Stockholm

~Stockholm~

Day 1:

When the scratchy, sweltering fabric was pulled off of the billionaire's head, he realized he was in some sort of cell. Metal bars made up one side of the large square room, and the others were rough stone. His attacker was nowhere to be seen, although he or she had likely been the one to remove the sack. Obviously, whoever had kidnapped him did not want him to discover the way into, or out of, his new-found prison. Tony Stark, the prisoner in question, spun around at the sound of footsteps. From the shadows emerged a figure, a familiar one with pale skin and inky black hair.

"Loki?" Tony's voice echoed loudly in the dark cell.

"Who else?" sneered the God of Mischief, placing a small, silver object on both of Tony's wrists. When he examined them closer, they seemed to come alive. Tony flinched backward as the silver, snakelike things twisted tightly around the arms of the chair he was sitting in, effectively handcuffing him in place.

"What are these?" Tony demanded, struggling against the metal. It was so cold it almost burned his flesh.

"Hmm," Loki grinned evilly, "A form of technology the great Tony Stark has not yet discovered. What a momentous occasion." His chuckle was cruel and humorless as it echoed around the room. Tony frowned, stopping his struggles as he realized they were in vain.

"What do you want? I'm on a tight schedule." The billionaire said, still joking, even in his current predicament.

"Oh? It looks to me that you have all the time in the world. You can't be too terribly busy, just sitting there." He paused, casually examining his fingernails. "I imagine the others will be desperate to have you returned in one piece. Desperate enough, even, to surrender."

Tony snorted a laugh. "Holding me for ransom? How Disney-villain of you."

Loki only smiled patiently. "Afraid they won't come looking for you, Stark?"

"No," Tony replied confidently, "but you should be. Then your little plan will be just another failure." He was glad he sounded braver than he felt; the chill of the dank air was weaving itself into his bones, and he couldn't help but wonder how long he would be stuck in this prison.

"You don't understand, do you? If my plan fails..." he ran a gloved hand gently, and almost...tenderly(?) across Tony's cheek, causing the chained man to shiver, "I get the consolation prize." With that, he turned dramatically and melted back into the shadows, leaving Tony Stark alone with his confusion. What in the hell could that mean? The only thing Loki would get if the plan failed was a handful of pissed off superheroes. Wasn't it?

He listened for a while to the echo of a cell door slamming shut, calculating in that genius mind of his exactly how far away he was from it. He cursed his rotten luck for leaving his homing-device bracelet on the counter of his tower. Hopefully, though, the others would figure out he had been captured, and would come to his rescue.

Day 3:

A day passed, or maybe two; Tony couldn't tell. He was only aware of the gnawing hunger in his stomach. His throat was dry, and his mind was wandering listlessly. Where were they? His team should have long since found him by now.

From the darkness, the dark god materialized again, standing before his prisoner with a smirk. It was never a good thing, Tony reflected, when the god of mischief had something to smile about.

"How are you feeling?" he asked conversationally, taunting Tony. Said man spat upon Loki's polished boots, defiance bright in his brown eyes.

"Why you...!" Suddenly, Loki's gloved hand was wrapped around his throat, cutting off his biting response, as well as his airflow. Loki's lips traced the edge of Tony's earlobe as he whispered, "Ah, ah, ah...that's no way to behave in front of your master." He was practically purring as he scolded the superhero, running a hand along the bare forearm of his prisoner.

"Master?" scoffed Tony with a wheeze as he regained his air. Sarcasm dripped from both syllables. Loki was unperturbed.

"You will learn to respect me...to worship me." the god declared thoughtfully, sounding absolute in his plan. With a flourish of his hand, he produced a mug of water and a small chunk of bread, and offered them to the very-hungry billionaire. "You will do as I say..."

Tony rolled his eyes at the statement.

"...or you shall go without." he finished. As quickly as it had appeared, the meager nourishment vanished into nothingness. Brown eyes widened in momentary panic; Tony wouldn't admit it, but he was starving. He wasn't quick enough to hide the expression, as the Asgardian sneered and said coldly,

"We shall see how you feel in a day or so. Perhaps you will reconsider?"

