Timeframe:

AU. After The Avengers with Loki. Canon events are used.

Summary:

AU. Demons are soulless. But Loki makes a pact with a certain red-eyed demon as he falls from the bifrost. He's tired of having to play the monster and the villain. This time, he wants to be selfish.

Pairings:

Sebastian x Loki

Disclaimer:

I do not own any Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji anything (That belongs to Yana Toboso), or Marvel's Avengers. I just like playing with them and Sebastian in my own little world of storyville. I make no money by writing this fanfiction. All original characters are my own.

Rating:

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 due to the warnings presented below the Author's Note.

Author's Notes: I have Loki and Sebastian on the brain. *tears at hair* I don't know why. I can't find any good SebbyxLoki fics either. I think they'd be a lovely, dark pairing and it just seems...nice. Sebastian would be a lovely dom, I think and Loki, well, I'll take him anyway he comes, I suppose. Gah. Apologies for this, really! Anyhow, Loki makes a pact after he falls from the Bifrost, because he thinks he's going insane, just a little bit, thanks to a little voice in the back of his head and it somehow leads to...this. Enjoy. My brain is now mush. :P

WARNINGS: Mature themes. dark fic, possibly. Contains slash(m/m), moments/mentions of femslash(f/f), and Het (m/f), Please remember that LOKI can shapeshift, so also features regular Loki and Lady!Loki. Nothing explicit as per FF guidelines. Possible gore/torture in future chapters. Angst. Fluff. D/s themes, light bondage, light BDSM play, possible bloodplay and fireplay. Mentions of Abuse. Mpreg(It's Loki, remember?). Alcohol. Corporal Punishment. OC's. OOCness. Very AU. Crossovers with other Marvel Characters may occur. Other warnings will be added as I see fit.

No, Loki.

Oh, how it burned.

Staring up into that old, wizened face, searching for approval that was never there—that would never come—that did indeed burn. Angry, fiery flames that consumed the absolute entirety of his soul, it seemed and in that moment, there was nothing left.

Loki stared, one moment longer, one extra heartbeat, so that he might remember the expressions on their faces, the disappointment in their eyes. Just enough to turn the love in his heart, to hate.

And so he had no choice.

Loki let go.

"Loki!" Thor's scream followed him as he fell into the blissfully dark abyss.

"Thor!" Odin's roar came afterwards and Loki supposed that Thor must have lunged after him.

But there is no other sound as the dark void swallowed him whole.

Odin has caught Thor.

He has let Loki fall.

And somehow, that is the very last straw.

In everything that he has known and been, up to now, Loki has had it. He has tried so much, so many different things and it has never been enough and only now, does this truly bother him. He had once thought that it would always be a constant competition, to try and win Odin's approval, to take his one-eyed gaze away from the golden prince of Asgard, but now, such thoughts are empty, pointless dreams and they will never come to pass.

The void is cold and empty. It is everything that Loki should hate, but does not. He has always felt cold. The cold has always welcomed him. Now is no different. It is empty, but then again, Loki has always been empty. Empty and alone, this is surely no different at all.

The darkness seems to swirl, but it is hard to tell with the play of shadows and the lack of immediate light.

So Loki does not hesitate to let his mind wander. If his consciousness shall be taken from him, then he wants this to happen on his own terms. There was one final failsafe he had set into play.

One last contingency plan that he hadn't thought he'd need to use.

One choice. One chance.

It is strange to move when one is falling, but there is little time for thinking of such disconcerting things. Loki drew a knife from the curve in his leathered armor and it took a mere burst of his magic to steady himself enough to reach into his own void.

Here is where he dealt with the traitors of Asgard.

He did not sit idly upon the golden, gleaming throne.

He did not solely seek for revenge and hate.

He did his duty to his people and his king.

But no one will ever know.

They might recall a few missing faces, a few missing names, but no one will ever know. And it will be such a strange, odd mystery, that no one will ever think to investigate.

For Loki has been careful, so very careful.

And when he reached into his own, personal void of darkness, pain and despair, the scent of blood is nowhere near as nauseating as it could be. Instead, he can feel the bodies, some fresh, some decayed, the stench filling the void around him.

And there is blood.

Loki whispered the words to summon the dark creature. This was his last resort. He intended to unleash it on Asgard, or better yet, Thor.

But that opportunity is long gone.

