[ What was he expecting? Some kind of dramatic, destructive anecdote full of fraught character dynamics and deadly revenge, probably. Instead... an oversized, presumably permanent prank. It takes him a second or two of Loki's shuddering laughter for the punchline to land, expression travelling from frown through smile through— snort.
Stephen's chuckle runs low and rich, thumping Loki lightly once on the chest in perfunctory reprimand on behalf of another self he's never met and with any luck never will. ]
Idiot.
[ Spoken with enough warmth and enjoyment of the revelation that it might as well be a compliment. Nice job. ]
[ Oh, look at that, it's a peck on the cheek! Stephen tilts his head to look down at Loki, smile small and wry— and takes the moment of distraction to steal Loki's drink, leaning just enough out of the way to sneak a sip. ]
[ The Surprised Pikachu face as his drink is stolen is testament to how tipsy he is already (shouldn't have sipped Asgardian ale and an appletini before Stephen's brew). ]
It is? Just as well the Avengers can't bust in and take me away for my crimes.
[ Here you go, Loki, your glass. Within reach but still resting in Stephen's hand, like a ten-dollar bill on the sidewalk that may or may not be connected to somebody's clear twine. ]
[ The most sus look ever is shot the short distance Stephen's way as Loki eyes the innocent hold he has on Loki's drink. A nervous giggle bubbles up and he curls his hand by his lips, shaking his head. ]
[ He's making a serious face, the picture of innocence! But it stretches a little, play peeking out from the frown he pulls on with Loki's announcement. He may only be a few sips and a hearty gulp into his ale, but for better or worse he's still mortal. ]
You're one of the most powerful sorcerers on any planet and I am nowhere near that stupid, you've done something to my drink.
[ But he takes it anyway, and because he does in fact trust him, he knocks it back and makes a show of downing it in a few gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. ]
[ A smug tuck of his mouth and Stephen leans back, watching Loki with an impressive mock-up of an actual professional sorcerer man surveying his well done work. ]
[ Loki squirms around smoothly as a snake under that encircling arm and inclines his body alongside Stephen's, draping an arm across a lap to rest his glass on the other man's far hip. ]
Can't you, Stephen?
[ Arching a brow, a green gaze flickers under long inky lashes to Stephen's mouth. ]
[ A brief flutter of lashes as Loki deftly changes the state of play. There's an argument to say he should've seen it coming, another to say he did. Whatever the case Stephen's caught for a held-breath moment somewhere between sobering quickly and... not.
Then the forefingers of the arm draped about Loki's shoulders press their tips lightly to the exposed skin of his throat. It's a brief leak. A bright flex of the magic that had once played between their palms on a crowded dancefloor shared instead with the closest bare skin he can find. A warning jolt or a met challenge, kept in the realm of play with the signature of a familiar game. ]
[ The way he startles a little and his lips part says enough about how unexpected that was, pupils dilating as his smile widens with a breathless chuckle. ]
I see how it is ...
[ He wrinkles his nose playfully and brings Stephen's index finger around, a little higher, pausing to give him time to draw it away if he wants to before Loki draws it into his mouth with a lick. Magic sparkles on his lips and the tongue Stephen's finger rests upon, seiðr simmering to life. ]
[ There's no resistance, not even as Loki leaves him ample time to ease back. Instead Stephen watches, knowing, waiting, and although it's inevitable his inhale still shudders as Loki's tongue guides his finger into his mouth.
Warning, warning. You're flying a little too close to the sun here, Stephen Strange. Warm, wet muscle and magic settled under your fingerpad where the nerves are still working just fine, lips an infused promise.
Stephen's finger turns in Loki's mouth as he reaches his thumb to catch at his bottom lip, ease it gently down, the rest of his hand a careful frame for Loki's jaw. ]
Good tactic. Can't get you drunk with your mouth full.
[ There's a distraction in his expression, like he's forgotten to shift it, the ghost of a wry smile not quite making its way into anything that counts. His gaze, seeking Loki's, is heavy with the urge to drop again. But that thumb, at least, remains. A counterpoint. Pin in the notion that he should cycle this back. ]
[ Loki watches him like a hawk under his lashes, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he holds position with Stephen's thumb on his lower lip. He reads the pause, blinks slowly as if to promise he might stop, chastened.
When he licks at that thumb again his tongue is a little longer than a human's for the half-second he flicks it out for a taste, magic sparkling. ]
It's enough to earn a sharp, startled inward hiss of breath— and the chill of that in his own mouth jogs his primed resolve. Thumb draws away and with no small exertion of will Stephen slips his finger free... though not far. It curls to rest against Loki's lips where magic can still flirt against damp skin.
