My Skin
Summary: A one-shot. Loki helps a woman reclaim her sexuality in the wake of sexual abuse. I don't own anything from the Thor universe.
WARNING: Deals with rape.
"Your face saving promises whispered like prayers
I don't need them
I need the darkness, the sweetness
The sadness, the weakness
Oh, I need this
I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight
Angel sweet love of my life
Oh, I need this…"
-Natalie Merchant
It had been one month. One month since I hadn't come home for a night. One month of anger and pain. Of doctors, tests, and question after probing question. One month of fear and self-loathing.
One month of hell.
As I lay in bed, wide awake, I looked over to the trickster god, sleeping peacefully beside me. He had not left my side once this past month, and I was grateful.
Heimdall had seen it happen. He had seen me stumble out from a strange bedroom, confused and bleeding, trying frantically to find my clothes, and at once he summoned Loki, telling him only to get me to a doctor. He would learn soon enough what had happened.
When Loki found me, I had already been returned home, my attacker's way of reminding me he knew exactly where I lived, should I open my mouth to anyone. I was sitting in the middle of the living room in the dark, arms wrapped around my legs and face buried in my knees. He knelt down, his usual arrogant expression nowhere to be found, and he took hold of my shoulders, whispering, "You need a doctor. You can't just sit here." I was still so out of it, all I could do was agree, and he helped me up, walking me out to my car and keeping his hand on my leg as I drove. When I arrived to the women's clinic, he made himself invisible to everyone but myself, somehow knowing how badly I needed someone to go in with me, and during the exam he held my hand, letting me practically crush his when their tools awoken and angered the pain further, making it difficult to breathe.
"Breathe," he whispered gently in my ear while I wept silently on the table. "It'll be over soon."
When I was finally home again, he followed me into my bedroom and lay with me, wrapping his arms around me. Eventually I found the strength to tell him everything, every detail from the metal coffee table leg my head had been beaten against repeatedly while I lay on the floor, to the bruises on my arms from when I had been held down. I told him every single detail, weeping as I did so, and he lay still, taking in every word like a knife.
When I was done, he pulled me into his embrace, crushing me against him while one of his hands came up and cradled my head. "He will not touch you again," he hissed.
The next day he was gone, and I didn't dare ask where he'd been when he returned to me. The look on his face told me I didn't want to know.
He hadn't left my side since then, sleeping in my bed with me every night because he knew it made me feel safe, and keeping me company in my home, knowing the quiet only drove me into madness. He'd sat up with me the nights I couldn't sleep, allowing me to cry it all out, and he'd been the authoritative voice I needed whenever I went for too long without eating or was neglecting to take care of myself in any other way.
It was a side of him I had never seen before, and to see him put aside his usual commanding and abrasive nature to become the voice of help I needed made me realize how much he really cared for me. He didn't even press me when I wasn't ready to have sex again.
I had tried though. Not being able to enjoy sex again made me feel as though that monster still had some claws in me, and it was a hold I wanted to be rid of. I knew it was a process that took time, but that didn't stop me from trying to rush it. In my haste, I had reached out to Loki one night, kissing him deeply and running my fingers up into his jet black hair, pressing my body against his until I felt his arms wrap around me as he returned the kiss just as hungrily, his erection beginning to press against me.
He threw me back on the bed and climbed on top of me, placing kisses along my neck as his hands busied themselves pulling my shirt up, pulling away to pull it over my head and cast it aside to the floor. His mouth came down over my hardening nipples, biting at them through my bra… when I felt a deep wave of nausea mixed with rage flood through me.
"Stop," I gasped, pushing him back and rolling out from under him. I sat up, unable to look at him out of shame, and I sat with my back to him and tears rolling down my face. "Dammit!" I growled. "Fuck!" I buried my face in my hands and the mattress beside me sank as I felt something being placed in my lap. Looking up from my hands I saw my shirt he'd removed laying there, and I looked over to see him staring down at the mattress as though he were ashamed of himself.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. I sighed, pulling my shirt over my head and back into place.
"It's not your fault," I whispered through tears.
That had been two weeks ago. I hadn't made any advances again for fear of a repeat performance, and he had made no advances on me, too afraid of triggering something bad. Instead we only slept at night. He usually held me in his arms as I dozed off and if I didn't wake up the next morning inside them, he was usually at least laying close to me.
As I lay in bed, watching him sleep, I couldn't help but smile, thinking how wonderfully protective of me he had been lately. I wondered if he was placing blame on himself for not having been there that night… for not having saved me before it was too late.