Day 4:

Loki returned early the next morning ; Tony judged this by the small crack of sunlight that wound its way through a hole in the stone walls of his cell. Black boots clicked and echoed across the ground as the god drew nearer. Internally, Tony flinched. What new demeaning scheme had he prepared for today? Deep down, he hoped Loki would reconsider and bring him something to eat. He couldn't remember being this hungry since he was trapped in a war zone, trying to find a way to keep shrapnel away from his heart. Even then, his captors had brought him a little something; they needed him alive. In this case, Tony had no idea why Loki was keeping him around. Obviously, the Avengers didn't consider his rescue a priority.

The voice that he had come to recognize as the only sound in his dull prison woke him from his thoughts.

"Good morning."

"Hmmf." snorted Tony.

"So, my dear, have you changed your mind?"

Tony was immediately struck by his words. 'My dear'?! That was an...affectionate term, wasn't it? Or was he only messing with him? It suddenly became painfully obvious just what Loki meant when he had mentioned a 'consolation prize'. It was him: Tony was the prize.

Day 5:

He was going to starve to death if he didn't eat in the next few hours. He knew it. How could Loki leave him here to die, and still expect the others to come find him? Or was that even the plan? Tony's head hurt from pondering on so little energy. All he wanted was for Loki to return. He would do virtually anything for some food.

As if his thoughts could summon the shadowy god, Loki stepped quietly from the dark.

"Hungry?" he asked teasingly. He loved the look of absolute desperation in the superhero's eyes. Tony hadn't the motivation to do anything but nod.

"Perfect. Let's try something." In one hand appeared a red apple, and in the other, a leather whip. "If you behave, you shan't starve. If not..." He cracked the whip hard to illustrate his point. It barely missed Tony's face, and he fought to keep his composure.

"What do you want me to do?" Tony practically growled, furious at his own submission. The whip snapped again, the tip sending a gust of dank dungeon air against Tony's cheek. It must have been a millimetre away.

"What do you want me to do, master?" corrected the whip-wielding Loki. Tony bit back his pride when he tried, "What do you want me to do...master?"

A feral grin crossed the god's face as he tossed over the apple. Tony caught it and bit into it hungrily, swallowing a few bites before his head began to pound.

"What, is it poisoned, or something?" he asked, as his speech began to slur.

Again, Loki grinned. "You did say I was the perfect Disney-villain, did you not? I thought it only appropriate." The superhero's face felt flushed, and his hands were shaking slightly, causing the silvery handcuffs to jingle behind him.

"Is that uncomfortable?" asked Loki, not seeming concerned in the least. He slithered over to stand behind the billionaire, warm breathe tickling the tiny hairs on the back of Tony's neck. "I can fix that, but you'll have to swear to behave." Tony motioned with his head in somewhat of a nod, and the handcuffs vanished. Before Tony could move, Loki's ice-cold grip was upon his freed wrists, gently massaging over the abused flesh. Tony's skin still felt warm, unnaturally so, and he relished the cold touches. The god's hands moved into his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, as if to take his temperature. With his mind so hazy, Tony did little to resist the arms pulling him flush with Loki's chest, so that the god had his chin resting against Tony's shoulder. Loki traced patterns against the side of his captive's neck with his fingers, but eventually gave up, and switched to using his lips to do the same.

Tony, all conscious thought now gone, mewled and tried to get closer to the man attacking his sensitive skin, but Loki held him at a small distance. He could feel the pace of Tony's heartbeat, could taste it, as it quickened, then dramatically slowed. Knowing what would soon happen, he held his arms out and caught his prisoner, as Tony Stark fainted.

Day 6:

He awoke from a pounding headache the next morning, and for a brief moment, he believed he was back at Stark Tower, recovering from a nasty hangover. That was until he felt the cool stone floor he slept upon. Throwing back the blanket, he wobbled to his feet before becoming confused. The blanket? That had definitely not been there yesterday. Nor had the plate of food that sat against one wall. Suspiciously, he sniffed the food, then tasted a tiny piece, not wanting to again consume whatever poison he had been drugged with earlier. However, hunger won out, and soon he had eaten and drunk the entire small meal. He was interrupted by Loki materializing in the center of the cell.

"Enjoy your breakfast?" he casually inquired. "You will always be rewarded when you behave, my pet."

"What exactly do you want from me?" Tony kept wondering, then added, "Master..."

Loki seemed pleased by his continued obedience, and as much as it hurt Tony's pride, he knew it may be the only thing that could keep him alive.

"I want you to be mine."

