Cold Comfort
Loki was asleep on Natasha's pillow, breaking one of her major rules, when she returned from the bathroom. She had a deep barrier when it came to nonsense like cuddling or staying over. Barton was allowed to sleep on the couch if they stayed up too late drinking beer or watching one of his baseball games. Anyone else had to leave when she wanted to get some sleep.
Natasha rubbed the beading on the rim of her vodka glass and frowned at the motionless god. Her shoulder was giving her hell, a recent op compounding an old injury. Her super serum neutralized most issues, but there was a XM25 fragment from a smart bullet lodged under the fifth vertebra. It would take surgery and follow-up physical therapy to heal. She had no time for that shit, along with everything the process entailed: hospital stay, visitors, get-well-soon cards…
She shuddered, swallowed the last of the spirits in her glass, and pounded it onto the nightstand loudly enough to wake the neighbors. Loki never moved. His face was calm, eyelashes fanned over high cheekbones, eyebrows slightly raised as though his dreams astonished him by the breadth of the visions. Natasha rubbed her shoulder and considered her version of therapy for the injury. Shooting session with Clint in the gym. Huge bottle of vodka. A long bout of sex with Loki. And now, sleep – as soon as she could get him out of her bed.
"Hey." Natasha plopped onto the mattress and shook him. "It's late. You've got to get out of here so I can get some sleep."
His eyelids flickered, and before she knew what was happening Natasha found herself drawn into the pillow, back against Loki's chest, one arm under her neck, the other curving up to cup the same shoulder that hurt so much. "Hey!" she shouted. "I don't do this kind of thing. Let me go, dumb ass!" She struggled, but the silent god never moved.
Before Natasha could kick him in the crotch she felt his palm grow cool, even colder than his usual temperature. Under his fingers the skin of her shoulder chilled, reaching under the layers of skin to the muscles, even bone. It felt incredible. Her protests died, and Natasha tried moving a bit closer. Loki's breath evened against her hair, although his thumb moved in a soft, slow rhythm against the place where she ached the most. It seemed he knew her inside and out.
Just a few minutes, Natasha promised herself. Under his touch the grinding ache she lived with dulled, stopped stabbing her with the constant reminder that her salary meant compromising her own flesh.
The Doppler effect of a passing ambulance woke her. Natasha jumped to high alert instantly, hit the floor with her Glock ready, pushed the door open with her toe. Someone was in her apartment, setting her nerves to screaming point.
The intruder was in her kitchen, making breakfast. Loki put two steaming plates on her tiny kitchen bar and raised one eyebrow at the pistol. "I promise it will be delicious," he drawled. "No need to shoot me just yet."
"Nobody eats with me." Natasha lowered the gun, prepared to kick his butt out of her apartment. Despite the mind-blowing sex, she always knew it would be a mistake to hook up with such a sarcastic asshole – not to mention he had broken two of her rules in less than 24 hours.
Loki's eyes shuttered, and his lips spread in one of his depraved grins. "What about your shoulder?" He lifted a fork filled with what looked like Eggs Benedict and held it in front of her lips.
"It's…" Natasha stopped. The pain was gone. Experimentally she swiveled her head, rolled her shoulders. "Howja know about it, anyway? What the hell, Loki?"
He waved the fork. "I have my ways."
Damn him. The food smelled incredible. Natasha took a bite, closed her eyes as bacon, eggs, and butter combined on her tongue. There was coffee to go with it, hot and strong. Somehow he had gotten his hands on fresh figs, so cool and ripe they burst from their skins.
Natasha and Loki ate in silence. At least he didn't attempt breakfast conversation, but the Glock was tucked in her waistband just in case. Loki took a sip of coffee, dug in the pocket of his robe, and produced a leather-bound book with what looked like runic writing on the spine and opened it to read. After that she was able to relax and enjoy the coffee, eggs, and freedom from the constant pain.
