On the Subject of Thralls - an Avengers fic, wtf

[aunt_zelda]

Title: On the Subject of Thralls

Rating: R for sex, torture, and dubious canon

Word Count: 2,588 

Characters, Pairings: Thor/Tony, Steve, Bruce, hinted Natasha/Clint, mention of Natasha/OFC

Warnings: mentions of torture, allusions to rape, D/s, alcoholism, PTSD, mentions of drug use, also I’m not entirely comfortable writing some of these characters so there might be some glaring errors on my part.

Spoilers: For Iron Man. Kind of.

Summary: AU where Tony was a homeless guy living on the street, with a sign that said “Will Invent For Food.”

A/N: So, I wrote a fill for a quick prompt on comment_fic. Then the story wouldn’t leave me alone and it turned into four drabbles. Because essays due next week can wait, I’ve got Viking porn to write! The prompt kind of ran away from me, and all of the sudden I was writing smut and dream sequences and angst and I don’t even know anymore. The prompt was: Avengers, Tony + or / any, there's a homeless guy on the corner who has a motley collection of tools stuffed in an old leather pouch. He carries a sign that says, "Will Invent For Food."

There was a homeless man in the bathroom. He was half hidden underneath the cupboard underneath the sink, dragging out pipes and generally smelling to high heaven.

"Thor? Care to explain this?" Natasha asked, while Clint eyed the homeless man warily.

"I found him outside on the street. He is a good thrall. Very skilled. He fixed the beverage machine and the icebox. Tomorrow he is going to give us a 'sound system,' which he assures me is something every house must have. Why do we not have a proper sound system now? This is unacceptable."

After a long pause, Steve, who had come by to see what all the fuss was about, coughed and spoke up.

"Thor, you can't … you can't just take people off the street as thralls."

"Really? But he held a sign begging for lodging and food and listing his skills. He has no other means to support himself. He is of the lowest class in your city. What else is he but a thrall to be taken by the strongest warrior?"

"But it's slavery. That's not legal anymore. It wasn't even legal in my time!" Steve yelped.

Thor scowled. "You say there is no slavery. Yet I see it everywhere! The women on the street corners at night are forced there by dependence on drugs given to them by their masters, the young people at the centers of learning take on enormous debts in exchange for education, the people who clean the streets and boarding rooms are barely paid at all, workers in office buildings must win their freedom in order to become managers over other slaves, last week we arrested a group that held people in a windowless factory and kept their passports so they could not leave … and yet you are angry at me for providing this man with a spare room and some food so long as he fixes our machines?"

Everyone fell silent. No one was really sure how to respond to that.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm totally fine with this!" said the man under the sink, pushing himself out and sitting up, rubbing his grimy face with grimier hands. He had shoulder-length lank greasy hair and an unfortunate scraggly beard. "You can call me whatever you want, thrall, slave, Tony, whatever, I'll keep fixing your machines and inventing stuff. Just don't throw me out. Please …" his eyes were huge, and a little bloodshot, like a drunk puppy.

Natasha sighed. "Make him take a bath at least," she said before leaving. Clint gave the man a long hard look before following her.

"Guys? Does anyone know why there's a robotic arm attached to the coffeemaker now?" Bruce wandered up and stared at Tony. "Who are you?"

"Tony! Or Thrall. I'll answer to both. The robot arm is my doing. You like?" he grinned hopefully, a worried edge to his voice. "Because I can take it off if you don't, it's really simple, just give me -"

"It's brilliant!" Bruce grinned. "I don't especially care where you came from, but please tell me you're staying? We have so much to discuss!"

Thor beamed and clapped Steve on the back. "See?! I was right to take a thrall after all!"

Steve rolled his eyes. But … Bruce looked so happy, talking with Tony and shaking his head at the man's sad excuse for a toolbox and brining him to the lab to see what the man could do with "proper tools" … and anyone that made Bruce happy was someone to keep around.

"He still has to take a bath. Several, I think. And don't let him drink too much."

"You speak as if he is the first thrall I have ever taken. I know how to care for thralls, have no fear."

Steve shrugged and headed to the kitchen. The robotic arm was very impressive, handing him the coffee pot when it was ready. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Weird, yes, but then again, what wasn't weird in this household?

~*~

Tony was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven. That was the only logical explanation here. For fuck’s sake, there was a redhead walking around in a skintight leather catsuit. This had to be heaven.

It had to be heaven because he’d experienced Hell, and this wasn’t Hell. So he had to be dead. He wasn’t on the street anymore, scrounging for coins so he could buy the cheapest bottle of whiskey in the scowling Korean woman’s store at 3am and drink until the pain had faded to a dull ache and he could close his eyes at night without hearing the screams of the dying or the glinting instruments of the men who’d tortured him.

War. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the front lines, as a communications specialist he was there to repair radios and work on spy planes. Somehow he’d ended up in a jeep that had hit a bomb, and he’d woken up blinking into the bright light of a camera while hooded men cheered in Arabic or Pashtu or whatever and shot three men next to him.

