No rest for the wicked
The biggest advantage of being dead is the freedom it confers.
Loki is enjoying that freedom but, like all good things, it has come at a price.
He had counted on Odin making no attempt to recover his body and his calculations had proved correct. However, anticipating his family's indifference to his death is one thing, experiencing it is quite another.
The old man is long past being able to turn cartwheels down the halls of Asgard, but even so, it is clear he does not regret the death of his adopted son.
Loki had been a thorn in his side, a thorn his enemy had been kind enough to remove before he was defeated. Two major obstacles swept away in a single battle; the old man could not have been happier.
They are so alike in that respect; Odin is ruthless, a schemer, seeking to turn every situation to his advantage, but unlike Loki, he would never admit it.
He is the antithesis of Thor, his true-born son, but Odin invariably describes both himself and his actions in the same words people use to describe the Thunder God: noble, honourable, decent.
Maybe that is why Loki hates him so much.
Thor's reaction stings even more. His brother, who had been so incensed over a minor incursion into Asgard that he had been willing to plunge them all into war over it, the same brother who had claimed to love Loki so very, very much, hardly seems to have noticed he is gone. Nobody has had to restrain Thor from doing something rash to avenge Loki's death because he has not shown any inclination to take action at all, rash or otherwise.
Loki had protected Thor's human lover, had made that touching dying-speech where he had apologised to his brother not once but thrice and Thor has gotten over his death faster than he would a grazed knee.
Loki is watching him now, carousing with his friends, Asgard's finest: the warriors three. As usual, Sif is making cow-eyes at Thor and, as usual, he has not noticed. As Loki watches them, Thor breaks off mid-song and stares into his drink. He sighs deeply, his lips forming a single word,
'Jane.'
Loki is so pleased he had chosen to take the form of a mosquito to spy on them. He flies down and slips under Thor's shirt, right at the back of his neck, wriggling as far as he can under his armour and stinging him hard where he will not be able to scratch.
You're not sorry now, but I'll make you sorry, he vows, you and father. I'll get you both.
Jane is pleased to see him, though of course, he is not paying this visit in his true form. She does not see Loki standing in front of her, she sees Thor.
Once she gets over her surprise, she flings the front door wide and dashes into the kitchen. She scoops an uneaten bowl of cereal up from the table and shoves it into the sink. She is draping a dishcloth over it and the other dirty dishes when Loki enters the room. He is glad she was in such a rush because that meant she did not see him get caught momentarily when he tried to walk through the doorway. He had forgotten how wide his brother's shoulders are, especially when they are encased in armour. This excess of muscle is ridiculous.
It is mid-morning but Jane is still in her pyjamas. Her dash to the kitchen has left her flushed and slightly breathless.
"I knew you'd be back," she babbles, walking back to the table. "I... I just didn't expect you to be back so soon."
He smiles as he looks down at her; she is charmingly dishevelled.
He reaches out and caresses her cheek gently. Jane's blush deepens; she looks at her feet.
"I couldn't stay away," he says. "But there is something I have to tell you..."
"Oh?"
"It can wait."
He cups her chin in his hand and lifts it so she is looking directly at him. A stray strand of hair falls across her face. He brushes it back gently, tucking it behind her ear. Her expression is exactly the same as Sif's when she looks at Thor, vacant adoration.
Loki lowers his head and kisses her. This first kiss is important. He has to get it right if she is to believe his ruse. He makes it tender but almost chaste.
From Jane's reaction, it would appear he has guessed his brother's style correctly. He kisses her again, this time with a little more passion. She responds, putting her arms around him and pulling him close, pressing her body to his.
For Loki, the experience is peculiarly devoid of sensation; he knows her breasts are pressed against him but he cannot feel them at all. Thor's penchant for wearing armour everywhere seems even more perverse.
You are doing this all wrong, brother. If we were on better terms, I'd tell you.
He kisses her earlobe, resists the temptation to nip it, then moves his lips to her neck.
Jane moans softly, closes her eyes and lets her head fall back. When he starts to undo the buttons of her pyjama top, her hand comes to rest briefly on his. He wonders if she had intended to stop him. The important thing is, she does not.
Once the buttons are undone he slides her pyjama bottoms down around her thighs and lifts her onto the table, moving quickly, before she has time to think about whether she wants to be in this position.
She is tiny. In his true form he could lift her quite easily, but as Thor she really does feel light as a feather. Once she is seated, he pulls the trousers off completely.
His actions have clearly surprised her. The expression on her face is lovely, part shock, part scandalised delight.
"Thor, what are you doing?"
"I need you," he whispers hoarsely. "Oh, Jane, I've missed you so much."
"But here? In the kitchen?"
Loki decides the safest answer is another kiss.
While he is kissing her, he notices a glass of orange juice on the table beside her, two cubes of ice melting slowly into it. Loki fishes one out and Jane turns to see what he is doing. He touches the ice against her skin, enjoying the expressions that cross her face as she gasps and wriggles beneath his hands. Loki moves the cube downwards tracing a slow, meandering path from the hollow of her shoulder to her breast, licking the sticky trails it leaves on her skin, relishing the way her whole body stiffens when he rubs it across her nipple.
