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Loki had always hated being enchanted. It thrummed like a heartbeat in his soul, with light and sound that drowned him out and made him want things he knew he didn't want. It was probably some kind of higher judgement on him, he knew - by all accounting, his previous self had been only too happy to overrule the will of others. But even knowing how much he deserved it, this enchantment was more than he could bear.
He leaned face first against a wall in an alley in a city he didn't even recognise, and moaned softly.
This particular enchantment was more heat than light or sound. A lick of desire pounded rhythmically through his body, pooling and pulsing in his cock. It shortened his breath, made him alive to touch, sensitive to the point of rawness. It made him want, things that he knew he did want but it was always inconvenient to want. And no guilty five minutes in a bathroom stall could quench this, not his own hand down his trousers. He wanted bigger hands on him. Rougher. Tough skinned, red, long-fingernailed, and nothing less than diabolism would do the trick. No gods could help him now, nor giants, dwarves... humans were right out.
He moaned again, because it helped. The alley wall was dirty, but the bricks were cool.
Daimon. He could go to Daimon Hellstrom.
A smug voice echoed in his ear, Let us see how it takes you, little godling, to desire and to be denied.
---
It was in Hell; Mephisto's realm, as a very last resort, and Loki was killing himself trying to convince the demon lord that there was no reason they should be enemies. From the look on his face - not to mention the armed guard and the heavy manacles on Loki's slim wrists - Mephisto wasn't buying what the Liesmith was selling. He kept his smile bright anyway.
"You're not still angry about that fear crown incident are you? Really friend, you ought to have known better than to assume..." The smile turned smug, as Loki could never quite hold back. "Your utter humiliation shouldn't have come as any surprise, is what I'm saying. Will you let that ruin such a potentially useful association?"
Mephisto's face as he sat in his throne could have been carved from basalt. "Not just that, Trickster."
"Then...?" Loki's brow creased, and Mephisto levelled a look at him. "Oh. Ms Amara Aquilla? That's what you're blaming me for?"
"You lost me her esteem, if you'll recall."
"I hardly think I could have done that if it had been at all enduring," said Loki automatically. Mephisto's glower deepened, and he regrouped hurriedly. "Come now, how long will you carry this grievance? Fifty years? A hundred? Because I could wait, but why bother? Ms Aquilla could have been the most remarkable mortal to walk the earth, but you, Mephisto, are eternal. You would have outlived her, and wound up alone. I barely even sped that up."
"You're right" said the demon lord drily. "Two weeks in her good graces is almost the same as seventy years."
Loki beamed. "Precisely. But seventy years? Tell me, would you have loved her as well if she had been a fool? She would have discovered your inescapably low and iniquitous nature sooner or later." The voice that Loki so loved to ignore in his own mind was whispering to cool it, but he had hit a rhythm of insults now. No sense in stopping. "If anything, I spared you a lot of pain down the line - better that it come quickly, yes? You're welcome, by the -- ah!"
The two heavily muscled demons at his back stepped up in tandem, cued by some signal Loki hadn't spotted. The manacles made struggling pointless as he was lifted off his feet. "I have had a few years, Trickster," said Mephisto blandly, "to consider how best to repay you. Open your mouth."
A thick finger was hooked into his mouth without waiting, coated with some odd sweet taste. Loki bit down, more out of contrariness than real expectation it would work, and when a second hand clapped over his mouth to prevent him spitting whatever-it-was out he gave in. He swallowed and something soft and warm spread through him. A pleasurable kind of magic that curled in the pit of his stomach, and then the enchantment took hold with a dull thud.
He gasped.
Daimon opened the door just as naked as he always was. Which was to say, fully clothed in such a way as to suggest he could be naked at any moment. Loki bit his tongue to keep his jaw from dropping. Oh, yes. Yes, the son of Satan would most definitely fit the terms of his curse. "Daimon!" he greeted him cheerfully. "You're not wearing a shirt! Again."
Daimon glanced down at his chiselled abs (and the perfect skin and the subtle vee of his hips just visible over his trousers, and those leather trousers...) and scowled. "This is my shirt, kid," he said, but stepped out of the doorway to let Loki through. "How did you find me?"
