Stockholm

Day 13:

“Your merry band seemed awfully confused,” Loki commented, draping himself across the end of his enormous black silk bed, “What say you we make them understand?”
Tony tilted his head like a dog, unable to speak around the ball gag in his mouth. His shoulders were beginning to ache, arms bound behind his back, pushed into the bed. He felt the sinking of the mattress as his captor crept nearer, a smooth, pale hand tracing up his bare thigh.
“We could always show them why you are so obedient, my pet. I'm sure they would love to see you like this.” His voice was a hot whisper against the inside of Tony's trembling thigh.
With the hand not teasing Tony, Loki summoned a dark cloud. Like a stain of ink, it spread across his outstretched palm, swirling and rising until it rose to the lofty ceiling. It flattened over the length of the entire ceiling, turning it a misty black.
Tony made an inquisitive sound.
“Patience, my darling,” Loki crooned. With a flick of his wrist, the mist became reflective, a giant mirror showing the billionaire his own shame. “You may see yourself, but rest assured, this mirror projects directly into Stark Tower. Your associates are allowed to witness everything I plan to do to you.”
Tony gulped around the gag, suddenly feeling more naked than ever before. He mumbled something that was supposed to be “Right now?”
Loki only smiled. “I want you to keep your eyes open. I want you to watch.” He ghosted his fingers along the edge of Tony's hip, sliding slowly across to the other side, strategically avoiding any sensitive areas. Without warning, he vanished the ball gag, leaving Tony's mouth free.
He sucked in air gratefully. “They can see me?” His voice trembled.
“Every move. Every desperate quake of your body. And what's more, they can hear you.”
Tony bit back a moan. Loki's talented fingers continued to skirt his desire. His hips stuttered upward, seeking more of his touch.
“Not so fast,” he warned, pulling back his hands, refusing Tony any contact. The frustrated man wriggled, but the silky sheets offered him no friction. “I want them to hear how desperate you are for me. Beg me to touch you.”
“But...” he began, glancing up at the ceiling, which showed him a delightful image of their pale bodies wrapped in the darkness. There was no way the other Avengers were going to see him like this. “No, no I won't beg,” he decided.
Loki loomed over him. “What's this? Oh, you're a terribly naughty pet. No treat for you.”
Tony flinched as if slapped.
The god of mischief backed off, sliding off the bed. He stood with his back to Tony, somehow able to seem authoritative even while so exposed.
Tony groaned, rolling his eyes. He ached to be touched, his manhood jutting proudly, tip weeping. His arms ached, too, though much less pleasantly. This is what came from disobeying his master. Loki's words had stung. He never meant to disappoint him, but the thought of being so owned, so dominated, in front of his team...
“P-please, touch me,” he whispered, giving in to temptation.
Loki didn't bother to turn around.
Flicking his eyes once more to the ceiling, he felt a blush blossom on his cheeks and down his chest. “Master, please.”
Tony could hear the smirk in the other's voice as he said, “I couldn't quite hear you.”
Finding his voice, he tried again, a little louder, “Master, I need you. Please.”
Loki turned, bracing his hands on the end of the bed, watching Tony contemplatively. “What is it you need?”
Is he really going to make me do this? Tony wondered to himself. Still, it was a price he was willing to pay for the reward. He took a breath for courage. “I need you to fuck me, Master. I need you inside me. Please!”
This time, Tony could clearly see the smirk on Loki's face as he climbed gracefully upon the bed, wasting no time in wrapping his hand around Tony's leaking member.
All his breath came out at once in a gasp of “hah!” His hour of torturous waiting was finally paying off. As always, Loki's skin ran cold, a beautiful contrast to his fever-hot skin. Shivers traced his spine. The hand not pumping him carded through Tony's hair, tugging and scraping along his scalp.
Loki leaned down to nip along his chest, whispering against his skin, “Such a pretty thing you are.” When he noticed Tony's eyes were squeezed shut, he encouraged, “Eyes on the ceiling, love. I want you to see this.” He vanished Tony's restraints, giving him a moment to flex his cramped muscles.
Despite the relief of being unbound, Tony couldn't help but find the other's act of kindness odd. He would have thought Loki would prefer to have his team see him weak and vulnerable, not like this, with some degree of control.
The god's slender hands stopped teasing him and he almost cried. “On your side, don't look away,” Loki instructed, moving him where he wanted him, Tony nothing more than a toy in his arms.
He did as he was told, instinctively lifting one knee up toward his chest. Cool fingers traced the cleft of his ass, magically slicked. Rocking back against them, he only succeeded in getting a chuckle from his lover.
Loki's movements were calmly controlled, his body language conveying his complete authority over both Tony and the situation. He did not break a sweat as the other man did, nor did his icy skin warm with desperate passion. Instead, he circled Tony's passage with firm swirls of his fingertip, stopping to press inside.
The hero whined, thrusting back to swallow his finger entirely. Just to frustrate him even more, Loki took his time adding another finger, a leisurely smile upon his face as he watched Tony squirm. By the time he was twisting three digits deep within him, Tony was mumbling incoherently, trying and failing to keep his eyes on the ceiling. He wasn't sure he believed Loki about the others being able to see, but at this point, he didn't really believe anything other than that he needed more. He panted out the word, the only thing he could manage. “More, more...”
“Just because you're being so well behaved,” he said, shifting Tony's hip for better access. Slowly, he eased in a fourth finger, watching as Tony threw his head back.
“Yes...” he breathed, mouth agape, pupils wide and dark.
Cold breath tickled his overheated cheek. “Shall I make you cum like this? Without touching you? With you writhing on my fingers, wanton and wanting, for all the world to see?”
Tony could only moan in response, the sound choked as Loki stabbed roughly at his prostate. Though he faced the ceiling, his eyes could not focus. They were blurred with unshed tears, the stretch and the need too much. He was absolutely burning to release, all the muscles of his lower stomach twisted tight in anticipation.
Easing his fingers gently out, then pressing them surely back in, Loki drew out the torture, ghosting his free hand down across the other's chest. When he twisted his fingers, Tony whimpered.
The villain shushed him, stroking gently to ease him through the brief pain. “So brave...” he murmured, “Nearly there now.”
And he was. Tony felt the edge, he was teetering on it, but it just wasn't enough to push him over. He bit his lip, trying to push down further.
“Would you like to cum, pet?”
“I need it...please...”
“Don't look away. I want them to see. Show them who owns you.” As he spoke, his touches became more substantial than just light teasing. He took hold of Tony's length, matching the rhythm of his strokes to that of his thrusting fingers. In only seconds, he felt the hero's entire body tense as Tony came hard, moaning a sound that was one part relief, one part surprise.
As he returned to his body, he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. The clouded portal shrank rapidly until it was no more.
From somewhere in the room, Loki chuckled. “I imagine we can expect a visit after that performance,” he said.
Tony smiled weakly, head still spinning. He'd managed to keep his eyes open for most of said “performance”, but now they were threatening to close. Without anyone lifting it, the blanket rose to cover his bare form. The light went out, and Loki whispered as he vanished, “Sleep well.”