#loki dubcon

“Loki is on Midgard, yes?”

“Yeah. And I know that’s kinda dodgy given, you know, last time he was there he killed a couple people.”

“He’s a changed God now, it seems. Love altered his character. Anyway.” Thor’s large shoulders hunched up into a shrug and he began to pace. “Heimdall summoned me. He received a message from Loki. The message is as follows – he will need several more days on Midgard to complete the mission. However. I requested Good Heimdall cast his gaze upon my brother. And I come here to tell you the truth.”

“Fuck. What’s he up to?”

Thor walked back and forth, looking at sat you on the chaise then back to his feet.

“Do you wanna sit down?”

“I erm… yes, alright.” Gingerly, he perched on the edge of the chaise, next to you. “I wasn’t certain which surfaces were… soiled, if you will.”

“Shit, don’t sit there then!”

Thor’s arse left the chaise as though he his buttocks had touched fire. “Norns!”

You laughed and walked towards the steps leading to your balcony. You sat down, and Thor followed, looking suspiciously at the sandstone perch. “It’s fine. We haven’t fucked here. Promise.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Well. I am afraid to say, Loki is up to his schemes. Heimdall witnessed a plan that would cause the duplicates of you to… well, to fall in love with one another.”

You bowed your head, rubbing your temples with your fingertips. “Fucks sake, Loki.”

“You realise this will strengthen the power of The Trifecta. And I suspect Loki knows this too.”

“What did you just say.”

“I am not blessed with my brother’s intelligence. I have the brawn over the brains, as they say on Midgard. Though I am not the oaf my brother makes me out to be. And...” Thor paused for dramatic effect, tilting his head towards you affectionately. “I read The Trifecta last week. A refresh, if you will.”

“Remind me again what the three components are.”

“The first is a belief that it is possible to live a longer life. The second, a compelling reason to remain alive for many years. And the third, as you know, is love.”

“And you think having our duplicates fall in love somehow multiplies this.”

Thor nodded. “He takes too many risks. It is… unwise.” He glanced over at you sympathetically. “And unfair.”

“It’s a risk because we don’t know what’ll happen to me.”

“Yes. It is my fear something… unfortunate… may happen due to my brother’s carelessness.”

You leaned towards the muscular blond and placed a hand on his thigh. It was hard. Solid. Your hand lingered in curiosity, looking down at his armour. “Thor, I can’t tell you how I know. But… everything’s going to be okay. I promise.

“You went to see her, didn’t you. The one who’s name we do not speak. Loki made a predictable excuse during your recent break, which I suspect was not to the great Mountains of Asgard.”

You worried your lip between your teeth. “Yeah. Yeah we saw her.”

“And what did she say of your powers?”

“Well, I don’t really have any powers yet.”

Oh really. He cocked his head mischievously, grinning at you. Then what would you call this?

“Okay, okay. The telepathy. Sure.”

Thor looked forward and spoke solemnly. “We may need you. Asgard may call on you. When I am King.”

You sighed. “Thor, we need to stop speaking in riddles. It’s exhausting.”

“Very well. You will begin to train with Lady Sif. We will say it is good for your mortal form. When we both know we are preparing you for…” He gestured at you vaguely. “…whatever your powers will be.”

“Hang on. You’re saying my powers will kick in later?”

“It’s related to heat, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Loki tells me you cannot burn your mortal skin.”

“Huh? When did he tell you that.”

“During training, before your visit to the forest. He suspects your powers are of the sun.”

“Fucking hell Thor. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yes. I know.” He placed his hands on his knees and stood, offering his hand to you. “But we will take care of you. Lady Sif would like to train with you this evening, if you are ready.”

“Doesn’t that blow our cover? Me and Loki are in ‘honeymoon’ mode, right?”

“Yes, which is why you and Lady Sif are meeting here on your balcony for training which we will simply call… girls talk. Is that what they call it on Midgard?” He flashed a smile, all too pleased with himself.

You grinned back. “Yeah. Something like that.”

***

You slid the soft duvet cover down over your shoulders, the July evening causing you to feel as though you were inside an oven, roasting from the inside out. You wore only a light silky camisole and shorts, feeling the softness of fine Asgardian linen against the bare skin of your legs and arms. You weren’t sure when, but the evening began to pull you into the warmth of slumber, falling into the void of inky blackness suspended somewhere between sleep and waking.

And that’s when you felt it.

The cool of metal armour against your shoulder blades. The scent of leather and city smog. The creaking of centuries-old leather as he pressed his body against yours, wrapping his form around you.

