InsaneJournal

He didn’t.

Not about Strange, that is. Well, not really. The man was a brazen egomaniac, after all. And Loki already had narcissism in spades. He didn’t need extra in the people around him. Not even for the accoutrements or the decor. And while Strange might occasionally have some redeeming factors, like being an incredible sorcerer or a good judge of fine dining (both of which Loki respected and appreciated,) that didn’t mean that Loki liked him or cared about his mental well-being. Only in so far as it concerned the well-being of others. Like the previous week when Strange was acting oddly after receiving his alterego’s memories. That seemed to Loki like a good moment to intervene on the side of precaution.

Today’s intervention wasn’t so much out of concern for Strange as it was for Elsa. Elsa was important to Loki. He had a deep respect for her, both as a person and as a queen and as suspected Frost Giant. Of course, Loki knew she wasn’t of Jotunheim. But she seemed close enough for him to consider her a kind of family. Plus she was nice to him. And not a lot of people were nice to Loki. He didn’t exactly have an ingratiating effect on people. So the idea that Strange might have gone against his word and treated her with any form of impropriety—well, Loki simply wouldn’t stand for that.

Hence his decision to pay the good sorcerer a visit. Just to remind Strange that he was watching him. Watching him with a keen eye!

He’d barely lifted his hand to knock when Cloak flung the door open as if anticipating his arrival. Loki blinked a few times. “That’s really creepy, you know.”

Then he wandered into the front living space of the quarters. “Where’s that insufferable pair of shoulders you’re usually resting on?”

For a silent moment Cloak remained still as it regarded Loki, then turned around in a flourish to lead the guest to Strange’s room. It opened then held the door open for Loki to enter. The room had changed dramatically from the last time he was there. Actually, it looked nothing like a Derleth dormitory. A complicated and clever illusion had been cast to make it look larger, the walls were brown marble with columns, and the floor was tiled in an intricate blue mosaic pattern. Instead of the singular, small window where Stephen was usually found sitting beside, there was a remarkable bay window area, which overlooked a scenic view of snowy mountains which shouldn’t be possible given the direction that Stephen’s room faced.

Tucked into that space, on a dias with three steps leading up to it, was a spacious hot tub, where Stephen was found reclining in the water, nude, surrounded by steam.

“You’re letting the cold air in,” Stephen muttered, his eyes closed, speaking to Cloak, but when he opened them to see Loki standing there, he groaned, “Oh, god. You.” He looked at the Cloak, who was shutting the door behind Loki. “What part of do not disturb don’t you understand?”

“Well, at least you got my prefix correct.” Oh, god, indeed.

Loki ignored Strange for the illusion he’d cast on the room. He pursed his lips together and nodded; silently impressed by the way Strange distorted the dimensions of the room. It was a good spell. Not that Loki doubted Strange’s abilities. But he’d never really seen them. Not like this. And not from such a close angle. Usually when he came into contact with Strange’s magic it was quick and fleeting. Loki rarely got the opportunity to admire it.

He placed his palm on one of the columns. Interesting. Then the Cloak closed the door behind him and Loki was tugged out of his thoughts. He really wished that ratty piece of fabric would stop doing that. Now, where was he?

Right. Stephen Strange. Sorcerer Supreme. In a hot tub. (A Hoth tub?) And, as far as Loki could discern from the shades of color in the steaming water, in the nude.

“I must have missed the sign on the door.” Loki smirked. “Does this mean you’re paying the electric bill this week?”

To apologize for letting Loki in, the Cloak fluttered over to a far table made of ornate brass and woodwork, and with the corner of its fabric lifted a bottle of sparkling water. It brought it over to Stephen, who accepted with only a momentary glance, muttering, “We’re going to have a talk, later.”

Loki had already seen him nude before, hairless and covered in gross slime during the robot apocalypse week after the illusion of being in a cartoon animal paradise was broken. Considering that, plus how last week Loki had actually gone into his mind, what was left to hide? In any case, nudity wasn’t something he was ashamed about in general… Stephen was more irritated at having his peace interrupted than being caught without clothes.

Twisting off the bottle cap and setting it aside, he explained, “It’s part of my self-care therapy. Did you come here for a reason, or has the Cloak picked you up off the street again?”

No, he wasn’t going to address the obvious change in Loki’s appearance, since he’d already seen him and the other Lokis on campus as Frost Giants before.

Loki’s powers had been ‘on the fritz’ for lack of a better phrase. The immense cold of the planet heightened his Jotunn powers. When he was outside his body immediately clung to its natural form for protection. And while his Frost Giant powers began to push towards the forefront, his Asgardian magic fell to the wayside. For the first few days Loki tried to find a balance between the two. Sometimes it looked as though he might have found that sweet point of symbiosis, but then he’d lose his focus and one would overcome the other. It was a give and take he’d never fully prepared himself for because he’d always tried to stifle his true self. And while he wasn’t opposed to asking for help—he had reached out to Elsa for advice—he wasn’t about to show weakness in front of the other Lokis. Besides, they seemed to have it just as bad if not worse than he did. They were completely Jotunn this week. At least, as far as Loki could tell.

