“Allow Me to Demonstrate” aka Reviewer Husk has me at a chokehold, the way I screamed in my heart 😭 now here is a memorialized version of it beCAUSE ITS SO SOFFFFTTT IM DE C E A S E D D D D 🩷
Blitzøs entire life spent being unwanted. So he adapted, and learned how to be something needed, something to be used.
Which is why I think he firmly believes he is being used by Stolas. He simply cannot fathom a different reality, one in which he is wanted for once in his life.
A link to my Masterlist is HERE
Summary: We all know what happens on the third date. (w/c 2.4k)
Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI. Smut. Language. Health and safety violations.
“Try this,” Loki commanded quietly.
All you could feel was each heavy breath as you tried not to wilt beneath his stare. He was a panther, toying with its meal.
Operatic melodies rose and fell all around, bouncing between terracotta arches from an ageing record player in the corner. It was beautiful, whatever it was. Perfect, even.
Loki grinned, as the aria began to build.
“E lucevan le stelle,” he murmured knowingly, tilting his head. “Now...try this.”
The gleam of his eyes swam in the candlelight, chin dipped. He had scooped a not unsubstantial blob of his desert to a fingertip and was holding it aloft. You licked your bottom lip, staring at him almost as intensely as he was staring at you.
It looked delicious. Stiff and pale and decadent. Not unlike its principal devourer for the evening.
You leant forward, pushing against the checked tablecloth as Loki gracefully extended his hand, the long finger poised. His gaze tracked from your eyes to your lips. Red, and parted. Without breaking your stare, you felt his finger come to rest on your tongue.
He had really outdone himself tonight. The private restaurant, the ambiance, the green suit that wore him like ripples on a midnight sea. Conversation had been sparkling, as usual. But now, you suspected the time for conversation was over.
His hair was smoothed back at the temples, drawing attention to sharp lines on his face that sank deeper with each glimmer of flame. Candlewax had begun to drip on the tablecloth, spreading in spite of itself. You knew how it felt.
Your lips sucked against his finger, deep to the second knuckle. Panacotta like you had never tasted swished at your cheeks. Rich, thick, and entirely delicious. It found its way across the spread of your tongue, sliding with a swallow down your throat. Your eyes fluttered shut as a muffled moan of pleasure grew and released. Loki’s finger curled, rubbing the roof of your mouth ever so gently.
If his elusive cock wasn’t hard as hard as marble right now, you’d eat your hat.
“I think you got it all, darling” he purred. You opened your eyes, met with the sight of a man bristling with arousal. It coursed across his skin like electricity as you sucked backwards, shallow breaths making his shirt buttons strain. The blue of his irises had been consumed by darkness.
The tip of his finger rested on your bottom lip.
“Delicious,” you smiled. Loki shivered, readjusting himself. “What say we get out of here?” he growled, retracting his finger reluctantly from your lip.
“I’ll call the car around.” He lifted the hand with one glistening finger in the air, ready to summon the solitary maître d' hiding somewhere in the back. Seeing his resplendent profile was the final straw. That proud brow, that haughty raise of his chin, those cheekbones. Enough was enough.
“Wait-” you gasped quietly.
Loki’s head swivelled. His brow twitched, interest piqued and momentarily sobered from his lust. A close-lipped smile began to flirt against your cheeks. You pressed your lips together, raising your eyebrows as a finger traced down your cleavage. The god’s eyes followed it.
“Really?” Loki hummed with no attempt to contain his amusement. “Bad girl, aren’t you?”
There was a loud scrape as he pushed his chair backwards against the tile. The table’s edge obscured your view, but you could tell his hips had widened. His thighs, spread.
“I’m game if you are,” he smirked with a devilish click of his tongue. One hand rested on the crease of his hip, fingertips digging into supple muscle. The other was hidden, but from the movement of one shoulder you suspected he was rubbing his thigh. Eager. Straining against the onslaught of erotic mischief about to be unleashed. Your stomach was fizzing as your mind dangled on the precipice of consequence.
“What about the staff?” you postured coyly. Loki chuckled. “Don’t worry about them,” he said, “do not forget whom it is you are about to fuck.”
You bit your lip, feeling heat rise in your face. “Oh, I’m sorry...” Loki started, feigning concern. How he managed to sound seductive and sanctimonious would never fail to amaze. And arouse.
He shrugged off his suit jacket, whipping his arms out with practised grace. The cotton sleeves of a crisp fitted shirt clung to the muscles. The subtle bulges cut in deep valleys against the cotton. “Am I being presumptuous in my assumption that you wish to immediately sink yourself onto my cock within this very restaurant?”
