AN: a MCU-verse story featuring Nick Lawson (aka "son of Law"), who is basically my vision of Marvel!Niki.

Nick is a hyper-empathetic sociopath with a special skill: he can enter a person's mind and by controlling it he can make his victim do whatever he pleases, like a puppet. He used to serve as a weapon for some terrorist organisation, and now he works for Shield. He's also completely obsessed with Thor, as you can probably tell from the short story below. Enjoy.

Warning: male x male homosexual themes, Thor x OC (Nick should count as an OC, I believe, he's not that much like Niki anymore) pairing.

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So you’re still here, after all.

I don’t know which time it is that I’ve woken up this night. I must have stopped counting around about fifth. I can’t even check the time, because I’ve got my left hand buried under your head and to look at my wristwatch I’d have to wake you up. Then again, I’m not so sure if I still have that left hand at all. Under the pressure of your head, it’s gone so numb that it may as well have fallen off of my arm by now. And this thought doesn’t even worry me as much as it should, and do you know why is that?

Because I have that sculptured body of yours all to myself, with all of its warmth and strength, and I swear to you, I swear with the seriousness I’ve hardly ever been capable of in my whole life, that my left hand isn’t worth it to risk losing it all for even a couple of seconds.

To tell you the truth, what really makes me so tense is the thought that when you wake up, do a recount of the events and remember what we’ve been doing here, first you’ll get off of me in panic, and then you’ll throw me on the other bed. Or worse, you’ll throw yourself on the corridor, because you won’t be able to bring yourself just to look at me and to remember with all the details how much I turned you on just a little while ago. Maybe you’ll feel ashamed and humiliated. Maybe you’ll think that never before in your godlike majestic life have you fallen so deep. Or maybe, depending on those extraterrestrial social conventions of Asgard which I haven’t really investigated yet, you could even decide that a demon must have possessed you, possibly one which I have sent upon you, so not even in a slightest way can you be held responsible for the fact that you’ve just fucked me with gusto and desire I could never have imagined. Or maybe… or maybe it won’t be that bad now, I don’t know. The truth is that everything felt beautiful, just too beautiful, and these emotions, these memories are still too fresh for me to afford saying goodbye to them. I still have this wet, hot sensation inside me, and my body remembers your each and every single movement. When I lick my lips, I can still recall the taste of yours. And the very memory of your hoarse voice calling in my ear that you wanted “another” round is sending shivers down my spine. Your weight protects me instead of being a burden, giving me this extraordinary satisfied feeling of belonging and security. I’m not ready yet to say goodbye to any of this. I’m not.

Funny thing is that even though I can see through virtually any emotion which any person projects at the given moment, this gift is not of much use to me when I’m trying to predict the future. Human emotions are unpredictable, even those of my own, as I’ve uncannily found out on more than one occasion, much less those belonging to anyone else. And this is why I can’t be sure what’s going to happen when you’re awake. Will you not give a damn about me, or will you try to forget us, will you be repulsed by us? Or maybe you’ll just act as if nothing happened and everything will go back to normal? I know nothing, and ignorance is something that has always made me uncomfortable. And at the same time, some part of me desperately yearns to have control over the situation and over what you’ll be feeling from now on. I want to make you stay. I want it to last. The exact thing that was to be expected, this very thing right now is coming true: I’ve relished in something exquisite, something that seduced me, and now I don’t feel like letting go. And that feels dangerous.

It’s time to face the truth: I’m scared.

I’m scared it’s over.

Even though I have all that happened still living on inside me, and I’m still holding you in my arms, feeling your warmth, your breath rustling in my hair, the movements of your chest rising and falling together with my head I’ve laid on it – I’m already choking on the anxiety about the moment when it all disappears. That’s not a good omen, but then again I don’t really feel surprised or worried, either. After all, this night wasn’t the first time when I realized how strong you get to me, and the way I fell right now was predictable.

I knew what I was getting myself into the moment I decided to persuade you to have me. I also knew that whatever it was that I had to lose, the prize I could earn would be something that could keep me alive for the years to come. I was aware that “after” I could be much more scared than “before”. As well as of the fact it really was a reasonable price for being yours.

I’m moving the back of my hand down your breastbone and belly in a search for a tangible proof that I’ve still got you here. Your skin is rough and the muscles underneath thick and ample – they’re perfectly shaped, awe-inspiring, but at the same time defending you from any outsider’s intrusion. That’s curious. I’d already felt the same way when I first met you, back when I was, as they say, a terrorist, and you were my prisoner. The similarity lay in the point that I was awed by your face, by your crystal-clear eyes, infinitely sincere and full of pride and willpower, which as much as seemed to cry out loud that you had nothing to hide – and yet you didn’t let me break into your mind. You’ve been the first and so far the only one ever to have resisted that unique, and supposedly dark, power of mine.

