Chapter Text
Adam. Adam Warlock.
The perfect man. Impeccable, radiant, composed. A being sculpted from gold and starlight.
But what is perfection, really?
Surely it cannot be Adam Warlock. Not this Adam. Not the man currently kneeling between Loki’s spread legs, his mouth worshipping bare skin like a man starved of salvation.
No, perfection couldn’t look like this. Perfection couldn’t breathe this heavily, touch this greedily, desire this wildly.
Their affair had been kept in the shadows for months. By choice. By necessity.
Loki had pride, after all. The kind that refused to be seen dragging himself behind someone so gleamingly “pure,” someone the universe had labeled divine. His brother would mock him, the realms would laugh, and perhaps, most terrifying of all, he might actually care.
As for Adam... his reasons were simpler. His companions saw him as a symbol of order, intellect, restraint. What would they say if they knew he spent his nights tangled in the arms of the God of Lies, leaving bruises on his throat and scratches down his spine? It'd raise many questions and eyebrows, it was easier this way.
But the Adam behind closed doors was nothing like the myth.
Quiet, yes. Composed, certainly. Intelligent, painfully so.
But also—unhinged. Obsessive. Possessive.
No one had ever unraveled Loki like this man did. No one had ever terrified him in the way he both craved and loathed.
And yet, it wasn’t even a real relationship—not officially. They kissed, they shared meals, they sometimes talked until the stars dimmed. But the glue that held them together was physical, volatile, burning.
They didn’t need labels. Not when their bodies spoke in tongues their mouths were too proud to utter.
The first time it happened, it had been Loki who’d taken the reins. He’d seduced Adam with silky words and harder actions, confident that the man would fall in line like the others had. That night, he had been rough, dominant, utterly in control. He had expected Adam to break under him, to follow.
Instead, Adam awoke.
By their next encounter, the golden man had pinned Loki down with a force so feral it stole the breath from his lungs. Hands like iron, lips like flame. Loki remembered choking out a trembling purr: “My, what’s gotten into you?”
Adam didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Something inside him had snapped—or perhaps been released.
From that night onward, Adam stopped pretending. No longer the careful, patient creature others believed him to be. No, beneath all that restraint had been a beast, starved and waiting.
And now, here they were again. Back in that liminal space between lust and danger.
Loki lay on the bed, bare and unashamed, legs parted as if welcoming war. Adam sat between them, shirtless and golden, his skin glowing faintly in the low light, the scent of wine still clinging to his breath.
They had been drinking. Not Loki—that was routine for him. But Adam? When Adam drank, his touch turned reverent. His kisses became poetry. His actions... unfiltered.
Now, his hands trailed slowly up Loki’s thighs, palms warm and steady, mouth brushing the skin with soft, lingering kisses. Not rushed. Not urgent. Just consuming.
“You are... unspeakably gorgeous,” he whispered, voice low and rich. “My precious, wicked soul. If I could taste a supernova, it would be you.”
His lips grazed the delicate skin near the crease of Loki’s thigh. His breath was warm and deliberate, almost cruel in its slowness. But his eyes—his eyes never left Loki’s. They glowed with worship and hunger, all at once.
Loki smirked lazily, brushing the damp curls from Adam’s face. “You’re horrifyingly corny when you’re drunk, Warlock. Are you going to keep serenading my legs or finally give me what I’ve been waiting for?”
Adam chuckled, the sound deep and dangerous. “Patience looks sinfully good on you. A shame you wear it so rarely.”
He rose from between Loki’s legs like a tide coming to claim its shore. One hand curled firmly around Loki’s throat, not choking, just grounding—just owning. The other braced against the mattress as he loomed closer.
Their lips nearly touched.
“But your desperation,” Adam whispered, brushing his thumb against the hollow of Loki’s throat, “now that is divine.”
Loki’s breath hitched, just slightly.
He would never admit how badly he wanted this. How often he thought of Adam’s voice breaking in his ear, of hands gripping too tight, of being undone over and over again by someone who wasn’t supposed to touch him like this.
“Then take me like a goddamn star collapsing,” Loki growled, voice sharp and sweet, like a threat whispered through silk. “And stop teasing like a coward.”