When they finished, Natasha grabbed the plates and slung them in the sink. By the time she emerged, the shower was already hissing, and she gritted her teeth. Rule number three: no one showered in her apartment.
"Get the fuck out," she stormed, bursting into the tiny room.
At least, it had been tiny. Loki had transformed it into an impossible space, lined with thick carpets. An alabaster sink with sluiced faucets sat in a long expanse of granite counter. White towels hung from heated racks. There was a bath sunk into the floor, and huge windows of old-fashioned wavy mullions revealed a magical view: long green lawns with tree-lined avenues and stone courts in the distance.
As for the shower, it was glassed off in the far corner – a long expanse with what looked like five shower-heads. The god of mischief was squirting shampoo into his long, black hair under one of them. "I can soothe your shoulder again, agent, if you wish it," he called.
A cool breeze brushed over her, and Natasha saw her pajamas had disappeared. Fuck. She strode to the glass barrier, yanked it open, and yelped as her bones ground together with the action. Loki shook his head and drew her in with firm, soapy hands. "Your temper will be the death of you," he murmured into her neck.
"That's ironic, coming from you." She couldn't help moaning and tilting her head back when his clever fingers found the ache, soothed her muscles.
"We really must do something permanent about this," he commented. "If you come with me to Asgard the healers could take care of you."
Natasha shook water out of her eyes. "See, that's exactly what I don't want. No hospitals, no visitors, no Oh Natasha You Really Must Take Better Care of Yourself."
"Mm. I couldn't agree more." The combination of warm water and Loki's cool palms was turning her knees into jelly. "But you are talking about backwards Midgardian medicine. I assure you in Asgard there would be no need to stay longer than a few hours. Hence no visitors, no solicitous fools."
"Plus, it's another of my rules. I don't go on vacations with other people, so you can forget your little jaunt."
"Rules, such delightful things – for me to break. I have already broken your others, yes? So why not this one while we are at it?" He cupped her breast, skimmed the tender skin over her abdomen.
She managed to come to her senses, break away from Loki's grasp, and turn to face the laughing god. Fists on her hips, Natasha frowned. "Why do you care? I get the feeling your concerns are all for yourself."
"Exactly." Smoothly Loki drew her back into his arms and nuzzled her neck. "I have extensive plans for your body, agent, and they don't include the tiny hitch of pain you think I wouldn't notice when we assume some of our more interesting positions."
"Interesting positions, right. Like this one? Shower corner #72?" Natasha closed her eyes and allowed him to walk them back and lift her against the cool stone (it felt divine against her sore muscles) before he wound her legs around his waist. "So this is all self-interest, right?"
"Exactly." He kissed her temple, earlobe, neck. "All self-interest. Come with me to Asgard, agent."
"No, I really can't."
The thick head of his cock pressed against her clit, circled it in just the right rhythm. "Come with me, Natasha."
"No."
He splayed one hand on her chest to hold her up as he bent, licked the quivering flesh. Damn, he really wasn't playing fair. Natasha gasped under the ministrations from his tongue, the teasing licks just off-center, the long swirl when she couldn't hold back any longer, stopping just as she was on the verge.
"Come with me." Loki's mouth tasted of her and his own virile flavor. He thumbed her clit, his prick hovering at the slick entrance.
"No…"
"Come." His whisper was intense in her ear as he slid the tip inside.
Natasha's hips jerked forward by themselves, she could have sworn, but he held her back with that same firm grip. "I…fuck, Loki."
The same depraved grin. "Very well, but only if you say Yes."
"Fuck you." The words expelled from her mouth with her breath, coming hot and fast with desire. "Yes. Okay? Happy now?"
A shiver feathered his long frame. "Thank the gods. I couldn't have held back much longer." Loki slipped inside and Natasha arced into him, shouting his name.
That night she made him stay, told him to ice her shoulder again. As she slid into sleep, Natasha felt she was falling, falling off a narrow bridge into deep water, so sharp and clear and cold the sensation stole her breath away.