[ His fingers close around her wrist, gentle, but firm. ]
What I need is you, [ he says, unabashed by the lust in his voice. In one fluid motion, he rises to his feet and tugs her closer, other arm scooping her up against his torso, and turns to face the bed. He lays her down onto the patchwork comforter, smooth and haphazard colors faded with age, its creases deepening as he kneels between her legs. Fingers ghost along the curve of her body, up her thighs to the underside of her breast where skin and muscle are not hardened by centuries of physical sparring and battle. This is not what he ever imagined contentedness to be-- had long since given up on it, the "ever after". ]
You are wondrous, [ he thinks, intending for her to hear it. For trusting him thus far, for expressing love despite his ancestry, and despite his crimes. Despite his best efforts, he thinks of those she has yet to know and feels a pang of dread at the inevitable revelation-- because how long can he continue his charade as the All-Father? Yet they may never have crossed paths otherwise.
He bends forward to reclaim her lips, the taste now bittersweet, because it would be Loki to mourn that which has just begun. The kiss is short; he moves onto her neck, teasing her skin with lips and teeth alike, and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It is as much a distraction from his thoughts as it is preparation. ]
no subject
What I need is you, [ he says, unabashed by the lust in his voice. In one fluid motion, he rises to his feet and tugs her closer, other arm scooping her up against his torso, and turns to face the bed. He lays her down onto the patchwork comforter, smooth and haphazard colors faded with age, its creases deepening as he kneels between her legs. Fingers ghost along the curve of her body, up her thighs to the underside of her breast where skin and muscle are not hardened by centuries of physical sparring and battle. This is not what he ever imagined contentedness to be-- had long since given up on it, the "ever after". ]
You are wondrous, [ he thinks, intending for her to hear it. For trusting him thus far, for expressing love despite his ancestry, and despite his crimes. Despite his best efforts, he thinks of those she has yet to know and feels a pang of dread at the inevitable revelation-- because how long can he continue his charade as the All-Father? Yet they may never have crossed paths otherwise.
He bends forward to reclaim her lips, the taste now bittersweet, because it would be Loki to mourn that which has just begun. The kiss is short; he moves onto her neck, teasing her skin with lips and teeth alike, and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It is as much a distraction from his thoughts as it is preparation. ]