4/6

Wow, thank you so much for the positive reviews on the last chapter! NightlyBlueDemons, Lokisloyalbitch and murdur thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think. Your lovely words have given me a massive confidence boost and I'm already plotting out some more smutty Loki fics.

Thank you to everyone who has favourited or followed this fic. I hope you will continue to enjoy it.

Welcome to the morning after the night before with Loki…

xo

Chapter 4

It was the scent lingering on the bed sheets which alerted an awakening Sif to the fact that she was not in her own bed. Mixed with the lavender commonly used to wash bed linen was a crisp masculine scent. One that her body instinctively reacted to with a shiver of pleasure before her mind had even begun to connect the pieces. Her hands slowly spread out around her, fingers sliding over material much more luxurious than her usual bedding. She was alone. The coolness of the space beside her indicated that this had been the case for some time now. For some reason, this disturbed her more than being in another person's bed. There was perhaps a minute or two where she was consumed with the desperate need to recall the events of last night but her brain was still too addled with sleep to co-operate. Then her memory returned with all the force of Mjolnir. In vivid colour (and sound too) the images flooded her mind. Thor's cheeky wink. Dancing with Loki. Her dagger. Loki's mouth on hers. Loki's mouth everywhere. 'Beg me.' And she had.

She supposed that this was the point where she was expected to be overwhelmed by guilt and shame at her unmaidenly actions last night. Tough. Sif refused to indulge in such ridiculous notions. Why should she carry such a burden when men did not? She could take her pleasure as freely as any of them. And it had been enjoyable. Very much so. Sif allowed herself a smile of satisfaction as she stretched out her body savouring the luxurious texture of the bed sheets against her bare skin. She ached everywhere, the ache of a woman who had been thoroughly worshipped and sated the night before.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and cautiously she lifted her head up, fully expecting to feel a twinge of pain for drinking so much of the berry wine last evening. There was a slight throbbing at the back of her skull but it was a relatively dull ache and could be ignored. No doubt the subdued lighting and fresh air flooding Loki's chambers helped.

Turning her face in the direction of the soft breeze, she found her attention caught by the shimmering green drapes across the balcony. They were so delicately woven that they bordered on transparent, the subtle hue of green almost seemed to dance upon the material as if it could be scattered away with the mere touch of her hand. Nothing as insubstantial as these drapes should be able to block out the glare of the morning light but given their location in Loki's chambers it was a safe bet that they were somehow enchanted.

Ah Loki. As the memories continued to race through her mind, Sif wanted to bury her face in the soft whiteness of the pillow. Whilst, she refused to play the part of the disgraced lady, she couldn't help feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed at just how easily she had succumbed to Loki's clever caresses, how she had allowed him to commit shockingly intimate acts upon her person and worse of all how she had begged and pleaded for more. Just remembering the sensation of his tongue gliding past her lips, the sound of his wickedly soft voice in her ear, the dexterity of his strong hands… It made blood rush to her cheeks and the rest of her body ache with longing.

With a scowl, Sif twisted sideways and pressed her face against the coldness of the neighbouring pillow. What was wrong with her? She was acting like one of those pathetic, lovesick women who drifted around aimlessly casting imploring looks at the various warriors they believed themselves to be besotted with. The thought was sufficiently horrifying enough to make her resist the urge to bury her nose in the linen and breathe in her lover's scent. Loki's scent. Thor's little brother. She firmly quashed the niggle of doubt that this thought generated. Later. She would deal with the consequences later. For now, her gaze fell upon the Prince sitting at his desk, she had more pressing matters to deal with.

Even though his back was turned to her, Sif still clutched the sheets against her body as she raised herself into a sitting position. He had seen quite enough of her last night. Glancing around for something a little more suitable to use as cover, Sif frowned darkly as she remembered her gown would no longer be fit for purpose. Of all the things to be concerned with, the destruction of her gown may seem like a trifling matter but she had few gowns of such finery and it had been one of her favourites.

Her frown lessened somewhat to find that someone, presumably Loki, had left her robes at the foot of the bed. Sliding noiselessly out of the sheets, Sif stifled a gasp at how cold the marble felt against her bare feet. An anxious look in the direction of the Prince showed that he was still absorbed in his work. Picking up the robes, Sif ran a contemplative hand over the cream silk. She half-expected the Prince to dress her in his own colours in a petty attempt to assert some form of ownership over her. There had been glimpses of such a man in Loki, of a darker, more possessive side to him but judging from these robes, she had been mistaken.

