Archive of Our Own

     “I lost my gun.”

The God in front of you huffs and twists around to glare at you in complete disbelief. The music is blaring down the long hallway, there are random couples kissing and grinding along the wall, and your mics aren’t working properly. As you patted yourself down - making quite a spectacle of yourself as you cupped every inch - the gun was still nowhere to be found. Unzipping your jacket just a smidge, you reach down into the valley of your breasts and move them around. Hip out, shaking of the foot, stretching of the neck. Still, nothing. “Yeah, I lost my gun.”

“How could you possibly do that? It’s a gun. It’s your main weapon,” Loki says through gritted teeth. He doesn’t look angry, more annoyed than angry, but if looks could kill…

“It’s not here,” you state the obvious. “Someone must have stole it.”

“Stark hates me. He utterly, completely, truly, absolutely hates me.”

That makes you laugh. There’s really no reason to worry: although you wouldn’t actually be considered enhanced, you did have a special skill kept secret from the general public. You lose your gun, no problem! The enemy’s gun will probably jam anyway. You trip and fall and accidentally set off an explosion? No worries! There weren’t any actual hostages or citizens nearby. You slip down the stairs? Someone just happens to be around the corner to catch you. You were lucky and relied mostly on the series of events in front of you to get you through things. It seemed only Sam and Scott truly believed in your ability; they’ve been witness to countless of weird things and how you never seem to end up with more than a scratch. Loki, on the other hand, regarded your ability as something only Gods obtain and since you were a mere mortal, your “skill” was simply coincidence. 

Rolling your eyes, you push past him and into the storage closet for some temporary cover. Loki follows you in no questions asked, but the second the door shuts he has you up against the wall with a tight grip on your upper arms. “Are you really that helpless that you lost your main weapon in the middle of a battle? How idiotic could you possibly be?”

Pushing forward with all your body weight, you shove him off. “Easy for you to say. You can conjure up your weapons. I put mine down for a second and poof.”

“Poof?”

“Poof.”

“You’re going to get us both killed.”

You stifle your laugh and push him back again. He isn’t really holding you all that tightly. “You’re not gonna let that happen. How embarrassing… Loki, the God of literal mischief, dying by the hands of a couple Midgardian gang members.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and rolls his shoulders. His nostrils flare and he shakes out his hair, strands falling over his cheeks. You notice a braid in one of those strands and it almost makes you smile. 

“I will conjure up a blade for you, human. Do you know how to use such things?”

You blink at him, completely unimpressed. “I live with two Russian spies. Yeah, I know how to use a knife for something other than cutting meat.”

“Oh-ho,” he breathes out. “But that is what you will be doing.”

“Ew,” you grimace.

“Ew,” Loki mocks. He conjures up a silver blade, more like a dagger, and places it in your palm without so much as a look up. He pulls open the closet door and rolls his shoulders again. “I don’t know how you keep coming home alive.”

Stepping out with him, you shrug lightly. “I really don’t know either.”

“If you die one of these days, I feel as though I could have prevented it.”

“You’d feel guilty? You going to protect me?”

Loki stops at the corner of the hallway where the office is currently guarded. Four guards outside, five voices inside. They have machine guns, but Loki has his magic, and you are somewhat better at hand-to-hand than shooting anyway. “Not going to protect you. I feel as if I should tell the Captain or Stark to bench you permanently for risk of you accidentally shooting yourself.”

Before you could bite back, Loki rounds the corner and the fight begins. All in all, you got out with only a bruised lip. Loki didn’t need to protect you after all, but he swears the fight could have ended five minutes earlier if you had your first weapon of choice. 

You still have no idea where that gun went. 

     “He’s a flirt out in the field.”

Loki makes this alarmed noise to your far left and Bucky just about chokes on every laugh bursting from his chest. The God is sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, shoulder-length hair not doing much in covering his increasing blush, and wearing a nice, dark navy blue suit. He kind of looks like a CEO who just heard he lost millions because of his team’s split-second decision. 

“I was not flirting. I am not a flirt.”

Rolling your eyes and waving a hand in the air, you don’t even look to him as you continue speaking. “He’s absolutely lying. God, if you could hear the way he bullies me and grips my arms to throw me around—"

“That’s quite enough.” He still looks so scandalized. Tony is hiding his face behind his hands and Bucky has already excused himself from the briefing room. You can feel the God glaring daggers through your smirk. 

“I think,” Tony tries, but a quiet laugh (that sounds like a literal whine) interrupts him. He tries again, “The mission could have gone better. I applaud you for working so well together. You won’t have to go into the field again this month unless necessary.”

“Thank the Norns,” Loki sighs and goes to stand from his chair. He’s hoping for a quick escape, but Stark never lets him go so easily. There always had to be one mortified agent or Avenger to taunt during Friday movie nights. 

“Now hold on a second.” Tony finally catches his breath. He points at you. “Your error put the whole mission in jeopardy and while I don’t take much satisfaction in saying this—” Tony clutches his chest dramatically. “You could have gotten your partner seriously hurt. You know we can’t trust your abilities fully without more experiments. Therefore!”

Oh, great. You expected a private punishment, something Loki wouldn’t have to witness. If this was anything like the time you got stuck climbing out the bathroom window in the President’s private suite, then it would be embarrassing. 

“Extra training with Cap in hand-to-hand, Wilson will get you over your fear of heights for the hell of it, and you have two days to learn how to disassemble and put together an automatic rifle — Manchurian Candidate can help with that. Anything you don’t accomplish means you no longer get to pick dinners for Friday nights.”

It was such a mild punishment for putting a teammate’s life in danger and jeopardizing a mission. Well, to anyone who didn’t know you, at least. Steve hit hard, you were terrified of heights, and rifles… really? You lose your food day and you’ll have to suffer Steve’s choice restaurant of fish and chips again. And that place never used salt. 

The threat still causes your mouth to drop due to Tony’s fucking audacity. “You wouldn’t.”

“We don’t just lose our guns out in the field. I could take this all the way up to Fury…”

“Nope, I got it,” you stutter out really quickly. “All good.”

Tony nods happily and leaves you alone with Loki, who’s still gripping the door handle mid-exit. There was absolutely no point for him to stay and hear that, and Loki knows it too, because he’s grinning from ear to ear. 

“I cannot believe you’re surprised by such a minuscule repercussion.”

“I cannot believe you’re still here.”

“Darling, to hear you’re being punished because you put my life in danger… well, it’s quite sensual wouldn’t you say?”

