Star-Crossed (4/?)
Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005
Fandom: Marvel's Avengers
Date: June 2013
Pairing: Loki/ OFC
Rating: Adult (18+).
Summary: Crack!fic; Star decides Loki needs an attitude adjustment. And a little discipline.
Disclaimer: Not ours, we're just borrowing Loki for a short time. We'll give him back at some future point. Honest!
Authors' Note: Starhawk wrote the OFC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's.
Battlesore.
He doesn't often have to resort to physical fighting, not with his many tricks and magic, but now and again it does come to brute strength, and this last was one of those times.
Victorious, of course, but at a price. Loki knows his body will heal bruises and contusions easily, but the unsettled restlessness will take longer. Even in success there is a period of time when the spirit needs support, and distraction. It has been nearly three weeks since he has been with his pet, and the thought of her is a balm to his thoughts. Loki decides that time with his feisty little pet is in order, and soon.
-oo00oo-
Star swipes sweat out of her eyes, cursing the hot sun beating down as her feet pound on the trail.
She's never been a fan of jogging, but it's inexpensive and she can work out whenever she wants. And she can eat pretty much whatever she wants, so long as she exercises. She learned that lesson back in grad school.
Come on, she coaches herself, just until that park bench over there. Once there, she walks for about a minute.She's almost done, so once she's judged herself ready, she begins to jog again. This is the last leg; as soon as she crosses the bike path and makes it down to the street, she'll slow to a walk until she gets back to her condo-
A flash of light envelops her, and she stumbles, confused. Lightning, on a sunny day?
Loki watches as his pet reels and catches herself, not tumbling to the ground, but definitely not steady on her feet. When she regains her senses, he smiles at her and steps closer. "Found you," he tells her smugly, and then wrinkles his nose. "You too, have been in battle?" Loki asks, eyeing her pink face and damp brow.
In his restlessness he has shifted his Hall, and now it sits on the edge of a cliff, sheltered on one side by the craggy mountain, and on the other, the spectacular view of the wild sea looms below. Most of his comforts remain the same, although there are new treasures carelessly tossed into corners.
"What?" she asks, finally finding her feet. She turns off her mp3 player and pulls the ear buds out, panting and then bending and bracing her hands on her knees. She winces inwardly to realize how the oversized red tee-shirt she jogs in is stuck to her skin with sweat, and her face feels sticky and damp. She's in dire need of a cold shower and deodorant. Loki didn't pick the best time to kidnap her!
"You are . . . battle-worn," Loki tells her, looking slightly vexed. "As am I. Attend me; we shall bathe."
She blinks at him, her brain still fogged by her runner's high. "'Battle'? Hell no. My kickboxing days are long behind me. . .and that was for exercise only, not competition. I was jogging. Not fighting." She chuckles. Then she recalls: "I take it your 'deception' didn't work on that king?"
Loki blinks back at her, rubbing his nose with one hand. "It . . . very nearly did. And I defeated him in the end; that is all that matters. There will be time enough to tell of it after you bathe me."
Star raises a brow. "Bathe you? Uh, d'you mind if I catch my breath first, please and thank you? In case you weren't listening, I was in the middle of running." She tugs at her soaked shirt to make her point.
Loki however, is not looking. Instead he's peeling off parts of his armor and dropping them carelessly to the rug, uncovering his pale, lean torso which is spotted here and there with lavender bruises and the occasional scrape. The muscles are sinewy and long; definitely distracting. When he looks up, a lock of hair falls over his forehead and his mouth is in a thin, impatient line.
She winces all over again to see the bruising. "Are- are you OK?" She walks hesitantly to him, stretching out careful fingertips to brush the lock of hair off his forehead.
Loki glances down at himself and gives a shrug. "I was worse, against the green one with your Avengers. This will heal soon. Why are you still dressed?" Clumsily he reaches for her shirt, tugging it up with impatient hands.
She rolls her eyes at his brusque manner and starts to strip down. "They are not 'my' Avengers, you can't pin that on me," she mutters, wondering at his mood. "And can I get a drink of water first, O Impatient One? Before I weaken from, you know, dehydration?"
"Fine, fine," Loki mutters with ill-grace. "I'm so glad your delight in seeing me again shines through." It's a snide remark and he knows it, but some imp within him seems to have gotten a hold of his tongue, making him sharper than usual. "And you are of Midgard, so yes, they are your Avengers. Stark took it upon himself to speak for the entire planet."
She shakes her head. "If this is how you are when you win your battles, remind me to absent myself when you lose," she mutters. Naked, she goes to stand near the entrance to the stairs leading down to the bathing pool - or where they would be, had Loki bothered to open the floor yet! - looking around for a ghostly hand. Can she make them do her bidding? "Water, please." She says flatly to the air, by way of experiment.
A hand glides over, holding a horn cup and presents it to her; the water in it is refreshing and icy-cold. Loki flexes his shoulders, looking both sullen and vulnerable as he stands there shirtless.
Interesting. She hadn't expected Loki's servants to respond to her.
Star drains the cup, then hands it back. "Well?" she asks Loki tartly. "You wanted to bathe, let's go. Or am I somehow expected to know the magic spell to open the way to the pool?" Sarcastically, she spreads her arms and says loudly: "Open sesame!"
The stones on the floor do not budge. Annoyed, Loki waves to a pair of hands to carry the soiled clothing-his and hers-away. "You are expected to provide comfort," he murmurs, and gestures to the floor, making a circular gesture that spins open the tiles like an iris. The stones that form the stairs click into place, and from below the steam of the water carries the scent of the sea. Loki waves to them, waiting for her to move.
She huffs in annoyance and descends the stairs, then sloshes into the hot pool. All her resolve to submit, to surrender gracefully has evaporated. It is almost as if they are back at their first encounter, as if all the ground gained during her last time with him has been lost. They're butting heads, and it's only escalating.