Adam smiled—not kindly. Slowly, he pushed Loki back into the bed, hands trailing over his chest, his waist, every inch of skin like a treasure he had to memorize.
“Oh, I don’t tease, Loki,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth again, lower this time, painfully slow. “I worship. And you—you begged to be a shrine.”
And then,
Their bodies collided with a force that shook the mattress, their mouths clashing hungrily, hands roaming with feverish urgency. Words became irrelevant; their language was now teeth, tongues, and nails dragging down flushed skin.
But beneath the frantic heat, there was an undercurrent—a war.
This wasn’t just sex. It never was with them. It was a battle for dominance.
Loki had grown restless with Adam’s increasingly creative kinks. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed them—he had, perhaps too much. But there was only so much a trickster god could take before his pride demanded retaliation.
Last time, Adam had surprised him with delicate black lace lingerie, perfectly tailored to hug Loki’s lean frame. It had been humiliatingly effective. Adam had spent hours worshipping him through the fabric, praising him until Loki’s sharp tongue could only spill whimpers.
But today... today felt different. The golden man’s eyes had that glint again—the dangerous one that meant Loki wouldn’t be leaving the bed unscathed.
“I brought something new, my dear,” Adam murmured, breaking their kiss so abruptly it left Loki dazed.
The god of mischief propped himself up on his elbows, narrowing his green eyes suspiciously as Adam reached down to retrieve a small bag from the floor. It looked deceptively innocent—simple, unmarked, freshly purchased.
“That’s never a good sign.” Loki’s voice dripped sarcasm, though there was a faint tightness to it, a subtle unease curling in his belly. “Let me guess… an animal tail? Or perhaps handcuffs? Shall I brace myself for your next charming perversion?”
Adam didn’t answer.
Instead, he upended the bag, letting its contents spill across the sheets between them.
Scarlet ropes, coiled neatly like predatory serpents, tumbled into view.
Loki’s breath caught. For once, words failed him.
“Ropes?” he said flatly. His tone was dry, incredulous, but his pale fingers twitched slightly as if resisting the urge to touch them. “You intend to tie me up? Loki. Prince of Asgard. God of Mischief. Shackled like some common criminal?”
He raised a brow, his lip curling in mockery. But Adam only watched him with that unnerving calm, golden eyes unblinking.
“I figured you’d enjoy something as intimate as bondage,” Adam said evenly, his voice low and smooth. “It strikes me as your kind of indulgence—control given, then reclaimed.”
That nearly did it.
How dare he speak so boldly. So assured.
And yet, dammit– it was hot. The image burned in Loki’s mind: crimson ropes digging into his pale wrists, Adam’s golden hands tightening knots, that impossibly steady voice commanding him to submit.
Loki’s pride snarled, but his body betrayed him with a shiver.
“Charming assumption,” Loki drawled, reaching out to pluck one of the ropes from the pile. The silk felt cool and soft against his palm. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed it along Adam’s bare chest, letting the vibrant red stand stark against gleaming gold. “Although… these ropes would look far more decadent wrapped around you, my golden darling.”
He leaned in, his lips grazing Adam’s ear as he whispered, “I could ride you tonight. Watch you writhe, hear you say my name like a sailor begging the heavens for rain. Doesn’t that sound far more delicious?”
Adam’s eyes flickered, but not with hesitation. No, this was hunger, deeper and darker.
“Tempting,” Adam admitted, his lips curling in a slow, wicked smile. “But I’m afraid I’ve made up my mind, Laufeyson.”
Before Loki could react, Adam moved.
His strong hands pushed Loki down into the mattress, pinning him with ease. Loki let out a sharp gasp, more from surprise than protest.
“Adam–”
“Shhh.” Adam’s golden fingers were already working deftly, looping the red rope around Loki’s wrists. His movements were meticulous, almost reverent. With each pass, the bindings grew tighter, intricate knots biting into pale skin.
“You will not be slipping free of these, not with your usual tricks,” Adam murmured. His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent in it now—a promise. “Your pale body wears them beautifully, my godling. Tonight, I’m not letting you escape. Not for some hours.”
