"We cannot do this, sir!" spoke a whisper in the dark corridor.
She struggled to push him away in the darkness of the hall, but her heart wasn't truly in it. He laughed at her, smirking devilishly. How she loved and loathed that smirk all at once (and to be frank, she felt the same way about him). His hands roamed her sides, running up and down her hips. The tips of his fingers felt electric and cool as they lightly grazed her skin. Like ice.
He gave her such goose bumps. She shivered very slightly with pleasure.
"Listen, darling," he soothed, breathing heavily into her ear. He nuzzled his head into her hair and inhaled deeply. "I'm going to leave you alone for now." Her smell reminded him of petrichor. She really was invigorating, he thought.
Slowly, he placed a kiss in the crook of her neck. He held his lips gingerly against her flesh for several very deliberate seconds before removing his mouth from the oh-so-sensitive spot. Her legs almost gave out. She held onto his shirt just a little bit tighter. Her breathing became more shallow.
"I will always wait," she replied. She pulled away from him and looked up into his face. Even in the shadows of the hall, his eyes shone emerald green.
He smiled, took her hand, and placed a light kiss upon it.
"Until next we meet, Freyja."
She watched him walk away, elegant and grand, tall and strong. Handsome and yet completely and utterly menacing when he chose to be.
"I cannot wait, Loki," muttered Freyja dreamily.
She turned away and walked down the corridor back to her chambers, smiling brightly.