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Soulmate searching (and finding) became a very easy quest once Tony Stark decided to make it the main focus of Stark Industries. He had amends to make, after all. Not that he could ever be forgiven by those who’d been harmed, or by himself.
His father’s wrath didn’t matter. When the old man died with a sneer on his lips, Tony attended the funerals, and then did his best to console his grieving mother. He himself didn’t grieve. There was no lost love between Edward Stark and his only son and heir, only a series of misunderstandings that had culminated in the infamous change of SI’s main selling speech.
You are looking for your soulmate? Stark Industries can help you.
Tony wanted to help people. That was why he spent so many sleepless hours at night, trying to figure out a way to improve the soulmate seeking system. To his profound dismay, he’d discovered over the years that not everyone could meet their soulmates, and many would end up with someone who didn’t suit them at all, which had been the case with his own parents. There were also cases of soulmates already dead, or dying. Someone's soulmate may also be in a war zone, or much too young to meet with their other half just yet. In the latter case, the soulmate bond would start as a simple friendship and evolve naturally over time.
Or, someone’s soulmate could be Tony Stark, which wouldn’t do at all.
*
He’d been drunk that night; there was no other reason that could explain such stupidity on his part. He’d decided years ago that he didn’t want to know, and now what was he doing? Typing his own freaking name, date of birth and all the other relevant info to learn who was the unlucky person stuck with him.
There was always a name, but no picture. It was not different in his case.
Loki Laufeyson, age 28, available.
Tony clicked the window shut immediately and took another slug of scotch. He should forget about this. Should pretend he’d never seen those words, but he already knew that they were branded in his mind forever.
*
He didn’t forget, but he also never searched for his soulmate.
It was for the best, he told himself. Loki Laufeyson, now 29, deserved better than one broken, cynical, work alcoholic (and also alcoholic) man in his mid-forties. He’d fucked and been fucked by half the city of New York before coming to the realization that selling weapons was not what he should be doing with his life, his wealth, or his intelligence. This decision had almost cost him his life, thanks to that foul Obadiah, but now Stark Industries was devoted to helping people finding their soulmates, and if the head of SI didn’t deserve his, that was no one’s business beside his own.
Tony Stark was not soulmate material, it was as simple as that. He didn’t deserve that kind of happiness. The feeling of bliss, of utter completion, one experienced upon finding their soulmate, was for other people... that is, people who hadn’t killed millions out of indifference, who hadn’t sold weapons to terrorists out of ignorance. Some sins were simply unforgivable, whether or not you moonlighted as Iron Man.
He’d spent at least a fortnight designing the virus in the soulmate seeking system that would prevent people like him, and dangerous criminals, from finding and being found by their soulmate. Of course, he already knew who his was, but at least Loki could go on with his life knowing that his soulmate was dead.
Tony Stark, age 46, dead.
That was the plan, at least, and it might have worked, had Tony not made a huge mistake.
*
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, MY SOULMATE IS NOT AVAILABLE?”
Tony almost fell out of his chair. Nobody ever screamed so close to his office except himself, or Pepper (and Natasha, because she was Pepper’s soulmate and entitled to certain rights by proxy).
“I WANT TO SEE HIM IMMEDIATELY. I KNOW THAT HE LIVES!”
He had absolutely no idea who was the man currently shouting at his secretary, but he was going to find out pronto, because no one screamed at the jewel that was Pepper, who after all, should have resigned a long time ago but for some reason put up with him.
He strode to the door and threw it open.
Pepper stood between said door and the man who’d been shouting. While Tony appreciated her attempt to defend him, there was no need for that anymore.
“Let me deal with him, Pep.”
Him was a five-foot-eleven angel, apparently. White skin, dark hair, and the most stunning pair of green eyes Tony had ever seen.
“Anthony Stark.”
The man didn’t scream this time, and his voice was lovely, Tony couldn’t help but notice. He was also too taken by the man’s aura, or something equally ridiculous (fuck, he must be severely sleep-deprived), to care that his full name had been used.
“How can we help you?”
“Your system tells me that my soulmate is not available,” the green-eyed stranger growled, looking straight at Tony with the intensity of a million stars.
Tony didn’t know why he was so nervous. “He’s not?”
“Apparently, you’re not!”
“What- How- Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Loki Laufeyson, and I believe you already know that, at least on some level, Anthony.”
Something fierce flashed in Loki’s eyes.
Loki.
Tony didn’t even stop to think about it; he turned on his heels and ran for his office. Pepper said something he didn’t hear, and Loki (fuck, fuck, FUCK!) shouted, but Tony couldn’t stop to listen, had to get a door between them right now before-
“Stop!”
He’d almost done it, but the green-eyed man (Loki, Loki, Loki, chanted his heart) had taken a hold of it and squeezed a foot at the bottom.
Tony tried to close it anyway.
The door didn’t bulge.
“I am a god, Anthony. If I don’t wish for this door to move, it won’t move. I suggest you open it and let me in before I destroy it entirely.”
Someone gasped; probably Pepper. Tony felt his heart sank.
“I- I don’t think- Wait, what, a god?”
