AN: H'okay! I'm going to be posting the first part of this story, but please note that the possibility of it being entirely complete is little to none; THIS part will be complete, but part 2 is still pending. This is something I wrote a while ago, and it's been sitting unpublished on my computer ever since. I figure it's time to share it with people who might enjoy this sort of thing.

WARNING: Underage, molestation, rape, almost-but-not-quite Stockholm syndrome, murder

Ask me not where I come up with these things, nor why I seem to romanticize non-con - it's not at all something that should attract people, and yet I read it and I write it... the fact that we romanticize non-con is probably part of the reason why it is difficult for society to accept rape and molestation as what they are (i.e. bad things that emotionally and physically traumatize the victim). So please don't think it's a good thing or a sexy thing; it's alright if you want to role play, but make sure you have safewords and practice/play with someone(s) you trust. Aaaaannnnd the lecture is over. Whew. Onward, men!

The first time Tony encountered a god wasn't when Agent brought over a video of Loki coming out of a portal announcing his 'glorious purpose'. It wasn't even when he read about Thor being banished to New Mexico. No, Tony's first encounter with a god happened when he turned fifteen years old, on the day his nanny was finally let go.

OOO

Tony was a bit sad to see Ms. Sarah go, having been with the old hag since he'd been born. She was the only real mother he'd ever known, but his fondness for her wasn't reciprocated. The woman hated picking up after him, hated being criticized by his father for raising Tony to be such a failure, and most of all she hated his intelligence. Still, even if she didn't like him, she'd been the one to raise him and Tony couldn't help feeling something for the only adult who gave him the time of day (even if it was only to scold, lecture, and correct him).

He helped her with her suitcases, handing them over to the cabby that had been called, and then he watched as she left him without even saying goodbye. The car rolled away, getting farther and farther, until it finally turned out of the driveway. He was fifteen years old today, and he lost the only parent he really had – one who had apparently never cared for him at all.

It hurt.

His father and mother, Howard and Maria Stark, didn't give a shit about him so long as he didn't embarrass them. He'd accepted that, not having seen much of them, but Ms. Sarah. He'd thought she was different. He'd thought her harmful words were meant to better him, not ruin him, but he was wrong. She cared nothing for him, nothing but for the cash his father had paid her. And now she was gone and Tony was so alone. He was responsible for himself now, and he hated it. He hated the thought of having to take care of himself when his parents were alive and well enough to do it for him. He hated his parents for ignoring him, for only caring about the hoops he jumped through to please them – and he hated them for always finding fault with his accomplishments.

Tony was a genius. He was going to graduate high school this year, top of the class, and he'd already gotten his acceptance letter to MIT with a full-ride scholarship, but neither mommy nor daddy acknowledged it. Tony snorted scornfully at those too-familiar and too-loving terms. He'd not even called his parents that when he'd been a baby; they hadn't thought it befitting of the Stark heir to speak in such a plebeian manner. Everything was always proper with them, from speech to clothing to hair-style.

But Tony wasn't perfect; he wasn't much like Howard, as his father would have preferred. And now that Ms. Sarah was gone, Tony was undoubtedly going to get into trouble because no one would stop him or help him out if he needed it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, but the thing wouldn't go down and it was getting worse the longer he stood staring at the empty drive. He turned away and walked around the mansion towards the large garden out back, where the late spring flowers were blooming and the young leaves were swaying in the breeze. The walk cleared his head a little, making his determination rise as he told himself he would finally, finally, do something to impress his father. He'd build his own robot or something – that was sure to get his attention!

Tony collapsed on a cement bench and tried to blink away the dampness that built up in his eyes, angry with himself for feeling like a failure before he'd even begun the project, angry that he was still smarting over Ms. Sarah's lack of goodbye, angry that nobodycaredabouthim. Tony didn't want to be weak; he didn't want to cry like a stupid baby. He'd done enough of that when he was a kid, and there was no way he'd keep doing it now that he was a teenager and almost out of high school. He wiped his eyes and straightened his back, telling himself to man up.

Something moved in the bush right across from him, and Tony froze. He was just startled, not scared. It's not like they had wild animals around here or anything. Tony was safe.

He caught a shine, like light reflecting off an eye, and he decided that even racoons could be dangerous if they had rabies, and it was really only a tactical retreat, not fleeing out of terror. He glanced behind his back multiple times, uncaring that he was acting like every idiot in the horror movies he'd watched. He wanted to know if something was going to jump out at him.

Nothing did, though, and Tony's heart slowed as he finally reached the patio and was let in by the maid. One last glimpse proved that nothing was amiss, and Tony put the whole thing behind him.

OOO

That night, as Tony got ready for bed, he felt a sense of foreboding. Every little sound, from the wind against the windows to the steps of the maid in the hall, made him jump. He couldn't explain why he felt so... he didn't want to say scared, but the only other option was preyed upon, and that seemed a lot worse than just being scared. Scared he could handle: fear could be irrational, so it wasn't necessarily anything but his own mind making him feel like this. Maybe it was the lack of Ms. Sarah tucking him in, or maybe it was just him being stupid. But if Tony said he felt preyed upon, then it meant that something outside of himself was making him feel this way. He'd cautiously checked outside of each window, peering into the night and seeing nothing. He'd looked in his closet and under his bed, hell, he even looked inside the shower and the bathroom cabinet, but there was nothing.

He took a deep breath and held it until his heart stopped racing. Eventually he let it out and took several more deep breaths. There, he was just fine. It was just that Ms. Sarah was gone now and Tony was afraid of being alone, but he was fifteen and he was old enough to be on his own. Other people did it all the time, and Tony was a genius so he really shouldn't have any sort of problem with this.

He shimmied under his blankets and turned off his bedside lamp, ready to fall into an easy slumber.

Creeeak.