Except the alligator. Where the bloody hel was that reptile even?

“The Cloak doesn’t pick me up off the street.” Well, technically it had on a few occasions but that was beside the point. Strange made it sound so desperate and inappropriate. Loki flung his hair over his shoulder. That’s when he got a look at his hand—blue—and a momentary flutter of panic crossed his face. He flicked his wrist and his normal Asgardian glamour quickly covered himself.

Goodbye, azure skin. Goodbye, crimson eyes. Goodbye, Jotunn ridge markings lining his face.

Hello, Loki.

“I only came to make sure you hadn’t insulted Queen Elsa with any more of your coquettish platitudes.” Loki took a few steps closer to the jacuzzi and dipped a finger into the water. “I know you promised to be on your best behavior, but I don’t trust you.”

As brief as it was, Stephen still caught Loki’s panic and curiously watched him transform to the form he was more accustomed to seeing. He kept his own expression neutral, took a sip from his bottle, then said, “The wampa attack interrupted our plans to have dinner together,” he told Loki. “But I did send the meal I prepared for her to her room, and we discussed rescheduling to a later date, when circumstances are more peaceful. Why do you feel the need to protect her from me? And don’t say she’s a queen. I’m not a cad.”

The water was warm and inviting, and jets inside the tub blew bubbles to the surface. Stephen watched Loki closer, wondering whether or not he was trying to sneak a peek at him.

“Are you… interested in her for yourself?”

“Aren’t you? Because you read very gadabout, you know. Almost overwhelmingly so, in fact.” Loki had been paying attention to that aspect of Strange’s demeanor since New York. Before that he couldn’t have cared less. Most Midgardians and their trivial relationships with each other didn’t interest him. Bored him to tears. They had for centuries. Until recently he never would have been able to understand why Fandral or Thor could even consider them as companionable material. But Loki was beginning to learn more about them. And he was considerably more open minded now than he’d been when he first arrived.

As for sneaking a peek, he didn’t need to. He was well aware of the sorcerer’s supreme, as it were.

Loki raised a brow at the question. Then he covered his initial reaction with a mocking laugh. “Whether or not I am interested is irrelevant. I know I am not a fitting match. Not now, anyway.”

Perhaps not ever. Loki could see the potential with Elsa. But she wasn’t the type of person he would throw himself at quickly. Royal propriety aside, and yes Loki did have respect for that, he recognized that he was currently burdened with a lot of baggage. Baggage that Elsa also had. And he also didn’t know what he was capable of giving with regards to another person. And Loki needed to learn that before offering something more than just his body.

“I’m not exactly relationship material. I know. Surprising.” Loki smirked. A nod to his sarcasm.

“Gadabout?” Stephen scoffed at the word. “Since I’ve been here, the only person I’ve been with is Allison. Unlike you, the one who slept with Rick.” The way he said that name made it obvious that Stephen was kinda grossed out by the idea.

Settling down, he looked Loki over. A while back there had been this whole drama with Fandral, and while he didn’t know all the details, the scandalous apology Fandral on one knee in front of everybody at the dinner party was something worthy of cringe to this very day. However, bringing anything related to that relationship would be pointless, because Loki claimed that it never had happened… either Derleth took away his memory or (as Stephen suspected) he used magic to remove those memories. Instead, Stephen chose to speak about something more recent.

“It looks like you’re hitting it off with Mobius,” he commented, tilting his bottle to point at Loki.. “I’ve seen the way you two interact. I’d say he was enamored by you, if the journal comments I’ve read are any indication.. Anyway, that doesn’t answer my question why you are trying to keep me away from Elsa.”

Loki rolled his eyes at the mention of Rick. “Why is everyone so hung up on me being with Rick? I am an equal opportunity lover. Was Rick a foul-mouthed bastard? Absolutely. But he was interesting, unlike most of the people here. And he was nice to me. Which, I’ll admit, is not any easy thing to be. I have the unique ability to get under a person’s skin. I recognize that. But when somebody tells you that they once made love to a planet—an actual planet—you don’t say no when they make you an offer.”

At least, Loki didn’t say no. But he didn’t correlate that to him being a cad or a gadabout or anything of the sort. A handful of lovers over the course of a few months was nothing. But Loki wasn’t the kind of person to tie physical affection to emotional affection. He had a distinct mental separation between what pleased his body and what pleased his mind. And he was well adept at ensuring the two rarely crossed paths.

