Loki blinked, momentarily surprised that Natasha had called his bluff. He sighed, exasperated, and did as she had instructed—or rather ordered, he seethed—him to do. She came to the bed, and tied each of his limbs securely with the black ropes, checking her knots carefully.
He rolled his eyes. "This is pointless. I could always just make the ropes disappear."
"You won't," she said confidently.
He frowned at her. "Who are you to say what I will and will not do?"
She shrugged, tugging at the last of the ropes. "I say it because if you do, it will invalidate our agreement and we shall have to start over."
"Your argument assumes you will survive," he threatened.
"Oh, you won't kill me," she said in a careless tone, walking away from the bed and out of his range of vision.
"Again, you presume..." he growled.
"No," her calm voice carried from across the room, he resisted the urge to struggle against his bonds to see what she was doing. "I make you too curious. You would get bored without me here. They aren't likely to send another sacrifice any time soon, you know."
He gritted his teeth. "That man might come back looking for you," he suggested. "He's not my usual fare, but I might enjoy breaking his mind," he sneered.
Natasha's hands stilled in their task, and she was glad he couldn't see how much his words had affected her. She was struck with the realization that he had said it out of fear—he was afraid, and he wanted her to be more so. She picked up the pot of honey and smoothed a smile over her worried expression. "Clint? I'm afraid he wouldn't amuse you for very long."
He chuckled as he felt the mattress shift as she sat beside him. "You haven't much faith in your lover," he scolded.
"He's not my lover," she corrected with a small scowl.
"Oh, does he not love you?" he continued to tease.
She found it odd that he had not asked if she loved Clint instead. "He hardly knows me," she reasoned.
"I hardly know you," he shot back.
Her eyes widened slightly at his near-admission of affection for her. "Yes, but you're different. Or rather, you and I are the same, and he is different from us."
He tilted his head to the side. "Different how?"
She sighed heavily. "He's so... good." The last word was given a tone that a less serious girl would have given to short or ugly, or worse yet, poor.
After a moment of blinking hesitation, Loki began to chuckle, delighted. Irritated by his amusement, Natasha turned her attention to the task at hand. She twisted the dipper in the honey, trying to catch as much as possible.
"What is that?" he asked, all traces of humor gone from his voice. He almost sounded... scared.
"Honey," she answered, lifting the dipper so he could see. "You should know, you put it there."
He frowned, not relieved in the least. "Why did you bring it over here?" he said, suspicious.
In response, Natasha moved the dipper so that the honey dripping from it drizzled onto his chest. He flinched when it touched his skin, and he tried to move out from under it, unsuccessfully.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, clearly unsettled by her actions.
"You'll see," she teased, dunking the dipper and then lifting it to spread more golden rivulets over his stomach, and lower...
Loki let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling, his breath rapid and shallow. The ropes securing his wrists creaked as he pulled against them experimentally.
"Why does this unsettle you so?" she paused in her work to ask him.
For a moment, he did not answer. "It reminds me of... unpleasant things," he admitted quietly, not meeting her gaze.
She looked down at his odd scars, thinking. She had not been able to guess their origin, but now she thought that if something had dripped on him, like acid or molten silver... she paled. "I'm sorry, I never thought-"
"Don't," he interrupted. "Don't pity me." His voice was a harsh whisper.
She swallowed. "Alright," she agreed awkwardly.
He glanced down at himself and sighed. "What were you planning on doing with that, anyway?"
She smiled a little, set the honeypot on the bedside table, and then leaned over him to lick up some of the honey in one long swipe. He groaned, his back arching up towards her. She looked up to try to gauge his reaction.
"Oh, don't stop," he gasped.
Natasha grinned, and moved to straddle him before continuing to kiss and lick the sweet, sticky stuff off his skin. His breathing continued to be uneven, but now it was punctuated with his soft gasps and moans. She felt a rush of power at her ability to undo him with something so simple. Her pulse began to race as she drifted lower, wondering how he would react...
The moment her fingers closed around him, his head snapped up, and he stared at her wide-eyed. "What are you doing?" he asked, despite the obvious answer to his question.
She licked her lips, mere inches away from her goal. "Hasn't anyone ever done this to you?" she asked before flicking the tip of him teasingly with her tongue.
His hips jerked upwards sharply in response, and she giggled. "I wouldn't phrase it that way, no," he ground out, his eyes daring her to be shocked.
She caught his meaning easily—he had made others do it, but not willingly—and shrugged. "That's not the same thing at all," she reasoned. "Besides,I doubt any of them possessed half the skill I do," and before he could say anything further, she drew her tongue up the length of him, swiping up the honey there.
Loki cursed and threw his head back into the pillow. He gripped the ropes that secured his wrists tightly, and felt his toes curl at the sensation. She was right, damn her, he'd never felt anything like her talented ministrations. The complex interaction of fingers, lips, tongue and teeth nearly drove him out of his mind, and all he could do was arch his back, pressing up towards her and demanding more.
Natasha, meanwhile, was having more than a little fun. She usually dreaded this task, but with Loki it seemed less odious—it didn't hurt that he was attractive and well groomed. He was far more responsive than most men, and while his impressive size made some of her tricks more difficult to accomplish, she found herself rising to the challenge. His skin was so soft and pale, and the taste of him mixed with the honey was intoxicating. She could sense he was drawing close, though, and she wasn't done with him yet. She backed off her efforts, teasing him mercilessly.
The bed creaked a little as he pulled on his tethers again. "The things I would do to you, woman," he said in a strangled voice.
Her stomach fluttered at the threat—or promise—in his voice. "Oh?" she answered mockingly.
"I would show you how to use that pretty little mouth of yours, and when I had finished with you there I should find other places to entertain myself," he growled threateningly.