Star should probably play the demure little pet, but she doesn't want to. Not until he loses his black mood, at least a little. She wonders what other options are available to her - if she dares to take them.
Loki follows his pet, feeling a sense of despair. Why could she not understand? He fumes a bit, wishing there was a way to put the matter into words. He had triumphed, but the victory had not felt complete. The hollowness is eating at him, and he wants . . . comfort. Wants to be praised and petted and told how well he has done.
Victory is hardly victory if there is no-one to share it with, Loki broods. His pet hasn't even asked about it!
She doesn't wait for Loki to descend the stairs and remove the rest of his clothing before she's out of the water and seated on the rim of the pool, washing herself with the usual green lotion. Her movements are quick, entirely utilitarian, her eyes bent on the pool's waters rather than looking in his direction. Star makes no attempt to tease herself, or him, just to get clean as rapidly as possible.
Why does she feel like this? Because he yanked her out of her own life so abruptly, and then within moments, they were at odds? Had he been affectionate, or kind (as kind as he is capable of, at any rate), or seductive, or at least given her space to catch her breath. . .but no, he is peevish, and that is distinctly UN-attractive.
She tumbles back into the water to rinse, then turns her back on Loki and briefly scrubs her hair. A quick dunk later and, eyes still resolutely lowered, she scoops more lotion from the bowl and approaches him, her mouth pressed into a hard line as she attends to him.
Star cleanses him much the same way - quickly and efficiently, not letting her hands linger or explore, though she takes extra care over his bruises and scrapes. She can feel his gaze searing into the top of her head, but he is blocking her escape, so as soon as she is finished she retreats to her side of the pool, and waits uncomfortably.
"You are not pleased to see me," Loki concludes glumly, not meeting her eyes. "I will not force you to do what does not come from your own desire for me, little pet, even though I have need of you." He rolls his head from shoulder to shoulder, fighting a wince as he does so. "Not even a kiss of greeting for me."
He's more mercurial than her preschooler. She shakes her head and approaches him again, sliding her hands up his firm chest and shoulders and taking his face between her palms, drawing him down for a deep kiss.
"Look, I don't understand what's going on here at all. I can only apologize for not being in the mood right away, because that's not how I'm wired. You can't yank me out of the middle of my life without any warning and not expect me to need some time to adjust, to catch my breath." She presses her forehead to his and curls her fingers through his wet hair. "Is there something you wanted to talk about? I know you talked about leaving our lives and problems behind us while we're here, but we can drop that if you really need to unburden yourself."
Loki scowls a bit, but submits to her touches with visible relaxation. "I suppose I did assume much in simply retrieving you, but that is my way, pet. I cannot send word to you by messenger when I have desires for you. And I am . . ." he struggles to put it into words, "ill at ease. I cannot say why, but my mood is foul and I cannot shake it at the moment. I am . . . untethered."
He makes a fist and drops it hard on the side of the pool, chipping one of the stones. "Nothing pleases me at the moment, not even my victory."
Star swallows nervously, looking at the damaged rock out of the corner of her eye. How is he supposed to be a good Dom while he's tense enough to break the, um, furniture? And easily displeased, to boot?
But he is relaxing under her hands, which gives her an idea.
"Follow me, Lord," she coaxes as she climbs out of the pool. At the top of the stairs, she pauses and says: "Robe, please?" to the air.
Two ghostly hands flutter up, carrying a sandy peach colored robe to her.
Loki follows her up the steps, watching as she slips herself into the robe. He frowns. "You will not need that. I prefer you bare." With a snap of his fingers the robe disappears even as Star attempts to tie it shut.
She rolls her eyes. "As my Lord wills," she grits out. She closes her eyes, tries to tame her irritation. That's when her calf muscle twinges. Uh-oh, she never stretched after her run. Bad idea.
She'd rather not sit bare-assed on the cold floor, so she goes over to the dragon-and-snake carpet and sits down, stretching out the offending leg. "I don't suppose you have any of that silene oil you mentioned in your email messages kicking around in here, do you?" she asks mid-stretch.
One of the ghostly hands brings her a small stone bottle; Loki turns his back to her and dries off with a towel.
She takes it. "Can I get a towel, too, please?" If she's going to be forced to do all this naked and all-but-soaking wet, Loki had better have one powerful anti-illness spell handy.
She is really not liking all this leftover aggression directed at her. He's better than that. Star sets her shoulders and walks over to him after the ghostly hand brings her the towel. She wipes herself down quickly, then uncorks the bottle and spills some into her palm, reaching towards his chest. She doesn't meet his eyes, lest she set him off again, she keeps her gaze instead on the motion of her hands on his smooth flesh.
Loki holds back, submitting to her touch, longing to relax under it, but he can tell his pet is on edge; tense.
Inspiration strikes. "Why don't you go lie down on the bed, my Prince?" she suggests, her voice a little stronger as she wipes the excess oil from his pectorals with the towel. "On your front," she adds. Now she won't have to feel his glower on the top of her skull. Win-win.
His expression is decidedly sour, but he tosses his towel aside and wordlessly stalks over to the bed, dropping himself onto it with a lot less than his usual grace.
"Here goes nothing," she mutters to herself. She settles down next to his side on the bed, applying the oil to the back of his neck and his strong shoulders. He'd said it enhanced sensation, if she remembers correctly, which she hopes will help improve matters.
His skin is soft and his muscles hard, and despite her own misgivings she enjoys touching him, relaxing into the rhythm as her palms make long strokes down his arms, her fingers pressing into his muscles. Next she anoints his back and spine, then his lean legs, and finally she rubs the oil into his backside, squeezing the firm mounds gently, unable to withhold a little smile. She sits back to take a quick break, shaking out her hands and smiling down at the smears of oil on herself.
Loving physical contact like this always improves her mood. She hopes it's doing the same for him. "Time to turn over, my Lord," she suggests. "Am I pleasing you thus far?"
His voice is a deep purr. "Mmmmm." His pet has a marvelous sense of touch and already his tension is ebbing. "Keep going until I give you permission to stop."
