Author's Note: I have no idea why I feel like M&S needs two author's notes when I never do that for Natural Selection. Speaking of that story, this would technically be chapter 15.5.

Alright, reader, here goes my first attempt at smut. Get out your juicer because we're making lemonade. (Ack, I'm so nervous...)

Chapter 2

Loki needed Jane. She was the key to getting the tesseract and... that was all. He may appreciate her intelligence, her drive and passion, her unassuming beauty, but none of that meant anything. She was a means to an end. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

He just needed to calm his racing heart and still his trembling hands. Especially if he wanted to finish weaving another dream for her before she woke up.

Being in Jane's New Mexico lab made the process of building a backdrop easier. He filled it in though. Made it lived in. As if she had never left for SHIELD or Stark Tower. He remembered it clearly: the clutter of paper printouts from the multitude of scanners and equipment littering the tables and shelves. The little kitchen area. The telescope pointed out of the far window. The couch with a blanket haphazardly tossed over it. After Erik and Darcy had continued on with their lives, the lab had become more of a home to her than the trailer parked next to it.

He added the finishing touches, then located Jane's energy signature to pull her mind, her essence to the dream-world.

She materialized on the couch, exactly where he wanted her, still very much asleep. Her limbs were sprawled out with her leg thrown off the edge and her hair wild. This was a common enough scene. That is, when she actually made it to the couch, instead of simply drifting off on the table where she worked.

His feet carried him to her, as they often had when he found her like this. Back when he was assessing the level of threat she had posed to Asgard. Back before the tesseract had confined him and Thor to Midgard. Before he knew the truth of his foster family, of his true nature. That he was detestable. The monster parents told their children about at night. A Frost Giant.

He clenched his eyes shut and fought to push those thoughts to the furthest recess of his mind. Now was not the time. He needed to stay focused on his objective. The seduction of Jane Foster.

After a deep breath, he opened his eyes and studied the soft lines of her face and neck. His gaze continued downward and his lips quirked up at the sight of her ratty nightshirt. It was the antithesis of sexy, but they were her favorite and he did find them strangely alluring.

The threadbare cloth was so thin, it did little to conceal the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples. The length extended just to her upper thighs, exposing a bare expanse of skin down to her delicate feet and surprisingly painted toenails. Always a deep red. He didn't know when she took the time to attend to them, but he was appreciative of her efforts.

There was no questioning his attraction to this mortal. His body wanted her, to feel and taste every inch of her. And his desire had only grown since the last dream. It was becoming an unbearable urge.

An idea occurred to him to act out a normal, mundane dream of them playing house He waved his hand at the little table next to them and a steaming cup of coffee and a fruit platter filled with her favorites appeared there.

He sat on the edge of the couch and ran his fingers along the side of her face to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Jane," he said low and soft.

She stirred slightly, but did not wake.

He bent over and kissed her at the juncture of her cheek and ear. "Love," he whispered, "it's time for you to break your fast."

Her eyes flickered open, groggily at first, then rapidly at her surprise. She sat up and scooted back until the armrest blocked her retreat. He didn't try to stop her.

"Come now, Jane." He reached for the platter and plucked a strawberry from the bundle. "You wanted me to wake you so you can get back to work, but first you must eat."

When she didn't take the proffered fruit, he scooted closer to her. "Whatever is the matter? Did you have an upsetting dream?"

She only blinked at him.

He furrowed his brows. Did he not perform the spell correctly? Was only part of her here with him?

In a flash, her hand lashed out to strike him, but this he did not allow. He caught it and smiled. Then he dipped in and placed a gentle kiss on her inner wrist. "A little playtime before work, then?"

"Loki." She tried to wrench her arm free.

He tossed the strawberry to place his hand on her bare thigh as he slowly kissed his his way to her inner elbow. "Yes, love?"

She gulped and he could smell the sudden flare of her arousal and feel her pulse pounding under his fingertips. It threatened to overcome his tight control.

"Where's... where's Thor?"

He suppressed a growl of a disapproval. "The same place he always is." He grabbed her hips and pulled her down to a reclining position again. Her nightshirt rode up to his wrists and just barely exposed the black cloth of her underclothes.