Mischief twinkled in those green eyes, but fury quickly erased it.
“You will not deny me my right.”
“W-What right?” Tony felt faint.
“The right,” Loki whispered, leaning forwards into the small opening left by the door, “to be with my soulmate.”
Tony wasn’t sure how it happened, but between one moment in the next, the door was closed, he was in his office, and Loki was here with him, hugging him so tightly he couldn’t breathe.
“I can’t- let me-”
Loki seemed to sense his distress, because he let him go immediately. It was Tony who placed a hand on the tall man’s shoulder to steady himself.
Or perhaps, to get closer to that source of bliss he could feel blooming in his chest, where there’d been only emptiness before.
A tear trailed down his cheek. Damn it.
“How-”
Loki cupped his cheek. Tony didn’t try to pull away.
“I’ve roamed the realms for centuries to find the one that would be mine,” Loki said in that low, soothing voice, that Tony was becoming addicted to much too quickly. “Asgard had nothing for me, and neither did Jotunheim. I didn’t think of Midgard, of your realm, until recently, and when I discovered that ingenious system you’ve built, I was relieved beyond my wildest dreams.”
“Asgard?” could only croak Tony. “Isn’t that- Oh, fuck, does that mean that-”
“Yes, I am that god, Anthony. And you are mine, no matter what that ingenious system of yours tell me. You are unavailable for everyone but me.”
Tony’s mind spun, and not only because the hand on his face warmed his skin like a woolen blanket after a long walk in the cold. The blissful sensation in his chest was making him a bit groggy, too. He found himself fisting his other hand in Loki’s black tunic (the fabric was so soft, how would the skin feel under-) and before he knew it, his knees buckled. How could he have mixed up ‘dead’ and ‘unavailable’; the code was so different, like apples and concrete different, and-
“Do not fear me,” Loki whispered.
Further tears trailed down Tony’s cheeks, and Loki kissed them all away. His lips were cold yet warm, softer than forgiveness.
“I’m not- not afraid of you.”
“What causes you such distress, then? Why have you denied yourself, us, for so long, Anthony? This ‘unavailable’ nonsense…”
“I am not a good man.”
“Because you’ve killed? Because you can’t forgive yourself for the things you have done?”
Tony squealed (but would deny it later) as Loki lifted him off the ground and pulled him to his chest. He instantly wrapped his legs around the god’s hips and held on to those strong shoulders for dear life.
“It’s- complicated.”
“Not too complicated, I am sure, that I cannot untangle it all and make you see what you need, my mortal.”
There was a ton of things that Loki kept saying that would need to be explained later on, but for now, Tony seemed unable to focus on anything else beside the joy suffusing his every cell like so many little lanterns in the darkness. He was still crying, but he was also smiling, and he could see the reflection of his joy in those green eyes. His mind felt clear in a way it hadn't felt for... yes, forever.
It was Loki who kissed him, but Tony who moved a hand to Loki’s nape to deepen the kiss. A growl rose in the god’s throat as Tony licked at the seam of his lips, and their tongues met eagerly, sliding alongside each other. All the oxygen in the room seemed to have relocated itself in Loki’s mouth so that Tony had no choice but to kiss this god, this angel, with everything he was worth. He moaned and gasped, groaned as he felt the surge of arousal on top of that tidal wave of happiness about to engulf him.
“Anthony…”
Loki’s eyes were dark with lust, and his cheeks red and absolutely gorgeous. Tony cupped Loki’s face with both hands and kissed those red lips anew, rocking his hips into the god’s as he did so, bringing their erections together.
Suddenly, Tony’s back was to the wall, and Loki pushed against him, nimble hands moving to his shirt to lift it.
“Not pretty,” Tony gasped. “Scars-”
“I want to see the scars,” Loki growled, causing Tony’s cock to swell further. “I want to worship every inch of you, my infuriating mortal, my delightful soulmate.”
Tony thought he would lose his mind as Loki sank to one knee and proceeded to make it clear that no, he didn’t mind the scars at all.
When he took Tony’s hard cock into his mouth and swallowed him down to the root on the first try, Tony was pretty sure the only thing keeping him upright were those pianist hands on his hips. He panted and moaned so loudly that he might have felt a bit ashamed had Loki not stolen his mind, and so he pulled at the god's hair and whimpered that beautiful name incessantly, Loki, Loki, oh, Loki, so good. His chest held too much warmth, too much bliss, he was going to break at the seams and combust and die-
When he could see straight once more, Loki was licking his lips, and they were both lying in Tony’s bed in the penthouse.
“What did you do?” he asked sleepily, not worried at all (and wasn’t that a strange, but welcome feeling).
Loki held one of his calloused hands and kissed each fingertip before answering.
“I gave you pleasure, and then brought you to our bed.”
Our bed.
“Ok,” Tony replied.
Perhaps his brain had melted.
Perhaps he was in heaven, because there was no way an angel such as this one would have deigned come down to Earth… or was it Midgard?
Or perhaps he’d made enough amends to have a shot at happiness.
“Sleep, Anthony. I am here now.”
Tony fell asleep in the sanctity of his soulmate’s arms.