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"I love you." Tony lets this slip out one night, between soft puffs of breath and even softer sheets, with his legs spread wide open and a god's cock buried in him. The same old song and dance of the universe.
It never fails to amaze him that out of all creatures alive, this god would be so ensnared by a mortal. Granted an incredible one, but still a mortal nonetheless. Fleeting enough to draw attention and deal out the pain of loss.
A slow caress of that thick length against his inner walls has Tony hissing in the back of his throat. He turns his head lightly in acquiescence just as the God leans down to worry a bruise into the side of his neck. Not quite breaking skin, but clear enough a sign to any who would look. That Loki was here, just like the American flag on the moon.
Huh. The god is in the mood to draw things out tonight, it seems. Not like Tony has a problem with that. Being shoved into a wall and ravaged until he's out of breath or being ravished until he's a writhing, incoherent mess, both are good.
"That's wrong." The sensation of lips kissing that statement into his chest is fluttering and heavy at once. Tony opens his eyes - when did he close them? - to frown up at his alien suitor.
Like always, Loki's face doesn't betray his thoughts. He's amused, however, that much is clear. Tony can't ever read the god's face enough to recognize anything important passing by, but he can usually map out the twisting, spiralling intentions that are shrouded to others. Like knowing where you're headed but the way there is entirely dark.
Sure, laugh it up why don't you, Tony Stark is low enough to do something like love, Tony huffs. Then moans in surprise when Loki starts moving again within him.
"You're, hm, adorable, mortal." He's grinning, the cryptic bastard. And how is he still so coherent with his cock shoved up Tony's ass?
Urg. Gods are so not good for his mental health. Not that his mind is so healthy, look at what he's doing with the god of shittiness.
"So, what, you don't believe me? That I - that I'm in love with you?" Did he really say that? Talk about delayed shock. The calm when this ridiculous conversation started abruptly vanishes, and he's vaguely panicking. You know, that feeling when you're not fully in hysterics, but your heart is hammering away at the impending doom?
"No, I don't doubt that."
"Then what?"
"You're in love with the wrong person."
Tony realizes, suddenly, that this is not Loki trying to stop him, or undermining what he feels - why would he anyway? This is the god telling him the facts. That he's the wrong one for Tony, the quicksand that will drag him down, the fastest way to slip. The decision -
The decision is up to Tony. To continue this, to sign himself away to the devil, to -
To fall.
He hasn't stopped falling, though.
And if Loki cares enough to give him a warning, Tony -
He can take the risk.