It should not come as a surprise that after watching countless of times the multiple lives of an individual, one would form a certain attachment to them. No matter how horrid, boring or unlikeable they were, you just knew everything about them, understood them better than anyone ever could. You know them better than their parents, their friends, their spouses.
You know them better than themselves.
Just like all those humans on earth, sitting in front of a screen, avidly watching their fictional stories and caring about the characters. Even if fictitious, they became a part of them.
Any analyst at the TVA had spent an immeasurable amount of time watching the lives of certain individuals, mostly the more prone to cause events that would lead to a new timeline branching out. Even so, all of them were hardened professionals, watching and hunting and pruning their errant little charges with the efficiency of a well oiled machine.
Mobius M. Mobius was the best of them. For that, he had been dumped the most unruly of charges early on. The most irreverent, unpredictable, and frankly annoying of them all.
No one else wanted the honor.
And that's how the analyst toiled away the hours in the TVA watching over and over again the tragedy of Loki Laufeyson. In all of its endless variables.
He watched him be stolen from his world and his true family. Watched him grow in ignorance of his true identity, with the distinct feeling that he was inadequate and different, mistreated and neglected. Never knowing what caused others to treat him more coldly, warily, while every blessing shined freely over his golden brother. It was a sad story to watch, and for someone with Mobius’s heart, every time he had to listen to the trembling boy's sobs in the quiet of the Asgardian nights, every time he had to watch little Loki fail to impress his father, try to fit in somehow… Well, that was a part of the job he really didn't like.
Mobius consoled himself every time that even though life had been unfair on Loki in the beginning, the man's later acts were still his own choices, and every time he had to send for a variant to be pruned, he did so with a steely resolve. Even if, deep inside, he believed the god would be a magnificent being, were he to be treated more kindly.
But then the dangerous Loki variant had them running in circles, and Mobius realized that just studying everything about the god for countless times wasn't enough. Not for this particular, deeply nuanced being.
This variant was the most cunning and tricky of them all. And Mobius had pruned a Loki in his strongest, most experienced versions, so he would know. This one, this one was wreaking havoc like no other, and the analyst was starting to feel the deep well of his patience drain out.
And that…that's when he saw him.
Thrashing like a wild animal, his eyes wide and scared and yet so fierce, shining with multiple escape plans and revenge in that wonderful mind of his. A Loki, but one Mobius could easily handle.
When this one tore his vibrant blue eyes to watch him, his proud, indignant face scanning over Mobius and finding him completely lacking, the analyst forced the blossoming smile on his face to die down.
It wouldn't do to show amusement at this moment, lest this Loki think he was laughing at him, an unforgivable sin.
The verbal sparring had been delightful, and Mobius was absurdly pleased at this more manageable and amenable version, one that was full of questions and scrambled to hold onto his only known reason in life. His divine right, his glorious purpose.
It was time to dismantle that notion.
Because for as long as Loki held that belief, he would pursue it relentlessly, and Mobius wanted to break that illusion. For what he had in mind, he needed the god unburdened of that cumbersome weight that always set him up to fail…but more than that, he wanted him to break free of the constraints he placed on himself.
“You weren't born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That's how it is, that's how it was, that's how it will be.”
Mobius had stonily relied on him, seeing the other man's pain welling up at the words. Just when a pang of guilt went through him, he scoffed internally. He knew this wouldn't work any miracles, after all, Lokis tended to react unfavorably to a truth they did not like, and he was prepared for such an outcome.
It was after all that, when Mobius ran to find Loki huddled on the floor, gasping for breath in the midst of a panic attack, that he realized just how different this Loki was.
“I don't enjoy hurting people. I…”
He whispered brokenly, making Mobius’s gut twist. I'm sorry, he thought, but you needed to understand.
“I don't enjoy it. I do it because I've had to”
He was torn between being intrigued by the sudden and surprising burst of honesty, and foolishly sweet on seeing the god vulnerable and trusting. The utterly defeated view of him, humbled and broken, tore at his heartstrings, and Mobius found himself edging closer, compelled.