Tony's hand flew over to the lamp and flicked it on even as he nearly got whiplash for sitting up so fast. The light suddenly seemed dim, unable to illuminate all the dark corners in his bedroom, and Tony's heart kind of hurt as it beat against his ribcage. From what he could see, there was nothing in his room that hadn't been there when he'd first turned off the light. His breath sounded loud in the silence, and he realized abruptly that the maids would have all gone home by now – so who's footsteps had he heard in the hallway earlier?

Tony didn't have a weapon in his room. There was no gun or knife hidden beneath his pillow, nothing to defend himself with but his own two hands. As much as he hated it when his father ranted on and on about the glorious Captain America, Tony kind of wished he'd paid a bit more attention to it. Captain America didn't use guns or knives to fight: he had a shield and his hands, and that was it. Maybe if Tony had listened he'd have learned how to fight. He silently swore to himself that he would take up boxing or something, anything to learn to defend himself.

A shadow moved near the doorway and Tony stiffened further in fright. Was it a killer, a kidnapper? Would they hurt him, or would they make it quick? Tony was only a kid – he wasn't ready for something like this!

The person stepped into the light, making Tony's breath hitch as he saw how tall his attacker(?) was. He had to be six foot four or something, and while he didn't look burly he stood with a certain confidence and grace that made Tony uneasy. He wondered if he should negotiate or threaten or, fuck, if maybe he should scream as loud as he could.

"W-who are you?" he stuttered, voice wavering even as he tried to keep it strong. "What do you want?"

The man smiled, and that smile was all teeth. It was like an animal baring its fangs in warning or in threat, ready to pounce and devour after tearing its prey to shreds. Tony's mouth was dry and he shivered uncontrollably. He felt small and weak, and it was the worst feeling in the world. Even those jerks at school, the jocks who liked to push him around, didn't scare him like this. This was the primitive fear of something you know could – and maybe would – kill you easily, carelessly.

Those eyes were green and cat-like, and the glint reminded him of the rustling in the bush he'd heard earlier today. Had it been this man? Had he been scouting territory, preparing to break in and – and hurt Tony? Tony didn't like the way those eyes reflected the light, like they were other-worldly and non-human. It was terrifying. His hair woven from darkness itself, but his skin was pale. The contrast between skin and hair was startling, and Tony wondered if this guy was even human. Monsters weren't real, but this man was – and he was worse than any monster Tony had ever read about or seen on TV.

Since the man didn't answer, Tony automatically decided that screaming was the next best thing to negotiating or threatening. He quietly sucked in a breath and let out what should have been an ear-piercing scream.

Nothing came out.

Tony's voice was gone, and he screamed and babbled futilely as the man slowly drew closer. His feet made no noise on the floor, and Tony had to wonder if maybe the footsteps and the creak he'd heard earlier were intentional, sounds purposefully made to increase the teenager's fear. It worked, if that was what he'd meant to do. Tony was so scared he couldn't move; the fight had already left him and the time wasn't right for flight yet. Yeah, Tony was just waiting for the opportune moment to flee. He wasn't just sitting here uselessly because he couldn't move.

When the man was nearly at his bed, Tony forced himself to jump up and make a run for it. He darted around the maybe-man and sprinted for the door, only to be caught by the collar of his pyjamas and hauled back onto the bed. He was shoved down none too gently, that cool (too cold to be human) hand pressing down with such force, inhuman force, that for a moment Tony couldn't draw breath. His lungs refused to accept air, and panic set in. His ribs creaked beneath the hand that held him down, and his lungs felt pressurized at the lack of air. His throat ached, an odd sort of sting that grew the longer Tony went without air. He kicked and clawed, eyes bulging and mouth opening soundlessly and breathlessly in a scream, until at last, at long last, the pressure was lightened and he could breathe. He greedily gulped in air, wheezing and ignoring the tears that slid down the sides of his face. His throat and chest ached sharply, the sensation dulling only slightly the longer he breathed.

The not-man brought up his other hand, the one that wasn't occupied with holding the teenager down, and he softly brushed his thumb along tear-tracks. "You are quite beautiful," he murmured.

Tony stared up in horror at those words, feeling something worse than fright fill him as he realized that there was something other than kidnapping and killing that someone might do to him. He'd never considered rape. He'd not thought anyone sick or stupid enough to try to touch the son of Howard Stark in that way. "My dad will destroy you," he voicelessly threatened.

The not-man laughed at that, lowering his head until his breath ghosted over Tony's quivering lips, and he whispered, "There is no man on this pathetic planet of yours that could ever harm one such as me."

Tony had thought about it; he'd considered it and thought this being a maybe-man or a not-man, but he hadn't thought the... whatever it was, man-shaped though it might be, might ever confirm Tony's fears. But there it was. The creature spoke of Earth as if it were not his planet and made himself out to be something other than human. Tony wondered what he could be, if he were some kind of demon from Hell.

He didn't have the chance to ask.

The creature's mouth pressed against Tony's in the parody of a loving kiss. It was soft and gentle, yet Tony sensed the darkness beneath. Like the ocean on a calm day, the kiss appeared smooth and unthreatening, but hidden beneath that were currents ready to sweep him away, and even further down was the crushing weight of the water that would destroy him.

"You would do well to return my affections, young Anthony," the creature warned before lowering his lips once more.

What choice did he have? Here was a being that could easily break every bone in Tony's body, and Tony's only saving grace was that maybe the creature would leave once it got what it wanted. Tony stifled a sob and began to mimic the movements the monster made. Their lips moved slowly, and the pressure grew steadily as the monster pressed harder against Tony's mouth. "Open your mouth," it demanded quietly.

Tony obeyed, and the thing's cool tongue swept in, mapping out Tony's mouth. It slid against each tooth, across the roof of his mouth, and finally it pressed against his own tongue, encouraging him to push back until their tongues slid against each other's. There was a trail of spit sliding down Tony's chin, and it was absolutely disgusting and he wanted to wipe it away, to pull away, but he was scared. He was terrified that if he did the monster would get angry and become violent.