Because Loki knew himself well. And he knew no one deserved that. Not even someone like Rick.

Loki turned his gaze downward when Strange mentioned Mobius, focusing his attention on the water. Again he dipped his finger in and drew little circles against the bubbles.

“Mobius is enamored by all Lokis. They’re something of his pet project, you could say. I genuinely hope for his sake that he’s made of thicker stuff than he appears. We aren’t exactly a warm group. And he strikes me as a genuinely nice person.” Loki raised his head when the conversation jumped back to Elsa. “I’m not trying to keep you away from her. I just don’t want to see her taken advantage of. You’re a charming, handsome fellow, Strange. Well adept at getting what you want. I just want to make sure that she gets what she wants too. Just consider me the overprotective brother in this scenario.”

The level of introspective honesty that came from Loki took Stephen off guard. He was expecting a continuation of the argument they had over the network, insults and accusations. Instead he got what was probably the closest thing he’d ever get to a compliment from Loki. Suspiciously narrowing his eyes, Stephen wondered what sort of game Loki was playing, if he was being sincere or manipulative, and he glanced briefly over toward the Cloak as if it might have the answer: the only response Cloak made was to shrug its fabric shoulders.

While he considered his response, he noticed how Loki kept playing with the water in the tub. “If you want to come in for a dip, all you have to do is ask,” he said with a sigh of resignation.

Sometimes the truth was a better played manipulation than a lie. All the good liars knew that. And Loki was the best. King of Lies. God of Lies. Not a formal title, of course. More of a jab from Thor’s warriors once upon a time. Even Thor himself used it once, but only when he was really angry. Because it wasn’t kind. But it wasn’t necessarily unwarranted either. Loki did have a tendency to fabricate the truth more than most people. All in the name of attention.

Look at me! Look at me! Mobius was right. Sometimes he was still that little boy brought in from the cold, shivering in the shadows of greater men.

He should have done what Sylvie did. He should have changed that narrative before someone else’s story became his own. But then what? The TVA would have struck him down.

Sacred Fucking Loki or Bust. That was the name of the game, wasn’t it?

“I don’t ask,” Loki said. And he didn’t. He took Strange’s comment as an offer and immediately shed his clothes down to nothing. No embarrassment. No prudishness. Not even modesty. Parties on Asgard were far more intimate than this. And Loki knew exactly what he looked like and how other people saw him. He climbed into the jacuzzi and slowly sank down into the water. The water hissed a little from his body’s cooler temperature. “Now what? You going to continue your interrogation?”

“Bastard,” Stephen muttered the insult at Loki, but the corners of his mouth quirked into a smile. This was more like the Loki he knew, the one whose arrogant banter he’d become accustomed to online, like a game of wits. Stephen wasn’t always successful… Loki had more cunning and charisma… so that was why the Sorcerer Supreme felt the need to gloat when he did win, such as being able to bluff in poker.

Look at me! Look at me! That was exactly what Stephen was doing while Loki stripped. He wasn’t a prude, he’d seen his share of naked men… in the field of medicine… in the locker room of the gym… once or twice in the bedroom. But the way Loki casually went about felt almost like a challenge. A dare. A test. At least that was the way Stephen took it. Would he look away or not? Stephen wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. In any case, he had to admit to himself that Loki wasn’t bad on the eyes.

Along with the hiss, the temperature of the water lowered. With a hand gesture, Stephen brought back the warmth to where it was before. “Are you counting this as our date?” he asked, then took a swig from his bottle. “I might as well, since I now have you as a captive. I was going to say, Mobius may be enamored by all Lokis, as you put it, but he spends an awfully disproportionate time with you. That’s saying something.”

He then looked Loki over again. “Don’t think of it as an interrogation. Consider it a game of truth or dare.” That was what Loki had suggested during game night, before they’d settled on poker, so all Stephen was doing was bringing it up again. Make it interesting enough for Loki to cooperate and not clam up.

“Dates include dinner. Even on Asgard. This isn’t a date. This is a prelude. And I am far from your captive.” Loki leaned back against the side of the jacuzzi and let his arms fan out over the curved edge. He enjoyed the heat of the water, although his Jotunn side—which had been carefully tucked away for the entirety of its life—was less than thrilled about the increase in temperature. Loki, however, had been his ‘Asgardian’ self for much longer. He had more control in that regard. And so he suppressed his natural instinct to freeze the tub.

And then Strange brought up Mobius again. This time Loki didn’t feign his intrigue. He looked at Strange with a suspicious peer. “You’re very interested in my relationship with Mobius. Are you intending on pursuing him as well? If that’s the case, you have my full support in that regard. He strikes me as someone who’s quite spry for a man with an outdated mustache. And who can resist a man in a suit?”

