Author's NoteI have had this snippet of filth on my computer for over a year now, and thought it was about time I subjected other people to it to. It's just a little fun to break up the re-writing process of Vice. Don't judge me too harshly. Or maybe do. I probably deserve it.

Rated M for a reason. It contains shameless smut, marshmallows and very crass language. Of course it does. It was written by me. If this isn't your cup of tea, please feel free to leave now. I'm not overly fond of flamers. Also, if you want more, please feel free to review. I may continue this story. Or I may not. We shall see.

Oh, and a little background. Claire is working for Stark, she lives in the Avengers mansion and all the Avengers decided to randomly go camping. I think that's all you need to know.

Collecting Wood

There was that little smudge of melted marshmallow on his lower lip. It drove her insane.

Of course, Loki had been driving her insane since that moment in the gym. Even now, as she perched on the edge of her camp seat, Claire's mind wandered to the heady memory of his weight upon her, the scent of his sweat, the delicious hardness of muscle beneath his thin work-out clothes.

The delicious hardness of something else digging into her inner thigh.

At this moment she had been convinced that he, her best friend, was going to kiss her. And gods, did she want him too. She had since the moment his emerald eyes had met hers. Yet somehow, both had thrown each other into the friend zone: the Nutella-munching, latte swilling, Spartacus watching friend zone.

Though having Loki as a friend was wonderful (despite his previous attempts to take over the world), Claire could not help but yearn for his carnal touch. She wanted him to make her scream like he did the whores that streamed into his room. All of them the same: dark hair, dark eyes – like her. Yet, not her.

But then she had felt his cock driving into her thigh, and she knew that to some degree her desire must have been reciprocated. Unless he was just feeling horny from the exercise? Perhaps she would have found out if Darcy had not barged in at that exact moment.

Things had been particularly awkward between them since then. Darcy had seen them, so naturally everyone in the Avengers Mansion now knew. Loki had barely said a word to her, despite the fact they shared a car out to the campsite. Now he was on the opposite side of the campfire, eyes trained on his brother, and all she could concentrate on was that tiny scrape of marshmallow.

How had he not noticed it?

Surely the density of the sticky substance would be obvious to him? What about the sweetness as he swept his tongue across his lips. Oh, how she wished he would not do that.

"A frightful tale indeed!" Thor boomed, sticking a pop-tart onto the end of a gnarled stick. It appeared Tony had finally finished his ghost story, something which Claire suspected she should have been listening to. It was either hilariously funny (as suggested by Darcy's laughter), or very disturbing (hence Steve Roger's wide eyed expression).

Now it seemed everyone's interest had turned to Thor's intriguing camp food experiment. The fire had started dimming to low embers, making the endeavour significantly more difficult. Keeping the stick in one hand, Thor reached for the pile of logs on his left hand side, only to find it utterly depleted.

"It appears we need more wood."

Tony snorted. "A brilliant deduction, Sherlock."

"Shotgun not getting it," Darcy interjected, snuggling closer to Bruce Banner.

Claire dropped her burning stick into the embers. Her legs were utterly numb from sitting for too long, and she simply wanted to get away from the visage of Loki and his stupid marshmallow. As such, she volunteered.

"I'll go with you." Loki's voice was quiet, but Claire heard every syllable as though he were whispering it in her ear. God no!

"Not the kind of wood we're looking for," Darcy snorted. Claire shot her a dark look, causing her friend to merely wink at her. Snatching a torch from the haphazard camp table, she ventured off into the darkness, circumnavigating the small cottage in which they would be sleeping, to find the woodshed.

Once the fire was completely out of sight, Loki spoke once more. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"You know what, Claire."

Claire gulped, keeping her eyes on the huge pile of bug infested wood. "We tripped, we fell... you on top of me, admittedly... but, it was-"

"Intoxicating."

Claire gulped. "We should probably get some woo-!"

"Do not ignore this!" Long fingers grasped her wrist, drawing her near to him. His body was as cool as the night air, a vast contrast to her own, which now seemed to be hotter than the campfire. "You are – a friend - Claire, but I do not think I-" He paused now, eyes glinting in the accumulation of randomly directed torch light and the illumination of the moon.

"Loki?"

"I want you, Claire. I have since the moment you walked into the mansion."

"Oh."

"Oh, meaning what?"

Claire could feel her cheeks turning the shade of ripened tomatoes. Oh gods, what was happening? How long had she wanted to hear those words, yet now they had been said, she did not know what to do about it.

"Meaning, you have marshmallow on your lip. It's driving me mad."

"I know."

"You know."

"I have been watching you staring at it." His lips brushed close to her ear, his voice a mere whisper. "I want you to lick it off."

It took every iota of self control not to groan.

Slowly, Claire turned to face him, torch falling to rest in the long grass. He was so tall, the top of her head barely reached the underside of one of his amazing cheekbones. So gorgeous. So, so gorgeous. And there was that marshmallow, taunting, inviting. Forcing herself onto tippy-toes, she took a deep breath. Her fingers curled in the soft wool of his coat, tongue tentatively reaching out to sweep the sticky substance from his lips.