Loki tugged at the ropes experimentally, his lips parting in surprise as he found no give. His pride flared hot in his chest, but so did something else, something far more treacherous.
“I should burn these to ash,” he hissed, his emerald eyes flashing. “I should–”
“But you won’t.” Adam’s hand gripped Loki’s chin, tilting his face up so their gazes locked. His golden eyes were molten, unwavering. “Because we both know you’re aching to find out what happens next.”
Loki’s pulse thundered in his ears. He hated how right Adam was. Hated how his skin felt feverish where the ropes bit into his flesh.
“I will make you beg tonight, Laufeyson,” Adam whispered, his lips ghosting over Loki’s. “And when you do, I’ll remind you it was you who surrendered first.”
“Oh, screw you, Warlock,” Loki muttered into the sheets, his voice muffled, sullen.
The words dripped with venom, but they were a poor disguise. Beneath the sarcasm, a heat coiled low in his stomach—tight, unbearable. His skin felt feverish where the ropes kissed it, each knot like a brand. He cursed himself for feeling this way.
And yet, he waited.
Painfully patient for a man who claimed not to enjoy such games.
He felt Adam behind him—the deliberate movements of strong hands, the silk of red rope gliding over pale skin. Each loop was tied with infuriating precision, firm enough to hold him yet stopping just short of real pain. Loki’s pulse thudded against the bindings, each pull and knot tightening his chest in more ways than one.
When Adam finally rolled him onto his back to finish the work, Loki’s green eyes flashed with indignation. His limbs lay still under the knots, utterly useless, bound in such a way that even his famed magic would falter.
It was then Adam’s gaze dropped, and Loki caught it, the unmistakable flicker of amusement on his golden lips as his eyes lingered on the swelling evidence of Loki’s arousal.
“Oh, do tell me the joke,” Loki sneered, rolling his eyes even as his cheeks grew warm. “I could use a good laugh while being treated like a sacrificial offering.”
Adam’s fingers brushed against Loki’s cheek, slow and deliberate. His smile widened, but it was soft, not mocking.
“I’m not laughing, am I?” he murmured. “It’s just... you were whining not a moment ago about ‘screwing me,’ yet here you are, so obscenely aroused I could mistake you for begging.”
“I am not aroused,” Loki shot back, tilting his chin defiantly.
Adam’s golden eyes sparkled as he let his thumb glide down the god’s throat, then lower still, tracing the faint line of his sternum.
“My love,” Adam said smoothly, his voice like warm honey, “you are spilling.”
The room fell silent for a beat, save for the quickening sound of Loki’s breath.
“...Fine,” Loki conceded finally, his voice low, sharp. “I might be. But it’s not because of these ridiculous ropes. It’s because I’ve been waiting to be fucked all damned night, Adam. So if you’re quite finished with your artistry, I suggest you get on with it.”
Adam chuckled, a deep rich sound that made Loki’s stomach tighten even more.
“Then my apologies for keeping your majesty waiting,” Adam murmured as he slid off the bed. Loki’s gaze followed him warily, noting the way the golden man moved with unhurried confidence, like a predator certain of his prey.
Adam retrieved a small glass bottle from his bag, holding it up between his fingers. The amber oil inside caught the light, refracting it like liquid fire.
“Although...” Adam’s voice deepened as he sauntered back to the bed, unscrewing the lid. “You’ll have to wait a little longer.”
“If you make me wait even one second more, I’ll– ah”
The sound broke from Loki’s throat before he could stop it.
Adam’s oiled palm had cupped him suddenly, fingers closing with just enough pressure to send a shudder rolling through Loki’s restrained body. The coolness of the oil turned to heat under Adam’s skilled hand, slicking over his erection with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Quiet,” Adam whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed the shell of Loki’s ear. “Wear your patience with demure, Laufeyson. I’m not in a rush tonight.”