It will never come again and all his preparation will be for naught, except—except there is one thing in the back of his mind that has never silenced. No matter what he has done and how he has done it, there is one malicious whisper in the darkest, shadowed corner of his mind, reminding this fallen, dark prince of all that he will never be and the wretched secrets that he craves.

The dark, beautiful things he desires that he will never have.

Never.

But the ritual is simple, the words have already been spoken.

And then he feels it.

The darkness shifting and warping around him.

The summoning is complete.

The demon wakes.

It comes.

Loki cannot contain the shiver of anticipation that rolled through him. The little voice in the back of his head, has quieted. It does not know what to make of this final plan of his. Loki smirked. He is glad. He wanted a clear head for this.

"…who dares summon me…?" The voice is old, ancient and so, very, very deliciously dark.

Loki sucked in a single, suffocating breath. "I do. I am Loki of Asgard." But even as he said the words, Loki corrected himself. He is no longer of Asgard. He is of nowhere. He is now no one and nothing, of nowhere. "Formerly." He added.

There was a mocking laugh. "Then, formerly Loki of Asgard, you know you have summoned me?"

"I do." The answer is quick, clear and straightforward.

"Then will you make a pact?"

There is the faintest hint of redness in the blackness and Loki can almost see the shadowed, twisted shape that is this hideous thing he has dared to summon.

"I will."

"…so sure, you are?..." The voice laughed again. "Very well then, I shall grant whatever you desire, in exchange for your soul."

"It is my soul I wish to bargain with." Loki heard himself say.

"There is no bargaining for your soul. If you agree, then there is no heaven, there is no hell. I shall devour you whole. Until such a time, I shall serve you for the duration and entirety of your request."

"I wish for a soulmate." Loki laughed. The sound was hollow, frightening and mad. "I wish for a soulmate to stand beside me until I have fulfilled my destiny. Be it the bringing about of Ragnarok or the destruction of the Nines one at a time or simply the descent into madness, I desire one such soulmate. One that would stand beside me through it all. One that I may destroy and one that would destroy me too. One I can hurt, one that can hurt me back. One I might eventually grow fond of, even as it kills me."

"…and that is your wish?..."

"That is my wish." Loki coughed. The action reminded him that he was, essentially, in freefall and that hurt, somehow. "It is a selfish, foolish, pathetic request—but that is all I wish." He half-smirked. "In turn, this wretched, blackened soul is yours."

"Black, you say? But yet it struggles onward, fleeting and fluttering, trying to reach something better, brighter…how generous…it may take time to find this soulmate of yours."

"I do not want someone." Loki is proud to note that his voice is steady. "I want you."

There was a whispered hiss. Then nothing. And then—"…a demon has no soul…"

"Do not lie to me!" Loki snarled. "I am the god of lies! I am no mere mortal!"

"Then you know that such a soul can never be yours."

"I know it is taboo." Loki returned, evenly. "I also know it is not impossible. This is my request and if you cannot grant it, then be gone. I have more important things to attend to."

"…what you desire will take time to bring about. I shall require a taste of your soul to plead your case."

"My soul is all that I have to offer. I cannot give away a simple taste without some sort of guarantee." Loki snapped back.

There was a concentrated hum and then the shadows twisted even more and suddenly, the fall stopped. The blackness faded to a black-veined redness that surrounded them both. The shadowed, feathered figure and his falling figure.

Loki found himself sprawled on the ground, with pointed-heel boots a mere inch away from his royal face. He did not flinch, recoil nor acknowledge them. He merely lay there.

"I keep my word." The voice is soft, whispery and so very, very dangerous. "and I will destroy you and hurt you. You know this…but if that is what you wish, then as proof, I will mark you now…where would you like it?"

"I care not."

"…very well then…" The gloved, slender fingered hand, stretched toward the fallen prince.

Loki let himself be pushed over. He gasped when the hand ripped down the front of his tunic, parting his armor with a thread of dark magic. The glove melted away from the hand, that rested right above the prince's heart.

Smooth, cold and powerful, the hand pressed down.

Loki screamed.

The demon laughed. "What a delicious soul you have, my little Raven." It purred. "Keep out of trouble, until I return. Behave. If you can."

And the ground fell out from beneath them.

This time, Loki fell to the sound of the eerie laughter, ringing through every fiber of his being, punctuated by the burning, aching pulse that throbbed over his chest. He vaguely realized that his clothes and armor had been fixed and replaced.

But the darkness swallowed him again and this time, Loki let it.