She rolls her eyes, all her irritation swiftly returning. He chided her a short while ago for not kissing him, but has he touched her at all this entire time (pulling on her shirt does not count)? Has he made any effort to reciprocate at all? NO, goddamn him. "You know what? I think someone needs an attitude adjustment."
She gets off the bed, her movements stiff with annoyance. Quickly she scans Loki's hall, then decides the throne of wood and marble is the ideal place for her right now. She tromps over and seats herself on it, then pins Loki with her best imperious glare. Star points to the little fur cushion next to the throne. "Sit!" she commands. Take that, she thinks.
Loki looks over from the bed, astonished. The lovely stroking is over for now and probably for a while, judging from the look on his pet's face. She is scowling, and the expression ignites a low heat in his belly, a fury heavily infused with desire. Two thoughts occur simultaneously: How DARE she? and How magnificent!
The latter one makes him blink. Magnificent? Those pursed pretty lips, those blazing eyes, that unconscious command . . . yes, Loki admits reluctantly. His petite Star IS.
But this isn't the way this moment is supposed to go, he argues, and rolls over to stare at her. It's unfortunate that a certain hefty part of his body is traitorously enthusiastic to the sight of her on the throne. "What?" Loki asks, daring her to repeat her command.
She glares. "You heard me. You told me last time that I was in charge. Well, now I call upon you to prove it, Loki of Asgard. And you will address me properly. Or-" she pauses for dramatic effect. "send me home, and you will go wanting. Decide, and quickly."
Star steeples her hands and does her best to look utterly bored.
For the first time in ages-eons-he's speechless. People do not defy him. Oh the bluster of other super-beings doesn't count, not in this context. His pet, his luscious little Star is sitting there in her gloriously nude self and waiting for him to do her bidding.
It's outrageous, and dangerous, and . . . and . . . arousing.
This is a woman he could obliterate with a snap of his fingers, and yet his betraying lust is surging forth at her hard tone. Loki finds himself uncertainly sitting up and staring at her.
She permits a second or two to pass, then sighs theatrically. Star wishes she knew how to snap her fingers, as she would try that, snapping them and pointing to the cushion again. But she can't, so reluctantly she moves to threats. "How disappointing." She rises to her feet, and then in her best 'I-am-Goddess-Hear-Me-Roar' voice, she commands the ghostly hands: "Bring me my garments! I see I shall be leaving shortly." It's all a sham, of course; she can't get out of Loki's magical pied-à-terre without his cooperation. But she thinks - hopes- he will capitulate soon. His obvious desire practically screams it.
"No," Loki manages in a rough, unbelieving whisper. He's on his feet and moving towards her now, arms out uselessly. One of the ghostly hands bumps his shoulder, carrying the newly cleaned garments.
"Better," she says with a hint of approval in her voice. She waves the ghostly servant away and sits back down on the throne, crossing her legs. Then she raises a brow at him. "Kneel, and address me properly. NOW."
Loki chews his lip. He feels the rush of impatient anger within him, yes, the frustration and hurt are still there, but his pet's tone touches something else deep inside. Something that wants to come forth, despite his petty pride. For a moment he considers defying her and sending her home-without her clothes-but common sense, and yes, some sweeter emotion stops him, and he lifts his chin.
He kneels, gracefully, but keeps his gaze upon her. "How can I address you when you haven't told me what to call you? 'Pet' is hardly appropriate when the . . . leash . . . is in your hand."
She raises the other brow. "You told me you had experience being in this. . .position. Surely you know the usual address for one of my status."
He fights a quick snicker, all-too-aware of what terms he might use. "My queen, my mistress, my goddess-which do you prefer, She-who-must-be-obeyed?"
She cocks her head, eyes narrowing. "'Mistress'? Isn't that what you called She Who Brings Grief?"
For a moment Loki falters. "Yes."
She laughs mockingly. "Her? Any common whore-" she uses the word deliberately, just to see the look of shock on Loki's face- "can ensnare man or god using magic. But to bind a God to me with love," she leans forward in her chair, dropping her voice to a low purr. "That is true power, do you not agree?"
She strongly hopes that Angr-whatshername is not listening!
After a long pause, Loki takes a deep breath. "What you say is true . . . ."
"So no, I am not your 'mistress'," she continues, sneering the last word. "Nor am I a goddess, alas...I think that, given you tried to style yourself as king of Midgard and Asgard both, you will address me as 'my queen'. Is that understood?"
Loki holds her gaze, a thousand emotions roiling through him: anger, lust, fear and tying it all in a knot, pride. So beautiful, he thinks. He dips his head briefly. "Yes, my queen."
"I adore how my title sounds, rolling off your renowned silver tongue." Again she silently curses her inability to snap her fingers. "Here," she orders, pointing to the cushion next to the throne. HER throne, for now.
Loki moves, not hurrying, his limbs unfolding and refolding as he shifts to the indicated position. It's mildly uncomfortable given his bruises, but he's too fascinated to argue for the moment, wondering exactly what his pet-his queen-has in mind.
It dawns on him too, that he's so caught up that his restlessness has abated somewhat. Quietly he kneels, waiting for instruction, hands crossed behind him, body straight.
She reaches out, letting her fingers caress his hair, threading gently through the still-damp waves. "We need a name for you, do we not?" She half-closes her eyes, pretending to consider as she continues to stroke his head almost absently.
"Kinglet? Princeling?" she muses out loud. "No, I do not like any of those...ah, I have it! You are my ice prince. Mine. Remember that."
Loki says nothing, fighting an urge to shift. The hand on his head is light and the touch gentle; he savors it, although admitting that would be a sign of weakness. Instead, he makes a small sound deep in his throat, not quite an agreement to her terms, a small hint of defiance.