“Damn you...” Loki hissed through clenched teeth, though his hips betrayed him with a shallow, helpless thrust into Adam’s palm. “Damn you to the coldest corners of Hel– ahh-”
Adam ignored the curses, his other hand beginning to smooth oil across the bound god’s chest, down his stomach, over the taut muscles shifting beneath pale skin. His touch was maddeningly tender, like he was anointing a deity rather than preparing a lover.
“You are beautiful like this,” Adam murmured, almost reverently. “Tied, silenced by need, glowing with desperation. I could spend eternity just watching you unravel.”
“You’re so annoying,” Loki spat weakly, his voice cracking as Adam’s thumb teased the head of his cock. “And, ah– utterly insufferable.”
“But you’d let me do this for hours, wouldn’t you?” Adam pressed a kiss to Loki’s jawline, his lips soft and warm. “My precious cold heart.”
A whimper escaped Loki before he could swallow it. His body arched instinctively against the ropes, every muscle taut as Adam’s hand kept stroking, slow and cruelly consistent.
“Say it,” Adam coaxed, his voice dropping lower. “Say you want me. Say it, or I’ll stop.”
“Never,” Loki snarled, though the sound was weaker now, softer.
“Then I’ll take it from your body instead,” Adam replied simply, his golden fingers working Loki to the brink with measured precision
Adam’s hand never faltered, his strokes maddeningly slow, calculated. Loki’s body trembled against the ropes, muscles taut as a bowstring, every nerve alight with need.
“Darn it–” Loki hissed, biting back another sound, determined not to give Adam the satisfaction.
But Adam was relentless. His golden fingers glided over the slick, oiled length of Loki’s cock, teasing the sensitive head with a feather-light touch before retreating entirely, leaving him aching and leaking into the sheets.
“Your body betrays you,” Adam murmured, almost tenderly, his eyes drinking in every twitch and shiver. “It craves surrender even as your tongue refuses it.”
“Bastard...” Loki rasped, struggling against his bonds. But the ropes held firm, biting just enough into pale skin to remind him of his helplessness. “You’ll– ngh– pay for this, Warlock.”
Adam only smiled. “Will I? Or will you?”
Then, without warning, Adam’s hand returned—slick, warm, perfectly controlled. He worked Loki up again with a few slow, devastating strokes until Loki’s hips strained against the restraints, a low, strangled groan tearing from his throat.
Just as the pleasure crested, just as release seemed inevitable, Adam stopped.
His palm hovered, dripping oil, so close Loki could feel the residual heat.
“No-” Loki growled, thrashing in his bonds. “Don’t you dare stop–”
“I told you I am in no rush,” Adam said softly, running his fingers idly down Loki’s trembling thigh. “You’re not ready yet.”
Loki’s emerald eyes flashed with fury, but there was something else in them now too—something far more dangerous. Realization.
“You are...” Loki panted, his voice faltering as he watched Adam reach for the bottle of oil again. “You are definitely running a second game here.”
“Am I?” Adam replied, feigning innocence as he drizzled more oil across Loki’s chest, letting it pool and run in rivulets down to his stomach. He spread it slowly, deliberately, as though savoring the act of preparing his lover.
Loki’s mind raced. The knots, the waiting, the constant withdrawal—oh.
“You’re edging me,” Loki accused, his voice sharp but betraying a tremor.
Adam’s smirk was infuriating. “So perceptive. Took you long enough.”
“You are vile.”
“You enjoy it, don’t you?” Adam murmured, leaning closer until his lips brushed Loki’s ear, his oiled hand gripping him once more. “Shaking. Throbbing. Aching for me to finish what I started.”
“I do not shake–” Loki’s protest crumbled into a guttural moan as Adam’s fingers tightened, stroking him with expert precision until the pleasure rose again like a wave.
And then, again—nothing.
Adam pulled his hand away entirely, watching Loki’s flushed face and heaving chest with quiet satisfaction.
“You bastard–!” Loki snarled, arching against the ropes. His skin glistened from the oil and sweat, his body writhing in desperate need. “You can’t just–”
“Shh.” Adam’s thumb pressed lightly against Loki’s lips. “You’ll speak only when I allow it.”
Loki’s pride screamed at him to fight, but his body trembled violently, his cock twitching helplessly as precome dripped down his length. He was so close he could taste it, and yet Adam stood firm, his expression maddeningly calm.
