Archive of Our Own ^beta

Prison.

Odin had dared to send him to prison.
Leave him to rot with nothing but a few books, his magic contained by the collar still surrounding his throat, now covered by his loose shirt.
Loki had been surprisingly calm in the beginning, and then he had started to throw more and more of his deeply restricted magical abilities against the golden mesh of magic locking him in place.
The rest of his life in prison.
Never to see any but these…delinquents again.

He was furious.

The coming weeks and months calmed him, and he created holograms for his own amusement, to speak, to rant, to torture, to fuck.
Once he had created Odin, his mind full of anger and hate, and he had wanted to force the old man to his knees, beat his face in…
But Odin disappeared at his touch, his magic not strong enough to hold on to the illusion as if he had been restricted, and with a wave of his hand he had given up.

Damn them all.
Damn them all to Hel.

x

Weeks later…something happened.

The continuous war with the other realms led large amounts of rebels and rejects into the prison, filling up around him, behind him, the cells never empty, not the way they used to be.

The new prisoners, they stared at him. They catcalled.

He ignored them.

They were filth and not worth his time.

The amount of Dark Elves grew.
They watched him with their black eyes, silent.

Loki stared back, easing the slight prickle of anxiety back down to where it had come from.

There was no reason to fear them.

Obviously.

After all, he was safe.

In prison.

x

The day it happened started innocently enough.

With the lights flickering.

On.

Off.

On again.

And then all of hell broke loose.

Loki heard the low, grumbling sounds of something detonating, heard screams, the shattering of bodies against stone, saw the guards running towards the cells deeper in the bowels of the dungeons.
He could, ‘feel’ the dark magic that was approaching from the back, as the flames started to rise around him. His green eyes slit narrowly, and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor, watching prisoners escaping, fleeing, fighting against the growing number of Asgardian guards.

Waiting.

Something was going to happen.

He could feel it.

Prisoners ran towards the exit, and Loki straightened when the dark form, horned, approached his cell. Loki glared at the enormous, muscled lean body, returning the gaze that was fixed on him from black eyes.

“You are son of Odin.”

Loki walked towards the creature, casually.
Fighting down his unease.
“I am Loki of Jotunheim.” His voice was hard as steel, yet soft and hard to hear under the battle cries.

The creature snarled and whipped his head to the side.

“Thanos spoke of you.
You are the traitor.”

Loki's mouth set in a hard line.
Nothing to reply to that.

“Malekith wishes to speak to you.”

Loki leaned his head to the side.
Malekith. Long time ago this name would have filled him with something like joy.
He had know the Lord of the Dark Elves in ways more than one during his many trips to Svartálfaheimr.

But it had been a long time ago.

He had been a mere godling.

Loki swallowed the inkling of danger and nodded, a grin spreading his thin lips.

“Sure, as long as you get me out of here, I am happy to speak to your…Master.”
The creature nodded and with the mighty swipe of his fist the force field around his cell shattered.
“Come then.”

Loki grinned.

He was getting out.

x

The spaceship was black, and Loki did not bat an eye when a small opening lowered before them, and then a hard shove in the small of his back forced him to tumble as he made his way inside.
Around them were hundreds, if not thousands of similar vessels gliding through the sky, attacking Asgard.

For a moment Loki wished to be able to warn his mother, for her to be safe, then the ship around him bolted up into the sky and carried them away.
Asgard was gone.

x

Loki flew along two masked dark elves that were stoically steering the ship towards the large mother vessel deep in space.

Malekith.
Well.
He decided not to worry about how their reunion would go.
After all, there were only two things that could happen.

Either the Dark Elf embraced his old friend and asked him to join his side.
Or he did....not.

And Loki just and simply hoped it was not the second one.

X

Malekith was watching over the dark elves that were busy raising the rest of his army from their long sleep. A single ship approached from the horizon, and Malekith knew that his servant had found at least one of the beings he had been looking for.
He very much hoped it was a the Earth Woman, but the Allfather, Thor or even that traitorous other son of Odin would be good at this point.
He watched as the smaller capsule ship landed and made his way down to the lower decks.

He watched as the door slid open silently, how the prisoner emerged with his guards.
It was the traitor.
For a moment something like anger lit up in the Dark Elf then he continued his descent, his blue-black eyes fixed on the fallen son who glared up at him mockingly.

x

The Lord of the Dark Elves had failed to secure what he had hoped to find in Asgard.
The essence.
It had not been a good day.
He had used all his power to attack Asgard, to strike down the most dangerous of all realms, to be able to dunk the rest of the universe into darkness.

