Wit
Trevor groaned and arched on the white-sheets while Loki's hands stroked his hips. Really, he should never have let this start as it was so very, very wrong. Especially since it went against everything he believed and yet it felt so good. Outside his bedroom, the third step up creaked and he froze. Undeterred, Loki's lips brushed against his chest. Set in the pale-skinned face and framed by the long black-hair those emerald-green eyes glowed in the sunlight.
There was a knock on the door followed by, "Trevor ?" His housemate Rudolph Greene opened the old oak-door. Rudolph raised his eyebrows and asked, "What's going on ?"
Since Loki hadn't told him what illusion had become in midas res it left him to flounder. Almost in vain, he tried to gather his wits. Seconds later, he tried to look and sound sleepy then muttered, "Sunning m'self."
"Sunning yer self ? With the covers on ?" Rudolph said before laughing. "Ya seriously need to wake up, mate. It's almost breakfast 'n that lady friend of yours left a while back."
It was hard to bite down on the yelp of surprise when Loki suddenly started sucking on the innermost part of his thigh. "Y-yeah, Rudolph, I-I'll be down in a minute."
Rudolph suddenly called, "Professor, Professor. Bruttenholm, wake up !"
As he blinked awake it was to see the canvas tent above him. Sergeant Whitman glared down at him.
Sergeant Whitman barked, "We don't have time for pleasant dreams, Bruttenholm ! If we don't find any Nazis today, I wanna get off this rock by next week."
How he wished that Loki were here. The black-haired Asgardian Prince would have believed him about the Nazis presence on the island. Well, if Loki knew what a Nazi was or, at least, with this particular bunch's occult histories. Loki also would have been able to lift everyone's weariness and/ or annoyance with illusions and the like.
A drumming sound on the tent's roof, just what he'd wanted...even more rain. Slowly, he got up, dressed, pulled on his boots then lifted the golden cross from beneath his shirt. The cross gleamed and taunted him with the reminder of that too pleasurable sin. Brief shame flooded in when he hoped that Loki would visit anyway. How could it be so sinful when Loki loved him ? It didn't make sense. Dare he to think it, but perhaps the Church was wrong.
That hope eclipsed the shame and prompted the thought that may be Thor had caused this storm. Storms caused by Thor usually meant that Loki was close by. If only he could be so lucky. The last vestiges of the dream disappeared as he followed Sergeant Whitman out into the storm. Instinct told him that something good would happen today.