Once her new clothing was securely fastened, Sif began to stroll across the chambers to her lover of the night before. He was unnervingly quiet, even the scratching of his pen against the paper seemed fainter than usual. She found the thought of sneaking up on him highly amusing. She wanted to startle and distract him from whatever it was that he deemed so important that it was worth abandoning his bed when it held a naked and willing partner. A wry smile crept over her lips, only Loki could be more interested in dusty books and magic than coupling.

"Hungry?"

There hadn't been so much a flicker of interest to indicate that he had even noticed her awakening let alone stealing up on him. Sif scowled, her plans for pouncing now in ruins. Her only comfort was that his softly spoken question came loaded with all sorts of wicked insinuations. The type that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"No," she answered with a touch of defiance. Shame that the effect was somewhat weakened by the huskiness of her voice. She really must have been screaming his name last night. The thought made her uncomfortable but it didn't stop her from leaning over his shoulder to see what he was working on. It was a deliberate invasion of his personal space; an ebony curl brushing against his cheek, the soft warmth of her breasts pressing against the leather of his tunic.

Loki turned the page of the book in front of him, he didn't even spare her so much as a glance. Nor did he seemed affected by her closeness. "Breakfast has been laid out on the other table."

Sif couldn't help giving the pictures a look of suspicion. They appeared to be illustrations of plants with various markings for chemicals beneath them. What need did the Prince have to study vegetation? Particularly the morning after a feast. Was his head not sore and heavy like the rest of the warriors?

Annoyed that her presence was proving to be less disruptive than she had envisaged, Sif couldn't stop herself from provoking him. "What are you doing?" It was a bland question delivered in a bored voice by a person who clearly had no interest. Exactly the sort of thing that Loki had no patience for.

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as if he were repressing a smile. "Come now my lady," he replied in a cool, measured manner, "We both know you are no scholar."

Sif made no effort to hide her indignant huff. Just because she favoured a swordfight with a worthy opponent over spending time in Asgard's vast libraries did not mean that she was lacking in intelligence. "I'm sure I can keep up."

A chair appeared rather conveniently by Loki's side. "Very well." For the first time that morning, Loki turned his head to look directly at her. There was a glint of something akin to amusement in his eyes even though his narrow mouth remained stern and unsmiling.

Sif's gaze raked over him, drinking in every detail of the prince's appearance in a way that would have seemed utterly foreign to her just yesterday. She supposed that she was looking to find out what had suddenly made him so alluring last night. He was extraordinarily good-looking, she would give him that. If you preferred the dark, sleek and brooding type. Which she didn't. And she didn't feel an uneasy frisson of attraction towards him either. She definitely didn't want to slowly unfasten his clothing in order to trail her hands over the lithe body beneath. Or to bite down on that lower lip which was just begging to be tasted…

It was embarrassingly difficult to tear her gaze away from him. Chiding herself once again for acting so ridiculously, Sif gave the newly appeared chair a sharp kick. Both to test that it was real and not some clever illusion of his intended to trick her and also to vent her increasing frustration at this entire situation.

Loki waited with exaggerated politeness until Sif was settled upon the chair before speaking. "A new breed of snake has infiltrated the lands of Nidvellir, possibly drawn there by their rather unique combination of blazing furnaces and damp, dark caverns. It is proving to be quite a troublesome foe for the dwarves; small, quick, fangs sharp enough to pierce chainmail and a venomous bite which can kill within hours. The usual antidotes and treatments are ineffectual." Loki tugged another book out from beneath the one that he had been studying. Anatomical sketches of snakes and tiny, cramped notes covered the pages. "It is my belief that this new variant is derived from a Midgardian species. By studying the venom of its predecessor, I should be able to produce the right mixture of -"

Loki's eyes lit up with passion when he was discussing his research, his usually guarded composure giving way to animation. His fingers would trail lovingly across the pages, his smiles were quick, eager and seemed much more genuine. Sif couldn't recall ever seeing the younger Prince like this but then again she hadn't been paying much attention before. His tongue would flick out to moisten his lips as he talked. That tiny, probably unconscious, gesture made heat uncurl in the very pit of her body. Staring at his mouth, all Sif could think about was how much she wanted to feel his tongue gliding against hers. She had a vague awareness that he was speaking of Healers and the All-Father, of diplomatic relations and medicinal trade and that he was starting to grow wary, an edge of annoyance creeping into his rich voice as he realised she wasn't paying full attention to his words.