A hand moved down his stomach, sliding slowly toward the top of his pyjama pants, and Tony started to struggle again. He'd rather break a rib than have some monster's dick inside him! Quite suddenly Tony found himself incapable of moving more than his head. He was completely paralyzed, unable to do so much as twitch his fingers or toes. His eyes widened and voiceless pleas and sobs escaped him. He didn't care about the spit anymore. His chest was rising and falling steadily quicker while panic clenched his heart. He felt like he'd be the first fifteen-year-old in history to have a heart attack.

"Settle down, darling," the monster soothed. "I promise I shall not take you yet; you are too young."

Yet. Tony's mind latched on to that word, repeating it over and over. Yet, yet, yet. Yet implied there would be a time when the monster would take him. Yet implied this was not going to be a one-time nightmare experience. Yet implied this creature would be back and Tony, who was only now too young, would at some point become old enough. His breath hitched as the tears worsened, and his fear, which he had thought was as much as he could experience, escalated.

The creature above him tugged down his sleep pants until they were bunched around his knees, and then it sat back and stared. Its eyes were intense and its hands followed their path, ghosting along Tony's thighs and hipbones before pausing at the slightly-new pubic hair that surrounded Tony's genitals. Those long fingers pet the downy hair in a strangely affectionate manner before reaching to grasp his flaccid penis. He gasped and uselessly cried out, screaming threats and obscenities that did nothing but make the monster chuckle.

"You are untouched, I see," it surmised. Then its face was in front of Tony's own, and its eyes were darkened with fury as it spat, "You will remain so until I take you. Do you understand?" When Tony didn't reply, it promised, "Should someone have you before I do, you will suddenly find yourself to be an orphan. Now tell me, Anthony: do you understand?"

What could he do but nod? He nodded frantically, and the monster smiled sweetly at him, placing a feather-light kiss on his mouth before returning his attention to Tony's still soft penis. The creature grasped it with its cool hand and began pumping it, trying to get it to harden, but Tony was terrified and in no way responsive. The monster growled, and its green eyes flickered up to meet Tony's. No words were needed for Tony to understand that if he didn't get an erection soon bad things would follow. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to block out every thought of what this creature was doing to him. It wasn't some alien fisting him: it was Kayla from his physics class, Kayla with her gorgeous blond hair and blue eyes, Kayla with her shortened skirt and D-cup breasts that pressed against her uniform top so wonderfully.

His penis finally began to harden, and it stood up farther the more he thought of Kayla being the one gripping him. She was probably the sluttiest girl in school, but she was also the hottest. He imagined her having snuck into his room to do this, to fist him and bring him release. He shuddered and gasped, thinking of the time in September when he wind had lifted up her skirt and shown the world her thong. Her ass had been something to see, and whilst Tony was hesitant about girls (it was hard not to be when he was always surrounded by people older than him), puberty had finally struck him. Most of the times he'd masturbated had been to thoughts of her, and he pretended that this was no different.

The hand quickened, and another reached down to cup and gently massage his balls. Tony moaned silently, wondering how many times Kayla had done things like this. It was almost torture being unable to move, unable to buck into her hand. Finally it became too much, the fire building until Tony burst. He gritted his teeth and pressed his head hard into his pillow as he spilled over that hand. When it was over, he slumped back and tried to catch his breath as his pants were pulled back up – but he didn't open his eyes, not wanting to see that it wasn't actually Kayla who'd brought him off.

"When you sacrifice to a god, your thoughts should be of him – not of some pathetic mortal," the monster informed him coolly.

Tony's heart jumped into his throat and his eyes opened wide to see the monster glaring down at him. It looked calm as ever, but there was a cold wrath in its eyes. The look had Tony's adrenalin racing once more as he cursed himself for not even considering the possibility that this creature could read his mind.

Wait...

"God?" he croaked, and this time his voice was present, scratchy though it was.

The monster smirked, caressing his face with a (somehow) clean hand. "I am Loki Odinson, young Anthony. You should feel honoured to have caught the interest of a god," it claimed.

Tony didn't feel honoured at all; rather, he felt cursed. (And wasn't that always how the stories went? Tony hadn't read much of Metamorphoses, but he was 100% sure that there were stories of gods coming down to rape whatever mortal caught their fancy. If any of that had actually happened, then Tony could hazard a guess that they felt about as honoured as he did right now.) But Tony had his voice back, and, god or no god, his mind was racing too fast for him to think too hard about anything except getting his molester away from him.

He screamed.

Tony had been entirely unaware that he was able to make such a loud sound. He really would have preferred finding out in some other manner.

The self-dubbed god snarled at him, gripping his throat until the scream wavered and died with a choke. "Have I not said that no man here could harm me?" he sneered. "You do naught but call your father to his death."

"No!" Tony shouted, begged, "No, please! Please don't kill him!"

"And why should I not?" Loki wondered angrily.

Tony heard his father's footsteps thudding along the corridor, knowing he'd be here in no longer than a minute. Tony couldn't think of a single reason for this supposed god to spare Howard; however, maybe because Tony wanted his father to live it would be enough? Trying not to think too hard, Tony leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Loki's. He went to pull away, making it no more than a peck, but the monster's hand gripped the back of Tony's neck and dragged him back. Loki's kiss was harsh and demanding, nothing like the soft and patient kiss from earlier.

Just as Howard reached for the door, Loki pulled back and smirked, deeming Tony's offered kiss, "Satisfactory."

Then he was gone, vanished into thin air, and Howard burst into the room with a gun raised up in threat. When he saw his son unharmed and alone, Howard glared and snapped, "What the hell was all that screaming about?"

Tony opened his mouth to maybe tell him, to say that there'd been someone claiming to be Loki Odinson, a god, in his room. Then Tony's eyes flickered to his windows, all of which were locked up tight, and the door that his father had come in by. Howard Stark was a man of science. He didn't believe in gods or magic (maybe not even in God), and Tony claiming to have seen such things would not be met kindly. He wondered what his father would say if he learned his son had just been molested by another man. Would he care, or would it just disappoint him that Tony hadn't been able to fight off his attacker?