Darkness.

But he had failed.
Again.

So seeing Loki, the fallen, the traitor, all Malekith could see was an outlet.

x

Loki turned, his arms chained, still wearing that damnable collar from the dungeons.
And he could see the anger flickering in the Dark Elfs eyes stronger than usual.
Normally he would have tried to tease it out, play with it.
But not today.

Not in his position.

“Loki…..” Malekith’s voice was even, dark. He approached the God of Mischief in a steady pace, black pupils fastened on the bound god.

Dangerous.

Loki stood stock-still, raising his chin slightly, otherwise his features a pale mask.
“Malekith.”
A low nod.

“So you have returned. Thanos has shunned you and will pay a sum on your head. “
There was a pause in which the Lord of the Dark Elves seemed to appraise him.
Just your head.
You lost, Odinson.”

Loki stiffened.
He was not sure yet what kind of game Malekith was playing, so he decided to keep quiet. Just for now.

“How the mighty have fallen, wouldn't you say, Odinson? ”

Malekith’s stepped up to the bound god, then his hand shot up Loki’s collar, pressing his fingers into his trachea, cutting off his air.
“KNEEL ”
A cold pain appeared instantly, outlining every nerve in his body, and Loki sank onto the black, strangely warm floor with a suppressed scream.

Malekith just stood, body straight, his hands fisted at his sides.
Loki gasped for air, then dared a quick glance at the Elfs white mask of a face.
There was nothing safe anger and death in those still features.

Loki remembered in a flash how they used to be equals.
The God of Mischief had been a strong ally of the Lord of the Dark Elves for a very, very long time.
Him and Malekith, they used to have something, they used to be two strong creatures with an insatiable want for power.
They used to be friends.

They had conquered.
They had fucked.

They used to be Equals.
But not anymore.

And Loki realized in an instant that Malekith had not yet decided yet whether to kill him here today.

x

The Elf barked a command to the others, and two of his soldiers grabbed Loki by his arms and dragged the weakened god to the raised counsel overlooking the docking bay.
With a grunt Loki was forced over the table, one of the two Dark Elves fiddling with his restraints, opening them so his arms could be stretched in front of him, one soldier on each of his arms.
And Loki realized what Malekith was about to do.

“Usually I require a dinner and a conversation before I get to this point.” Loki grit under his teeth, as the Dark Elf gripped at his prisoners stiff linen trousers that split under his force of magic, crumbling to the ground.
“Malekith.”, the God of Mischief hissed, his face pressed down onto the warm table as the soldiers pulled his chains tighter, forcing him more flush on the table, then stilled.

There was no response, Loki hearing the Lord of the Dark Elves unbuckle himself.

God damn that Elf.

“Silence.” The word was sharp and loud, and then the tall Elf once more pressed on his collar, the pain that soared through his nerves amplified a thousand folds, and Loki could not even scream as the pain shocked through him.
He had not even known that the collar could do that.
Malekith held on to the device for a full 5 seconds, a life-time, an eternity, and by the time he let go Loki snapped his teeth closed with an audible click.
His green eyes were pinched closed, tears snaking their way along his cheeks, his breath fast and shallow.

He tried his best not to puke.
He was moderately sure that the Elf would kill him for it.

Malektih stepped back and pulled his cock from his trousers.
With a quick snap of his wrist he dragged one of the sharpened blades attached to his arm-shields over Loki’s pale skin of his back. He sliced a slow, criss-cross pattern all over the pale skin, Loki fighting to keep his breath even and his moans of pain under control.
He knew the Dark Elf well enough that when he was in this mood, the knife could slip easily.
And he was not immortal.

Malekith watched dispassionatly for a moment as the blood raised to the surface, watching his prisoner to see if he would struggle or scream, then he raised his hand to drag his finger through the deep, sluggishly bleeding wounds.

Loki was trembling slightly, pale and sweaty as he bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut at the pain.
But he had to be silent.
He wanted to survive this.

When he and Malekith were younger, lifetimes, eons ago they had made their game from many a maiden and young soldiers, spreading fear and panic through rape and torture.

Loki knew what would be coming.
He knew if he screamed that it would be worse.
He grit his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut as he dug his nails into his palms to ground himself.