Loki ignored the question, stepping instead into the hotel room Daimon had been quartered in. Housed in. Palaced... it was less a room than a suite, complete with interesting pieces of modern art on plinths. He gave a low whistle and jumped over the back of the couch to nestle in the plush black leather. "This is nice. Working for Justin Hammer agrees with you."
"He's trying to buy me." Daimon rolled his eyes and shut the door. "I don't think he really gets how mercenaries work. Tell me you've got a better gig for me, please."
Loki laughed softly. "When have I not?"
Their relationship had always aimed to be a mutually beneficial one, which Loki thought had grown infinitely better after Daimon had stopped expecting him to actually pay him for favours. In the five or six years since the first rise of the Manchester gods, Loki had rarely ever been his direct employer. If he was, then Daimon had been working for fast food and "introductions" for years. But the introductions were usually lucrative enough to make their arrangement equitable, and even if Loki sometimes teased that he should be receiving some kind of manager's fee, Daimon hardly ever beat him up for it.
Daimon went straight for the minibar behind Loki's couch, a bar which was the opposite of mini. He poured himself a drink and tilted the bottle inquiringly at Loki. At Loki's nonverbal assent he recapped it and tossed the whole bottle to him.
"Wha?"
"It's not my dollar. Hammer should be more careful who he puts on his tab." Daimon was already retrieving a second bottle for himself. Loki laughed in appreciation.
"Excellent. Then can I have the unopened one?" There were plenty of uses he could think of for an expensive bottle of scotch. Daimon shrugged and handed it over. His fingers brushed Loki's, viscerally reminding him of his purpose here. His smile of thanks was a little wider and a little slower than was necessary, and he kicked his feet up onto the couch. "Much obliged," he murmured.
Daimon's eyes flicked downwards where Loki spread himself out, and then back up hurriedly. Loki took a slow sip from the open bottle before offering it back and Daimon took it back to the bar to get his distance. The odd moral rigour of a man who fancied himself immoral, Loki thought with a smile. He knew it well, and he could guess how long it lasted. Just as soon as Loki could get his lips around Daimon's cock, it would all be forgotten.
And, mm, that was a nice image. Loki could kneel, Daimon gripping the bar behind him for balance. Or both his hands on the back of Loki's head encouraging him, pushing his hard cock further into Loki's very willing mouth. No, no - Daimon should be sitting here, on the couch, with Loki naked between his spread thighs so that it would be so easy to just release him and climb up into his lap, sink down--
"So, out of interest," he said quickly, "just how much will mister Hammer let you get away with?"
"You know," said Daimon, drier than paper, "you could just tell me what you want."
"But I don't want to do that. I want you to tell me what you can do for me."
Keep the man talking and gather his wits, that's what he wanted. Take a deep breath and think of a plausible reason why Daimon should take all his clothes off.
And, oh, he could feel the heat of him through his clothes and through the several feet of cold air between them. His eyes followed the way Daimon moved, the way his trousers moved and creased around what he knew was inside them as he walked. He wondered how big it was. What it tasted like. It was a whole new kind of madness. He wasn't even looking at the sculpted and perpetually-naked abs, or his strong arms despite how nice they were. It was all about his cock, and why wasn't it in Loki's mouth already?
It had been the same with Mephisto, in the humiliating few minutes following his enchantment. Loki had wanted to look him in the eye and pretend at indifference, but his mouth had fallen open watering at the sight of his cock. Mephisto had sprawled back in his throne, legs spread obscenely wide, and laughed. Do you want it godling? he'd crowed, and over all the acidic remarks that rose to mind Loki had chosen to nod mutely, yes, yes he did.
When Mephisto bid him closer, he had crawled, crawled to bring his head into the demon lord's lap. He'd run his hands achingly slowly up those muscled thighs, still covered by his trousers. Mephisto had let him work open the fastenings, pull the fabric back until his rod sprung free untouched. He'd let Loki drink it in with his eyes. Let him fasten his gaze on Mephisto's as he opened his mouth and lowered his head...
Loki was well accustomed to being kicked in the stomach by now. But no blow had ever brought as much frustration as this one.
And what added insult to injury was that the demons he summoned to dump Loki back on earth were forbidden to touch him too.
"Enjoying the view?" asked Daimon suddenly, and Loki snapped back into focus guiltily. Sitting in Hellstrom's hotel room, trying to think of a way to seduce him.