The billionaire fought the emotions rising within his exhausted body. Should he listen to this psychopath, being a slave to earn his freedom, or should he fight back and hold out hope for rescue? He chewed his lip, weighing his options. After an eternity, he sighed a submissive,

"Yes, master."

Day 7:

Was it day or night? All Tony knew was the set of hands running up his bare arms, the tongue curling against the shell of his ear, and the frantic pace of his own heartbeat. He was trapped. And yet, had someone offered him his freedom now, he may have refused. Loki had mostly undressed his prisoner, leaving him in only underwear. These did very little to hide the effects of his teasing hands.

"What are you waiting for?" Tony moaned, obviously frustrated. Loki simply laughed his cold, slippery laugh, before attacking the superhero's mouth with his own. His kisses—if one could call them such—spoke of dominance, pinning Tony's tongue to the roof of his mouth. Tony found himself losing the battle, as if the kiss signified his agreement to be the 'pet'. He was no longer a freeman; Loki owned him. He moaned into his superior's mouth as Loki slid a slender hand into Tony's boxers.

His touches started out little whispers of attention, not enough for the man writhing against him to feel fulfilled, only frustrated. Tony bucked into Loki's hand, desperate for more contact. His approach seemed to work, as Loki took a firm hold of his manhood, twisting and pumping until Tony was incoherent. The god's lips rested against Tony's ear as he talked him off, all the while threatening what he would do should Tony resist him. He must have realized this only added to his victim's pleasure; Tony shifted backward against Loki, body begging for more. He watched as Tony's eyes rolled back in his head and his body gave a little shudder. The once-proud hero came hard with a cry of his enemy's name.

Day 8(?):

Somehow, Tony found that he was once again in his clothes, and his cell was empty. He shook his head to clear away the fog, though confusion remained. How long had he been unconscious this time? He knew he was hungry, though not for food. Memories were slowly returning from his encounter. As much as he tried to force those images down, he couldn't help how hard it made him. Looking around the cell to be sure it was empty, he confirmed that he was alone. A bit self-consciously, Tony slid a hand into his pants, massaging himself and trying not to make any sound. He imagined the feeling of Loki's cold skin pressed against him, of his icy hands stroking him to a finish, of his words growled into his ears. He could almost hear him…

"Naughty, naughty." whispered a voice, cutting him short of his completion. Of course, it was the very man Tony was imagining. "Did I give you permission?" He stepped out of the shadows.

"Sorry, Master." Tony whimpered, desperate to get off, but just as desperate to comply to his master's wishes.

Loki sat in a chair he pulled from smoke, crossing his slim, long legs in front of him. "Continue." he commanded. Tony squeaked a bit in surprise, but eventually gave in to his physical need, returning his hand to his throbbing member. He moved frantically, eyes closed, until Loki ordered, "Look at me."

Tony Stark felt a shockwave rip through his body when his eyes connected to that set of mysterious green eyes. He held the gaze shyly, feeling as though he had been electrocuted. If he didn't have his hand occupied, he may have even checked to make sure his arc-reactor was functioning properly. Slowly, he gained confidence, becoming more forceful with his actions. He threw his head back, losing himself to the sensations. He swore he could see his captor lean forward in his chair. So it was affecting Loki, as well? Good to know. Tony opened his mouth slightly, allowing his moans to escape into the chilled air. He could see his breath.

"Stop." Loki demanded curtly. Tony stopped, though he couldn't help but whine at the loss of contact. He was so close. "If you can control yourself…" he surveyed the flushed cheeks and mussed hair of his captive. "…unlikely…Then you shall be rewarded later. If you fail to do so, you shall be punished."

The struggling billionaire gasped for breath, but answered "Of course, Master. What do you want me to do?"

Loki smirked. "You are not to touch yourself. At all. If you do, I will know. Perhaps I will be back for you later." He turned and vanished, taking his chair with him in a swirl of smoke.

Desolate and painfully aroused, Tony sat in the darkness. It was hard to tell when, or if, Loki would return. He was beginning to have doubts whether his team would come to his rescue. Even more, he was doubting if he even wanted to be rescued.

Day 9:

He hadn't returned like he promised. Tony was left to his own devices for far too long, letting Loki's words echo in his head. If you can control yourself…you shall be rewarded… So far, he wasn't seeing his reward. The cold was cutting into his skin; he longed for a decent bed, a hot bath maybe. More than that, he longed for company. Was the Trickster ever going to return for him?

