Summary: After fighting amongst your fellow Asgardians to save your people, Loki awakens a deep desire within you and you reignite your centuries-old love affair with your battle-marred lover in the cabin of the Sakaarian ship.
Word Count: 1,400
Warnings: Smutty smut, mentions of blood and gore, praise kink, hero kink, quick-and-dirty.
AN: Inspired by the genuine experience of getting the horn watching Ragnarok!Loki fight on the Bifrost. And @lokisgoodgirl hearing Pavolv's squelch during the iconic lunge-and-plunge move.
***
The sight of him lingered in your mind like smoke in a bar. Smacking his foe with the horns of his helmet. The backflip into a lunge, plunging his dagger into the chest of a reanimated Einherjah. The squelch audible over the crowds fleeing the doomed planet onto the safe haven of a Sakaarian ship.
The look in his eyes as he flipped his horns over in one hand. The tilt of his head when he caught you staring at him, the sword in your hand held aloft, his heroics freezing you to the spot. The gasp you made when he threw out a green orb, hitting the undead guard behind you, the one whom you hadn’t seen. The wink he gave before turning and kicking another assailant in the chest.
“Do try to make it a little less obvious, my darling.” He placed a playful hand on your shoulder, his voice causing you to shiver. You had been watching him from across the Sakaarian ship, tending to those in need, ensuring they were safe. Your mind had wandered. He knew this.
You cleared your throat, turning to face him. “Pr-prince Loki, perhaps I can show you to your chambers…?”
He chuckled, his eyebrows knitted together as he examined you through hooded eyes. “How long have we known one another? Are we not past the pleasantries?”
“I suppose we are.” You blushed, recalling the many nights you had spent with the King of Asgard, his recent disguise of the Allfather melting away behind the secrecy of moonlight.
“You have chosen the large room with the windows as my chamber, I assume? I would know, having become intimately familiar with this ship when I single-handedly flew it from Sakaar. But then you knew this, my dear.” He leaned forward, inhaling the scent of your neck. “Come.” He slipped his hand around the small of your back and hurried you down the corridor of the ship and into the large corner cabin, index finger dancing across the keypad before a large rush of air indicated the opening of the door. It whooshed closed and he pressed you into the other side of it, lips colliding with yours.
“Gods,” he gasped between kisses. “The way you used your sword out there, love…”
You laughed, his lips on your neck now, his hands already gathering your skirt around your waist. “My swordsmanship? Was it not you who displayed fighting skills which could only be appropriately described as a foreplay to pleasure?”
His own laugh rumbled in his throat, fingers nibbling at the apex of your upper thigh. “It aroused you, didn’t it. Watching me take them.”
You moaned whoreishly, mouth open as he teased your underwear aside and toyed with your bud. “H-how many? How many, Loki?”
“At least a hundred.” He looked you dead in the eye, pleasuring you with his fingers against the closed door of the cabin. “But they were dead anyway. Does it count?” He cocked his head playfully, already knowing the answer.
The door you leaned against rumbled with a knock from the other side. Loki cursed.
“I’m tending to your wounds,” you talked rapidly, thinking as fast as you spoke, having created numerous excuses over the centuries. “I’ll find a ruse. Take off your shirt.”
His tongue poked out and whetted his upper lip. He looked up, seduction bleeding into every feature. Strong hands rested on the hem of his leather shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.” In one motion he lifted his armoured leather shirt over his head and tossed it to you. You caught it with ease. He turned, pressing a button to open the entrance to your love den.
“Oh, hey man.” The blue Kronan towered above the God, filling the doorway, paying no mind to Loki’s shirtless form. “We’re going to watch Thor get crowned as King. Wanna come?”
Loki sighed. “Not now, you imbecile.”
“Ah, no worries bro.” His shrugged affably, smiling, still holding his friend Miek under his arm. Korg looked beyond Loki and saw you standing in the foreground with the God’s shirt in one hand and a brown glass bottle in the other. “You use whiskey for wounds eh? Gotta watch out for those Asgardians man.” He chuckled light-heartedly. You looked at the bottle you had grabbed in haste. Norns.
