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4. Of Fear and Fever
As soon as The Other shouted, Natasha pushed out of Loki's arms and leaped for a section of wainscoting in the kitchen. She manipulated a carved wolf's head on the lintel, and the section swung back to reveal a dark hole behind it. There was no hesitation; the agent's movements were smooth and economical: a tug on Loki's waist. A dive into the darkness. A push on the button that closed the space.
They were in something the woman who sold Loki the penthouse called a "Panic Room" – a metal-lined square unreachable from the outside once it was activated. Naturally, the place was no match for the power of The Other, but Loki had retrofitted it with a leadbarrier in one corner. Fine lines of runic patterns were etched into the lead, creating a shield that would mask sound enough to hide them… or so Loki hoped.
When the door closed the space became black as the depths of space where Loki once fell, hurtling past planets and suns in a long death spiral. He curled one arm around Natasha's waist and pulled her behind the lead border, praying it would work well enough to hide the sound of their heartbeats. Because The Other could sense everything, Loki knew that – the being would smell the spicy Vietnamese food, Natasha's shampoo, the faint whiff of fear. He would be able to hear the very blood pulsing in their veins, and Loki hoped the protection would hold.
Together they knelt behind the barrier. Loki had prepared a few things for emergencies: a few glass rocks, pen and paper, several pouches of water, some simple food.
He couldn't use magic – it would instantly alert The Other to their presence. Not having his enchantment made Loki feel as though a limb had been lopped off, but he would simply have to adapt. Cautiously he flicked a tiny lighter and lit the glass rocks in a stone bowl; they were designed to burn for five hours. He needed to convey a few plans to Natasha, and light was necessary to do it.
She sat back on her heels and regarded him gravely. Quickly he picked up the paper and wrote a few lines: He is The Other. We are in grave danger. No sound for the next few hours.
Natasha's face was lit by the dancing flames as she took the message and read it; the light enhanced her cheekbones and flaring arcs of her eyebrows. She nodded, and slowly she settled into a more comfortable position.
Loki moved closer so he could whisper into her ear if he had to, his legs surrounding the agent's small frame. The lead barrier worked both ways, and there was silence from the outside. The effect was constraining; he wished he could hear what The Other was doing: shouting for him, probably, and blowing up the contents of the Penthouse.
How did you know about the panic room? Loki added.
Natasha tilted her head to look up at him in her signature move, the one that reminded him of a sparrow. Never would he see those small birds again and not think of her, Loki realized. He stared back at her, his heartbeat thundering in his ears – he tried to calm himself, but the agent's proximity seemed to make him lose all control.
I did my homework, she wrote back.
Even with the imminent hazard outside – but, no, that made it worse. Loki always loved skirling the line between danger and death, and the thought of facing his last moments of life with the mortal next to him made the breath hitch in his throat.
The tiny sound caused her to look up – another of those micro motions of hers he enjoyed so much. Loki was about to put his lips to her ear and whisper silver words of seduction, when the floor beneath them shuddered.
Outside, the Other was destroying something – the floor, the walls – who knew? Natasha turned her head to listen, and her hand dropped onto Loki's thigh.
His leg, and his erection. Her fingers brushed his swollen shaft – had he ever been so hard before? Just a mere touch of flesh on leather covering his own aching flesh, and he was ready to come apart. Loki couldn't help sucking in another tiny gasp of air.
Quickly he seized the pen and wrote the one thought left in his mind: I want to push it inside you.
Natasha took the paper and read what he had written. Her lips parted, her eyelids fluttered closed for a second. Feeling for the pen, she scribbled a line and handed the paper back to Loki.
I want you to do it.
The floor shuddered once more. Loki paid no attention, nor did Natasha – he stared into her eyes blown wide in the dark as though he faced a revelation, with only certain death keeping them apart.