"Starting to doubt me already?" Loki purred, appearing directly in front of him. "We can't have that, now, can we? Stand up." he commanded.

Tony practically jumped to his feet. When had he gotten so eager to please? His palms were already beginning to sweat; he knew what came next…if he was lucky. His reward. "Master…please…" he mumbled, cheeks flushed. He hung his head, as if that would hide the evidence that he was affected by this submission.

"All in good time." Loki slid a slender hand under Tony's chin, forcing his head up. "You will look at me when I am speaking to you." he demanded.

The billionaire shuddered. Before he could stop himself, he hastily said, "I'm sorry, master."

"Better." His hand moved to the back of Tony's head, carding through the short hair on the nape of his neck. He used it to pull the shorter man toward him. Tony desperately initiated the kiss, but the god was quick to take control, tugging Tony's head back even more to reach every bit of his mouth. He growled against the hero's mouth, pressing his tongue along the inside of Tony's teeth. The aforementioned man moaned audibly, clutching at Loki's silky shirt. "I suppose," he began, out of breath, "you have earned your reward."

There were no dramatic flashing lights, nor a spinning sensation when they materialized in a room that was unfamiliar to Tony. The first thing he noticed was the warmth, very welcome after the chill of his cell. His eyes drifted then to the bed in the room's center, which was lavishly decorated with a massive headboard and satiny green sheets. The floor was carpeted, and soft beneath his bare feet.

"Wha-?" he wondered, but was cut off by another kiss. There's something different about this one, Tony thought to himself as his mouth was claimed. It felt…it tasted less like a fight for control, and more like…passion. After a few seconds, coherent thought stopped entirely. His skin was burning with need; Loki's icey touch seemed to be the only antidote.

The god's hunger was devouring both of them; he didn't think he could stop if he had to. This wasn't about rewarding Tony for his patience: this was about getting what he needed. "Sit." he commanded, gesturing to the luxurious bed. "Good. Now remove your shirt." His authoritive tone was diminished by the tremor in his voice. His hands, too, were shaking as he undid the buttons of his own shirt, before tossing it to the ground. "Lie down." he ordered, voice cracking.

Tony did as he was commanded, of course. He had been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he could barely breathe. He couldn't look away from Loki's half-bare figure; pale and slender, he might have been sculpted from ice. Kneeling by the edge of the bed, the god carefully unbuttoned Tony's jeans, sliding them from his hips. Tony keened, wishing he would just hurry up already. He leaned down, and with his infamous silver tongue, drew tantalizing circles over Tony's protruding hip bones.

"Master! Please!" he gasped, bucking up toward the contact.

Teasingly, Loki nuzzled his nose against the obvious bulge in the playboy's boxers, relishing in the desperate sound Tony produced.

"Please what?" he asked languidly, drawing out the torture.

His pride prevented him from begging. Weakly, he wriggled his hips, hoping that would be good enough.

"No? Obviously you are not that desperate, then." Loki smirked, getting to his feet and acting as though he would simply walk away. That was when Tony noticed the tent in his black (admittedly quite tight) trousers.

He couldn't help it. "Please, master…I want you to fuck me."

Loki groaned aloud at that, unable to hide his arousal as he swiftly snapped both of their clothes away in an instant,

"Useful…" Tony managed, biting his lip as the other man sat between his legs. He was suddenly feeling very exposed, but at this point, he was too far gone to care. His arousal was heavy against his stomach, throbbing with need. Loki took him in hand, not firmly enough to bring him any relief, just enough to tease. With his other hand, he traced a line from his perineum to his puckered entrance. Tony jumped slightly at the coldness and unexpected pressure. "Aren't you going to, you know…?"

Loki sighed, "Are you going to be quiet?" Despite his brief annoyance, he summoned a bottle of oil from thin air, liberally coating his hand. Tony screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable burn.

The Asgardian was uncharacteristically gentle when he eased a single digit in, massaging Tony's inner walls until he relaxed. Under Loki's ministrations, he moaned and writhed, nodding confirmation when he was ready for a second finger. With the third, he was feeling the stretch rather painfully. He flinched though when they were removed, but licked his lips in anticipation.

"Turn over." Loki commanded. Certainly, the position would make this easier, but more than that, he was a bit reluctant to let anyone watch him come undone. His mental shields were all he had to protect him from pain; it just wouldn't do to have his enemy (could he still call him that?) see him in a moment of weakness.