Loki licked his lower lip and shrugged at this notion of ‘disproportionate time.’ “I’m the Sacred Loki. Didn’t you hear? Of course, he’d want to spend more time with me. I’m his life’s work, after all. And aren’t we all just dying to spend time with our childhood heroes?”

He grinned. Two could play at this game of wit, after all.

“I’m going to stretch my legs now. Consider this your warning.” And Loki did just that. He stretched his legs out across the floor of the hot tub and over to the other side, resting his heels on the seating edge just beside Strange’s hip. He may have accidentally—completely on purpose—brushed against his calf in the process. Then he tied his hair up into a messy bun atop his head. “I like games. Go ahead. Do your worst. Do I get to start? In that case, let’s go with the easy option. Dare.”

“There’s nothing sacred about you, Loki,” Stephen clapped back. “I’m already regretting this decision of letting you in here.”

Not really, but if he let on too much Stephen knew he’d never be rid of him, like a stray cat you feed on the back porch that keeps returning for more. Fuck. Was it already too late? Stephen eyed the location of Loki’s feet as an invasion of his space, but said nothing. If Loki was trying to throw him off his game, he’d have to do better.

“You’re the most aggravating combination of narcissism and self pity in all of Derleth. I’ve spoken with Mobius, he’s a good man, and you do him disservice by describing him that way. You won’t acknowledge how much he cares for you because you don’t accept yourself for who you are. You want a dare? Alright. I dare you to drop the illusion and show your Frost Giant form, right now.”

Loki’s humorous expression dropped immediately. He stared at Strange, jaw set and eyes dead set on boring holes in the sorcerer’s forehead. There wasn’t anything Strange said that didn’t affect Loki both instantaneously and intensely. Granted, he knew all of these things. But to hear someone tell him to his face—Stephen Strange, in particular—was something else entirely. He had half a mind to get up and leave without saying anything. And he would have. Except his ego wouldn’t let him.

Loki always had to have the last word.

He flinched at the words ‘narcissism’ and ‘self pity’. The corner of his left eye twitched from an unconscious spasm in the facial nerve that ran down from his temple.

“Just because I do not acknowledge something in public does not mean that I don’t in private. My relationships with people are my own affairs. And I am keenly aware of exactly how much every person in my life cares for me. I don’t need to accept myself in order to recognize the extent of someone else’s feelings.” Which was exactly why all of Loki’s relationships were so damn complicated. Because there wasn’t just one Loki. There was the Public Loki. The Private Loki. The Narcissistic Loki. The Brooding Loki. The Enthusiastic Loki. The Villain Loki. The Anti-Hero Loki. So many Lokis. Each of whom brought a different aspect of his personality forward. And each carefully protected by the barrier Loki put up to prevent people from getting too close.

But none of them were just Loki.

He turned his attention to the window, purposefully ignoring Strange for the mountain view. His teeth were grinding. He should have left. But he didn’t want to be known as Coward Loki. So he closed his eyes for a moment and then dropped the Asgardian glamour. And for a brief flicker of a second there was a flash of chagrin. He was not comfortable in this skin. When he looked up again it was with dark red eyes, accentuated by the thin ridge-like Jotunn markings on his skin. “Your turn.”

The way Loki’s expression fell gave Stephen a surge of triumph - he was given a challenge to do his worst, and he succeeded, going straight for the jugular. There was also a sense of satisfaction, speaking his mind regarding Loki’s behavior. These were thoughts usually kept to himself, every time a new Loki Drama unfolded over the network, built up over time so that it felt good to finally say it to Loki’s face (although Stephen had held back somewhat… he could’ve been more vicious).

Triumph quickly faded to grave concern, specifically upon noticing the eye twitch. Shit. Have I gone too far? As much as Stephen considered Loki a huge drama queen, he also had a strong suspicion that he was holding onto sanity by a thread. The erratic way he reacted on the journals when Natasha was killed for the week by ghosts was his first tip off, but there were other instances that were just as worrisome. Had Stephen been considering Loki’s general mindset, he wouldn’t have been so ruthless, but his own narcissistic need to be superior had blinded him, the same as when he gloated over his poker victory and incited a physical attack.

Tension built in Stephen’s shoulders while listening to Loki’s speech, expecting another lash out. On the outside, he remained still, but internally he considered different strategies he could take to defend himself, just in case. When Loki finally shifted form, Stephen wondered if he should call off the game, but realized if the tables were turned, Loki’s reaction would be just like his own… there would be no retreat now. And the intense gleam in those red eyes suggested Loki wanted to have his due.

“Truth,” he said, confidently. He had nothing to hide, so he thought.