Standing from your seat and giving him a straight middle finger, you push past him and to the elevator. “Sensual? I’m basically being put in time-out. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

“And what if I had actually gotten hurt?” He jogs into the elevator and ignores the way you quietly groan because of it. “What type of punishment would you have gotten?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Never gotten a punishment that’s been horrible.” You’re avoiding eye contact, he notices this. He enjoys this game of cat and mouse with you. Everyday it’s something different. 

‘Loki, get your dirty feet off my dash.’

‘Loki, I swear to whatever Gods exist in this universe, I’ll poison you if you steal any more cookies from that tray.’

‘Stab me, I dare you. Natalia will kill you six different ways within the hour.’

Oh, yes. He thoroughly enjoys this. The heat in your eyes and how they widen when you’re arguing. The way you run your hand through your hair and tug near the base of your neck. The way your hip juts out when you’re the one mocking him. The tremble in your voice as it grows louder but not from nerves, rather a tremble from the strain in your throat. Tiny fists clenching and playing with your jacket zippers or picking at your cuticles. He really enjoys pushing your buttons. 

“That’s a pity. I can think of a few punishments that fit the crime.”

The elevator dings. “Oh, going all fifty shades on me?”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Loki says, catching the doors from closing as you step out onto your floor. “My punishments would be rather enjoyable.”

“Your punishments?” You push out a laugh and wave goodbye as you open your bedroom door. “In your dreams, Loki.”

     Sam chooses to start a mini-series rather than put on a movie this Friday night. Bridgerton, Sam sounds out as he clicks through the home screen, Hey! There’s black people dressed as royalty in this!

Tony lets you order your Mexican food anyway but reminds you that your first sparring lesson with Steve starts tomorrow. 

Three episodes in and everyone is insanely intrigued. Dishes are passed around, plates piled high, and even Loki looks rather interested in the show’s plot. He mumbles over to Thor every once in a while, complimenting the attire or the delivery of some line, and it’s worrying how many times you have to hide your smile through it all. 

When the sex scenes start, everyone’s eyes are blown wide. They’re choreographed to an extreme degree and are rather long sequences. Bruce adjusts his glasses every other exaggerated moan; Natasha is recording Steve’s reaction to it all; Bucky and Sam are nodding in approval and piling food into their mouths; Thor is tilting his head and trying his best to cover Wanda’s eyes, even though she’s slapping his eyes away; Tony’s commenting on every single damn movement; and Loki, well, Loki’s looking between the screen and you. 

Everytime a scene ends, the team gets a breather. But the show is dedicated to making sex a main plotline and the team goes crazy again. Every single damn time, Loki looks over at you. 

When the Duke instructs Daphne on how to pleasure herself, you’re in need of some air. “Gonna go get more food.” Your whisper goes unheard, however, as everyone is leaning closer to the screen. 

You’re in the middle of pouring yourself lemonade when you feel a presence behind you. Putting the lemonade down quickly, you spin on your heel with the thought of screaming about the fright. But once you’re turned all the way, Loki’s palm goes to cover your mouth and his body pushes against yours and into the counter. He’s significantly taller, much more intimidating pressed against you, and his eyes are sparkling with that mischief you’ve all become cautious of. 

He waits until you’ve stopped fidgeting to speak. “I have a punishment in mind.”

Forcibly pulling his hand away is a challenge, but he lets you overpower him. “Really? Are you serious right now?”

Your voices aren’t loud; in fact, you’re practically whispering in each other’s ears. 

That sparkle shines brighter. “What? You think I was just going to let it go?”

“What in the world makes you think I would ever fuck you, Loki?”

“I haven’t even told you what my punishment entails, and yet, you’re the one who offers it,” Loki smirks. He’s all suave and confident but there’s a tint of pink reaching his cheeks. It flusters him, hearing you talk that way, but his hips are pressed against yours and he figures he still has the upper hand. 

“What do you want me to say? Fuck me? Punish me? Use me?” You don’t know why you’re saying these things. The easy thing to do would be to walk away or talk louder — maybe that’ll attract attention and Loki will be too flustered to continue this spiel. 

“Keep talking like that.”

There it is. Still, his cocky grin is making the fire in your head burn harder. Every pull of his thin upper lip simply sparks more agitation. “Bite me, Loki. I’m not someone who just fucks and drops the person.”

He shrugs almost nonchalantly. “So, don’t drop me. We’re both adults, we’re working people with cravings and desires. There doesn’t need to be more to this.” He runs his thumb along your jawline and hooks it underneath your chin, tilting your head up higher to meet your eyes. “And I would very much like to bite you. After everything you put me through… Oh, I’d really like that.”

You’re silent for a moment, processing his words to the brim. You hadn’t had a relationship in so long (there was never any time with how often aliens fell from the sky) and no one was exactly lining up to sleep with you. So the pleasurable twinge near the base of your stomach startles you and pulses harder when Loki experimentally rolls his hips against yours. Widening your eyes, you refuse to look away from his forceful gaze. If you were to do that now, he’d know he has you wrapped around his finger. 

But the processing comes to halt as you realize what he has just offered. It actually makes you stifle a loud laugh. “Is a literal God of Norse mythology offering up the possibility of a ‘friends with benefits’ type deal? Is this seriously happening to me right now?”

“You’re thinking too much of it.” He doesn’t seem fazed at all. 

“And? Loki, you wanted to kill me yesterday. I wanted to kill you. And now suddenly—”

“Suddenly, I want to ravish every inch of your skin and show you how a God kneels to his priestess.”

You study him carefully. His breath is coming out shorter than usual, his hands are gripping the sides of your hips the slightest bit tighter, and his eyes are darting back and forth between yours. Your mouth twitches into a knowing smile. “Oh my god, the show turned you on!”

He’s quiet in his movements. Stealthy, but you blame the magic mostly. Everyone is so fascinated by the show that no one hears the palms of your hands smacking to catch your weight as Loki shoves you around. His chest is now connected to your back and he makes it plainly obvious that he’s enjoying making you submit. There are a lot of things you said you’d never do and this was one of them… Those simple checkboxes are gripping that pleasurable coil, heating it to the extreme, and threatening to snap it apart. Or maybe it already has, because there’s discomfort in your underwear and it takes only a moment for you to feel your excitement pass through you and settle on the once virgin lace. Loki has a hand covering your mouth and his other pressed firmly against your stomach. “Careful, pet. Any more teasing and I might just have to fuck you right here, right now.”