“Loki?” Your voice was hoarse with sleep.

He chuckled. “I certainly hope so. Were you expecting someone else? My brother, perhaps. Or Lady Sif?” His tone was buoyant.

You elbowed him in the stomach lightly. “When did you get back?”

A kiss pressed itself to your neck. “Just now.”

“You smell of London.”

“Dreadful place, darling. Dreary. Terribly dirty.”

“Yeah. It’s not for everyone.”

“Gods, love.” He snaked his arm around your waist, over your stomach. “You feel so… so warm.”

“Well, you know… it’s summer.”

His free hand trailed down your thigh, fingertips lightly brushing your skin. “So soft. Delicate.” He kissed your cheek, sweeping the hair from your neck and kissing there too. Your back arched of its own accord, pushing your buttocks into his crotch. You squirmed under his touch as his fingertips ghosted under your camisole and over your stomach, the scent of leather intoxicating you and invading your senses.

“Have you always been this lovely?” He nuzzled his face into yours like a cat. An incoherent groan was your response. He brushed his hand over your shoulder causing the thin silk strap of your camisole to fall. He hummed into your shoulder as he kissed it. “Love, I genuinely wanted to sleep. And now…”

You noticed how one of his thighs surrounded you, feeling the leather of his trousers against your bare skin. Cautiously, he moved his knee forward, pressing into the space in front of you as he pushed your shoulder down on the bed. He straddled you now, both knees pressing into the soft mattress, the black leather pulled taught over every hard line of his legs. You looked up and saw him for the first time, a look of pure love and adoration bleeding into his sharp features.

And lust.

Lust, too.

He laughed, his neck exposed and the skin around his eyes crinkling lovingly. You both remained quiet, looking at each other. Exploring each other. He wore the same armour he wore in the cell. Thick. Black. Imposing.

“Wait, are you… Loki, are you wearing your boots in bed?” The thought of London city filth grinding into your white sheets gave you the sensation of spiders scuttling over your skin.

“Oh… have I made an error?” He looked down, brow creasing, his stomach overturning at the feeling of disappointing you.

I simply could not wait to join her in bed.

But perhaps I should have taken a moment to take them off and leave them at the door.

One boot came into your sightline as he lifted his knee and pressed the sole of his boot into the mattress, scrutinizing the evidence of his carelessness. You reached forward as your fingertips grazed over the material. You had never looked at his boots in detail before. You gazed now at the black material, custom-made for him centuries prior, the lattice of leather crossing effortlessly underneath his knees. They were beautiful. Why hadn’t you noticed them before? With Loki, there was a lot to take in. Every moment offered a chance to absorb a new crinkle, crease or detail. In his face. His skin. His body. His armour. His leather. And tonight, his footwear.

“Keep them on, Lokes.” You looked up at him like a doe stood in a clearing. “Please.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda hot, actually. Like you’re an intruder who broke into my chambers.”

You both felt a sensation in your stomach you could not name. He cocked his head as he looked down at you. You squeezed his hand. He swallowed thickly. Then squeezed your hand in return.

Your word of safety is goblet, yes?

Yeah. And yours is lightning.

Yes darling.

“You’re sure though, Lokes? After everything you’ve been through, I don’t want to…”

He leaned down and placed two strong hands either side of your face, his grip equal parts firm and gentle. He kissed you resolutely, transferring his emotion into your body. You felt his chest heave with the exertion of deep breaths.

“I will not hurt you, darling. That is my only limit. I will pretend, yes. But I will not harm you.”

You tugged at the soft flesh of his bottom lip, toying it lightly between your teeth. “You’re not going to bite me, then?”

“I will certainly try not to. Not in this form, at least.” He winked.

Dork.

Minx.

“And how do you feel about daggers?”

“What, like, generally?”

A light chuckle. “In bed. Do you permit my use of knives? I will be careful of course.”

You felt your vagina answer for you.

“Is that a yes, darling?”

“Mmm hmm.” You bit down on your own lip.

He pushed himself up and out of bed.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Getting into character. Just, umm… lay as you were earlier. Coiled like a serpent. Sleeping.”

“You got it.”

You resumed your position curled up in bed and steadied your breath, inhaling deeply. You lay there for a minute or two, feeling the thundering thud of your heartbeat in your neck and the sound of blood rushing through your ears. The next thing you heard was heavy footsteps. You felt a large hand over your mouth. Hot breath on your neck. And a low, haughty voice in your ear.

“Do not scream. And you may survive this.”

Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick.

