Note - Many thanks to a certain blackfrost writer who gave me this idea: Natasha as the pursuer. I had a blast writing the piece!

Like the Night

The mortal confused him. Loki thought all Midgardians were meaningless pawns, mere figures on a Hnefatafl board to move at will. He mentioned his theory to Thor, who instantly went into a long explanation of why that was wrong; the lecture went on and on filled with phrases like "Our duty, brother" until at last he walked out in the middle because he was thoroughly bored.

In the hallway he ran smack into the mortal who had started his train of thought. "Hey, Loki," Natasha said. She offered him an apple from the bag she had slung over one arm. "I just stole these from Bruce's lab. Want one?" The question came with a saucy wink.

"I do not think so," he began stiffly, but she pressed the fruit into his hands anyway, ran her fingers over his, and sashayed off. Her hips set up a metronome of puzzlement in his mind.

It was the third time that day Natasha had cornered him. Earlier she came to his very rooms with a cup of what was called 'iced coffee.' Later she found him in the gym and proceeded to strip down to very little right in front of him before she started a series of graceful movements.

It was all very distracting, and Loki didn't like it.

It is not as though she desires me, he reminded himself. How could she? Their first encounter had not been exactly…forthcoming. Now he was held on Midgard, free to work with the Avengers and aid them with his magic, but he was certain the female mortal wanted to punish him in her own way.

And so he continued to avoid her, ignoring her blatant flirtation at meetings and get-togethers. His nostrils flared with fury when he saw her familiar red and black figure undulating towards him at parties, her lips parted as she handed him a glass of champagne.

No, I will stay away from her, Loki decided. The apple in his hand smelled good, however, and he took a bite. The juice cascaded down his chin, and he cursed as he wiped it with one sleeve. Who knew Midgardian food could be so delicious?

When they were thrown together on a case, Loki dreaded more of the same innuendoes and veiled promises. However, the Black Widow at work was quite different – immediately she became thoroughly professional.

"I've pinpointed all the weak links," Natasha said, opening a file on her laptop. They sat together in a hotel room on Baggott Street in Dublin, the computer propped up against another bag of apples. She seemed to have a weakness for them.

Unwillingly Loki edged closer and took a look at the map she displayed. His mind clicked into high gear and he ran a set of mental computations, taking traffic patterns and street visibility into account. "This would be the most likely place," he said, pointing to one of her virtual flags.

She leaned closer, the bright screen throwing her delicate features into sharp relief. "Not bad, but you're forgetting human nature. It's the most obvious weak spot, so the syndicate is certain to have it manned with hired guns." One slim finger, the nail short and unpolished, tapped another spot. "We'll go in here instead."

"But I think…"

"Nope, I'm making the call. That's where we'll enter tomorrow." Natasha sat back and pushed her hair back with both arms as she stretched luxuriously, like a cat. "Meanwhile, we're free tonight. Want to come out to dinner with me? Drinks afterward – maybe dancing?"

Her position accentuated the exquisite lines of her body. Resolutely Loki reached for the bag of apples and selected one. "I shall stay here," he said. "You go out if you wish."

Natasha rose and slid behind his chair like a panther on the prowl. "Are you certain?" she murmured into his ear, and he couldn't stop a shudder running through him at the feel of her breath on his neck. "We could have a lot of fun together, Loki – you and I."

"Just get out and have your meal!" he insisted. "I shall be prepared for the quest tomorrow."

"Your loss." Natasha left him abruptly with a wicked laugh, seized her phone, and pressed a button. His quick vision saw a name on the screen: Niall, with a long series of numbers following it. "Hey, baby," she said into the phone as she wiggled her fingers at the scowling god in a goodbye salute. "Meet me at our pub in thirty minutes."

Loki kicked his chair, strode after her, and shouted down the hallway, "Why do you own a pub?"

The only answer was another wicked laugh as she disappeared.

The next morning he sat gloomily over a plate of sausages. He didn't like Irish bacon and compared it to salty ham, but the eggs, buttered mushrooms, and sausages were delicious. At that moment, however, he was too angry to enjoy the food.

Sleep had come late. Throughout the night he found himself at the connecting door between his and Natasha's room, listening for her return; at length he slid into a troubled slumber filled with falling stars and ruined throne rooms.

He heard a stifled murmur as the businessman sitting behind him put down his newspaper. "That's a fine-looking one," the man commented, just as Natasha slipped into the chair opposite Loki's with a happy sigh.

"There's nothing better than a big breakfast buffet after dancing and drinking all night." She winked broadly at Loki, poured herself a cup of tea, and took a sip. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, of course," he answered stiffly. "I did not hear you come in."

Her grin widened. "I bet you didn't. It was three in the morning."

It doesn't matter. Who cares how a mortal spends her evening? She can do what she desires, and I… "What were you doing until such late hours?" He couldn't stop himself asking the question.