His eyes are closed now, laughter ghosting out on a shallow breath. ]
[ It's permission, as far as Loki is concerned when Stephen eases his grip. He huffs a cool breath of his own over that hand and nips at that finger and thumb, trying to curl his dextrous tongue around a digit and draw it back into the soft wetness of his mouth. Come here, you. Magic twinkles over his lips, chaos swirling and magnetic as added encouragement. ]
Stephen. [ It sounds lewd out loud which is exactly why he says in an undertone, ] Let me suck your fingers.
[ The mottled orange-red of the backs of his eyelids makes a good viewing platform for sensation, teeth and cool air and tongue and the ever-present thrill of magic. But finally his recently caught finger escapes the lure of Loki's mouth, hand shifting to a cradle for jaw and chin so he can place a firmer thumb this time just below the god's mouth.
It's still in the danger zone, but what can you do? Baby steps. ]
I don't think I will.
[ His eyes open again, blue darkened by the blow of his pupils but clear enough at least to speak of resolve. The twist of his expression still leans toward the soft: a sparring partner bested quickly and calling time. ]
[ Loki grins, eyes crinkling, and pokes his tongue out with his jaw held firm. I win, is the sentiment there, delighted and brimming with mischief. He would push his luck as far as it could go, but he settles for the trophy of seeing desire in those blue eyes. ]
Make me another drink to keep my mouth busy, then.
[ The loss feels fine. And a few sips fewer, the memory of the manner of Loki's victory a little less fresh, Stephen might've simply done as he was bid. The mischief in that flicker of tongue through a grin may never have set off a similar impulse.
Loki's jaw is caught in his hand, proximity making everything a little too easy. With a telltale twitch of his own mouth and a shift of his thumb to tilt Loki's head just so, Stephen leans in and ghosts a smirk over the outer corner of that grin, close, close enough for warmth and soft breath to leap the gap—
And then he's entirely gone, along with Loki's glass, with only the dry rumble of his voice talking at Frank behind the bar mingled amongst the general hum of the clientele to indicate where he's got to. ]
[ Oh. He tilts into the not-kiss, lips brushing as his eyes close and he drinks in every detail; the feel of a beard against his smooth skin, hot breath, the nudge of a nose by his cheek ...
And then Stephen, the filthy tease, is off making Loki that requested drink like he didn't just almost short-circuit a god's brain. There's some kind of thin line being trodden and Loki doesn't want to overstep, but in the same vein he absolutely wants to throw everything he has at getting him right back where he was a minute ago. He licks his lips and sits back, loosening his tie further as he watches Stephen flitting around, annoying poor Frank. He opts for patience, even if he sees no point in hiding how he's undressing Stephen with his eyes. ]
[ It doesn't take long to finish the mix, even making a nuisance of himself between ingredients. He walks the return journey, unhurried and un-self-conscious under an attention he can see as easily as feel, one new bright green monstrosity in a martini glass soon set down delicately in front of Loki.
Stephen then slides, with impressive grace for a man (very) steadily making his way through a glass of something fit for gods, into the booth bench across the table from Loki. Liquid sloshes precariously with the imprecision of the spellwork as he summons his own drink across to him with a gesture of his hand. ]
[ The other side of the booth table? Boo, you whore. ]
Afraid I'll get hungry and bite next?
[ Mmm, his new drink is very moreish. He'll have to be careful or he'll lose his head and he's been way too drunk around Stephen too often for his liking already. ]
[ Frankly, that would be a serious underestimation of Loki's capacity for capriciousness. But he doesn't look like he's taking it too seriously, another sip of his drink down. ]
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Stephen's chuckle runs low and rich, thumping Loki lightly once on the chest in perfunctory reprimand on behalf of another self he's never met and with any luck never will. ]
Idiot.
[ Spoken with enough warmth and enjoyment of the revelation that it might as well be a compliment. Nice job. ]
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I promise not to vanish this one unless absolutely necessary.
[ Look out, Stephen, a peck on the cheek is incoming! ]
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[ Oh, look at that, it's a peck on the cheek! Stephen tilts his head to look down at Loki, smile small and wry— and takes the moment of distraction to steal Loki's drink, leaning just enough out of the way to sneak a sip. ]
... Mhmm. Still got it.
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That's called stealing.
[ - said with great gravitas! ]
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It is? Just as well the Avengers can't bust in and take me away for my crimes.