“Beg me,” Adam said finally, his voice low and commanding.
“In your dreams.” Loki’s words came out weak, unconvincing even to his own ears.
“Then we wait,” Adam replied smoothly, as though discussing something mundane.
Minutes passed—or was it hours? Time dissolved into nothing but the pounding of Loki’s heart and the pulsing ache between his legs. Every touch Adam gave him... fingers grazing his ribs, lips brushing his neck, it was maddeningly light, feeding the fire but never letting it burn out.
Finally, Loki broke.
“Please,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. “Adam, I– please...”
“Please what?” Adam’s golden eyes gleamed as he tilted his head, fingers tracing idle circles along Loki’s inner thigh. “You’ll have to be specific.”
“Finish it. Fuck me. I can’t– damn it, I can’t take it anymore!”
Adam smiled then... slow, wicked, triumphant.
“Better.”
With measured movements, he turned Loki over onto his stomach, the ropes digging deliciously into pale skin. Adam paused for a moment, admiring the sight before him: Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief, bound and flushed, hips trembling with need.
“Gods...” Adam exhaled softly. His hands trailed over Loki’s ass, thumbs spreading him slightly as he admired the vulnerable display. “You’re exquisite like this. A masterpiece of defiance undone.”
“Adam–” Loki’s voice cracked, thick with desperation. “Please. Don’t make me beg again.”
Adam chuckled darkly, reaching for the oil once more.
“A shame you don’t deserve it yet.”
“Aarrghhh!” Loki let out a frustrated, broken sound as Adam poured oil over his lower back, his golden hands massaging it in, moving lower and lower, never quite where Loki needed him. “You fucking twisted piece of shit!”
“Patience, my love,” Adam whispered, lips ghosting over the back of Loki’s neck. “I’ll give you what you crave when I decide you’ve earned it. You just have to wait.”
Loki’s pride was in tatters, his body shaking with need, and still Adam held him there—teetering on the brink, lost to the golden man’s touch and voice.
Adam’s golden hands smoothed more oil over his palms, the rich scent filling the room as he settled comfortably between Loki’s trembling thighs. His eyes drank in the sight before him, the once-proud god bound in crimson rope, pale skin glowing under the dim light, muscles taut from strain and need.
“You’re exquisite,” Adam murmured, his voice low, reverent. His thumbs traced small circles over the sensitive skin of Loki’s hips, slipping dangerously close to where Loki ached most. “Every inch of you... designed for worship.”
“Adam–” Loki’s voice cracked, his forehead pressing into the sheets. “Please...”
“Shhh,” Adam cooed, planting soft kisses along Loki’s spine. “We’re not rushing. Not when you look like this. Not when I can feel you trembling for me.”
His fingers slipped lower, gliding through the slick mess of oil and precome. He teased Loki’s entrance with lazy strokes, not enough to penetrate, just enough to make him buck weakly against the ropes.
“Adam– Gods...I– ...Please just put it in–”
“Listen to yourself,” Adam whispered against the nape of his neck. “Do you hear how beautifully you beg? The mighty trickster reduced to this... all because I for once, haven’t given you what you want.”
Loki let out a raw, frustrated sound. His pride had shattered long ago, replaced by desperate, hungry need that left him breathless.
“Please. I need you– I need you inside me, I’ll do anything!”
Adam smirked, his hand sliding back to Loki’s cock, stroking him slow and firm again until Loki’s back arched, a strangled cry escaping his lips.
“Anything?” Adam asked softly.
“Yes! Anything– ahhh– please!” Loki’s voice dissolved into helpless whimpers as Adam brought him dangerously close once more. His body tensed, ready to break.
And again, Adam stopped.
Loki let out a ragged sob, hips jerking futilely.
“You’re being cruel–” he gasped.
“No, my love,” Adam corrected gently, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Loki’s temple. “I’m thorough.”
His golden fingers returned to Loki’s entrance, circling and pressing until the tight ring of muscle gave way, just enough for one finger to slide in. Loki moaned low in his throat, his bound hands clenching into fists.
