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The moon had sunk behind the skyscrapers of New York. Clint Barton dropped the curtains and turned around, having noticed a click from the door of his room, and a shadow approaching him noiselessly and without warning. Clint laughed, good-natured, as Natasha Romanoff leaned in toward him.
"It's been ages, Agent Romanoff."
"Shhh. Don't talk, please?"
Natasha's kiss was sweet and her look enchanting; Clint consciously lost himself to a labyrinth of dark green curtains, blankets and pillows. He hadn't sensed anything unusual until Natasha, sitting at the center of his desire, led him on with a triumphant air of taming a young horse.
"Come on, Clint," she was breathing heavily, "come on!"
Caressing the delicate waist and the sharp-lined shoulders of his lover, Clint contemplated all the hints he'd got during this hunting game with the Black Widow. His conclusion came with no surprise. Groaning in front of wasn't Natasha - not even a human being.
"Loki," he called.
"Loki... isn't here."
With this Natasha hugged and kissed him, settling her chin between Clint's shoulder blades.
"Loki, stop lying. I know well enough that you're the master of lies."
But of course Master Loki was capable of shaping every word into a lie.
"If you keep talking, I'll be angry." Natasha said.
The heat and weight of his lover's body was pushing him toward that hell of ecstasy. Equipped with the sharpest arrows, Clint Barton was unarguably the best archer among all the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. With his fiery weapon he carefully explored inside his imaginary enemy.
"Then by all means be angry, my king - my god." Words pierced in time with the noisy arrow of flesh.
"You dare provoke the rage of...! Ah... He... Loki isn't here." Natasha repeated in his arms.
"Won't you apologize for disappearing this long? Oh no, sure. You're never obliged to that, my king."
Brown eyes closed, Natasha had began to cry, yet Clint had no doubt about his hunter's gut instinct. Slowly he dried the tears of his lover, and the green in those immortal eyes once again illuminated his mortal life.
"Loki," he called again.
"Agent Barton." Loki raised one eyebrow.
"You talk a lot less than before."
"Keep silent, Barton. Please."
And so together they rested at the center of the labyrinth of ecstasy. Loki's kiss was tender and his look enchanting. Clint was desperately lost in the silent eyes of his former Master.
Why not say something? Why don't you let me talk?
He did not ask him. The answer would be obvious; everything Loki said would become a lie in the ears of others. Nobody had faith in the God of lies, even when Loki frankly declared the truth. To keep silent was Loki's only resolution, the best way to safeguard a god's authority, even imagined.
"There was a time when I believed in you and your lies." He began to tell a fairy tale.
"When?"
"When you controlled the heart of Hawkeye."
"Now?"
"I can't fool you. Although I've wanted to do that for a long time."
"As for me, Clint Barton, I've always wanted to tell you the biggest lie in the nine Realms."
Clint let out a sigh. His heart was once attached to the Master of lies; he knew that love was the greatest lie of all. Everything Loki thought of, wished for, desired and expected he knew. For once the two souls were attached and nothing could separate them, neither absence nor silence.
"Tell me, Loki."
It spurred a laugh from Loki and he melted away without a word, leaving only fresh air dwelling between Clint's crossed arms. The moon lamented beneath the skyline, the Midgardian night chanting over the beautiful lie of Asgard.