Tony obeyed. As soon as his erection was pressed harshly against the smooth sheets, he gasped, wanting to rut against it for a semblance of friction. A cool hand rested on the small of his back reassuringly as Loki entered him. The god hissed as he slowly pushed past the tight muscle, determined to seat himself fully inside the hero. Tony recovered quickly, already pressing back against him, wanting more. Isn't that just like him? thought Loki, he has everything and he still wants more…

After a moment, he began to rock into him, pulling out halfway to push back in. The slide of skin on wet, hot skin was intoxicating. His slim fingers dug bruises into Tony's hips. Little by little, he became more forceful, slamming into him with force. Tony moaned, wanton with lust. His hips were forced up, so his ass was in the air and Loki was kneeling behind him. It gave both of them a much better, deeper angle for every borderline-painful thrust. Loki directed Tony's movements, pulling him back onto his hardness, effectively forcing him to fuck himself on the Asgardian's member. Tony's moans were muffled in the pillow. Even so, they filled the room. His hand went to his own ignored erection, but Loki slapped his hand away.

"You. Must. Learn. To. Behave." he growled, punctuating the words with especially hard thrusts. He replaced Tony's hand with his own, twisting sharply until Tony gave in, coming hard with a scream. His body tightened deliciously against the other man. Loki's eyes fluttered shut as all of his muscles simultaneously clenched and released. He spilled hotly into his prisoner, holding so tight his nails drew blood along Tony's hips. Pulling out, he magicked the both of them clean and got out of the bed.

"Where are you-?" Tony muttered, nearly unconscious, boneless on the mattress.

"Sleep well." Loki whispered with a smirk as he vanished.

Day 10:

Steve Rogers paced the top floor of Stark Tower, now fondly referred to as Avengers Tower. The others, sans Tony, sat at a table, displaying the various stages of grief.

Pepper, missing from the table, hadn't spoken to anyone for about three days. Her expression showed unwavering shock. Mostly, she wandered around his lab in the basement, perhaps hoping to find clues to his disappearance.

"He's gotten himself out of a hell of a lot worse," Clint insisted, "He'll be fine." He rested his boots on the table, a perfect opposite of Bruce.

Bruce's hands clamped white-knuckled on the arms of his chair. "How can you say that? Do any of you have ANY idea where he could be?!" Underneath his frail facade, anger was boiling. Tony's oldest friend, Rhodey, scooted his chair away a little.

"Alright, all take another flight over the city if you just. Calm. Down." His bargaining didn't seem to help much.

"I mean, I'll be the first to say what we're thinking, here. This has Loki written all over it," Clint said, putting his feet on the floor and getting to business. "What's the plan?"

"If only I had been more attentive. I fear I am to blame," Thor stated, mostly to himself.

"It's no use whining about it," Natasha interrupted, "We can sit here and talk, or we can do something. Thor—you know Loki. Where is he most likely to be?"

Standing by the window, Steve tuned out most of the conversation. His head hurt, and his throat felt tight. Without Tony, what chance did they really have? They were even less of a team now than they were before the Avengers Initiative. And yet, he knew his feelings were not those of a team missing a member, but of a man missing a friend.

It had been more than a week, and Steve felt every second like a punch to the stomach. Fear and sadness fought to outweigh each other within him, sloshing through his body like ice, so, so cold.

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Cold, so cold. The room must have been forty degrees when Tony awoke, wrapping the silk blankets tighter around his shivering form. When he remembered the previous night, warmth started to return to him, first in his cheeks, then in the pit of his stomach.

Hoping for something, he reached out and felt the pillow beside his. It was empty. He wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed. Probably the latter.

"Looking for someone, pet?" asked a voice as cold as the room.

"Lo—Master," Tony gasped, as last night returned to him in a blast of vivid detail. He was suddenly burning hot. Looking to Loki for permission, he pulled his shirt over his head. "Come here," he asked, "Please?"

Loki grinned darkly. "Ready for me so early?" he asked rhetorically, "How charming."

Tony's face lit up. The god seemed pleased with him thus far. He supposed, in the back of his mind, he should be figuring out a way to escape, or at least beg for something to eat, but those were unappealing options compared to the threatening promise in Loki's eyes.

"Please?" he repeated.

