#pirate loki

As she said it, your eyes found the tall figure shrouded in half-shadows leaning against the wall. The brim of a triangular hat covered his eyes, wisps of wild hair fluttering in the evening breeze from the open doorway. “That’s Long-Dong Laufeyson.” Scarlett hissed. “Don’t be a fool” you spat, “Long-Dong hasn’t been seen in years. He’s a fugitive, wanted for that business with the-” Scarlett nodded feverishly. “-with the governor's daughter, yes.”

The figure swirled the tankard in his grip, staring at it intently. You could just make out his infamous jawline beneath the shadows; cheekbones sharp and curved like the bow of a ship.

He wore a dark waistcoat, trimmed with gold thread and heavy buttons. A linen shirt hung low on his chest, the sliver of taut skin drawing your eye before falling to the loose ruffles hanging from billowing sleeves. The outline of his biceps were visible beneath the voluminous fabric; altogether too white to belong to anyone sleeping in hog barns or cargo holds. The leather waistcoat nipped in to his thick torso, the buttons straining lightly. The shirt was casually tucked into the waistband of his tight trousers. Too tight for climbing up mast-lines. Your analytical eyes ran from the leather strap diagonally buckled to his torso to the knee-high boots which glinted in the candlelight. He was clean. Too clean. This was no fugitive. And no pirate, either. Scarlett leant closer. “They say he can only come on land once every five years...” You scoffed, batting her away and offering a brief curtsey and a leer down your cleavage to the men seated at the table. “It’s true!” Scarlett whined, tugging the back of your apron as you padded over the cobbled floor towards the bar. “I have work to do.” you mumbled, trying not to look at the mysterious figure in the corner. She pulled your apron again, making you spin with a warning growl. “They say his night spent on land...that he picks one woman and…” she trailed off. “And what?” you snapped, folding your arms.

Scarlett’s eyes flickered to the side, checking for eavesdroppers. Her hand grasped your wrist again, pulling you both to lean on the bar. One of the comatose drunks stirred, foam drooling from his open lips. You’d never seen her so worked up, and considering penchant for the dramatic; you were impressed. “That he picks one woman, and fucks ‘er mad.” You snorted, a relieved smile stretching across your face. “Ai, Scarlett. You shouldn’t believe the tall tales men tell. Especially these men.” You cast an elbow behind you, hitting one of the drunk pirates shoulders. He raised his head, a mess of hair like a birds nest; eyes rolling. “Ehy-my quarterdeck ye lowly biscuit-eater...cleave him to the brisket..” he slurred, before his head fell back to the wood with a thump. “Besides” you continued. “He won’t find any governor's daughters in this shithole if that’s his type.” Scarlett was staring over your shoulder, entranced. “Look...look” she hissed. “The medallions wound in ‘is hair. Solid gold, they say. And every one, a woman’s soul.” You rolled your eyes, as she continued in hushed tones. “They say that when the poor bitch he’s fuckin’ is having’ her last climax...you know, the one that addles her mind...she can hear the voices of all the other ladies howlin’ his name as their sanity melts with pleasure...” A roar of raucous laughter erupted from the other side of the tavern. Your stare narrowed at the near-hysterical girl in front of you. “We need to get back to work, Lottie. It’s busy tonight.” She nodded reluctantly, before the colour drained from her face.

Her wide eyes were focused over your left shoulder, fingers pulling at the tuck of your apron. “Go.” you murmured. Years as the owner of a place like this had taught you when you were being approached from behind, however soft the footsteps. She scuttled away, immediately busying herself with the group of lively men at the rear of the tavern. “Can I help yo-” The question evaporated on your tongue as you spun to face the infamous Long-Dong Laufeyson. The tricorn hat had been pushed upwards slightly, the angles of his exquisite bone structure a chasm of shadows in the candlelight. “Am I to understand you are the proprietor of this establishment?” You snorted, flexing your fingers in a fist. This man is no pirate, you thought again; letting the breathe that had caught in your throat settle. He was too well spoken, the heavy English accent as dark and deep as dead man’s trench. It was too unassuaged by drink and hardship and rough sea air. In other words, too perfect. “Who wants to know?” He let out a measured chuckle. “I think you know. Your wench gave my introductions, did she not?”