He's resisting, but Star chooses to let it go. This time. "Tell me, my ice prince, all about your recent victory." She presses her fingertips harder into his thick jet hair, massaging his scalp in slow circles. "I want to hear about your strength and cunning. Let me know that I chose well in making you mine." He's trembling ever so slightly, she can feel it. Whatever is eating him, he needs to let it go. Let it all go.
"Borovalla was cunning, but not cunning enough," Loki begins slowly. He tells about the bargain, and about the king's betrayal, how Loki had to fight him and his bodyguards to escape with the three powerful pieces he'd sought. It's a good tale, embellished in all the right places, and Loki feels better for having told it.
He also feels better for the soothing touch through his hair, gentle and caring. Touch has never been easy for Loki, who lacks Thor's easygoing way with bear hugs and embraces. Still, he savors it, longs for it and from his pet, luxuriates in it. Her fingers are strong and light, her caresses deliberate.
Loki wonders if he is part cat, and if his purring is audible.
She smirks as Loki leans ever-so-slightly into her touch. "Strong, brave, intelligent. Yes, I chose well indeed." She can almost feel him preening at her words. Star allows her fingers to slide down, caressing and massaging the back of his neck. She leans a little towards him. "And now tell me, my ice prince, what did you initially plan for us to do together, when you brought me here today?" She hopes he gives her some ideas on what to do next - there's a reason she usually plays the sub; being a Dom is hard work!
"I had thought to use the fire stone," Loki murmurs. "From the staff. It has . . . many capacities. Heat. Cold. Pointed edges. I was going to make you stand while I ran it over your body, and offer you a choice. The more intense the sensation you could take, the more I would pleasure you afterwards, my queen."
The image makes her quiver deep inside and her nipples stiffen. Damn. . .too bad it does not mesh well with their current positions of power. Maybe she can make use of his idea somehow later. "An intriguing plan. Perhaps another time, my ice prince. For now, regale me with what manner of things you would like me to do to you." The beauty of him, totally submissive and subservient to her will, takes her breath away. She presses her fingers a little more firmly against the back of his neck, then trails them around to the front to lightly stroke the backs of her fingers down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows convulsively. "Speak," she commands when he hesitates, though her tone is milder this time, tender.
"Perhaps for my insolence I deserve to be . . . reprimanded?" Loki suggests quietly. He shoots a glance towards the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and continues, his tone lower. "Should my queen choose, there is the soft leather flog of my youth among my belongings. It cannot cut, but stings quite effectively, as I recall."
Odin had used it exactly twice on him, Loki recalls. Neither occasion hurt; it was meant to humiliate rather than wound. Later, when She Who Brings Grief had used it, Loki had found the sensation intensely satisfying. She hadn't hurt him either, but the heat of his welts had left him feeling charged with rough lust, and let him escape his own fears for a little while. He would never admit that the stripes they left were private badges of a sort; kisses of a sweet, strange type.
She nods slowly. "Yes, go and fetch it now. I will make use of it in due time." Good, because she was wondering how exactly she's supposed to punish a god, especially when superheroes like Captain America had barely left a mark on Loki's skin. Her fingers would fall off long before he'd feel anything, she's quite certain! A flogger created by other gods will serve much better - and spare her poor hand.
Star watches Loki's every motion as he goes to retrieve the instrument of his discipline. She has always admired the grace with which he moves. She thinks she would know him anywhere, even while wearing other forms, just by his gait and the ease of his movements.
She motions him to a stop in front of her and holds her hand out for the flogger. Star turns it over and examines it, deliberately slow as he fidgets. She points to the floor. "Kneel," Star demands, pretending to keep her full attention on the flogger. The tooling of the black and red leathers twisting around the handle is exquisite, and the tails, also of scarlet and jet, are very soft. She strokes them, well aware of Loki's eyes following the motion of her fingers.
"For now, though-" She reaches for the bottle of silene oil, left sitting on the floor beside the throne. Star turns it around and around in her hands, the flogger left draped across her lap. "Tell me, my prince of stone and snow, is this oil meant to be applied...all over one's body?" She looks very deliberately at his rigid prick.
She can feel a mild tingle in her own flesh, where the oil had transferred from his skin to hers as she'd massaged him. And Loki - poor him! - has only had the oil applied to half of his body. That will have to be corrected.
Loki wishes he could stop staring, but the memory of what that flogger feels like is bringing back several strong responses. Those, and the sight of his pet, lounging nude on the throne is riveting. He tries very hard not to lick his lips before speaking. "Um, yes. Yes, my queen," he corrects himself hurriedly.
She smirks at his swift adjustment. "My clever Loki." She holds the bottle out to him, "Apply this to all the spots I neglected before. Slowly and thoroughly. And when you are done, you will apply the oil to me." She settles back in the throne, still idly stroking the tails of the whip, putting a finger to her lips and watching him intently.
He takes the bottle and holds it a moment before speaking. "As I am, or should I stand?" Loki keeps his question mostly polite, but there is a little taunt to his words. After all, his pet might appreciate a little of her own back at her.
She tilts her head and considers. "Kneeling suits you for now. I have no desire to injure my neck, craning it to watch you." Star gifts him with a half-smile. "Now begin."
Loki starts, pouring a palm-full of oil and rubbing it in both hands. Carefully he strokes each hip, acutely aware of his pet's intense gaze. The scrutiny unnerves him slightly; while he has the body of a god, it's not an Asgardian physique as such. His mother once compared him to a shard of stone, or a stalactite-long and dangerous. He liked the description, and after finding out his true heritage, it certainly seemed apt. But in Star's eyes, is that enough?
Carefully Loki strokes his hands down his thighs, already feeling the tingle of the silene seeping into his skin, making it much more receptive to the small drafts through the room.
"How fortunate I am - strong, brave, intelligent, and beautiful," she muses out loud. "Truly a worthy playmate for any queen." She gives him a salacious grin. "Continue."