[ Here you go, Loki, your glass. Within reach but still resting in Stephen's hand, like a ten-dollar bill on the sidewalk that may or may not be connected to somebody's clear twine. ]
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I don't trust you!
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That's mean. I'm just sitting here.
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[ But he takes it anyway, and because he does in fact trust him, he knocks it back and makes a show of downing it in a few gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. ]
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Well? Any guesses?
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You're getting me drunk.
[ Safe bet!! ]
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That's what you get for ordering me Asgardian ale.
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[ Loki squirms around smoothly as a snake under that encircling arm and inclines his body alongside Stephen's, draping an arm across a lap to rest his glass on the other man's far hip. ]
Can't you, Stephen?
[ Arching a brow, a green gaze flickers under long inky lashes to Stephen's mouth. ]
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Then the forefingers of the arm draped about Loki's shoulders press their tips lightly to the exposed skin of his throat. It's a brief leak. A bright flex of the magic that had once played between their palms on a crowded dancefloor shared instead with the closest bare skin he can find. A warning jolt or a met challenge, kept in the realm of play with the signature of a familiar game. ]
I can.
[ So watch your step. ]
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I see how it is ...
[ He wrinkles his nose playfully and brings Stephen's index finger around, a little higher, pausing to give him time to draw it away if he wants to before Loki draws it into his mouth with a lick. Magic sparkles on his lips and the tongue Stephen's finger rests upon, seiðr simmering to life. ]
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Warning, warning. You're flying a little too close to the sun here, Stephen Strange. Warm, wet muscle and magic settled under your fingerpad where the nerves are still working just fine, lips an infused promise.
Stephen's finger turns in Loki's mouth as he reaches his thumb to catch at his bottom lip, ease it gently down, the rest of his hand a careful frame for Loki's jaw. ]
Good tactic. Can't get you drunk with your mouth full.
[ There's a distraction in his expression, like he's forgotten to shift it, the ghost of a wry smile not quite making its way into anything that counts. His gaze, seeking Loki's, is heavy with the urge to drop again. But that thumb, at least, remains. A counterpoint. Pin in the notion that he should cycle this back. ]
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When he licks at that thumb again his tongue is a little longer than a human's for the half-second he flicks it out for a taste, magic sparkling. ]
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It's enough to earn a sharp, startled inward hiss of breath— and the chill of that in his own mouth jogs his primed resolve. Thumb draws away and with no small exertion of will Stephen slips his finger free... though not far. It curls to rest against Loki's lips where magic can still flirt against damp skin.
His eyes are closed now, laughter ghosting out on a shallow breath. ]
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Stephen. [ It sounds lewd out loud which is exactly why he says in an undertone, ] Let me suck your fingers.
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It's still in the danger zone, but what can you do? Baby steps. ]
I don't think I will.
[ His eyes open again, blue darkened by the blow of his pupils but clear enough at least to speak of resolve. The twist of his expression still leans toward the soft: a sparring partner bested quickly and calling time. ]
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Make me another drink to keep my mouth busy, then.
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Loki's jaw is caught in his hand, proximity making everything a little too easy. With a telltale twitch of his own mouth and a shift of his thumb to tilt Loki's head just so, Stephen leans in and ghosts a smirk over the outer corner of that grin, close, close enough for warmth and soft breath to leap the gap—
And then he's entirely gone, along with Loki's glass, with only the dry rumble of his voice talking at Frank behind the bar mingled amongst the general hum of the clientele to indicate where he's got to. ]
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And then Stephen, the filthy tease, is off making Loki that requested drink like he didn't just almost short-circuit a god's brain. There's some kind of thin line being trodden and Loki doesn't want to overstep, but in the same vein he absolutely wants to throw everything he has at getting him right back where he was a minute ago. He licks his lips and sits back, loosening his tie further as he watches Stephen flitting around, annoying poor Frank. He opts for patience, even if he sees no point in hiding how he's undressing Stephen with his eyes. ]
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Stephen then slides, with impressive grace for a man (very) steadily making his way through a glass of something fit for gods, into the booth bench across the table from Loki. Liquid sloshes precariously with the imprecision of the spellwork as he summons his own drink across to him with a gesture of his hand. ]
Since you asked so nicely.
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Afraid I'll get hungry and bite next?
[ Mmm, his new drink is very moreish. He'll have to be careful or he'll lose his head and he's been way too drunk around Stephen too often for his liking already. ]
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[ Frankly, that would be a serious underestimation of Loki's capacity for capriciousness. But he doesn't look like he's taking it too seriously, another sip of his drink down. ]
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