“Mmpf.”

He chuckles, hot breath hitting your ear and making your eyes roll back. He continues, voice lower and hoarse. “When’s the last time you’ve been properly fucked?”

You could fight. If you even attempted to escape his hold, Loki would let you go. There would be no actual struggle. But he speaks and his voice melts against your skin like candle wax and tickles your common sense dumb. “I bet it’s been ages. It’s been ages for me too, I hate to admit.”

He rolls his hips, flat against your ass, and that has you purring quietly. Your eyes dart to the door where anyone can walk through and refill their drinks and plates. One simple flap, just push open those conjoined doors, and see you bent over the counter with Loki directly behind you, at his mercy and ready to be fucked senseless. He doesn’t even give you time to respond, your purring is enough, and he dares trail his long fingers to the button of your pants. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me fucking you on this counter while everyone watches? What would your precious Captain say? Natalia?”

He pops them open, pausing momentarily in case you fight against him or make a different type of noise. But all he feels are your rapid exhales against his hand and the roll of your hips against him. He smiles down to where he’s pressed against you, watching you work yourself up little by little, but decides not to comment directly on that. He’ll let you have your fun — he’s not a complete ass. Plus, the feeling of your plump ass against his hardening cock is bliss written in fucking devilry. 

“What would they say, hmm? I’m one hundred percent certain they would beg me for a turn.”

You moan loudly but quickly whimper in horror, eyes wide with worry that the team has finally overheard you. Loki wastes no more time, dipping his fingers into the tight constraints of your pants and your underwear to swipe an innocent finger across you. He’s immediately met with a growing pool of excitement. “Oh-ho! That’s actually exciting you? You think you’re lucky enough to keep quiet? Who would you let fuck you first? Hmm? Wilson? Barnes? Barnes hasn’t been with anyone for so long. He’d absolutely destroy you.” 

There’s both ice and fire in your head and in the next moment, that combination is drowning your legs, your arms, your toes. It almost burns through your skin, begging to escape such tight confines but its inability to do so is what’s also getting you off. Loki dips his finger deeper and circles back up to quickly find your clit. He rubs expert circles, tiny but quick, and has to shut his eyes from crying out himself as you involuntarily buck back against him. You’re a whimpering mess and the noises are shocking him with insane excitement. He too feels too hot and too cold at the same time. It’s the first time he’s seeing you like this and he couldn’t have imagined how ravishing you would actually look. 

Now here you are, hair sticking to the light moisture of your forehead, absolutely drenched and dripping onto that poor lace Loki simply wants to bundle up and wrap around his hand as he strokes himself to completion later. He can feel your heartbeat in your clit and it’s killing him, turning him red inside and out and it takes all the willpower he has kept locked away for the last hundred years not to tug your clothing aside and fuck you rough. 

“But that’s not enough, hmm? Who else?” He’s circling quicker, relishing in the muffled squelching noises bouncing off the kitchen walls. He knows you probably hear them too even if your ears must be pounding. He feels your lips try to part behind his palm. “Who else?”

You rut faster, not caring about anything else but getting off. It’s so incredibly hot — Loki’s voice is doing it perfectly well indeed — and you’ll hate yourself in the morning but fuck it all. You haven’t gotten off with a partner in so long and feeling someone else’s fingers instead of your own has turned your brain to jelly. 

Then Loki presses his whole body down on top of you, effectively caging you underneath him and pressing you against the cold granite. The coldness hurts your heated skin; it’s burning through your shirt. And Loki rubs fast, faster, faster and dips low to speak directly in your ear. “My brother?”

Now you try to wiggle free because what the fuck. 

“No, I don’t think I would let him have a turn. You’re mine to annoy, mine to tease.” He takes the top of your ear gently between his incisors. “Mine to fuck.”

His hand muffles your quiet screams as you come on his waiting fingers. He dips them in and collects all you give him, spreading it over your mound, and finally lets you go. He wonders if you’ll march right out of here and report him, or pretend this never happened, he doesn’t know. But you’re still bent over the granite and breathing heavily. Slowly, ever so slowly, you use whatever strength you can muster up and turn around. 

Loki takes the opportunity to take his wet fingers in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them, sucking and releasing them only to hold them straight and run his tongue along their length. He’s sucking his own fingers, hollowing his own cheeks around them like he would a cock, minus the deepthroating and gagging. 

He laughs when he notices how black your eyes are. “Enjoy that, darling?”

Your chest heaves and it surprises you that you can even form a coherent sentence. “What the fuck?”

“Please tell me if I overstepped.”

The disbelief on your face must have worried him, because he pauses his antics and increases the distance between the two of you. 

“I just wasn’t… expecting that.”

He hides it only slightly, but there’s genuine worry in his eyes. “If I overstepped—”

“It’s fine, uh, just go back to the show.”

He reaches out to take your hand but retracts it immediately. You give him the most awkward smile in history and haul ass to your bedroom. Loki doesn’t exactly know what to do so he rejoins the group, who are about the most oblivious people he’s ever met, and continues the show. They must have heard something… you two couldn’t have been that lucky.

     It’s irrational, but Loki is the one who starts to shy away from you all week. Each glance, each ‘hello’ in the morning, each and every breath you hear him take makes you want to pounce. It’s irrational, and sure you’ve thought about Loki this way before during some pretty desperate ruts of loneliness but oh my gods, did you want to fuck him for real this time. 

It’s obvious he’s avoiding you because he believes he’s misstepped. And it’s not like you’ve been trying to avoid him too. You’ve asked Thor if he noticed Loki acting strangely, sat near him whenever you found yourselves eating lunch at the same time, and even cracked a joke in his direction during a briefing. Still, Loki smiles sheepishly and politely responds. 

You’re even, irrationally, fucking angry that he’s so goddamn perfect. Gentle and kind with his attitude even after he rubbed one out of you with such precision… like he was born to pleasure his partners until they saw black spots. It makes you angry that after all that talk, he shies away and expects your relationship to be awkward forever? What kind of guy — even if Loki isn’t a guy persay — does that? And you weren’t going to back down. Nope, not after knowing what his chest feels like pressed against your back, or how his long fingers feel spreading your cunt open, or how much heat his body radiated when he too was worked up. 

It’s literally not fair. 

But you’re lucky and you know that if you really doubled-down you could get him alone, easily. You allowed him his space.

