Obsession is a dangerous drug. Such a cloying sweetness wafts inside me and devours me whole until only one burning thought remains.
“Make it mine.”
A decision so final, forcing me to weave closer, to form the most intricate plan in the hopes of quenching my thirsty desire.
Do not fear me my sweet balm, you will soon enough dance on beautifully crafted strings, your love for me will blossom like an intoxicating flower and you will not have to hide your true feelings towards me anymore after I awaken them gently.
His moves, fluent like the Silvertongue’s words they wind themselves around his captives with a glamorous grace. One would believe he was planning all along to enchant his admirers. Was he himself already one of those countless victims, swooned merely upon a shared glance? One glance, just one he tells himself, only one to reach conviction. His intense gaze seemingly starts to burn suspiciously at the back of the retreating man. The other turns, his confused and searching eyes slowly wander to his own with a hesitant uncertainty. The seemingly sturdy conviction remains atop the surface as he slowly drowns in those bottomless eyes, shining in the hazy light unlike any amber he has seen before. Deep as the void, leeching off one’s sanity with their presence alone, yet more comforting and soothing than the merciless void could ever be.
Suddenly cutting the connection with a toxic grin he masks the rising tide of inner panic. Raising one of his delicate eyebrows he dares the other man to find flaw in his lies. Wisely the confronted man only presents him with another mischievous grin of his own and resumes his swift walk, never looking back. A brute like him fighting head on should never have such swaying beauty and cunning intelligence, Asgard always proved him right until he came along. Watch him long enough and you will be pulled under by this symphony of a man. A brute and yet a delicate mage tinkering with his magic and the offspring it created, caring for it like his own children. Always adamant to call it “science” instead of the correct term. This already intelligent man just ought to see that it is, was and always will be the same.
But the most fascinating sight to watch is when the residing billionaire forgets or mentally pushes aside another occupant of his workshop when working. All his flourish and serious dedication starts seeping into his movements as the man dances across the large and spacious room with an elegant determination, amusement and enjoyment tingling in the air. And yes, inviting oneself counts as long as you remain undetected. Not even an omniscient machine like Stark’s greatest invention can stand a chance against over one thousand years of experience.
In hindsight he should have stopped those observations of his the moment his motives started to morph into an excuse. There is a saying that states that what you once see you cannot simply unsee. And he did see, only from a changed man’s eyes. It is amusing how much your intentions can muddle your sight and assessment of what is before you. The raven haired man can still clearly remember when his view on the family he once had, begun to change into something cold and terrifying.
But as many assumed, it was not revenge, it never was. His reoccurring visits to Midgard were merely an insurance and maybe some mischief took place but never more. After he was forced to concoct this plan during the nightmarish time under Him every one of them played right into it. But as usual one single individual could always spoil his well crafted plans, just like Thor apparently enjoys doing repeatedly. Luckily in this case his actions were as clear as the still surface of a lake and as easily predictable. Only one man seemed to be unaffected by the sceptre’s magic. It infuriated him, yet as time passed and he observed the mechanic he slowly started to appreciate the failed attempt. This loud enigma of a man is even more capable than he assumed, wielding more power than he first thought. Possibly an equal to him on Midgard, a successful attempt at temporarily making him an accomplice may have even derailed his plan.
~o~o~o~o~
The pull of the mechanic's existence flickers in the back of his mind, beckoning him closer like a moth to the destructively burning light. His silent feet carry him over the messy clutter obscuring the floor from sight, both men isolated from the outside world. The proximity is now short enough for his long fingers to gently trace the warmed metal framing the mesmerising blue light, its light like a mix of the deepest ocean and the casket of winters. Mysterious and always belonging to an enemy, yet there will always be the pull of curiosity making him unable to resist.
Intoxicating, this lovely sharp smell wafting wildly around them, chocking the green eyed hunter.
‘I need him.
The sleeping man shifting slightly beneath his outstretched hand, a vulnerable sight, his prey yet unaware of his stoic presence. It feeds him with an overwhelming sense of control, making him lightheaded.
‘MINE.’
The shifting rapidly increasing in ferocity momentarily snaps him out of his reverie and he starts melting into the surrounding shadows, as much to his dismay as it may be, but not before inconspicuously sending one of the workshop’s helpers over to the restless figure.