Musing

A human with abilities that set you apart from the rest of your kind, yes. But human nonetheless.

A ripple courses through the air and the candles lit throughout the room suddenly blow out all at once as your wards are rendered useless. You don’t have to look up from your book to know that he’s standing just a few feet behind you.

Every fiber of your being screams to run over to him. To run your fingers through his hair and feel his arms around you - but he’s kept you waiting for weeks. You can hold out for a few more minutes.

The floorboards creak as he takes a step forward.

“My heart,” he hums, amusement in his voice. “Was that truly necessary?”

You snort softly, shutting your book without turning to look at him. “You’re late. Two weeks late, in fact.” Another creak of the floorboards as he steps closer. Your breath hitches.

“Ah,” he muses, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “So this is my punishment, then. Cold shoulders and flimsy wards.” You sense his presence looming directly behind you now.

You keep your eyes locked on the dwindling embers within your fireplace, fighting against the way the corners of your lips threaten to tug upwards. “You kept me waiting.”

“I did,” he concedes, voice velvet-smooth. “And what must I do to earn your forgiveness, hm? Shall I plead? Shall I grovel at your feet? Perhaps I should have come bearing gifts.”

Finally, you tilt your head upwards to look at him. He smirks down at you, mischief in his eyes. “I thought gods don’t plead.”

The chair beneath you whirls in an instant, spun with a flick of his magic, and suddenly he’s kneeling before you.

“For you,” he murmurs, his hand slipping into his coat, “I would beg.”

He withdraws a small velvet pouch and sets it delicately in your palm. The weight of it feels deceptively ordinary, until you loosen the drawstrings and dump the contents into the palm of your hand.

A slender ring, crowned with a soft pink stone that glows faintly the moment your fingers brush against it.

You look back and forth between him and the ring. Your mouth hangs open, at a loss for words. “Loki…”

“It’s enchanted,” he says simply. “It will glow whenever I think of you. Which means, I fear, it’ll never stop.”

With one hand, he takes the ring from you. With his other, he takes your hand in his. As gently as if he were touching fine china, he glides the band onto your finger.

It’s ethereal. Otherworldly. You aren’t sure where he got it, but it undoubtedly is not from Earth.

Your thumb brushes over the stone, still glowing faintly against your skin. “I suppose you are forgiven,” you murmur, bringing your palm to caress his jaw. “But just so you know, a month is a long time to us mortals.”

His lips twitch, amusement sparking in his eyes at your teasing tone. “Is it, now?”

“It is when you’re missing the person you most want to be with.”

You don’t mean for the words to sound so raw and honest, but they do. The petty little charade you’d been putting on crumbles as you finally speak what’s on your heart.

For a moment, Loki is quiet, studying you as though you’ve just given him something as priceless as the orchid colored stone that now adorns your finger. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and steady.

“I’ve been alive for over a millennium,” he says, his blue eyes fixed on yours, “but this past month without you… it felt longer than all of those centuries combined.”

Your chest tightens, and you can’t help but smile. “You’re as dramatic as me sometimes. You know that?”

He grins, but it doesn’t lessen the gravity of his words. “And that,” he hums, bringing your hand up to his lips, “is one of the many reasons that we go so well together, darling.”

His hand lingers on yours a moment longer before sliding upward, tracing along your wrist, then your arm, as though he can’t help himself. By the time his fingers reach your jaw, his touch is firm, possessive in a way that sends heat rushing through you.

You lean into his palm without thinking. The tension that’s been crackling between you - equal parts mischief and longing - sparks into something more dangerous.

When his lips first brush yours, it’s tentative. But the second you kiss him back, the restraint shatters. The kiss turns hungry. Desperate. The kind of kiss that tries to erase every ounce of the last month’s absence.

His hands roam, sliding down your sides until they settle on your thighs with enough force to make you gasp into his mouth. He spreads your legs apart and leans in closer, caging you against the back of your recliner. The moan that escapes you is swallowed by him as he kisses you harder, his tongue sweeping past your lips to dance with yours.