The rest of the team was either in the indoor gym, out to lunch, or on the outside track when you decided enough is enough. Loki only ever spars with Thor and since Thor was getting lunch with Bruce downtown, Loki was free. 

He’s in Tony’s lab (where Tony surprisingly isn’t) and hears you come in when you shut the door. Not that it makes any difference or creates a sense of privacy - the whole room has glass walls. He pauses typing instructions into the monitor and clears his throat, bowing his head like the moron he is. 

His grin spreads like it naturally does, from root to petal, and his eyes crinkle like he’s truly pleased to see you. “Ah, I was hoping to run into you today—”

“Were you? Truly?”

He blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

You almost want to copy his smile, extend your arms like you own the room, but you opt for smirking and tilting your hip outward slightly. “Beg then.”

It’s like the air is punched out of him. He wants to reel it back in because the lack of it leaves him defenseless. His shoulders are dropped like he’s leaning into them and his knees buckle. Your voice is doing the best things to his ego, to his fogged up brain, to his desire. At that moment, he regrets ignoring you for a whole week. Because the sway of your hip, the pursed nature of your lips, even the glint in your eyes is igniting that craving he’s had for a while.  “A God doesn’t actually— “

“A God this, a God doesn’t do that, fuck off, Loki,” you interrupt, crowding his space and pushing him by the chest into the wall. He hits it gently, arms staying by his hips and eyes locked on yours. “A God also doesn’t break his word or shy away from a challenge.”

“Refresh my memory.”

He’s matching your wit. There’s a wild look on his face, like he’s ready to sink his teeth into your neck or his own hand. 

“I vaguely remember you telling me not to drop you. So, what? You fuck me with your fingers and that’s it?”

“You’re testing my patience, darling.”

“Am I? You want to know how thin my patience is right now?”

“I admit I’m curious.”

The audacity is what does it. Pushing against him so your leg slots in between his thighs, you place one hand near his neck and the other above his belt buckle. He hears the jingle and almost falls to his knees. Fighting with you is one thing, but fighting with happy endings? His mouth parts with a strangled whine as you palm his hardening cock through his pants, following the outline and studying his eyes as you do. He looks about ready to explode. 

“See? I can be a tease as well,” you say, praying your voice sounds as sultry as you think it does. Loki lets his eyes drift closed for a moment, sinking in the overwhelming feeling of your hand palming so gently and yet, so hard at once. It’s a combination that’s making his mind even more foggy and he forgets how to breathe with restraint.  “A week ago, I loved to tease you with my words. Let’s see if there’s an easier way…”

He opens both eyes, positively black, and almost groans when he sees you leaning in. “Darling?”

“Do you want me to stop?” You pause your movements, lips hovering his own.

“Gods, no.”

That’s the green light you need. You slam your lips against his and unbuckle his belt at the same time. It’s both sexy and the slightest bit sloppy, heads turning to fit the proper direction, strings of saliva connecting the two of you when you pull back for breath. You shove his pants just a little lower and stick your hand down his briefs, surprised that Loki’s wearing such casual clothing. He’s always dressed as if he’s attending some gala, but here he is so normal. At your will. “You like that? Being so exposed?” 

He whines deep in throat and tries to retract it, but the second you wrap your hand around his stiff cock he doesn’t bother. His chest heaves upward and his mouth drops open, strangled groans escaping with every dignified tug of his swollen cock. You’re still speaking but your voice seems miles away. “Didn’t think I’d like being exposed. It’s quite terrifying.” 

It registers with him that you are indeed in a very public space. He looks over your shoulder to glance at the long hallway where anyone could walk past and see him, exposed and red and dripping, whining like an omega in heat because of a human he swore he would end up killing out of pure annoyance one day. “But look at you, hard and wanting and completely at my will.”

He’s startled into a laugh. “Your tongue is going to get you in trouble.”

“Oh, is it?” You take the chance to lick a swipe from his bottom lip to his top, pressing harder against him so the harsh rub of your jeans overstimulates him. He’s leaking from the tip, swollen with such a need to burst that you figure his balls must be in the same predicament. You feel all powerful with each tug, watching as Loki so desperately tries to hold himself up against the wall and resist the urge to grind against your leg. You almost wish he would. Flames are licking up his legs that cause him to sweat, and he’s bucking his hips into your hand with some primal desperation.  “Tell me, Loki. Darling… you want to come?”

The words spilling from your mouth are making him burst at the seams. His stomach clenches involuntarily as a response and he promises himself that he’s going to box this moment with your voice and the muscle of your thigh and the grip of your hand and keep it safely hidden until the next time he needs it. “You little minx.”

“Anyone can walk past and see you.” He throws his head back against the wall and whines from both his close orgasm and the smack to his skull. This leaves his throat exposed, and he huffs out a long breath when your lips connect to the free skin. You’re marking him, he feels, and it excites him to later parade that nice purple bruise for everyone to see. “Bet there’s cameras.”

He ruts now, hips matching the pace of your hand and eagerly chasing his release. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.” You bite down and suck, and Loki just about yells. His chest rises and falls rapidly and his hips are losing their perfected rhythm. He’s scared his scream is going to shatter the glass. 

“Please teach me my lesson.”

Your smile grows slowly, teeth and all, and you slap one hand over his mouth and use some of his own accumulating slick at the tip of his cock to spread along his length. His eyes widen at the roughness but he finds himself wanting to thank you for covering his mouth. Your hand moves fast, twisting expertly and thumb sliding over his slit multiple types until he can’t handle it anymore. His knees do buckle but it’s your thigh pressed in between him that helps him to hold himself up. He shouts, long groans dragging out over the course of his release, all muffled behind your sweaty palm. His release shoots up his chest, powerful enough to even hit the skin near his collarbones, and all over your hand. You care enough not to throw him over to sensitivity, but work him so he feels you throughout his orgasm. 

Once he can feel his body again, tingles just now resigning and blurry vision correcting itself, he stands straight again. He vaguely feels you tuck him back into his pants and button him back up. 

He flutters his eyes open and by the proud smile on your face, he can imagine what he looks like: fucked to bliss. You raise your hand to your mouth where his spent drips alongside your palm and thumb. His jaw clenches and he swallows almost painfully when you lick yourself clean. He wouldn’t be opposed to having that pink tongue wrapped around his cock right about now.

You surprise him, though, by pushing him back against the wall and chuckling. “Lucky no one walked past, huh? Don’t you dare ignore me anymore.”

He sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, darling. Never.”

     “Well, would you look at that?”