Loki stepped closer, slowly, stalking around the edge of the large bed. The room, still dark, hung silently around them. Carefully, he peeled the black robe he wore from his body, dropping it off his shoulders. It rustled like an exhale as it slid over his skin and onto the ground. As he knelt upon the bottom of the bed, Tony couldn't help but admire the sharp contrast of black silk on such pale skin.

"If you insist," he obliged, pushing Tony down onto his back.

Hastily, Tony wrapped his legs around Loki's slender waist, pulling him down hard. Their lips met with a crash, teeth scraping lips, and hands pulling hair. Breathing was unimportant, only inhibited the closeness they both desired so fiercely. Unlike the other times, there was a mutual need, evident by the way Loki bit Tony's lower lip and ran it between his teeth.

The hero shuddered, swiveling his hips to get more attention.

"My, my," Loki chided, "Desperation looks good on you." He sat up smoothly, denying him contact. "On your hands and knees," he commanded. Though his will was strong, his words were gentle.

Tony couldn't obey fast enough. He was on his knees in seconds, leaning on his forearms with his ass high in the air and fully exposed. If he had expected the god to press up behind him like he had the night before, he was disappointed. Even in his position of submission, Tony managed,

"I'm getting cold. Come on."

The bed shifted, and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the intrusion. He longed for the steady burn and the nearly unbearable stretch. Already half-hard, his cock jumped when Loki's hands parted his cheeks.

"Oh, shut up!" he said in frustrated lust, then dipped forward to press his long tongue to Tony's puckered flesh.

"Ahh," the billionaire gasped, "Ohh." And that was the end of his sentient thoughts. He could feel Loki smirk against his skin, laving his tongue around his rim in a slow circle.

The feeling was incredible. Tony's arms shook, and he could hardly support his weight. It was—at once—everything he loved about sex and everything he loved about French kissing. The hot, wet, slow slide of Loki's tongue, famed throughout mythology, had Tony ready to burst. And that was before he started pushing past the rim, dipping into him little by little until precome ran down the inside of Tony's leg.

Loki chuckled softly, making Tony moan even louder.

"I'm…I…" he trie to warn him.

"No, you aren't. Not until I say." Loki pulled away, true to his nature, leaving Tony a mess. Still, even he didn't have the restraint to stay away for long. He slid one finger in and twisted.

Despite his orders to the contrary, Tony came. Hard. The world went black and he remembered no more.

Sitting back on his heels, Loki smirked to himself. "What am I to do with you?" he wondered aloud. He meant to get off the bed and clean himself off, but he was interrupted by the nagging need between his legs. Was there really any harm in taking care of it here? He didn't think so.

Already fully undressed, he grabbed the oil he had conjured earlier and coated his hand. Closing his eyes, he took himself in hand, biting his lip as he felt out the right rhythm. He attempted to stay quiet, though it was proving difficult. Risking a glance at the sleeping man, he instantly came closer to the edge. He raised his leg, leaning one arm on his knee, and examined Tony's bare form. Tan, dark complexioned, his arc-reactor glowing in the dark of the early morning, an expression of bliss rested on his face. One hand was thrown above his head, his posture open and trusting.

Loki raised an eyebrow. He was quite the interesting prisoner, that was certain. Increasing his pace and pressure, he had to put his free hand to his mouth to keep himself from crying out. Soft sounds escaped, but they weren't enough to wake the other. "Mmm," he mumbled, then put his finger in his mouth to silence his noises. Biting down, he closed his eyes, panting. His head fell back as he came, hissing an almost-silent "Anthony!"

Boneless, he fell back onto the mattress beside the man whose name he just accidentally screamed at the moment of climax. He berated himself mentally. This was not supposed to happen. Regardless of his intention, he still managed to fall asleep beside him, their naked forms curled together under the black silk sheets.

Day 11:

Tony slept fitfully for about an hour before giving up, slipping from the bed to put on some clothes. Unable to find his own, he donned Loki's silk robe, shivering. The luxurious bedroom, bedecked in black and silver, suited his sleek, dark Master.

Though darkened by the closed curtains, the room still suggested it was midday. Loki had vanished after their little…episode, as per usual. Judging by the muffled sounds from deeper within his mysterious prison (could he really even call it that?), he was nearby, long awake. A crash sounded from a room over; Tony jumped, suddenly filled with dread.

