Loki did not like red on Stark's skin.

When it adorned his body, an armor, which Loki had caressed reverently many times, there was something majestic about it; like the color of a warrior unafraid of anything; like the color of a king. In a battle, the crimson and gold whipping past you, smashing enemies many times its size, annihilating them, was awe inspiring. Beautiful, like a blooming first rose of the season, and mesmerizing, like the sun dipping over the horizon.

It was a striking color and it belonged on the striking human being Loki was in love with.

Right now though, looking at it marring his beloved's skin, trickling down his split lip, oozing out of the scrape on his left cheek, tainting his skin, it turned Loki's stomach.

Oh how he would've loved to rip off the hand that landed on Stark's jaw, uncalled for and unexpected, complete with the knuckle rings. Remembering the crunch of the delicate finger bones breaking under his grip gave him a fierce pleasure: he had just been making sure that the pitiful thug never attacked another person ever again. Nothing would've given him more joy than breaking that man's neck, and that of his two underlings; only Stark's quiet voice had made him stop.

He gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on Stark's jaw which he was holding, as he maneuvered him to examine the damage, every second making him regret leaving those guys alive.

They had been coming back from the bar, after a lovely evening, slightly tipsy and surprisingly happy. A rare day off of the Avenger's business of saving the city. It was only natural that they had to stumble across a scared girl, back against the wall, caged in by three large goons. They all knew where it would lead to, and Loki should've known Stark was foolish enough to intervene.

Loki had been exasperated, so he had just crossed his arms and let Stark deal with them and satisfy his moral code. Stark was more than just capable of taking care of three men. They were either stupider than they looked or too drunk to realize who they were up against. He had been fairly sure that the billionaire would manage to diffuse the situation with just his words- he was good at that.

The punch had come out of nowhere. Neither of them had saw it coming. Before Stark had even managed to recover though, all three of them were on the ground, crying out: Loki had reacted without thinking, his vision whiting out with fury.

"Hey." Stark's placed a hand on his- where it was lying against his cheek, making him realize he had blanked out for a while. "It's just a graze Loki."

He ignored the obvious lie, and clenched the hand not on Stark's jaw so hard that he could feel his nails digging into the flesh. There will be four little crescent shaped wounds there for a couple of hours.

"Hey. Loki." Stark insisted, the reckless idiot who didn't realize how fragile he was. How mortal. "Look at me." He moved his hand to Loki's face he turned his face, and Loki was unable to resist the gentle push of it.

Their eyes met, and for a moment the God was startled to see concern in the human's eyes. Concern? Was he more hurt than he let on?

Oh.

Stupid. Stupid.

He was in love with an utter fool. A complete nutcase who was sitting on a table, with Loki between his legs, his cheek swelling and bruising, his lip bleeding nonstop and he worried about Loki!

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cackle like a mad man, derisively and unhinged. There were also tears stinging at the back his eyes.

"A jolt that hard could've made small veins in your brain bleed." Loki started listing, because he couldn't stop recounting all the things that could've gone wrong in his head. "That would take a few days to prove fatal, but it would. Alternately, a larger vessel could burst with this same force, and death would be much quicker."

He had to pause to stop his voice from breaking. He looked away from where he was looking into Stark's eyes, feeling raw, "your brain could hit the skull walls and swell up. The bone of your jaw could break and send a globule of fat into your brain causing stroke. Your neck could snap… your brain could herniate from its place… your eye could be damaged, your ear…"

He abruptly shut up when he felt Stark's forehead rest on his chest. He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes, different scenarios of the only man he had ever loved dying in front of him, and him being helpless to stop it, running in his mind. Torturing him.

A long held breath escaped him. It almost sounded like a sob.

"Loki." Stark whispered, almost like a prayer.

The god looked down at his chest, where a mop of black hair was, and felt the breath of his lover warming his skin beneath the layer of clothing. A knot eased in his heart, the air no longer feeling thin.

"Humans are so fragile." Loki wished it has sounded more patronizing then terrified when he said that. But he couldn't help it. Fear had entrenched its sharp claws in his heart unbeknownst to him and only now was he realizing how much it hurt; how much it bled.

Nobody said a word for a while, Loki taking comfort in the beating heart he could faintly hear, the warm air steadily blowing against where his own was throbbing.

"I can't lose you." He admitted, without meaning to. Words seemed to have become a conscious entity by themselves, using Loki's lips as a medium to come out, to materialize and take life.

Stark jerked back, and caught Loki's gaze before he could pull his shield's up. He was sure there was a whole world of love, and vulnerability visible in them, but he felt too drained to even feel ashamed of it. Stark had to know how much he meant to him.