Loki was always hanging onto his sanity by a thin thread. In that sense, Strange wasn’t wrong. Also, the last few weeks—perhaps one could even say the last few months—had been incredibly difficult on Loki. He was struggling with who he was and who he wanted to be. Every time he tried to be a different Loki, a better Loki, something happened that derailed everything he’d worked for. The seven weeks he’d spent in the Real World had been a perfect example of Loki at his best. He’d been responsible, quick to action, helpful. He showed he could be a true leader if he wanted to be. And he’d been happy there despite the obvious negative aspects. He liked the person he was during those weeks. Someone who could make a difference. Someone that other people actually looked up to and went to for help.

And then Derleth took that away from him. Then Derleth made him a villain with fangs and an insatiable bloodlust. Then it taunted him with songs and an escape meant only for those who found their soulmate. And then Michael degraded him. Shamed him in front of everyone. And now everyone had forgotten the Loki who rescued people from the Matrix.

They only remembered the bad. Because there was so much more bad than good in Loki. So many more mistakes than righteousness.

Strange was right. Loki was full of narcissism and self pity. And he lied about his feelings for people in order to keep them at a distance. And he was purposefully cruel because he hurt. And because he was incapable of healing his own pain.

Truth.

Good.

“Does it hurt?” Loki rolled his head from one side to the other before turning that blood-red gaze on Strange. “Does it hurt knowing that all of the power in the universe—in all of the universes—will never complete you? That one day you could stand on top of everything, soak up all the knowledge of every magical being in the multiverse, and you will still be a small man incapable of tying his own shoes. Tell me, Doctor. Does it hurt knowing that despite all your magic and all your power, your hands still shake like the worthless mangled broken waste you made of them?”

At first, Stephen didn’t know where Loki was going with his verbose question. What did he mean by never complete you? He narrowed his eyes at the man across the tub, but it didn’t take long before he understood. Loki went there. Which was fair, because Stephen had done the same, but now the tables were switched and it was his turn to be stunned speechless.

His expression went blank. Stephen rarely spoke about his hands, being a sensitive topic. Oh, Loki knew exactly what he was doing, using his words like a dagger inserted with precision to make the worst amount of damage. Frustrated and angry, Stephen frowned and forcefully pushed Loki’s feet off the seating edge beside him with a splash It took a few seconds more for him to calm himself down enough to speak, but it felt much longer.

“Truth, huh?” he checked even though he knew, He could just gloss over it with a simple reply, but that wouldn’t satisfy Loki, would it? He’d keep needling until he got his due, so might as well get it over with. He lifted his hands out of the water, looking at the garish scars that disabled him.

“I have the ability to heal myself right now, to restore my hands. But the spell is such that it takes absolute concentration, so I wouldn’t be able to use magic for anything else. It’s a trade off, and an ever-present reminder of my hubrus. And with an ego like my own? It’s what I needed. These hands, which made me so proud, needed to be shattered so my whole world view could be shattered… and then built anew to make me a better person. The pain used to be a lot worse, physically and psychologically. I’ve more or less gotten used to it, but there are aspects that I really miss.”

Loki knew his question had been a knife wound to the gut. That had been the point. That’s what Strange had done to him. Granted, Strange probably could have struck harder and more personally if he wanted to but he’d penetrated that cold exterior Loki endeavored to keep up around him. And that seemed to be enough. Then again, Loki was always more sensitive than he let on. Strange might have been able to bristle him with something less shaming.

He smirked when Strange shoved his legs off the bench. Then he readjusted his position, feet flat on the floor of the jacuzzi. He’d watched carefully as Strange’s mind worked through the question and eventually sought the inevitable conclusion—the sharp edge of the dagger—with amusement. But it wasn’t the same amusement he used to have. Not that gleeful villainous smirk he’d had when he fought the Avengers in New York. No, this expression was different. He was glad he hit a nerve. But he didn’t feel good about it. He didn’t enjoy it as he once may have.

He had to give Strange credit though. For his honesty. Loki had half expected the sorcerer to try and portal him naked out into the middle of a snowbank.

“Fair enough.” Loki looked at Strange’s hands while they were held out. He’d never really paid much attention to the scars until he’d gone into Strange’s mind and tried to help extract the painful emotions he’d received with his new memories. By most people’s standards, they might have looked gnawed and deformed, but Loki knew there were worse scars a person could have. Scars unseen by the naked eye.

He dropped his arms from the side of the hot tub and into the warm water. “Dare, if we’re still playing.”

Because far be it for Loki to risk the truth.

The wind had been taken out of Stephen’s sails with his response, he wasn’t feeling irate, or even competitive as before. If anything, he would’ve been happy just to sit back in silence and let the steam soothe the creases of his troubled brow. If we’re still playing, Loki said, and Stephen almost took him up on that by putting the breaks on the game, but ending after such an intense round didn’t seem right. He wanted to let Loki know that he really didn’t hold any grudges against him.