Don't worry, he wanted to say, I'm going to take care of you now.
“Okay, explain that to me” he whispered tenderly, coaxingly, knowing the other man would be too wrecked by emotion to pick that vulnerability out.
“Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear” the god spat out, fiercely closing his eyes as he opened up and bared his deepest insecurities out.
“A desperate play for control” Mobius acknowledged softly “You do know yourself”
“A villain” Loki sentenced, disgusted and defeated.
Mobius couldn't help but to shake his head, something raw inside him bristling at the harsh words. He knelt in front of the hunched god, watching his once powerful figure trembling and hugging itself in a desperate attempt at comfort and safety. He itched to gather him in his arms, soothe the pain away, mend that broken soul so it could rise to its full potential.
He had to conform with resting a hand on his milky, slender neck. He felt the god freeze, his body jumping at the foreign and dangerous contact, but Mobius held on with a soft but assured grip.
First, Loki had tensed like a string, expecting pain from the contact. But it never came, just the alien feeling of warm skin against his own, the weight on his neck becoming an anchoring, steady contact with reality. He started to breathe again.
“That's not how I see it” the blond agent had uttered, watching him with the softest of eyes. Loki all but gulped, trembling now for a different reason altogether. When was the last time he was touched tenderly? When was the last time he had seen someone with fondness in their eyes as they saw him?
Loki basked in the unreal warmth of it, the softness of the thumb stroking so very lightly on his neck, making him shudder and close his eyes in unbridled bliss.
Mobius drank up all those sweet reactions almost hungrily, feeling a fondness like he had never experienced before bloom in his chest at the sight of that sharp, handsome face alight in rapture at a simple, non-violent touch.
It was then that his decision was cemented. This Loki was his to care, to nurture, to save.
Even though Mobius had always enjoyed his job, there was no comparison to the excitement, the utter marvel of having Loki as his partner. It had been a struggle, but he had known he could win over Ravonna in the end. And so, he found himself walking the infinite hallways with his little partner in tow, following him dutifully as he showed him the ropes.
Patience he had in spades, so he welcomed each and every little unruly or bratty behavior of his charge with delight. He had always thought that having someone as Loki on the TVA would spice things for good, keep him on his toes. He had sometimes imagined, on bored, lonely days, what the god would say of this or that.
To have him by his side, to watch him scoff or smile wickedly, to parry with his acidic wit, to once in a while surprise him with any TVA parlor trick to enjoy the awed look in his eyes directed at him…it was a fantasy come true.
Even in a time fraught with fears and questions, Mobius found himself having the best days of his life.
Another pleasure of their new partnership was watching their relationship grow. Mobius was pleased with Loki's interest and drive, how he had seamlessly jumped into the role of investigator, a perfect partner to him, asking different questions, bringing in fresh ideas, showing his brilliance.
The man never let a good question or theory go without a heartfelt compliment.
“I was right with the apocalypse theory” Loki had said, his eyes glinting with enthusiasm, and Mobius smiled proudly, clasping a hand at the back of the god's slender neck.
“Good boy, Loki” he had chuckled low, watching avidly as a delectable flush creeped over his pale skin and bloomed on his sharp cheeks. The god's eyes widened, and he immediately looked to the ground, bashful.
That was another captivating aspect of his little god. The flustered, pleased reaction to Mobius’s pride. To Mobius’s touch. To his very eyes when he held the trickster's gaze a little too long or a little too intense.
After that, Loki always seemed to remember himself, jumping and scowling, trying to get a rise of Mobius with some acid joke. It was simply adorable.
He knew there was an alarming power disparity going on here. That his ability to control Loki through the means of the TVA, and his absolute knowledge of the god's life placed him in a position where he could easily manipulate or control him to his heart's desire.
But, to be fair, Mobius had only meant to use Loki as a partner in a complicated case, and at the most, protect him from being pruned. He gave him a new life and a new purpose, as far as his power went. The reactions Loki had to Mobius’s presence, well, that was something he hadn't planned on.