He pushes his knee between hers and moves a little closer, watching her closely as he continues to move the ice-cube downwards.
Jane seems to like what he is doing but at the same time, she does seem taken aback.
So, Thor does not bother with foreplay. What a surprise.
He should have known; his brother is blessed with neither imagination nor finesse. Thinking about it, Loki realises Thor would never play with his food, not like this anyway. He probably would not even think of ravishing Jane on top of her kitchen table.
Mother would be so proud.
Hopefully, Loki has not deviated too far from what his brother would do. He decides to play it safe from this point on; he doesn't want to arouse her suspicions.
When he attempts to remove her top completely, Jane stops him.
"No! Thor! We can't! Anyone might come in… Darcy..."
A threesome? Loki finds the thought appealing, clearly she does not.
He gives her something close to a wicked grin (Thor's features do not really do 'wicked') and slips his hand between her thighs. Only a tiny sliver of ice remains. He puts it to good use before it melts; Jane looks so lovely when she is surprised.
"To bed!" he cries. He sweeps her up into his arms and strides down the corridor carrying her. Jane giggles delightedly. By good fortune, it is his name after all, Loki finds the bedroom first try.
The armour is not as much as a hindrance as he had feared. Jane seems to have had plenty of practice getting Thor out of it, although she does take her time, running her fingers through his hair, caressing those ridiculous biceps and telling him repeatedly how handsome he is.
When he sits on the bed to remove his boots, Loki hears sounds that suggest she is getting under the bedclothes. He turns to check and there she is, sitting demurely behind him with the duvet pulled almost up to her chin. He forces a smile, removes his trousers much more discretely than he had originally intended and climbs in beside her.
Under the duvet Jane is less inhibited. Thor's muscles are obviously a major part of the attraction, she spends an inordinate amount of time kissing and caressing his torso. Her kisses stop at his navel which is something of a disappointment, her hands do not.
"Oooh! It's so... huge!"
His first mistake.
Clearly he has given his brother a lot more credit in that department than he should have. This is going to be hard to explain.
Loki whispers in her ear,
"It's just... I want you so much. It's been so long."
Infatuation is a wonderful thing. How else could one induce a scientist to accept a brief spell of chastity as cause for such unprecedented growth?
"Oh Thor... I love you."
"I... I love you, too."
Missionary position, of course. She is eager, willing and like his brother, excruciatingly boring. He holds that last thought at bay, concentrating on maintaining his enthusiasm until he has brought her to very the edge of orgasm.
He stops then, quite suddenly, looking down at her with what he hopes is a suitably pained expression, "Jane, I... I can't do this..."
"Thor? What's wrong?"
He does not have to answer, a few more seconds and it is obvious what is wrong. Loki enjoys her disappointment.
He rolls away from her and sits on the edge of the bed, sinking his head into his hands.
"I should never have let myself get so carried away. I just came to tell you..."
"Tell me what?"
"Goodbye."
He looks up to find her staring at him, open-mouthed.
"What? You mean that was the thing you had to tell me?" Loki nods. "And you waited until now?"
"My father is weak Jane, he has not long to live. Asgard will need a new king. If I am to be that king, I need to take a queen." He looks at her and shakes his head sadly. "A queen my people can accept."
"No... no... This isn't happening."
"It is my father's wish that I should take the Lady Sif. After all, we are promised to each other..."
"What?"
"We are betrothed."
"You're engaged! Since when?"
"Since we were children..."
"You've been engaged all this time and you didn't tell me?" Jane lunges forward and slaps him, hard. From the way she cradles her hand afterwards it looks like the blow hurt her quite a lot. "You bastard!"
He looks at her in surprise,
"You did not expect me to marry you, surely? You are mortal... No God could accept such a humble consort."
From her expression, it would appear she is too angry to speak. She splutters incoherently. Eventually she pulls herself together enough to ask,
"And what about Sif? How does she feel about all this?"
He shrugs.
"The lady Sif is angry. That is why I am here. She feels I have betrayed her,"
"You have betrayed her! ...and you've betrayed me, too."
"She says I have demeaned myself by getting into this relationship with you. She will not countenance our union unless I swear never to see you again. Even then, I fear she may not be placated. Sif is proud; she is a goddess after all... "
"So, you're doing this for her? You came here for her…"
"For Asgard."
"And what about me?"
He does not answer.
Loki allows Jane to chase him from the bedroom, dressing hurriedly as he retreats. She is hitting him, screaming, crying all at once. He drops one bracer in the hall but she obligingly throws it at his head when he reaches the front door. That does hurt. He picks it up and makes good his escape, her words ringing in his ears.
"Get out! Get out! I never want to see you again!"
Loki grins.
Now all he has to do is return to Asgard and get Odin out of the way so he can take his rightful place on the throne, even if it is for only a few, short minutes. From there he will send his brother, innocent and unawares, into the Hell on Earth he has just prepared for him.
One down…