The rest of the day was uneventful, if one could call spending the day being pampered - waited on hand and foot - by a God - "uneventful" - and you're surprised at how at ease you are with him, but then he's being nothing but solicitous and attentive, to you and Lily both.
Kinda makes you wonder who tried to destroy New York City.
He even - very carefully, very subtly - gets both of you to take a nap that afternoon, while you're lying together in his big bed. Having fed you both - literally hand fed - chicken fingers and green beans you swore she'd never eat to Lily (you guessed you had to stop underestimating his effect on her, and long may it wave if he could get her to eat healthy foods) - and some more of that delicious veggie broth that was so good you really couldn't object to even though you were hungry and would have preferred something a little more substantial was spoon fed to you without spilling a drop.
And you say something to that effect - that you would have liked something more than broth - under your breath, although not much - as he sits on the edge of the bed with a small bowl for you on his lap, and a plate for Lily on the bed. But he just smiles at you, saying, "I had thought about that, but I didn't want to push it on the first day you're feeling better. You can have something more elaborate for dinner."
"Thanks ever so much, Your Majesty," you mutter sarcastically, forgetting that that title is not an impossibility for him.
And he simply leans forward and whispers boldly, "You're welcome," in a tone that lets you know that he heard but has decided to ignore your sarcasm.
Afterwards, he sits in an easy chair facing the both of you, his big feet up on the bed next to you, telling you stories about growing up on Asgard, and Lily is his first casualty, although you can hardly blame her. Within only a few minutes, you can hear her soft baby snores next to you.
And you realize that you're going to be next - whether you want to be or not. You're all toasty warm under the covers, belly fuller than it's been in a while but still behaving, and his voice, which is almost always warm and low when addressing you has become what you suspect is deliberately quieter and slower, all buttery soft and soothing - dangerously so.
A yawn overtakes you, and you're sure you see a hint of a smile turn up the ends of his lips, but it's gone so fast you can't be sure and he simply continues on with his story about some time he and Thor did something they probably oughtn't have, which seems to have been a pattern in his growing up years . . .
And the next thing you knew, Lily is jumping on the bed beside you.
"MUMMA, MUMMA, MUMMA!"
You turn onto your back while she bounces and fidgets until you manage to respond. "What?"
"See what Woki weft us?!
Those words were more than enough to get you to open your eyes immediately when little else would have. But the sight that greeted them was nothing to be alarmed about, thankfully. There was a good sized princess/fairy balloon floating above Lily, and attached to it - sort of, although there was no string connecting them - was an envelope that hovered well below it, which you reached out and caught before Lily got any ideas - although she was too enchanted by the balloon that seemed to magically follow her like a puppy.
You unfold the paper inside - which you note reluctantly smells exactly like him - and read the message:
My Gorgeous Princesses:
I have been unexpectedly called away from you to return to Asgard for what should be no longer than this evening.
Please make yourselves completely at home. Whatever you might want or need, all you, Mumma, have to do is ask for it out loud - twice - and it shall be yours.
I shall endeavor to get back to you as quickly as I can - hopefully no later than tomorrow morning - but regardless, do NOT leave my apartment before I have a chance to see you.
Your,
Prince Loki
You miss nothing about the note, from his bold, elegant scrawl to his intimation that their every wish would be fulfilled simply by saying it out loud twice - something you were not about to tell Lily - nor his autocratic order at the end about not leaving his apartment - before he had a chance to say goodbye, you assume - or his telling use of "Your" before his name, as if he felt he already belonged to the two of you but couldn't be sure enough that you were his not to scratch out the "My" in his salutation.
Not that he didn't then leave it there for you to see, knowing you were going to be the only one reading his note.
Despite his very generous - and frankly kind of stupid - trick - what if you had wished for an elephant or a Maserati? - you aren't about to take advantage of it, so you dismiss it as if he hadn't informed you of it, putting it completely out of your mind.
In the end, the two of you spend a very quiet evening in his apartment - which was kind of strange to be in without him, especially since you didn't know him all that well.