"The view?" he asked as innocently as he could manage, and dragged his eyes back up to Daimon's face. He tried to remember if he'd been visibly salivating. He didn't think he had.
"You've been staring at my dick for the past ten seconds. You know, I didn't think there was anything that could stop you talking for that long."
Loki scowled. "I have been known to hold my tongue." He knew where he wanted to hold his tongue right now-- he blinked that thought away. He could still afford a little subtlety. He was beginning to stretch thin, though...
"Right." Daimon drew out the syllable, cynic that he was. "Well, you're welcome to suck it if you want, but if--"
"Really?" Loki gasped, rolling up onto his knees before he could stop himself. Daimon's eyes widened.
"What?"
"What?"
They looked at each other, Loki leaning over the back of the couch and Daimon looking like his dealing-with-Loki script had been rudely shattered. Loki could see in his face as he blinked and started looking for the angle.
Loki swallowed, hard. For a second he considered apologising and making a break for the door, but another surge of want throbbed through him. He should have been halfway into Daimon's lap before he tipped his hand. His hand should have been down Daimon's pants before he tipped it, and he cursed his own impatience. "I have a problem," he blurted.
"That's obvious." Daimon took a drink from the bottle still in his hand. His eyes, though, travelled a slow sweep down Loki's body, and Loki began to smile. Suddenly, this was salvageable.
"Not that kind of problem," he said. He arched his back, just a little, leaning on his elbows to present the most enticing view. "It's an enchantment, you see, placed on me by an old friend who's a new enemy... Demonic magic, all very complicated, but there's only one thing that can alleviate my suffering right now." He let his eyes drop from Daimon's face to the front of his trousers. Daimon didn't move.
"I think I can count the demons strong enough to affect you on one hand. What new enemy?"
"Does that matter? I don't remember. Mephisto. That's not important. What matters is that he took offence to something inconsequential and now I find myself in... in need." Loki lowered his voice to make that last word as heavy as the magic in him felt, the beat running through him.
Daimon took a long breath in. "So," he said. "You did something inconsequential to one of the most powerful lords of Hell, and Mephisto decided to..." He gestured down at Loki with his parted lips and arched back, "...make you horny?"
Loki paused. "Well, when you say it like that, it does sound a bit..."
"What kind of demon lord picks magical roofies as revenge?"
The kind that's met me? thought Loki. Daimon sometimes underestimated Loki's talent for getting under people's skin. "I can't imagine!" he said, wide eyed. "We were having a perfectly pleasant chat, just talking and then--"
"And you said something dumb enough that a demon lord roofied you. Okay, that I can believe."
That was unfair, Loki thought, but at the same time it was completely fair so he ignored it. Instead he reached a hand to his open mouth and bit down on the pad of one fingertip. The pulse of enchantment through his body meant he didn't have to fake the sultry look as he dragged his fingers down his throat, collar, chest and down behind the couch. He watched Daimon follow the motion with his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against his quickly-growing erection. "Can you indeed?" he said, looking up through lidded eyes. "I'm pleased that we have such a trusting relationship. So will you help me, Daimon?"
He was still looking dubious, but the bottle in his hand hit the bar behind him with just a little too much force and his heated gaze never wavered. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck me," said Loki in a rush, honesty creeping out the way it always did when he told too much of the truth. He licked his lips. "I want to suck your cock, and I want you to make me your whore, stretched out and filthy and over this couch right here--"
"Jesus Christ, kid. Your brother would kill me if I touched you."
"Thor won't know. Thor will never find out about this, and no one else cares." With a not-entirely planned whimper, he removed his hand from the front of his own trousers to beckon Daimon closer. Daimon took two steps before noticing, and stopped himself.
"What about your little girlfriend?"
"Leah will understand." Leah would most certainly not understand, but Loki could just lie to her. Or... Well, he could figure something out when he had the brainpower to think. It brought Daimon one step closer. "She's good like that, it's why I adore her. Hellstrom, please. This enchantment burns me."
Another step. "Burns you, huh?"
Loki nodded. "It hurts so bad..." It wasn't completely a lie. He reached out and trailed the tips of his fingers down Daimon's chest to rest on his belt, and whispered, "Please Daimon, please."