"Why are you crying?"

"I – I had a bad dream," Tony stammered.

"A dream?" his father repeated incredulously. "You woke me up screaming bloody murder because of a dream? What are you, five?"

"I'm sorry," Tony apologized weakly.

"Grow up and act like a man," Howard scoffed. "Only babies cry because of bad dreams."

"I'm sorry," Tony said again.

"Be quiet already and go back to sleep! I don't want to hear another peep out of you; you'll be barred from your lab if I do. Understand?"

Now tell me, Anthony: do you understand?

Tony nodded and then watched as his father firmly closed the door and left him alone. He waited until he couldn't hear the shuffling of feet in the hallway, and when all was silent once more, he pulled his knees up to his chest and sobbed. He was a Stark, and that name meant power and privilege. He'd never felt more powerless and abused in all his life.

OOO

The next day Tony dragged himself out of bed and forced himself to get ready for school. For the first time ever, Tony skipped breakfast and didn't pack a lunch. He felt dirty and small and terrified. What if Loki came back tonight? What if someone found out what had happened to Tony? He was sure that the guys at school would laugh at him and call him queer, even if he hadn't wanted it. He was already picked on for being smarter, younger, and weaker than everyone else – he didn't need this added to that. So while Tony would really like to find someone willing to help him, like maybe the police, he didn't lie to himself. He was a genius: he knew that telling anyone what had happened wouldn't do anything but get him yelled at by his father and laughed at by his peers. The tabloids would write stories about his home life, and if there was anything that made Howard angrier than Tony being Tony, it was when his family life was gossiped about in the paper.

That night he was sitting in his lab, working on schematics for a robot. He wasn't sure if he could do it yet, but he was still sore about being called a baby by his father. If he could do this, then he'd be the start of a technological revolution. Robots could do things normal people couldn't, and if Tony could actually make one, then it was possible that someday people wouldn't have to go to war or mine deep in the earth, like he'd learned about in school. Robots could improve human life, and Tony was so ready to do something his father would praise. Howard wouldn't be able to do anything but gape!

The TV distracted him.

"...Kayla Anderson, a local high school student, was found brutally murdered in her home—"

Tony didn't hear a thing after that. Instead he stared unblinkingly at the screen as the news team showed footage of the crime scene. The body was gone, no doubt laying on some cold table for an autopsy, but there was still something in the bedroom that captured the camera's interest: written in blood, real blood, Kayla's blood, were the words "Do you understand?"

Tony's heart stuttered and he clutched his chest, breathing sharply. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. He'd been thinking about pretending the whole episode had been a dream – and now this. Tony couldn't tell himself it wasn't real if there was evidence staring him in the face like this. He knew who'd done it. He'd been thinking about Kayla when Loki had touched him, and the apparent god had been angered by it. Why wouldn't he do something like this? Was there even a way to stop him? Could Tony ever go to someone and tell them who'd done it?

No. No, there was no way he could. If he couldn't even admit to having been molested by a monster possessing superhuman strength and the ability to teleport, then how could he tell anyone that that same monster had killed the girl he'd liked?

He couldn't.

OOO

Tony saw Loki often after that first encounter, and every time he did seemed to be worse than the last.

The second time was almost a repeat of the first, except this time Loki demanded Tony stare at him as he jerked Tony off. He didn't even have the courtesy of making it quick. His hand moved slowly up and down Tony's erection, pausing every now and then to swipe at the weeping tip or dip down to fondle Tony's sac. It took half an hour for Tony to reach his peak, but before he did Loki commanded him to say his name. When Tony came, it was with the god's name on his tongue and the god's satisfied face leering down at him. Tony never made the same mistake as that first time. Although he wasn't attracted to or turned on by Loki, if he focussed on the touches they eventually became pleasurable and his body would respond.

The third time, Loki showed up, he bade Tony tug down his pyjama pants and pleasure himself. Loki watched as Tony quickly made himself erect, and then he took out his own dick and began speaking softly about the way he loved how Tony's cheeks flushed, how breathless Tony's voice was, how Tony's brow would furrow the closer he came to completion. Loki came first, groaning out Anthony, and then he helped Tony along while using his ejaculation as lube.

The fourth time, he made Tony touch him, made Tony wrap his fingers around that human-looking dick. Tony hadn't ever touched anyone but himself (and that he rarely did anymore), but he did as ordered and gripped Loki's dick. The god watched through heavy-lidded eyes, panting and groaning as he told Tony how perfect he was, how warm and wonderful and right his hand felt. Tony tugged until the god's cum splashed on his chest, and then Loki dipped a finger in it and smeared it on Tony's lips.

It escalated each time, getting more and more intimate, and on Tony's sixteenth birthday Loki had the teenager blow him. If Tony had felt apprehensive about jerking Loki off, it was a hundred times worse when Loki pushed him to his knees and told him to suck. Tony couldn't fit more than half the god's dick in his mouth without gagging, and whenever he accidentally grazed his teeth on Loki's dick, the god's fingers tightened painfully in his hair. Tony's chin and neck were covered in his own spit, and Loki told him it was endearing to see how innocent and inexperienced Tony still was. He petted Tony's hair and praised him when Tony did something he enjoyed, saying he was a quick study. When Tony saw that Loki was about to ejaculate, he began to pull away, but Loki held Tony's head in place until Tony swallowed both his rising vomit and the spunk in his mouth.