Casually, he undid a button on his wrist; proceeding to fold the cuff and roll the fabric sluttishly up his forearm. He repeated the action at the other side, completely un-phased that you had been rendered mute.
“Was that not your intent? Or do I take liberties?”
Silently, you stood, letting the napkin in your lap fall to the floor. Loki smirked, resting smugly against the back of the chair. His gaze ran down the length of your body as you walked around the table, pausing to let him enjoy the view.
You had chosen this dress with the heat of his breath on your neck in mind as he unzipped the back. All the way. Perhaps he would have kissed down the curve of your shoulder. Perhaps he would have slid his hands beneath the open fabric, around your waist, before it fell to his bedroom floor.
Perhaps, this would be even better.
“I couldn’t take the risk of you being overcome by your gentlemanly nature when we got back to your apartment. Not again,” you purred. The click of your heels twice on the terracotta tile made Loki straighten. He let out a strained chuckle, barely audible over the operatic crescendo playing somewhere on vinyl.
God, he was gorgeous.
You could now see the outline of his ferociously hard cock against the suit trousers. It stretched to his hip, thick and ready to fuck. “Give me a little credit, darling” he chirped innocently, inhaling as you curled your fingers around his shoulder. “Last week was our second date – I was respecting your Midgardian traditions, as inane as they may be.” He looked up, smirking. But his forehead quivered. His brows, slanted ever-so. He was desperate.
You stood between his spread thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the lines of creased fabric thick against his legs. Curves of muscle were visible, twitching. He stared up at you with unbearable hungry. There was a flash of his tongue as he wet his lips, large palms sliding up the sides of your bare legs.
Up they went, pushing the hem of your tight dress higher. Loki groaned, feeling the lace tops of your garters. His brow furrowed as he travelled higher, discovering the taut suspender lines. You had come prepared. Fingertips sank into the flesh, the mild pain making you clench.
“You’ll end me, darling,” he breathed, hands settling around your hips. “I can tell.”
Loki guided you onto his lap, pulling you into a devastating kiss. It was a mess of tongue and teeth and desperate desire, hands winding in hair and filthy moans filling the space between you.
The god’s fingers slipped between your splayed thighs, tracing the tips over your swollen pussy. The fabric separating his skin from yours was sodden. It tingled. Your breath hitched, moaning Loki’s name into his open mouth. He smiled against the kiss, pausing to mutter in your ear like the sweetest demon. “How ambrosial it is to hear my name on your lips with such...enthusiasm” he growled.
You began to thrust against his touch, cursing the care he was taking. Fingers pulsed in waves on your clit. “Loki, please…” you whined, throwing your head back. Your lover’s kisses traced down your neck, sucking against the skin.
“As you wish,” he muttered against your shoulder, free hand flying to his belt.
You looked down between your bodies. The sight of his upturned wrist, veins straining while he orchestrated the blossoming orgasm between your legs made you dizzy. Loki fluidly unbuckled himself, unbuttoning with a flick followed by the zippers hum. The god’s pants were nasal, concentration knitting his brow as he pulled his cock out in a fist.
It was as beautiful as you’d hoped it would be. The perfect length. The perfect girth; turgid veins decorating flawlessly velvet, alabaster skin. A bead of pre-cum settled on the tip as Loki squeezed his foreskin upwards, meeting your eyes with what almost looked like nervousness. He pumped the fist down, meeting the base with a dirty groan from the back of his throat.
You rubbed a thumb over the leaking tip, before drawing it to your lips. Loki watched, jaw slack, as you sucked it clean. His mouth formed the softest O, lines in his forehead deepening as he pulled your panties to the side. He rolled his knuckles through your folds, his breathing quick.
“So wet,” he murmured in quiet awe as you wrapped your fingers around his cock. “All for you, Loki” you gasped, squeezing the head inside.
The god’s face changed, a shock of pleasure contorting his features. His jaw clenched, upper body rigid as you sank onto his length. An almighty grunt of pure animalism ripped the air. Loki’s chin pointed to the ceiling, lost in the feeling of your little cunt snug around his manhood. Hands found their way to your hips, beginning to rock you back and forth. Each rotation was solid. Covetous, as he edged you all the way down.
“Yes..gods, yes; f-fuck,” he groaned, head snapping back up with a burning lust in his eyes. Your blood froze. Never had someone looked at you like this. So raw. So full of base hunger.
In that moment, in this place, in all his many ages; there was only you.
