More muffled squealing greeted this, and one hand shot back to rub the little ring of teeth marks that now decorated the rounded summit of one cheek. Loki caught it gently and moved her hand back to the mattress. "Oh no, I think not, pet. Lie still and let me savor the glorious temptation your cheeky self presents. How I have longed to nip!"
He had; the sleek muscle and soft skin tempted him now, and Loki shifted to put a matching ring of light teeth marks on the other cheek, then looked down at his handiwork. A pulse of lust, strong and undeniable rose up and he grinned dangerously. Loki slid one hand between her thighs, palm up, the soft and damp fur brushing against his touch. His bride squirmed, rocking against the contact, but he laid his other hand across her ass, stilling her. "Shhhhh. Glories above, glories below."
Loki bit again, more firmly, enjoying the feral feel of doing so. He could smell his bride's arousal now, that hot perfume of salt and tangerine that rose from her skin, and that trickled against the hand under her. Slick, warm . . . He hummed against her skin, feeling her tense again. "You. Are. Ripe."
This made her moan a breathy little sound that sent more spikes of desire through his veins. Loki laughed, and moved to part her legs, leaning and trailing his tongue in a wet stripe down one cheek to the ticklish crease between ass and thigh.
"Hhhhhhhhusbanddddddd . . . ." her voice called, low and desperate.
"Mmmmm," he laughed and sat up, pulling off his clothing and letting it drop to the floor. "Heat within ice; both burn with equal measure, yet their balance can be tricky."
Loki watched her turn her head to look at him, and with sheer male arrogance he stretched out on her back, pinning her under him. The warmth of her skin against his cooler flesh felt delicious, as did the flex of her muscles as she tensed.
"Your place here is under me," he purred, nuzzling her hair, seeking out the rim of her ear. Loki nipped it gently, enjoying the way his bride bucked in protest. "I was your princeling, but you are now my pet; my sweet little bitch in the truest sense of the word."
At this she gave a growl; not of outrage but of sheer frustration as his cock pressed lengthwise between her cheeks, rubbing gently. Loki savored the sensation, eyes closing blissfully for a moment as he rocked gently against her ass. He laughed at his bride's little twitches and wriggles, pleased that she bore his weight easily. This was no delicate flower, no fragile human without strength of will. She had audacity and cunning and bending her to his desires thrilled him.
"I desire you," Loki whispered. "I lust for you, burn for you, and will take you strictly for my pleasures; is that understood?"
Another little growl, accompanied by a grinding buck up against him. He reached up to thread his fingers through her hair and tenderly pull, turning her face so he could loom over her shoulder and gaze into her defiant eyes. "You disagree?"
"Am I to have no . . . pleasure?" she hissed uncertainly.
Loki laughed, and moved to lick her cheek as he dragged his body on hers, heavy and aroused.
"Only by my decree, darling bride. Watch me and wait your turn."
Before she could protest again, Loki gave her a hard kiss and shifted back onto his knees, feeling a thrum of power at the sight of her body before him. He rolled her over, sliding his hands down the insides of her thighs to part them fully. Between them lay the soft wild tangle of his bride's fur, and within that, the tantalizing pink of her cleft gleamed wetly.
"For want of your quim I would destroy worlds," Loki muttered thickly. "More than just the madness of the Torden Stein drives me, Cynara my Sigyn."
He caught her blush, the rosy color flushing across her cheeks and down her throat. Loki smiled down at his bride, all too aware of his cock demanding satiation. He kept one hand on one of her thighs, and took himself with the other, lightly caressing his heavily veined shaft. "As the dark devours the moon and the heat devours the ice, so this dangerous little cleft will entice my prick, demanding my tribute. And I," Loki sighed pleasurably, "will resist, drawing out the consummation as long as I can, my sweet bitch, letting the heat incinerate us both."
She moaned at that, eyes dark as she gazed at him, and Loki saw her fight the urge to lift her arms to him. He leaned over her, smiling, his dark hair tumbling down around his lean face. With care, Loki arched himself, guiding his turgid length and barely breeching his bride as the thick head of his prick pushed in. He forced himself to stop there, letting his long hands slide around her hipbones, fingers spreading in a slow grip.
"Morrrre," she whimpered as she tried to lift her hips. Loki shook his head and watched her, his eyes glittering.
"Not yet," he told her in a hoarse whisper. "Feel this as it is." Loki's left hand let go of her hip, and slowly slid down the contours of that bone to the soft cushion of her mound, fingers tangling in her curls there. "Joined but not fulfilled; breeched but not crossed. Here is the difference between mere animal impulse and oh-so-deliberate choice my luscious pet: this glorious pause."
She stared up at him in a haze of desire, not understanding at first, squirming for more of him, but Loki bit his lip, forcing himself to keep still. It was difficult of course; his entire body wanted nothing more than to drive deeply into her, to give over to the urgent pangs of lust surging between his tense thighs. Wild heat bloomed deep in his stomach, and Loki knew that this consummation would end in life. Lightly he let the ball of his thumb slide over the little stiff bud buried deep in the slick petals of her sex, his caress as light as he could make it.