"As my queen wishes," Loki murmurs, lowering his gaze and looking at her through his lashes. He reaches for more oil, making a show of pouring it and with a smirk, he runs his hands down his backside, flexing a bit and feeling only *slightly* foolish. The oil slickens his skin and he feels it trickle in . . . interesting places even as his hands caress his muscles.
She has to stifle a giggle; she already DID his backside! Maybe lust is clouding his memory. "Don't forget that well-toned chest of yours," Star purrs suggestively. "Would be a shame to leave it out." She licks her lips slowly.
Loki gives her another flirty glance and lets his hands glide around his hips and up his chest. It's been ages since he's preened like this for anyone, and the last time he'd been in his female form, attempting to learn secrets from a potential ally. This time it's much more intimate, and feels very nice. He lets his palms glide over his flat and firm chest, brushing his nipples lightly. Even so, the jolt of pleasure makes him shiver. Long strokes up his collarbones and neck, then longer ones back down his abdomen to his navel. Nice, but not as nice as when his pet touches him. Loki hopes she will, soon.
Star doesn't miss his reaction to touching his own nipples, and she files that fact away for future use. Changing her mind about her plan - at least for the moment- she beckons him over to her.
Loki moves forward on his knees in a Samurai walk; elegant and alert. He stops just shy of touching her feet, and his gaze falls to the soft little curls between her thighs.
She smirks -oh, he'll have access to her soon enough! - and reaches out to him, brushing light fingertips from his cheek to his throat, then down over a rounded pectoral muscle (making sure to catch her nails on his nipple as she does so - he shivers and makes a low noise), and down his belly. Star pulls her hand back a little and cups it. "Give me some oil, my Loki." She pulls the flogger from her lap and lets it drape over an armrest of the throne, and his eyes follow it.
He obeys with only the slightest of pauses, then nearly drops the bottle as she wraps her hand around his length, massaging the oil into soft, veined skin. Star pumps his shaft slowly, not touching the head, watching the pearly evidence of his lust bead up at the very tip.
Loki tenses, all attention focused on the overwhelming sensation of his pet's hand caressing him. So firm, so deliberate . . . it's difficult to stay still, and he fights his natural instinct to rock into her grip, to rub and let the slickness lead to a deeper stroke. The sensation is amazing and he bites his lips. It has been a long time since their last encounter and his prick is reminding him of that.
"M-my queen," he manages, nostrils flaring.
"My ice prince," she replies with a wicked smile. To draw things out even longer, she requests more oil and switches to massaging the heavy muscles of his thighs again, then around the tops of his knees. Her fingers then trail back up to his groin, pausing to stroke across his balls several times. Star rakes light nails across the tightening, heated skin, and as he shudders and softly moans, she lets her hand slip back up once more. Firm fingers slide the entire length of him this time, then close gently around the soft-and-firm head, rubbing the remaining oil and his fluids into pulsing flesh. "Are you enjoying this?" she inquires softly.
"More that you can imagine, my queen," Loki confesses in a rough purr. "Although if you keep stroking like that, I fear I may lose control of myself." His hands flex, clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tries to still them. The desire to lunge and simply take her rises up in him in a rebellious wave, but Loki chokes it back, curious to see what else his dear pet may attempt.
It's delightful to watch her play, after all.
"Well we can't have that, now can we?" Smiling, Star leans back against the throne once more. "Better start applying the oil to me," she orders. She even dares to close her eyes, though that's probably a bad idea, taking her eyes off someone as strong and sneaky as Loki, but she wants to enjoy this as completely as possible.
Loki considers the woman before him, seated and posed languorously, although he can see how quick her breathing is. Yes, his little pet is just as aroused as he is, and it's time to see if he can make her break first. He reaches for one small foot and carefully rests the heel of it on his thigh, making sure it's close to his shaft before he begins to massage. Such a dainty appendage, and by the feel of it, very sensitive. Loki concentrates, working his long fingers along the ball of the foot, around the arch, and even between her toes. From the chair he hears his pet groan a bit, and shift herself.
He is . . .very good at this, she decides, allowing a low pleasured moan to escape her lips. Perhaps she should order him around more often. Star cracks an eye slightly open, noticing how close her toes are to a certain someone's lusty appendage. She can't resist stroking her big toe against it. Prehensile toes do come in handy at times.
The little stroke makes him suppress a growl, and Loki gently reaches for the other foot, hoping to distract Star from this new game. It's fascinating to realize how . . . competitive they are, he notes. How much pleasure comes from the fact that each of them wants the other to enjoy their time together. Loki smiles up at her and rubs his palms over the other foot. "The view of you from here is . . . wonderful."
He has forgotten to address her properly. "'My queen'," she corrects him, but gently. She's feeling generous at the moment. "That's nothing. Finish with my legs, and I'll give you a view," she purr-growls. Foot massages are lovely and all, but she does have other body parts she would enjoy having him attend to sometime this century!
Loki grins to himself; it's apparent that his touch is definitely stirring up her lust and impatience. With care he leans forward and deftly applies the silene up her calves and shins, smoothing it in little circles around her knees and then along the sleek muscles of her thighs. Memories of them wrapped around his hips makes him stiffer, and Loki finds himself stroking the oil more quickly now, savoring the heat of her skin under his hands. He's careful, though, and manages to brush the tips of his fingers along the insides of her thighs, barely grazing the soft fluff between them.
Control is even more difficult now, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep focused.
"We'll save the best bits for last, shall we?" she asserts slyly. She motions him towards her torso. "You may continue with my neck." She taps her fingernails on the armrest of the throne, clearly waiting for him to obey.
Loki rises; no easy task without hands, and moves behind the throne, trying not to press his shaft against it too firmly-stone is cold-as he reaches down to brush her hair from her throat.
So small, so delicate, he thinks and slips a hand to stroke the back of his knuckles against her skin. One grip could almost encircle his pet's throat, and Loki finds it useful to know as thoughts of a particular piece of ownership spring to mind. However, he begins a slow caress, one hand on either side of her, fingers toying with her pulse points. The urge to lean down and nip strikes him, but he refrains, keeping the idea in mind for another time. A point when HE has the throne again . . .
