Work Text:
Mobius felt his face heat up. The leather armour Loki was wearing today was vastly different from the kind he usually wore. Mobius's finger had been hovering over the fast-forward button but this boring reel had just become extremely exciting in a way that had Mobius feeling a degree of shame, reminding him he was nothing more than a voyeur.
Being an analyst was usually a mundane job that involved scouring uninteresting footage of the lives of sentient beings just to be able to file a psychoanalysis report that may or may not prove useful in helping the TVA do its job. But ever since Mobius had been assigned the task of studying Loki, things had changed drastically. It had him feeling things, familiar sensations he'd felt before, but of a different magnitude. And the magnitude of those feelings had never been higher than they were now.
What was different about Loki's outfit was that the top half was shorter than usual, and Loki's pants were very tight. The fabric moved whenever the muscles of his thighs tensed. As he walked down the corridor that led into the Grandmasters’ party hall, Mobius noticed the god wasn't wearing any underwear. It was the most Mobius had ever seen of the god's nether region. The reel technology had been designed to only capture moments of a being’s life that were necessary to avoid deviation from the sacred timeline, and in Loki's case such moments had never involved nudity. A buzzing heat caressed Mobius's inner thighs as he considered that maybe this time he'd finally get to see.
The Grandmasters' orgy lasted for hours, creatures of different shapes, sizes, and colours mating in a thousand different ways that Mobius had become thoroughly desensitised to. Loki's pants stayed on. The Grandmaster had ordered him to only tempt. The old tyrant had no interest in Loki but enjoyed flaunting the attractive god as his bed-partner.
Mobius watched, enraptured as Loki seduced and abandoned one attendee after another. His targets were the human and human-adjacent ones that stared at the length of his cock as it moved freely in his pants. He was sitting opposite a man now, perched on the edge of a bar stool, a hand splayed on the target’s thigh.
“I take it everything is to your liking?” asked Loki. Part of his duty was to ensure the attendees were satisfied with the services provided.
“The Grandmaster’s offerings tonight are the best I've seen in a long time,” answered the target whom Mobius didn’t look at even once. “But I see he keeps the finer goods for himself.”
Loki smirked devilishly, his fingers lightly scratching back and forth on the man's thigh.
“Flattery won't get you anywhere with me. As you've said, I am the Grandmaster's property,” replied Loki.
The god watched the man's eyes closely, looking for the signs of envy that would prove he'd succeeded at his task.
“It was only a compliment,” replied the man. “I would never dream of crossing the Grandmaster.”
“Of course.” Loki withdrew his hand to run it through his hair. “Is there anything else? Have you been refused?”
“Not at all,” came the reply.
Loki relaxed at this, imperceptible to the untrained eye. Too many times had attendees lied about being refused just to get a slave punished. Loki hated these orgies. He was nothing more than a pawn here, powerless.
His work done, Loki excused himself and slipped away. The Grandmaster hadn't called for him yet and Mobius figured he was eager to have some time for himself. Loki stalked down a winding corridor until he arrived at a narrow steel door.
Behind the door was a storage closet full of tools and spare parts.
What's he doing in there? Mobius wondered.
The cramped space was illuminated by a motion-activated bulb. The warm overhead light accentuated the god's sharp jawline and cheekbones. He was so beautiful.
“Damn those cocktails,” the god grumbled under his breath. Mobius gasped, realizing the cocktails had undoubtedly been laced with strong aphrodisiacs and Loki had had quite a few.
Loki leant back against the bare wall adjacent to the door. He passed a hand over his chest, down his abdomen, and let it come to rest on his rapidly hardening cock.
Mobius paused the reel.
He looked down at his own crotch, which had been half-hard for quite some time already. Why was he being tortured like this? How was Loki touching himself important to the Sacred Timeline? Some part of his brain supplied that maybe it wasn't about what he was doing but about what he could've been doing instead. Maybe if he'd been anywhere else, things would've played out differently. The butterfly effect was too complex a phenomenon for anyone other than the Timekeepers to ponder.
But now he had to watch this. There was of course the option of fast-forwarding but Mobius’ self-control was nowhere to be found. He'd never been this hard before and he wanted to know what an orgasm felt like.
So he hit play.
Loki cupped himself through the fabric of his pants. “Please,” he whimpered. Mobius inhaled sharply, gripping his thighs to ground himself, then losing the battle against his base desires and grazing his fingers against the front of his pants, eyes glued to the screen.
Loki hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, arching off the wall he was leaning against. And then, he was lowering his pants. He lifted the fabric, moving it carefully past his hips. The bare skin of his ass glowed in the dim light and his long, thick cock bobbed free.
Mobius paused again, saliva collecting in his mouth. He wanted so much to wrap his lips around that length and give Loki whatever he wanted. He'd never had a thought like that before. In the past he'd only ever been either indifferent to or disgusted by watching creatures mate, perhaps because he'd only ever seen non-human creatures, or humans of opposite sexes mate. And now he was about to watch the most attractive being he'd ever seen touch himself.
Realising he was doomed, Mobius made the effort to go and lock the door of the time theatre. If he was going to get caught, he at least wanted to keep his dignity.
Sitting back down before the hologram of Loki with his cock out was exhilarating. His blood felt like fire, his head swimming with the thrill of doing something so wrong. The urgency he felt made his hands tremble and he missed the play button several times before he hit it.
Loki took himself in hand, stroking the underside of his length and cupping his balls. Throwing caution to the wind, Mobius lowered his own pants down to his knees to imitate the god. An embarrassing moan escaped him as he touched the sensitive skin, feeling already so close to something monumental, a feeling bound to be so intense his body wouldn't be able to contain it. It was terrifying.
But he followed Loki's lead. The god's thumb was brushing at the head of his cock now. His head was thrown back, teeth gritted to keep his moans from escaping. He always looked beautiful, but like this, he was exquisite. Mobius’ mind filled with filthy imagery of all the things he wanted to do to the god–all the sounds and faces he could get him to make. He was so close.
His perception narrowed till all he could feel was the mounting pressure and heat in his hips, his vision tunneling, zeroed-in on that flushed, fully erect cock and the elegant hand that stroked it with such fervent urgency. Then Loki came with a stifled grunt, spilling all over the floor. The last thing Mobius saw was Loki’s euphoric face before his own vision went white, sparks lighting up his periphery, and then he was coming too. Waves of thunderous, electrifying pleasure rolled through his body, cresting and falling with each thrust of his hips. Somewhere in the background of his mind he made note that orgasams are the best feeling in the world.
When he finally began to come down from his high, he blinked up at the hologram in awe. Loki had already straightened out his clothes and was wiping his hands on a rag he found on a shelf. He was still panting, his face still flushed, and his hair was damp with sweat. Mobius burned the image in his mind, filing it away with so many others. He doubted he’d ever be able to sleep again now that he knew what he could be doing instead.
A buzzing excitement still lingered in his lower belly. He was battling the urge to rewind the clip and do it all over again when a different kind of buzzing snapped him out of his daze. It was his tempad. He was fifteen minutes late for archive duty.
With a sigh, Mobius glanced down at the mess he'd made, realising with a jolt that he needed to work quickly to clean it up. It was nasty work, wiping away his spend with a handkerchief, but he managed to do a good enough job before racing for the archives.
For the rest of that day cycle, and for the rest of his life, Mobius remained hopelessly unable to stop thinking about Loki.