He hooked one finger through a belt loop and thrilled as Daimon let him pull him the rest of the way. He pressed a kiss to Daimon's stomach, just where his trousers ended. Mmm, his skin felt as hot to the touch as Loki had always suspected. He opened his mouth to scrape teeth against skin and worked open Daimon's fly.
Large hands landed on the back of his head and Loki suppressed a purr as his fingers dipped inside Daimon's trousers. He massaged him through his underwear, learning the shape of him by fingertips. Every second's hesitation was a chance for Daimon to change his mind, so he wasted no time in wrestling the clothing down off his hips and followed with his tongue.
Daimon's cock was fully hard, and as he freed it from its confines it fell against his cheek. He moaned aloud and turned his head to taste it, pressing open mouthed kisses to the shaft. Valhalla, yes, this was what he needed. He savoured it, running greedy hands over the hollow of Daimon's hips and dragging his tongue from the base up to the tip. Then back down to taste every part of it. The pressing urgency that had driven him here from Hell became a pulsing warmth and he hummed in satisfaction.
It was only when he heard the strangled "fuck," from above that he looked up into Hellstrom's eyes. And he grinned. The look on Daimon's face felt a lot like victory.
He wanted to tease, just to do something to keep that hungry look in Daimon's eyes. But the heat of his own blood reminded him that his affliction hadn't actually been a convenient lie for Daimon's benefit - demonic magic was thrumming insistently inside him driving his need higher and higher and higher and he took Daimon in his mouth in one smooth swallow.
Or he tried to. Enthusiasm couldn't quite take the place of experience, it seemed, because he had barely half of that sumptuous length in his mouth before the blunt head bumped against the back of his throat. He had to pull back in a hurry and swallow hard. Trying again he took too much too quickly and choked around hard flesh. Daimon moaned loudly, and Loki whined in frustration. He wanted it all, and now, and deeper, harder. He knew what he wanted, and it had never before been this difficult to take it.
"Here, like this." Daimon's hand came under his chin to steady him, and Loki might have flushed at the guidance if Daimon's voice hadn't sounded so utterly wrecked. "Fuck, kid. I-- fuck."
Gently, he pulled Loki to a new angle, one that let him slide in and out so easily. Oh, there. Loki slung an arm around his hips to better feel him move, and just revelled in it. The room was silent apart from their heavy breathing, Daimon feeding his dick into Loki's mouth and Loki sucking softly. He didn't know when, but he had closed his eyes and all there was was the weight of Daimon's cock against his tongue and the taste of salt musk crowding out all the usual chaos and noise.
He sank blissfully into the rhythm of it until he was jerked out by a hand in his hair shoving him back. "Loki," choked Daimon from above, "kid, stop." Loki didn't want to stop, but Daimon's thumb trailed down to rest firmly behind Loki's ear so that he had to turn and press an open mouthed kiss to his palm. He tasted of sweat and the ghost of leather. Loki gazed up darkly as Daimon tried to catch his breath.
"Keep up like that and I'm gonna come."
Loki licked his swollen lips. "I--" His voice rasped and he coughed. "I do want you to, Daimon. Here, let me..."
But Daimon's hand tightened in his hair, and he dragged him up the couch to kiss him with crushing force. Loki hadn't been expecting kissing, but that was- that was good. Good enough to shut him up. He opened his mouth willingly to Daimon's tongue and Daimon growled into the kiss, "Get naked. Now."
Loki suspected that he shed all dignity quicker than his clothes, and almost strangled himself in his shirt but he finally kicked off his trousers and his shoes caught up in them. Daimon was there in the next instant, cornering him against the cushioned leather and pulling his head back by the hair to bite his throat.
Moaning, he hooked one leg around Daimon's hips and squirmed. Somehow he never noticed just how much bigger Daimon was than him when that weight wasn't pressed against him. It wasn't the same bulk as an Asgardian, or even most demons, but it was just exactly what he needed right now. The strings of magic inside him sat up and purred at the proximity. Loki let them carry him away and when Daimon's hand trailed down his stomach to his cock he mewled his approval.
"Daimon," he breathed helplessly, "yes, Daimon, please, oh please..."