They’d needed him. To fix their radios. To tell them what the Americans were assembling. To build them a test model. He’d refused at first, but they’d come with knives and electrodes and cut him and shocked him and finally dunked his head into water for what felt like days until he’d finally broken down, cried, screamed, begged for mercy they were never going to give him.

They’d pushed a piece of paper towards him, put a pencil in his shaking fingers.

“Draw, Mr. Stark. Draw us the Machine.”

His escape is a bit of a blur. He knows he managed to get into the Machine, blast his way out of that awful cave, but he hadn’t gotten far, he’d passed out in the desert and left the confines of the heavy, unstable Machine and left it to rust in the sand. He’d found a camp and passed out, not caring if they were friend or foe, too delirious to register the Red Cross symbol and the American flags.

Honorably Discharged, but as he’d never officially been on the books, no benefits, no records, no help. Too much drinking had lost him his job at the research lab, his apartment, and suddenly he’d been on the street and making a sign out of cardboard: Will Invent For Food.

A few people had taken him up on his offer, bought him burritos and burgers and even some rare salads and pasta dishes in exchange for him fixing sinks, air conditioners, flickering tvs. But it was never enough, not nearly enough, and the shelters were always full and he couldn’t take a bed when there was a teenage girl with track marks on her arms being denied one because they were out of space.

Besides, the people at the shelter thought he was crazy, talking about secret government labs and military research, a metal suit that could let a man fly and being tortured by the Taliban. He didn’t need them. What he needed was more alcohol.

Then … a huge blond guy had strode up to him, talking nonsense, but smiling broadly, and Tony felt himself hope, just a little bit. Maybe this guy was a secret serial killer, maybe this guy was going to rape him, maybe the guy just wanted him to fix a sink and would then chuck him out by nightfall, but maybe, just maybe, this guy was being honest.

So yeah, this had to be heaven. Tony was clean for the first time in what felt like years, he had on good warm clothes and his hair wasn’t stringy and long anymore and his beard was clipped to a nice short fuzz. He had delicious food whenever he wanted it, and sometimes, when Thor let him, he got to drink some good quality booze.

And the nightmares … well, they won’t be going away any time soon, but they were happening less and less. He knew it was probably the “less booze, more prescription drugs” approach Bruce had been helping him with, not to mention being able to go to sleep without worrying about some junkie stabbing him for his shoes or the government coming abduct him in the night because he knew about the Machine.

If it wasn’t heaven, then it was probably some kind of fever dream and he was about to wake up in the hospital and be told that he’d been found passed out in the subway and there were drugs in his system. And Tony’s pretty sure he couldn’t handle that, not after all he’d been through.

~*~

Tony had been living with them for three weeks before Thor brought him into his bed. Tony very much appreciated that Thor hadn’t come into Tony’s room, barged in and taken him roughly, shattered the safe place Tony had been constructing inside those four sturdy walls. Instead Tony was gently but insistently led to Thor’s bedroom. There weren’t many words, Thor probably thought them unnecessary for what they were about to do.

“Anything I should know?” Tony asked. “Like, powers you haven’t … told me about yet?”

Thor laughed and pushed Tony onto the bed, straddling the man and smiling down at him. “You have nothing to fear, mortal.”

And for all his brash behavior and intimidating strength, Thor was very considerate and kind. He made certain that Tony was never in any pain; when he was finished and Tony thought the god would roll over and leave him to finish himself off, Thor reached down and stroked Tony until he was moaning and felt boneless and pleasantly exhausted.

Thor was also, surprisingly, a cuddler. Or, rather, he held Tony close to him in the night and went to sleep with his arm curled around Tony’s waist, murmuring soft words in a language Tony didn’t understand. Tony rested his head against Thor’s shoulder and fell asleep, and for once he did not dream.

Next morning at breakfast things were decidedly chilly. Tony didn’t realize why until he noticed his reflection in the toaster, the obvious red mark on his throat broadcasting to everyone at the table what had happened the previous night.

“Tony, please tell me that’s just an, an ordinary bruise,” Bruce said quietly.

Before Tony could answer Thor spoke up. “Of course not! It’s a mark I gave him last night. While I bedded him.” He grinned in a very satisfied manner.

The table fell silent. Tony wondered if it was possible to design a chair that, if triggered with the right switch, could drop its occupant down through the floor, to escape situations such as this.

“Thor, you can’t … you can’t just …” Steve looked queasy.

“I expected better of you,” Natasha said, tone steely.

Bruce was shaking slightly, eyes squeezed shut, deep in concentration. Everyone started to eye him nervously.

“Bruce, do you need to –”

“Shut up, please,” Bruce snapped. “I’m just … I …”

Thor was very confused now. “What social law have I broken now? I thought you were all accepting of homosexual couplings. You all explained it to me when that rainbow procession passed by in June. Natasha kissed a woman while Clint took pictures. And then Clint did the same with a man, while Natasha took pictures.”

Natasha glared and Clint froze, fists clenching.

