'I will kill whoever it is that put me down here.' Natasha couldn't help but think as her eyes opened and she blinked, blearily, before rolling off of the damn root sticking in the small of her back, sure she'd have a bruise there the next chance she got to look at it. The chains around her wrists made their presence known as she moved and she gnashed her teeth in irritation, trying to summon the magic that had left her so spent and boneless, and finding it tamped down by the metal that surrounded her wrists. The manacles were connected to another longer chain that wrapped around a thick wooden stake in the middle of the unfamiliar tent, and as she got slowly to her feet she found it only allowed her a few steps away from the center, keeping her from the tent flap where she could hear muffled voices. Sloppy, she supposed. All of it had been. She could still feel the singing in her veins of the battle rage, of the magic that had been let free for the first time in half a year, could still hear the siren song in her ears begging to be released, yet she could do nothing while the shackles were around her wrists.

She tugged harder at them, willing the beam to splinter and break as the metal cut into the skin of her wrists, but she had no such luck, and, spitting with fury and frustration, kicked out at the beam in a hope it might break it. Her foot throbbed, the wood having been reinforced, and her magic only fed her frustration until she wanted to shout and scream and curse.

"Son of a goddamned-."

"You know, for a lady your language is repulsive." Came a smooth voice from behind her, causing her to whip around, lips curled in a snarl.

"Go fuck yourself, Laufeyson," she spat, blue eyes watching as he slipped in through the tent's flap and sealed it with the quickest flare of green magic. Her heart nearly jolted at the sight of it, wishing she was as free as him, and as he drew closer she felt herself loosening up, the snarl that had been for the benefit of his men and her honor turning into a smile. She'd be hanged as a traitor if her father ever found out that she and Loki had been intimate, and was certain that his father would have just as many, if not more, negative things to say or do to his son if he learned of it. Without another word between them Loki surged forward to press his lips hard to hers, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other hand cupped the side of her face. There was little intimate or passionate about them, but as always it was a struggle for dominance, to force the other to submit, and it was one that Natasha was more than comfortable with. It was no secret, in Ivan's kingdom, who was the more commanding when it came to Natasha and her husband.

"They don't suspect?"

"Oh they know that I'll have some fun with you," Loki grinned and she rolled her hands, shoving him. He just laughed.

"Unbind me," Nat demanded, offering up her wrists. Loki fingered the edges of them, the slightest curl of intrigue on his face.

"Oh but it is so promising like this," Loki purred as he leaned forward to kiss her again. She bit his lip and felt his magic surge back against her at his injury. It nearly made her moan with longing.

"Is this payback for the last time we were in Asgard-?"

"And you left me tied to the bed, aching, after taking your own release?" Loki finished, his amusement turning sour as he pulled away from her, and she laughed.

"Oh I'm sure your father was thrilled to find his heir to the throne in such a compromising position," Natasha couldn't help but rub the salt into the wounds, her eyes bright and the color in her cheeks high from having him so near her, feeding off of his magic even as she couldn't call her own up.

"Shut up," he growled, and in an instant her chains were disconnected from the manacles around her wrist. Her clothing, the shift she wore beneath the leather armor that was nowhere in sight, ripped with ease under Loki's skilled hands, and she was shoved back onto the soft bed that was just to her side. The soft furs beneath her felt like heaven in contrast to the bite of the manacles around her wrist, and when she was turned around she grinned to see him looking so aroused, his pupils blown so they nearly covered his entire iris. As he positioned himself between her legs she bucked back, but held her hands out between them.

"Take them off Loki. Take them off or I'll leave." She said, voice serious even as it caught in her throat as he pressed his thumb to her clit, making her shiver.

"You won't leave me. You never do," he smiled as he bent down to kiss her, and though she moaned at first she pulled away.

"No, I do leave, I just always come back. But once I'm gone this time where will you be with just Sigyn to keep you company?" She asked, leaning back away from him to survey how his face contorted at the mention of his wife's name. She and Loki had had this on and off affair since they were old enough to sexually mature, their hatred for one another and for their families and circumstances having translated to some of the best sex Natasha had ever had. So it wasn't as though it was Sigyn, or even Alexei's fault that their time in the bedroom was lackluster, but it was difficult for an ember to compete with a roaring inferno.

As Loki released her wrists from their bonds, as she ripped open his shirt and ran her nails down his back till he bled, the skin healing right after it, an inferno was the only thing the pair of them could have ever been together. They bit and scratched at one another, a mad tumble for control heating them further, the both of them only growing more excited through the battle. Their magic sparked, danced with one another, until it was a miracle they didn't burn the bed and tent and the whole damn world around them. He sank into her, the way slicked with Loki's magic and Natasha's own arousal, and a low roar made its way from what seemed like the very pit of his soul, though Natasha was quick to meet him, her hips surging and snapping to take him all in, legs wrapped around his waist.

"God, go faster you ass," she snarled, even as he pinned her wrists above her head, trying to find some semblance of control. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glazed over, lips parted as she panted, but she took and took whatever he gave her, always demanding more until Nat was certain one of them would snap from the pressure building, the pleasure dulling out every other sense.

She moaned and arched her back so her breasts pressed against him. "Harder Loki, c'mon," she demanded. "You're not nearly as pathetic as Alexei is, are you? Prove-." She screamed, not caring who heard, eyes thrown open as her first orgasm tore through her, stars flashing in front of her eyes as her body went rigid underneath his, and though she hated being in such a submissive position, she had to admit that the angle was perfect for the thick head of his cock to rub against her most sensitive spots, reducing her to writhing nerves and the constant need for more. She managed to wriggle one arm free from his hold to fist her hand in his hair, yanking his head back and fusing her lips to his throat, biting down hard enough to bruise. To mark. Hers. The small fire pit off to the side of the tent flared to life, and it was a damn miracle it didn't set the whole tent on fire, but Loki put it out with a single word, his hips never stuttering even when he wrenched her hand free and pinned it even harder above her head. His gaze never left hers, watching as she came undone for him. Just him. She grinned and bit her lip, enticing him to press his own mouth to hers, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling at it until he tasted blood. She moaned beneath him, the taste shared between the pair of them, Natasha high off of the control she had over him despite what he told himself, high off of the feel of him.

It set her off a second, then third time before he finally followed her over the brink, shouting her name into her shoulder as he held her close as he spilled into her, Nat tightening around him. As Loki shook and shuddered above her she whispered that he was so good, so good for her in his ear, stroking his hair with her bruise-covered wrists, kissing his sweat covered forehead as she grinned against his skin.

"There's a masque being held next month. Both of our families will be going, looking for any excuse to bring up old wounds and incite more distrust. Think you can get away from your wife for a couple hours?" She asked him, voice soft, soothing.

"I'm sure I can find a reason. Anything," he said, looking up from where he'd been planting kisses along her collarbone. She shivered under the heat of his stare.

"Good. I'll find us a room at the nearest inn. Under the usual name." She kissed him again, refusing to give in to the disappointment that always welled so deep inside of her whenever she realized this couldn't go on. That whatever was between them was so brief, so happenstance, that they had to take what they could when they could. She supposed it would have to be enough.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!