As always there was that urge in Loki to press buttons. To poke and push and see just what Steve Rogers was hiding behind that red white and blue, to find out which broken bits got the most reaction. But unlike so many other incarnations, this one seemed at least to be willing to let that sort of thing lie. For the most part anyways, it was still in his nature to seek reactions, to seek outbursts, but at the same time there was a line. Shaky, blurred, a thing still being defined, but he was trying.

For the moment there was no sign of any of it. Mischief, playful teasing, the sharper, more pointed prodding that was rare from him but happened on occasion. Nothing of it was present currently, Loki just letting himself be pulled along by Steve, staying pressed in as close as he could, feeling at least some comfort so far as he picked up on that protective worry, the warmth of the arms around him. Fingers curling shakily in the fabric of Steve’s shirt, though even he wasn’t sure if it was to keep the man there with him, or if he was going to try and push away.

“J-just bruises.” Replied in a low tone, something a bit slurred though he didn’t really notice that part, focused as he was on the feel of that embrace, something steadying in it, and the dark morose thoughts already seeping in. The scene itself had been fine. Restraints and flogging, nothing he couldn’t take, nothing he didn't deserve but…

It seemed that his partner just up and leaving after the scene was done wasn’t doing him any favors tonight. Not that it ever seemed to, but it wasn't every session he felt so low that he couldn't just suffer through it alone.