It was merely something he deeply enjoyed.
A serendipitous occurrence.
Sometimes he would place playful touches on the god's arm or shoulder, even his back to guide him along. He had gotten away with it all those times, earning a flustered side eye and stumbling words. It was impossible not to be endeared by Loki. And Mobius was hopeless.
Other times, he would stop with the praises and little touches, watching as Loki grew twitchy and nervous, scrambling to do something to earn a few words of praise from him.
Every single time, Mobius would smile fondly, and give Loki exactly what he craved. How could he ever deny that sweet god anything?
His little god was angry, and that meant Mobius had to chase after him instead the other way around. After a particularly dreadful mission, where B-15 and Loki were about to throttle each other, the mischievous scamp had returned to the TVA a thunderous mess. He had stalked off towards the elevator grumbling about mistrustful little minions and their small-mindedness, not waiting for his partner, who had groaned before jogging behind him.
“You know, it wouldn't kill you to be kinder to an older guy” he huffed as the elevator doors closed right behind his back while Loki refused to hold them for him.
Loki was still livid, but he eyed Mobius up and down quickly before muttering something unintelligible.
“What was that?” Mobius pressed on, coming to stand near the other man, enjoying how the closeness made the tip of his ears redden.
“You're not old” Loki scoffed, not looking him in the eye “You are but an infant when compared to my age. Come to think of it…” the god smirked at him “It is you who should be considerate to me, in any case”
Mobius just smiled brightly and shoved his hands in his pockets, knowing the nonchalant pose ruined the line of his suit and made him look ordinary. Or so Loki had grumbled once.
“But who of us looks like an unremarkable old man?” He parried back lightly.
Curiously, Loki's cheeks reddened, and he coughed.
“Who told you that?” He frowned, almost displeased “Not a friend, clearly”
“Funnily enough, you”
Loki turned to him, bewildered and offended, a full blown blush brightening his pretty face.
“I never would say such a thing!” He blurted out indignantly, before realizing just what he had said with such passion, and freezing.
“Not you, but a few other versions of you” Mobius explained patiently and with eyes alight with mirth, he inched closer “don't worry, I know I could never impress you with my looks”
The proximity had Loki gulping, his eyes dropping treacherously to the other man's lips and back up one, two, three times.
Interesting.
Loki seemed…entranced, bothered, in that vulnerable state he only seemed to descend to with only him.
“Those are not me and you know it” he grumbled, eyes blazing “You should be wiser than to ascribe their thoughts and feelings to me too”
Mobius frowned.
“Because you don't think that?”
“No, I don't, so I would thank you to stop putting their filthy words in my mouth” Mobius only hummed, watching said mouth intently. The soft, delicate lips that were red from its owner's incessantly nervous biting. Jealous? Cute.
“Don't worry, darling” Mobius entreated, softer “I'm not mistaking you for any of them”
“You better not!” flustered again.
“So you don't think I'm an unremarkable old man?” The analyst insisted, edging even closer.
Loki seemed unable to respond, fixated on Mobius’s face, intense blue eyes mapping his features.
“Loki, loki” Mobius murmured, unable to resist the temptation of brushing his thumb over a sharp cheekbone, the caress making the god let a whimpering sound as he chased those warm fingers like a cat, demanding yet graceful. That little sound was so very inviting, it traveled all the way to his gut, twisting it pleasantly “Sweet thing” Mobius breathed out, making the little god tremble under him.
Mobius chuckled at the sight, his large hand opening to cradle that lovely face, while his other one came to grip the back of Loki's neck in its usual commanding yet comforting gesture.
“So what do you think, Loki?” Mobius was intrigued. He wanted to know. Was it just only a person's touch? Or was it just his?
How much would his Loki let him touch?
Their bodies were brushing, Mobius’s stockier, more assured and steady, Loki's slender and graceful, curbing to accommodate the other man as he inched closer.
