedness and heat and the edge of a blade and firelight is reflected in his eyes. It's there, right there, that perhaps Loki can see what was burned out of him, the singular word to describe the piece that is now missing.

Fear. Every ounce of fear is gone.

[godofbadideas]

Oh yes. Yes, he can see that, and it is beautiful. It sends a surge of heat and want through him, for his devotee.

"I can take a lot more than a mortal; you need hold nothing back."

[he_that_stands_it_now]

That gets a quick jolt of a nod and then his mortal is busy, worship in every sense of the word, along muscles and hip bones and down along inner thighs, prayers muttered straight into his skin from between sinful lips and out of heated eyes.

[godofbadideas]

Loki arches and gasps under him, pushing into his mouth and hands, low, pleased sounds, and fingers in his devotee's hair, on his shoulders.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

He's happy to learn that gods like a mouth on them as much as anyone else, especially because of all the things he's always had, it's a mouth. The whole thing is wild, heady, thrilling in a way these things have never really felt even when he was on a mission and controlling what felt like the world, with someone he wanted and driving them wild. This is all that and more, intoxicating except that he's razorsharp, and his attention is absolutely riveted on learning every single thing he can about his god first hand.

[godofbadideas]

Loki likes his mortal's mouth, his teeth and tongue, and his hands, flesh and metal both. He likes being kissed under he's gasping for breath, and the wonderful, close heat of Bucky's skin against his.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

But this is his mortal, the kid from Camp Lehigh that'd been too stupid to run from a fight, the one who'd taken a blade from someone who'd been a voice in his head not a few hours before, who hadn't had much fear to burn out and didn't even have that now. That's why he drives his god as wild as he thinks he can stand before starting to tease, testing the limits because he can and damn the consequences.

[godofbadideas]

If Bucky was looking for a moaning, gasping wreck of a god, well, he doesn't have to look far. Loki throws himself into it, abandons himself to it, lets his mortal take everything he can, everything he wants to--

"Yes--" he moans raggedly, nowhere near his limits yet, but very happily going there.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

That's always been his problem. He didn't need encouragement to push, didn't need to be told twice or told at all. But when he's told--

He's got a mission and that mission is to make his god lose his gods-damned mind. And he's never failed at a mission yet.

[godofbadideas]

Hours later, Loki is spent, loose-limbed and for the moment, sated, and using his mortal for a conveniently warm pillow, smiling faintly, and skin humming with built-up power, just underneath.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

His mortal's jaw should be sore, he knows it, but it isn't and he's apparently a pretty goddamn good pillow.

"I'm just gonna go with the flow. Apparently, my hindbrain knows it's fuckin' business."

[godofbadideas]

Loki chuckles warm and low.

"It sure does," he agrees, voice rough.

[he_that_stands_it_now]

He looks down at his arm, at the metal arm that's no longer wearing a red star. Instead, there's a handprint charred into it, black as night. That's better, even if it makes him think of things that have nothing and everything to do with who he is as a Soldier.

"You don't do things by halves, do you?"

Neither did he, to be fair.

[godofbadideas]

"Nothing and never."

Loki is a very smug little god right now.