I promised that we'd get to the goody good Frosthawk business this week, so here you go. I'm super excited about writing this next section of the fic. Enjoy xo

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Steve was surprisingly calm while Clint and Loki explained what happened. When he asked 'what now?' though, Loki looked to him and Clint was at a loss. Clint deflected his eyes to the wall behind Loki's head and said, "I don't know."

The blond only nodded and back up towards the door. "How about I give you guys some privacy?" He wagged a finger towards the ceiling of the cell. "Not too much privacy obviously," he countered, referencing the surveillance cameras, "but you know." He awkwardly shrugged and showed himself out, leaving Clint and Loki alone. 

Suddenly, Clint felt way too vulnerable. He'd gone rampaging through the complex, yelling at his friends, and then he'd had the gall to huddle down in Loki's lap like a child. The shame of it burned in his cheeks.

"Barton," Loki garnered his attention with the soft word. "Please share your thoughts with me."

Clint shook his head. "I can't."

Loki pressed his face to Clint's cheek and breathed him in. "You may say whatever is on your mind to me. I will hold none of it against you. You have my word."

His word. Loki's word meant nothing, less than nothing after he'd abandoned him years ago. "I can't trust you," he admitted, and even that much felt like too much. "I want to," he corrected, "but how can I after what you did?" He should get up. He shouldn't be cradled in Loki's arms, but he couldn't move. The god was cool against his heated skin and he kept pressing his lips to Clint's face and it felt so good.

"I am not him," Loki reminded, "but even if I were, I do not believe your Loki would hurt you without very good reason."

"I don't care what the reason was," Clint protested, voice sound more petulant than forceful. "He left me after everything he said, everything he did to me."

"I know," Loki cooed and stroked his hair. "He gave you the smallest taste and now you're hungry for him."

Clint flinched and pushed off Loki's chest. "No," he argued. "That's not what I said."

Loki didn't rise to the bait, only smiled gently at him and shook his head. "You didn't have to." He pulled Clint back to him and brought his mouth to Clint's ear, keeping his voice tilted low enough that the cameras wouldn't pick it up. "I know what you need, archer. I, and I alone, can give it to you. Let me."

A whine pushed from Clint's throat completely without his permission and he burned hot when he heard it. "I can't," he said again.

"Why not?" Loki wondered.

Clint buried his face, the shame of needing to hide less embarrassing than having to say this to Loki's face. "Everyone will know what I am."

Loki hummed in understanding but lifted Clint chin up with two steady fingers. "I will protect you. You will become your greatest self once you bow to me. Don't let other's expectations limit you. We both know what you are meant to be."

He did. He did know. He'd known it from the moment he met Loki and it was confirmed just the night before when he saw the other Clint bend so beautifully to Loki's will. He was always meant to bend to Loki's will, and now he had proof. His heart had taken little convincing to bloom bright blue under Loki's command all those years ago. Even when he'd removed the thrall, Clint had barely fought back during those nights together before he was kneeling at Loki's feet. And now, here in Loki's lap, he was coming apart piece by piece for Loki.

"Yes, sir," he whispered and closed his eyes in peace. Loki inhaled deeply like he could smell Clint's submission in the air and gripped the back of his neck firmly. 

"Thank you," he breathed, pulling Clint tight against him. "You've chosen well, my archer."

Clint didn't lift his head, too engrossed by the weight of Loki's hand, but asked, "What do I do now?" He was so lost; he needed Loki to guide him.

"I will train you to behave how I choose. You can conform to my will and I will reward you justly," Loki informed him like it was obvious.

"What does that mean?" Clint questioned. Loki only purred mischievously against his ear before licking across the round shell, making the archer shuddered, but he couldn't tell if it was lust or fear.

Apparently, training began immediately. Loki picked Clint up off the floor and waved the door to the cell open, proving he'd chosen not to fight back the entire time. It made something prideful burst in Clint's chest. He couldn't consider it long though because Loki's hand was squeezing his neck and leading him to the elevator. "Take us to my room," he commanded into the air. F.R.I.D.A.Y. shot the elevator upwards without a word, unusual for the sarcastic A.I., while Loki spent the ride up healing his wounds.