She just smiled and sat up, moving forward until her warm center, slick with her excitement, was pressed against his almost painfully erect member. "Like this?" she asked, moving her hips so she slid against him.
Loki cursed fluently in a language she did not understand. "No, you minx! You know what I mean." His threat was undermined by a hitch in his voice as she ground against him harder. "By all the gods, you enjoyed that, didn't you?" he asked, realizing just how wet she was.
She just smiled like the cat in the cream and continued her maddening dance.
His eyes narrowed. "Harlot," he chided, but his voice was soft with affection.
She laughed at how well the name fit. "Your harlot," she amended, and then suddenly moved to take him inside her, pushing down in one swift movement until their bodies touched again.
The metal of the bed frame creaked loudly as Loki's whole body arched into her, and she cried out a little in surprise. Once he had recovered from the shock, he grinned at her. "That is more like it." He emphasized his point with a sharp thrust of his hips, and she gasped a little. "Sore?" he asked teasingly.
Natasha gritted her teeth and began to move against him. "Nothing I can't handle," she assured him, and bit her lip at the sensation. It didn't so much hurt as it made everything more intense, and she was more than happy to take it slow in compensation.
Loki, however, was not content with her agonizing pace. He tried to move beneath her, but she just rode his thrusts like a wave, her hands splayed out across his stomach. He watched her, mesmerized, as she did as she liked, and he was helpless to do anything but enjoy it. "Natasha," he breathed, a new tactic coming to his passion-riddled mind.
"Mm?" she had gotten lost in what she was doing for a moment.
He licked his lips. "Natasha, darling, let me touch you..." he crooned.
She snapped out of her trance-like state and grinned. "Like this?" she asked, running her hands up her body to cup and squeeze her breasts.
"Yes," he whispered desperately.
"Or..." she paused, giving him a look of pure mischief, "like this?" one hand trailed down her front, lower, until it was almost between them. She found her most sensitive spot, and with her own fingers began to stroke it rhythmically.
Loki's mouth went dry. How quickly she had learned his tastes, and how marvelously had his plan backfired. "Yes, Natasha, please," he begged, beyond caring.
She bit her lip as if considering his offer, but then smiled darkly. She leaned forward, her russet curls and the tender skin of her breasts brushing against his chest. She kissed a line up his jaw to his ear, and nibbled on the lobe a moment before whispering "No."
He growled at her, trying to catch her lips with his own, but she darted back out of his reach. Since he was powerless to pursue her, she went back to riding him, her own hands running over her body and exploring all the sensitive places Loki had so recently revealed to her. He lay there, helpless, watching, and was forced to admit it was quite possibly the most erotic thing he had seen in his many long years.
Armed with her new knowledge of her body, it did not take Natasha long to send herself spiraling up to her climax, and the sounds she made alone were enough to bring Loki very close to his as well. She leaned forward, holding on to him, and each tilt of his hips made her skin drag against his deliciously. She murmured soft, dirty things in his ear, and he felt his control rapidly slipping. his pace became frantic, erratic, and she held onto him tightly. The bed frame made an awful groaning sound as he pulled tightly on the ropes, making Natasha gasp. He looked down to see the flash of fear in her eyes, and it was the spark to his powder keg.
Lights flashed behind Loki's eyes, and he closed them tightly. He felt as if he were coming apart at the seams-like he would explode at any moment. He began to feel a rising sense of panic, until Natasha murmured "Let it go," so softly and sweetly that it distracted him. It was enough to allow his undoing; he cried out and arched his back so hard he lifted them both off the bed. He could hear Natasha's desperate plea only distantly, as through water. And still it went on, until he thought it might drain him of life.
At last he collapsed, gasping for air. Natasha still clung to his body, shuddering. He looked to her, but could only see her fiery hair, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Gods, how he wanted to touch her.
"Natasha?" he asked cautiously, "are you well?"
His concern for her was perhaps the last thing she had expected to ever hear. She sat up a little so she could look him in the eye. He chuckled at the surprise written clearly in her expression. She swallowed, and licked her lips, assessing herself.
"I'm alright..." she said hesitantly. She moved away from him, gasping a little at the sensation.
He raised a doubting eyebrow.
She shrugged. "Now I'm sore," she explained.
A wicked smile spread across his face. "Are you, then? Well let me out of these infernal ropes and I shall do something about that," he offered, tugging impatiently at his bindings.
She laughed softly, and moved to untie him, but found that he had pulled the ropes so tightly that the knots were locked solid. "I'm afraid you're going to have to get yourself out," she said sheepishly.
He rolled his eyes and the ropes vanished. She had only a moment to notice the red marks on his wrists before he grabbed hold of her. One arm snaked around her waist, locking her in place against his body. The other hand was buried in her hair, tightly gripped so he could crush his lips against hers in a vicious, hungry kiss. She did her best to reciprocate, biting his lip and moaning. When he at last had his fill, he pulled back to press his forehead against hers.
"We are never doing that again," he said in a shaky voice.
She just grinned. "You're welcome."
A/N: I apologize for the very looooong break between posts. These two chapters, which started as one, were an absolute nightmare to write. Much of it had to be from Loki's perspective (which I'm always unsure when describing sex from a guy's perspective, naturally) and the Natasha of this story isn't terribly self-possessed, so it made for a difficult, uphill battle. I made the mistake early on of writing ahead, figuring then I'd be inspired to fill in the gaps. Nope. But hey, I haven't abandoned this story. Hopefully it won't be too long before the next post—make sure to stay tuned. Meanwhile, my other story Anima Complex updates every Wednesday and Saturday, so if you get bored, you can read that.
As always, I adore all the wonderful reviews. I'm really unsure about parts of these two chapters, so I would really appreciate your input—constructive criticism is always welcome!