You are sick of - and surprisingly still somewhat uneasy about - the bedroom, perhaps because of the accumulation of evidence that he was interested in you in a manner you cannot begin to fathom, from him, of all people - so you spend most of the rest of the day in the big sunken living room, watching cartoons on a truly enormous flat screen TV. Overall, you do your best not to snoop, but is hard not to notice that Lily's thank you present has been beautifully framed and is hanging in a place of honor above the mantle, which warms your heart in ways you wished it didn't.
Even though Loki had said that he would ask Dr. Banner to come by that day to check you out again, he never arrives, and you wonder if the Avengers had gone with him to Asgard.
When you both get hungry, you poke about a little in the kitchen, but Prince Loki apparently doesn't keep much in the way of food on hand, but then, why would he?
You've suddenly gotten your appetite back and are disastrously close to hangry, so you call Pizza Hut and ask them to deliver a pretzel crust, pan pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and onions - then you change your mind and cancel the onions, not wanting to consider your motives for doing so very carefully - and substitute black olives instead, as well as a small personal pan cheese pizza for Lily.
When you give your address as Avengers Tower, you can hear the person on the other edge gulp loudly, and his voice shakes as he asks, "What apartment number?"
You're able to give it to him from memory, because your mind catches stupid, insignificant bits of info like that and you'd noticed it on the way in. He gives you the total and you put it on your credit card - money was tight enough that anything out of the ordinary budget-wise went on a card that you did your best to pay off every month, occasionally achieving your goal, most times not. He says it'll be about fifteen minutes.
Actually getting the pizza, though, ends up being nowhere near that easy and involves a phone call - to your cell, which you didn't think anyone around here had but then remembered that Fury had probably gotten it - from the front desk person - who is not the receptionist who let you in but apparently a security guard or the equivalent - who seems appalled that someone is ordering pizza and ends up escorting the petrified delivery guy to your door personally.
Apparently no one else in Avengers Towers has ever had pizza delivered.
Huh.
Although embarrassment about the situation has definitely set in, you - chubster that you are, which is exactly what you're sure both of the men are thinking, something to the effect that you should have ordered a salad, at least for yourself - do your best to bull your way through it.
You're hungry. There's no food here. You have a hungry daughter. What else were you supposed to do?
Still, the hassle and your concerns about what the guard might be thinking about it dampens your enjoyment, and you only eat about a half a piece, which is all your stomach seems to want anyway, luckily. You acknowledge to yourself that it probably wasn't the best move after you'd been sick, but what was done, was done. At least you didn't feel sick. That was something to be celebrated.
Lily resists going to bed at her usual time - of course - and you are feeling more lenient than you usually are, so you allow her to stay up an hour later, knowing she was hoping to kiss Loki good night before she goes to sleep, but eventually you tuck her in, and you aren't far behind, either. You're surprised at how exhausted you are when you really hadn't done anything, and the - his - bed looks enticingly comfortable - and you certainly know that it is - that you can't resist, even at a frighteningly early hour.
The next morning when you wake, there is still no Loki, so you poke around a bit in his room and find the drawer where he's stored your clothes then get Lily dressed in one of the outfits from the bulging wardrobe in the closet in her fake bedroom, and the both of you begin gathering all of your things together. As much as you aren't trying to be nosy, you do rummage a little beneath his kitchen sink for a trash bag in which to transport the surprising amount of stuff you'd accumulated since you've been there, although you very carefully only pack what you are sure is yours.
Lily, of course, wants to take the entire contents of that wonderful room Loki has created for her, but you tell her firmly that she could choose one tiara and one toy, and that was it.
She is not happy with that edict, pouting and stomping around and crying crocodile tears.
You stand before her and tilt her stubborn little chin up to look her in the eye, keeping your voice very carefully quiet and neutral as you repeat, "Two things - a tiara and a toy. We've - well, you've - had a lovely time here with Loki, but it's coming to an end and now we have to get back to reality. We do not live here and these things cannot come home with us. It's your choice, my darling daughter, whether you get those two things or nothing at all, depending on your behavior."