You felt your cheeks heat, taking a defiant step towards him. “Strangers are always welcome in my tavern, sir.” you said, firmly. “But brutishness will not be tolerated.” His deep blue eyes searched yours, looking to discover any untruth in your words. Seemingly, he found none. “Of that I am certain, Madam.” he purred, reverently. You stared at him, lips pursed; breathing through your nostrils. The pulse in your neck was fast. Heavy. “You think it lies?” he murmured, pinching a curl which fell over your collarbone and swiping it backwards. “My...legend?” “When you work in my business long enough, you realise most everything is lies.” you said coldly, tilting your chin up as all your concentration focused on slowing your breaths. “And I’ll thank you not to touch me.” The man leant on the bar, the bend of his elbow creasing the leather of his waistcoat across his wide chest. He removed his hat. “Captain Laufeyson, at your service.” he murmured knowingly, tossing the headpiece on the counter. It was impossible now not to notice the tiny gold medallions woven into the lengths of his hair, linked in strands and dispersed throughout the dark mane like embers in the night sky. Like stars, you thought; trying to count them. “Nineteen.” he noted quietly, before taking a sip of mead. “Don’t you need a ship to be a captain?” you sniffed, mirroring his stance on the bar. “I haven’t seen any new bodies in the harbour.” He released a mirthless chuckle. “I have a ship, my lady. Your next question?” His face tilted towards you, making your breath hitch. The Captain’s dark lashes framed entrancing almond eyes, his alabaster skin smooth and seemingly untouched by abrasive ocean air and burning sun. “There’s a rumour about you. Abducting women and driving them mad. Pretty disgraceful even for a pirate.” you sneered, swiping a trail of mead from the counter-top. “Seduction, Madam...not abduction.” he hummed calmly while you scoffed. “And I prefer the term freedom, to madness.” He took another sip with his eyes fixed on you. Foam gathered on his top lip as he lowered the tankard, his keen stare glinting as he watched you observe his tongue flick out and lick it away. “You are a woman of the world, and no virgin I’d wager…” he murmured, narrowing his eyes playfully. “But I would wager also that you know such myths among the folk do not simply appear from thin air.” He twirled a coin in his fingers, before making it vanish beneath his thumb. “Do you believe in magic, I wonder...” he purred, making your breath hitch as his eyelashes fluttered upwards.

You could have sworn you saw the greenish blues of his irises ripple. “No.” you said plainly, watching his lip tug upwards in a clandestine smirk. Suddenly you noticed that a hush had descended over the tavern, and that more eyes than were safe had fallen on you both. “You should get out of here, there’s still a bounty on your head.” you snipped, seeing his smile stretch wider.

“Ah, so the Governor discovered us then.” he chuckled. You folded your arms. “She ran away before the wedding to her betrothed, and not before she told her father all about what you did.” you spat. The Captain raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Ran away, you say?” he pondered quietly. “Good for her.” “That was a smart match. You ruined that poor girl…” you chided, running your eyes down the maddening leather strap hanging sluttishly across his chest. He adjusted the ruffles of his cuffs, before placing the tricorn hat back on its jaunty angle. “You say ruin, I say...liberated.” he coyed, leaning forward.

His breath was sweet and warm, a tang of sea salt hanging on the rough edges of his curls. “I spared her from a life of misery, and you know it.” he whispered. “Now, enough of these inane pleasantries...come and see my vessel.” You raised an eyebrow, dumbstruck by his proposition. The man leant closer, the scent of leather and spices filling your nostrils.

“I recognise the yearning inside you. The resolute and unyielding need.” he hummed, making your thighs squeeze together. “The one that craves adventure away from these…” he cast a glance over his shoulder to the pirate now hanging dangerously over the edge of the counter-top; “...cretins.” he finished with a sneer. You snorted. “I’ve seen enough vessels in my time, Sir. I am certain yours is nothing special.” you scoffed, an awkward laugh making it’s way between the words. Your stomach flipped as the candle on the bar between you flickered, warmth nestling in the shallow of his cheekbones.

“Good lady...” he purred deeply, trailing off as he dipped one wide fingertip in the pooling wax. You watched it harden in seconds, feeling your heart beat faster beneath your corset. He rubbed his thumb against the smooth white cap cupping the long digit, a smile curling at his lips. “I can assure you, that you have never boarded a vessel like mine.”

