NOTE - The idea for this oneshot came to me last night, and I'm pretty sure I dreamed about these two sexing it up on Jotunheim. I couldn't stop thinking about them being savage and vicious together; hence, this AU piece.

Hearthstone

Prince Loki knew danger was close as soon as he approached the tiny dwelling with a fresh hind slung on his back. He abandoned the kill in the snow and dashed forward, ignoring the crystals of ice and snow whirling into his face. Had something happened to his mate while he slaughtered their meal?

The hut was round, compact against the onslaught of snow. Loki pulled open the door and shouted her name: "Natasha!"

Nothing moved inside beyond the flames in the hearth.

The prince flung his head back and howled. Fury coursed through his veins, and he knew nothing beyond the desire to find his mate, to bring her to safety within their little home.

An answering howl from the nearby mountains and Jut pines made him start, run out of the dwelling, and towards the sound. Natasha – she was nearby. The white furs at his midsection rose and fell with each step, tickling his linga, but he ignored the sensation. He wanted nothing more than to find his mate.

Among the trees, a smaller shadow broke from the larger puddle of gloom. Natasha prowled forth, a motionless burden slung over one shoulder. When she saw Loki she flung her head back and howled again; he answered her cry at once.

"Intruders," Natasha explained as Loki loped forward, panting with bloodlust. A grin displayed her very white teeth. "I saved the second one for you." The thing she carried on her shoulder was a Greitag, newly dead. Blood spouted from the stump of its neck; Loki's mate must have found the thing and slaughtered it in the hills.

An answering snarl wrinkled Loki's nose. He watched Natasha run back to the dwelling before he turned to kill the Greitag's pair.

The snow and ice increased. Loki snickered, thinking of the intruders' discomfort. He would dispatch anyone who dared to enter their lands – for in his own mind he had already claimed the surrounding hills for him and Natasha. There they would hunt and fuck as much as they wished among the pines, until their bones crumbled together in white dust under the hearthstone of their dwelling.

When he returned with his kill, Loki saw his mate had already hung her trophy on one side of the dwelling. He found a pole for his prize and jammed the thing onto it – the bodies would sway in the bitter winds and freeze to the spot.

The double kill made his linga rock hard as he burst through the door, and instantly he could smell his mate's arousal. Delicious it was, like a siren call to his blood, and he howled again when she appeared in the back of the dwelling. "A pair of sentinels to guard our dwelling," she quipped.

Loki didn't hesitate. He pushed her back against the wall and fastened his teeth on her throat, marking her as his. With desperate hands he thrust aside her furs and growled as she twined her legs around his hips, settling onto him with a delicious rhythm.

His mate ground against him, using the stone wall of their dwelling as ballast to arch up on his linga and nip his chest, his chin, any spot of skin she could find. The young Jotun prince paused his vigors for a moment to frame her blue face, cheeks purpling with desire. Her scarlet hair, so rare it hadn't been seen in those lands for millennia, shook over her eyes. "Mine," Natasha growled. "You are mine, Loki."

"Yours," he agreed. His voice rose to a shout as he slammed back into her and her clinging arms drew him close, to bite those marks he already left under her red curls. Anyone seeing them would know Natasha was his mate, and the thought made him come with huge bursts of fulfilled lust.

While Loki dispatched the second Greitag, Natasha went out to find her mate's kill. The hind was just starting to ice under the driving snow, but she was able to cut its neck, bleed the creature, gut it, and remove a haunch for their meal. By the time Loki had climaxed inside her (and the way he bit her after they were done let her know it was only the start to their loveplay that night) the meat was cooking nicely over the fire.

"Make the sauce," she ordered. Loki went to a side shelf, removed a branch of ice berries, and stripped them from the twigs. She watched his fingers, so long and clever, mash the berries in a stone bowl. He looked up and grinned at her; she knew he could smell her lust for him. Combined with his recent release, the musk was intoxicating.

Loki poured a generous dollop of spice wine over the berries and tipped the bowl to pour it over the roasting meat. Fat sputtered over his chest, and Natasha jerked her chin in the direction of the door. "Bath."

Her mate nodded and followed her out into the snow. They ignored the stiffening bodies on either side of the door and tore off their furs, plunging into deep banks of white. Natasha giggled at the ice on her skin, so cold and invigorating; it stung where she was warmest of all. Later, she knew, Loki would demand more of her, and she wanted to be ready for him.