He was also relieved that Loki didn’t pry any further as to what were those aspects that he said he missed.

Dare… dare… what was a good dare? “Give me a minute to think of one,” then asked, “Did you want something to drink?”

Settled once more, he said, “That was a kind thing you did, having that tent party at the beginning of the week. Oh! I’ve thought of something.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Open your phone and let me look at it for… one minute.” Stephen almost asked for five, but he’d already made Loki uncomfortable with his body, he suffered enough for now.

In retrospect, after Loki had a few minutes to digest the heated exchange he’d had with Strange, he was glad they’d both taken off the gloves for those first two rounds. It let out a lot of the heaviness between them. That stark tension which often accompanied two people of vastly notable—and comparable—egos. Not to mention the fact that they were both teetering on a precipice of good and evil in a way. Loki had always been on the side of the villains, whether or not that was warranted. Now he was walking that thin line in between. The memories that Strange had received could have very easily put him in a similar position. They actually had a lot in common, which was probably why they rarely got along.

Although, Loki did enjoy their evening in New York. More than he’d let on. A lot more.

“No, thank you. I learned a long time ago not to mix drinks with games of truth whilst lounging in a tub of hot bubbles in the company of naked men.” Loki smirked. “I always get myself in trouble when I do.”

He raised a brow when Strange mentioned the living room fort night Loki had spontaneously thrown on the first day in Hoth. He shrugged as though it were nothing. “It was as much for myself as it was for everyone else. What can I say? I was feeling selfish and tired after the previous week. I wanted the company of people who were equally as tired.”

Loki hadn’t said much about it, but he’d really enjoyed that evening. Back on Asgard he never would have been able to do that. He never had friends. Hel, he was surprised that people actually showed up in the first place. Even more surprised at who did.

And who didn’t.

It was a good learning experience for Loki.

“My phone?” He shot Strange a suspicious stare. Then he removed his hand from the water, rolled his wrist, and his phone appeared in his palm. He paused for a thoughtful moment before unlocking the screen. Then he reached across the jacuzzi and handed it to Strange. “If you’re looking for nudes you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Sadly, no one here has asked me to pose for them like a French girl.”

Wink.

“When was the last time you got drunk in a hot tub with naked men?” Stephen asked, dubiously, but it was spoken in jest. “You’re just trying to make me jealous, but it won’t work.” He took one final sip from his sparkling water and made the empty disappear - two could play the vanishing / appearing act. He rolled his eyes at how Loki described his motivation for having the party… making it sound as though he was only thinking about himself when Stephen knew better. “That’s right, I forgot,” he sarcastically said, “You’re a villain, mea culpa.”

As soon as Stephen got a hold of Loki’s phone, he immediately began fiddling with the apps - he anticipated Loki was going to be strict with the time limit and was mentally counting the seconds.

“Funny you should mention nudes…” Stephen opened the camera and directed the phone at Loki…. “Smile.” … then snapped a picture, and quickly emailed it to himself. “Posting this all over the network… joking. Or am I?” He then opened the messaging app….swiiiiipe, scroll, scroll, swiiiiiipe, scroll, scroll, scroll. What was he looking for? Anything private, really… a conversation, an exchange of information. A block of text caught his eye, one he’d never seen posted over the network, made private for only Loki to read. It wasn’t a message that hadn’t been sent… it read like a diary entry, with Loki baring his soul in his typical verbose fashion, but with raw emotion about something that happened to him in the past that Stephen hadn’t heard about before.

The minute passed too quickly to read it all, so Stephen handed Loki his phone… but not before he closed the message app so Loki couldn’t tell what he’d been looking at. He read enough to know what Loki experienced, but decided to hold on to it for now, to process and decide what he was going to do with this information at a later time.

“Nice collection of cat memes you have collected. Okay. Dare me.”

“It’s probably been a few centuries. Back on Asgard. In the real party days. But some memories never leave you. And don’t tease me. Coy doesn’t suit you. And I know you’d never be jealous of that.” But Loki liked the game. He enjoyed the coquettish pretense they kept dancing around. That wasn’t something he’d expected from the illustrious Doctor Strange. He’d always struck Loki as too straight-laced and formal. Not the sort to dig his heels into a debaucherous interlude with a trickster god. Then again, Loki was wrong on occasion. Not often, but sometimes. And as much as he hated to be wrong, he could appreciate the rarity of those moments.

And he did love surprises.

Another half hearted—or seemingly so—shrug at the idea of him being a villain. Should he have been more concerned about Strange going through his phone? Perhaps. But a minute wasn’t much time. And after Michael’s bold performance last week, did Loki really have anything left to hide?

Yes.