A wisp of cloud webbed the moon as you walked with the stranger to the harbour. There was no sound save the eery lapping of water at the helm of the barges tethered close to the side of the stone jetty. You pulled the shawl tighter around your arms, a barrier to the unseasonal chill. Your companion’s boots thudded against the rough walkway, clunking buckles punctuating every purposeful stride. The soft jingle of the golden medallions in his hair was soothing, if you didn’t think too much about what Scarlett had said. You shivered. “So, what do I call you?” you muttered, scouting around at the ships dotted further out in the basin. The stranger chuckled, saying nothing. “Long-Dong?” you scoffed, as a gust of sea air skated up your long skirts. “Captain? Allegedly…” you grumbled, casting another look around the port. You had reached the end of the jetty, passing the final ship at anchor. Crossing your arms, you stopped. This had gone on long enough. “And what kind of name is Laufey-son anyway? That sounds a fiction too, like the rest of it.” “Long-Dong, Captain, Laufeyson…all correct, Madam. All very much...verifiable.” he smarmed, turning with a flourish at the very edge of the jetty. You scoffed, a reluctant smile twitching. He was mad, of course; but weren’t they all.

“Close your eyes.” he murmured, skirting his hands beneath the open tunic to rest on his hips. It was your turn to chuckle. “I wasn’t born yesterday Long-Dong.” you sneered, seeing him shrug.

“Merely trying to save your sanity, darling.” he said coyly, before spreading his palm; waving it gracefully in a practised half-crescent. You gasped, eyes widening as a huge frigate vessel painted itself into the air before you, moving from left to right. Its mammoth form rippled across the ocean below it, as still as glass. Barnacles clung to the black hull, rigging rising to the moon as it assembled itself like a mirage dwarfing the smaller ships around you. Six huge sails unfurled theatrically with a deafening roar, catching against the breeze; flickering, before the vision settled. Muted thumps sounded as a dozen canons came into view, slotting against shadowed gunports carved into the side. A flag blew proudly at the bow, despite the lack of strong wind. You squinted, making out a skull with two daggers through the eyes bathed in the bright light of the moon. Your mouth hung open, before you felt the pirate’s fingers nudge it closed. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Madam.” he whispered, as a gangway appeared by your feet. “Who a-are you?” you choked, feeling your feet drawn up the narrow walkway of their own accord. The man said nothing, following behind with a hand lightly clasped to your waist. You drew your skirts up, stepping onto the deck with trepidation. The air was eerily still, a warm calm infusing the air like static. The Captain’s heavy steps came to a stop, his breath fanning your cheek. The only sound was the light jingle of the gold woven into his hair; melodic and ghostly. “Come.” he murmured, winding his fingers through yours. The cool metal of his rings stung against your skin, clasping tightly. He led you across the ship to the steps up towards the quarterdeck.

“Where are the crew?” you questioned quietly, seeing the man shoot a glance over his shoulder with a coy smile as he led you up the steep steps to the next level of the boat. His eyes caught yours, dark in the shadow of the moon, before fluttering downward. “Do you wish me to open your mind this night, Madam?” the figure purred, releasing you with a flourish, making you stumble against the helm.

Your fingers wrapped around the raised wooden nodules, making the wheel sway with your weight. “I think...you have already..I don’t know what you are but-and why do you only show up every five years...what is this?” The pirate placed a finger on your lips, pressing his hips to yours. The heavy buttons of his tunic dug against your ribs as he lifted his hat and threw it to the wooden slats below. “I have other business to attend to during my absences, which does not concern you.” he said sharply. “Your little corner of this world offers...freedom. And I enjoy bestowing it on those like yourself. Constrained, but yearning for more...” he muttered, sliding the finger under your chin and raising it to meet his gaze. Those piercing eyes searched yours, hunting for resistance. He found none. The ruffles of his sleeves scraped your cheeks as he cupped your face in his palms, pressing his mouth to yours in a dirty kiss. The pirate’s warm tongue slipped around your own, deep moans rumbling from his chest as the heavy protrusions from the ship’s wheel pressed into your back.

You ran your hands beneath the waistcoat. The baggy shirt tucked into his leather trousers came away with a tug, allowing your wandering fingers to brush against his lower back. He pressed his tongue deeper as your fingernails scraped down, hips rocking into your body.