She squeaked, latching onto his forearms for stability, but she didn't resist him. "And where is that?"

He sighed. "Jane, you know where. In Asgard. He is King, remember?"

"And we...?"

Sliding his hand down to her calf, he lifted it, then maneuvered himself to sit between her legs. "Are together, a couple, or whatever Midgardian term you're using now." He kissed her knee, then massaged and suckled her tender inner thighs.

"How—" She cleared her throat. "Did we..." She sucked in a breath. "And how... how long? Why—" Another gasp. "Why are we here and not in Asgard—"

Her words were cut off by a shuddering breath as he swept in and nipped at the black cloth. He needed her to stop thinking. If this was going to work, he needed her to let go.

He inhaled her distinctly feminine aroma, lush and vibrant. His fingers itched to feel the liquid silkiness of her juices accumulating at the juncture between her legs. His tongue craved to know her unique taste.

Lifting up away from her, he forced an exhale to calm himself.

"Loki, this dream is real, isn't it?"

He released her legs and leaned forward to hover over her. She looked him in the eye. Her pupils were dilated from her own arousal, but more intriguing was her curious, not accusing, gaze.

"Why did you do it? Why go to the Frost—"

He hushed her and lowered his head, just barely grazing her lips. The sliver of space crackled with sexual tension. When she licked her lips and lifted up towards him, he pulled back. Her disgruntled exhale fanned across his face and brought out his lopsided grin.

A flush formed on her cheeks and spread to her neck and under her nightshirt. He followed its emergence, wondering just how far down it went.

Her mouth opened, most likely to ask more questions. To cut her off, he swept down and took the crook of her neck in his mouth, sucking delicately on the flesh as if she were a rare succulent fruit.

A moan escaped her lips before her teeth clicked together in an attempt to stifle the amorous sound. He was hard, painfully so, and his entire being begged him to relieve the building pressure, but Loki had spent hundreds of years developing his control. He would see her undone before he allowed himself any alleviation.

He ran his tongue along her collarbone, paying extra attention to any spots her body responded to. At the same time, he slid his hand down her neck and traced the outline of her breast before circling up to her taut nipple. It strained against the fabric and reached for his touch.

He found he was quite happy to oblige. Only he shouldn't be. He was supposed to tease and torment her, not himself. His body's lascivious hunger decimated his waning control and he ended up brushing himself against her.

Her breath came out stunted and she attempted to create some space between them. Her supple frame writhed against him and nearly rendered an audible groan from low in his throat.

"Maybe we shouldn't," she said. "Maybe—"

When he brought his mouth down over her other nipple and nibbled on it through the cloth, she arched her back and pressed herself more fully against him. A shiver raked her body and another wave of those frighteningly delicious smells engulfed him.

She grasped his hand as he rubbed and tweaked her sensitive flesh. He thought she would push him away, but she surprised him instead by mashing his palm to the fullness of her breast, kneading herself through him, using him as if he was her concubine.

A groan clawed its way out of his throat. He magicked a slit down the center of her nightshirt and used his mouth to nudge apart the fabric. He worked his way down, licking and kissing and relishing the small expanse of creamy skin exposed to him.

When he reached her bellybutton, her abdomen fluttered and she said his name under her breath. It was a soft, tremulous, barely spoken word, but his sensitive ears picked it up.

The last of the fabric tore free as he ripped open her shirt and made the useless material vanish. He paused, looking for her consent.

Her hooded gaze was enough.

He ghosted a finger down her sternum and circled her breast. She was beautiful. On so many levels.

The sight of her sensuous body in such a state of unabashed desire had him as hard as his adolescent days. Whatever it was that she possessed awakened something primal within him. His heart pounded with a fervor he hadn't experienced in his thousand years of existence.

Jane watched his every move with her lower lip trapped between her teeth. He bent and snagged it from its prison, sucking on it before moving down to her nipples. She gasped and threaded her fingers through his hair.

There was no more pretense. She wanted him and he wanted her. When had he developed this yearning desire, this ravenous hunger for the little mortal? He didn't know and at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care.