For the moment Loki concentrates on being a good servant. A perfect servant.
A tease.
She LOVES neck-rubs, and Loki is giving a very skilled one, and the warming effect of the oil doesn't harm, either. She purrs low in her throat like the kitten he likes to call her, relaxing under his long fingers.
Too relaxed, almost. He keeps working on her neck much longer than she expects, and she rolls her eyes impatiently after some time passes. "A little initiative is not punishable. Unless, of course, that's what you're hoping for," she points out, smirking even though he can't see it.
She brushes his hands away from her neck and leans forward in the throne. "Shoulders and back, too, ice prince." Star picks the flogger up and idly lets the tails hang, spinning the whip with slow circular movements of her wrist.
Loki feels himself stiffen a bit more at the sight of the flogger and obediently shifts his touch to her shoulders, working his thumbs along her spine in careful strokes. Again he's struck by how compact his pet is, and how careful he must be with her. He let his fingers slide against her ribs and feels the curve of her breasts. Loki tickles, lightly.
She jerks away, then snorts and slaps at his hand. "You really do want to be reprimanded, I see. Well, when I am ready, you will feel this-" Star snaps the tails of the whip against the side of the throne for emphasis. "When I am ready, and not one second before. You still have a few spots to finish." She rises to her feet in front of the throne and turns away from him. "Get thee behind me," she intones, smirking to herself though she's not sure he'll understand the reference, "and do the rest of my back. Oh, and my butt isn't going to oil itself now, is it?"
Loki hesitates for a moment, taken aback by her tone, and then moves towards her, pouring more oil on his hands. "With your permission," he murmurs and kneels, resting his hands on her hips, running his hands along the little dimples on either side at the base of her spine. He massages the oil in, feeling a little restless now. His palms move over the rounded flare of her bottom, fingers sliding in pretty patterns. The urge to pinch rises . . .
She glances down over her shoulder at him, smirking. "Don't even think about it, Loki." Her skin tingles pleasantly where he just applied the oil, and Star wriggles slightly against his hands. She enjoys the contact regardless - his hands are warm and strong, and seem to know just how to touch her - but the oil is heightening everything, making even the barest brush of skin against skin a sensuous delight. How will even more sensitive parts of her will be affected by the oil? Perhaps it is time to test that.
Without giving him any prior warning she turns, seizes one of his wrists and sits down on the throne again, then places his hand right on her breast, an entirely non-verbal command.
He doesn't miss a beat, caressing the oil gently into both breasts in soft circles. The warming effects of the oil kick in right away, and she squirms deliciously against the cushions on the throne. His fingers continue circling, moving around and around her nipples until Star growls in warning and impatience, and a smirk flits over his face as his palms finally glide over her aching nipples.
Loki squeezes both nipples softly, and she barely restrains her cry of pleasure. She grits her teeth to maintain control as the silene starts to affect her, increasing the sensual ache of her nipples and between her thighs. Star's strongly tempted to just grab him by the back of the neck and pull his head right into her sex . . .but he's not done yet, she reminds herself firmly. Who knows how often - if ever again- she'll have this much power over him? Best to take full advantage.
Star narrowly restrains an impatient writhe as his fingers continue downwards, working the oil into her lower ribs and belly, until finally she can stand it no longer, and she hooks one knee over an armrest of the throne. She isn't quite flexible enough to hook the other knee over the other armrest at the same time, but she trusts she's still giving Loki plenty to look at.
"Ah," he murmurs, gazing at her navel and letting his glance slide lower. "One last section to attend to, my queen." Loki inclines his head and pours the last of the silene into the cup of his palm. Taking his time, he coats his fingers, flexes them, and begins feather-soft strokes from the inside of her knees up inside her thighs. This is the most sensitive area, he knows. The oil will heat and tingle here most of all, and Loki can see that his pet is trying not to wriggle.
He reaches the sensitive crease between thigh and body, letting his fingers drip a little oil there, and then deliberately traces the outline of her labial lips with an almost artistic touch. It demands his full attention, and Loki keeps his gaze on the lush and slick cleft that seems to taunt him. Wanting it has never stopped, and fighting the desire to simply take it is nearly impossible.
Nearly.
She is close to moaning aloud, and emboldened, Loki lets one forefinger circle the little bud peeping out at the top, smiling when his pet shudders with pleasure.
Star bites her lip, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the throne as the sensations break down her meager control. He lets his finger circle her nub again, and this time she can't restrain a whimper.
She should stop him, probably, she really should. He'll use this to turn the tables on her, more than likely. But somehow, she just can't bring herself to order him away.
He owes her an orgasm after the way he's acted, Star argues with herself. Decision made, she meets his lustful gaze squarely. "Pleasure me, and I will pleasure you, my Loki." She gives the flogger a suggestive shake, a snap with no power behind it, but it's easy to see he understands the message.
Loki smiles; a look of naughty intentions. "Oh yes, my queen-let me please you." He leans forward, fingers still stroking the edges of her lips and lightly parts them before pressing a soft kiss between them, tongue flicking softly.
This he enjoys. The delicate structure of the female sex is both lovely and delicious, and Loki knows how best to tease and tickle, how to pace himself to enjoy the bounty it presents. It's like feasting on a hot, succulent orchid, and he laps up the citrus tang of his pet's lust even as he lightly drives her ever closer to orgasm. Carefully, carefully . . . with a soft wet swirl of his tongue he senses exactly how much pressure to use, and the swell of his own lust pulses to her shudders and soft keening.
Loki lightens the press of his mouth, savoring the taste, and the feel of her hands in his hair. The silene tingles along his cheeks but he doesn't mind; it adds a hint of mint. With a loving slurp, he looks up over the tangle of her at his pet and sighs. "Do you wish another, my queen?"