For the first time, you felt something hard and furious press against you, a ravenous pillar of flesh ready to ruin what was left of any innocence you might have. The legend itself. “W-where...where are your crew?” you panted slowly as you both broke for breath. His hair hung in messy tendrils around his jaw, medallions glinting in the cool light. A condescending smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes narrowed playfully. “My dear, they’re already here. Can’t you feel them?” he hummed, making a violent shiver roll down your spine. A low whistle sounded from the starboard, followed by another lower pitched call in response from the crows nest. Your head whipped back and forth, trying to track the fleeting noises. Another low, long whistle. And then another. Bodies began to appear like smoke in the darkness, shapes forming from shadows turned flesh. Your breaths became short as figures appeared leant on barrels; hung against rigging, stood on the very planks you had trod only minutes before.

His crew were dressed in seafaring garbs, scarves wound around their heads, ribbons holding back dark locks or falling in salt-clumped wisps. In their hands they held their work, seeming to have stopped their ghostly duties in mid-stride. Every set of keen eyes was trained on you; pinned helplessly by their captain at the ship’s wheel. There were dozens of them, all different and yet-

Him. They were all him. “Sir…” you whispered, fear washing over you as another warm breeze rolled across the quarterdeck. The Captain let out a mirthless laugh, rubbing his long cock against your thigh through the rough fabric. “They will not harm you, they are under my command.” he whispered in your ear, a clutch of medallions in his hair nestling in the hollow of your collarbone. “But they do like to watch.” “W-who...what are you?!” you gasped, as one of his hands slid firmly down your waist, grasping at the lengths of your skirts. “So many questions, and yet so little capacity to truly understand.” he murmured, finding purchase on the soft flesh of your thigh. In a moment of panic, you slapped him. He rubbed the skin, stepping backwards with a smirk. You grabbed a fistful of the skirts at your thighs, barrelling down the stairs to the main deck; pushing past the ghostly figures you soon discovered were all too real. You jumped as one appeared to the gangway, reclining shirtless across the gap to the exit with a bottle of rum swinging between lightly clasped fingers. Another gasp escaped you, seeing his carved stomach muscles clenching in the soft Caribbean moonlight. This figure’s hair was tied back in a faded silk ribbon, the pantaloons wrapped around his bare midriff fluttering in the breeze. Stumbling backwards, you tripped on a raised grate. You screamed, visions of unceremoniously breaking your neck on the deck of an impossible ghost-ship flashing through your mind in freefall before feeling the wind knocked out of your lungs.

A strong arm had wrapped around your waist, swinging you upwards into the endless starry night.

One of the Captain’s identical minions clasped you to his chest with his other hand wound around a long-line of rope from the mast-line. His wild hair whipped backwards, exposing familiar jagged cheekbones set in a grimace as you screamed into the night. You buried your face in his neck, feeling a soft chuckle radiate through his shoulder.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your stomach flipped as the two of you swung backwards; landing with a heavy thump on the quarterdeck at the Captain’s feet. “Thank you.” their leader muttered, pacing calmly in a circle with his hands clasped behind his back. The crewman nodded, his boots thumping softly as he descended the staircase back to his post. “Madam, I told you; you are under no obligation to me. You are free to go if that is what you wish, you only have to say the words. But I must insist that etiquette is observed. No brutishness, as you say, will be tolerated.” You looked up, hair sticking to your lips and strewn across your forehead. The man’s angular face was ethereal against the night sky; his fairness luminescent as he extended his hand in front of your wide-eyed stare. “Adventure.” he murmured knowingly, making a thrill race through you. Had you not known that the legends were true? Is that not why you had come? “Show me…” you whispered, rising to your feet with your head held high. “Show me why they talk of you the way they do.” “Madam, I thought you would never ask.” he purred. He stepped towards you, making you automatically shuffle backwards. Your spine met the mizzenmast with a thud, the boning of your corset sitting tight against the thick wooden pole as he pressed closer. Your fingers flew to the cords of the trousers, untying them frantically as he hissed above. His hair fell around your downturned face, the two of you watching his mighty cock released from the confines of the leather. The hem of the billowing shirt fell messily around his hips, the sight making your breath hitch. “As I said. Verifiable, Madam.” he chuckled, echoing your earlier scepticism of his moniker. A whimper slid past your parted lips as you wrapped your whole palm around the girth. “You will always remember the night you were fucked by Long-Dong Laufeyson, I promise you.” he murmured solemnly into your groan of anticipation, long fingers digging into the soft flesh at the back of your thighs. With the smallest of jumps, your calves were bound tight around his hips; the long skirts of your dress falling obediently to the sides. His wide tip slid across your messy entrance, nudging inward. “Are you ready to be freed, pet?” he hummed. A series of pants and gasps of approval were all your could muster as he began to squeeze his thick cock inside your tight heat, every inch making your eyes roll back further as you arched against the mast. “C-captain…” you keened, relishing the shudder of desire racing up his body as he bottomed out with a guttural moan. One of his hands steadied your hips against his own, the thick metal of his rings digging into the curve while the other found it’s way to the mast above your head.