On his seventeenth birthday, Loki finally penetrated him. He undressed Tony and made him kneel on the bed, and then he pushed Tony down until his face touched the pillow. Tony begged him to stop, to do something else, but Loki shushed him. Then the god pressed a kiss at the base of his spine and spread his cheeks. He told Tony how beautiful he was, how his hole was a lovely shade of pink, and how it quivered cutely in anticipation. Loki's thumbs slid down and caressed the skin surrounding Tony's hole, and then a slick finger dipped in. It was followed by another, and Loki groaned that the sight aroused him, proven by the unclothed erection he rubbed against Tony's thigh. Then the god began finger-fucking Tony, each time pushing in at different angles. He found Tony's prostate easily enough, and Tony jerked and gasped at the new sensation. Loki laughed, sounding genuinely pleased, and he picked up the pace until Tony was writhing and whimpering. He made Tony come without once touching Tony's erection, and he spent himself on Tony's thigh at the sight of the teenager losing it. After he left, Tony cried into his pillow, hating Loki for making him orgasm, but hating himself more for feeling any pleasure at all.

Sometimes Tony wondered if it wouldn't be better to refuse the god and be smitten; death just might be preferable to this slow-acting poison.

The worst part, above all the unwanted touches and the forced reciprocation, was the fact that Tony never knew when Loki would show up. Sometimes he'd appear once a week, other times Tony didn't see him for a few months. It was frustrating and nerve-wracking because Tony felt like he couldn't go out and do anything. The first time the god had been left waiting he'd warned Tony never to do it again, and Tony was too wary to ignore the threat, fearing he might lose someone else like he'd lost Kayla.

His entire life revolved around being home in case Loki decided to visit, and the only thing he could do while waiting was school work. He overloaded on his courses each semester, ignoring the advisors who warned him he'd burn himself out and the profs who put him down or insulted him, and he graduated MIT summa cum laude after only two years of attending.

OOO

His graduation was eventful in that his parents showed up to beam for the cameras, which was more than he expected, really. But his father had a business meeting on the other side of the country, and his mother wanted to go along for the California beaches. Tony left his graduation alone, feeling cheated again. Shouldn't his parents be proud of him? He'd graduated in two years, top of his class! Yet his parents didn't care. His father had a business meeting, and that was obviously more important than staying to have a celebratory dinner with his son.

Tony slammed the door shut as he entered the house, ordering the servants to get the hell out because his parents were out of town and he in no way wanted company. They complied, and he watched from his window as they all left until, at last, he was blissfully alone. It had to be his natural state; why else would no one want him? No one human, anyway.

"Congratulations," a familiar and unwanted voice whispered in his ear as arms wrapped around him and held him against a familiar body.

Tony tensed and futilely asked, "Can't you come back tomorrow?"

Loki twirled him around, smiling brightly as he teased, "And miss the celebration? Anthony, this is a time to rejoice! You have finally proven yourself to be an adult!"

I promise I shall not take you yet; you are too young.

"No," Tony corrected, keeping the panicked tremor out of his voice, "Adults are eighteen in America, and that won't be until next year. Actually, drinking age is twenty-one, so arguably that's when we're considered adults."

"Hmm," Loki pretended to consider, and then he concluded, "I cannot wait another year, my darling. You have blossomed into a beautiful young man, and it would disappoint me to have to wait any longer to claim you."

Tony hated how Loki always called him beautiful. Beautiful was for women or queers, not for men like Tony. Not that Tony ever said so to Loki's face.

Loki kissed him, quickly dragging it into the realm of passionate. Tony could feel the god's excitement pressing against his stomach, and he had a hard time kissing back when his mind was so preoccupied with the thought of what would come next. Loki's dick was larger than Tony's in length and girth, and it was bigger than the fingers or the toys the god had previously shoved up Tony's ass. Tony wasn't ready for this, would never be ready for this. It'd been over two years and Tony still couldn't bear the thought of having his virginity forcefully taken.

It wasn't that he was a pansy and thought his first time should be special; it was just that he used to think his first time would be something quick and embarrassing with a woman who wanted him only for his name and money. He'd have preferred it. But Loki had threatened to kill his parents should Tony touch anyone else, and Loki had killed Kayla just because Tony had liked her. Loki didn't have to tell Tony that should anyone but he take Tony's virginity, then that person's life was forfeit – but only after they'd been tortured into insanity. And then Tony's parents would die, and Tony would likely be tortured himself for defying a god.

"Please," Tony pleaded, loathing the tears that slipped from his eyes, "please, can't you wait a little longer?"

Maybe Tony could kill himself before their next meeting, and then he'd never have to see this monster again.

"Oh, my Anthony," Loki sighed affectionately, "you need not fear this so. Your body is sacred to me; I would not ruin it. Take heart, for this night will bring you closer to me."

That was exactly what Tony was afraid of.

Loki kissed him again, cradling Tony's cheeks with his hands. By now Tony knew better than to fight or be unresponsive, so he returned the kiss. Their mouths moved against each other with practiced ease, and Loki dominated the kiss as he did everything else. The god's hands slid from Tony's face and down his neck to lie on his shoulders for a moment before dipping down to unbutton Tony's shirt. Once the shirt was undone, those hands slid up to sweep it off Tony's shoulders, palms pressing gently on the teenager's body. Loki divested him of his undershirt as well, and then he undid Tony's belt and slid it slowly out of each ring. It dropped to the floor with a soft thud, making Tony gulp. Fingers smoothly undid the button on his slacks, and pulled down the zipper, pressing close enough to graze Tony's dick. His body was so well trained after two years and at least two dozen encounters that his cock began to harden. He felt Loki smirk into the kiss, undoubtedly feeling satisfied with Tony's body's reaction.

Tony's pants dropped, and it took no time at all for his boxers and socks to follow. Loki laid him out on the bed, then he sat back on his heels and placed Tony's ass on his suddenly naked thighs. Tony's legs were spread wide, lying on either side of Loki, and he felt completely exposed. For a long moment Loki remained unmoving, his gaze heated as he stared at the mortal spread out before him. "Are you ready to become mine, Anthony?" Loki asked, breaking his stillness.

The honest answer was hell fucking no, but the response that came out of Tony's mouth was, "Yes."