She pants heavily and blinks down at him, her thoughts fragmented. She should probably say 'No' or 'Later'; she's not sure she'll be able to get her arms and legs to function properly now, let alone if he makes her come again . . .but her mouth doesn't cooperate. "Why not?" Star hears herself say. Why not indeed? She strokes his hair lovingly, then wraps her fingers around his jaw and tugs him to her again, even as a leftover shudder ripples through her.
Loki smiles against the curls and moves his mouth to lick the little creases on each of the insides of her thighs. It's important to re-establish sensitivity, he knows, and he lets himself nibble the tender skin along her legs, leaving the glistening cleft alone for a little while. He curls his hands under her thighs and his fingers stroke the outside of her legs, all the time aware of her sweet scent.
It's driving him mad, and the ache in his cock is nearly painful, but Loki knows he can deal with it. His year of training has given him that much, and dimly he's grateful for the ability to focus. Besides, his pet is nothing if not fair, and she will make sure he's pleasured in his turn . . .
At least he hopes so. Gently he moves back to her cleft, and makes it a point to blow a cool breath over the little nub, nosing it ever so gently before taking a lip between his teeth and flicking his tongue along its edge. So ripe, his little Star, so beautifully, erotically female. To pleasure her is the ultimate in a lover's gift, and Loki adores the way she squirms, wanting more of his kisses.
Gently he tips his head and suckles her lips, humming deeply enough to let the vibrations thrum against her skin. She gasps, hands gripping his shoulders now, her fingers digging in. Loki is sure she has said something; probably his name, but he concentrates on sliding his parted lips up and down along the seam of her sex. When he passes over the little bud, he flicks it, lightly, and then circles around it before moving back down those tender labia.
It doesn't take long before his pet gives that sweet little cry and tightens her legs around his shoulders. Loki nearly loses it when she does because that embrace is so very intimate.
She slumps on the throne, utterly spent. Heat radiates from her entire body, and the occasional shiver of pleasure runs down her spine. Her arm feels like a leaden weight when she raises her hand to rake wet strands of hair from her face and the back of her neck. Star gazes down at Loki, who is sitting back on his heels and looking very proud of himself, and she has to restrain an amused sound.
"Ve-" she has to clear her throat twice. "Very good, my ice prince." She tries to shake off her post-orgasm lethargy. "Go and fetch me the vibrator - 'supplanter', I believe you called it last time we played - and go stand by the side of the bed. When you are there, bend over and place your hands on the mattress, and then wait."
Loki tries not to pout; he's well-aware of how good he's been up to this point. And speaking of points, his cock is seriously aching now. Slowly he rises from the floor, moves to fetch the toy, and then leans over the mattress, feeling a little wary. Flogging is one thing; being penetrated is quite another.
She pushes herself with much effort up off the throne, the flogger dangling from her hand. She walks carefully over to Loki, ignoring the shakiness in her knees as best she can. He stares mistrustfully at the vibrator as she reaches his side, and Star smiles to herself as she removes the toy from his grip and tosses it onto the foot of the bed.
"I'm tempted to bind you, but now is not the time," she murmurs in a low sultry voice, leaning to speak right into his ear. "Consider it a little test of your self-control." Star smirks as his eyes narrow; clearly he recognizes the very words he spoke to her that first night, before he punished her.
"Close your eyes, ice prince," comes her order. His body tenses, but he obeys, if a bit slowly. Smirking, she gently runs the ends of the tails of the flogger from the base of his neck, along his spine, and over the firm curve of his rear.
The sensation sends involuntary chills through him, and Loki bites his lower lip to control his pleasure.
She repeats the motion several times, pausing between each pass, making him wait longer each time. His knuckles are white where they clutch the coverlet. She brushes his hair off his forehead, and then remembers that they haven't kissed since their bath. She grips the hair at the base of his neck and tugs lightly. "Kiss me, my Loki."
He does, eagerly and thoroughly, and after she pulls away from him, she walks around to stand behind him. His stiffened length is nearly purple by now, and Star almost pities him.
She strokes her nails lightly along the curve of his rear for a short time, and then finally allows the flogger to touch him with some actual force, but it's no harder than a gentle slap, the barest flick of her wrist as she lets the leather kiss each cheek.
Loki bites back a grunt; it doesn't hurt, but between the silene and the taste of his pet in his mouth everything is hypersensitive now, and he fears he might climax if he's not careful. The sensation is wonderful, though, and he takes a deep breath, letting himself appreciate how perfect it feels.
Star continues flicking the flogger, aiming each soft blow going further and further down each thigh and back up again. A few hits target his rear again, and then along his back, slowly climbing towards his shoulders. When she runs out of the expanse of his back, she again grasps a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and pulls until he turns his head towards her. She lets her tongue dart around his earlobe, and then she whispers, "I'm going to hit you harder now."
He makes a soft sound in his throat that sounds suspiciously like a moan, and Star smiles as she releases his hair. She resumes raining blows, back the way she has come, from his shoulders down. They remain soft at first but gradual get harder, and she watches his muscles tense and release with each blow, the furs of the bed twisted in the grip of his hands. By the time Star's back to striking his ass, she's using about three-quarters of her strength, and she stays there, repeatedly snapping the tails across his ass and thighs, until his pale skin is reddened and his breathing is hard and erratic.
She stops to trail her fingers over his skin. Not marked, not yet, but she can feel the heat rising off of him. An absolutely wicked idea occurs to her. "Spread your legs like a good slave."
"My qu-queen," Loki stammers, his thoughts hazy. The sweet heat of his skin and the sting of the flogger have put him into the dark, lovely zone, a space of sheer sensation, and it's difficult for him to verbally respond to his pet. Not that she is his pet at the moment, oh no. She has become something much more now. She is very much the queen.
He doesn't seem to understand her, so Star smirks and places a hand on his inner thigh, pushing gently until he opens his legs wider for her. She lets a fingertip run down the underside of his rigid prick, and he gasps, shivering.