His eyes opened slowly to look at me and he scrunched them shut again, turning his head away from me for a yawn and returning to place a kiss in my shoulder. "It's early," he murmured sleepily.
"I know," I whispered, snuggling closer to him and kissing his forehead. He picked his head up a little to kiss my lips and I felt a small rush of warmth move through me. Slowly, I scooted my body closer to him, giving him multiple kisses while he brought a hand up and ran it through my hair. I traced his jawline with my fingers as the kisses became slower and more loving, and soon his hand went from running through my hair to cupping my face and drawing me closer.
I rolled us over so I was mounting him, and began to grind my hips over his, feeling his already erect manhood throb as it pressed against me. He sat himself up, holding me in his lap, his hands finding my shirt. Slowly he pulled away from a kiss to look into my eyes, seeking out permission. "Slowly," I whispered, and he nodded, gently pulling my shirt off before stealing my mouth in another kiss. My bare breasts pressed against his already bare chest and I ran my nails down his back, causing him to growl against my lips. Locking an arm around my back, he tipped me backwards til I lay on the bed and he was on top of me, curling his fingers over the waist of my pajama pants and slowly tugging them off. His fingers reached down to stroke me through my panties, but he stopped when he heard my breathing hitch in my throat.
Even in the heat of the moment he was so attentive.
"Shall I stop?" he asked, not moving his hand though his fingers had stopped moving. I waited a moment, closing my eyes and taking a deep cleansing breath before shaking my head,
"Don't stop," I whispered.
He hesitated, then resumed stroking me gently, kissing my neck while I kept my eyes closed, slowly taking in the tenderness of the moment, growing more and more at ease with his actions. Eventually, ease began to grow into arousal, and I began to grind myself against his fingers. His lips moved down from my neck, trailing hot kisses down my stomach to the edge of my panties, and he glanced up at me, grinning as he bit down on them, tugging them down with his mouth and casting them aside. His face disappeared between my legs, and soon I felt his tongue tracing over my folds, reaching my clit and drawing moans from me as I tangled my fingers into his hair. His tongue alone was enough to drive me wild as I smiled through wave after wave of pleasure, and he made love to me with his mouth until he brought me to my climax, my body shaking from it. It had been so long…
Tears rolled down my face as he crawled his way back up, kissing them away lovingly and whispering in my ear, "We can stop here if you wish."
"Don't stop," I breathed, reaching down to tug at his pants. He pulled away, removing his pants, then crawled back on top of me, positioning himself at my entrance.
"Slowly," he whispered to reassure me, and gently he began to slide in. There was a brief moment of pain, causing me to bite down on my lip, and he paused, watching my reactions very carefully. I nodded to let him know I was fine, and he continued until he was sheathed inside of me. Carefully, he pulled back and thrust himself forward again, burying his face into my neck with a groan as he kissed me. "I've missed you."
My legs wrapped themselves around him and I bucked my hips into his, signalling him to pick up the pace. He did without further persuasion, thrusting into me again, this time faster and harder, and I dug my nails into his back, grinding against him as he moved. His heavy breathing washed over me and he continued to move, eventually working himself all the way up to the hilt, and I cried out in ecstasy, his every thrust hitting my core. I tightened my walls around him, and he inhaled sharply, nearly losing control. "Minx," he hissed with a grin before slamming himself into me. When I smiled back he leaned his mouth to my ear, his hips beginning a steady but firm pace as he whispered in my ear.
"You are not a victim," he whispered, thrusting harder. "You're a survivor. You're my warrior." I moaned as his pace grew faster. "He has no hold on you. You are free!" Tears rolled down my cheeks and I felt my climax rapidly approaching. "You are beautiful. You are my love. You are my queen." I cried out as I felt myself come hard over his throbbing cock, and he moaned my name as reached his peak, pumping his seed deep inside me.
We lay still for several long minutes, his lips trailing kisses over my cheek while he remained sheathed inside me. When he finally pulled out, I smiled up at him with tears in my eyes. "I'm free," I breathed.
(A/N: This was originally written for a Loki Confessions blog. It was meant to try and help paint a picture of what it's like to survive sexual abuse, particularly how hard it is to embrace your own sexuality again afterwards. The story itself was very personal because it was completely based off my own experience of going through the healing process and how powerful the moment was when someone finally helped remind me that sex and brutality are not one and the same.)