He moved instantly, sucking her tongue into his mouth, lips dancing against her own. She could do nothing but latch onto the kiss, groan as his tongue darted in to her willing mouth, brushing against the back of her teeth. The wall of the woodshed collided with her back, his body tight against hers. His fingers desperately fought with the fly of her jeans, shoving the heavy denim down over her arse. Once her shoes were kicked off, the garment was discarded.

Cool tendrils of night air tortured her skin, but she barely acknowledged this as ripped her knickers from her body. The torn cotton fell like ribbons onto the dewy grass. Loki now fought with his own black jeans, freeing himself in seconds. He was rock hard, the jutting head of his cock brushing against the wet slit of her sex.

"You are fucking divine," he moaned, slipping an inch within her. "I have so looked forward to sucking that wet little cunt, licking it until you scream my name."

"Shut up and fuck me, Loki."

Loki obeyed, thrusting all the way. Claire felt every muscle stretch, every nerve scream. He was huge! She had suspected as much when she felt him against her in the gym. But dear gods...

Her thighs were dragged up around his hips, long hands gripping her tender flesh as he relentless drove into her.

The groan caught in her throat as she licked her way from his jaw to cheekbone, the muscles taut from his concentration. Emerald green eyes were locked behind his eyelids, dark lashes flayed across the pale skin of his cheeks. He was an angel, a dark, lascivious angel, but an angel none the less.

One large, long fingered hand slammed against the uneven surface of the woodshed, the din reverberating around the clearing. The pace of his thrusting increased, her fingers now gripping the tight muscles of his arse, drawing him further. It was carnal, it was delicious, and with the utterance of his first heady grunt she knew she was a lost cause.

"Loki..."

His teeth grabbed her earlobe, biting slightly harder than was necessary before he whispered that which would make her lose it all together. "I want to hear you scream my name as you come." The hand from the wall moved between them, fingertip sliding against her clit.

"Loki, oh gods, oh please, oh shit. Please. Fuck. Loki! LOKI!"

She could not breathe. Nor see. Nor hear. All she could do was feel. Every muscle thrummed, squeezing him, her eyelids so tightly shut as to cause stars to dance before her eyes. His thrusts continued, long, slow, desperately sensitive. Slipping her hands between him, she pushed him away, licking her lips as his cock bobbed with the movement.

Caring little about the uneven ground, she dropped to her knees, taking the head of his erection between her lips. He tasted of her, but she did not care. It mattered even less so as his hands grasped the back of her head, thrusting his cock deeper into her waiting mouth. Shaking fingers wrapped around the remaining length (most of it), stroking softly until he released with a jagged cry. She swallowed, licking clean the rest of his length.

"We should probably get some wood."

Her voice was pathetically weak. Retrieving her jeans from the dewy grass, she slipped into them, moving down to do up the zipper. Loki slapped her fingers away.

"The wood can wait. Spread your legs."

As though to force the issue, he moved his knee between them, wrenching them apart. The "V" of her fly was wider now, the cool air dancing upon her heated skin. Loki knelt before her, both hands slipping into the back pockets of her jeans, drawing her closer to his mouth.

Soft lips enveloped her tender flesh in a chaste kiss, before his tongue flittered through her folds. Within seconds his mouth was open against her, his licks spanning from her core to the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. She could do naught but lean against him, rocking her hips against his face. It was magnificent. He savoured every taste, dragged on every caress. She came hard and fast, his tongue lapping up her juices.

With delicate precision his fingers played with the zipper of her damp, dirty jeans. Her modesty was regained in seconds, but her heartbeat remained at a forceful gallop. The cool air could not swamp her lungs quick enough. Her eyes remained closed against the beauty of the cool, autumn evening.

Loki stood, wrapping long arms around her waist. His lips brushed her cheek, the embrace feather soft. Claire almost mewled, sliding her lips now against his in a soft, lingering kiss. Their tongues played against each other, a delicate dance, yet neither took dominance. It was soft, almost sweet after their previous embrace.

"I don't want to go back."

Loki chuckled. "Going back now might be preferable to having my brother come across us in such a compromising position."

"Or Darcy," Claire contributed, gently pushing herself from him. They ventured in silence back toward the woodshed, each gathering an armful of splintery logs. Claire barely comprehended the weight. Every nerve in her body was on fire. She wanted him again, desperately. No doubt this was how drug addicts felt: yearning for their next fix. She pondered if he felt the same way.

"Took your time, bitches." Darcy's voice called through the clearing. Thor was on his feet, his face a mirror of concern.

The fire was utterly dismal at this stage, and the God of Thunder grabbed several logs off Claire's pile to place upon the coals. The rest were thrown to his side.

"You were gone over a Midgardian hour, brother," Thor churned, poking the now engulfed logs with his pop-tart stick. "I was about to go searching for you."

"Possibly the worst idea you've ever had," Tony drawled, "apart from fire roasting pop tarts and trying to raise your goldfish in the toilet bowl."

Darcy smirked. "What exactly were you doing?"

"We found a small lake nearby," Loki interjected, as Claire turned deep shade of magenta (fortunately hidden by the shadows), "and thought we would explore."