#lokixomc

When the God of Mischief sauntered onto your planet, uninvited and unaccompanied, there was a moment where you thought he’d tear apart the peace your family had worked hard to achieve. He’d strolled into the main hall, a sly smirk plastered on his lips. You had been sitting carefully beside your father, groomed to perfection, your eyes wandering along the length of Loki’s body. He’d worn his best leathers, a prideful mixture of conniving green and charcoal black. 

“What is your business here, Loki of Asgard?” your father had asked. When Loki’s green gaze had found yours, you were surprised at the way your heart had stuttered in your chest. You had looked at your father, biting hard on the inside of your cheeks to keep the heat in your chest from spreading to the rest of your body. 

“Exploration purposes, my king,” Loki had answered, gruff voice making tingles spread along the length of your flesh. 

He stayed as a welcomed and top priority guest at the castle. You saw him, once in a while, as he silently crept inside the castle, his long shadow gliding on the walls. He never spoke a word to you beside to occasional nod or greeting. Careful to avoid any eye contact, he made it his goal to drive you insane. This man, whom you knew as a lying and manipulative man, had intrigued you since the instant he’d set his burning green gaze on yours. 

You were drawn to him in ways which you did not understand. You had always thought that women were your sole interest, yet the more you stared at his jaw during dinners, the more you found yourself wanting to kiss along the sharp edge. You were drawn to the deep and roach tone of his voice, to the way his hands were always soft, knuckles slightly red from straining over his knuckles. 

His hands became your obsession. Whenever he brought his thumb to his lips or used his index to point, your gaze was immediately drawn to his hands. They were the metal to your magnet. 

Even after some time of this whole silent dilemma, you were still unsure of how to act or what to say. Your intrigue for this man, this prince of Asgard, had driven you to stand on the precipice of your beliefs and literally jump into the unknown. 

“Good morning, Loki,” you said, walking into the breakfast hall, watching as he stopped between bites of grapes. He rose his brow in surprise. You had never uttered a word to him, always scared to embarrass yourself or unknowingly agree to being intrigued.  

“Good morning, Lord Y/L/N,” Loki greeted back. He plopped a grape into his mouth, careful to watch you as he dragged his index out of his mouth slowly. You watched him from under your brows, deciding that you wouldn’t hint any of your intrigue to him. “Have you got any plans today, my prince?” he asked, cocking his head to the side with a mischievous smile. 

You stopped midway from buttering your toast, turning a surprised look to Loki. The latter laughed, his lips spreading into a breathtaking smile that made you almost croon. 

“I’ve got some plans that I can shift around if yours are more appealing,” you answered, biting into your toast, giving him the same smile he gave you. 

That day, he brought you out of your comfort zone entirely. Both of you rode out of the city on horses, your hair in the wind, his green cape flying behind him in a haze. Following him, you couldn’t help the smile that spread your lips when you saw the utter content written on Loki’s breathtaking features. He was a true sight to take in, as he rode against the rising sun, his cheeks slightly pink from the chilliness of the air. His jet black hair was glistening, tucked safely behind his ears. The sight made you want to pepper feather light kisses on every inch of his face. 

You rode to the edge of the city, where brick gave way to grassy fields and Loki couldn’t stop laughing when your eyes were just absorbing all the green around you. Both of you slipped off your horses, and you let Loki lead you up a small hill where a peach tree stood proud against the orange sky. 

“Do you ever come here, on your own?” Loki asked, walking beside you, his knuckles sometimes brushing against your hand. You could feel that there was an untold sensuality flowing between the both of you. There was an unspoken rule, an unspoken fact rather, that both of you wanted the other. 

“Truthfully,” you breathed, unable to concentrate because of his knuckles brushing your hand, “I’ve never left the gate of the castle.”

Loki’s mouth opened in shock, until a smirk spread on his lips and he chuckled lowly. “These are your people, Y/N, your people,” he said, spreading his arms wide to emphasize. You watched him with warmth in your heart. He was truly beautiful when he was careless and simple. 

“I guess I will be coming up to this tree more often, now,” you admitted. 

Loki’s hand clasped around yours suddenly, the look on his face turning serious as he let his fingers intertwine with yours. “I want to be good with you,” he whispered, his hair tickling the sides of his cheeks. When his eyes made contact with yours, your heart squeezed. His expression harbored pain and desperation, his heart yearning for something sweet and harmless. 

You let him rub tiny circles on the flesh between your thumb and your index with his thumb, making your skin tingle with anticipation. 

His brows rose in sadness, his eyes dropping to your feet. Up on this mountain, your dark figures outlined by the sun, no one could see you and no one could hear you. “I want, for the first time in my life, to treat someone well,” he whispered again. 

You let him kiss you and that was the beginning of something soft and weak and unbreakable all at once. It stood on shaking limbs yet was as strong as an oak tree, caught between fragile and concrete. You let him splay his hands on your cheeks and tear moans from your mouth with his tongue, his lips ravaging yours in complete confidence. 

The days and weeks and months that passed were a puzzle of kissing pieces, your mind swirling with the idea of Loki flush against you or his hands where you’d never thought he’d venture. But he did, palming you against your pants, drawing soft grunts from your lips. 

“You’re a good prince, aren’t you?” he whispered in your ear, his mouth laying open-mouthed kisses on your neck. 

He had experience in this domain and it showed. He knew how to make you topple over the edge with just his hands, and even when he wrapped his mouth around your erection, he could make you crumble into a begging mess. 

“Do you want to please me?” he once asked, and had been as patient as a mother with you. He had taught you the ways he liked to be pleased. He showed you the places on his body which your tongue could draw out lustful groans from his lips. When you began exploring on your own, you found places even he wasn’t aware of. 

“I think you’re making me fall for you,” you admitted one night, laying against his chest, your legs tangled with his under the covers. 

His fingers were clawing at the ungodly mess of your hair, his chest heaving up and down slowly. “Have I wooed the prince?” he asked back, chuckling, the sound echoing in his chest. 

Yet he was gone shortly after. He had made you live the best days of your life; the days that had made you realize that you were not who you’d thought you were. You’d realized all the things you’ve ever wanted had crumbled with Loki’s arrival. Loki was a man of secrets, yet he’d revealed himself bare to you, truly naked for you to drink him in as he was; dark and abandoned, desperate and angry. You’d tried to love him like he’d tried to love you back, yet both of you had duties that overrode your desires to be touched and loved. 

He left and took a part of you with him. You were torn in half, between light and dark, the presence of Loki in your life making the equilibrium tilt within you. There was a need for Loki, a want that drove you crazy. You wanted to leave your people and search for him through the cosmos so you could lay beside him one more night. You wanted to enjoy the smell of his skin or the softness of his raven hair, to enjoy the warmth of the curve of his body against yours. He was your love and your catalyst. 

Yet you couldn’t leave your people. You were born to rule and only you were fit to sit on the throne. 

You stayed forever, until your dying breath, with the memories of a dark-haired man who’d showed you how to love. Who’d totally and irrevocably wooed you.