Malekith had checked the blood on his finger, licking it absent-mindedly before kicking Loki’s legs apart. His other hand was stroking his half-hard cock in a steady rhythm.
His bloody hand spread Loki’s ass, and with a swift, smooth motion he pressed his middle finger deep into Loki’s body, watching the small pucker suck in his digit greedily.
Loki made no sound, but at the clenching of his ass at the pain of the intrusion was obvious.

Malekith pressed in his finger – once, twice, then pulled it out abruptly.

The Lord of the Dark Elves did not feel merciful today.

He pulled his hand once more over the still lazily bleeding wounds on Lokis back, and brought the blood to his cock, slathering it in the warm, viscous liquid.

Loki took a deep breath, his eyes still closed.
He knew he had to relax for this.
He knew it.
But it had been a while for him.

Malekith laid the head of his cock slightly above the entrance to Loki’s body and then the Elf pushed forward, slowly, unforgiving, pushing first through the first and then through the second sphincter.
Loki bit his lip until he bleed, pushing out against the strain, such a counter-intuitive action to the invading pain at being ripped apart from the inside out.
He had not been stretched anything close to sufficiently, and also there had not been a lot of…lovers lately.
Rotting in prison did a number on his love life.

Loki could feel that the Dark Elf was not fully hard, but the tight grip of his ass thickened the cock more and opened him up wider, adding more girth to the feeling of too full.
Malekith’s left hand flew down onto Loki’s shoulder, whose arms were still stretched in front of him by the unblinking elves, their mask-like features looming over him.
Witnessing.
He trailed his other hand down to Loki’s hip, and then Malekith pulled out of the tight body beneath him and fucked back in.
Hard.

Loki’s fists closed as he pressed his fingernails deep into his flesh, his toes curling at the pain and humiliation, his struggle of remaining quiet as Malekith wreaked havoc on his resisting body.
The Dark Elf fucked deep and hard, his own buttocks straining after every thrust as he tried to push himself deeper, claim harder.
Slap – Slap - Slap.
Lokis weakened body could not resist to strain from the pain, to arch away from the burning, ripping sensation that was his ass, try to somehow twist and turn to escape.

Malekith pressed down between his shoulder-blades, digging deep into his flesh as he pounded into those pale white cheeks that swallowed him so well, so tight around his aching cock. There was so much energy, so much blood and defeat surging through his veins that the agony of this unworthy creature beneath him pleased him.

Loki had changed since they last met, his hair longer and messier and his body a pale white that spoke of years off the battlefields, but every muscle showing as he strained to get away, so beautifully.

Malekith had always loved the fragile beauty of the cuckoo-Odinson, and now he was frailer than ever, weak, fully at his mercy. He slammed in harder, wrecking the cheeks apart with his fingers, glancing at the small, greedy hole between Loki’s legs in which his large, deep red cock glid in and out with ease.

Every now and then, if he angled himself too far and slid along one of Loki’s innards walls, his whole ass would clench around him, as if it would stop him from taking what he wanted, what was his. Instead Malekith leaned in and stared at the God of Mischief beneath him as he continued his hard, unrelenting fuck that was meant to be more of a punishment than anything else.

“You remain silent?”” Malekith’s voice was cold as steel, his warm breath ghosting over Loki’s sweat-covered face.
And he ground his hips, pulling Loki up by the hair now, leaning in to press him all the way to the edge and kept fucking, grinding, punishing.….

And Loki tried to focus on the wall opposite of him, black and shiny to distract himself from his body, to remain silent as he knew he had to.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Malekith came with a dark bark, his hot seed spilling deep into the bleeding insides of the God of Mischief beneath him, who still managed to suppress any kind of sound at the disgusting feeling of having been…claimed.

The Lord of the Elves waited for a couple of second before pulling put, stepping back, tugging himself back into his trousers.

Loki pressed his fever-hot forehead into the surface beneath him, thankful that it was over, body tense as he waited for the blade to slide beneath his ribs, to kill him the way he knew the Dark Elf used to dispose of his unwanted spoils.
To take his head to Thanos, just like he had said.

“Take him to the dungeons.”

Loki let out a breath he had not realized he was holding, gasping at the pull of his chains around his hands, forcing his body stable as he stood, shakily.

There was a trail of cum smudged with blood sneaking down his thigh, the wounds on his back pulsating in the cold air.

And the God of Mischief tried not to laugh as he followed his new captives towards the cells, knowing that he had survived similar and even worse situations before.

He was like a cockroach.

He would survive this as well.

After all, he was the silvertongue.

And this was just another war.