You felt cool metal on your shoulder as he placed the flat side of his dagger there.

Too far, love?

No. Go further.

In one swift moment, the dagger lifted up and cut through the straps of your silk vest. You swore you could taste your own pulse.

“Are you the Prince’s beloved mortal?” You felt a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Mmm hmmm….” Your voice box vibrated with nerves.

He turned you easily, removing his hand from your mouth. He climbed on top of you. You opened your eyes. He straddled you, looking down at you with a sneer.

“Do. Not. Scream.” He lifted his eyebrows incredulously, finishing off his words with an arrogant chin-tilt. All you could do was nod. He snorted air out of his nostrils and leaned down, grabbing your jaw firmly as he swiped the flat of his tongue over the side of your face. “You taste… sweet. Hmm. Unsurprising.”

He palmed your breasts firmly, a finger and thumb lingering gently over a nipple before twisting sharply as you yelped. Predictably he chuckled, leering down at you as his dagger sliced through the front of your vest like a hot knife through thick cream. You covered your chest with your hands. He grabbed your wrists and held them down by your sides. You wriggled. You found you could not move. The half-ton God on top of you completely overpowered you. There was nothing you could do. Even if you wanted to.

“P-please don’t kill me.” Your voice shook with unpretentious fear. If Loki wasn’t busying himself as a deity and divine scoundrel on Asgard, you were certain he was Oscar-worthy.

“And why would I do that? When you are so much more valuable as my plaything.” He ripped away your shorts, rendering you naked and helpless beneath him.

He swiped one finger through your folds, holding it level with his eye line and frowning at the evidence. “If I didn’t know better, mortal, I would think you were enjoying this.” He smirked. “Whore.”

He straightened up, his hands fumbling messily with his trousers, his knees pressing into the side of your hips like a vice. As you watched him, your chest heaved. He lay down, forearms either side of you, his hard cock dragging against your inner thigh. You heard a whisper in your ear as a gentle thumb stroked your cheek. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“Mmm.”

His fingertips trailed down your arm. He found your hand and squeezed it, waiting for you to return the squeeze, which you did.

“I’m going to be rough. Tell me the very moment I approach your limit. You must, love. Please.”

“I will.”

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too.” Your eyes had fallen closed again, intoxicated by his overpowering scent. You felt a kiss on your cheek before he fell back into character.

In one thrust, he was inside you. Your eyelids shot open. His hips snapped firmly back and forth, a piston on a machine, leaning down and pressing the hard armour of his chest into the soft flesh of your breasts. His hand found your hair, tugging lightly. You moaned. He buried his head into your shoulder, growling as he administered a particularly forceful thrust. You felt his teeth graze your skin.

Bite me.

No.

Please.

I won’t, daring.

Draw blood.

“NO.” His eyes met yours. He snarled, cocking his head. Your Loki was in there, and you felt safe knowing your gentle lover was still available to you despite the mask created by his overpowering method acting. He swiped his tongue up your neck and reached down to circle your clit with his hands as he continued to penetrate you.

“Stop. Please.” Your back arched with pleasure.

He chuckled darkly. “Absolutely not, mortal.” He spread his fingers over your collarbone, lingering there, before moving up to your neck. He didn’t squeeze. But the feeling of his fingers coiled around your neck like a snake made you tremble with desire. He removed his hand and pinned your wrists above you, nibbling at your neck. You felt hot puffs of air on the sensitive skin.

His hips tired and his thrusts became slack as he neared his end. You came like a freight train, moaning out loud, as he pulled out of you and finished himself with his hand, his seed decorating your stomach and breasts. He finished with a ferocious sound, heard only in the wild. Your heart pounded hard in your chest, the shock waves of each beat felt in every cell of your body. Loki’s breathing steadied and he frowned at you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Drowsy. But good.”

“Stay there.”

When you opened your eyes, he was wiping your torso with a warm, wet flannel, switching to a fluffy towel to dry you off. “Here, love. Drink this.” He guided you up to sitting and passed you a tumbler of water from the nightstand, one hand around the glass and the other on your back, steadying you. He turned his wrist ninety degrees and your nightwear appeared back on your body, completely intact. He placed the water back down. He kissed your forehead.

“What do you need, love?”

“Just you. And some sleep.”

“It’s alright if I get in bed like this?” He gestured to his armour.

“Yeah.”

“And shall I take my boots off?”

“No. Keep them on.”

When you woke, you were tangled in him, surrounded by the comforting scent of home.

Whether home was the lingering aroma of London’s smog, or the heady scent of leather, you couldn’t be sure.

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