Summary: You arrive at Loki’s secret hiding place and engage in a passionate romp. You continue to test yourself and your new abilities, much to Loki’s chagrin, as he tells you more about the quantum realm and the abilities of The Oracle who you meet tomorrow (aka Part 36).
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader
Words: 2,300
Warnings: Smut, strong language, some self-inflicted harm.
***
You felt coarse black hair under your fingers. You stroked it gently.
Loki’s hair is rougher than I remember. Gotta conjure my man some Midgardian conditioner.
You heard a chuckle, which sounded like it came from behind you. You frowned, confused.
It had been two hours to the rock pool from the palace. Talking to Loki, holding his hand and listening to him talk about Asgard, it felt like no time at all. The forest created a shaded canopy for much of your walk, with welcome pockets of sunshine warming you for short bursts. Loki had planned your journey so would reach the rock pool by mid-afternoon and have a light snack before continuing. She may be registering higher on the soul forge, he thought to himself, but she still requires regular sustenance to remain well. She is still my little mortal.
After your swim-and-freak-out-over-blue-Loki-then-fuck-him-senseless break in the rock pool, you continued to walk through the forest.
“It’s not far now, love. We’ll make our way to the transport, then onto the cottage,” Loki had told you. “We will be there long before nightfall.”
Your pace slowed and you asked him for a piggy-back, a phrase foreign to Asgard. “You’re comparing me to a swine?” He cast you a sideways glance, flashing you the incredulous look of mock offence you had grown to love. You explained it to him, and snorted a laugh as he squatted down, hands on his knees, bracing for the impact of you landing on his back.
“Hey, thought I was light as goose feather.”
“You were, but perhaps you weigh more after the revelations of the soul forge.”
“Huh? What does – you know what, never mind…”
His hands hooked under your knees and secured you in place, your chest resting against his back, your cheek in the side of his neck. Predictably, you had fallen asleep. And now, here you were, on Loki’s back, stroking his hair…. Which felt extremely dry and thick.
Your senses returned to you as you woke. The strong scent of hay and ammonia reminded you of the countryside.
That wasn’t Loki’s hair.
You sat upright, only making it so far before you stopped by some invisible… seatbelt?
“Shhhh shhh shhh love, just a moment…”
You heard the unbuckling of metal and the scent of leather. You felt a strong arm around your waist, pulling you back into him, shuffling on the saddle and making room for you to sit comfortably in front of him. Sitting upright now, you could see the large black mare you were riding.
“Loki, we’re – we’re on a fucking horse.”
“Yes, love. You remained asleep when we reached my handler, so we simply allowed you to lay forward, with your head in the crook of her neck. We secured the leather straps around your middle, twice, and attached them at the front end of the saddle. I assure you, you were perfectly safe. And my eyes have barely left you.”
Your hand rested on his right hand, at the front of the saddle. “God you’re sweet, Lokes. Thank you. For looking after me. But… your handler? So someone saw me conked out?”
A laugh rumbled from his chest. “He found it incredibly endearing. He asked if they sleep a lot. Midgardians.”
“Oh, right. Like I’m a rare exotic pet or something.”
“You’re not a pet. But you’re my little pet.” He stroked your hair.
You hummed into his touch, closing your eyes.
“We’re close to the cottage, love. Not long now.”
Ten minutes later, your mare slowed in front of a small wooden lodge in a clearing. The horse happily trotted off at Loki’s instruction and grazed on the grass surrounding your new abode. Inside, the small home sat bathed in a century of dust. It disappeared with a flick of Loki’s hand and a flash of green, the white pots glistening where they hung over the kitchen in the open-planned space. Loki felt his heart pound in the silence.
“So… you are going to tell me what you think, I presume?”
You walked around the space, gawping at a piece of artwork hanging from the wall. It looked like runes. Was it runes? Probably. “I mean…. it’s… cozy!”
