Author's Note: Someone save me from this ship. I'm obsessed.
Her body stretched and twisted, her back arching as she let out a satisfied moan. Softly sighing in contentment, her head tilted to the side, her eyes hazy and unfocused. Quiet music floated through the air, familiar music, her mind slowly beginning to process her surroundings.
"Babe?" Her voice was quiet, not bothering to move as she called out. "Are you still up?"
A soft chuckle came from the other side of the room. "Inspiration struck me," a voice replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I could not help myself."
She rolled over finally, clutching the sheets from her bed close to her chest. Her eyes began to focus, but she squinted from the blurriness of her vision. From her spot laying on her chest, her hand fumbled around till she reached the night stand, fingers searching till they wrapped around her glasses.
Slipping them on her face, she drew the sheets tighter, shifting to her knees as she watched him. Her head tilted to the side as she narrowed her eyes, watching him. Messy brown locks of her hair obscured her vision, and she shoved the knotted strands back from her face.
She loved to watch him work, the intense focus he had as he worked, the way he seemed to bend and flow as his hand danced across the canvas, not a sound besides the gentle music playing in the background. "Is this Beethoven?"
He laughed again. "Tchaikovsky." He grinned at her, and she felt her stomach flip. "You always guess Beethoven."
"Eventually I'll be right."
"Perhaps… that is, if I ever play his music."
She gave a dramatic pout. "You are so cruel to me..."
"My sincerest apologies, my dear..." he remarked coyly. Glancing up from his canvas, he lowered the brush while beckoning her with his other hand. "How could I ever hope to make it up to you?"
A slow smirk grew on her face. "I could think of some ways…" She carefully slipped off the bed, still clutching the sheets to her chest. Her bare feet padded across the floor of the loft towards him, the sheet dragging across the floor behind her.
Reclining back, in his chair, his eyes trailed along her form, a look of hunger sparking within them. "You know, I have seen what's underneath…" As she finally reached him, his arm struck out to wrap around her waist, pulling her close. His eyes locked with hers as he purred, "There is no need to cover up in front of me…"
"Oh shush…" she muttered in reply, letting him pull her close and settling in his lap. One hand gripped the sheet in place while the other traced his jawline. Her gaze finally broke from his though, curiosity winning out as she stared at the rough outline of his newest painting. A soft gasp escaped her as she spoke, "Its beautiful…"
His face nuzzled into her hair as he gripped her tighter. "I can never get it right."
Huffing in irritation, she narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about? All of your works are breathtaking."
She could feel his breath on her neck. "Nothing could ever match the beauty of my muse…"
Her face flushed as she took in his words, staring forward at the painting. He had painted numerous masterpieces since she had met him, of people, places, all these wondrous worlds… yet it still amazed her that he could ever paint someone like her.
Not just once. But countless times.
This piece in question showed her, wrapped in sheets, body splayed across the canvas. She looked ethereal, god like, her pale skin seeming to glow against the dark green satin of the sheets, her dark hair framing her face. Her eyes were closed in blissful sleep, and her skin peeked out from under the sheets, revealing nothing yet everything at the same time.
She did not know what to say: he had always been the master of words, a romantic charmer. Each and every day, she wondered how she could be so lucky to have him in her life: the more time goes by, the more she expects it all to come crashing down, to lose him and this perfect little life they had built. Yet each day, her fears and insecurities are dashed, and she thanks whatever Gods put him in her path.
Twisting to straddle his lap, she gently pulled his face from her neck, staring into deep, emerald green eyes. Her heart beat painfully in her chest, every fear, every negative thought running through her brain, trying to stop her. Yet the words tumbled out anyway.
"I love you, Loki."
And she barely registered the shock in his eyes before this deep anguish took over his gaze. His hands quickly held her face, gently but firmly. His eyes seemed to be searching hers, a fear and worry that pained her, as if he could not believe the words she had just said. Yet she held true, her eyes not wavering from his.
His words, when he finally broke the silence, were so quiet she could barely hear them. "You… speak the truth."
It was not a question, but she answered it anyway. "I love you. I've loved you for a while, I just… needed the right moment to tell you."
His lips suddenly pressed against hers, needy, hungry, as if trying to taste the words on her mouth. "Say it again," he begged. "Please."
"I love you." Her voice was ragged as she tried to catch her breath from the kiss, but the tone no less firm than before.
Another kiss. "Again."
She laughed. "I love you."
Another kiss. "One more time."
Laughing louder, she said firmly, "I love you, you crazy man."
A half strangled laugh came from him, and he gave her a joyful grin. "I love you, Darcy. I love you more than I could say." Her heart clenched tightly, and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. But her heart nearly stopped when he spoke again.
"Marry me."
Staring off into the distance, the silent Gatekeeper's mouth twitched down into a frown, his golden eyes flashing brightly. Closing his eyes, he called out, "Guard, I need a message sent to Odin."
Quickly striding over to the Gatekeeper, the guard asked, "What has happened, Heimdall?"
Closing his eyes, his heart felt heavy. Their wayward prince had found contentment in the arms of this woman… but he could not disobey orders from his King.
"I have been watching Loki and the woman as instructed. Inform our king that their relationship has progressed, and that intervention will be needed."
The guard nodded and headed off. As Heimdall watched him slowly disappear down the Rainbow Bridge, he sighed, his heart sinking in his chest. He took no joy in his current part in ripping the young prince from his first true taste at happiness.