Loki felt…overstimulated. The heat of the man's body so close to his own, the tingle of his breath fanning over Loki's face. His caring hands stroking him so lovingly…as no one ever did.
The god couldn't think, couldn't move, just feel the pleasure and try not to break apart.
“I-I…”
Mobius frowned, and his hands traveled to Loki's hips, giving them a warm squeeze.
“You alright?” He whispered, feeling the other man twitch under his hands, lips open, eyes blown. Loki wanted, he wanted more, everything. Everything this man would give him. Even if it was just bread crumbs of attention, even if it was just for once. In his long lifetime, he had never struggled so much with wanting to be wanted by someone like this. Lovers aplenty had fluttered briefly around, faceless, careless. And he was alright with that too. A shape-shifting magical god, he was sought after to quench all sorts of desires. But that was just it, and he never felt any more than a pleasant pause to his unending misery.
But this…human. This particular human, with his ugly suit, a mustache, for Hels sake, and a six o'clock shadow that he never seems to have time or care to fix. This human with gray hair and laugh lines around bright, sunny eyes. He thought if his other versions saw him as a boring old human, they were the lesser Lokis alright.
There was nothing ordinary about this man.
Loki's trembling hands rose slowly under the steady eyes of the human, who always looked so composed, so self assured. He must know, Loki thought feebly, there is no way he doesn't know, if he knows everything. His hands grasped the ugly suit jacket precariously,just as Loki was feeling at the moment.
Mesmerized at the god's initiative, Mobius grasped his waist firmly and brought him closer, letting his hands ascend to Loki's side and caress the expanse of his back, joining them in an embrace.
Loki was pressed against Mobius’s body as stilted as someone who had never hugged anyone in his life. But it was alright, Mobius thought. You will learn, I will teach you, sweetheart. His breath shook as Loki burrowed his face on Mobius's shoulder, breathing in the unmistakable smell of the analyst. Safe, caring.
Mobius could stay like this forever. All those countless times he had itched to hug the lonely god to him and comfort him. Millions of moments where his heart ached for him, before the sweet thing even knew him. How lucky Mobius was indeed to have him, here, all to himself. His perfect partner, solving cases at his side, learning to be cared for, to be protected by him. Life at the TVA was the only thing he could offer his beautiful god, but he had taken to it marvelously, happily, and the man couldn't be more grateful.
“You are stunning” Mobius murmured, drunk with the feeling of Loki pressed against him, for real.
Loki whimpered, fisting the man's clothes, before drawing back to study his face. Astoundingly, there wasn't a trace of deceit, just bare honesty, open admiration shining in those beautiful blue eyes of his.
“Y-you” he stammered, watching the man's face close. Each laugh line, his long lashes, the blue in his eyes “y-you are too”
Ah, but where was his silver tongue when he needed it? A porcupine was smoother than that. But Mobius seemed to enjoy that, as an adoring smile broke on his face.
“So cute” he whispered, bending a little. Loki's breath hitched, thinking the man was going to kiss him, but Mobius just reached behind him, pressing some button in the panel behind them, making the doors open with a whoosh.
“How-?... When-?”
The analyst chuckled, stepping away from the god and reaching to adjust his jacket sweetly.
“You looked like you needed to cool down a little before going to face the rest of the world”
And with a winning smile, he cheerfully exited the elevator, whistling away, leaving the dumbfounded god alone and wanting, wanting.
He was simply gorgeous.
Mobius would never tire of watching him. Even when he was being purposefully irritating and childish, complaining about awful jet ski magazines cluttering their desk, the man felt warmth in his chest.
His Loki was blossoming wonderfully. He was chatting away with other analysts, discussing tactics with hunters, and over all mixing with the rest of the Agency like one of their own. Even Ravonna and B-15 cautiously admitted it had been a good idea.
The god was less jumpy, and each time more accessible to being touched. What Mobius suspected was at first too much of a good thing for him, equal perhaps to having an overdose, was less and less stressful. Now their physical closeness did not distress him as much, but the raw intensity in the god's eyes grew with each moment.