There were many reasons why she shouldn't lean forward and take his face in her hands. Reasons which were vitally important and concerned a certain God of Thunder. But reason and desire were often opposites and Sif had a tendency towards seizing what she wanted rather than listening to caution. Why else would she have chosen a difficult path as a shieldmaiden rather than meekly accepting a suitable position as a lady at Court?

She cut Loki off mid-sentence. Her lips felt clumsy and overenthusiastic as they pressed against his. There was a pause of two, no three, heartbeats where he didn't respond, his lips unmoving beneath hers, his hands still clutching the dusty tome. She was almost ready to pull back when the book landed with a thud on the floor, one of his hands winding its way into her hair, his mouth was hungry and fierce against hers, his tongue immediately demanding dominion over hers.

She fought back; her tongue pushing past his in attempt to invade his mouth, her hands roaming over his body unfastening the various buckles and clips of his armour. Mind clouded by lust, she was successful in forcing aside the doubtful voice which was trying to whisper caution. Right now, she didn't care that Loki was different from the men she had previously shared a bed with, that he was royalty, that he was Thor's brother.

She had no hesitation in closing the space between them, in straddling him and tugging sharply on his hair so that he tilted his head upwards allowing her mouth access to the temptation of his throat. She was surprised that he had let her this far without assuming control. The near-certain knowledge that he would snap and seek to assert his authority added to the tension, to her eagerness. It had the perverse effect of making her want to push him further, find out exactly where those boundaries lay.

Pushing aside his shirt, she paused for a moment to trace her fingers lightly over the darkening bruise on his shoulder. Although, the wound was already healing, she could still see the deepness of her teeth marks, the vivid black-purple of the surrounding skin standing as testament to the pain that she must have inflicted on him last night. Sif's stomach recoiled at the sight. She might enjoy a bit of roughness with her lovers, if only to prove that she was their equal, but this, her touch was ghost-like over the damaged skin, she could never take pleasure in hurting her partner.

However, any apologies she would have given him died away when she looked up to find him wearing a look of unmistakable pride. "You were very determined not to scream." As his hands slipped under her robes, his gleeful smirk widened into a grin that was pure mischief. "I wonder just how hard can you bite?"

Without warning, he kicked back the chair and rose to his feet. Strong arms kept her in place, tightly pressed against his hardening body. She had no need to wrap herself around him as he carried her back to his bed but she did so nonetheless.

"I trust that you will be discrete about this matter."

Loki's words startled her not least because it was as if he had stolen them from her tongue. Those were meant to be her words, her warning that this dalliance meant little but would cost her partner dearly if news of it reached the ears of others. It was disconcerting to be the one hearing them. Especially when delivered in such a dispassionate manner.

Looking up from her drink, Sif felt something tighten in her chest at the cold, impersonal demeanour of the man before her. Dressed fully in his usual garb of light armour and leather, Loki looked exactly like the prince she had known but not noticed for so many years. She saw no trace of her passionate and surprisingly generous lover in the stiff, controlled creature before her. Loki's ability to entirely transform himself in a matter of minutes was unnerving. It made her wonder which persona was real and which was the clever mask.

"Of course," she retorted letting her voice fill with all the scorn and contempt that she would have previously treated a suggestion that she could find the younger prince attractive. For good measure, she threw in a dismissive glance over his body as if he was barely worth the effort.

Perhaps, it was just a trick of the light but something cold and dead seemed to slither into the blue of his eyes. It was gone before Sif could even blink let alone question it further.

His mouth turned upwards in a familiar, mocking smile. "I shall leave you to see yourself out. Matters of state and all that." His drawling tone was dripping with self-importance as he gestured vaguely in the direction of his desk. Before she could say anything further, he turned abruptly on his heel and strode out of the chambers.

Chapter 5 teaser:

'He ruins women Sif.'

As ever any feedback would be greatly appreciated! :) xo