The model fills in the thermometer-looking drawing with her red marker and the crowd cheers as the donations hit over five million. You roll your eyes at Tony and casually sip at your champagne. “A charity gala was completely pointless, Tony.”

“Hey, there are other charitable billionaires in the world. Doesn’t have to all come from my pocket,” Tony scoffs and cheers louder to excite the crowd. Everyone is doing their part and entertaining the guests. Steve’s buttering up the big donors and Bucky’s buttering up the wives. Thor’s getting to know the rich kids who were dragged to this event by their rich parents, and Clint’s snickering in the background each time one of those kid’s jokes flies over Thor’s head. And Loki’s relaxing at the bar, keeping a low profile as he should, but still doing the gentlemanly thing and trying to be a part of the team.

“Considering you’re one of the reasons we’re raising money in the first place—”

“Everyone uses Grand Central. Everyone was there. Don’t pin it all on me.”

“I need another drink.”

Walking to the bar seems like the most erotic thing Loki has ever caught you doing. He’s staring at you with this winning grin and it’s enough to make you weak in the knees. His suit is a dark green, tight around the thighs and biceps. His hair is loose and, dare you say, fluffed. The curls are looser than they usually are and they wave toward the same direction rather than mismatched.

He’s not the only one staring at you walking to the bar, however. Loki notices this, too. His grin turns into that famous smirk and you know he’s challenging you. Your little rendezvous the other day has only excited the both of you more: sexy looks whenever you crossed paths, heavy make-outs and petting in the corners of hallways, dialogue that would make even Thor blush. Now he’s challenging you to start the foreplay — entice him, make him jealous, let everyone know they can’t have you. You will have him tonight, you can feel it. You’re feeling lucky.

“Now, you’re the only assassin on the team that isn’t Russian.”

He seems younger than you, probably only by a year, and his eyes are a lovely milk chocolate brown. There’s, of course, that hint of want in his eyes that tells you what his true intentions are. Blond hair perfectly styled, suit tailored as perfectly as his father’s probably, and a smile that promises nothing serious.

“Mm, don’t make any bets on that. We superheroes have tons of secrets hidden up our sleeves.”

“I’d be honored to learn just one.” The man chuckles and swishes his drink. “So, how about it?”

You smirk and cast a glance at Loki, who’s smiling around the rim of his glass. “I’m surprised you don’t know anything already. Why, don’t you know I joined the team because I’m an open book?”

The man catches onto your innuendo. He blushes and smiles right back at you. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“The drinks are free. You can order me one.”

He waves the bartender down and he takes your order. In the minute you’re waiting for it, you’re half listening to what this man is saying and how Loki’s staring at you from across the bar. The champagne is placed in front of you and at the same time, Loki motions with his hand for you to get it over with. He doesn’t look jealous but rather annoyed with how slow this man is taking to get to his point.

“So, how come I don’t see you out and about as often as the others? Think I saw your friend Wanda in Vogue last month.”

“I tend to cause small mishaps everywhere I turn. It’s my skill but it hasn’t killed me yet.”

“Mishaps?”

There’s a playful glint in your eye but for a stranger like him, it looks rather alarming. “Mm, you really shouldn’t trust me with a gun.”

The man pauses and squints slightly as he scans your face. “They wouldn’t hire you as an Avenger if you were incapable of something so simple.”

Something. So. Simple. “But I suck cock so well that they don’t even think of firing me.”

The man’s mouth parts but all that comes out is, “Enjoy your drink.”

At least he’s polite about it.

Loki slides his way over. “You’re going to end up in the headlines for an entirely different reason than you want to, darling.”

“Oh, but that was fun, wasn’t it?”

Loki scoffs but there’s mountains and mountains of sarcasm in his voice. “He was a perfectly good suitor. Tall, handsome, overlooked that intimidating glare you seem to always have.”

You fake a pout, “But he didn’t even stay long enough for me to tell him it was all a joke.”

“Is it, though? You’ve lost more guns in the middle of a firefight than I care to count.”

“You know, it makes me all giddy inside that you don’t actually count them.”

He downs his drink and looks around the room before he whispers near your ear. “Are you doing anything later?”

It’s rather fun to keep this a secret from the whole team. They’re none the wiser and it ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach whenever Loki teases you right in their presence. Any day now they can turn their heads at the right moment, strain their ears to catch the talk between you two, or walk in during another pleasurable rendezvous. But they haven’t yet, and Loki thinks he’d find it quite erotic to take you in such a public area when the time for them to know is right.

“Might go to bed early. Don’t know. Why? Want me to leave my door unlocked?”

“Tempting me, are you?”

You don’t finish your new glass and instead wink at him before leaving the gala altogether.

    “Took you long enough.”

Loki’s already shedding his jacket the moment he passes through the bedroom door. “I’ll never keep you waiting again.”

It sounds like a promise because of his breathy tone and it almost makes you blush. “You sure you want to go through with all this?”

“I’m certainly not going to object.”

You give him a pointed look, “Loki.”

He takes your hands in his and caresses your knuckles. “I won’t ‘drop’ you after this. I don’t think it’d be possible for me to.”

“Too tempting for you?”

“And other things. You make me want to pull my own hair out.”

Regardless of such a gentle conversation, you know it for certain that the sex isn’t going to be vanilla. “Something every lady wants to hear.”

He grins at that and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looks at you for a long moment before leaning in ever so slightly and breathing against your lips. “Let me touch you.”

“You can do a hell of a lot more than that. Don’t think me fragile.”

He smells like whiskey and cinnamon all at once. “Never, darling.”

His kisses always start off so benign, like he’s scared of hurting you or scared of building the moment up too quickly. His lips slide against yours with intent, however, and he uses his whole body to tell you of it. His hands come up to rest on your cheeks, thumbs sweeping across your soft skin, and then they rise to the first strands of hair he’s lucky enough to touch. The moment they do though, he presses his lips even harder—a plea to taste even more of what you have to offer. You’re both breathing through your nose and trying to catch little inhales here and there whenever your lips slightly detach. He’s taking his sweet time but you know he’s only mapping out the things he’s going to do to you.