A splatter of snow hit her in the face, and she gasped; her mate was in a playful mood. Quickly Natasha scooped up two handfuls of the stuff and ground it into Loki's hair, whatever parts of him she could reach. He managed to hook her legs and pull her on top of him for an icy kiss; as they rolled together in the glistening white, his erection reared up between his powerful thighs.

It was tempting to mount him in there among the hills and pines – they had done so before, the cold only adding to their passion. However, the Jotun prince obviously had something else in mind. He held out one long arm to help her up; seizing their furs they raced, hand in hand, back to the dwelling.

In front of the fire, Natasha's mate insisted on combing her curls with his fingers, teasing out the little knots and snarls until the mane streamed down her back. Then it was his turn, and he reclined between her legs while she combed his black locks back from his face, taking time to nip him with her teeth whenever he wasn't looking. That earned her a bright smile, and she thought he might be ready for her.

"I thought," Prince Loki said, "we could try mannaðr nǫkkurr tonight."

Natasha's heart stuttered in her chest. Not only was it expressly forbidden by the clerics; Mannaðr nǫkkurr was incredibly difficult to achieve. She and her mate had only accomplished it once after a long series of ruses and disguises. They met in an abandoned attic and cleaved together in the illegal ritual, shaking together with lust and danger. The memory of that night was a shining star among the stone turrets of the ruined city, the fallen palace they had been forced to abandon when the armies came.

Under his furs around his hips, she eyed Loki's linga as it twitched to life. Behind it lay another appendage, his vitaðr. She held its female twin behind her own dæli, but making them merge required fierce concentration and sustained lovemaking. Still, when both were inside, those twin towers plunging into her – why, 'twould be worth it. The very thought made her fling back her head and howl, and her mate joined her before claiming her neck and mouth in passionate kisses.

The idea was to bring Natasha (and himself) close to ecstasy many times. Loki and his mate would have to walk a broadsword's edge between edging each other and sudden climax. If he brought her off too soon the entire effort would be for naught. The thought of disappointing his mate made him howl again until he felt her nails scratch the sensitive skin at the cleft of his thighs. Panting, he reclined against her and tilted back his head so his mate could whisper into his ear.

"You can do it," she said, dragging her nails close – ah, so close! – to his linga. "We will tell each other stories here by the fire and eat the hind you slaughtered for me before we fuck."

"And we can build a Svipan," Loki said. He felt his chest loosen; of all the females he had bedded in his lifetime, only Natasha was able to keep up with both his lust and magic. She assured him it was the same for her – his mate had arrived at the former palace thoroughly tested with many a dazed Jotun longing for her.

And she was his.

Loki turned and pulled her onto his lap. Neither had bothered to put on their furs, and her nakedness settled against him. At once it felt familiar and arousing. "Which story would you like to hear me tell you?"

"Mischief, of course." Her blood-red eyes gleamed in the fire; Loki had never seen anything so beautiful.

He told her about the pranks he played on his brother when they were boys, filling his bed with snow and his furs with icicles. Natasha's husky laughter echoed in the round dwelling as Loki described his brother's face, shocked and appalled at the slush lapping his feet when he lay to sleep.

"I wish I could have seen it!" She tilted her head back and looked down at him, laughter making the one dimple in her chin pop out. So subtle it was – Loki had never succeeded in capturing it with his lips. He tried again, but already it was gone, the little, cunning mark that was pure Natasha. "And what story shall I tell you?"

Loki ran his fingers over her bottom to pull her nearer as he kissed her nipples. Dark blue against the blue of her skin… he ran his tongue over the lines on her neck and belly, and she laughed once more. "Tell me about one of your former lovers," he teased.

"Ah." Natasha settled herself more firmly in his lap. "I could describe Barn, the fiercest soldier of the last wars. He was known for the size of his linga, and I when I heard about it I had to have him. Later he marched his regiment past our village, and my heart hammered in my chest at the sight of his markings, so dark against his white furs."

Loki groaned. "And did he see you?"

"Of course he did. We held a banquet that night, and he spent all evening by my side courting me. Naturally, I made certain his horn was always filled with spice wine and his plate emptied of meat – I wanted him hungry for me."

"And was he?"