“Look, we do wish to be present at the crowning, simply allow us – ” Loki turned around, his eyes searching yours for an answer.
“Th-thirty minutes…?” You cocked your head with uncertainty.
“Thirty minutes?” His tone dripped incredulity. “Surely it will take longer than that to…”
“Clean your wounds.”
You both smirked. Loki turned to Korg. “Can you hold off the ceremony? We would like to… come.”
“Sure thing, man!” With another chuckle, the Kronan and his small insectoid companion left the scene where the scent of arousal so clearly hung in the air. The door hadn’t fully closed before you unscrewed the cap and swigged from the whiskey bottle. You wiped your mouth with your forearm, tossing it to Loki who enjoyed several large gulps. He shrugged. “He a moron, but he can be amenable. Right. Where were we?”
He scooped you up and flung you over his shoulder as you shamelessly yelped, bouncing as you hit the mattress when he dropped you on the large Sakaarian bed. He loomed over you, black hair hanging over his face, blood and sweat still fresh on the bare skin of his chest.
“Please forgive my lack of finesse.” Hurriedly he unbuttoned his leather trousers, holding his cock and rubbing it roughly to ready himself as you gathered your dress around your hips and slipped your underwear to the side.
“It’s quite alright. After all, you completed the most difficult work on the Bifrost – OH!” You gasped as he entered you, hips rutting back and forth desperately, breath already ragged. You arched your back, head pressing back into the pillows, looking up only to take in the sight of him marred with blood and cuts, bruises already forming on the solid marble of his torso. The trousers he wore as he fought now slung low over his hips, his boots still on, grinding dirt and all manner of filth into his bed sheets. He held himself up on the flat of his hands, arms trembling from the exertion of holding up his battle-weary form.
“You saved us, Loki,” you moaned between his thrusts. “You saved us.” He lay his torso down over yours, pressing himself into you, grunting his approval into your ear. “You’re a hero, Loki. You’re a hero.” He moaned, your nails digging into the tender flesh of his back. You whispered, words audible only for their intended recipient. “We need you. We’ve always needed you.”
He lifted you up off the bed, sitting back on his knees and positioning you straddled over him. “Tell me more, love,” he panted. “More, pl-please.” You pushed him down onto the bed, holding him down.
“You’re our saviour, Loki.” You rode him hard, the fabric of your skirt pooling around your hips as you bounced your hips with vigour, ensuring the tip of his member almost but never quite left your heat. He groaned at the sensation, exposing his neck as his eyes closed of their own accord. Sweat pooled around your hairline as you leaned over him, placing kisses over his wounds. He hissed as your sweet torture continued, your hips increasing in speed. “You saved us, my King.” His breath became ragged, his mouth stuttering over words and sounds which were incoherent, yet their meaning obvious.
“You are the saviour of Asgard, Loki.” He came with a growl, throwing his head back as he emptied himself into you. His groans came to resemble sobs as his breathing returned to a normal rate. His eyes opened, fuzzy with delirium. He reached up and toyed with a strand of your hair, gently tugging it to encourage you to lean down so he may kiss you softly. He reached up, the backs of his knuckles grazing your cheek.
“My sweet love.”
“Do you always become this sentimental after pleasure?” You teased.
“No darling. I only become clear.” He gazed at you with the intensity of words unspoken. He sighed wistfully, looking to the door. “If I’m not mistaken, we still have a little more time to…. tend to my wounds.”
“Or to mine.” You arched your eyebrows. Before you could make another quip, your lover firmly grasped your waist and pinned you to the bed, hands gathering up the layers of your dress as his head slipped between your open thighs.
been working on this one since last week, tried changing my coloring style a bit (though I can't seem to notice)
based off the pose and reference from a photo of Tom Hiddleston I found online (all credits goes to the photographer and those involved I AM SO SORRY I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHO THEY ARE)
Tom Hiddleston as Loki Laufeyson as seen in Thor: Ragnarok
HD: https://fckedupdreamer.deviantart.com/art/Loki-Laufeyson-746689493?ga_submit_new=10%3A1527321076