She grins darkly as she cups a hand around the base of the flogger's tails, and then presses her hand against his shaft, pulling backward on the handle of the flogger and allowing the soft little strips of leather to caress across the length of him and then along his balls.
Loki gives a greedy whine, the sound escaping before he can stop it as the scent of the leather and the cool feel of it engulf him.
His reaction makes her grin widen. Star hopes the silene oil is increasing his enjoyment. She can certainly feel the extra sensitivity in her own skin; even the few places between her legs where he touched her with the oil still feel tingly and warm . . . she wouldn't object to another climax, that's certain. But not just now . . .
Still, she won't torment him much longer. Star lets the flogger dangle against his leg as she informs him: "Six more blows, ice prince. I will give you back what you gave me. But I'm a kind queen; there's no need for you to count for me. And once those six blows are done, you may come." Given his apparent difficulty with speech, she adds: "Nod if you understand me."
He does, and she steps back to give herself room. She lets the flogger fly at full strength, the tails whipping across his rear once, twice . . . Loki makes a strangled noise each time, but she knows him well enough now to recognize them as sounds of pleasure. Another two strikes, and faint, raised welts appear on the toned curves of his rear. That's enough damage as far as she's concerned - she's a wimp about those things.
Star strokes her fingers gently over the welts, and he shudders and utters a low moan. She shifts until she can see his face, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut, long damp locks of hair hanging around his face.
Perfect; he can't see what she's about to do.
Loki is expecting another two hits, but instead she drops the flogger on the bed and scoops up the vibrator. A quick dart of her tongue moistens the tip, and then she turns it to a moderate speed, sliding it between the firm rounds of his rear. She doesn't press it inside him, just against the tender tangle of nerves around that entrance to his body. He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a yelp, and Star wraps her hand around his length and strokes him, quickly and lightly.
"You may come for me now," she croons to him. Star circles the vibrator slightly and speeds up the motion of her hand.
He's lost to sensation, aware of touch, touch, lovely tantalizing, touch and the glorious surge of his seed, the pleasure so intense that his entire body arches as the thick strings of semen erupt from his shaft. Loki rocks against his pet's hand, slowing but no less blissful for that, and his fingers dig into the furs across the bed.
It takes a while to regain some sense of where he is. His body is light now; weightless and loose, so he shifts his weight to one hip and tumbles onto the mattress, avoiding the glistening streaks and managing a sweet smile at Star, who is watching him with a slightly guarded expression.
Now his skin is cooling, damp with a pale sheen. He runs a hand over his scalp and shakes his head, hair swinging around his face. Loki chuckles, looking remarkably boyish.
"Marvelous," he murmurs, a lanky form sprawled on one side of the mattress. "Oh you do have a deft hand with discipline, don't you, my minx? Then again, I cooperated very well too. Come, lie with me a moment . . ." He motions for her to stretch out with him, still grinning.
Star is still holding the vibrator so she tosses it to the foot of the bed next to the flogger, and allows Loki to draw her down and press her against him.
"Surprised you did I?' she asks, closing her eyes and letting herself slump into his powerful arms.
"Not as much as you have surprised yourself, I think," Loki murmurs, kissing her temple. "Perhaps not even for the first time, though I know it's not your preference. Still, it was a rare pleasure to yield to you, and I am grateful for the tryst. It seems to have driven the ill-humour out of me and for that I owe you much, delight of my thoughts. Would you like a gift?"
She smiles and looks at him from under her lashes. "D'you mean a third orgasm?" Star pauses, furrowing her brow. "Do gods - male ones- have a refractory period?"
This time Loki actually laughs. "A third I will give you as your due, little charmer! I meant something I've hoped to present you with for a while now, and after what you've just given me, I hope you will be pleased. Refractory?"
The ghostly hands are moving about, bringing warm wet cloths and cleaning up the aftermath of the session. Loki senses what his pet means by the amused expression on her face and catches her hand, laying it on his flat stomach. "Ah, the gloating time when males lie in the glow of their prowess. Yes, after a tryst of such intensity I may need a short while to recover my capacity, although I shall not be long. Now to other matters-I repeat, would you accept my gift?"
She can't help a snort of derision. "Who said I was going to let you give me an orgasm? Maybe I'm still in charge, maybe I'll just TAKE it," she grins, poking him gently in the stomach. Then it hits her - "You mean, my collar?" It seems odd to her that he would offer it now, just after she has been the one in the dominant position. But it's obviously his decision.
"Of course I'll accept it," she says, trying to conceal her impatience. "I've waited for it long enough. Just as long as I don't have to move. I always forget how draining it can be, playing the Dom."
"If you remember that, then perhaps you'll have more compassion for me when you are under my hand again," Loki chides her. "And it is not your collar just yet." With cat speed Loki pulls his pet closer and rolls, pinning her with his body, hands pulling her arms up. He lets the ghostly hands grip her wrists and hold her down.
"My animals are the wolf and serpent," he reminds her. "Emblematic of ruthlessness and cunning, both of which serve me well. Now that I have your attention . . ."
Loki rises up, knees on either side of Star's hips. He snaps his fingers and a heavy necklace of stone appears in his palm, the green gems clacking softly. Loki dangles it above his pet's face, letting the end of the chain touch her nose. "These bind me to you, and you to me. Stones to spell my name, and stones to signify yours, my luscious little kitten. I thought long and hard about presenting them to you since they are unique. Still, there is no other worthy to wear them."
He holds the strand out, each end in a hand now, the curve displaying the jade green stones to their best advantage. "With this you are mine here in my realm. Do you accept?"
It's beautiful, and not at all what she was expecting. "Would I even be here, otherwise? Of course I accept."
Loki sighs with pleasure and stretches out, careful not to put too much weight on her as he puts the necklace around her delicate throat. The stones click again, and as he reaches to fasten the catch around the back of her neck, he brings his face down, nose brushing her ear.
"I love you," he tells her.