Letters
Part 4
Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.
Warnings: Grief, angst, smut.
March 29
When I first met you, I thought your heart was the coldest thing in the world. But nothing could top the biting freezing water when I submerged in that lake. The impact on my bones hitting the cement-like water rang through my body. Every inch of my body felt like fire ants biting at me and I twisted and turned to find a way back up to the surface. But that man was everywhere and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let up. His large hands encircled my neck, closing my windpipe. My mind wandered, was this a dream? This couldn't possibly be how I was meant to die. It had to be a dream. My movements weren't fast enough. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel.
And then, he just let go. The water turned dark. Red. My focus blurred, unreliable, but there you were, an arm wrapped around and pulling me to the surface. My body must have acclimated to the cold, because it didn't feel any colder at the water's edge, even though we could see our breath. I was choking, gagging on hands and knees, trying painfully to fill my lungs. You snapped your neck to the side and were instantly dry.
"Come here," you motioned with a sense of urgency. "I need to get you back."
There was this surreal calm as you held me in your arms and transported us back to the hotel room. I remember how dark and quiet it was, the only sounds your steady breath, my impending chattering teeth. It was the safest I'd ever felt.
"Take off your dress," he whispered back in the room. Eyebrows drawn in, your voice was lost, body starting to violently shiver for warmth. He swiftly unbuttoned his cufflinks, removed his shoes while you stood there, a dripping stone of a mess. "I shouldn't know human anatomy better than you, darling. You're in danger of hypothermia. You need my body heat."
Brain feeling scrambled, you nodded slowly but still were frozen in a trance. It hurt to move a muscle. He pulled his shirt off quickly and noticed your lack of movement. His eyes were kind, but filled with worry. The zipper of your dress gave a high pitch whine as he released it behind you and the heaviness of the soaked fabric made the dress drop like a rock to the floor.
He whispered, "I'm sorry," so gently, you almost didn't hear him. And then your breasts were released from the cage of your bra. His eyes met yours as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.
"I've got you girl," he whispered and laid you in the bed, blankets pulled above your heads. His arms wrapped around you, legs tangled together. When had he removed his pants? Chest pressed to chest, his heart beat hard against yours. The irony of a frost giant attempting to warm you would have made you laugh if you could. His palm ran circles on your back, your body convulsing against him.
He was very aware of the intimacy of the moment. The curvature of your breasts pressed up to him, the softness of your skin as he ran his hand gently along the peaks and valleys of your body. If this weren't a life or death situation, he would have allowed those lingering thoughts of taking advantage of the situation. He was wildly attracted to you, as much as he tried to deny it to himself. But, you were also pure, and good, and surprisingly more innocent than he had ever imagined.
"What were you thinking?" Your eyes shot to his, pulling you from your own thoughts. You attempted to open your mouth, but your words were slurred and staggered, an awful attempt at defending yourself. His palm left your back to brush the damp hair from your forehead and cheek. "Fighting is in your blood as much as it is in mine, I know this. But I don't understand how you mortals can sacrifice yourselves so easily."
His thumb ran along your cheekbone. "I would have never forgiven myself if–" he trailed off and you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him tighter to you.
April 6
I miss your touch. I miss your kisses. I miss sparring with you and how much of a pompous ass you were when you'd beat me. I miss the look you'd give me when I'd beat you. I miss the little tricks you'd play on me with your seidr. I miss feeling you in my arms, around my legs, within my everything.
Your eyes opened to the slow methodical circles of his hand on your back. It was still dark, the only light coming from the city glow, which reflected off Loki's face. The shivering had stopped and your skin had warmed. He no longer felt like a burning fire to your skin, and instead you became very aware of every inch of him still wrapped around you. The thump of your pulse picked up speed and, noticing the small change in the rhythm of your breath, his eyes cracked open.
"You're awake," he whispered, his palm pausing mid-movement to rest between your shoulder blades.
"So are you," you replied. He could feel your heart beating fast pressed up against him. It wasn't every day that you awoke in a large plush bed with a semi nude god wrapped around your naked frame.
"Yes, well, I couldn't quite sleep knowing the condition you were in." His palm retracted from your back and a little part of you internally frowned. "You had me quite worried for a moment."
You scoffed at him in a mocking tone. "You should know I'm tougher than that, Loki. A little ice water isn't going to take me down."
He hummed in response and you could feel him retreating. No, don't go. Your palm slowly slid into his much larger hand. "I… I'm sorry. You–I mean, you…," a long sigh escaped. "Thank you, Loki."
