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    Summary

    “I am many things, Loki Laufeyson.” A spark of defiance lit in the depths of Tony’s whiskey warm eyes. “But I am not letting you feed from my throat without some sort safe guard in place."

    “So.” He held up the heavily spelled, pure silver cuffs. “I brought these to keep you under control.”

    Loki cocked a curious, mocking eyebrow towards his mate, "Pray tell, my love. Just how do you intend to get those nasty little power dampening handcuffs on me? There aren't many supernatural creatures who would willingly leash themselves for a human."

    “I think you would willingly leash yourself, if I asked.” Tony took a step towards the bed. Another. Another until he was very nearly close enough to snatch. “So I am asking. Will you wear the handcuffs for me?”

    Loki’s eyes flickered black as the feral edges of their magic stirred at the thought of being leashed, but they nodded and lay back onto the pillows again. “You know me too well, Anthony. I would give you anything you ask. Come along, then. Cuff me, if you must.”

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