#loki marvel

Her back was to him, and she was on her side, in one of her lovely, enchanting silk nightgowns. White silk, as if the colour itself would make the heat more bearable for her. His every instinct had been screaming at him to ravish her from the moment she had put it on earlier in the evening. She tended to remain in her day dress for a while longer upon retiring to their chambers for the evening, but she had not managed to hold out this night. With her first step into the privacy of their rooms, she had asked him to help rid her of her dress. He’d had to hold back his insatiable adoration for her so as to leave only her wishes fulfilled. His were much lewder (and unacceptable in such weather).

Even now, hours later, he craved her. But he knew she would hit him, or worse, berate him, if he tried anything now. It is why he had spent the past few minutes earnestly praying to the Norns for a reprieve from this heat. All in the name of the sanctity of marriage, he’d assured them in his silent prayers.

He heard more than saw one of her hands reaching back blindly for him, smacking their sheets a few times before making contact with the bare skin of his torso. She, and this offended Loki very much, made a displeased sound once she felt him.

“You are not cold.” She said, turning onto her other side, finally granting him a look at her beautiful (currently sour) face.

“No,” He grinned despite his previous offense, he could not help his smiles around her. “I believe that is impossible with the current state of affairs, my darling.”

“You are a Jötunn, husband.”

“Yes, beloved, I am. However, just as any other creature currently rendered to a pathetic state in this weather, my heritage does not seem to matter, as we seem to be suffering together.”

“Should you not be exempt from the effects of the heat?” She continued to riposte with him, propped up on her forearm.

Loki chuckled, truly endeared at how the heat seemed to make his wife even more fiery than her usual.

“Perhaps in my true form, beloved. Or, perhaps, I might tolerate it even less. I could not say.”

“We should try.” She poked the middle of his chest with her index.

“My dearest, I adore you, I truly do, but I shall not risk immolation for the sake of your greater comfort.”

“Then you do not truly love me.” She huffed, flopping onto her back just as he began to laugh at her outburst.

“The heat has rendered you insolent, my love. And forgetful, it seems.”

She turned her head just enough to glare at him, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

“You seem to have forgotten my very being, dearest. I live to love and pleasure you.” He purred lowly, one of his hands lightly tracing her silk-clad side. “Which is why I could not risk dying, even if to refresh you. Who would please you once I am gone?”

“One of the guards, maybe. They do so love to ogle my figure.” She could not hide her amusement at her own words, smirk pulling at her mouth.

“Do not jest, wife. I am in no mood.” Loki leaned over her, his hair falling like curtains around her head.

“And yet when you do it, the Realms must endure it-”

Loki quieted her with a kiss, her tongue gladly meeting his despite her previous complaints of being too close to him to bear. When she got like this, Loki found her both irritating and enticing. Mostly enticing.

She broke the kiss after a few more moments of bliss, and granted him reprieve by letting him lavish her neck with kisses and bites.

“Could we not have Thor force the storm?” She thought aloud, staring up at the ceiling.

The idea had Loki pausing, pulling away from her neck to look at her.

“… I shall discuss with him in the morn, my love.”

“Could we not wake him now? Break his doors down. For the good of Asgard, surely.”

“Nothing could wake him, my love. You know this. The oaf rises when he is ready to.”

She groaned, running her palms down her face in frustration before pushing him off her rather abruptly. Loki could not help but pout slightly, watching her as she stood from their bed and walked to the windows. The curtains were barely moving. Even the usual breeze seemed to have been suffocated by the heat.

“I must go.”

“Go? Dearest, we should not jump to rash decisions such as seeking asylum in another realm from a few days of hotter weather.”

He watched her fan herself with her nightgown, pulling the fabric away from her chest repeatedly in order to create a light breeze for herself.

“Even your unending wisdom seems to have been subdued by the heat, husband.”

Loki watched her. Admired her, really, though it was becoming harder to the more she continued to poke at him with increasingly barbed words.

“I will strongly consider a visit to Jotunheim with you tomorrow, darling, if it means having my wife returned to me. She seems to have been replaced by a cruel woman, whose powers lie in sharpened words.”

She turned back to look at him (maybe glaring was a better description of what she was doing). Loki still found her deeply, impossibly irresistible. “Will you join me for a walk in the gardens, or shall I go it alone?”

It is how they found themselves in the gardens minutes later. Despite her usual affinity for maintaining a good impression in court, she had not bothered to change at all, to put an outer robe on, or even to put a cloak on. Her daring had caused him to harden in his breeches, though he’d been somewhat hard from the moment she’d begun to admonish him in their bed.

Loki himself had remained shirtless, only his leather trousers on. He had some dignity, after all. And an affinity for style. He could not very well go out in his sleep breeches. He wasn’t Thor.