It was already difficult for Mobius to pace himself around the mischievous scamp, but the more said scamp reacted favorably to his closeness, the harder it became for the analyst to stop.
It had never been a question of wanting him. Mobius had wanted Loki from the very first moment he laid eyes on him. He wanted to care for him, love him, protect him. Be his everything. But Loki was a wild creature, taming him was a tricky road, and if he didn't want to lose his progress he had to be careful about it.
It was no deception. He was honest to a fault, and Loki knew that. The god had every power and capacity to turn away or put a stop to this. If he ever did, Mobius would respect that. Just having Loki in his life was worth it, even if the god wasn't his.
But he so desperately wanted him to be his.
He would treat him so well, would strive to give him anything he could want or need. If Loki were to give himself to him, Mobius would worship him. He supposed it was lucky the god was so distracted learning what it feels like to be cared for that he hadn't realized how easily he could play the man now. The more he learned about the TVA, the less advantage Mobius had over him. It wasn't like the first time they had met, now Loki knew the might of the Agency and all of Mobius’s tricks and tools.
The only thing he had in favor was his knowledge of the god. Something Loki would never have of him.
He hoped to the Time-keepers that it never came to using it again.
Things had sailed smoothly over the next missions, so much so that Mobius was starting to become restless. Loki had a theory, that the variant had realized how close they had come to catch them and was laying low for a time, letting the trail cool down. That left them chasing after lesser threats, and gave them time to further strengthen their dynamic as partners.
But, nothing good lasted long. Loki had been walking too straight a line lately, and it came as no surprise to Mobius that the god would fall off soon. It was bound to happen. Such was his nature.
Or at least that’s what the incensed analyst tried to remind himself as he strode furiously into the TVA, followed closely behind a team of hunters dragging their bleeding quarry. Loki was behind them all, unsure and cautious of Mobius’s dark mood.
They had rounded on the variant easily enough in a dark alley in twentieth century London. At first, it had seemed like an easy catch, except for the part where Loki started a verbal sparring with their suspect despite his partner’s stern commands, growing careless enough for the variant to jump at him and grab the god, pressing a short and rusty blade to the soft flesh of his neck.
Mobius had frozen, the situation drastically changed in a second. Loki, a hostage. Loki, with a knife to the throat. It had taken all of his hard earned grit to diffuse the situation, bartering with the desperate variant until the man had exposed himself enough for Loki to twist and deliver a quick punch to the nose and scamper away. After that, the hunters had moved fast and apprehend him, securing the variant with a bleeding nose and carrying them all to the TVA again.
Mobius should have gone straight to work on his mission report, but he was too angry, too restless, so he sought refuge in his apartment. The peace and quiet helped some, but after a moment to quiet his breathing, images flooded his brain. To see him like that, vulnerable and trapped, a drop of red marrying his silky skin… he could have died. Mobius felt his insides clench at the thought, Loki could have died, right in front of him, who had foolishly thought he could protect the god against anything.
These things never happened when his subordinates were trained and obedient, careful to keep their distance from the variants and follow protocol. But Loki was no good little soldier. He was impulsive, reckless, and too full of himself to follow Mobius’s orders.
Mobius had been too angry and too scared to confront the god upon returning. His hands shook with the need to grasp him, check every inch of him for any damage he could have sustained. His heart was wild with fear, but his mind was raging with fury.
He had half a mind to never let the god step a foot outside the TVA again.
Mobius knew he would resist, defend himself, blame him and even riot against him but so help him…the man was beyond caring.
Just then, he heard a quiet rap on the door at his back.
“Mobius?” Almost timid, Loki’s voice sounded muffled and weak “Mobius, can I come in?”
The fact that the god was even bothering to ask told Mobius that he had at least a semblance of a clue of how infuriated his partner was. Mobius could still remember the shocked look on the god’s face when the agent had bellowed at him back in the field. Mobius had never raised his voice towards Loki, never shouted at him out of anger. He was the recipient of his sighs, his exasperation, but never of his wrath.
