God's Gift
Loki rather despised them. All of them. They ought be put in place and oh he can put them, but that was not a risk he was willing to take he was rather starting to like it here. He beckons the Stark over, all amped up about taking on Steve in the ring though sure still of failure. Yet he wouldn’t back down it’s not in his nature and Loki can appreciate the sentiment. Distracted fueled by rage Tony meets not his gaze until Loki’d grasped his forearm.
“Care to win?” he says, only answered for with furrowed brows, widening eyes as with a dagger Loki emerges, puts the tip to the Stark’s mid wrist – the latter’s hand tugs to pull away but Loki keeps it in place. “Trust,” he says, as Tony eyes him perplexedly. But stills. A small, shallow line Loki cuts through the skin Stark hisses warns:
“Lok-”
“Shh,” he cooed kindly, released then to do the same of his own flesh. Althemore confused, concerned Stark watches, as Loki takes again his arm melding their wounds and he feels something, this surge this pulse, warm and fast and engulfing. Eyes squeezing shut he lets out a sigh gripping the god’s arm the latter retorting. He blinks blurs from his eyes his spinning mind and thudding heart, perceiving an odd, hazy look to the god his pupils blown wide. A slow smirk draws up those mischievous lips and he drawls: “There. Now put him in place,” released him. No wound no blood.
“What was that?” Stark asked slightly breathless.
“A theory I’d like you to prove. Go on and play with your new strengths. Just don’t lose your head,” the mage winked just as Steve barked him over. Swiftly angered even with a slight hiss over his shoulder, he shares one last look with Loki adrenaline surging. He paced to make use of the god’s gift.