She huffs angrily a couple of times after you let go of her chin, but then begins to look around her - the - room in earnest, trying to decide what to take.
When she finally decides - on the stuffed dog she'd been carting around that you should have just chosen for her because you knew it was what she was going to end up with - as well as the most elaborately beautiful tiara he'd given her - and you had seen that choice coming, too - you have all the crap you'd gathered in a big hefty bag, your purse over your shoulder, and Lily's hand in yours, you march to the door and open it.
And there he stands, in full armor - and you realize you'd forgotten just how large he is, especially when he's wearing that - in the act of reaching for the doorknob himself.
His eyes meet yours and his eyebrows go up, then he takes a step forward, deliberately, and just that easily, crowding you back into his apartment.
"WOKI!" Lily drops what was in her hands and launches herself at him full speed, with the absolute surety of a little girl who knows she's loved by the man she's running to, who smiles brightly and scoops her up into his arms, holding her above his head for a long moment while she giggles down at him, then lowering her into his arms to hug her tightly, kissing her cheek very loudly.
"Why, Princess Lily, I have missed you overmuch!" he declares, smothering her in kisses while she laughs and tries to turn her head and push him away. Loki feigns rejection, hanging his head dejectedly for a moment, then raising it to look expectantly at you. "It appears I am out of favor with one of m - Princess."
He takes one big stride and is suddenly standing in front of you, still holding your daughter, who is resting her head against his chest and looking up at him adoringly. "But what say you, Princess?"
For once in your life, you say exactly what's on your mind, without clearing it first through your overactive conscience. "I say welcome home!" You smile up at him, but are completely unprepared for him to put Lily down to better close the small gap between you so he can take you into his arms for a warm kiss and a wonderfully tight hug that you knew you should resist or object to somehow, but you just can't find the desire to do so.
Someone small was tugging at Loki's armor, standing atop his boots and stomping with all her little might, and chanting peevishly, "NO! Woki hug me! WOKI HUG MEEEEE!"
To which Loki chuckles and bends down, not releasing you from his hold in the least, but lifting Lily with one arm to perch on his hip, then turn to give you another kiss - that is somewhat less successful than the first because of tiny little fingers that are diligently trying to worm their way between your lips and his, making the both of you laugh.
You take the opportunity to move a bit away from him as he puts Lily back down, and when he rises, he gives you a look that lets you know that he knows that you've done that.
His big hand rests atop Lily's head, absently stroking her hair while she clings to his leg like a limpet. "My apologies for having to leave you in the first place, and for being late back in the second, lovelies, but duty called."
"We understand."
You can see his eyes sweeping around the flat, taking in your preparations to leave - although he'd told you not to - and you want to look away from him when they finally light back on yours, but for some reason you can't.
"Going somewhere?" he asks smoothly, looking you up and down and noting that you are back in your own clothes.
Damn your telltale blush! But you manage to execute somewhat of a recovery. "Yes," you say brightly. "We were going to bring all this stuff down to the car and come right back."
His dubious look was almost enough to break you, but you somehow manage to stand firm.
Barely.
"Ah, I see," he says, although his eyebrow is still nearly at his hair line and you know you're skating on perilously thin believability ice with him.
Then he says something that distracts you, having noticed the box you left neatly by the garbage. "Pizza for dinner last night?"
His tone doesn't just suggest, it out and out states that he doesn't think that was a very good idea, but you stiffen your back. You're not sick any more, and he isn't your boyfriend - and even if he was, he wouldn't have the right to object.
"Yes. I was hungry, and there was no food in this apartment."
His head tilts as he looks at you. "All you had to do was say 'broth' or 'macaroni and cheese' twice . . . "
You had forgotten that - and were glad you did. That kind of thing would be entirely too dangerous. You'd meant to put it out of your mind, and you were successful.