“Yes but that, that’s … different.” Steve stuttered. “You can’t just … you don’t own him, ok? I know you think you do, but he’s a human being with rights and you can’t take advantage –”

“Whoa! Whoa! Hey! Hey!” Tony said, standing up. “Who said anything about taking advantage? There was no advantage being taken. If I hadn’t wanted to, you would have all heard loud and clear how much I didn’t want to. And then the lasers would have started happening. Because the coffee machine would have attacked. I’m not entirely helpless here, I know I can’t smash walls or shoot arrows across the city, but there’s no way this guy could do anything to me I didn’t want him to do. Ok?”

It was the most he’d spoken at once in the house since arriving. He felt exhausted.

Thor clapped him on the back and pulled him down onto his lap. “See? He might be my thrall, but I could not force him. Willing partners are best, so long as there are people willing to come to my bed, why should I force anyone?”

The rest of the table still seemed uncomfortable, but much less so. Bruce, at least, didn’t look so sickly anymore, and was able to drink his juice without shaking.

~*~

That night, Tony dreamed, but he did not dream of desert caves or the Machine or terrorists. He dreamt of a rainy coastline and a dark village, of a horde of bearded men storming through town, dragging people from their homes and animals from their pens. Tony ran, thinking to hide in the trees, but a blond man caught him and tackled him to the ground. There was an ax in his hand, but he was holding it against the earth, not pressing it to Tony’s throat. At least, not yet.

“Surrender,” growled the man in a heavily accented voice, eyes shining with emotions Tony didn’t dare guess at.

“And if I do?” Tony asked, squirming. The Viking was hard; he could feel it pressing against his leg.

The Viking grinned, thrusting against Tony and reaching down to grasp Tony’s own cock, half-hard from fear and guilty arousal the proximity of the Viking.

“Surrender,” the Viking insisted, stroking Tony roughly, quickly, and then holding off, pinning Tony’s wrists to the ground and making him moan with need.

“Yes … I surrender … please …”

“Will you be my thrall?” the Viking asked, hand ghosting over Tony’s cock.

“Yes! Please … master …”

Tony woke in bed, rubbing against Thor’s leg and mumbling. Thor was biting his own hand to keep from laughing.

“You surrender, do you?” he asked, laughing uproariously as Tony turned red with mortification. “Well, I am happy to oblige you, thrall,” and then Thor pounced, cat-like, pinning Tony down. “Is this what you wanted, from the start? I thought to be gentle with you, in these times many humans desire a gentle lover … do you want me harsh?” Thor’s hands were rough, callused, easily keeping Tony from escaping his grasp. “Or is this a game, for us to play? Tell me.”

Tony smiled. “A game, I think. If you want to try.”

Thor nodded. “Teach me, then, thrall. I … command you,” he grinned. “Correct?”

Tony laughed, then tried to be serious. “Yes … master.”

There were many awkward stops and starts, pitfalls to overcome and things that frightened Tony, such as having his eyes covered, but all in all it was ultimately a success.

Tony dreamed again. He dreamed of standing on the deck of a longship, approaching an icy land of deep snowdrifts and barren trees. Tony was cold, but the furs his master draped had over his shoulders kept him warm. Just as he would keep his master’s bed warm in the long winter nights, and wait for him to return from raiding voyages in the summer.

“Your new home, thrall,” his master said, wrapping his strong arms around Tony’s body.

“Yes,” Tony said, leaning back against his master. “Yes it is.”




(The end.)

Comments

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

So much incest ... it was so hard to keep myself away from it! But I did. Then later I created a fandom and someone wrote some incest and I actually read it. Took years, but they finally got me.

Yeah, I can read tame slash, but the kinky stuff makes me feel weird.
That's fine. There's plenty of tame stuff out there.

Yay! Hobo suit! ;D
What? No! No hobo suit ... don't you quote the Incredibles at me!

THRALL. Please? :D
Maybe, I'm very busy with not failing classes, you know.

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

You created a fandom? O.o

Yes, hobo suit, dah-ling. But no capes!

But it's almost Christmas break, isn't it? ;D (Huh, typed 'F' by mistake. Almost gave you a vampire emoticon. :F)

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

You created a fandom? O.o
Um, yes. Are you familiar with the website ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com? There existed only one fic, a trollfic. People int he tvtropes forums begged for some good fic. I wrote a fic. I got some people talking about tgwtg.com stuff and writing more fic. We got more friends and made a community. A guy from the website read my fic dramatically in a video, with accompanying art from another guy on the site and his slash fangirl girlfriend. And things just sort of exploded after that.

Yes, hobo suit, dah-ling. But no capes!
I'm going to friend you now, ok?

But it's almost Christmas break, isn't it? ;D (Huh, typed 'F' by mistake. Almost gave you a vampire emoticon. :F)
Yes, soon. But I'll be busy then too. Looking for internships. Preparing for MAGFest 2013. I'll find time for fic though!

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

Whoa! I'm talking to a famous person!!! No, I hadn't. Just went over right now and got lost. :P Where's that fic?

Friended back!

Oooh, internships, those are really helpful when looking for a job. Yay, fic!