You began to bounce, bucking forward against the root of his cock with every turn. “Norns, f-fristelse-” he choked, long fingers spread against your ass. Tightening. Arousal squelched with every slam of your pussy down his length, his restrained thrusts massaging the deepest parts of you.
He pulled you flush to him, his face burying between your breasts. Wet groans sounded against the skin as his thighs pumped upwards; a maddening rhythm of sexual gluttony. More. More.
“More-” Loki gasped open-mouthed against your throat. Your hands were tangled in his hair, long strands wound and bound through your fingers. You tugged it back.
With a hiss, his jaw clenched; teeth bared like an animal in a trap. You squeezed your walls around him, bobbing slowly up and down. Every ridge and vein seemed to drag against the tightness, each inch punctuated by his scratching groans.
It felt like you’d known him like this for a thousand years. It was so natural- inevitable.
And who knew these days. Maybe you had.
He fought against the pull of your fist in his curls, deep lines creased in his forehead. Loki’s eyes blazed, swirling galaxies bursting from smouldering greens and blues. “More,” he repeated darkly.
And before you had registered the quick slip of his hands from your ass to your waist, it was over.
Loki lifted you into the air, sliding you with a pop from his length and spinning your body. Your palms landed flat on the table, sliding forward to brace yourself. Without thinking, your fingers curled around the loosened tablecloth. They tugged. The howl that escaped your throat as he pushed himself back inside the warmth of your heat was inhuman.
Loki curled against your back. His torso pressed against your spine, the caress of his breath against the shell of your ear making you push your hips back to the base of his cock. Loki snarled filthy curses lapping your neck. “Uhh...y-you...will be – g-gods, f-fuck,” he moaned, sloppy thrusts making your feet spread wider; “-the en-nd of me,” he gasped.
A tight smack of his hand landed on the curve of your ass.
Your fingers grasped around the tablecloth, pulling as orgasm bubbled and coiled in your belly. “More, Loki-” you cried, not caring as a bottle of olive oil crashed to the floor, smashing. The wine glasses teetered, quickly following. Chiming shards bounced on terracotta.
Loki’s balls slapped with each smack of his skin against yours. Deeper, filthier. The moans slipping from your throat, the crunch of your brow, the dirty wildness. It was everything. Right now, he was everything. “Oh, darling…” he sneered, tightening his grip of your hips, “you want me to fill you, hmm? Want my seed to drip down those pretty thighs all the way home?”
You nodded feverishly, tufts of rogue curls from the carefully constructed up-do now falling around your face. Fucked out. That’s what you were. Almost.
Loki slipped a finger beneath on of your suspenders, pulling it back. It stung against soft flesh with a filthy thwack. The god growled.
His thrusts slowed, a hand on the base of your spine lowering you gently; flat on the table. “You’re close, I can feel it” he hummed, “give in to me... sweet little thing. Let me show you what it is to be mine.”
With each punishingly sensual roll of his hips, Loki pressed the meat of his cock upwards. This undiscovered place, an untouched feeling. A pandora’s box of eroticism only he could open, never to be closed again. Ruined for other men. Stars began to burst behind your eyelids, shattering white light and deep burgundy pulsing. Every muscle in your body tensed to the beat of his rhythm, as you came undone. Unmade.
Your hands gripped the opposite edge of the table, pulling against it with all the force you could muster as climax ripped through your nerve endings. Loki’s gentle thrusts stroked you to completion, the flat of his palm sliding down your back. “Oh,” he gasped quietly, “I...I-”
A smouldering roar filled the air, drowning out the opera still playing somewhere beyond. From the sound, you could tell his teeth were clenched, his head likely thrown back in the ties of ecstasy. Loki’s hips tensed as he came, the shuddering and jolting of muscled thighs against the soft flesh your own.
His strangled sighs dwindled as he collapsed against your back, panting heavily. Wet lips pressed to your cheekbone. You tilted your head, meeting his mouth in a winding kiss.
He pulled himself from you with a muted groan, the squelch of your mingled cum sucking on the departure. He raked a hand through his hair before quickly tucking himself back into his trousers; silently watching you pull the sides of your dress down with a smirk curling one side of his mouth.
“That was-” he started, before you pressed a finger to his lips. “-A good start,” you finished.
You slid your hands over his broad shoulders, enjoying the heat of sex wafting from the open collar. Tracing your cheek to his, you sucked his earlobe gently; releasing it with a licentious moan. Loki shivered.
“Shall we bring the car around, now?” you whispered. Loki nodded.
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