Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

Warnings: RAPE. SELF HATE.

Summary: Actual prompt: Avengerkink

OK, this may be a tad complicated, but I'm gonna try anyway.

Somehow at some point BOTH Loki and Thor get captured by somebody even bigger and badder than they are. And this person totally plans to rape Thor for funsies. They reveal this while chatting with Loki (seperate cell I'm thinking), maybe even thinking Loki will find it funny or something since he totally HATES his (not) brother, right?

But here's the twist. Loki...really doesn't want it to happen. Even tho he's still angry as hell, he just can't bear the thought of Thor being broken like that.

So he gets them to take him instead. And it takes some doing. He uses every trick he knows, every manipulation and knowledge of their twisted psyche to get them to rape HIM. And after, when the escape or are rescued or whatever, he can't handle it. He doesn't understand why he did that for someone he suposedly hates. After losing his family and home, his hate was all he had left, and now he's just...nothing.

And then some wonderful h/c occurs, please. I realize this is annoyingly long and epic and twisted already, but seriously, I will give you all I have for this.

Lost

If the darkness of the cell had been intended to intimidate him, Loki reflected, it had failed abysmally. For one thing, he was not blind. One of the many advantages of being a powerful sorcerer was that one could alter such inconvenient things as requiring light to see.

For another, it was actually quite spacious in here. Well, compared to that one time he'd spent three months as a falcon locked in a tiny box without food, anyway.

And so it was with a positively genial smile that he welcomed his captor when the door finally creaked sinisterly open. He'd opted for reclining gracefully on the hard bench of his cell. It was a choice between that or the slimy floor—his chains simply didn't stretch far enough for anything else—and really, compared to the Chitauri... well the bench was positively welcoming.

"Greetings," he said, pleasantly.

He raked the arrival from his white-topped head to his booted toes. And then his eyes narrowed in recognition.

"Malekith."

"Loki," the dark elf sneered.

This... changed things. Malekith was the sort of amoral person he'd have sought out for plans of world domination in happier times. But stuck here...

What do you want?

"I must say, it's a surprise to see you interfering in Midgardian affairs."

"Once the Aesir were involved the realm became fair game," Malekith waved a dismissive hand.

True.

"But so devoid of interest, what with the tesseract gone."

"You manage to entertain yourself easily enough."

"There is such potential for chaos in disrupting the mortal's dreary lives," he excused himself with a faint smile.

It faded as the dark elf took one step closer and ghosted a hand over his throat. Quite grotesque really. A parody of a caress. He neither flinched nor drew away.

"You wanted me for that? You could have just invited me, you know," he laughed.

Malekith's face twisted suddenly and this time Loki did gasp as the grey fist connected with his face.

"Disgusting."

He laughed.

And then the dark elf was gone.

What do you want?

OoOoOoOoO

The dark elf visited, as far as he could determine, once or twice a week. Ironically, they were not entirely unpleasant.

It was nice to be able to deny someone the pleasure of breaking him, even if that was only because he was so shattered already one more heaping of humiliation hardly made a difference. He wondered, idly, if Thor were looking for him—but why would he? At best they were enemies, no matter what his not-brother seemed to think.

Thor had never looked for him before.

Eventually, the visits became less an effort to see what would make him snap and more a rambling rant about incompetent minions. About successful plots. About potential plots. He didn't know quite when he deduced that he'd been captured as revenge for slaying Algrim all those years ago but it didn't particularly bother him. He'd killed lots of people.

And he was close, so close, to escaping. To persuading the dark elf he'd make a better ally without his magic bound and with a decent meal. It wasn't even a complete lie.

He estimated he'd been here a month.

Then, everything changed.

OoOoOoOoO

"I have captured your idiotic dolt of a brother," Malekith laughed.

His chains were longer now, and he had a chair to sit on now. He was grateful. It helped to disguise his involuntary stiffening.

"Thor?"

"Who else?"

Who else indeed.

He smiled, suddenly, because he hated Thor and this was good. It was time for his oafish brute of a not-brother to see how it felt to be powerless. Helpless. Alone.

"Your powers are great indeed, to bind Mjolnir," he said, not quite questioning.

"Indeed, Loki. But in truth that was not necessary. All I had to do was threaten to torture you in all the most intimate ways possible and he came," and the dark elf laughed cruelly, "He came. Ironic really. He is chained now, of course, just as you are. I find I enjoy your company too much to break you in that way. But him... it is exhilarating, having such power over the mighty Odinson."

Loki forced himself to laugh as well because it was funny. It was hilarious. So why did his chest insist on aching?

"And he I will break. It will be one of the greatest pleasures I have ever taken."

And suddenly he knew exactly how Malekith wanted to break Thor. Remembered the lingering caresses. Argr. Nothing. He would make Thor nothing.

Why wasn't he happy?

