Chapter Ten

Dirty

Their approach was announced by the slight vibrations of the soil beneath his knees, the crackle of leaves against heavy-shod feet. Loki had long since ceased to observe those that entered his courtyard, preferring to train his gaze upon the ground. His days were mapped by the shadows that sprung forth from the stone benches. Sometimes he would even watch as the tiny flowers that dotted his lawn opened to the sun, only to close again as his own momentary freedom beckoned. Boredom no longer plagued him. He was well past it. Time passed in a blur of thought, occasionally broken by the chiding of a passer-by, quickly forgotten as his pale eyes focused on an insect scuttling through the grass or an odd-shaped leaf nestled upon the emerald carpet.

Those that intentionally visited him now were not his enemies, but rather those who enjoyed the opportunity to taunt someone above their station. Troublesome youths barely out of their first century would come in the latest depths of the afternoon. Loki understood this to be some kind of dare. They taunted him, assaulted him with projectiles of a less than pleasant nature, waiting until the sun set. As of yet, none of these brats had lasted until his bonds had broken.

But Loki did not care. While throttling a foul 120 year old would bring him momentary satisfaction, it would be fleeting. Everything was fleeting, or at least that which took place during the day. His nights remained vivid, all thanks to the pathetic, yet intriguing, little Midgardian that was currently making her way through his prison. The clip of her heels was always distinctive, her movements rarely accentuated by the rustle of a dress. Today she was joined by others, his brother among them.

"Is it sick that I am kinda turned on by this?"

The voice took him somewhat unaware. Unlike the polished tones of the Asgardians, the owner of this voice was lazy with every syllable. The elongation of the "a" revealed her origins to be somewhere within the North American continent, yet Loki had little clue as to where. His sewn lips ached as he attempted to warp them into a smile. Of course. How had he forgotten? This day, Thor's Midgardian whore and her little entourage had arrived. For the first time in weeks, he allowed his eyes to turn upwards.

The girl who spoke was still gaping at him, plump lips open in a little 'O'. She was utterly delectable, curvy like his Alexandra, with thick hair that cascaded over petite shoulders. This frame was hidden somewhat by the layers of ungainly Midgardian fabric, but nevertheless he found himself pondering what it would be like to have an addition to his and Alex's night-time forays. He assumed she was the girl called Darcy, who he had observed only momentarily through the eyes of the Destroyer during his first attack on Midgard.

Eric Selvig was easy enough to recognise: not just because of their acquaintance, but due to the look of pure hatred that twisted his pale face.

This left the tall, slim and undeniably beautiful Jane Foster. Like Darcy, he had only beheld Jane through the eyes of the Destroyer, yet even from his vantage point on the ground he could see her appeal. As though acknowledging his brother's gaze, Thor wrapped his arm tighter around Jane's shoulder. The wounds around Loki's mouth started to bleed as he attempted to widen his impossible smile.

Alexandra did not even look at him, leaning closer to the curvaceous brunette. "Wait till you get closer. The smell is enough to turn you off."

The pain dissipated as Loki's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. Bitch. Slut. Quim. The words may have been meant in jest, but Loki felt teeth of doubt gnawing at the remains of his once mighty ego. The chit was becoming insolent, incorrigibly so.

This was something he would not tolerate.

oOoOoOo

As the chains fell from his wrists that evening, Loki was well aware that his boiling fury was based on petty vanity. But Loki had always been a vain god. His clothing had ever been immaculate, his hair neatly trimmed. His brother may have been a hulk of blonde masculinity, but Loki knew his own high cheekbones, glinting eyes and smile drew more women to his bed than Thor could ever contemplate. Life in Asgard was notoriously shallow, and Loki knew how to play the shallow prince.

It was for this reason that he boycotted his chambers that evening, venturing straight into the wall-bound passageways. His hair was a mass of grease, his body glistening with sweat, smelling of filth. If she wanted him dirty, he would give her dirt.

The frivolities made themselves heard long before he came to the banquet hall. Music roared through the walls, the sounds of clanking cutlery, laughter and inane chatter emulated throughout the palace. As a boy, Loki had watched similar parties from the same location, green eyes trained on the tiny peephole in the wall. It was during these peepshows that he saw his first vestiges of debauchery. At these times he had bristled with excitement, barely able to wait for adulthood so he could join in.

Yet now, his own actions rendered him an outsider. He was a parasite within the walls; unwanted, smelling like one of the homeless men he had seen littering the streets of New York.

Compared to the parties he had observed as a boy, this one seemed almost innocent. The king and queen, his parents, were present. All were in their finest, sipping wine from golden goblets while others danced to the energetic tunes. The one known as Darcy Lewis lingered near the buffet table, her luscious figure draped in a pale blue gown of Asgardian silk. At her side was Alexandra, wearing a dress of sunrise yellow. Both were eating healthily of the food, while Volstagg boomed at them, rendering them both in fits of giggles. Loki wanted nothing more than to strangle the rotund warrior.

