Here is my contribution, not much else to say expect that it’s very hard to write Loki/Fury and not have it come off completely creepy, that is all.
It haunted him, or at least he was certain that it would, even if not, the repercussions from what he would only refer to as ‘that damn locker room incident’, would serve as an unwelcome reminder.
It was the end of a 36 hour shift from hell, all he had wanted was to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes before starting on the multitudes of different paperwork associated with stopping the current supervillain of the week. It was supposed to be quick, it was supposed to be simple but such things never are in the life of S.H.I.E.L.D commander Nick Fury.
The warmth of the water surrounded him as it beat against the hardened muscles of his back. He closed his eye and relaxed against it, his hands trailing slowly down as his tension slipped away, he did not expect the sudden low whistle nor the voice that accompanied it.
“That’s quite the show, Commander.”
Instantly alert, he jumped forward, eye searching for the source of the voice and his hand reaching for the nearby alarm.
“I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you.” The voice spoke again, his growing amusement evident. “You would be surprised at how even the simplest of magics can affect your little devices.”
Eye still scanning the room, Fury slowly started to shift towards the locker that held his belongings.
“Why are you here, Loki?”
The only sounds were rush of the still running water and faint laughter, echoing strangely throughout the room. He glanced around again, before opening the locker and reaching for his gun inside.
“I’ll only ask you one more time, why, the fuck, are you here, Loki?”
“You are remarkably calm for one so, exposed.” Voice lingering on the final word, he flickered becoming visible, Fury swore.
“Or perhaps not, even still, I find that I am forced to re-evaluate my opinion of you mortal.” Emerald eyes trailing slowly down the other man’s body. “Particularly without the eye patch.”
Fury just stared, not quite comprehending, the gun forgotten in his hand as the other man drew forward, fingers slowly caressing his face, as again he spoke.
“Perhaps I could offer you another form of relaxation?”
Comprehension dawned, but before he could respond, the gun was on the ground, his hands pinned above his head, and the other’s lips were on his with bruising, demanding force. But as quickly as it began it was over, the god pulling away with a smirk and in his hand a file that had formerly been amongst Fury’s belongings.
“Thank-you for this,” he smiled waving the file slightly, “perhaps we can continue another time.”
Then he was gone, Fury swore and swore again, how in the hell was he supposed to report this.