"Yes what, my darling?" the god prodded, smoothing his cool palms along the top of Tony's knees.

"Yes I'm ready to become yours," Tony answered obediently.

Loki hummed with pleasure and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Tony's lips. He continued nipping, kissing, and lapping his tongue along Tony's neck while his fingers began preparing the mortal's anus. The god took his time, taking minutes before adding a new finger. He pressed kisses all along Tony's chest, nibbled lightly at his collar bone, and pinched and sucked at his nipples. Not once did he touch Tony's erection; his unoccupied hand roamed along the teenager's body, pressing and rubbing and teasing, but it avoided Tony's dick. Seeing Tony's questioning glance, Loki stated, "You will reach completion through penetration alone, pleasured only by sheathing me within you."

Tony swallowed, hoping that what Loki wanted to happen would happen, since there would be consequences if Tony failed. Loki had always been exceptionally gentle with Tony, considering how much stronger the god was, and Tony didn't want to find out how much weaker and frail he was in comparison. Keep the god happy, and he wouldn't be rough.

Loki pulled out his fingers and covered his cock with lubricant under Tony's nervous gaze. He positioned himself, the head of his penis pressed lightly against Tony's asshole, and then he stopped. His free hand lifted Tony's chin so their eyes could meet, and Tony saw anticipation and lust and passion in those green eyes, and he couldn't help but wonder what Loki saw in Tony's eyes. Was it fear, apprehension? Or maybe his eyes were empty, his conscious thought gone in the face of this? Whatever it was, Loki smiled fondly down at him and began pushing in.

Tony was glad he'd sent everyone home. At the breaching he cried out loudly, a wordless shout of pain. The god got it over with all at once, pressing in to the hilt and then pausing to give Tony time to get used to being impaled. Loki wiped away his tears and gently praised, "You are exquisite, so, so beautiful. Can you feel how perfectly I fit within you? It is as though your body were made for me – I knew it would be so the moment I saw you. You are mine forever until the end, my Anthony." Tony choked on a cry and turned his head away, but Loki's hand guided his face back and the god softly chastised, "Do not look away, my darling."

Their eyes met again, and Loki gripped his hips then slowly pulled out before thrusting back in. He watched Tony's face, catching every minute twitch and expression, and altered his thrusts to bring the most amount of pleasure and least amount of pain. Tony's hands twisted in the sheets while his body slowly became used to the intrusion. Eventually it stopped hurting, but it didn't feel very pleasant still. When Loki was inside him, he was too full, and when Loki pulled out, he felt empty. He was stretched further than he'd ever been before, and it was uncomfortable. How long would it take for his anus to return to normal? If Loki kept doing this, wouldn't Tony eventually have problems holding his shit in? There was a reason the anus was tight!

A gasp escaped him as Loki struck his prostate, and then the god was hitting that same spot with more force than any finger or toy ever had. Loud cries and moans filled the room, along with the sound of Loki's balls slapping against Tony's ass and the wet suctioning made by the lube each time Loki thrust in and pulled out. None of Tony's previous experiences had been this loud, and he was embarrassed by the uncontrolled noises that came out of his mouth. But when he bit his bottom lip and tried to muffle them, Loki rasped, "Cease! Let me hear how much you are enjoying this! Oh, my Anthony, to look upon our joining! Your body clings to me when I leave you, desperate to draw me back – you are bereft without me! You are perfect, so perfect—"

Loki's words broke off with a groan, and the god panted as he neared completion. Tony himself was almost there; the incessant striking of his prostate and the friction against his passage were drawing him closer and closer. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open, but he forced them to remain so until his orgasm sent his thoughts spiralling. His back arched and his head pressed hard into the pillow while his mouth opened in a silent scream. Loki's thrusts gathered speed and strength until he too came, spilling his seed into Tony.

Silence filled the room but for their panting breaths, and Tony gathered his mind again to finally examine some of the words Loki had spoken. He was especially interested in the part where Loki said Tony's body was made for him and he had known it the moment he saw Tony. Loki nuzzled his neck and Tony wondered if now might be a decent time to get some answers. "Why – why did you... pick me?" he asked hesitantly.

Loki lifted himself up on an elbow and caressed Tony's face with a look of serious contemplation. Then the god smiled and replied, "It was your eyes, full of tears and pain and life. One can read your entire life's story through your eyes, my Anthony, and it is a tale that stirred my heart."

Words like that were supposed to be romantic, but they felt tragic for Tony. If Tony hadn't gone into the back garden after Ms. Sarah left, or if he'd hidden his eyes behind sunglasses, then Loki never would have found an interest in him. Tony might have been happy. Tony might have still been in MIT, and he might have been having fun. He would have had sex with a woman his first time, and he likely would have slept around a bit just because he could. Now... now Tony was chained down, unable to seek happiness or fun and unable to really enjoy sex – and it was all because of his eyes.

OOO

Tony's life continued as it had before, only now he was in graduate school and 'molestation' turned into 'rape'. It felt wrong to call it that after so many years, but Tony was a genius and he knew there was a serious chance he already had or would develop Stockholm syndrome. The fact that he had trouble calling what Loki did to him molestation and rape said a lot. He didn't feel any fondness for the god, but there was a certain... comfortableness with their interactions. Tony had long since given up hope that he had any control; if Tony asked for something and Loki gave it, it was for no other reason than because Loki wanted to. Loki could easily deny him anything, and there was nothing Tony could do about it. If Loki wanted sex, slow or quick, soft or hard, this position or that, he got it. If Loki wanted to spend the night kissing languidly and cuddling while feeding Tony weird Asgardian fruits and cakes, it was what they did. If Tony didn't feel like doing something, he did it anyway because whenever he protested Loki would gaze at him steadily until Tony realized he was stupid for thinking he could do or get what he wanted. So maybe Tony kind of had Stockholm syndrome, but it was only because that was the only way he'd live through this (which was exactly what having that syndrome was about).

It was unhealthy, and even though Tony was still alive, it was slowly killing him.