His fingers lace through all the way to the back of your neck and finally, finally, he cracks. He pulls just the slightest bit harder but it’s enough to tug your head backwards and expose your neck. A puff of air escapes your lungs but it quickly turns into a low groan when his lips reattach themselves to the sensitive skin just below your ear. He sucks and bites, body pressing you further backward until you hit the wall. His hips are slotted against yours and just like how you restricted his access, he places his right leg in between you. With him being taller, his thigh presses against your mound deliciously. You had worn a simple cocktail dress for the gala, not wanting to go all out for something so mundane, but it’s working wonders by allowing such easy access for Loki’s clothed thigh. He trails kisses down your throat and to your collarbones, tongue poking out every so often to trace the veins that aren’t visible to you. He can sense your blood rushing through your veins, he knows enough about anatomy to know where they’re located, and he follows them like a tempting path. He’s there at your neck, on your sternum, above your breasts, and then back up to your waiting lips to swallow all of your low whines.

“I want to do something,” you croak, slightly embarrassed by how gone you already sound.

“Anything.”

It takes all of your self-control not to rub it in his face that you, a Midgardian with a god-like skill, are making him wither under your touch.

“Go sit over there.”

Loki detaches from your lips, a lovely string of spit refusing to follow his lead. “Sit… over there?”

There’s a long couch pushed up against the wall that faces your bed. There’s a small coffee table in front of it and it looks rather comfortable for a day spent reading. But now you’re imagining Loki on that very couch, thighs spread wide and mouth parted while he has no other choice but to watch you enjoy yourself. “What? You think our little game is over?”

“I would quite like to know how I’m supposed to win.”

“Men. Always wanting to race to the finish line.”

“Don’t compare me to anyone else. As long as I can see you as you are, absolutely gorgeous, I’ll play whatever game you want.”

Locking your door as quickly as you could, you strip your dress. Loki follows your movements with his hungry eyes but doesn’t make a move to touch. He’s waiting for instructions. A sharp tilt of your head reminds him of what they are.

The moment you’re bare, it’s heaven. The cotton of your sheets greet you, rubbing along your sensitive skin like the caress of a hand you’ve been begging for. Loki’s hands were rough, large, with slender fingers that would definitely get the job done. He’d make sure to touch every single inch of skin available to him, he’d touch every single goosebump, and once he had accomplished that first part, his fingers would continue the torture. But would it be torture? Or undeniable pleasurable sensations that are sure to get you screaming until your lungs felt as though they were punctured through? You’ve felt them once before but never inside of you. Only teasing.

Loki sheds his top layers and unbuckles his belt. He sits far enough away that you can’t feel his presence, but close enough that you know you’re being watched.

“Touch yourself, pet. Tell me what you want.”

You already know the slope of your collarbones, the hardness of your nipples when they meet chilled air, and the dip of your hips. There’s no time to appreciate the simple things — no — your fingers immediately go to that sweet little nub in between your shaking legs. You follow his instructions promptly, dipping your fingers further in only to swipe more of your excitement higher. It does the trick and you find that you’re practically dripping. There’s stickiness attached to your inner thighs, the strings of clear arousal forming a tiny bridge that connects skin to skin, wet and becoming dry all at once. Whimpering, you spread your arousal all along your inner lips and get to work.

The very fact that Loki is inches away, spread out the same way you are and gaining his pleasure from yours is distractedly erotic, and it hypes the sensations even more. Your breath hitches when he leans his head back and releases a low moan, wet lips parting and bottom lip (dare you say) shaking. His cock is throbbing, rock hard in his grasp, and each time your finger swipes at your special spot his thighs clench involuntarily. “I want… fuck, I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckles deeply, his tongue settled on his bottom lip. “You may make me want to throw you to the nearest wolves, but seeing you spread out and needy is better than all other fantasies. Dripping, willing, absolutely begging for someone to fill you and satisfy that carnal desire God and Midgardian have alike.”

He lifts his head and meets your gaze. His eyes seem darker and there’s a thin sheet of sweat starting to appear on his forehead. His words are eating you alive. You know Loki’s a smooth talker, what with that damn silver tongue you’ve read about, but to hear it in action is overwhelming. Your fingers are just now creating a steady pace. The pleasure shoots through your clit and to the coil unraveling in your stomach, twisting and swirling with streaks of brilliant bliss that soon finds its way to your chest. Unable to contain your noises, they inch their way through your heaving chest to your dry throat and sound off in your once quiet room.

Your head rolls to the side and your heated cheek meets the cotton of your pillow. It’s almost too much. The cotton should be a welcome feeling, but it’s just making you burn faster. Your mind races, and soon the cotton is turning into the hands of a certain God you’ve come to despise and crave. It seems almost rude to imagine his pink lips trailing down your neck, bruising and sucking as he pleased, down to the valley of your breasts and wrapping around your sensitive nipples when he’s literally right there. His hand is moving faster and there’s a hint of restraint in his voice, almost like he’s covering up his own noises. He’s leaking, red at the tip and hand finding all his special places. His chest heaves brilliantly as he tugs himself, heavy and hot, noises breathier.

You aren’t much for biting, but God, did you want this God to do just that again. His hands would find a new home in your hair and they would tug, tug, pull, and fuck it if he pulled some strands loose because you’ll feel him clenching his fist around the base of your neck and pulling you up to meet him mid-thrust.

His thrusts would be…

“Fuck,” you choke and rub your clit faster. Still, you try not to apply so much pressure. If you could do this all night, you would, but the knowledge that Loki will be the one to do this in just a few minutes after you find yourself tired of the game… Your mind wanders to the image of his hand curling in your hair and pulling as he thrust into you fast and hard — would he go fast and hard? — of course he would; he’d want to fuck the disobedience out of you, the frustration he’s dealt with these past weeks. Being paired together for missions was a bad idea from the start and now you’re imagining him fucking you? Now he’s literally sitting in front of you watching as you fuck yourself?

Gods, if he was over you and fucking you his long hair would whip your cheeks as he pressed down. You’d be wrapped in his arms and he’d make sure your legs were secured around his waist as he lifted you and fucked you fierce—

“You’re awfully quiet for someone with such an active mind,” Loki pants and his hand slides up his shaft to pinch his red tip. He groans softly, “Tell me what you’re thinking, pet.”

The moan you let out is almost embarrassing, a whine more like, and your fingers dance through you nastily. Quick rolls of your sensitive clit, the sound of your arousal sticking to your fingers and thighs, hair tugging beneath your shoulders as you lifted your lower half to chase the pace. So much pleasure building, like fireworks still in your hand that you forgot to throw, gentle and jaw dropping explosions all at once—

“Loki.”

“Fuck, yes, say my name darling.”

