A/N: A gift of hot and steamy FrostIron for ReindeerGamesBitch on Tumblr (if you like Tony/Loki, go follow her; that chick fuels my addiction). I apologize for the poor quality of my fan fiction, but in my defense it's been two years since I've written any. Also, this is an attempt to create an Avengers fic that does not use the word "Asgardian" or "Midgardian" to describe anything (furniture, for example), because that is lazy writing and that is wrong. *scolding finger waggle*

All right, I'll jump off my soapbox and let you get to the man on man smexiness.

Tony could feel another presence in his house. He wanted to chalk it up to his paranoia, to some basic human need for attention even when he lived alone, but he'd felt this feeling almost every night. Typing on his computer and looking over design improvements for his suit, he opened up another computer screen to check the security cameras Pepper has insisted installing in the Malibu house while they weren't staying.

"JARVIS, you up?"

"Of course, sir."

Tony didn't know if it was the English accent that made the AI sound snarky or if he was becoming more accustomed to human behavioral patterns. He raised an eyebrow and was silent for a moment, waiting for more sass. JARVIS only awaited his orders.

"Did you let someone into the house again?" he asked, but the computer didn't need to answer him. He could see the dark-haired man that slinked quietly into his living room, looking around with vague interest. His emerald eyes scanned the dark couch, a hand trailing over the closed lid of the piano Obadiah used to play on his visits. He looked to the empty hearth and snapped his fingers. Immediately a fire blazed inside of it, fueled by the God's magic and nothing else. It burned with a slight greenish tint.

"You gave him a key, sir." JARVIS informed Tony as he watched all this. "He let himself in."

"Right." Tony's eyes met Loki's on the screen. He smiled in the way that he knew got Tony hot and bothered: his eyes would narrow and his lips would press together as the corners of his mouth rose. He narrowed his eyebrows, his nose wrinkling between his eyes adorably. Tony realized he'd just used the word "adorable" to describe a grown man and quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Let him wait a little bit. I'm busy."

"Should I offer him a drink?"

"One day, JARVIS, I'm going to take away your ability to talk back to me. But yes, do that." Tony continued to work on the schematics, dragging pieces to a virtual copy onto a nearby projection board before deciding if he should add or trash the ideas. He kept an eye on Loki, who had helped himself to a taste of Tony's best scotch. Loki wasn't a big fan of the flavor, but he said he liked the way the alcohol burned his throat as it and the airy feelings of a slight buzz behind his eyes. He was pacing the room, skirting the glass coffee table and leaving boot prints in the white rug beneath it. He swirled the ice around in his glass and watched it spin before the alcohol burst into flames spontaneously. Tony yelped in surprise and jumped back, his arm sweeping across the table beside him. His toolbox clattered to the floor in a catastrophic symphony of metallic clangs and pings. On the screen Loki's head snapped up to the general direction of the stairway leading to his workshop. Tony caught a glimpse of the curious God heading towards the stairs as he scrambled upon the floor, scooping wrenches and screws and electrical wiring back into the box. When he managed to look back up, Loki was watching him through the glass door, a thin dark eyebrow raised in questioning. His drink was still on fire.

"Sir—"

"I know, JARVIS, I know." he growled under his breath as he set the box back onto the table. "Just unlock the damned door."

The lock clicked as the door unlatched, edging itself inward. Loki stared at it like it was threatening to bite him, and Tony had to cross the room and pull it open for him. "I've told you to let me know when you're coming."

"But I love how you react when I don't." he replied in his cool accent, walking past him and into his workshop; their chests almost touched as he breezed by. No matter how many times the God invaded Tony's fortress of solitude, the overwhelming presence of technology always seemed to surprise him. He'd seen the computer screens at least a hundred times, yet his eyes widened and he stared at their displays, not understanding what he was looking at but fascinated nonetheless.

"Pepper—or worse, the team—could be here. What would you do then?" he challenged, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't had a shower all evening, and his hair was a bit greasy, slicking back with both natural and mechanical oils.