He wore a pout-frown, which you noticed when you turned around. “You hate it. Understandable. It is small, and a stark contrast to the palace and the life to which you have grown accustomed.” He walked to you, his lips tugging into a smile, one that broke into a toothy grin when he walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. A whisper in your ear. “I used to live here. When I was… as you might say on Midgard, a teen.”
“This was your home?”
“For a summer and two winters. While I was training with The Oracle. Mother sent me.”
“Let me guess, it was around the time you were becoming a bit of a handful?”
You felt a kiss on your cheek, your back pressed to his chest. “You think too little of me darling. It was at my behest. I was here only under the guise that mother sent me.”
“So Odin wouldn’t know you wanted to study magic?”
“Precisely. The Oracle is… not a sorceress, per say. Though she has access to information others do not.”
“Alright, this sounds heavy. I’m putting the kettle on.” You wriggled out of Loki’s loving embrace, eliciting a chuckle from him as you found a stove-top pewter kettle and filled it in the deep white ceramic sink.
“So you’ve never had anyone over here? Like a date or anyone?”
“No love.”
“It’s sort of like… your holiday home.”
He cocked his head. “I suppose so.”
Loki pinched the fingers of his leather gloves, pulling them off his long elegant hands. He continued to talk as the kettle boiled.
“You must know about The Oracle. Firstly, she is telepathic. Very important.”
“So obviously we can’t use our inside voices when we see her.”
“Yes. She also has the gift of precognition.”
“So she’s psychic.”
“Not exactly. She is able to peer into the quantum realm and observe possible outcomes.”
“Well, we can all do that. Get yourself a good meditation on YouTube and job’s a good ‘un. Oh! YouTube’s an app. Its – ”
“Visual moving images, yes yes, I am well versed in Midgardian technology, believe it or not. I have visited your realm.”
“Yeah well you were kinda busy blowing things up, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have an iPhone, so.” You shrugged, your palms flat against the oak countertops. Loki stalked towards you dramatically, reminiscent of his energy in the cell, minus the threat but oozing gravitas.
“You are telling me you have the ability to peer into the quantum.” He tilted his chin down, his eyes piercing your soul.
“What, like it’s hard?” You grinned, quoting a film Loki definitely absolutely couldn’t possible have heard of. “No, I mean – there are infinite possibilities, right? There’s a reality where I’m…. I dunno, a mystical powerful queen… maybe a murderous villain… or a Midgardian office worker. AND a reality where I’m fucking you. Which is the reality we’re in right now. All the possibilities exist. What I’m saying is, how do we know she’s not bullshitting? Just making stuff up?”
“Because…” His rich voice vibrated through you as he walked behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders. He whispered into your ear, causing you to shiver. “She can observe which outcome has the most weight. A thicker thread of fate, if you will. The outcome most likely to occur. Destiny, some may say.”
You turned, inches from him. “But that fucks with free will.”
He raised his eyebrows, impressed with your knowledge. “Precisely, yes. That’s why the threads change. She has the ability to observe which timeline is the most likely outcome, taking into consideration our current choices.”
“Hang on, so – she can see what path we’re on?”
“That’s a lovely way to put it.” His palm smoothed down over your hair. The kettle started to whistle, pouring out steam into the kitchen space. “She also holds knowledge about the Jotuns, and she deeply understands theories such as The Trifecta. And immortality. She might understand what’s happening to you. Once we know that, we can decide how best to keep it from Odin.” He brushed the backs of his fingers down your cheek. The kettle continued to whistle. He removed it from the stove. When he turned back, you sat on the countertop, reaching over to the kettle.
“Love!” He reached for your wrist but failed to stop you from pressing the pad of your index finger to the side of the kettle. You hissed and recoiled in pain, clutching your hand into you.
“Ice. You need ice.” He closed his eyes and inhaled, his face and hands turning blue in front of you. He opened his eyes. Blood red at the center. And bright white in the usual places. You had never seen eyes so captivating. Still you shook your head.
“No, I’m fine.” You held up your index finger. “See. It didn’t burn me. It didn’t even burn off my fingerprint.”