Your eyes invited me to get to know you, but you weren’t going to let anyone do that uninvited. I won’t show you anything, you won’t find out anything unless you deserve it – you seemed to be telling me.

And for the first time in forever, a thought occurred to me that actually yes, I did want to deserve it. And most of all – that I didn’t want to corrupt you nor damage you. That I didn’t want to tread on your fiery unyielding spirit by breaking into your head and making you do the things for which you’d loathe yourself forever, while that flame in your crystal blue eyes would die out irreversibly.

And so I decided I’d rather deserve you.

I must confess with some degree of satisfaction that I did pretty good. True, it may be far from perfect. After all I’m still what they used to label as a narcissistic sociopath. But still, given my history and my possibilities, I think I’ve managed to achieve quite a lot when at your side. I’ve had you let me in.

Whenever we’re united and you’re holding me close to you, with each motion diving deeper into me, discovering who I am and becoming my self – then in turn I become your self: I can feel what you feel, I want what you want, all carved in those few simple movements, basic instincts that make us identical. I’ve never felt this close with anyone else. I’ve never got to know anyone as well as that, even at those times when I used violence to break into someone’s brain. Perhaps this is the exact thing that I was meant to learn from you – that in fact the only way that works to get into someone’s head and see the world through their eyes is to come there invited by them.

It was a pretty revealing lesson of humbleness to me, after twenty-some years of firm convictions that I cherished, further endorsed by plenty of self-righteous experiences, which kept telling me that I have the ability to figure out, bare and trample on anyone I wish, to any degree that I wish, and maybe only at times it’s a matter of investing a bit more time and effort into it.

I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring, and a part of me doesn’t like it. It keeps trying to object against it. Because for one part I’d really like to hope that it’s not the end yet, and the first thing I’m going to hear in the morning will be that hoarse “another!” demanded straight into my ear – but still I choose to remember how unlikely this would be, just in case. I mean, in case my groundless hopes soar, lest the disappointment should make my thoughts and actions slide out of control.

No, it’s not much of a pleasure, but I still prefer to explain to myself that it’s just the way things are, and not to expect much else. So tomorrow we’ll get up, clean up and dress up, we’ll go back to the Shield headquarters in New York, and you’ll come back to her. Why should I count on anything else in first place? I’ve got more than enough. And why should I ask for more, or miss things already gone? That’s the nature of time itself: it takes away every precious moment, leaving us with nothing on our hands; no matter if your desire comes true just once or a million times, the time will be sure to come and take it away all the same.

The only place where those happy moments are safe are our minds. There we can keep them fossilized as memories, and you have my word that nobody can ever steal my memory of this night away from my mind, as long as I have any power over my own life left.

… Now it’s just perfect, you’ve rolled over from your side to your stomach and now you’re crushing me. Then again, it may not be all that bad, as soon as I can catch my breath. At least now I can finally lift my hand from the pillow and take a look at my wristwatch, except that I’m not really curious what time it is anymore. I prefer to use my left arm to wrap it around your shoulders. I’m pulling you closer to me, and this indescribable feeling of your strong, even heartbeat radiating through my skin begins to overwhelm me again. Your heartbeat strengthens mine as it echoes powerfully in my feet and fingertips, in my temples, in my blood, in my whole body. Those cliché cheesy little sayings about hearts beating as one have suddenly gained their shape and meaning to me.

The weight of your body constrains my movements, but that doesn’t bother me. I’m not going anywhere anyway. On the contrary, this way I find it easier to enjoy how close you are to me, to take delight in this raw, private sensation of your body covering mine. Your stubble scratches my neck, your breath tickles my earlobe, your hair rubs my face and neck. I feel like right now we’re making a completely different world, a dimension of our own, where no stranger has any access to.

I’m afraid to move, to even shrug a little bit in a moment like this, when everything is so surreal in its perfection. I’m afraid that even the pettiest thing could ruin our private world and bring it back to the state of nonexistence as soon and as suddenly as it was brought to life. However, I finally convince myself to close my eyes, drawing my lips towards your forehead. Wrapped in your warmth, I’ve finally come to understand that something this intense cannot be annihilated nor shaken off so easily.