Loki led Clint into his small- or small for the multi-million dollar tower- accommodations and straight to his room. Clint thought for a terrifying yet glorious moment that Loki was going to fuck him, but then he sat Clint down and went into his bathroom. The archer wasn't sure what to do with himself while he waited, so he tucked his hands under his thighs and looked around Loki's room.

It was pretty much exactly like Clint expected: sleek, mostly black, but there were little things that Clint hadn't expected. There was an intricate green and gold banner hanging across the back of Loki's dresser, a small metal statue in the vague shape of three old women sitting on his nightstand. He wasn't sure where Loki got the trinkets considering he was pretty sure the god hadn't been outside the complex since he arrived.

Loki returned from the bathroom with a bottle of lotion and a damp towel. Clint didn't really like where this was going. When he thought Loki was going to lay him down and fuck him, at least that was basic and could be blamed on their bodies. This seemed intimate, if not romantic. It surely felt that way when Jenny had used the same supplies on him just the night before.

"What's that for?" Clint asked, though he already had a hunch.

Loki set the supplies down on his nightstand, right next to the three old ladies, and smiled over his shoulder at Clint. "Lay on your stomach," he ordered, gently yet firmly enough that Clint didn't really have a say. "I take care of what's mine," the god added and sat on the edge of the bed next to Clint's prone form. Seconds later, he smoothed a slick hand up Clint's back, making him hiss at the residual pain of the nail marks and coolness of the lotion. He massaged it in, behaving like this was commonplace for him. It probably was.

"When they look at you, everyone will know that you belong to me." Loki tugged at Clint's waistband, snapping it against the small of his back and making Clint huff in anticipation. "These markings, however," he snarled and squeezed Clint's ass, "do not belong to me. Where did you get them?"

Clint swallowed hard. He wasn't sure he wanted to reveal his activities, even though he was meant to be learning how to obey Loki. They were just for him and Jenny and Charlotte. That was his. Apparently, his first act as this Loki's thrall would be to defy him. He turned his face the opposite way on the bed so he didn't have to look at the god and stayed silent. Loki hummed, unimpressed, and then a sharp smack landed on his already sore ass and Clint yelped and brought his hands back to cover it.

He snapped his head around and glared at the god, but Loki simply looked down at him with an expectant brow raised. "Where did you get them?" he asked again, this time yanking Clint's sweats down below his ass to get a good look at the mixed markings of Jenny's and Loki's hands. 

Clint refused to feel embarrassed; he'd never been ashamed of his body and he wasn't going to start now, but being laid out and exposed for Loki to condemn felt too raw and he tried yet again to cover himself. Loki tisked and twirled his fingers and then Clint's arms were drawn up the bed and he felt the green swirls around his wrist like weights, holding them in place. "One last chance, my archer. Where did you obtain the marks that are not mine?"

Obstinance rose up in Clint like a tidal wave. How could he have possibly thought that it would be a good idea to bow to Loki? Loki was manic, psychopathic, and he thrived on humiliating others. He didn't want to be under the thumb of an insane man, he thought childishly. Clint clenched his mouth shut and glared at Loki above him but tellingly didn't try to escape or get away.

"Unfortunate," Loki murmured and swung a leg over to straddle Clint's calves. "Don't say I didn't give you opportunities to save yourself." 

If that wasn't foreboding...

Loki pressed both hands into Clint's back and pain flared up under the scratches. He squirmed but Loki only pressed harder, holding Clint against the mattress. He worked his hands in big, sweeping circles over Clint's back- something like a massage if it wasn't sharpened by the pain of Loki's leftover marks. One hand pressed down between Clint's shoulder blades while the other moved down to circle and squeeze at Clint's ass. 

It was infuriating that it hurt so badly and yet somehow felt almost too good. Clint couldn't decide between cowering away and rocking back into it. "They are beautiful markings, Barton, I'll admit. The one who left these must truly understand the importance of their work."

Loki curled his fingers and dug his nails in, making Clint bury his face in the bed and whimper. "Still, I don't appreciate someone else touching my things." Clint struggled under him, turned his head just enough to spit 'fuck you' and received another sharp dig of nails as he compensation. 

"I will cleanse you of them and then replace them with more of my own. Though, I warn you..." He leaned down over Clint's body just close enough that the archer could feel the warm press of his clothed erection against his ass and whispered against his neck. "It will hurt."