His hips pumped upwards in slow, devastating thrusts; circling methodically as his length dragged against every pocket of pleasure buried deep inside. “G-gods..” he stammered nonsensically, the scrape of his fingernails on the wood above your head making you buck into him. His moans were primal, the tilt of his jaw to the sky drawing you forward to suck the irrisitable pulsing vein on his neck. You wound your hands in his hair, catching on the golden medallions woven through it. He hissed as you tugged gently, the jingling of the metal punctuating every measured mount of his cock into your soaking pussy.

“More…” you whispered between high pitched whimpers of pleasure. You could see several of his crew members out the corner of your eye leaning observantly against the side of the boat, silently watching their Captain at work. “More?” he growled, “My Lady…you are a mischievous one, aren’t you?” You whimpered again, feeling the crest of climax swelling.

“One for me, then one for them. Do we have an accord?” he purred knowingly, squatting lower before pumping upwards. The movement shoved you higher on the mast with a cry of pleasure, your hands flying above your head around the thick column of wood. The Captain’s grip pinned you in place, fucking you mercilessly over the precipice with a garbled moan of curses to the night sky. You saw stars behind your eyelids as he hummed approvingly, milking the leaking arousal from your core onto his manhood with slow thrusts before letting you slide gently to meet the solid deck below. “Gentleman.” the Captain commanded, a casual wave of his hand summoning two of his duplicates from their positions lounged at the side of the ship. A third appeared ascending the steps to the quarterdeck, the shirtless crewman who had blocked your earlier misguided escape attempt. The Captain slid his manhood from between your legs, his hand immediately taking the place of where your pussy had gripped it moments before. You watched in heady awe as the shirtless duplicate lay down on his back upon the deck, propped up on his elbows just below the ship’s wheel. The moonlight caught every ripple of muscle across his clenched abdomen, raven hair falling in tendrils from its silk tie. He raised his knees, eyebrow arching as he ran a lustful gaze over your bedraggled form. His two fellows stood to either side, waiting for their orders. “I think they wish to see what’s beneath those pretty skirts, darling. Indulge them, won’t you?” the Captain coyed, beginning to unlace the corset bound to your chest with the hand not slowly palming along his length. You followed his lead, divesting yourself of the layers of clothing that seemed unfitting in this maddening harbour of sexual impossibility. The skirts and corset pooled around your ankles, before you kicked them to the side. You stood naked in the low light of the clear night sky, moonlight bathing every inch of your body for the eyes that stared rapturously from all sides; coveting every curve. The man lying down beckoned. Your eyes flew to the Captain, now perched against a barrel. His cock was stiff with furious desire, the slow drag of his calloused fingers up the length of velvet flesh making your thighs clench. He nodded.