"Having fun. Having drinks. Having a bit of a dance. You could have been there too, you know." Natasha took a huge bite of toast loaded with butter and licked her lips.

"Why are you doing this to me?" His voice was tight, strangled. "You do not even like me. Is that it? Is this some sort of mental torture?"

Natasha put down her toast. "But I do like you, Loki," she purred. He jumped as he felt her foot slide up his leg, over his knee, caress his crotch with her toes.

"I – it – we – it is time to go over our plan." Loki threw down his napkin, rose from the table, and marched out of the dining room.

She didn't follow.

The quest (or 'op', as Natasha called it) began inside a tiny antiques store. Dressed in Midgardian street clothes, they wandered into the store like any tourist couple.

Inside they were greeted by a woman in a severely cut suit. She was pleasant enough, going on about it being a "grand soft day" and asking where they stayed.

Natasha spoke for them, leaning across the counter and clasping her hands. Loki, watching her, thought how pretty she was with the rain sparkling in her hair, brighter than the diamonds under the plate glass displays. Again he wondered who Niall was. Niall. What a ridiculous name!

"I'm looking for something for my boyfriend," Natasha said in a stage whisper, holding up her palm and pointing to Loki. "Do you have a Mullingar Half-Hunter pocket watch in stock?"

The effect on the suited woman was electric. Her eyes widened, she gasped, and one hand felt for something under the counter. Instantly Natasha's arm shot out and captured her wrist. "Don't sound that alarm or I'll rip out your throat," the Black Widow said.

Loki, just as surprised as the woman, felt a bolt of electricity go straight to his groin at the sight of Natasha's ferocity. He had to shuffle a bit awkwardly to hide his erection; not now, not ever, he told himself.

The woman cursed and held up her hands in an 'I surrender' gesture. Natasha raised her skirt, withdrew a gun from her thigh holster, and pointed it at the clerk. "Stanislaus," she said in a voice no longer breathy but pure steel. "I know he's here. Lock up and open the back for us."

The female hesitated. "I have seen her hit a direct target from a hundred paces," Loki added. "I should do as she says."

The back of the shop widened into a long passage lined with metal and several locked doors. The female led them to the end room; by the time she slid her key card through the slot her eyes were leaking. "They'll kill me for this," she sniffled.

Natasha slapped the woman's cheek gently. "I'll get you out if you are truly innocent. If you're not…" She drew one finger across her throat.

The door opened. A group of three men sat there, arguing in hushed voices. When they saw Natasha and Loki, one of them shouted and pulled out an object that looked, to Loki, like a small egg encased in metal.

Feeling in her belt, Natasha pulled off a disc and tossed it into the center of the group. She pushed the female inside and, with the same movement, put her arms around Loki to push him out of the way. "Widow's Kiss," she whispered into his neck. "It'll knock them out instantly."

"Thank you, agent," Loki said stiffly. He disentangled himself from her clutches. "As a god, I am immune to such devices…" A series of hacking coughs overtook him and he was unable to finish.

"Send backup and take them out," Natasha said into her phone. She stowed it in her shirt, grasped the choking god around his waist, and towed him firmly outside into the fresh air.

"Perfect." Natasha sat back from the laptop and hit Send. Her report, rewritten three times and edited to include the extra information she had found in a hidden safe, went on its digital way to SHIELD to be decoded and poured over by the techs and info pros. "We're done early, and the pubs are still open. Want to go have a drink? Or food? Or both?"

Loki recalled his erection in the antique shop, her toes in his crotch, the raindrops in her hair. "No, thank you. But," he hastily added, "you're not going to meet that fool called Niall, are you?"

As soon as she raised an eyebrow he realized his mistake. "How did you know his name?" One corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. "Loki, has your demigod ass been spying on me?"

"Not at all." He shook his head firmly. "You told me when you went out."

"That's a lie. I never said his name."

Loki rewound the scene in his head and realized with belated fury she was right. "Perhaps I just am good at guessing," he hazarded.

Natasha rose with lithe grace and padded to the window. He heard a slight rush of air and a series of clicks; the next instant, he found he was cuffed to the chair. "How did you discover my business?" she murmured into his ear. Her hair tickled his neck.

Loki struggled against the restraints. "Agent, this is highly irregular! Let me out at once."

She swung one long leg over him and sat on his lap. "Nope. We both know you could break that chair and those cuffs in an instant. You want me to tie you down."

The room seemed to get very hot. In despair Loki felt himself grow hard again under the pressure of her firm derriere. He couldn't resist rearing up, and the feeling of his length between the sweet globes of her ass was ecstatic. "Yes," he managed to stutter.

Natasha's face was a hair's breadth away from his. "Yes what?"

"Yes, I will…" He meant to say Go to the pub, but she cut him off by brushing her lips over his.

"I'll stop right now if you want," she whispered. "But I won't ask again. This is your final chance."