"I'm no fool." Loki turned to look at him over his shoulder. "I make sure that you are alone when I come." He extinguished his drink with a flick of his wrist, almost sloshing the golden nectar over his hand, and looked for a place to set it down, preferably nowhere near the expensive machines. Tony took the glass from him—pausing just slightly as their fingers touched—and tossed his head back, downing the contents of the drink. The ice had melted enough for him to swallow with ease, leaving the odd sensation of burning alcohol and freezing ice chasing each other to his innards. The scotch settled in his stomach like a fire, warming him from the inside out. Somewhere inside his skull began to tingle.

"I never said you were." he retorted, matching Loki's stare. He crossed his arms and planted his feet apart in a power stance, an attempt to make up for the nearly six inches of intimidating height the God had over him.

Tony had no word to properly describe their relationship. "Lovers" was too familiar, and "sex friends" implied that they got along somewhere other than the bedroom, shower stall, kitchen table, or wherever else Loki allowed himself to be taken when overpowered by his own lust. He couldn't even remember how long this little game had been going on. One day Loki had shown up, scepter in hand and ready to kill him, and Tony had offered the God his freshly poured bourbon. Confused, he'd accepted, and they'd begun a challenging dance, completed with death threats and Tony's own sarcastic jargon. He'd had been ready to fight for the death when Loki'd propositioned their tumultuous affair. Tony hadn't agreed at first, but he'd been very "persuasive" with his argument. That, and his own pent up desires from Pepper's hesitance to sleep with him several times a week. Something about needing energy for running his company and sitting through meetings.

"Bed." he ordered. "Now." Without waiting for a response he grabbed a fistful of Loki's shirt and dragged him out of the workshop and up the stairs. Loki laughed, a guttural sound reverberating from somewhere low in his stomach, and easily followed. Tony knew that he could be overpowered anytime, but it seemed a part of Loki enjoyed being controlled by someone much lower than him on the power scale, probably part of what got him off.

Tony's room was clean, the bed sheets tucked tight enough to make a militiaman proud. The lights were off and he didn't bother with turning them on; he'd be able to see clearly enough soon, according to the dim cerulean gleam from underneath his T-shirt. He threw the taller man onto the mattress, capturing his laugh in his mouth. Loki's hand grabbed at his hair, slippery from the oils, and fought to maintain a tight grip. Tony shoved his tongue between Loki's lips, hitting all the right spots that made him ache; he could feel the vibrations of his moans. They ground against each other, both heightening their pleasure and only increasing their incessant want for each other. Loki's hands moved from his hair to his waist, rucking up his shirt to touch skin, digging in his nails until Tony was sure he'd drawn blood.

Easily Tony's shirt came off, his arc reactor glowing brightly. It highlighted Loki's sharp features, heavily shadowing his cheekbones. His bright, lust riddled eyes turned an attractive teal color as he looked up at him. Loki reached up and began to attack Tony's neck and shoulders with his mouth, licking and biting and leaving small red circles that would eventually darken. The God held onto him tightly as his hands fiddled with the task of removing his clothing. They'd done this enough for him to have memorized its geography, and soon it was reduced to the telltale clinking of chainmail slinking to the hardwood floors, followed by the hollow clunks of belt buckles and pieces of armor. Metal and leather gave way to hot, fevered flesh, and Tony couldn't seem to touch enough of him at once. Loki was dragging his nails lightly across the sensitive skin of his neck and back, raising gooseflesh. Tony shuddered involuntary and impatiently squirmed out of his jeans.

Tony ran his fingers along the taller man's chest, feeling where the scars had formed along his flesh. Thor had only vaguely mentioned Loki's punishment for weeks until he finally gave in to Clint's curiosity. The serpent's venom had done its work, probably better than Odin had ever expected, since his son's godly healing abilities hadn't worked enough to completely repair the tissue. Tony ran his lips across a river of swollen and pinkish skin. Loki gasped, more in surprise, he guessed, and suddenly he was rolling and Loki was straddling him, looking somewhat perturbed; his hands gripped Tony's shoulders, holding him down on the bed. Tony's arc reactor lit the entire room up, acting as a spotlight for some erotic show.

"Sir."

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Of course JARVIS would have something to say at this moment, when they were just getting to the good part.

"What?" he groaned, feeling more than hearing Loki chuckle above him. He reached out blindly and grabbed the man's erection in a firm grip, hearing the surprised gasp. He opened his eyes, meeting a challenging smirk. The game was on. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to the angle of Tony's jaw, just below his ear. He felt a wet dash of tongue as Loki moved his hips against his. His back arched and he grabbed the other man's biceps to keep him in place.