Just as you were an expert of your own body, he was for his. He’s running his large hand, those slender fingers, over himself so beautifully. His head is tilting back again, and he disregards possible embarrassment as he moans low and long, pace increasing each time his cock spurts another small droplet of pre-come. His rhythm stutters when he hears your sharp inhale.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the first time you scolded me.”

He’s lost most of his resolve now, because instead of a verbal response he’s simply nodding quickly. It’s true. He had chewed you out in front of the whole team because you had managed to get kidnapped by the Afghan prince you were supposed to be pretending to court. Spending three days trying to escape was nothing, mere childsplay, but Loki had busted his ass those three days simply trying to communicate with you. And when you rounded the corner, skipping no less, with a simple response of “Hey! Now it’s a party!”, he had almost murdered you.

He looked so angry, so annoyed, so finished with the Avengers in general for not telling him about your little antics and behavior. So he yelled at you in front of everyone, veins bulging from his neck and finger pointed in your face that it took all your self-control not to make a dirty joke in the middle of it. Steve knew this of course, because he stood behind Loki with his lips spread so thin and mimicking with his hand near his throat for you to cut it out.

“Yeah? Gods, you should see yourself. Spread so perfectly, practically begging me to fuck you.”

“Shit,” you pant, free hand leaving the sheets to clutch at your left breast. His words hit you like a wave and you swear you can feel the pebbles on your skin and salt in your mouth. “Stop talking like that or I’ll come.”

“Why should I stop?” He swears quietly under his breath, thumb passing along his slit to collect more slick. “You said you want to come. I can make you come. I can have you withering beneath me, uncontrollable, crying from such — ah — from such ecstasy.”

You rub your clit faster, whines turning into near cries as his words hit you. Your brain digests the meaning, and your body begs to be full of his cock. He has your thighs shaking. “You want that?”

He can tell you’re fighting it and it’s making him harder, if that’s possible. He can feel the coil at the base of his spine, pinching him nicely and swelling his balls with the release he so desperately wants to fill you with. The pleasure is growing inside of him, chest burning hot and prickly with the coil of arousal. He tears his gaze away from your body to lock eyes with you, and it’s deadly. “So beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

There’s a fire tracing up higher, starting at the base of your fingertips and up your arms, tightening its grip around your clenched throat. It’s so good and bad at the same time. And again, you’re reminded that you’re literally on display, hot and wet for the one man who makes you feel like burning this whole compound down. “Loki, fuck, please.”

“Please what?” Loki groans, hopeful about your words. He wants to get an invitation, he wants inside you, he wants to be with you. It’s like a voice is teasing him, telling him it’s not just erotic desire that he’s feeling, but he pushes it down and focuses back to your withering body. Your hips are lifting themselves up but your thighs are threatening to shut violently. “You want me to fuck you?”

A single tear escapes and quickly seeps into your ear. It tickles, but it’s faint compared to the burning heat between your legs. “Just…”

“Begging me, pet? Gods, keep doing that. Where do you want me?”

You’re reluctant to tear your hand away from yourself, but you have to see him. Lifting yourself on your elbows, you watch as he strokes his length at the same pace you had. His hair looks unruly, like he’s been running his hands through it. Maybe he’s been pulling it.

That simple thought is enough to cause you to spread your thighs even further, knees practically touching the mattress. “Come here.”

Loki doesn’t care if you took him by the neck and insulted his whole being right now. Same as you, he follows your instructions like it’s second nature. He’s on you in a second, hand never leaving his cock as he keeps stroking himself to near completion. “What do you want? Tell me, darling. Tell — ah, oh — please.”

His face contorts in pleasure as he strokes the right area. You watch him, cheeks hot with a craving to put him in your mouth, in your hands, deep inside your aching heat that you’ll be able to feel him in your stomach, bottoming out and grinding against your clit with ease. “Make me yours.”

He hovers over you, one arm supporting his weight on the mattress as he dips down to capture your lips in another kiss. It’s rough and desperate and both your breathy moans are intermingling in begging pleas of release.

You were right: his hair does tickle your neck.

“Look at you. Fuck.” He aches almost painfully, climax close he can fucking taste it but he refuses to let it occur. It’s the way your mouth drops open when his hands reach below to cup your stomach, your hips, and then your bare ass that makes him inwardly praise every God he knows exists. He watches your jaw tense, eyes shut no matter how hard you try keeping them open, and neck presented like a lovely snack to his carnal cravings. He pushes your legs up higher and hooks them over his shoulders. But he doesn’t fuck you just yet, no, he lowers himself down and attaches his lips to the one place you need devoured immediately. His tongue sweeps slowly across your folds and to your clit, circling in tight figures and flattening against it to turn your whines extreme.

“Loki, fuck, fuck!” Your hands grip the top of his head harshly and he inhales through his nose. But he continues and presses in deeper, teeth grazing on accident and causing your hips to thrust upward and away. He has your thighs gripped tightly in his hands. Everytime your hands pull his hair he groans low and the vibration sends a prickle of pleasure throughout your thighs that they jiggle.

Loki’s enjoying this, you can tell, because he’s moaning in between your thighs and rutting against the mattress slowly. You don’t remember when he took off his pants but it’s quite a treat to see his round ass rise and fall with determined thrusts.

Loki slips one finger into your tight opening and it surprises you. His fingers are unbelievably long, not as thick, but he’s expert enough to know how to utilize such an asset. He pumps it gently and continues his smooth glides over your sensitive bud, completely thriving with each shout you give.

You’re sweet, a little salty, and so fucking perfect that Loki moans into your mound and presses in two fingers this time. He curls them and rubs against that spot that has you practically flying upward. It’s a stuttering series of ah-ah-aH’s and he ends up smiling against you the louder you get. If there wasn’t a party happening downstairs the whole team would be piling outside your door to hear.

You’re coming with a loud scream, practically animalistic, and your knees knock against his head as they struggle to close. Loki’s mouth drops open as well, a long groan released as he continues to lap at you. The feeling has you whimpering but the sight is what gets you. He raises himself, chin shiny and lips glistening, and he gives you that fucking smile he gives whenever he’s won an argument. Except this time, he’s just made you come with the most pathetic noise you’ve ever made. You tug him close and kiss him deep, tasting yourself and openly inviting it.

“As much as I want to look at your face again when you come over my cock, it’s not in the cards.”

Before you can respond, Loki flips you over and traps you underneath him. He presses his cock into your lower back and ruts gently as he places small kisses down your neck. He pushes your hair to the side and trails more kisses down your spine.