“Too many layers,” he growls. A shimmer of green flickers through the air, and suddenly your clothes are gone, leaving you bare beneath his palms. He drags them slowly up your torso, savoring every inch of exposed skin before cupping your breasts. The groan that rumbles from his chest feels involuntary, as though the sight of you is enough to break his composure entirely.

His mouth abandons yours, trailing lower and lower - along your jawline, down your throat, across your collarbones. Hot, wet kisses leave a trail down your sternum, until he reaches your belly button.

“I’ve dreamt of tasting you,” he murmurs against your skin, “of kneeling before you like this, until you beg me not to stop.”

Your breath stutters, the heat of his words pooling between your legs as he spreads them further apart.

“Beautiful,” he rasps, leaning in until his breath ghosts over your folds. He parts you with his thumbs, then licks a slow stripe up the center, savoring the way your whole body jolts in the chair.

“Loki—” your voice cracks on his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he seals his mouth around your clit and sucks hard, tongue flicking with blinding precision.

The chair creaks under you as your hips jerk helplessly, but he pins you in place, relentless in his ministrations. The room fills with the slick sounds of his mouth working you, punctuated by your gasps and moans. He hums against you, savoring every sound he pulls from you.

It’s overwhelming - simultaneously too much and not enough. With a whimper, you seize his jaw in both hands, tugging him up for a kiss. His mouth is wet, his lips slick with you, and the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan even louder into the kiss.

You need more.

Your magic responds to your desire before you’re able to form a coherent thought. The room blurs, and in an instant you’re no longer in the chair. You and Loki tumble onto your bed in a tangle of limbs, mouths still fused together.

He pulls back with a smirk, clearly delighted. “Mm,” he hums. “My clever girl.”

Golden sparks of your magic fade, leaving you sprawled on the bed with him above you, lips swollen and slick from kissing you. He wastes no time sliding back down your body, spreading your thighs wide again with a hungry look that makes your whole body buzz with anticipation.

He begins dragging his tongue through your folds once more, lapping at you like he’s been starving for the last month. His fingers grip your thighs to hold you open, his mouth devouring you, tongue flicking and circling until you’re writhing on the sheets. He slips two fingers inside, curling them just right while his tongue works your clit, building the pressure until your body arches, teeters, and finally shatters.

You’re still trembling when he pulls away, licking his lips, eyes dark with desire. He crawls up the bed, kissing you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before flipping you onto your side and pressing his chest to your back.

“Not done with you,” he growls against your ear, his hand sliding down your body to hook under your thigh. He lifts your leg, opening you for him, and you feel the thick heat of his cock pressing against your entrance.

You’re cocooned against him, his chest hot against your spine, his breath ragged in your ear and his hand keeping your leg high as he slowly pushes inside. Inch by inch he fills you, and the angle has you gasping, nails clawing at the sheets as he bottoms out with a groan.

“Gods…” he exhales, his teeth grazing your neck as he stills, letting you adjust to the stretch. “You’re perfect like this. Mine.”

When he begins to move, the strokes are deep, gliding, each one hitting a spot that has you keening. His grip tightens on your thigh, holding you open, driving into you with controlled precision. You cry out, clutching at his arm, your head falling back against his shoulder. He kisses your temple, your jaw, your throat. “Come apart for me again,” he whispers hoarsely into your ear, snapping his hips harder.

Your orgasm rips through you, body spasming around him, clenching so tight he groans and thrusts erratically, spilling into you with a shudder, his teeth biting down gently on your shoulder as he rides it out.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of his body pressed flush to yours, and the vibrant glow of the ring on your finger that pulses like a heartbeat.

Then, he falls back against the mattress, pulling out of you. You turn around, and he tugs you against his chest, taking your hand in his and examining the ring.

“It’s stunning,” you whisper with a soft kiss to his chest. “Thank you.”

He sighs beneath you, his lips grazing your forehead. “It’s the least I could do after leaving you lonely for the last month.”

You exhale a laugh, sleep threatening to overtake you now that you’re back in his arms. “As much as I love it, I’d prefer having you over jewels, though. No matter how beautiful they are.”

You feel him smile into your hair. “How does both sound?”

“Both would be ideal.”

He cackles at that, and tightens his hold around you. “Duly noted, darling.”