This chapter is pure porn. Just to warn you. Review, review, review!

Life During Wartime

Chapter Ten

Frances had never been a prolific sleeper and today was no different, she awoke from her slumber after what felt like ten minutes, Loki still on bended knee stroking the life back in to her hand.

"Why must you hurt yourself so?" he asked, eyes trained on the task in front of him

She chuckled softly, brain still fogged with sleep, "why must you hurt everyone?" she retorted back at him.

"It is not my intention Frances, to hurt people, but something that I seem to do regardless."

"You've killed thousands Loki, burned cities to the ground, enslaved your brother and his friends and kept me prisoner for some ungodly reason, you have no humanity Loki, don't waste your time trying to woo me."

Loki kept his face straight as the rage rumbled through him, although Frances did indeed interest him, there was no need to woo her. It wasn't her heart that he wanted to steal, it was her life force, her very essence, and to crush it he wouldn't need to use sweet talk. He didn't literally want to kill her, just make her completely and entirely his, until there was nothing of her own personality left.

"I don't wish to make you love me Frances, I wish you to fear me, depend on me until there is not a single part of you that can live without me," he spoke meticulously, his stare still focused on her almost healed hand.

"And what if I don't fear you Loki? What then?"

"You will fear me, you are mortal, and mortals always fear that which they cannot understand."

His words were drenched in the conceited egotism only a God could muster. She felt the life return to her hand, his cooling touch had healed her where she had only wanted pain, something to rid her of the empty sensation which had come to dominate every waking moment. He sat opposite her on the floor, seemingly unaffected by the flames which were beginning to make her sweat again.

"You must be washed Frances," he muttered, nostrils flaring to inhale her scent.

Frances shivered at the thought of being bathed by such a monster, of being completely helpless whilst he washed her. "I'd rather rot, Master," she replied, sarcasm inflicting itself upon her tone.

"Whilst you are in my presence you shall be clean, I will not take a filthy girl and make her mine."

He stood abruptly and pulled her with him, a firm hand snaking its way around her waist. In a few quick motions he had guided her out of the room and down a long, winding corridor. Outside of her chambers the air was cold and she was slightly grateful for the mercy it provided from the thick heat of the fire filled bedroom. It wasn't long before she was taken into another room, with a light as clinical as the one where she had been chained. In the corner there was a deep bath fixed to the wall, and Frances wondered whether it had always been on the helicarrier, or whether it was something Loki had magicked into existance.

"Take off your dress," he commanded, shutting the door behind them.

Frances stared at the bath, too frightened to follow his command. With a flick of his hand the light dimmed, candles appeared to each side of her, guiding the way to the bath which was now surrounded by golden light.

"Take off your dress or I shall do it for you," he breathed in her ear, his body flush against hers.

With shaking hands, Frances reached behind her to pull down the zip, but her movements could only get her so far. His breath tickled her earlobe as he pushed her hair to one side and grabbed a hold of the zip himself. Slowly, dangerously, he pulled down, exposing far too much of her flesh for her to feel comfortable. With every inch he exposed, a groan escaped from his mouth, a frozen hand pressing upon the skin that Frances was desperate to cover. When the zip reached its end at her lower back, hands held her shoulders, pushing down the straps of the dress until the garment fell from her entirely.

"Wonderous," he breathed.

Her body shook as she felt the hardness of his body pressed against hers, tears welled in her eyes and she closed them tightly, trying to concentrate on anything but the man behind her.

Loki pushed her towards the bath and she stumbled slightly, refusing to open her eyes. With a guiding hand upon her shoulder, he stopped her just as she reached the edge of the tub and turned her to face him.

"Watch me," he demanded, reaching icy fingers to pry her eyelids open. Loki grinned as she glared at him, her body deadly still, eyes watery. In a few sharp movements Loki had rid himself of clothing and stood proudly before her, soaking up the horrified look upon her face. Although he wasn't as muscular as his brother, he stood just as powerfully. His body was slim but strong and Frances had no doubt in her mind that if he advanced upon her, she wouldn't be able to fight him. He stood tall, and although Frances was no shrinking violet, he had a good four inches on her. She didn't dare look below the waist, what lay beyond there was of no interest to her, although she couldn't stop the tiny part of her mind from wondering.