“Alien or not, it makes sense you would enjoy this position,” you say smugly. 

He grips your hips and lifts you to place a pillow underneath and nudges your legs apart. Your breath hitches when you feel him against your drenched cunt. He leans down, chest hot against your back, and presses a deep kiss to your cheek. “Okay?”

He’s about to fuck you raw and that still has you flushing with shyness. “Yeah,” you breathe, raising your hips as an invitation. He wastes no more time and finally pushes into you. Your breath stretches as he pushes in farther.

Pressure builds, pushing lovely sounds out of him that have you clenching down around him. He hisses and thrusts deeper, allowing you to adjust to his full girth and length.

Your muscles relax to make way for him. Your breath levels to match his. Every teasing inch has your heart pounding in your ears. A whimper pours from your mouth when he finally bottoms out and his hands grip your hips so hard you’re sure there are bruises forming. “Loki.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and takes that as signal enough. Pulling back just an inch already has your mouth parting in a silent scream. You can feel all of him, every vein and ridge, and it’s fucking delightful. He pulls out until only the cockhead is snug, and thrusts back in until his hips hit your ass. Your pants are plenty in telling him that you’re ready for him to move quicker.

He’s sliding so easily, your cunt absolutely drenching his cock and clenching around him like the most heavenly vice. The intrusion of his cock sliding in and out, in and out faster and rougher, makes your toes curl and your vision hazy.

His arms move. One comes to wrap all the way around your waist while the other grips from underneath and to your neck. He isn’t choking you, his hand nearer your collarbones than anything else, but it provides a nice leverage for him to lean over further and drive his hips deeper. He plants slobbery kisses to your shoulders.

“This is what you wanted all these weeks?” he pants, hips drilling into your cunt at such a rapid and delicious pace that he has your back arching almost painfully. You can only gasp and moan as a response, drool beginning to pool on the pillow closest to you. It’s impossible to swallow it, let alone speak through it, and you shut your eyes as another loud moan escapes your bruised lips.

“Answer me, darling,” Loki tries again, pausing his thrusts to change his hand positions. This time he hooks his right arm underneath your waist and the other slowly pulls upward where it leaves invisible lightning strikes across each of your vertebrae. His fingers find the base of your neck and then the thickness of your hair, and he tugs you up so your back is now one with his chest. He settles you on your knees and helps you grip the headboard. The quick movement causes black spots to appear in your vision for only a second because then he’s pounding away again and pulling your head back to lay on his shoulder.

“Yes!” you scream, thighs vibrating from lack of strength but you’re determined to feel Loki at this wonderful angle. He’s holding you up so carefully but he’s fucking you with such a rawness that’s you’ll definitely feel this tomorrow. Throwing your head back, Loki uses this opportunity to plant a slick, hot kiss on your neck and to unleash your hips from his hold to cup your breasts instead.

“Yes, you like getting fucked by your God?”

That makes you roll your eyes, but then he has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head when his thrusts pick up and begin slamming into the one place you need him to be. Fire licks its way up your toes, to your thighs, to the middle of your chest and building such a tight coil that you’re afraid it might actually burst red and violently over your white sheets.

“We can do this all night. I have so many things I want to do to you, and you me. You like having cock in your mouth?”

The desperation in Loki’s deep voice milks a newfound desire within you. It has you uncontrollably clenching around his thick cock and giving him his answer. “I like having cock in my mouth. But I would certainly love to see you on your knees with mine down your eager throat.”

His words scream in your ears. You brace your hands against the headboard and lean forward so you’re no longer pressed up against his hot chest. This way he can ram into you easily. His hand remains twisted in your hair and the tugs he’s giving are causing you to leak around his cock, wetter than you’ve ever been, hot and cold with such a need for release.

After he says it, you imagine it. You on your knees looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes, perhaps in the middle of the common room where anyone can walk in, sucking down the delicious curve of his cock with him dripping down your throat. Yeah, that has you moaning uncontrollably now.

“Please,” you pant, meeting his thrusts halfway. Loki’s leaning over again, his cock pulsing. His cheeks are red and his chest is heaving delightfully as he comes near his end as well.

“Please, what? Use your words.” He’s throwing your own words back at you, teasing you in the most unnecessary moment, because gods, did you need to come. He dips his fingers into your parted mouth and you immediately suck them deep, swirling your eager tongue around his lean fingers, and you hear the nasty pop when he removes them. He plants his index and middle fingers back in between your thighs and works your nub to push you closer to edge.

It’s too much. “Oh, fuck,” you whine, voice thinning. It’s like there’s a heavy bulge in the middle of your throat begging to be popped, creating such a soreness that the only cure is to yell in delight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

A needy thrum of desperation pouring into your veins is enough to snap you from your hazy state. “Loki, please. I want to come. Make me come, please.”

His fingers work faster, pinching your nub between both fingers and it sends you howling pornographically. You’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good. Loki’s mounting you, claiming you as his, fucking you with such primal desire that it takes everything not to collapse from the sheer pressure of it all.

“Fucking brilliant, darling,” Loki groans, thrusting deeper and rolling his hips against your ass in an effort to reach his climax. He’s watching the way you’re practically shivering from the aftershocks, flushed with sweat, cunt squeezing the ever loving devil from him. A few more deep thrusts is all it takes for him to shake with a pleasure he hasn’t experienced in nearly two hundred years. The feeling of your velvet warmth enveloping him to the point it squeezes painfully, your spent dripping around his cock and down your shaking thighs; it makes him shut his eyes tightly as his jaw drops and he fails to catch the low shout that escapes. He watches the space where the two of you are connected as he continues filling you to the brim. His own come is now dripping from the sides.

He pushes in a couple more times, soft and deep, just enough to extend his climax and massage you. He drags out your name once he finally reaches his end and removes himself carefully. Before toppling onto the sheets, he tugs you over and onto your back to roll with him.

Both your chests heave, sweat glistening, and there’s white spots plaguing your vision each time you shake your head. There are strands of hair stuck to Loki’s cheeks and forehead and he looks so blissfully fucked out that you’re proud of yourself for not jumping his bones earlier. The build-up was a strung out foreplay, but the end result proved to be entirely worth it.

“Was that punishment enough?”

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “Seriously? You’re still on that?”

“Oh, darling,” Loki grunts low as he rolls onto his side and tugs you into his chest. “Everytime you make a blunder, which is every day, expect to be punished accordingly.”

If only you’re lucky enough to do what you do best.