"I know, but I didn't want either of those things; I wanted pizza. Hence the leftovers that are in your fridge."
He takes the step towards you that you had taken away from him. "And how are you feeling? Dr. Banner was right behind me - "
Right on cue, there's a knock on the door, but Loki doesn't move. Instead, he continues to eye you intently and you're sure he can see every wrinkle, every flaw, every pore in your skin, when, in fact, he simply wants you to reassure himself that you're better. He certainly hadn't meant to leave you alone for what he knew would probably be your last night with him, but, as he had said, duty had called - inconveniently, as ever.
He isn't at all sure that he's cut out for this heroing business, especially when it interfered with his time with - and his wooing of - you.
"You are well?" he prompts as there's another loud knock, still not making a move to answer it.
"Yes, yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you."
Looking more relieved than you think he ought to about a woman who is, essentially, a stranger, he murmurs, "I'm very glad to hear that."
Only then does Loki get the door.
It's the good Doctor, who at the sight of you up and about grins broadly. "Well, I think I can guess without the medical degree that you're mostly recovered?" although he still phrases it as a question as he ambles over to you.
"I am, thank you." He's such a nice man, you can't help but smile back at him.
Judging by Loki's glower, which you can see any time you look past the Doctor's shoulder, he apparently doesn't share your assessment of Banner at all.
The doctor checks your temp, and feels your glands, then takes your hand and pinches a bit of skin on the back of it. "Well, you've survived this plague, anyway, although you are a bit dehydrated, which is to be expected, so push fluids for a couple of days, huh?"
"Anything you say, Doctor."
Is he blushing? "You don't have to call me that - call me Bruce."
You offer your hand and he shakes it, holding it for a bit longer than is necessary, until someone behind him growls and he lets go, more out of surprise you think than any fear of the tall man who is standing behind him, face as dark and threatening as a thundercloud.
Ignoring him, you continue to smile at the doctor, even reaching out to touch his arm to emphasize your words. "Thank you very much for the impromptu house calls you've made on my behalf. I appreciate it enormously. What do I owe you? I'll send you a check."
He's very definitely blushing. "That's not nec -"
Loki has apparently had about enough, and inserts himself bodily between the two of you. "The doctor came here as a favor to me, so if there is any debt to be paid, it is mine alone," he growls, guiding the other man forcibly towards the door.
"It was very nice meeting you," Bruce throws over his shoulder as he's being none too gently ushered out.
"You, too!" you reply, waving at him as Loki closes the door loudly behind him, although your hand falls to your side at the look he gives you when he turns around to fix you with that very potent stare.
Not taking his eyes from you, he commands with an almost frightening softness, "Princess Lily, I need you to play quietly in your room for a few minutes while I have a little talk with your Mumma before you go."
Lily starts to do as he asked, but hesitates, and comes to stand in front of him, fingers in her mouth, a sure sign she is feeling unsettled. Immediately, Loki crouches before her and she moves to stand between his knees until he lifts her onto his thigh, and her arm naturally finds its way around his neck, which leaves her mouth unencumbered, but you notice that those wet, insecure fingers have glommed onto a hank of his hair just behind his ear instead, not that he seems to mind in the least.
"What is it, my angel?" he asks, so softly you can barely hear it.
"Mumma says we godda go!" she practically wails. "I don' wanna go! I wanna stay wiff yoooouuuuu!"
Loki hugs her to him for a long time, rubbing her back gently, then setting her back onto his knee. "Well, poppet, I'm afraid your Mum's right, because you don't live here. And you need to get back to the home where you and your Mumma live."
"But whad 'bout you? You'we opposed to be wiff us," she announced with a child's absolute certainty.
That made him smile. "You know," he whispered conspiratorially, looking over at you pointedly, "I would like nothing more than to have you two live with me, eventually. But not now. Now your Mumma must go back to work, and you go back to pre-school and playing pee-wee football and seeing your friends, but, maybe, sometime, if your Mumma agrees, I could come and visit you."