But that was the risk of the game. And Loki didn’t expect Strange to stumble upon anything interesting. What were a few flirtatious texts here and there in the grand scheme of things? Then again, there was always—

“What?” Loki blinked, confused, at the exact moment Strange took a photo of him. Then he rolled his eyes. “By all means. Send it to everyone. After last week’s big reveal of my personal life I’ve been feeling a bit like three-day-old leftovers. Maybe this will help remind people of why they should pay more attention to me.”

Which, of course, was just another front. Loki liked to flirt. He relished in the discomfort it gave some people and the confusion it gave others. It was just a game like everything else. He knew he couldn’t expect it to ever be more than that. And like his glamour and his big talk, it was a wall to protect his very sensitive emotions.

“I like cats. I’m thinking about getting one the next time we’re on a planet that has them.” Loki raised his leg so that his blue toes could peek out above the water. Then he slid around the jacuzzi until he was sitting directly beside Strange. Almost hip to hip. He plucked the phone out of his head and it disappeared to whatever magical hiding place Loki kept his valuables. “Mmm. A dare…”

That was an unexpected choice. And so many tempting possibilities.

“I dare you…” Loki’s eyes drifted from Strange’s face downward, eyeing the bit of torso he could see above the bubbles. Then he slowly raised his gaze. His lips curled into a taunting smirk. “...to let me shave your goatee.”

There were some things bubbles inside a hot tub couldn’t hide, specifically the way Stephen’s body was starting to react despite his effort to the contrary. It was easier to maintain composure with Loki sitting across from him, but once he settled in closer? He stoically tried to ignore how he was beginning to get aroused, willing himself to stop by distracting his mind with other thoughts, and hoping that Loki…shit... Loki looked down. Maybe Loki hadn’t noticed? He maintained eye contact, even though his instinct was to avert his eyes… Stephen didn’t want to show even the tiniest bit of embarrassment because he’d never hear the end of it. Yes, there was a spell he could use to prevent any further embarrassment, but it would require hand gestures that would make it obvious, again giving fuel to Loki’s amusement.

His frustration culminated when Loki announced his choice of dare.

“Ffffffuck!” Stephen tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. What a Loki sort of request… to put a finely sharpened razor at his throat. “Here? Now? In the tub?” Shorn whiskers could always be magically cleaned, that wasn’t a big concern - Stephen just couldn’t imagine how Loki was going to manage. He then glared straight at Loki. “If you make me bleed, you lose. The dare is to shave me, not turn my face into a bloody mess.”

Did Loki notice? Well, let’s put it this way. Loki knew what he was doing. He had a lot of practice. A thousand years of it, to be precise. So, if Strange didn’t have a reaction then he would have been severely disappointed. (Or maybe intrigued.) Regardless, he didn’t overtly let the sorcerer know whether or not he picked up on that particular erotic response beneath the water. Because that would ruin the game. Likewise, it might ruin the tension. And Loki didn’t want that. Loki wanted this trick to last as long as possible. Because the longer it lasted, the more impression it made on Strange’s mind. And the longer it would linger in his thoughts after Loki left.

“Of course, here. Of course, now.” Loki lifted his right arm out from beneath the bubbling water, a razor-sharp blade in hand. Not one of his normal daggers. Oh no. This one had a flattened edge. Better for shearing or cutting thin slices. Not for stabbing.

Although, it could serve that purpose as well.

“If you move too much then your bloody face will be your own damn fault.” Loki turned towards Strange. In his left hand a dollop of shaving cream appeared. Loki leaned in close and gently spread it over Strange’s chin and around his mouth. “Do you think it’ll make you more or less attractive? I’m assuming less otherwise you wouldn’t have the beard in the first place. Or maybe it’ll just make you look younger. Baby Face Strange. Guess we’ll find out.”

Once the cream was properly lathered, Loki raised the blade just below Strange’s chin, in that soft patch of skin near the neck. “I like these trust games. They really bring out a person’s most interesting characteristics.”

He slid the blade towards the chin, shaving away the first patch of hair.

Stephen blew air through loosely closed lips to get off the shaving cream Loki smeared across them, not wanting it to get inside his mouth when he spoke… if some accidentally got on Loki, then oh well. “Seriously? You think I’m going to flail around when you have that machete?” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back to give Loki better exposure to his chin. “I’ll have you know when I was a surgeon, I was always clean shaven.” The words came out sounding like a boast, because it was… Stephen considered himself handsome either way.

“Are you going to take all day?” he mumbled. Then came the cold touch of steel, the scraping against his skin. Loki had to lean across to get to just the right angle while still sitting at Stephen’s side. It was awkward and probably dangerous, but it also brought their bodies even closer together, wet skin against skin, chilly where Loki made contact, but not uncomfortably so.. Loki’s warm breath was felt upon his face, and Stephen’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard before becoming mindful of keeping still again.

