I'm helplessly addicted to this pairing. This is an attempt at channeling that addiction into a story. I hope it's decent. Sorry it's so short; I didn't want to go into crazy detail during the dream. I hope to continue it in more depth once they're in the same room again. Reviews are love!

4:16 AM.

Tony Stark was face-down in his king-sized bed, the expensive sheets coiling almost snake-like around his legs. A half-empty scotch bottle was on the nightstand, the light from the window making the glass sparkle. Beautiful alcoholism.

Loki stood at the doorway to Tony's workshop, his lips curving into a slight smirk, piercing eyes following the back of the billionare's head as he worked. "I thought I'd find you here."

After much tossing and turning, he was finally able to drift off to sleep. His breathing was deep, but it was not peaceful.

"Well, hello again. If I'd known you were planning on appearing in my home, I would have cleaned up a bit."

Silence. Christ, those eyes.

Tony returned the smirk. "Are you here to kill me? Or did you just miss me too much?"

Fingers digging into his pillow. Eyes squeezing even tighter.

The trickster was upon him in moments. His lips grazed Tony's ear, "I would never admit to such a thing." The icy breath sent a chill down Tony's spine like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly there were strong hands around his waist, pulling him tightly aginst Loki's slender frame. His breath hitched, trying to fight the conflicting emotions that were surging through his mind.

This was bad. Right? Really, really bad. Fooling around with the enemy-in his own workshop-Loki, of all people-but oh jesus, that icy tongue was tracing his jawline, teeth were closing around his earlobe, and he was needy, selfish and terribly interested in the inner workings of this madman.

Fuck. To hell with the rules.

Tony rolled onto his side, clutching the pillow tightly against him. His breathing was faster now- still deep, still longing.

"Well, now you've hurt my feelings." He slid a hand up the back of Loki's neck, burying his fingers in his black hair and holding his head in place. "I certainly missed... this." He lightly traced the trickster's bottom lip with his tongue. Loki exhaled; a faint whine escaping his lips as Tony tugged harder on his hair. The control was intoxicating.

"So cold," Tony murmured; his voice low, restrained. It was too much for Loki to resist. He shoved Tony foward, pressing his wrists against the table behind them, capturing his warm mouth, sucking roughly on his bottom lip.

The genius was now curled up tightly around his pillow. The sleepy moan he emitted was stifled against the fabric, and he buried his face further into its warmth. Again he turned, twisting the sheets further around himself in the process. He could almost feel the chill of Loki's skin, and he shivered, only half-asleep now, fighting to return to his dream, struggling to continue to lose himself in the oddly intoxicating memory.

There was only blackness, the sound of still air. It was no use.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his now sweaty hair. "Jarvis, give me some dim lights."

God damnit, Tony. What is wrong with you?

He exhaled. This was not good. Ever since the workshop, ever since he'd-well, it was more Loki than him, honestly, though they had both enjoyed it, the raven-haired bastard-ever since whatever it was, it'd kept him awake at night, waking up hard and panting and reasonably frustrated with himself. Digging his fingernails into pale skin, the scent of leather, cologne...

Shit. He couldn't stop.

In most situations like this, Tony would take what he wanted. He was a selfish man, and preferred to think about consequences after actions. But not this time. Loki was gone. Hell, he was on another planet. Thor had said... well, he didn't want to think about it.

The scotch bottle met his lips as he took another swig, shutting his eyes, willing the same on his mind. This was not like him.

He knew, though, that despite his internal protests, there was a tiny part of him that craved these dreams and this state of mind.

That tiny part of him would not shut the fuck up.

He laid his head back on the pillow, sighing. Whatever. He would just keep existing, keep fighting the good fight, keep pouring alcohol into his body until the memories faded. There wasn't much else he could do but try not to think about it.

"Jarvis, lights off."

He turned to bury his face in his pillow once again.

"Fuck you, Loki."