"You won't." The mortal assured vehemently. Loki tried to dredge up a smile at that, but by the look on Stark's face, he failed miserably.

"Everything I love always seems to be taken from me." Loki cradled his beloved's jaw in his hand, caressing the bruise blooming on it, "I have come to accept it." He sighed dejectedly, but then looked straight in Stark's eyes with conviction.

"Not you though. I won't let anyone take you." He swore; anything but that. Ripping his heart out would hurt less, would be more acceptable than someone taking away the man who grounded him.

"I know." The infuriating man smiled, then his eyes became apologetic, and he said. "I am sorry."

The dying embers of the anger in the Norse god's heart reignited all of a sudden, the licks of the flame converting into a different kind of fire and he suddenly wanted nothing more than make the mortal man burn with him, get consumed by the same inferno he was burning in Loki's heart.

Stark's lip was split, and it was most definitely going to be painful. Fuck that. He had seen the man laugh with cracked ribs, and go into a firefight still recovering from massive injuries. This was nothing.

Loki gave in to the desire before he self-combusted because of it, and clashed his lips with Stark's- obviously startling the man. There was a barely there wince, and then Stark responded to his kiss with the same intensity, and instead of soothing the blazing fire, he increased it by feeding it sparks from his own, and Loki felt like he would incinerate on spot.

What a glorious way to go it would be.

Loki couldn't breathe- didn't want to breathe- if taking a lungful of air meant disentangling from the genius's lips. Drinking in Stark's gasps and moans, his scent, his taste was just as necessary to live as oxygen was- maybe more. His lungs were screaming, but his heart was singing, and he could not decide which vital part he should listen to more-Stark made the decision for him, pulling back with a gasp, and panting.

The bare few inches between them made Loki's insides clench in distress, and he could not bear it, so he started kissing down Tony's jaw, sucking hard, biting; creating a line of bruises down his neck to his shoulder. Thinking of the blue marring the face of his beloved made him take a piece of skin between his teeth and pull on it harshly, making sure there would be a mark, a contrast- something he could look at and not want to commit murder.

Damn.

So that's what he was doing!

The self-realization took him by surprise. Being territorial was not a new thing to him but he hadn't felt it this strongly before. Typical Stark: he managed to bring out emotions in the god he had buried a long time ago. Still- he thought while lapping at a unblemished piece of skin on Tony's shoulder- if the fool enjoyed hurting himself so much, if he didn't mind bruises littering his body and blood trickling down his skin, then Loki took it as permission to create some of his own.

With that thought Loki bit down, mercilessly this time, unconcerned about how much stronger he was. He felt out of control, unmoored. The love and terror, the sheer intensity of emotions playing havoc in his mind made him feel like a ship in a storm, and the skin under his teeth felt like the only thing anchoring him to reality. So he held on tight.

The taste of metal on his tongue brought his faded consciousness back into focus, and the gasp that was not all pleasure made him unclasp his teeth, pulling away slowly. He realized Stark had his fingers in his hair, caressing his head slowly, calming him down, and he reacted to it unconsciously.

Pulling back, he took a step away from the table, and glanced at the man who was both the blizzard that took him unguarded, and the very tether securing him to the ground. Stark realized he wanted to look- the man knew him too well- and smilingly, leaned back and let him.

Loki couldn't help but stare.

Stark's lip was bleeding again, but the rest of his mouth looked even worse, swollen and red- delicious. Loki couldn't stop the curl of satisfaction in his heart, and barely resisted the urge kiss that mouth one more time. There was an almost continuous line of love bites going down Tony's jaw, to his shoulder, where his shirt was half torn to expose most of his torso- Loki couldn't even really remember doing that. On the middle of his shoulder though, was the most obvious damage- tiny beads of blood glistening in a teeth shaped pattern- beautiful.

Loki's eyes hungrily took in the picture Stark made- panting and flushed, pink tinging all of his skin in arousal, running up his chest and neck to his face, littered with red marks he had made. All of sudden he was overwhelmed with the desire to consume the man, devour him, make him a part of himself so that maybe, maybe then the ache in his chest would stop being so painful, and the longing in his heart be soothed.

Oh well,

Maybe Loki did like red on Stark's skin.

A/N: I am trying out different ways of writing, different ways to use words and create interesting sentences and stuff. So this took A LOT of effort. I feel like its too wordy? but I had fun writing it and I am kinda proud of it too. Please let me know what you guys think :D.

Also Loki is my heart but writing his POV is a pain omg. He thinks so complex.