Daimon lifted his head from Loki's neck with a dirty grin. "Please what?" he said expectantly. Loki blinked.
"Please... sir?"
Daimon chuckled. "Please, what do you want me to do?"
Loki hadn't wanted anything much more than this, Daimon's body against him, the firm hand between his legs, but in a rush he remembered everything he could ask for. With a moan he yanked Daimon down into a filthy kiss. "I want you inside me," he breathed hotly into his mouth.
"Say please."
"Just fuck me, Hellstrom!"
Daimon growled, deep in his throat, eliciting a shiver from Loki. He saw Daimon's eyes darken. A demon in his blood, and Loki saw just how close to the wind he had pushed him. Then Daimon leaned in for a playful peck to his lips. "Bossy," he murmured, and shoved Loki onto his back with one hand.
Then he was gone, rolling off Loki and the couch and standing to reach the minibar. He laughed at Loki's deprived whimper. "Lube," he said simply, digging in the bar. Loki struggled up onto his elbows.
"Right," he said dazedly. "Oh, are there condoms?"
"No condoms," said Daimon. Loki swallowed. That thought shouldn't be so arousing. "I'm not going to fuck you, kid."
"Excuse me, yes you are!" blurted Loki. Daimon grinned.
"Still bossy. Hah," he raised a small bottle triumphantly. Thank you, Justin Hammer's credit card. "You're how old, fifteen?"
"Nineteen." Loki glared.
"That's what your ID says, is it?"
"It's what I say!" Of course his ID said nineteen. It was the oldest he could reasonably pass for, and it wasn't much good to tell people he was six-ish, sprung into being like Aphrodite fully formed. That didn't get you into the cool clubs. "I am Asgardian. Immortal. And, you know, ancient. Technically, I'm cradle robbing you!" Daimon laughed and Loki fought the urge to pout.
"Talk to me again when you can drive a rental car." Before Loki could respond, he took hold of one leg and lifted it over his shoulder. One slick finger stroked down Loki's cock, over his sac and down to his entrance, and Loki was too busy with that experience to say much of anything at all.
He let Daimon work one finger inside him, then two, writhing at the feeling of being stretched and touched so intimately. And he ignored the satisfied smirk that curved Daimon's lips. Daimon leaned forward to press lips teeth and tongue against his chest. Loki slid fingers into his hair with a pleased hum. He could see why people liked this, he thought, tilting his hips to give him better access. He smoothed his hands down Daimon's shoulders and let his legs fall apart.
He was absorbed like that in mapping out the muscles of Daimon's back when the questing fingers inside him touched something that sent a jolt through his whole body. He felt Daimon smile against his collarbone. "Hah. There it is."
Whatever it was, he touched it again and Loki cried out. It was even worse the second time. Better. More intense. "What are-- How--?" The parts of his brain that usually dealt with complete sentences shut down as Daimon applied perfect pressure and yes, yes. Better. The word was better.
"You're kidding me, right?" Daimon was saying distantly."Nineteen years old and never found your own prostate?"
Loki sucked in breath."Technically I've only existed for five or si-i--" Another wave of intense pleasure washed over him and he made the kind of noise he'd never made before. "I've had other things on my mind!"
His arms had ended up wrapped like a constrictor around Daimon's neck, his back arched like a bow. Daimon just carried on, unhurried, dragging his fingertips over that raw nerve at leisure.
Effortlessly working Loki up to fever pitch and past it and yes, yes. Just as Loki was beginning to feel that tightness in his balls that meant he was close, so close, Daimon pulled out like the bastard he was. Loki barely managed a short whine of frustration before Daimon breathed hot against his neck, "Turn over."
Loki trembled helplessly. "Yes. Oh, yes."
He was shoved unceremoniously over the arm of the couch, his face against the cushions and his cock trapped against the cool leather. Daimon pushed him forwards until the tips of his toes barely touched the carpet. "Here," he said, his hands on the backs of Loki's thighs. "Put your legs together. Keep 'em tight."
It was a struggle to turn his head, but Loki obeyed and cast a dazed look over his shoulder. "Does that make it easier?" he asked breathlessly. Daimon used one hand to smear more lube down between his thighs, the other firm on the small of his back so that he couldn't escape if he wanted to.
"Still not going to fuck you," he muttered.