Oh, God in Heaven, NO!, your mind is screaming. That can NEVER, EVER happen. You would be horrified for him to see your tiny, ratty - no matter how clean you tried to keep it - wrong-side-of-the-tracks apartment.
But Lily - hell, the two of them, damn his manipulating heart - are looking at you as if you have the power to grant their greatest wish, so you don't say, "Hell no!" like you so desperately want to. Instead, you paste a big, fake smile on your face and say, "That sounds like a lovely idea," knowing in your heart that you'll do your best to make sure it never happens.
Lily looks at least a little happier at that idea - even if it is in the nebulous future.
Loki cups her small chin in his big hand, looking directly into her eyes. "I will not lose track of you, little one. Never you fear." He kisses her forehead tenderly. "I will always be just a thought away."
"I lub you, Woki!" she murmurs quietly, pressing her nose to his.
"I love you, too, my Princess." He kisses the tip of her nose and hugs her again, tightly, then puts her down on her feet. "Now, what did I ask you to do, babygirl?" he asks firmly.
"Pway quietwy in my woom fow a few minutes," she recites back to him, in his own voice, quite a few octaves higher.
"Very good. Now off with you." He nods his head towards her room, and she needs no further encouragement to dive into that princessy heaven.
When he rises, slowly, you know that his eyes have been inspecting you, from the tips of your comfortable sneakers to the hair you finally got a chance to run a brush through for the first time in what seems like forever, and you can feel yourself tremble because of it.
You're so distracted by the fact that you're blushing hard under his intense gaze that you're not prepared for it when he takes your hand and leads you to the door to his room, stopping before he enters and nodding for you to go ahead of him - which you do not want to do but for some unknown reason you can't keep yourself from doing anyway - and then closing the door behind him and leaning against it with his hands tucked behind him, contemplating you as you stand before him, fidgeting nervously.
But if you didn't want him to do this - what you know he's going to do - what he's promised you he was going to for the past couple of days - then why are you here - alone in his bedroom with him, not really having given any sign of protest? And why were your lady parts dampening at the thought - parts that sincerely hoped he didn't stop at merely spanking you?
Merely? Where'd that come from?!
You couldn't imagine that spanking from Loki could ever be described as "mere"!
You shake your head a little to clear it of such rebellious thoughts.
Which lasts all of five seconds as he moves towards you, at which point you determine that, no matter how much some pretty important parts of you might think you want him to do this - no matter how much the idea titillates you, and it does - you have to try to stop him from doing it.
And, knowing full well that you are revealing what a wuss you are, you can't keep yourself from taking a step away from him and putting your hand out.
Yeah, right. Like that's going to stop him, idiot!
"Wait, no - you can't -" your mind scrambles for a viable reason why not - "you'll scare Lily."
"This room is soundproof, as is hers," he replies patiently, assuming a wide-legged power stance in front of you - although not terribly close - and lacing his fingers together in front of him, as if he knows exactly what you're trying to do and will deal with each objection patiently - although there's no telling when that patience might run out.
But that was exactly what you'd hoped he'd say. "Then we won't be able to hear her if something happens," you crow triumphantly.
One side of his mouth quirks up. "I'll be able to hear her." He moves a bit closer, although you're so absorbed in trying to invent reasons why he can't do as he'd said he would that you don't notice it.
When you really should have.
"Oh."
Rats! That was your best chance! You have to think fast, which is not something you're very good at, at least not when you're so nervous, anyway.
Inspiration finally hits.
"You can't - I, uh, I'm feeling sick."
His eyebrows rise, then furrow quickly, taking a step towards you that feels natural and not as if he's stalking you - as if it's only out of pure concern for you. "Well, then I guess I'd better tuck you back into bed and tell Lily that you're not going anywhere."
"Fuck." You sigh heavily and confess, "No, I'm fine."
"Did you just fib to me?" he asks, pinning your eyes with his.
Crap.
"No, I - uh - "
"Since you've already earned two spankings, I would suggest that you not add lying to me just to get out of one of them, since that would very much have the opposite effect. You're a smart woman, and that would not be an intelligent choice."