OOO

On December 17th, 1991, Tony finally spoke up.

"I can't do this anymore," he said clearly.

Loki's hands paused mid-caress and his eyes turned cold. The half-smile slid off his face, replaced with a nearly completely emotionless mask. "Would you care to repeat that?" he dared.

Tony suppressed a shudder at the sharpness in the god's voice. It was the knife's edge; one wrong move and blood would be spilled. But Tony was dying. He was alive, but he was dying. He had two Masters Degrees, having graduated this past year, and he'd done nothing with himself since, too scared to even breathe. Either Tony would end this or he'd end his own life. He lifted his chin up and repressed a flinch as he met Loki's eyes. He repeated, "I can't do this anymore."

"And why not?" Loki wondered silkily.

"Because – because I can't live if you're here! You're stifling, strangling me! It's been five years and I – I haven't done a goddamn thing!"

"Oh? Did you not graduate thrice in the time I have been with you? Do such accomplishments mean nothing?"

"No! I mean yes – I – look! It doesn't matter how much schooling I've got! All I ever do is sit around and wait foryou; I can't go anywhere on the off chance you'll show and be pissed that I'm not waiting for you like a fucking housewife! How am I supposed to live like that? No woman will ever have me if you're around!"

Loki ran a hand through Tony's hair and laughed, "Oh, my Anthony, you have never, nor will you ever, have any woman. What brought these thoughts on, my darling?"

"Nothing! Christ, will you just listen? What if I want to get married or have kids? What if I want to travel the world or party?"

"You have never been one to think on mortal marriage and children," Loki observed with a frown. "Tell me who has put these thoughts in your head. Who would dare try to take you from me?"

"They don't even know about you!"

"They? Multiple offenders! My! What shall we do with them?"

"No! Loki, I – I'm sorry! I didn't mean – I just – please don't do anything," Tony begged.

Loki's eyes narrowed for a time, and then a cruel smirk flit across his face as he surmised, "There are only two you would defend with such vehemence. Tell me, my darling, have your parents been trying to wed you to some mortal?"

"They haven't," Tony denied. "All they did was ask if I was seeing anyone – I swear that's all! They didn't even talk about weddings or kids!"

"And yet this question is enough for you to try to turn me away."

"It isn't like that!" Tony protested. "I've never wanted you here; it's only now that I have the courage to say it!"

A moment of silence stretched out between them, the air thick enough that motion seemed impossible. It felt like time had ceased, the globe had stopped spinning, all but for a moment – and in that moment Tony recoiled at his own rashness, his own stupidity. Aside from that first time, Tony had never blatantly stated (let alone shouted) that he didn't want Loki. Even though he despised Loki, even though he'd like nothing more than to see the god hurt or dead, he wasn't dumb enough to say so to the god's face. Doing that would be asking for trouble, asking for the guillotine to fall on the next victim.

The world rushed back into motion, and Loki's stricken face turned furious. Then he slammed Tony onto his bed and palmed Tony's cloth-covered dick. It twitched with interest, with habit, and Loki snarled, "You say you do not want me, yet your body tells me otherwise. All I have to do is touch you, speak to you, look at you, and your body sings for me. You are desperate and wanting in my presence – you have never before turned me away, so do not lie and say you have never wanted me!"

Tony kicked out at him and struck him in an attempt to get out from under him. As his fist met Loki's face, his body froze and fell back onto the bed, flopping uselessly like a dropped doll. All he could do was blink; he couldn't even open his mouth to speak. Loki glared down at him, and then he very quietly vowed, "You will be sorry for that, my darling. I might have been persuaded into letting those blasphemers live had you not chosen to argue, had you not tried to strike me."

No. No!

Tony's eyes widened and he tried to silently and motionlessly plead. He would apologize! He would never mention ending this again! He would never try to hit him; he would never shout at him! If only Loki would leave his parents alone, he would do all of these things and more! How could Tony have forgotten that it wasn't his life at risk? That was why he'd never said anything in the first place: because while Tony had long ago decided that dying might be preferable to surviving, he didn't want his parents to die (no matter how neglectful or harsh they were).

"I will return shortly, my Anthony," Loki announced, "and when I do, I expect you to have forgotten this foolish nonsense."

Loki vanished, and Tony was left alone, unable to move or scream to help his parents. His mom and dad were going to die... and it was completely his fault.

OOO

Later that night Loki returned and informed Tony, "Howard and Maria Stark have just been in an automobile accident. The roads are rather slippery this time of year, are they not? It is a shame your butler Jarvis did not drive more carefully."

A strangled sob caught in Tony's throat, burning it. The gentle hands petting his hair and cheeks only caused his breath to come out more ragged, his chest to compress further with the strength of the sobs he couldn't let out. Finally Loki seemed to remember that he'd frozen Tony, and the enchantment lifted only for Tony to curl up faced away from the monster who had just killed his parents and butler. Jarvis... Jarvis who'd acknowledged Tony, who'd actually kind of been there when Ms. Sarah had left. He'd not done more than any good butler should, but he'd spoken so kindly and so politely that Tony couldn't help feeling fond of him. Jarvis had been a pillar of stability, one Tony had never really appreciated or acknowledged, and now he was gone. Gone with Tony's mother and father. His father would never be proud of him now, and his mother would never tell him she loved him again. When was the last time she'd said so? It had to have been years ago. Tony couldn't even remember the last time he'd said such to his parents – he'd never even been grateful for the opportunities they'd given him. And now they were gone, all three of them gone, and Tony...

Tony was well and truly alone now.

"There, there, my darling, I am here," Loki soothed, turning Tony around to face him.