He held your hand in his, frowning. The cold of his skin was soothing. It felt pleasant. Not the burning sensation of ice. But the pleasant coolness of frozen vegetables wrapped in a tea towel, ready to soothe a bruise.
He squinted. “You did this on purpose.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re testing yourself.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“You mustn’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s not safe.”
“But I have you. Ice, and magic.”
He frowned in concern.
“It didn’t hurt, Loki. I mean, it did at first. But it didn’t burn into my skin. Like when you told me about burning yourself, the skin layers, remember? The pain went away after ten seconds. Just like it does with you.”
He closed his eyes in sympathy, fluttering them open to find your hand and press your fingertips to his lips. His skin faded back to its milky Asgardian shade as he opened his eyes. “Be careful, my love. Please. This is still a very delicate situation. The actions you take may impact the changes to your lifespan. Risks. Like this.”
You nodded. “I’m sorry, Lokes. I’ll be careful.”
He stood in front of you as you sat in the countertop, your legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward. He rested his head on your chest. He felt your fingertips through his hair, quietly groaning at the sensation of your nails raking lightly over his scalp. He breathed deeply into the sensation, his eyes closed as his lips found the bare skin of your chest. Your nails dragged over the back of his neck now, coaxing an animalistic groan from his lips when you dug deeply into his flesh. His lips explored your cleavage in hot, passionate kisses. He pulled down the teal blue material covering one breast and engorged his mouth over your nipple, his tongue circling the bud as he continued to moan into your skin.
You felt yourself becoming slick, and wrapped your legs harder around him, locking your ankles in place. You bucked against him as he moved his attentions to your other nipple, circling his tongue, with a firm hand on your mid-back. You dug your nails into his neck, forcing another moan from him.
The material of your gown pooled around your hips as you leaned back, exposing your legs to the feeling of bare skin on leather. Your hands rested on the cold metal armor of his shoulders. Your legs gripping the leather of his tunic, the scent and sound driving you feral. You continued to thrust your hips into him. Your desperation made his cock twitch with need.
“Jotun form?” You gasped.
“No.” He looked up, smirking. “I don’t relish the possibility of ejaculating from my hip.”
“It’s hot.” You urged.
“It’s revolting.”
“Asgardian it is then. Let’s keep it old-fashioned.”
Loki pushed you back onto the countertop and hoisted your leg over his shoulder, diving into your center with his tongue. No formalities. No warmup. Just pure, lustful need as his tongue lapped at your clit and he pumped two fingers inside of you. You writhed under him, arching your back and finding it impossible to stay in one place. His flattened palm rested on your stomach, fingers spread. “Shhhh little one. Be good for me. Can you be good for me?” Loki correctly interpreted your incoherent mumbling as affirmative.
He continued his pleasure until you were pleading. He would start and stop, build then relax, never letting you further than approaching your peak. When he was certain you were ready, he scooped one hand behind your head and the other behind your back, lifting you up to sitting. He fumbled with his leather slacks, hands trembling, releasing his cock which was practically throbbing with need.
“Baby…” you whispered in sympathy, placing a hand on the base of him. You kissed him tenderly, as you moved your hand to the tip of his cock and rubbed your thumb over the sensitive tip. His stomach flexed and his body juddered at the contact.
“Your pleasure, love.” He kissed your neck. “This is about your pleasure.” He reached down and circled your clit, before entering you slowly, gently and gradually. He thrust in and out of you languidly, holding the back of your head softly and placing more kisses around your neck, collarbone and chest. When you were gasping, he focused his fingers on your most sensitive bud and continued until you burst, your juices covering his hand as you felt tingling heat in every cell of your body. His thrusts became ragged until he growled his climax, continuing the movement of his hips in sloppy assaults.
He rested his forehead on yours. “I love you, darling. Gods, I love you.”
“I love you, baby.”
He held you in his arms.
You weren’t privy to the soul forge’s data in that moment.
If you were, you would have seen the lifespan counter tick even further upwards.