All the while, he was mindful of how his prick was still not cooperating.

“Shh. This is an artform. Take pleasure in it. No one else in this place is ever going to do this for you. And if they do, they won’t do it nearly as well as me,” Loki said, delicately sliding the blade along Strange’s jaw. Up and over the chin and then very close to the lower lip. Then he flicked away the excess shaving cream off the blade, dipped it in the hot water, and brought it to his face again.

When he felt like Strange wasn’t steady enough, Loki leaned in closer and held his face on the opposite side from where he was shaving. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Loki was always adept with knifework, but this was a different level of precision than what he was accustomed to. And yet he still managed it with graceful finesse.

He’d done this before.

“Always clean shaven? Only on your face, I presume.” Loki smirked, easing the blade underneath his nose. The metal fogged up with every exhale from the sorcerer. “I love a good beard. Experimented with a few myself once or twice. But I think my face is too pretty to be covered up. I don’t exude the same allure without the smooth lines. Besides, my jaw is one of my more enticing attributes. Everyone loves a sharp angle. Especially the kind you can cut yourself on.”

Loki dipped the blade in the water again. Then he tilted his head from one side to the other thoughtfully. “Alright. Don’t move. This last bit is a tricky one. And I don’t want to slice open your mouth.”

Loki stood up and straddled Strange’s lap, one knee on either side of him. He didn’t sit. He didn’t touch anywhere except the outer sides of Strange’s hips with his inner thighs, extra careful to avoid the burgeoning problem beneath the bubbles. His hand lowered until it was around Strange’s throat in a half chokehold. Then he swept the blade along that soft corner along the upper and lower lip. First the right side. Then the left.

Voila!

The knife disappeared from his palm and he wiped his hand over Strange’s face, removing the excess cream, and taking a good long look.

“Hmm. Decidedly more ordinary now.” Loki stood up and drifted back to the other side of the jacuzzi.

If Stephen was really being honest with himself, he’d admit he was enjoying himself. Frustrated? Yes. Annoyed by Loki’s arrogant speech and not being able to respond because he didn’t want to get nicked? Definitely. But somewhere between the timbre of Loki’s silvery voice, his surprisingly gentle touch, and the possible (albeit low) risk of getting his throat slashed, was such a turn on that Stephen was angry with himself for feeling that way. The one thing that didn’t disturb him was having his beard shaved off. How many days until the next reset? Two? It would return soon enough, and the most he’d get was some razzing and questions why he’d shaven. However, the memories of how it had been done was going to last much longer.

Especially when Loki straddled him. Surprised, his eyes shot open and made contact with Loki directly in front of him, his mouth slightly agape, breath caught in his chest, and heart racing. If Loki would just lower himself a little bit further down into his lap… but no, he was purposely being a tease. The hand went around his throat and instead of resisting, Stephen’s eyes fluttered shut (subconscious submission?). If Loki had decided to complete his work with a kiss, he would’ve been ready, but instead…

Shit.

If Stephen was frustrated before, it was no comparison to how he felt after Loki slipped away. It was also embarrassing for easily he’d let Loki seduce him. Eyes still closed, because he couldn’t stand to look at that smug-ass face smiling across from him, Stephen finally muttered, “I hate your fucking guts.”

“I know you do,” Loki said, brushing his foot against the outside of Strange’s calf. “But that’s what you’re missing, isn’t it? Someone to hate? Someone you like to hate? There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all need a foil. Someone who represents everything we despise whilst simultaneously being everything we desire. I’m more than happy to play that part for you.”

Loki pursed his lips together and made a kissing sound. “But next time we’re that close, you better watch out. I might bite.”

He winked. Then the illusion swept over his body; returning him to his normal flesh-colored Asgardian appearance. Pale skin. Black hair. Stark blue eyes. The Loki everyone knew.

He turned around, back to Strange, and climbed out of the jacuzzi. Presumptively languid movements in order to give Strange the best view possible. Sleek muscular back, firm buttocks, legs that could have been carved from marble. Loki might have been a Frost Giant at birth. But he had the body of a god. As he should have. He, too, was a son of Odin, after all.

Once he was fully out of the tub he used magic to dry himself off. Then he created the illusion of a towel around his waist before turning around and smiling at Strange.

“You know, less than a handful of people in the entire universe have seen me in my Jotunn form.” Loki shook his hair out of that bun he’d tied it up in earlier, allowing it to fall upon his shoulders. Then he met Strange’s gaze with a sharp, attentive stare. “I didn’t have to show you that. No game could ever force me to do something I don’t want to. I enjoy being on top, but not at the expense of my pride.”

Loki made his way to the exit, slowing once he stood in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”