His mate captured his bottom lip between her teeth and bit it. "Yes. He sent his men for me that night. Naturally I told them to fuck off. The next night he sent his captain, and I threatened to hack off a limb of the courier."

Her violence made blood rush to his hardened sex. "I can just picture it – your beauty and his bewilderment. And the next night?"

"The next night Barn came himself. What he lacked in intelligence he made up for in prowess, although he fucked like an animal – one position only, again and again. He was large and thick, and he took me from behind as we bent over my sleeping furs. I told him I would cut it off if he didn't please me, and he thumbed my pearl – this, I mean." Natasha reached for Loki's hand and placed it over her cleft; together they stroked her clit until it softened and swelled.

"And did you climax?"

"I did, several times, but it was … it was…"

"It was normal. A logical conclusion to the act." Loki knew exactly what she meant.

His mate nodded. "Yes. It wasn't the subtle fire you light within me."

He couldn't help kissing her then, tasting her tongue and scraping his teeth against it. Loki wanted every inch of her. His linga was so hard it ached, and behind it he felt the slight tingling of his vitaðr ready to emerge from its hidden folds. "I would have liked to be there while you fucked him," he declared. "I could have hidden under your furs and licked you even as he fumbled at your cunt – it would have been quite dangerous with us nearly being caught any second."

Natasha sucked in her breath and rocked against him. "It would have been like the night with the princess of Svartelheim – do you remember?" Loki had fucked the girl with Natasha hiding in his room, and as the frail thing mewled and squirmed under him, she had crept out to suck his toes, tongue his thighs without the princess realizing what they did.

That was the night he knew he had to have her for the rest of his days as his mate.

"I do remember," Loki breathed. "You were so naughty, such a vixen with your red curls. I simply had to set my trap."

"And you caught me."

"And I caught you."

The meat finished cooking. Loki removed the haunch from the fire and sliced it into two trenchers. Their supply of wine was running low; soon he would have to go and steal some more from one of the lower realms. Natasha could come with him on the quest, he considered – the thought of her pirating with him, so deadly and beautiful, to plunder the Dwarves' cellars made his breath hitch in his throat.

They sat on the broad hearthstone, still naked and cross-legged on the floor, never moving their eyes from each other. His mate bit deeply into the haunch and licked its juices from her arm. At that Loki threw down his own food and leaned forward to tongue the rest.

Their meal finished, Loki prepared to reach for her and start a Svipan, but his mate evaded him. "I made Sne," she announced. "You are going to eat it off my belly."

Natasha went to the shelf and brought back a bowl filled with Loki's favorite white custard. She dipped her finger in the stuff and trailed it over her chest as he got up on all fours to watch closely. "Lower," Loki demanded.

With a wink, Natasha poured a dribble over her pearl and dæli, and he knelt in front of her. The flames behind them popped as Loki ate the Sne from her flesh – spiced with arousal and the flavor belonging only to his mate. He never had anything so delicious in his young life. It was mischievous and forbidden; if anyone caught them at it they could be hanged for crimes of perversion.

He lapped at his mate's pearl, unable to stop himself, and with a cry she pulled him off with his hair; he growled and snapped as she tugged his scalp. "So close!" Natasha shouted. "Ah, Loki, you bring me just to the edge."

"Perhaps it is time for a Svipan to cool our blood a little." Indeed his linga felt ready to explode, as though the merest touch would make him spurt his seed over his mate. He wanted it inside her, and the prickling behind it told him his vitaðr was preparing to emerge.

Natasha nodded and knelt. Together they raised their arms and chanted; a long gold strand appeared in the air. Quickly she caught it and knotted it into the ceremonial helix; Loki exulted as he saw her practiced, economical movements. His former lovers had prepared Svipan with him, naturally, but only Natasha was able to stick the ceremony as long as he could, only she could weave a helix that encompassed his imagination thoroughly.

The shining knots glimmered in the flames. Intent on their ceremony, Natasha caught the threads he spun and created longer and more complex figures until he saw what she was doing: painting a dragon of gilded air. The dream-dragon huffed, and when she completed its body, the thing bellowed a long blast of fire, flapped its wings, and flew into the hearth and up the chimney.