"Master?" he asked, finding his voice was nearly gone. He ran a hand through his hair. Loki was certainly able to take care of himself. There was no need to worry, was there? The churning in his stomach suggested otherwise. Nodding to himself, he ventured out into a hallway, which glowed hauntingly by enormous golden sconces placed along the walls. Tony imagined it looked similar to Asgard.

At the end of the hall were two doors. The first was locked. The second gave beneath his hand, leading him into a completely dark room. It was far too black to determine the size of the room, whether it was a tiny cell or a cavernous hall. He put his hands to the wall, carefully stepping around, feeling out the shape of the room. The walls were smooth, papered, adorned every five feet or so with another sconce for candles.

When he stumbled, something soft and solid caught his fall. It felt like velvet and carved wood beneath his fingers, possibly a chair or a chaise lounge. If that was the case, the room was probably a sitting room or parlor, and couldn't be that huge. The thought reassured him. In fact, Tony considered surrendering his investigation in favor of going back to the room when he heard shouting.

"Where is he?" someone demanded angrily. The voice was masculine, familiar.

Steve?

Fumbling more quickly now, he finally found the door. Luckily, it opened, unveiling a blinding light which forced him to blink and shield his eyes. After countless days of near-blackness, the harsh, inorganic lights made his head ache.

It wasn't until the glare began to dissipate that he could make out the other forms in the room. Loki was pinned against the wall, Steve's hand to his throat. Natasha looked ready to pounce, prepared to take him down if he somehow escaped Steve's vice-like grip.

All three of them stopped to stare at Tony when he entered, their expressions varying from relief, to disbelief, to amusement (from Loki, naturally).

"Thank God," Steve breathed, still not letting Loki go.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked, pieces not quite adding up. His head hurt, he was freezing in just the thin robe, and all he really wanted was for his Master to come back to bed.

Steve grimaced, as though physically hurt by Tony's confusion. Natasha stepped in, explaining carefully, "We're here to get you out. All of us are here, Bruce, Thor, Clint, me, Steve. We're gonna bring you back to Stark Tower, okay?"

So they were here to rescue him? Tony blinked repeatedly. Of course they were. They were his team. The Avengers. He belonged back at his tower, certainly, and he wanted to go home. He needed to see Pepper, to make sure everything was okay, to get back into his normal way of life, if it could be called that. Still, he was confused. His skin was crawling at just the thought of leaving. It was as if he had abandoned a mission halfway through, like he was leaving something important behind. He furrowed his brow, then managed,

"Took you long enough."

Both Avengers sighed in relief to find Tony acting more like himself. Turning to Loki, Steve declared, "Thor has agreed to return you to Asgard."

The god paled. Struggling against Steve's arm, he tried to escape, knowing what justice lay in wait for him in the other realm. "Wait!" he exclaimed, "Let your damsel in distress speak for himself." His eyes came to rest on Tony.

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked.

"Ask him if he plans on leaving."

Steve and Natasha exchanged glances. "Why wouldn't he?"

Loki shrugged, as best he could in his restrained position, and smiled wickedly.

Cautiously, Natasha approached Tony, trying not to scare him off. She could already sense how shaken he was, and wanted to prevent him from doing anything to harm himself. "Tony, are you okay?"

He nodded.

"Will you let us bring you back home?" she asked, reaching out a hand to slowly set it on his arm.

He flinched, but didn't pull away. Instinctively, he looked to Loki, whose grin only grew wider. Tony implored him with his eyes, silently asking, What do you want me to do, Master?

"I'm afraid he's staying," Loki said, matter-of-factly.

Tony nodded again, much to the others' dismay. "I have to stay."

"What? Why?" Natasha demanded, pulling her hand away, "Tony, it's us. You have to come home."

"I can't. I can't," he insisted, taking a step away. Why didn't they understand. It wasn't right. He had to stay.

Steve slammed Loki against the wall. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing. If you recall, I cannot control his heart. Well, not with this." As he spoke, his staff materialized in his hand. Before the heroes could react, Steve was knocked to the floor. "Tony, come," he ordered. Obediently, Tony reached out for him. As their hands touched, both men vanished.

"No!" Steve yelled, running toward the place where they had stood only seconds ago. He grasped at empty air.

Natasha swore under her breath. "That was our only lead. How are we going to find them now?"

"And what the hell was that about?" Steve said, voicing the question they both wanted to ask. "What do we tell the others?"