The breeze seemed to have found them now that they were down in the gardens, seemingly eager for some company. His darling seemed plenty happy to be that company. After a few minutes of traipsing through the outer gardens under the hazy moonlight, she linked her arm with his and Loki felt his heart soar.

“My darling… I have missed you.” He cooed, looking down at their arms, touching again after what had felt like an eternity even to him.

“You simply have a flair for the dramatics, my love.”

He grinned, hearing her call him a sweeter name once more.

“You must stop seducing me, my heart. I can only take so much from my perfect temptress.”

“I do not aim to seduce you, husband.” She spoke the words as if she were, funnily enough, recounting the weather, but he could see her amusement plainly on her face.

“No? Then you’ve a natural talent for it, my love.” His body moved of its own accord, stepping in front of her and pulling her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her middle.

“You are incessant, Loki…” Even still, he could see the smile on her lips. The moon seemed to be on his side, its rays illuminating her smile further.

“I am a man in love.” He corrected. “It cannot be helped. I need you. I ache for you. Even this heat was not enough to stop my mind from straying to thoughts of your ambrosial cunt, darling. To thoughts of it around me, wanting me deeper inside it.” He was whispering the words against her temple, feeling her breath on his neck as it quickened.

 “You always take me exquisitely well, my darling. Could we not see if that is also the case in the royal gardens?” His grin was saccharine, framing him as an innocent as if he wasn’t a starving, salivating wolf.

“I should have left you in our bed.”

“I would have crawled after you, my love. See what you have made of me? The God of Mischief, happy to be on his knees for someone else.”

“I would have tied you up to prevent you from following after me.” She could act unaffected by his words all she wanted, but he could feel her hands sliding up his chest slowly whilst she spoke her biting words.

“I would welcome any sensation if it came from you, dearest, no matter how restrictive.”

She huffed, turning her head away from him to hide her smirk, Loki using that moment as an excuse to lean in and kiss her jaw.

She tilted her head and looked behind his head.

“That tree.” She said softly.

Loki hummed lazily in reply, senses attuned to her proximity and nothing else.

You twist your head and find his lips in the dark. “Did everything go alright?”

“Mmm.” Loki presses a kiss to the curve of your neck and your whole body tingles. “I came straight from the bifrost. I may be a little cold, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll warm you up.” You push your ass against his crotch.

“Don’t tempt me, Mortal.”

You bite your lip, stifling a laugh as Loki’s cock hardens beneath the press of your flesh.

“I heard that,” he whispers, and drags himself through the gap of your ass cheeks. “But fortunately for you, retribution for your mischief will be merciful, tonight.”

You frown, and crane back. “You’re too tired?”

Unthinkable.

Only the faintest outline of Loki is visible: hair tied up in a knot, the angular lines of his face cutting though the darkness.

“A little.” But he thrusts gently against your ass all the same. “I wouldn’t be providing the worship you’re accustomed to—and that simply isn’t acceptable. It's almost dawn. Go back to sleep.”

You draw your lips over his, relishing the heat of his breath despite the chill of his skin and the metallic scorch of magic which clings to it.

“I just want to be near you.” You reach between your bodies and grip his cock, pumping the crown gently. Loki groans. “Please?”

Loki’s mouth latches to the curve of your neck and you fall back to the pillow. His cock rubs over the slip of your sex, the long column of flesh skating through your folds and rubbing over your clit. The pretty moans Loki adores flutter from your lips as he draws his manhood back, lingers, and then slides it inside you. You gasp his name as he stills.

“Clench…” he murmurs into your neck, and you do. A groan catches in his throat. It makes you squirm against him, but Loki holds you still. “You wanted to be near me. Is this not close enough?”

His hand cups your breast, and a thread of desire flares directly to your cunt as he brushes a fingertip over the nipple. “Clench,” he orders softly. The purr is waves scraping shells. “Good. Circle.”

“Loki…” you whimper, circling your hips tightly against the flat of his stomach.

Ordinarily he would be plunging himself into you like a symphony: calculated highs and lows which flow to the rhythm of your need. But there’s something impossibly erotic about his woozy breaths —about the god’s lazy sigh as you bring the crown of his perfect cock to the lip of your channel and dip it, before pushing back once more. His contentment is a chorus of praise, beautiful in its filth, and as his thighs tense, you slow—an attempt to edge him.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

Loki curls to your back and slips his hand between your legs. The skilful fingers tug at your clit—once, twice, and on the third, you explode. The force of your tense spills Loki over the edge, and heavy breaths filling the bedroom as the two of you tumble through climax.

You turn your head as the panting subsides, kissing the soft skin beneath his eye.

“I missed you,” you whisper, but as you try to slid his cock free from your body, he pulls you closer.

“Don’t let me go,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Never.”

His smile grows against your skin as the first chink of dawn spills through the crack in the curtains. He catches your lips with a final, tender thrust inside you, his body radiating the same warmth as the beat of the heart thumping between your shoulder-blades.