Tony cried all the harder at that, feeling utterly pathetic. Twenty-year-old men weren't supposed to cry, villains weren't supposed to cry (and that was what Tony was now, wasn't it? Good people didn't get their parents or butlers or crushes killed). He'd been the cause of four deaths now, and the one who'd done the actual murdering was trying to comfort him. His hands fisted in Loki's shirt, and he let go of everything but his grief. Loki held him for hours, until his sobs were nothing more than shuddering breaths. And when the tears stopped, Loki unclothed them both and took Tony gently, carefully, and he whispered promises that all would be well, that the grief would pass, and that the only one Tony needed was Loki.

OOO

When Tony was officially told his parents and Jarvis were dead, he closed his eyes and took a minute to hate himself. The officers thought it was grief, and Tony didn't correct them. Obadiah Stane, a business partner of his father's, contacted Tony to help arrange the funeral and deal with the effect Howard Stark's death would have on the company. Until Tony was twenty-one, the company would be in Obadiah's hands – and Tony was fine with that; he'd be too busy hating himself to do much of anything else.

The funeral was attended by thousands of people, and Tony bitterly wondered how many of them actually cared – and how many of them his parents had liked more than they'd liked him. After it was over, Tony trudged home and planned to drink himself into a stupor, but Loki was there and decided post-funeral sex was appropriate. Tony almost couldn't believe that the one who'd killed his parents fucked him on the very same day as their funeral (and was that worse than the fact that he'd fucked Tony on the night he'd killed them, or was it less bad or just as bad?), except Loki had been in Tony's life for over five years now, and Tony hadn't really come to expect anything more from the god. Loki didn't care about Tony's emotional well-being, he just cared about the state of his body.

Life continued on for another year, with Tony living in seclusion but for the times he was working on new technology for his company or when Loki showed up.

Abruptly, however, Loki stopped visiting.

OOO

Tony didn't know what to do with himself the first couple of months, worried that the god would return and be pissed if he didn't find Tony there waiting for him. Five months later Tony went to his first party. Two months after that Tony brought home his first girl. And then it was party after party, woman after woman, and drink after drink. Partying, sex, and booze made up Tony's life now, filling that anxious gap within him that said Loki would return – and that he would not be happy with what he found.

Still, Tony pushed it as far as it could go. He was young, rich, and handsome – who wouldn't want a piece of him? Along the way he gathered a few people: Obie became something of a father-figure to him; Happy turned out to be a great driver, body-guard, and boxing partner; Rhodey was a friend Tony could count on, and; Pepper Potts was a PA who knew how to handle everything from Tony to the media while looking pretty. Perhaps that didn't seem like very many people to some, but for Tony it was more than he'd ever had. It used to be just him and Ms. Sarah, and then it was just him and Loki. Jarvis was added in there at some point (so subtly Tony hadn't noticed until his presence was gone), and of course there'd always been his parents, distant though they were. Yet he'd lost every single one of them, and he'd never really had more than two people close to him in his life at a time. Now there were four, and all of them paid attention to Tony if he wanted them to – and even if he didn't want them to.

He wore sunglasses a lot. Most people thought it was either because he had a perpetual hangover or he was trying to hide blown pupils from drugs, and Tony let them think that. It was better than to have people know that he was hiding his eyes for fear they were too expressive. His eyes had been what attracted Loki in the first place, and because of that Tony was apprehensive that someone else would see whatever the god had seen. He didn't want to have another Loki in his life, thanks but no thanks.

When Tony hit thirty, the tabloids were filled with questions about his daily skincare regimen, calling him a youthful wonder. At first Tony wondered what they were talking about (thirty wasn't all that young, to be honest), and then he flippantly asked Pepper about it one day and she responded quite seriously with, "You look like you're in your early twenties, if that. I guess you have good genes, Mr. Stark."

A look in the mirror and a quick side-by-side comparison proved that he hadn't aged a day in ten years. In fact, he didn't appear to have aged a day since he finished graduate school (people only said he looked to be in his mid-twenties because there weren't many pictures of Tony in his late teens or early twenties, in the years before Loki left and before Tony had started partying). Pepper joked about good genes, and the tabloids talked about products he didn't use, but Tony suspected that the cause was something entirely different. Examinations of pictures of his father only proved the point, because Howard Stark had started getting noticeable wrinkles at twenty-eight or so. The only answer to the problem was Loki, but Tony wasn't thinking about Loki. Loki was just a figment of his imagination, a villain he'd made up to explain his weird anti-social/homebody behaviour whilst in his teens and the unfortunate accident his parents and Jarvis (the man, not the AI) had been in.

So Tony grew a beard. It was a nice goatee, clean-shaven and expertly formed – and it added years to his face. Even after Afghanistan, Obie, and Vanko, Tony looked young. After all the stress and the alcohol, Tony hadn't aged a day. So he kept the beard and hoped for the best. If he were lucky, he'd start aging and no one would want to experiment on him to find the cure for old age or to torture the location of the fountain of youth out of him – either that or Tony would have to fake 'getting work done'.

When Tony heard about what happened in New Mexico, he didn't colour himself surprised because, lo and behold, he had already known that Norse gods existed. He was extraordinarily pleased at the high probability of the Bifrost being broken, since that meant Loki could never come back. Which, in turn, meant that Tony was free. Thank you Doctor Foster (who apparently knocked sense into a barbarous god), and thank you Thor (whose file made it abundantly clear that he was the most likely person-god-thing to break the Bifrost in a hissy fit) for unwittingly sending salvation Tony's way. Tony doubted Jane Foster knew where her research fund came from, but there was no way he was about to explain that to anyone. (And if he kept an eye on her work to make sure she would never come close to creating a Bifrost on Earth, well, that was his prerogative.)

As abruptly as Loki left his life, the god re-entered it...

Endnote: Obviously part two would involve the events that unfold in the film "The Avengers". Either I'll post what I've got written (which honestly sucks and is overly-dramatic, in my opinion, and it lacks any sort of ending outside of Loki being carted off to an Asgardian cell), or I'll withhold it until I figure out how to finish it. If you guys want it regardless of its state, I'll post it - but don't expect too much from it, eh? Hopefully I'll be inspired at some point.