"Get in Frances," he spoke, smirking at her evilly. There was simply no way of escaping, even if she could overpower Loki for just one instant, long enough to get out of the room, then where would she flee too? A naked girl upon Loki's helicarrier would sure garner some attention, there was no way to fight him, no scenario in which she came out on top, so she submitted and placed one foot in the bathtub. Loki was not long behind her, dragging her down into the warm depths of the water.

Frances lay still as Loki wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his wet, hard body. "You've needed a bathing ever since you stepped foot on this ship," he spoke, almost insultingly into her ear. She trembled underneath his firm grip, terrified at what he might do next.

"Filthy, from head to toe," he moaned, one hand moving to rest upon her thigh. He leant up slightly and reached over to acquire some soap, lathering it in his hands behind her. Loki began on her shoulders, massaging them gently, watching the soapy bubbles gather on her back and in her hair. The pure white of the soap created the perfect contrast upon her tanned skin, and he watched in awe as the tension visibly faded from her body.

"You're enjoying this, don't deny it," he said, almost laughing. "It's ok Frances, you don't have to be ashamed."

Frances cursed him silently as she felt her body relax into his touch, betraying her every wish to stay strong and not give in to him. His fingers worked her roughly, his hands getting faster, massaging circles on her shoulders. She groaned softly before she could catch herself and his breath hitched in his throat, fingers stopping their ministrations to slide down her back. Slowly, careful, he pawed at the skin under her arms, almost touching her breasts but never quite making his way there. And as time went on, his touches grew lower, until he was pressing them firmly over the curves of her stomach, massaging the soft flesh. Frances grew self conscious, never was she a slim woman, but she wasn't fat by any stretch of the mile. Loki's touch was intimate and pleasurable and no matter how much she despised him, in that moment she was willing to give herself to him, completely.

"I knew you'd come around Frances, you humans aren't that difficult to control," he whispered, his voice sending sensations to places where she knew they shouldn't trespass.

"I hate you," she retorted, leaning in to his touch like a kitten being stroked by its owner.

"And I you," he replied, his hands now creeping round her stomach to caress her thighs. She quivered, wanting to break away from his touch that was making her feel things that sickened her. This way Loki, Loki spreading her thighs apart, Loki snaking his way closer to her core, Loki rubbing the soft flesh of her inner thigh, Loki moving his hands higher to touch her in her most intimate of areas.

As his fingers ghosted across her lips, she bucked her hips into his hand, desperate for more contact.

"And you thought you would be able to resist. Frances Booth, the girl who thought she would be able to conquer her Master," his words were doing nothing to relieve the tension that pooled in her stomach. Part of her felt ashamed, but a larger part was frenzied and shockingly turned on by his actions, by the hand that roughly stroked her.

"Fuck you," she whispered as she melted into his hand, one finger circling her entrance. Behind her she was certain he was smiling at her words of defiance and although her body betrayed her, her words would always fight him. Without further warning he pushed inside, eliciting a gasp from her throat. Her eyes were bright and burning with lust, her mind and sense of fear abandoned, the only thing she could think about was how she wanted more of him. More heat, more hands, more touch, more friction. She spread her legs further, draping one over the side of the bath, opening herself perfectly to his touch.

"Look how much you want this," another finger joined the party, making her cry wildly. Her head was leant upon his shoulder and he took the opportunity the nuzzle on the flesh of her neck.

"You crave this Frances, your bravado does nothing to appease the fire that roars inside of you. You want to be devoured, to be dominated, to be ruled," another finger now, stretching her until she howled in pleasurable pain.

"And you shall be, in every way possible."

His fingers worked her with enthusiasm, his thumb over her clitoris, bringing her to the brink of arousal. It wasn't long before she came on his hand, her screams piercing the air, beads of sweat dripping from her forehead and pooling between her breasts. As her orgasm hit, he bit down upon her neck, hard enough to draw tiny flecks of blood to the surface.

"Interesting Frances, most interesting."