The door opened, and soft footsteps followed as Loki entered and closed the door.
“Mobius, I-”
“What,” the silver haired man started, turning around to level him with a cold hard stare “will you come up with now to excuse your behavior, I wonder”
Loki opened his mouth, frozen.
“Just what clever excuse or wicked joke are you going to throw at me to let you off the hook?” the god frowned, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
“No, Mobius, listen-”
“I’m finding myself rather tired of your voice” the man deadpanned. It had all started with that incessant need to talk, to chatter his way through life, through a dangerous mission.
That seemed to scatter Loki’s ideas, and he seemed unsure on how to proceed, analyzing his partner carefully.
“I haven’t come to defend myself” the god started, his voice unusually sincere, at least, Mobius mused, in appearance “I know I risked the mission, and everyone in it. I know I-I disobeyed your orders”
Mobius couldn’t care less about the mission, couldn’t he realize?
“I came here to apologize” Loki ended, coming to step right in front of him, face stricken with what seemed like honest guilt.
“I am so disappointed” Mobius uttered, looking to the side, as if unable to stomach watching the god. Loki froze, the words hitting him like a knife in the gut, and he felt his body draw in on itself, as his eyes pricked faintly “I don’t think I want you going out on missions”
He lived for the man’s words of praise, for the gentle, encouraging touches, his undivided attention, his unbreakable faith in him.
“For how long?” He uttered.
The silence that followed was enough of an answer. A long time, maybe never.
“O-okay, I understand” he whispered, and he did understand. Because Mobius had reached his limit with him. For the man to be unable to look at Loki, to turn away in anger and displeasure, it tore at Loki’s chest painfully.
Pathetic. Worthless. Undeserving.
Loki gasped, fighting back the pinprick of tears, the sob working its way from deep inside him. Mobius still heard, and turned back at him, watching the god crumbling in front of him with alarm. He was still furious, but he was unable to watch the god’s pain.
“Loki, Loki,” he whispered, coming to cradle that tear stricken face between his warm hands “I do not care about the mission, I care about you” he bore his eyes into the other’s blue orbs, beseeching “You could have died, right there, in front of me”
Loki’s eyes widened, and he took a shaky breath, as his pale hands came to grasp Mobius’s wrists.
“What-”
“I was furious because your disobedience put you in danger, and I was furious because you don’t seem to care about the consequences” Mobius brushed away the cold tears lovingly, his face stern, trying to impart the message “You just throw yourself into danger with no thought of your safety, of what would happen if you died…if I lost you”
“I-I thought” Loki gulped, confused “I’m only just a variant too, at the end of the day” his eyes jumped desperately all over the agent’s face, reading him “Who cares…what happens to me?”
“I didn’t fight for your life to be spared only for you to throw it away” Mobius gritted, the amount of insecurity and lack of self-preservation that Loki was showing was deeply concerning.
“It’s just that…I don’t have anything to live for, don’t have a place in the world, my own, or any other” Loki whispered “I don’t even want to keep going for myself, like before”
“But you were doing so well!” Mobius exclaimed, disbelieving.
Loki closed his eyes, his cheeks red.
“That’s only because…I was doing it for you” the god confessed “I don’t necessarily want to keep existing, but I do, because I can tell you want me to”
“What is this? You only stay because I want you to stay?” Mobius frowned “You only exist because I want you to?”
Loki tensed, and nodded.
“I want…whatever you want” he whispered, defeated.
Loki had thought the man would be disgusted or even amused by such a ridiculous statement, but Mobius was looking at him as if entranced, his eyes alight with a million thoughts.
“What I want?” he repeated, if only to hear confirmation.
“Y-yes” Loki sighed, dejected.
Could it be?
Mobius swallowed, feeling a dangerous, exhilarating thrill running through him at the mere thought of it.
“Then…”Mobius started, caressing that beautiful face with loving fingers “I want you to be mine, can you do that for me, Loki?”
The god frowned, looking lost.