Patience was imperative to his plan, yet he found himself in possession of none. He could not reveal himself to those gathered within, though he realised most of them would not even see him. No, he would have to wait until she got close enough to the wall for him to grab her. The fact that she was wearing a dress made everything much easier. There would be little barrier between her and his hands.

oOoOoOo

"...but from what I have heard, our Thor made a fetching bride!" chortled Volstagg through his mouthful of venison. "Even with the beard!"

Alex and Darcy erupted into fits of giggles. Thor in a dress was a mental image hilarious enough even to bring a smile to Director Fury's face, were he here. It was a splendid party: brimming with honeyed wine, heavy mead, sweets, savouries and jaunty music. Alex had never experienced an Asgardian party like it. It was as though every noble family in the Realm Immortal had made an appearance, dying for a chance to meet the little Midgardian who had snatched away the heart of Thor. Many had not visited Earth for centuries, and stood, fascinated, as Eric, Darcy, Jane and Alex told them of their home world.

There was another reason Alex was thankful for the large number of people thrust within the hall. Trapped between gyrating, consuming bodies, she could escape from the probing eyes of Frigga. No doubt the queen was waiting for her to make a quick getaway, a silent escape to see her lover. Alex had absolutely no intention of doing so.

It occurred to her, shamefully late, that the arrival of Jane and her entourage gave her the perfect excuse to get away from Loki. He could not possibly take her if she was in the company of others, especially those who would see him.

Even as this thought crossed her mind, she realised it was utterly ridiculous.

As Darcy disappeared toward one of bathrooms that branched from the hall, Alex edged away from the action. In the heat of the hall, even the thin gown seemed stiflingly warm, no doubt made worse by the quantities of honeyed wine in her system.

Sighing, she leant against a shimmering golden wall. Against her back it was blissfully cold and strangely soft, as though the walls were made of mattresses. She leaned further, only to realise that it was no trick of her alcohol muddled mind. Before her footing could be regained, she was swallowed by the seemingly solid surface. Darkness engulfed her, trapped her. Only a light, yet familiar, chuckle alerted her to the fact she was not alone.

"My, my, little one. How delightful for you to stumble in on my little party."

Alex touched the wall through which she had fallen, the surface hard once more.

"Loki?"

"Obviously."

"This is not the place."

A hand grabbed the front of her dress, dragging her before him. "It is not up to you to decide whether or not this is the place, whore." Lips covered hers in an unforgiving assault before disappearing. Her body was turned; thrust face first into the opposing wall of what she could only assume was a tunnel. The golden surface was cold here, untouched by any form of light, natural or unnatural.

"Wait till you get closer," he jibed, hoisting the long skirt of her dress up around her waist. Her knickers were thrust down, his hand colliding with the plump flesh of her arse. He hit her! Fear trickled through the jolt of desire raging through her body.

"Loki..." her voice was pathetic, eliciting a cruel laugh from her attacker.

"The women in your filthy books seem to like this," – slap – "yet you seem unable to" – slap – "take your punishment" – slap – "like the mewling quim you are."

As much as she hated it, Alex felt her body responding to the slaps, the pooling heat at her groin. They were not hard, just humiliating, so damned humiliating.

"The smell is enough to turn you off." The venom in his voice was undeniable, and Alex whimpered as the head of his cock brushed against her slick entrance. Despite everything, she could not control her body's natural response, arching into him as he pushed in only a few inches.

The groan that left her mouth was sordid at best, turning to a little squeal of fear as he moved his cock out, brushing it now against her other entrance.

"No Loki, please don't."

"Does the idea of this disgust you as much as my smell?"

She shook her head pathetically, tendrils of hair falling from the neat bun Darcy had constructed earlier. "No, but I'm not... I don't..."

Loki grabbed her hair, running his tongue along the shell of her ear. "Trust me Alexandra, I will fuck you there soon enough." Slowly he moved his cock back down, thrusting into her slick, ready depths. "And you will enjoy it. Just as you enjoy having me take you now, in a dirty tunnel, smelling of piss and shit."

"You don't..." her voice trailed off. He didn't. He smelt unwashed, but... "I think you are overreacting."

His thrusts roughened at this point, dragging out of him a loud climax. Long fingers dipped between her thighs, quickly massaging her clit. She came within seconds, his now semi-soft length still within her.

Eventually he pulled out, turning her back to face him. Lips brushed against her ear. "You are mine, Alexandra. You would do well to treat me with respect."

A quick kiss was all she got as he left, storming through the tunnel, no doubt toward her chambers.

And then it hit her.

So this was what Frigga meant when she said that Alex had all the power.