"I agree breaking Thor would be... entertaining. But are you sure it will be conducive to your goal of conquering Asgard? He was ever the Allfather's favourite."

"Oh yes. Think of how they will fear us if we can break their hero."

Not us. Not us.

"True. If it will break him."

But it will. To use such an act for so twisted a goal will cheapen him. It is silver, not gold, that tarnishes.

"Well, if it does not I will give him credit for unparalleled strength. Either way, it will be pleasurable. Such control always is."

Do not vomit. It is good if Thor suffers.

"True. But... have you not already shown that his concern lies not with himself? Would he not hurt... more, if it were not he who suffered?"

And Loki tried not to think about what it was he was doing as he forced himself to lean forward suggestively. To deliberately make himself... vulnerable.

"I know for a fact you do not think of me in that light," Malekith objected, narrowing red eyes shrewdly, "Besides, you're tolerably interesting company for someone who killed my best lieutenant eight hundred odd years ago. I'm hardly going to rape you when I can break your brother just as easily without doing so."

He hated Thor and he hated Malekith and most of all he hated himself as he said:

"I want my brother broken. And I know, now, this is the best way to achieve that goal. I... I want him to suffer knowing that he was unable to protect me—that his actions, his efforts were for nothing. Since he cares so much, let him know what it is to be useless. Powerless."

Then, when the dark elf is silent, he added:

"I know you desire me. Do not make me beg for this."

Finally, finally, it was enough.

OoOoOoOoO

The dark elf was not gentle. Loki did not expect him to be.

He did whisper "so beautiful" after he'd ripped off the grimy tunic and pants.

Loki suspected that this was being recorded somewhere and it made everything that much more painful. He screamed, once, then again and again with each thrust until his throat was raw and he could not produce any noise at all.

He couldn't seem to stop the tears when he found his own body being stroked and responding to the abuse.

Disgusting. Worthless. Nothing.

Why could he not laugh as this was done to Thor?

But he did not ask for this to stop. Because, deep down, he was terrified the dark elf would.

He didn't have the strength to rise, to dress himself, as Malekith left. He flinched as something soft was draped over him lightly. A cloak. Purple. He stared at the wall for a long time that night, feeling only soreness and the empty pain of nothing.

How many more times? How much more must I give?

No more times, it transpired. He didn't know when he drifted off, but he woke to the alarm systems peeping and he heard crashing and explosions... it seemed Thor's little band of misfits had arrived to help him.

He wanted to crawl into a corner. But Thor would look for him. Of course Thor would. So he moved himself inch by screaming inch and pulled on his discarded clothes. The cloak he used to wipe himself off and then folded underneath the bench.

And then he wrapped his arms about his middle and waited.

And waited.

Until the door was shattered by Mjolnir.

"Brother," he heard, and he managed to meet Thor's gaze briefly before dropping his eyes back to the ground.

"I'm not your brother," he whispered.

The horrified pity and love in those eyes were damning. Thor knew. He knew Thor knew but somehow seeing it was worse.

He would run, but the chains don't let him.

Words were all he had now, and he found himself struggling to use them.

All this time, his hatred for his not-family, his not-brother, his not-home was... everything. Without the hatred, what was he? What was the point of anything if he could not even bring himself to torture Thor because he was chained emotionally as effectively as Malekith had chained him physically.

"I'm not," he repeated.

And then Thor shattered his chains. His magic was rushing and pouring and pouring in and all he could do was scream. He could lash out at Thor. Run. He could burn Stark for saying "You sure that was such a good idea buddy?" and Rogers for saying "Is he alright?"

He could burn Thor for not letting him stop caring.

But ultimately, why bother? There was just nothing now.

Strong arms encircled him and they would not give way.

"I am sorry brother. I am sorry."

Thor was crying. Thor shouldn't be crying. Thor should be spared this at least.

"I don't want you to cry," he blurted out, "I... Thor stop crying."

He won't and he didn't.

"Thor," his voice hardened. He needed strength. He couldn't afford to break down here.

He summoned a dagger and rammed it into Thor's side.

The arms released him.

"I liked that. I enjoyed it. And I enjoyed watching your idiotic self be lured into a trap by my allies because you were too pathetic to see it was a lie. You are not my brother!"

And Thor wasn't stepping backwards but that was fine. He gathered his magic to leave, only Thor was taking him by the shoulders and shaking him.

"Brother do not lie! Your 'ally' showed me how you took my place. Do not tell me you wanted it."

Loki found himself at a loss for words. Thor wasn't supposed to know that. No one was. Malekith was supposed to show the act itself, not it's precurser.

"Why, brother?"

"I..." he shook his head miserably.

"Why?"

"... because I didn't want you to become me," he whispered, staring at the ground again.

"Brother," Thor said, choked.

And then the massive arms were encircling him again.

And for the first time in years he leaned into the touch and allowed himself to be held.