“Your body welcomes me already,” Adam murmured, his tone shifting from teasing to soft adoration. “So eager. So perfect.”
He worked him open slowly, deliberately, adding a second finger, scissoring them to stretch Loki just enough to make him squirm. Loki’s pride was long gone—each sound from his lips more desperate, more humiliating than the last.
“Adam... please... take me... ruin me–”
“Ruin you?” Adam’s lips curled in a smile against Loki’s ear. “No, my dearest. I’ll give you perfection.”
By the time he pulled his fingers free, Loki was trembling from head to toe, his cock flushed and leaking against his stomach. Adam slicked himself generously with oil, the sound of his hand stroking his own length almost obscene in the quiet room.
“You’re mine,” Adam said softly, lining himself up. He pressed the head of his cock against Loki’s entrance, pausing to savor the moment. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours,” Loki whispered brokenly. “Yours. Only yours. Please—please, Adam–”
Adam pushed in slowly, filling him inch by torturous inch until he was fully sheathed, the heat of Loki’s body gripping him tightly.
“Oh, my– God! Yes, yes! Finally–”
Loki let out a sob of relief, his head falling back against the mattress.
“Beautiful,” Adam murmured, his hands roaming over Loki’s chest, stroking his bound wrists, his slick, quivering thighs. “So beautiful when you’re this vulnerable. I could stay buried inside you forever.”
“Move– please–” Loki whimpered. “I can’t– I can’t take it anymore—”
“Patient. You can hold longer.” Adam pressed a soft kiss to Loki’s shoulder before drawing back, then thrusting in again—slow, deep, deliberate. Each stroke was measured to pull another sound from Loki’s trembling lips.
Loki was reduced to incoherence now, sobbing and gasping as Adam set a slow, relentless rhythm, his golden hands guiding his hips to meet each thrust.
“Such a good boy,” Adam whispered. “Taking me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be fucked until you forget your own name.”
“Please– faster, Adam...”
But Adam only hummed, keeping the pace steady, his cock dragging over that sweet spot inside Loki with every movement.
Passed some moments, a painful time where his humps were so slow they gave more pleasure than he could ever think, and then—came the signs of Loki's soon coming.
“Ah-ah.” Adam stopped immediately. “You’ll come when I say,” Adam growled softly into his ear. “Not a second before.”
“I–I can’t—aghhn–” Loki’s cry turned into a choked sob as Adam’s hand wrapped around his slick cock again, stroking in perfect time with his thrusts.
“Hold it,” Adam commanded.
“Please...”
“Hold it.”
It was too much. Too intense. Loki’s body trembled violently as Adam’s pace finally quickened, his strokes harder now, angled to hit every sensitive spot deep inside.
“Beg me one last time,” Adam ordered, his voice low and feral. “I want to hear it before I let you break.”
“Please!” Loki sobbed, shameless now, completely undone. “Please let me finish! Please, Adam, don’t stop– don’t ever stop!”
“That’s it,” Adam whispered, his own voice tight with restraint. “Finish for me, my dear. Let me see you fall apart.”
Loki’s release hit him like a tidal wave, a raw, guttural cry ripping from his throat as he spilled over Adam’s hand and onto the sheets below. His entire body convulsed in ecstasy, the ropes holding him tight as he trembled through it.
Adam followed moments later with a low, satisfied groan, burying himself deep as his own climax washed over him.
For a long moment, there was only their ragged breathing, their bodies slick and tangled. Adam leaned down, pressing a reverent kiss to the back of Loki’s neck.
“You’re extraordinary,” he murmured. “Every part of you.”
Loki let out a soft, exhausted laugh. “I’ll never trust you in bed ever again...”
“Oh, but you begged for me,” Adam said gently, untangling the ropes with careful fingers. “You know more than me how much you expect next time.”
“Nonsense,” Loki whispered, his pride shattered but his heart pounding with something dangerously close to contentment.
Adam smiled softly as he gathered Loki into his arms, holding him close as if he were the most precious thing in all the universe.
“I love you,”
“How about you untie me first?”
“Right. I’ve got you.”