"Then wha--" Loki broke off with a loud groan as Daimon lined up the head of his dick and thrust slowly into the slick space between Loki's thighs. Daimon echoed the sound and then his body was snug against Loki's, his hips pressed to Loki's ass, his cock stroking up against Loki's balls. Loki felt himself burning up from the inside out. It wasn't what he had wanted, but it was so good.
As soon as his brain caught up he squeezed his legs tighter, gripping on to Daimon's cock between them. Daimon groaned again. "Yeah, that's good," he purred. He started to thrust steadily so that Loki could feel every second. Daimon's hand on his back, the other on his ass, Daimon's hips slapping against the back of his thighs, it was just like he was really being fucked. Loki's hands tightened into fists against the leather. He couldn't imagine anything better.
No, wait, yes he could. "Daimon," he gasped, "oh, that's so good. You know what would be tighter though?"
The hand on his ass squeezed and Daimon chuckled behind him, and the hot slide between his thighs didn't even falter. Loki felt dizzy.
"Please, Daimon, I could make it so good for you. Don't you want to fuck me, Daimon?" He didn't answer at all, just continued the slick rhythmic assault on Loki's senses. "I want it so bad! What if-- ahn -- what if that's what it takes to break the enchantment?"
"Then I'll apologise," Daimon grunted with a hard thrust, "and we can try again in an hour." Loki whimpered. He was a bastard. A bastard coated bastard, with a bastard centre. Daimon ran a thumb down his spine to the crack of his ass and pushed inside to the last knuckle. "Does that help?"
"Ah, you bastard!" The couch leather underneath him was already slick with precome, and Loki bucked into it. Then back onto Daimon's cock. He controlled his breathing. "You would be my first," he purred. "You'd be the first man to take me."
Daimon made a noise in the back of his throat. "No kidding?" he said. Loki planted his face against the cushions with a groan.
He begged, he pleaded, he cajoled. He offered unspeakable things. Threats. Bribes. Ultimatums. Nothing worked, and Daimon took control of both their pleasure on his own schedule. When he adjusted his angle, leaning back so that he could slip his fingers back into Loki's ass, Loki just buried his face in the leather cushions and moaned like he couldn't stop.
He couldn't even reach a hand between himself and the couch to touch himself. But that didn't matter when every thrust shoved him against slick leather and Daimon's fingers were firm against his prostate. He came without warning, and shouted out Daimon's name.
Halos danced around his vision and he didn't resist when Daimon turned him over and pushed him up the couch. He mounted the cushions to kneel over him, working his dick frantically with one hand. "Don't move," he muttered. "Just lie there, just like that, you look so fucking good." Naked, sweaty and mussed, Loki watched in captivation as Daimon worked himself to his own orgasm. It was beautiful.
Daimon's come splattered against his stomach and he felt it all over again, blinding.
Five minutes later, he was still lying in a post orgasmic stupor, still more than a little come stained while Daimon brought him hotel towels that were softer than hotel towels had a right to be. The fucked out smile on his face was apparently a permanent fixture, as it didn't seem to be going anywhere.
"Hey," said Daimon, dropping a towel on his face. "Get up."
"No," smiled Loki. "I like it here." He swiped half heartedly at the mess on his stomach. "I'm enjoying the afterglow. That's what people do isn't it?"
"That's what people do when they're welcome."
Loki feigned a little distressed noise. "I'm not welcome?"
"Did you actually have a job that would get me out of working with Justin frothy-asshole Hammer, or were you lying about that to get me into bed?" The answer was too obvious for Loki to bother replying. "No, you're not welcome."
"Well, tough. I'm staying." Daimon crouched on his heels to be level with Loki's face.
"Great," he said wryly. "I've acquired a twink."
Loki lifted his head to glare blearily. "I know what that means. I do have the internet, you know."
"Yeah, and now I know what sites you go to."
That logic was unassailable, but Loki was too sated to care. "That was unkind, but I'll tell you what - if you kiss me, I promise not to hold a grudge."
"The kind of twink who thinks cuddling is normal after unplanned casual sex. Even better." Daimon rolled his eyes, but leaned on one knee over him and pressed an almost gentle kiss to his mouth. Loki's toes curled.
"Mm," he said softly. "Isn't it just?"