Silently, you made your way to his double lying on the ground; standing with your feet on either side of his torso. He made a twirling motion with his finger, and you obediently turned to face his feet before sinking down to meet his bare chest. The slick of your cum glided against his cool skin, making you rock deeper before feeling familiar hands cup your hipbones and pull you backwards. You gasped, feeling his warm tongue nestle between your folds. It flicked your clitoris, working around the delicate flesh as he discovered each curve and valley of your sex. Your hands curled against his hard stomach, grasping for purchase before a shadow covered the moon above you. Another double of the Captain sank to the deck, straddling his fellow crewman’s abdomen. He pulled you into a deep kiss, the rough cotton of his shirt catching beneath your fingertips as you ran your hands greedily over his shoulders. Fingers toyed at your hardened nipples as the form between your thighs lapped at your dripping pussy. His flattened tongue massaged and swept with delicious enthusiasm, every lick accompanied by a muffled groan of pleasure that left you desperate to flood his open mouth. But not yet, you thought desperately. Fuck, please not yet. You groaned like a whore as the crewman in front of you palmed your naked breasts, sucking needy kisses into your neck accompanied by low growls. He wanted you. They all did. He pulled you forward lightly, positioning you further on all fours. You whimpered at the loss of contact from the pirate beneath you; before his wet ministrations began again; neck craned upwards. You glanced down, seeing the clench of his abdominal muscles straining from the effort. A breathy moan from deep in your throat filled the air, making the duplicates chuckle in synchronicity. The Captain hand-fucking himself to the side was the loudest of all. “My mischievous wench…” their leader groaned, before biting his lip. His eyes were fire, the smouldering embers flickering in shadow. “You look so beautiful thus, being pleasured in the moonlight by my loyal crew...” You tore your eyes from his and glanced over your shoulder, seeing a third copy of the Captain dressed in a worn tunic and loose pants sink to his knees. Hair fell loose around his jawline, a deep scar running down one cheek. The one with his tongue slipping inside your wet heat rested back on the third’s thighs, pulling your hips back onto his flattened muscle with a strangled moan. Your vision began to blur, your disbelieving mind struggling to catch up as the new addition brought a finger to his lips and coated it liberally. His lust-filled eyes narrowed as he drew the digit out with agonising slowness, sucking in the hollow of his cheekbones. You felt climax surging, before the vision in front of you nudged your head back to face him. His tongue slid inside your mouth, caressing your nipples as tendrils of unrestrained pleasure curled through your veins. The newest member of your party began to tease at your asshole, the slippery digit massaging the forbidden entrance. You clenched, feeling the crewman between your thighs let out a grunt of anticipation as your head fell back, lips parted as whines of pleasure bounced between the sails fluttering above. A finger slid gently inside the tight entrance, curling gently against the curve of your body. His face burrowed into your neck, releasing deep moans as he pleasured you slowly to the knuckles.

The man in front sank down, latching his lips to one of your nipples and beginning to suck while rolling the other with his thumb. Shallow pants from the Captain broke through your haze, opening your eyes to meet his. His enormous cock was leaking over the tight fist slowly gliding up and down; a wet slick glistening under the light of the full moon as he watched. You raised one hand to pull the head of the man behind you further into the crook of your neck, the other winding in the dark curls of the crewman latched to your breast. Their Captain’s brow furrowed, his jaw slackening as he mirrored your expression. The grip of the crewman pleasuring your pussy tightened, his laps becoming messy and ravenous as he pushed you further to the brink.

All three worked in tandem, rocking you towards your undoing. Orgasm rose and blossomed like a tropical storm in your belly. The lustful pants of the three men were music, each a perfectly mistimed cacophony of pure sex.

With a howl of pleasure, you came undone in a mess of endless, juddering spasms. Your thighs tightened around the midriff of the man beneath you, knuckles turning white on the fists gripping the hair of the other two as they made your world disintegrate with their mouths and fingers. Through it all, your eyes never left the smouldering gaze of the Captain; the steady pace of his grip around his mighty cock never faltering. His fingers uncurled from the thick length between his thighs, before giving two short claps. You gasped as the three crewman vanished, leaving you a dripping naked mess strewn on the boards. Looking around, there was no trace of them; the eery silence of the ship returning in the pale blue light bouncing from the ocean. You looked up at the pirate captain stalking forwards, every pace of his heavy boots making unleashed desire thunder in your heart. He extended his hand, still warm from friction. The stranger pulled you to his chest as soon as your fingers met his own, a growl of desire rumbling as he ran his hands wantonly over your naked curves. A shudder ran down your spine as he gripped your ass, the sudden realisation of knowing that you would never be the same. “Who are you…?” you whispered to the breeze, expecting the same silence that had greeted you the many times before. “I am Loki, of Asgard” he murmured darkly, before placing a wet suck over the bruises appearing on your neck. You could feel the blood breaking through the vessels as he marked you with a black spot of remembrance. A curse, perhaps. You smiled against his hair, hearing the golden jangling of the medallions as he rubbed his length possessively against your mound. “I think I preferred Long-Dong...” you gasped through a giggle, before he threw you over his shoulder and turned towards a pair of ageing doors; kicking them open with a heavy thud.

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Below -

Aenor had never slept well when not even the hint of sky looked at her through a porthole window.  Deep below the Drop and further still below the dust and rock of Titan’s surface, thoughts tangled up with fears for Loki and the dreadful wants of Thanos, sleep was a scornful lover and bad friend, offering her not even a short reprieve.

The rest of the scalliwags that were now her obligation had no such difficulty.  Each of them had spent a share of time in durance vile, where prison walls kept out the comforting sky, and all of them had turned over obligation for their actions to her, so no concern or conscience kept them awake.