“I-I feel like I already am” he confessed. It was true, this man had given him a second chance, a second life, which was completely centered not on the TVA, not on safeguarding the Sacred Timeline, but on the simple pleasure of existing near this human. To Loki, Mobius was the sun, watching him in his magnificence as he centered and drew every single aspect of Loki’s new life into his orbit. There was nothing that resisted him, nothing that escaped his pull.
Mobius's face was so very tender.
“My good boy” he breathed out, enamored, before frowning, focusing on a little detail that had previously escaped his notice “What’s that?” his thumb stroked a silver line that ran a few inches on his Loki’s unblemished neck.
“It’s a-a scar” Loki gulped, distracted by the feeling of his fingers tracing the mark “My magic sealed the wound, but before the scar could vanish, we entered the TVA, and the healing spell stopped working”
“Is it…is it going to stay, then?”
“W-well, yes, though I could glamor it outside of the TVA, if you would prefer it” the god offered, tentatively “I could change anything you wanted”
Mobius frowned, displeased.
“Is there any other injury?” his hands started to wander, checking his face, the other side of his neck.
“I-I don’t, maybe?” it had all been a blur, and honestly, Loki was too distracted by the emotions wracking his being to even begin to feel the aches of his flesh.
Mobius grunted, growing less pleased, as his hands lowered to Loki’s tie, undoing it briskly. He then opened a few buttons of the god’s shirt, and tugged at the collar to inspect the silky stretch of skin revealed.
“Wha-” Loki was stunned and blushed scarlet, as the silver haired man continued to efficiently undress him, warm fingers ghosting delicately over his skin, watching intently.
“I need to check on you, need to see you are fine” Mobius explained, his eyes glinting with a nervous, distressed energy. Loki thought he understood now, what the man had felt, how he needed a physical assurance of his well being “If you say you’re mine, then can I see-can I see what’s mine?” the man pleaded, hands shaking as they stroked an invisible line from one exposed shoulder to the other.
Loki let out a rasping breath, the skimming fingers leaving hot trails on his body.
“I-yes” he whimpered, obsessed with the intensity behind Mobius’s normally peaceful eyes. There was darkness there, a hunger that the god couldn’t possibly believe.
Mobius let out a choked laugh, this little god… he almost felled him right where he stood with just one word. The man grasped those narrow hips of his and led the god straight into his bedroom, thinking his task would be better accomplished on a soft surface. His Loki should be placed on the most luscious and decadent of beds, surrounded by silks and all the softness of the world. He was a prince, but all Mobius could offer now was his humble, rather stiff mattress. Not to worry, he would put extra effort in worshiping him as he deserved.
When he had the god bared completely in front of him, like a goddamned gift, Mobius sighed, drinking him in.
“Gorgeous” he muttered, watching the expanse of tender, pale skin that shook with the labored breaths of his boy, all revealed to him. He was indeed ravishing, it was almost too much to watch.
“I’m going to take care of you, darling” He promised, drunk on the reality of the moment, of finally having Loki all to himself. So many years watching, learning, dreaming of this, of him “Nothing will ever touch you again, nothing will hurt you, not when you are mine”
After committing such a lovely sight to memory, Mobius joined him on the bed, letting his fingers and his lips trace over every curve, every delicious part of his beloved’s body. All the while, the god could do nothing but take. Take every little word, every praise, every brush of those lips against his skin.
When he let out a whimper or a groan, bashfully hiding his face at his utter neediness, the silver haired man had tsked disapprovingly.
“Let go, my love” Mobius had entreated softly while he adored his body “I want to hear you”
Still fully dressed, the man had covered the god’s naked body with his own; the contrast between them, the exposure Loki felt, only heightened and cemented his choice to surrender himself to this man, to let go of all fears and doubts and just be for him.
When Loki finally let himself go, when he embraced with complete abandon the love that Mobius was offering, he felt himself smile, a new feeling blooming brightly in his chest.
Maybe that was what mortals called happiness, and if such was the case, he could now understand why they would gladly forsake their freedom for it.