All of a sudden you realize that he is standing very close to you, staring, rapt, like prey before a predator, as he reaches out his hand slowly to you, his eyes searching yours the entire time, and you would swear he's trying to be reassuring, but you just couldn't buy it, so you skitter away from him, going around him, even knowing there wasn't anywhere on the planet - much less this now tiny seeming room - where you could truly get away from him if he didn't allow you to. You don't even try the door, assuming it's locked, but instead put your back to the wall next to it, assuming a position as far away from him as you can get.
But Loki doesn't pursue you as you expect him to. Instead, he sits down on the end of the bed, his hand still out to you, palm up, waiting for you to come to him and put yours into his. And, as he does so, his armor fades so that he is now in a gorgeous green button up shirt that's open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled up, black suit pants, and black leather dress shoes.
Frankly, it's just how you would have dressed him if you were picturing this scene in your mind - not that you would, of course. And you don't allow that thought to distract you.
"But I never agreed to this," you whisper.
One black eyebrow goes up, and he looks mildly surprised. "When it comes down to it, it doesn't require your agreement. It merely requires my enforcement."
It was your turn to have a face like a thundercloud at that statement - it's the second time he's said that or something very close to it and you haven't liked it either time - until he continues, "If you'll remember, I told you exactly what would happen, and I even pointed out that, if you disobeyed me, you would do so with the full knowledge of what I was going to do to you if -" he said with a small smile to himself, as if he always knew you would - "when you did."
You're biting your lip, knowing he's right and hating him for it and yourself for making him right.
Still, so far he had treated both you and Lily with nothing but kindness. You can't see that he was going to turn all evil all of a sudden and beat the ever loving shit out of you.
Probably not, anyway.
At your obvious - and completely understandable hesitance - he begins to speak in that most melodious tone of his, his words and their potent meanings working a kind of magic on you that had nothing to do with tricks or incantations, and everything to do with how intrinsically safe he made you feel you are with him – even against your will.
"Women on Asgard are treated in a manner I think you Midgardians regard as old fashioned - they are to be cherished and protected, even from themselves and their own naughty behavior." His eyes never leave yours, that beautiful hand of his still extended towards you. "I applaud and support, however, Midgardian women's desire for more than that, for their independence, although I must confess that I have a hard time curbing my less modern tendencies when it comes to you and Lily, in regards to wanting to keep you safe and well."
He continues in that insidious, silver-tongued way of his, head tilted slightly as he considers you. "If I was more of a gentleman than I am I'd let you off with just a warning."
Your eyes flare with hope at that.
"But unhappily for you, I am nowhere near enough of one at heart to do that. I have said that you would be punished if you disobeyed me, and so you shall, and although it will be quite thorough and uncomfortable - otherwise I wouldn't bother to do it for you - I doubt it will be the horror that you are undoubtedly building it up to be in your mind, despite the fact that I have given you no reason to think that I would ever harm you - or Lily - and, indeed, have stated categorically that I would not several times."
Unbelievably, even to yourself, the truth of what he's saying has you taking a miniscule step towards him, and the warmth - and pleasure - that suffuses his face at that small action is nearly enough to send you running to him, open armed, like Lily so often did.
In a way, you wished - with a wrench of your heart - that you felt you could do that - at this time or any other. You'd never had that feeling about another person - certainly not Brian - and you continue to be surprised that you are yearning for things to be that way between you and Loki.
But not quite. You're still very tentative, still thinking seriously of bolting - to Lord knew where, but somewhere - still gripped by a fear you couldn't begin to describe - as well as a raw, highly sexualized excitement that you heartily wished would do the proper thing and leave you alone, rather than causing your body to ready itself for him in an entirely too intimate manner, making your heart pound in your throat as your breath escaped your body in great, nervous puffs.
"That's it. Come to me, Princess," he whispers encouragingly.