With the final smash from the Hulk, Loki choked on the gasp that lurched from his lips. He couldn't draw a single, necessary breath. Black spots swam before his vision and he knew he could not hold on much longer.

The brand on his chest ached, throbbing in that way that reminded him of all that he had given up and yet, how nothing remained.

A sudden jolt of fire made him lurch upwards, gasping as the painful fire coursed through his body, granting him a mild reprieve by the way of a single, full breath. A whisper of darkness settled beside him and Loki suddenly knew.

He froze.

Even as he felt the presence of those pesky Avengers approach.

And then, he saw them.

Shiny black boots, polished to perfection. Pressed black slacks, impeccably tailored and exquisitely crafted. A matching vest, a matching waistcoat, a crisp white shirt, with spotless white gloves. Ebony tresses and blood-red eyes to accent the pale, grey-white skin.

Demon.

And Loki suddenly knew.

And he knew that Thor would know as well. He saw the moment when Thor knew what the creature was, those baby-blue eyes grew wide and he threw a strangled warning to his comrades.

But the warning came too late.

The lovely man-creature moved.

And Loki stared.

Beauty, death and grace, all in the same breath. In a quick blur, the Avengers are driven back and Loki is plucked up from the hole in the ground. He can barely guide his trembling fingers to lock around the slender neck, even as the brand pulses again, angry—red-white-hot.

And then, they vanished.

Loki felt the rush of wind and closed his eyes to the expected sensations and images. He waited until he felt some semblance of a closed room settle around them and then, he was gently set on something soft.

Emerald eyes opened in confusion, wonder and despair.

The red eyes of the creature met his gaze steadily and then, with deliberate movement, the white gloved hands reached forward and began to undo the fastenings that kept Loki's armor together. "Trying to take over earth, making a pact with a miserable scrap of existence on pain of death and baiting your pesky brother's secret little posse." There was a little, soft sigh. "That, my little Raven, is not behaving."

Loki stared.

He couldn't think. He couldn't process. He couldn't even try to make sense of it.

He didn't want to.

But then, cool, smooth lips pressed against his.

And the barest hint of affection was all that ugly little voice inside of his head needed. Loki closed his eyes in shame as he felt the little dark thing squirming and writhing, working itself out of the little corner where he'd shoved it.

It took a scant second before Loki kissed back.

Those cool, smooth lips kept him occupied as those gloved hands undressed him with a deft, expert manner.

Loki hissed softly in pain, against the next kiss when cool air hit his exposed chest, the bruises from the Hulk's treatment, showing plainly against his pale skin.

It hurts.

But Loki ground his teeth together, to keep the sounds inside. He forced his breath in quick, short patterns and focused his magic. He would have to heal and—ow!

A choked gasp escaped this time and Loki stared up at the shirtless, lithe figure crouched over him. Perfect, pale skin, chiseled muscle and lethal potential all wrought into one being. "Does it hurt?" The creature whispered. "Let me hear you…"

Yes! It hurts…by the Norns, of course it hurts!

But Loki stubbornly kept his lips pressed together. He tried not to flinch when those cold hands danced along his sides.

And then, suddenly, his clothes and armor have vanished and there is nothing between them, save the silken fabric of this creature's tailored trousers.

"Consider this your punishment." The red-eyed demon purred. "I warned you to behave…and it will take some effort to fix the mess you've made. I did not wish to spend tomorrow righting the riots you have caused."

"god of mischief." Loki managed to gasp out, as one hand pressed a particularly painful—and sensitive spot—before his magic managed to heal that hurt. "Expect—it." He forced the words out, channeling his magic to continue with its healing. It swam beneath his skin, barely there, worn and exhausted. He needed to rest. It needed to rest.

But now, his weary body was slowly coming to life, burning and twitching with need as his new…soulmate, took care of him.

"Hmm. Yes. As if Chaos simply follows you?"

Emerald eyes met red.

Fire and ice burned.

Loki felt his magic flare.

He felt the demon's one do the same.

So this would seal their deal.

He did not look away, as the magic twined and coiled between them. He did not shiver as the chains wrapped around his soul and a sliver of light flickered into existence in his own, dark world. He did not regret for a moment, when that lovely man-creature finally descended upon him with deliberate, erotic thoroughness.

…yes. Finally…

The little voice in his head cheered.

Loki ignored it and simply lost himself to the pleasure.

A/N: And there we go. Yes. That was Sebastian.