"Director Fury is calling. Shall I send him to voicemail?" he asked.

"Reject the call." Tony managed to grunt out as Loki trailed lips, teeth, and tongue down to his shoulder, leaving swollen marks to match the ones dotted across his own livid skin.

"Sir, he's called back the last five times I've done so."

Tony's eyes rolled upward, whether because of the frustration at Fury's bad timing or Loki's playful bites to his left nipple, he wasn't sure. He bit back a groan, one hand moving up to cup the back of the God's neck.

"I'm not in any—gah, teeth, watch the teeth!—any position to take phone calls." At a sudden stab of pain Tony grabbed a fistful of dark curls and yanked Loki's head back, giving him view of red little marks on his chest. Teeth marks, right next to the blue glow of his reactor. Several were dotted with miniscule leaks of blood. "Make him leave a message."

"Sir, he refuses to."

"Can you not shut that thing up?" Loki asked impatiently, stroking his knuckles down Tony's stomach. He stopped just short of the hair at the juncture of the man's thighs and moved back up. "It is a great annoyance, and I won't hesitate to destroy it if we can't continue."

Tony bit back a multitude of retorts. "I'm not taking any calls until tomorrow. Now mute." he ordered, and got no reply from the AI. "Better?" Loki replied with another hot kiss, leading with his tongue. Tony grabbed his narrow hips and positioned him over his hardened groin, aching with each beat of his heart as his blood pumped. And finally, after their foreplay and the unwelcomed interruptions, Tony plunged into his soft wetness. Loki let out a surprised, guttural cry, grabbing onto Tony as he rocked his hips. Each roll ripped a gasping moan from his throat. Tony leaned up to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around the God currently squeezing as hard as he could on his dick. Loki released one of his hands to grip his own erection, pumping his hand in time with Tony's own momentum.

Tony chose that moment to leave on Loki's neck what was burning on his chest, sinking his teeth in to the sensitive skin on that pale throat and tasting coppery blood. That seemed to send Loki over the edge, and he screamed with his ejaculation. Tony came just a second later, collapsing backwards with the God on top of him, both heaving for breath. Tony's nose filled with the tangy scent of sweat and sex. If it had been a woman riding him like that he'd wait until she fell asleep before ditching her, taking a shower, and attending to whatever Fury thought was so important that it dictated a call so early in the morning. Instead, however, once he and Loki had caught their breath they continued until the sun began to peak over the horizon and they finally succumbed to their exhaustion and slept.

Hours later Tony awoke to an empty, cold bed. He still wore sweat and semen and the smell of sex on his skin.

"JARVIS?" he asked groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Outside the ocean was painted a deep red-violet from the sunset. From his bedroom he could see dark splotches moving along the beach, couples that were finding their romance easier to handle than he was.

"Good evening, sir." he responded immediately. Over the outside world images appeared on his window of people whose calls he'd missed and a calendar reminding him of upcoming events and appointments. "You have thirteen missed calls and two death threats from Director Fury. Also, Miss Potts wishes to consult with you about designs for further reconstruction on the Stark Tower in New York City, and you asked for a personal reminder that tomorrow night is the charity banquet for the hospital. Miss Potts has been sent the ticket to pick up your best suit from the cleaners."

"Play my messages." he ordered, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. His brown hair was still damp from last night, curling around his ears. The teeth marks on his chest were swollen, the exposed pink flesh burning at his touch. As Fury's roaring echoed through his bedroom, a flash of color amongst his white bed sheets rumpled on the floor caught Tony's eye. He bent down and picked up what looked like a gilded leather cuff. A piece of paper was tucked neatly between the golden metallic armor and its base. Grinning to himself Tony grabbed the note and flipped it open. A date and time and nothing more were written in a large, slanted calligraphy.

When the recorded Fury was finished promising a slow, painful disembowelment the next time he refused his calls, Tony spoke up, "Cancel my appearance for the even tomorrow, and tell Pepper I won't need my tux." He grabbed his clothes from the floor.

"Should I give her a reason why you won't be attending?"

"Tell her a friend is coming by to pick up something, and he simply can't wait."