And you do, staring into his eyes and mindlessly - if slowly - covering the ground between you, wishing you could blame your actions on his magic, but knowing - in your heart and mind - that he is not coercing you to obey him in an other-wordly manner, but, instead, was doing so in an entirely too earthy way.
A few small steps away, your hand goes out tentatively, and his waits for you to decide to trust him, his hand rock steady and unwavering, although you think you can see that he's holding his breath in anticipation until your fingers touch his, and then you can hear it sigh out of him, even though you're just barely in contact with him, still ready to retract it at any sign of aggression from him, but there is none, as you know, deep down, there won't be.
His fingers don't even fold around yours until your hand is fully in his and for a long beat, afterwards, then, and only then - when they finally do - you feel almost relieved at their warmth and gentleness as he squeezes your fingers once, with great care, tugging you the last few tiny steps to him.
He stands when you finally get to him, so that you're flush up against him, kissing you more boldly than he has, his other hand splayed at your back, not confining you, just there, and you can feel the sure and certain rise of his desire against your yielding tummy, just as you're sure as he can feel both the hard peaks and firm softness of your breasts against the muscles of his chest.
With one of his big, gentle hands on either side of your face, he tips it up so that you have no choice but to look at him, breathing softly, "You will never know just how honored I feel that you have decided to trust me like this on such short acquaintance. I vow, right here and now, that I will do everything in my not-inconsiderable power to live up to the trust you have placed in me, and to be mindful of it - and you - every second for the rest of my life."
His words sounds uncomfortably serious and proposal-ish, you think, but you aren't about to say anything because you don't want to make a fool of yourself and presume anything.
As his thumbs caress your face, his eyes searching yours, he sits down again, his right hand sliding down your left arm to take gentle possession of your hand, tugging slightly as he pats his knee with his other hand, and you know that he expects you to place yourself over his lap.
He's not going to force you, not going to do it for you. He wants something much more intimate - something much more powerful: for you to place your very vulnerable self over his lap and into his care.
And, although you hesitate, your mind racing, your uppermost thought is that you've been doing that for a couple of days already, and he's taken exquisite care of you. If he'd wanted to hurt you - or Lily - at any time, he could have done so long since.
It is that thought that you try to keep in mind as you slowly - very, very slowly - do as he is silently asking and stretch yourself out over those improbably long legs of his, barely able to believe that that's what you're doing even as you're doing it, and discovering that his lap is surprisingly comfortable, although you refuse to acknowledge that realization.
Being in this position was not something you ever intended to enjoy, or even get used to in any way.
This was a one time thing – an aberration – like this entire incident. That was probably how your mind allowed you to end up here. It was something that was happening out of time, a couple of days that would never be repeated.
When you finally left, you doubted you'd see Loki again, despite his blatant affection for Lily – and, if he was to be believed, you. You couldn't see him tagging along after you to your run down, inner city apartment like some lovesick boy.
He was a God.
You are a lower middle-class Midgardian woman, a single parent, with a dead end job and a mailbox full of bills.
This was your one shot to experience something interesting in your life – something different. You doubted very many other women could claim to have had a God looking after them and their child, much less spanking them, and you can't imagine that anything like this is ever going to happen to you again.
Wait – are you considering this a good thing? Something to brag about to your friends?
Your mind pulled you away from your egotistical daydreaming by reminding you of a few jarring realities.
Remember the size of this man's hands.
And his strength.
And his magic.
With those sobering thoughts, you swallow hard, mouth dry as the Sahara, as the fingers of one of those big hands lands on your bottom, then begins to slide upwards, towards the waistband of your leggings.
"Let's dispense with your –" he suggests softly.
At the very same time, you stiffen, almost yelping, "Don't do that, I'm not wearing any –"
But it's already too late - by the time he stops, your voice is the only one that can still be heard saying, "Panties," as you feel him strip the material expertly down over your bare behind and you know that the reason he's not talking any more is that he's gazing down at your naked butt.
He's either been mesmerized or horrified by the sight, and you're not at all sure you want to know which it is.