Clint hated the weak whine that crawled its way out and he demanded his body to stay still and not roll back against Loki's hips. Still, Loki seemed pleased by Clint's response and delivered a brief peck of his lips to Clint's shoulder before sitting back up and clawing both hands down his back. Then his hands were gone and Clint was shaking before he felt a sudden intense pulling at his ass, like something under his skin was trying to claw its way out. 

The feeling solidified and the pain increased and Clint screamed, clutching the bedding in his bound fists. He collected his trembling muscles enough to turn his head, lips pressed firmly together to keep his noises contained, and looked back over his shoulder to see Loki working his hands over Clint's ass, seeming to pull dark purple directly off his skin like magic paint thinner. The archer watched the color swirl with green in the air and then it seemed to be consumed by it before disappearing. 

His head dropped to the bed, shaking too badly to hold up as the pain only worsened, Clint's entire body tensed and he turned his face just in time to muffle another scream. He kept trying to wrench his hands free, to push Loki off him, but he felt weak and trapped, and worst of all, his cock had filled, pressing uncomfortably into the bed. 

He was getting off on this, on the pain, just as much as Loki seemed to be- which...if Loki was insane, what did that make him?

Little spatterings of whimpers were circling around his head and he couldn't figure out where they were coming from until the pain stopped and his head finally quit ringing and he heard himself mumbled against the bedding. "Please, please, please." The thing was, he wasn't sure if he was begging Loki to stop or to keep going.

"Better," Loki declared before crawling up Clint's body and laying over him, covering him completely and pressing him into the bed. "You are allowed to admit you want this," the god of mischief taunted and rocked his hips against Clint's ass. "I don't need to see your arousal to know that you enjoy the pain. I can taste it in the air around you. I can see the need rising off your body in waves."

Clint panted, breath hot and wet in the small space between his face and the bed. He weakly shook his head, trying to dislodge Loki's words from his mind. Things Clint had barely begun to accept about himself, Loki voiced without hesitation or fanfare. Just simple facts. "Worry not, Barton," Loki purred, mouth right up against his ear. "I will give you all the pain you could dream of, and then more."

"Fuck," Clint gasped before he could stop himself and felt his entire lower body clench with need. The fight in him drained like water down the drain and he melted into the bed. 

Loki only chuckled, making Clint flush with humiliation, before lifting himself up and getting off the bed. Before Clint could look to see where he was going, a hand was wrapped around each ankle and Loki yanked him halfway off the end of the bed. Clint scrabbled for the bedding, felt like he was tumbling off a cliff in his disorientation. 

The dark-haired man dropped his legs to the floor, leaving Clint bent over the end of the bed, ass open and on display. Then, he tugged Clint's pants to the floor and pressed up against him, hands groping possessively over his slightly less-bruised ass and raw back. Clint felt like Loki's hands were everywhere, somehow multiplied- they could've been, but he didn't have the wherewithal to look back and check. 

Instead, Clint was still reeling from the sudden movement and Loki's words as he relished in the press of the god against him. Loki was here and he wanted him and maybe Clint was scared out of his mind but he was willing to endure the heart attack if it got him what he'd been dreaming of.  "Please, Loki," he whispered, his pride keeping his voice low. 

The hands pressed against his ass trailed up to his waist and gripped hard. "Pitiful, Barton. If you are to beg, do so properly." He jabbed his nails in and raked them down to his hips, making Clint's pelvis jump off the bed.

"Please," he forced, voice louder. 

"Please what?" Loki baited.

Clint could barely breathe. His mind was doing that beautiful thing where it shut down and let his body take over and he didn't have to think anymore and he could just feel, but that meant words were hard and sentences even harder. "Want it- want you."

Loki sighed but his hands just kept roaming over Clint's body, nails clawing and snagging on his skin. "Oh, I'm well aware of how badly you want me, darling. What I need to hear is you begging for it."

The archer's veins raced with embarrassment. Loki was pushing him lower, mocking him and reveling in it. It only made his body warm with need. "Please, please, Loki. Please, let me have you. I don't-" He shook his head into the bedding and clenched his fists tighter. "I don't care what you do to me. I need it!"

"Darling," Loki moaned and pulled Clint back by his hips to grind into him. "You beg so beautifully when you allow yourself to." He stepped back, leaving Clint cold and floating, to say, "You are mine, my archer."

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So, so much more Frosthawk coming guys. We're into the good part now. Mwah! Xoxo, Jess