After a time, she rose from the thin-cushion pallet within the alcove that the Titans had offered them for their slight privacy and, stretching, walked out into the quiet of the fallen palace.

Her deck-hardened bare feet felt the cool tiles of the massive mosaic that - so the Elder Cui the Storyteller had claimed - once showed all of the Realms they knew and places even beyond their knowing.  The middle of all, in purples and golds that still shone in the murk, floated Titan.  

Great in size and beauty, there was detail of great cities and mighty forests, fields blessed with grain, and temples to gods alien and familiar.  The highest tower of all, black and violet, a church to the goddess Death.  Aenor sat and traced its limned edges, set with actual gold, jet, and amethyst.  Even after centuries one of the gemstones held a sharpened edge, and a number of drops of her blood fell and puddled on the top of the tower’s spire before she could press it with her last, clean handkerchief.

Thanos, who they called the Mad Titan, who had once been a just if stern ruler, the Elders claimed, the last in a line stretching back past even where their history began.  Wise and well-educated as a philosopher, statesman, and in the alchemical art, taught the ways of war he had always kept the peace, and had worked with tireless, perhaps dangerously tireless, vigor to ensure the lives and joy of his people.

Lady Death liked it not.  Or so he claimed.  For one day he came to where his council met dressed for war and said that through the night and for long nights before, she had whispered in his ear.  When one of his councilors, a kinsman, had asked what she had whispered Thanos drew his brutal sword and cleaved the man in twain, saying that her words were for him alone.

But that he had a word for them, and that word was war.  War with all and sundry of the other Realms, war until his Goddess bade stop.  

Upon that spot Thanos built that new, towering temple to a lover who would ne’er requite him.  No matter how many offerings of creatures taken in battle with the other Realms, sacrifices he gave to her name, or the wasteland he made of his own, exquisite Realm to honor her, she remained greedy and unattainable.  He could not kill enough to win her to his bed.  

Which had led to the Black Armada, the creation of which had stripped Titan of all she had, of lives and resources and healthful nutrients of the soil and water and fauna.  Thanos entombed the hearts of every wind master on Titan in their metallic hulls to ensure they would never be becalmed.  

Yet it made no difference.  They were too large, too heavy, to take to the skies, so Thanos and his children found a way to plunder even Titan’s ability to float.  But what they stole from her would not make them rise, and all plunged down through sky and then the Drop, on what they called the Night of Screaming.

All was lost, save the few largest buildings and those who were housed within, those in the palace and Thanos and his most loyal within the Tower of Death.

Loki had been right about the Black Armada, it, like these few ragged folk, had survived the fall.  The ships still hung in dock upon the edge of the Fallen Realm, suckling from her like leeches, preserving themselves perfectly whilst keeping Titan from ever healing herself.

Thanos had lived as well, along with those who worshiped him and did his bidding as he did his goddess.  For these years they had tried dark magic, cruel science, and brute force to raise the Armada and ravage the skies for Death.  He had come close and close again, but he needed one who could grasp the wind and in the magic-parched Realm, none were left nor born that could do so.

Yet now Loki had most courteously delivered himself, the most powerful Wind Master in all of the Realms and perhaps in history as well, to the grasping fist of the Mad Titan.  

Oh, Loki my love , Aenor thought, a tear and then another diluting the stain of her blood upon the image of Lady Death’s tower, why could the skies we had not been enough?

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Loki sat up and turned to comfort Aenor, for he was certain she was crying and then recalled to himself where he was.  

The new cell he had been granted was finer and had more comforts than the one he’d woken in before, yet the lock was still on the other side of the door so a cell it remained.  High above him a small window let in the murky light of the rush-lit hallway of the massive warren of caves and caverns the King of Titan called his home.  

Though he did not trust Thanos, it was more in the perfunctory way he trusted no one.  The Titan had made no claims to mercy, decency, or any other thing that kings lied about with astonishing regularity.  As such Loki found him refreshing as well as terrifying.  There was no reason to suspect that he did not mean to give Loki all that he promised, even as there was no reason to believe he would.

No matter , Loki thought.  He was in no position to disagree with Thanos, not should he wish to keep his own will.  Moreover, the portrait painted in his thoughts of Odin knowing that defeat came at the hands of his unfavored child, whilst Aenor sat enthroned at his side for decades and perhaps longer still, should he find a way to turn the tables on Thanos, was as enticing as any sweet sin.

Or so the little breeze that whispered in his ear told him.

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