Loki collapsed back onto the floor. His heart hammered in his chest; never had he seen anything so savage, so lovely. Dimly he heard his mate say his name, and he reached for her, felt her crawl over his legs and breast to nestle within his arms. "Never," he managed to gasp. "I never…"

"I know." His mate's voice was filled with triumph. She knew she held him enthralled. "To bed, us."

They lay pressed together in the sleeping furs. Carefully Loki settled one between him and Natasha as a barrier so he wouldn't press into her right away; his heated blood cried out for her body, but he wanted to wait. Nevertheless, his mischief made certain the fur tickled her most sensitive spots as they kissed and bit each other.

The fire had died down to a bed of coals. When the feeling in his loins got too intense, Loki wrenched himself away from Natasha's arms and loped to the fire; he built it back up so it would burn all night. Outside their 'sentries' guarded their door. He fitted the heavy bar on the door and added a dose of enchantment to hold it in place.

They were safe in their own little stone dwelling.

Trembling with need, Loki came back to his mate's arms. Easily she spread for him – lips, teeth, thighs. "Do you ever miss the palace?" she asked.

Loki shrugged. "Perhaps those lost luxuries would be nice from time to time. We could order a line of maids to oil your hair and skin for my touch – would you like that?"

"Mmmmm. Indeed. And they could oil you as well."

"Mmmmm. And we would wrestle together while they watched, mouths watering for me. And they would despair with the knowledge that I am yours."

Natasha flinched, closed her eyes, and gasped. "My kǫpuryrði," she said. "It's – oh, Loki, it is ready for you."

Yes, it was. He could sense a new scent, a layer of desire in his mate; the siren call made his vitaðr rear out of its secret spot. "Natasha," he whimpered, and he bit her neck fiercely.

"Now?"

"Now."

With one sure thrust he drove his linga and vitaðr inside, both parts connecting with her. His mate screamed and trembled underneath him; the feeling was ecstatic. Mannaðr nǫkkurr meant he could feel everything she felt, and it was the same for her – he could thrust and receive the thrusting, both at once, experience the ecstatic hardness of his prick and the slippery little pearl between her legs. How it fluttered beneath his fingers!

To plunge and flop between her legs, although it was all he desired, could destroy the fragile bond. Gently Loki set up a careful rhythm, one his mate followed instinctively. The coupling was deep, intense, and they grinned against each other's mouths. They were in perfect sync. He twisted his fingers in her copper curls, pulled her head back to mark her throat once more. She was his, and everyone would know it. Any other intruder would see his marks or smell Loki's sex on his mate and realize what they had done against the wall and in their sleeping furs. No one would dare to touch her or even look at her unless he ordered it.

She smiled again, and Loki realized the act had reached a new level. His mate could read his thoughts, and quickly he called to mind her beauty and wild grace – those musings would please her as she twined beneath him. And she was thinking of him. So deep was her desire he could feel it slipping into his mind and heart, as though those fucked as well. Mind fucked. Heart fucked. Every inch of him belonged to Natasha, his mate.

Their fingers twisted together; his other hand slipped under her rear to cup her ass and pull her closer. He wanted to climb inside her skin.

And for a moment it seemed thus – that they were one being in the furs, mated on every level. The pleasure sang in Loki's blood with primal longing, and dimly he realized they screamed, shouting with delight and longing.

The tickling in his prick became an intense delight, throbbing deep within his frame to make him tremble. His mate trembled as well, and they shook together so violently the furs scattered. Air caressed his limbs and her skin – he could feel her walls shaking around him and himself inside her.

Gods, he was going to explode! The entire room turned red, and with huge roar Loki jerked his hips forward and felt his seed spurt forth, huge jets of desire. It had never been so hot, so exciting, so desperate. And his mate was releasing as well, and he could feel it on top of his own spending. He scratched his nails down her back, bit her lips and throat, and shouted his love into her skin, her hair – his mate. His. Hers.

Who knew how much later their voices returned? Natasha still shook as she pushed the black locks out of her mate's eyes. Carefully he turned to capture her gaze with his, and together they nodded.

There were no words. She knew and he knew exactly what they had just done. In the frigid realm of Jotunheim love was forbidden. Should anyone discover their passion, they could be put to death in one of the few remaining enclaves of their dwindling race.

But the door was bolted, and his enchantment held fast. For the rest of their time they would hunt and fuck together in their little stone dwelling by the hills and pines, and one day their bones would crumble together in white dust under the hearthstone.