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Loki has the sharp end of their dagger to Mobius’s throat. Standing over Mobius as he sits on a metal chair before them, all Loki has to do is press down and slice.
Mobius watches them with curious bright eyes, smiling like he isn’t about to die, like Loki made a joke rather than a threat on his life.
“This blade is sharp,” Loki says, to remind him of the danger.
“I’m sure it is.” His level voice both unnerves and infuriates Loki.
They pull back the blade enough to catch light off the shining metal. “I’m going to kill you with it.”
Humming, Mobius gives the dagger only a passing, dismissive glance before returning his steady gaze to Loki. “That, I’m not so sure about.”
“You doubt my resolve.” Loki returns the blade to Mobius’s neck, right under his jawline, forcing Mobius to raise his chin. They intend to intimidate and strike fear. Instead, Mobius’s eyes turn hooded and his smile sharpens into a weapon of its own.
Suddenly Loki’s position doesn’t feel as threatening. They may be towering over Mobius, but to do so, they are practically in Mobius’s lap, with Mobius’s legs stretched out between theirs. Mobius’s hands are at his own waist, so very near Loki’s… everything.
“I don’t doubt your resolve,” Mobius says. “I know you can and will do anything you want to.”
He shrugs, and Loki quickly withdraws the blade enough not to accidentally cut him. Frowning, they return the dagger where it was.
“What I doubt,” Mobius continues, “is what you want.”
“I want to kill you,” Loki tells him, themself.
“Oh, yeah?” Mobius begins to lean forward.
Panicked, Loki draws the dagger back. When Mobius’s smile softens, Loki remembers murder, fire igniting in their veins, and places that blade right back to Mobius’s throat.
No, not enough.
To prove their point, they press further.
Mobius’s winces as a bead of blood collects at the edge.
A soft growl emerges, unbidden, from the back of Loki’s throat. They force their hand to still when every nerve demands they retreat - not hurt Mobius.
Mobius drops his head back, pulling away. The blood trails down the side of his neck, pooling at his collar, staining. It’s only a bit of blood, barely a nick of a cut, but it makes something churn unpleasantly in the pit of Loki’s gut.
They did that to Mobius. And they hate it.
Revulsion burns hot, and Loki casts the dagger aside. It clatters against the tile and collects against the wall. Drops of Mobius’s blood splatter the floor. Loki hates it so much.
“I hate you,” Loki says, anger swelling. They mean it toward themself, toward their silly thought of wanting to hurt Mobius, but it feels safer toward Mobius instead, whose lazy smile returns so easily, whose forgiveness shines in his eyes without Loki having need ask for it.
“Yeah, I know,” Mobius says.
“I should kill you.” Loki rubs his fingers along the cut, wiping away the blood trail to look closer at the wound. It’s shallow and shouldn’t take long to heal.
“Probably.” Mobius leans into Loki’s hand on his neck until it’s pressed flat, with Loki’s thumb atop the curve of his chin, the tip a whisper against the corner of his mouth.
For months they have worked together, chasing variants for the TVA, building trust. Loki had thought it one-sided, all a ploy to coax Mobius to trust them so they could betray him but…
Now that they have earned that trust. Now that they are ready to betray.
Hate is so near to love, Loki wonders if they never truly knew the difference.
“Loki,” Mobius says, smile dimming from his lips but not his eyes, which sparkle under the miserable florescent lights. At a snails’ pace, he lifts his hands and places them on Loki’s hips, forefingers curling along the top edge of Loki’s belt.
Even slower, Loki lowers themself down, inch by inch until they are seated fully on Mobius’s lap.
“Tell me,” Mobius licks his lips, “what you want.”
Loki studies those lips, the tip of that tongue, first with their gaze, but soon after with their own lips, their own tongue, as they crash their mouth to Mobius’s. Mobius’s hands wrap around them, pressing firmly to Loki’s back, bringing them closer. Loki combs one hand through Mobius’s hair, but keeps the other firmly on Mobius’s neck, holding down on the wound they caused, the one they regret.
Mobius must sense it - Loki can’t keep secrets from him - because he brings his hand to Loki’s in a gentle caress.
Overwhelmed, Loki breaks the kiss. Eyes clamped shut, they press their forehead to Mobius’s. “I would kill anyone who hurts you.”
“I know you would,” Mobius says, a smile in his voice. That smile vanishes though, and his hold on Loki tightens, as he adds, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you either.”
Loki leans back enough to see the determination darken Mobius’s expression, replacing the usual calm. Loki’s heart pounds in their chest so loudly, they are certain Mobius must be able to hear it.
“I’m not good at this sort of thing,” Loki says.
Mobius blinks and the darkness is gone, replaced by warm affection and endless, steady patience. “You don’t have to be.” His smile returns. “You just have to tell me what you want.”
“You already know.”
“Maybe.” Mobius rubs his fingers along the length of Loki’s spine, and Loki exhales, relaxing. “Maybe I’d like to hear you say it.”
Loki exhales sharper. “Are you always this demanding?”
Mobius leans forward, lips lightly brushing over Loki’s as he speaks, “Tell me you don’t like it.”
Loki thinks to lie but won’t, not if it would put a stop to this - whatever this is.
Mobius laughs, and Loki silences him with their mouth. Kiss after insistent kiss, Loki makes demands of their own, ones that Mobius reciprocates eagerly - in a way Loki’s not sure they’ve ever experienced before. Or maybe their heart is just all tangled up this time.
“I want you, Mobius,” Loki says, though they’re not entirely sure all that entails. But it’s the truth in all the ways they can think of.
“Okay,” Mobius says, and he’s breathless now too. Pride surges in Loki, more than they ever felt holding the dagger. They did this. They made Mobius lose his calm.
Confidence soars, bringing forth Loki’s own smirk. “Now tell me what you want, Mobius M. Mobius.” They lean back and let Mobius chase their mouth this time.
“Oh, you definitely know,” Mobius says, staring at Loki’s mouth.
“Perhaps I want to hear you say it,” Loki says.
Mobius licks his kiss-red lips again. “I want you, Loki. I want you to kiss me, hold me, love me, whatever - for as long as you want. Until you get tired of me.”
The words knock the breath from Loki, and they sit for a long moment, watching Mobius, ready for him to rescind such an offer. But Mobius only stares back at them, hope and promise in the soft curve of his lips, the firm hold of his hands.
“I’m known for being insatiable,” Loki says when they trust their voice again. It’s quieter than they mean it to be. “What if I never tire of you…”
Mobius swallows hard. Loki can feel the muscles move under their hand.
“I stand by what I said,” Mobius says, and Loki, impossibly, finds that they believe him.
“I almost killed you,” Loki says, voice a whisper now. It’s a reason Mobius shouldn’t trust them, even though Loki wants him to anyway.
Mobius shakes his head, and Loki’s worries disappear. “You weren’t even close.”