Propped up on a pillow on his side, he considered you lying next to him. Had his eyes dropped to your lips, or were you imagining it? He grabbed the sheets draped on your bicep and pulled them over your shoulder. "I should let you rest," he said with a sigh.
He pulled himself up toward the edge of the bed, sheets and blankets tumbling off his bare chest down to his lap. His back to you, he shut his eyes, jaw flexing. He would not take advantage of you.
Holding the sheet tightly to your chest, you grabbed his hand at the edge of the mattress. He turned toward the hand, then your face as you pulled yourself to him, wordlessly pressing your lips to his. He may have no longer felt like fire, but his lips were a burning heat that you wanted to consume. He froze, torn between wanting to press you into the mattress, and needing to hold himself back. When you pulled inches away, searching his eyes for an answer to an unasked question, you were met with conflict.
Taking a breath, he reached to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, your name a sigh on his lips.
"Please don't make me do this," he whispered into your mouth.
It wasn’t the words you were expecting and you rested your forehead to his, answering him quietly, “What am I making you do Loki?”
Lips hovering, like a game of how close one could get without touching, his breath felt warm on your lips, his scent intoxicating. “You don’t know what you’re doing, girl. I won’t stay on Midgard forever. I'm not– it wouldn't be what you want."
You smiled. He was trying to protect you, again. "And what do I want?"
"Someone who matters."
"Yeah," you agreed. You leaned away from him and dropped your arm that held the sheet to your chest, pooling at your waist. He was very good at keeping his composure, but you could still see his mouth gently opening, his eyes trailing down to take in your soft curves, nipples peaked. "I'm not asking for forever, Loki. I'm not some silly girl with my head in the clouds. But I know what I want."
"Norns," he whispered under his breath, leaning closer toward you. You felt as his fingertips dragged up your ankle to your calf, the back of your knee, the meat of your thigh. You leaned back as he crawled up to you, breath shaky as he hovered above.
"Are you sure?" he asked, giving you a way out.
"I'm yours," you whispered, and it was like a switch flipped. One hand gripped onto your hip, the other tangling in your hair as his lips trailed down your neck.
"Say it again," he growled, large hands exploring new areas. He consumed you, big and broad and warm and everywhere.
You moaned from the attention. "I'm yours Loki."
He pressed his lips to your again, using his tongue to slowly part your lips, the whisper of a moan erupting from within him. Your heart beat faster and faster in rhythm with his.
Maybe I've always been yours. Even before you arrived on Midgard, before the chaos, the attack, before everything, maybe the stars knew that I was yours and no one else's. You looked at me like I was a treasure you'd been searching for your entire lifetime that night. You kissed me like it would be your first and last. Fingers mapped out each other's bodies, new discoveries and untouched wonders.
You'd taken your time, neither of us knowing our future together would be more short lived than we'd anticipated.
You paused to study my face, for any uncertainty, any regret. As if there was any doubt. I flipped you onto your back with a sultry smile, sitting atop you like conquering a mountain, and slowly sank down to take all of you in, shuddering and whimpering.
It was exactly what I had imagined, a painful pleasure that divided me in two. Your fingers interlaced with mine and you pulled yourself up to hold me in your arms as I rocked back and forth, acclimating myself to the new feeling. My name came out of your lips like whispered ecstasy. "You are a goddess."
Bringing your hands to my head, tongues intertwined, toes flexing to the heightened feelings.
"You okay?"
I nodded emphatically. Your hand drew down, first to my alert nipples craving any sort of attention. Flicking, fumbling, pinching, you pulled noises out of me that I'd never made before.
Your exploratory fingers went further south, causing a selfish whine. I wanted all of you everywhere. We looked up at one another at the same time, a mischievous grin forming on your face, a concerned pout on mine.
"Don't worry pet, only good things await you." Your long middle finger ran between my folds, flicking the bundle of nerves. I was a puddle in your hands. If you had asked me to leave Earth with you and never return, I would have gladly packed my bags.
My hips went wild with need, those long digits playing the harp on my clit.
"You ready to come?"
"Not yet," I replied, wanting this moment to last as long as possible, and somehow you prolonged it, a kiss here, a caress there, making my toes curl until I saw stars.
When I finally came, it may have been from the utter exhaustion that my body couldn't take it anymore. Out came a scream and then my teeth sank into your shoulder. I'd find out later that I'd bit you a little too hard, leaving a bruise that you didn't care to heal.
We laid in bed that day, you continuing to rub my back that would put me to sleep again. I was at peace, content and happy. Oh how I miss you.