He let all extraneous thoughts fade when his fingers located her underclothes. Without breaking his focused attentions on her pliant flesh and tantalizing peaks, his hand explored, skimmed, and molded themselves to the slopes of her hips and legs as he removed the article of clothing.

He vanished the imaginary fabric, then kissed his way down her midsection, over her hip, to the leg he held suspended for his perusal. He wanted to taste, to memorize every inch of her. He wanted to consume her.

When he made his way to her feet, he slowed down, paying them extra attention. He licked around those provocatively painted toes while rubbing away the last bits of tension she held.

He slowly worked his way back up and she crooned, nearly vibrating, as he prolonged her torment. The closer he got the more her heady scent intoxicated him. He couldn't get enough. He was greedy and possessive and insatiable.

He was also no diffident youth. The God of Mischief knew how to stay in control and savor a woman's sultry essence.

Spreading her legs so one was draped off the edge of the couch and the other wrapped around his shoulder, he lingered at the crevice between her quim and her thigh. It was a cruel thing to do, but that certainly did not stop him. A well-placed grazing touch and a heavy exhale as well as the palming of her lower abdomen, her inner thighs, her bottom, anywhere but the spot she craved had her panting, squirming, and on the verge of whimpering. Still, he waited to hear her submit fully to her desire, to him.

"Loki," she said his name as a plea, a prayer, and a curse.

He smiled and asked the same questions from their very first dream. "Do you want me, Jane?"

Her affirmation was hardly more than a husky purr.

He buried his nose in her plush curls and inhaled her aroma again. "Do you want this?" he asked against her.

The primitive guttural she emitted called to every cell in his body and engorged his already solid erection. It pulsed with each pump of his heart as if it were ready to yank him forward and search out her opening. It wanted him to plunge into her depths and have his way with her until they were both spent and satiated.

He repressed the urge, though, and delved his tongue into her heat, licking straight up to her clit in one long leisurely stroke. "Do you want more?"

Her answer was lost in her sharp breath and gyrating hips.

He fully submersed himself into pleasing her. The mellifluous sounds she made was music to his ears, her flavor the sweetest nectar, and her scent a potent aphrodisiac.

She ran her hands through his hair and wrapped her leg more tightly around him as if to trap him there. He was right where he wanted to be, though. Nothing could stop him from lavishing her with his mouth.

He flicked his tongue over her clit, then latched onto it as he slipped a finger into her, feeling her decadent walls grip him. He sucked at the nub and worked in another digit.

A murmur of approval tore from her lips as she ground into him.

He pumped his hand, curved his fingers, and tapped the spot inside her that quickly brought her to the edge. If there was any shy hesitancy before, it was nowhere in sight now. Her hypnotic panting and movements was something to behold, let alone experience firsthand. His hum of delight caused her to flush a delectable shade of pink. He cherished the color and vowed to see it on her more often.

She undulated to the rhythm he set, all grace and passion. An erotic dance just for him. Her juices flowed and he lapped up each drop while swirling the tip of his tongue around her throbbing clit.

The addition of a third finger took her fully into the throes of an orgasm. Her walls clenched around him as she gripped his hair. Her legs quivered and her breaths came in shuddering gasps.

He slowed his ministrations, then stopped when she finally melted into the couch. Lifting himself up, he gazed down at her provocative form. Not once had he seen her in such a languorous state. It was absolutely breathtaking.

"If this really is a dream and the real Loki is half as good as you, then..." her lilting voice trailed off as a pleased smile took hold. "Then I'm in serious trouble."

He placed a kiss on her bellybutton, over her heart, then on her forehead, all the while releasing his hold on the dream-spell. Hovering just above her lips, he whispered, "That, dear Jane, was but a small sample of what I have planned for you."

Then she was gone and he was left standing in her abandoned lab, painfully hard but wholly satisfied. This would work. And he found he did not mind carrying out this particular plan at all.

He touched himself over his leather breeches, recalling a naked, aroused Jane and his knees nearly buckled.

Not at all.

Author's Note 2: *Peeks out from under cover* Was it okay?

Muchas gracias to my lovely beta, Dream Flight, and my sister!