That was enough to make him clench his fists, burst the silly links around his wrists, and pick Natasha up in one motion. Her legs wound around his waist and she moaned as he strode to the bed, dropped her onto the mattress, fell on top of her to plunge his tongue in her mouth. She tasted like the apples from Banner's lab.

Loki's breath hitched in his chest. Desire came over him like a dizzy rush, as though he had drunk an entire barrel of mead. "Natasha," he gasped.

"You're one hell of a challenge, Loki," she smiled. "I simply had to have you." Arching her back, she captured his lower lip in her teeth and bit just enough for him to feel the implied danger she represented – the foremost assassin in SHIELD. And she lay underneath him like an offering. For the moment, at least, she was his.

The very idea was so intoxicating Loki felt he grew close to spending then and there. He closed his eyes, willed himself to calm down. After centuries of sex, he wondered, why is this woman so exciting?

Those thoughts fled as she unbuckled his belt, pulled it out and whipped it around his neck. "Now, I want to have some mischief." Natasha's eyes sparkled as she pulled him closer with the leather strap.

Loki felt a whimper force its way out of his mouth. He couldn't bear it. To keep himself from coming he pulled away, pushed down until he was level with her legs. The dress she was wearing rode up, and he was faced with her thong and the straps on her thighs holding her weapons. With a roar of lust he ripped the flimsy silk open and spread her like a feast, licking circles around her core until a rush of sweet fluid told him she was just as lusty as he was. Gods, had anyone ever made him so desperately hard before?

But he refused to fuck her until she had come for him at least once. Gently he pushed one finger inside, thumbed her clit as he licked underneath, on top, varying the motion until he found the perfect rhythm and her hips tilted under him. "That's it, baby," she purred. "Oh, Loki – I knew you'd be so good. I couldn't wait to have you in my bed. It's so sweet…"

So sweet. He had never tasted anyone so delicious. And as she cried and shook under his hands and tongue, Loki hummed against her quivering center to bring her over the edge.

Which she did with a rush and a growling series of curses, some in a harsh language he assumed was a dialect of Russian. When she stilled, her hands curled into his hair and she pulled him up to lie on top of her. "Now you're going to fuck me, Loki. Do you understand?" Natasha followed her order with a deep kiss, moaning as she tasted herself on his mouth.

Gods, I have no other choice, he thought in confusion. A shout was wrest from him as he slid inside her, so wet and warm she was – a lovely secret all for him. She screamed too, praising his size and the way he filled her, so perfectly.

He couldn't stop. If a throng of Chitauri had entered the room at that moment – or worse, if the Stark fellow had burst in with cameras and a host of sly comments, he would have to keep riding Natasha right in front of them. It was just too incredible.

"Loki," she moaned. "Loki."

"Natasha," he whispered, holding himself back with a shudder. "I thought you hated me. I thought you would lure me in and leave me unfulfilled."

"Maybe I would have," she grinned. "That was before I felt how nice your cock is inside me. Now, stop talking and fuck me some more."

She rolled him onto his back and pulled the strap of the belt slightly around his neck, enough to make his breath whistle. All the while her hips never stopped, gyrating over his until, maddened, he pulled her on completely and stood up. Legs shaking, he fell against the wall to thrust into her, biting and growling at her neck.

"Yes! Loki, you're even better than I imagined…those nights alone when I fantasized about you…"

His eyes widened. "You fantasized about me?"

Natasha's eyelids descended in a glaze of lust. "Of course. You're like walking sex in a horned helmet, you know."

Loki paused, willing himself to hold back for a few more moments. It felt far too wonderful to stop. "And did you touch yourself when you pictured us together?"

"Of course I did. The thought of you always made me have the most delightful orgasms."

"Oh, Natasha." Breathless, Loki sank onto the floor with her still astride. "My Natasha. I – I never felt anything like this before. Ever."

Her response was to kiss him deeply, move slowly over his body, and when he rolled her onto her back to push himself in with long, steady strokes, each leading to a higher level of ecstasy, she wound her legs around his back, locked her ankles to hold him inside. "Me either," she gasped.

That little whisper brought him to the edge, slammed his body over the cliff they skirted and he felt a huge jet of hot semen rush out, pour inside her. She screamed and shook underneath him, lost in their final throes.

"I do not want you to telephone the man named Niall anymore," Loki demanded.

Natasha smirked. "No need. I just found my new toy."

He drank the wine in his glass and reached across her to put it on the small table by the bed. The sheets pooled at her waist as he bit one pink, coned breast, licked the other. "Natasha," he said in a mild voice, "I am not a toy. You made the decision to play with fire today, and I will sear anyone who tries to get between us."

"Good." She picked up his glass, refilled it from the bottle, and drank from the same side he had touched. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Loki replied. Firmly he replaced the wineglass back on the table and pulled Natasha back into his arms. She had set the trap, he considered, but soon she would find just how wild a creature was caught inside.