His bride drew in a breath, her nipples ruckered and pink now, her fingers clawing the fur coverlet as she gave a low cry of pleasure. Loki flashed his teeth at her, feeling the ring of muscle tighten around the head of his aching prick like a collar. "You like that."
"I . . . love that," she managed in a fevered tone. "Please, please, I'm begging you Husband, oh please!"
He rolled his lean hips forward, sinking deeper in, and the glorious squeeze made Loki groan, the sound escaping his long throat. The beautiful sight of his heavy prick sliding into her slick quim, of the changeless raw power of this deed stole whatever sanity he still had left. Loki leaned forward, caught his weight on one lean arm and thrust hard as he dropped his belly on hers.
Then the madness of rutting washed through them both, and there were no words, only tastes and grunts and the overwhelming pleasure in union of the basest sort, wild and without shame or apology. His bride wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her long legs around his hips to pull him in deeper. Lips tongue and teeth clashed with his, soft deep wet kisses punctuated with sweet obscenities and nips of silver pain.
It couldn't last; the lust built within him like an unstoppable wave, rising to a crest so strong it edged on pain, making his stomach cramp and his toes curl as Loki panted. His bride, his Sigyn arched up under him in a keen spasm, the muscles deep within her squeezing his cock until he thought he'd go insane with the thrill of her climax, each shudder a clench of tantalizing delight. Sweat left them both slick, and Loki pressed deeper, bringing his face to the side of her damp neck, lips hot against her skin. "Take what I give you, fill you with, my bride," he rumbled as his hips rocked faster against hers, pinning her down.
She clutched him tightly. Loki felt the shockwaves rush through him, quick hard pulses of gratifying pleasure as he grunted, his seed erupting in hot jets deep within his bride, each throb a shuddering delight. He slumped against her, light-headed, a little lost in the aftermath, but the curl of her fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck comforted him, and he dozed against her shoulder.
It was a long while before they found themselves aware again, tangled and sticky, damp but well-pleased. His bride ran her hand along the side of his face, her palm fitting against his cheekbone perfectly.
"Husband," she murmured, holding his gaze. "I feel it."
Loki sighed. With care he ran a hand down the flat of her stomach, watching his fingers glide along her cooling skin until his palm pressed against her abdomen. He concentrated a moment and gave a slow nod. "As do I. Fate might decree, but love carried out the deed; never doubt that."
"Fate," she echoed, her gaze growing bleak for a moment. "I know how this story ends, Loki. I knew before it began. That's why I didn't . . . I thought if it never happened . . ."
He turned his face to kiss her hand before speaking. "The story changes. It chips, re-forms, bends and returns, cracks here, splinters there, Wife. The Sigyns of the past had their story as did the Lokis of another age. When the saga begins again, who will know how it unfolds? In this moment you are a stolen bride, but not of Asgard. I may or may not bring on Ragnarok. Thor is neither bound to Sif nor Jane Foster. The Allfather may yet forgive me. All changes, variations, alterations. There is hope, my love."
She managed a sad smile. "So our son isn't necessarily going to become a wolf, or die?"
Loki smiled, his gaze brilliant. "No, not this time."
She sighed again, her finger tracing his lips. "Promise?"
"Yes," he told her, "this I know."
Barely an hour had passed; Cynara looked out on the same bleak tundra, dimly aware that Grunst had left, but his clipboard was still on the ground along with hers, pages fluttering in the wind. She set Sven-the-free down and he trotted off a few steps, little nostrils flaring against the wind.
"Wife," came Loki's soft voice. She turned; he stood in the doorway of the Torden Stein, clad once again in his green and gold leather armor, his helmet under one arm. "You hold the key to this stone, and with it, the key to Ravenscroft as well. This is our home."
Cynara nodded, and looked up at him, feeling too many emotions as she did so. He was handsome and imposing of course, but there was a gleam in his eyes that she knew was for her alone, along with a certain smile. He slid his free arm around her waist, pulling her close. "I will miss you, sweet bride, but I will return soon, all the better to know our child."
"You'd better," she told him quietly, "Because a lot of smelly brown stuff is about to hit the fan."
"God of Mischief," he reminded her before planting a kiss. She clung to him breathlessly, and when they pulled apart, Cynara licked her lips.
"Loki . . . how do you know?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. "How do you know our son isn't going to die, or become a wolf?"
"This I know," he told her quietly, "Because you bear a daughter."
Stunned, she watched him step back through the portal of the stone and even after the rock surface reappeared, solid and covered with Pictish circles she continued staring, her grin wide.
Cynara turned finally, catching the fresh breeze against her wet cheeks and picked up the clipboards.
She rubbed her stomach through the heavy parka.
"Wow. Okay," she announced. "We've got some plans to make, sweetie."
Trudging back to camp, followed by Sven, Cynara smiled again, and started to whistle.
end
