A/N: This chapter focuses, again, on Loki and Natasha, with a hefty amount of Possessive!Loki

The afternoon had passed on in a slow, dreamy haze, the sun having played peek-a-boo as they'd laid out on the beach for the better half of the day. Whenever it got too hot they took to the ocean, splashing and laughing without a care in the world, as if nothing else mattered between the pair of them. Lunch was a quick, easy affair, too, their food having kept chilled in the cooler that Natasha had packed for them earlier, and mixed with the wine it made for a very laid back few hours. How was it that life could be this simple, truly?

When they'd tired of the beach, Natasha's skin considerably warmer and a little more tanned (to her amazement) they'd packed up and called for Jean to pick them back up. Her phone read half past six, though the sun made it feel as though no time had passed at all since they'd gotten there, and as they waited on the side of the road she laid her head gently down on Loki's shoulder, her body relaxed right up against his. He leaned over to bury his nose in her hair, breathing deeply as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I was thinking we might go out dancing tonight, if that's something you'd be interested in?" he asked, not turning to look at her. Not needing to, he knew he had her full attention.

That sounded promising. Loud music, the familiarity of a crowd to lose herself in, and Loki's body pressed up against hers. "Yeah, I'd like that." And she had just the outfit, too. "I haven't been clubbing in a long time, so you can't laugh at me, alright?" She bumped her hip against his, lips twisted up in a half smile. It wasn't a complete lie. The party with Rhodey had hardly been a traditional club.

"Neither have I," he laughed. "So we're going to be the odd pair out, aren't we?"

She smiled at that. What a pair indeed.

Dinner was an informal affair, take out from one of Loki's boyhood haunts. The delivery driver seemed to even recognize him, which made Nat laugh quietly at how cliche it was all becoming. Though she supposed she could handle cliche so long as he didn't pop the question anytime soon. The way the vacation was going, how he kept looking at her? It might not have been so surprising, and that made her stomach knot. Still, she accepted the thai food with an easy smile, her hair piled atop her head. She'd shower once they'd finished and shimmy into her dress to keep it as much of a surprise as she could. He piled next to her on the couch, neither of them saying much as Natasha sidled up next to him, nestled underneath his arm. Every now and then he'd sneak a bite of her food and she'd nudge him with her elbow, or else distract him with a kiss to his neck so that she could stab a piece of his meal and devour it with a knowing grin before his head came back from the clouds.

"How do you do this?" he murmured quietly in one of the stretches of silence, having finished his food, Natasha close to being done as well. Now he had a couple fingers worth of scotch in a crystal glass that he was sipping at, pregaming before they went out. Might as well.

Her gaze turned to him, confusion bowing her brow. "What do you mean?"

"The whole . . . this feels so real. Not put upon. I anticipated some of this feeling, not forced per se but for there to be an underlying sense of inauthenticity." She watched as he swallowed thickly, weighing his words as she sat up a little straighter to look at him. "But with you it's-it's hard to remember that this isn't a relationship. So I guess, I'm just curious how you look at it and what you think about it."

It was a good question, something she'd never thought about before. It had never crossed her mind that anything that happened here was real. He hardly knew her, and a relationship was something where she felt she could divulge who she was, what she'd been through. It was probably because of that that she'd never really had one since she'd come to America, and even then the ones in Russia were little more than fleeting whispers between cold bodies to try and pass the time and make her feel a semblance of humanity. She pushed around the food at the bottom of her food container before slipping forward to rest it on the coffee table just in front of them.

So he felt like this was a real relationship? She wondered what he had for comparison. "I just think about what I'd like in a relationship. How I'd like to act, how to be comfortable around someone." It wasn't a lie. The warmth, the comfort that she did feel when they had quiet moments like this, that wasn't forced. And him staying with her through her brief nightmare-induced illness had been a surprising turn of events. She was sure he was thinking about that morning, about how she'd made breakfast and blew him and how they'd relaxed together at the beach. Throughout the whole thing, though, every move she made was calculated. She'd wanted to pay him back that morning for being so understanding with her, wanted to set the tone for the afternoon as playful so that she wouldn't have to worry about them fucking at the beach and getting sand everywhere (not something she ever wanted to cross off her done list). She snuggled up against him because she knew he craved the attention, especially from someone he saw as his brother never being able to help. The more that was revealed about her brother she wondered just how much his knowledge about her and Thor's friendship fueled Loki's desire for her.

Not that she could say anything about that all, of course.

"I want you to be comfortable as much as I am, and I guess I just get lost in the fantasy that this is more than a working relationship." She leaned up to kiss his cheek, the words simple enough and mired in just enough truth to keep him from detecting that there was more to it than that. It didn't matter that it was his fantasy, not hers, that she kept getting caught up in.

"So you fantasize about us being in a relationship, too?" he asked, his voice quiet and his eyes warm as he looked at her. His left hand found hers, locking their fingers together in a firm grip, and her heart fluttered in her throat. Oh, shit, was that the wrong thing to say?

"Loki, this is . . . complicated," she said with a heavy sigh, forcing herself to break eye contact. "Are you sure you really want to be talking about this before we go out tonight?"

She could feel the way he recoiled from her lack of an answer, from the question she was posing to him. The air crackled with the way that he kept his silence at her question. She looked back up at him, watching how he didn't meet her gaze, and instead tugged himself free once she wiggled her way out of his lap.

"I'm going to go shower," he said, voice curt, hands on the take out box and the silverware. He grabbed hers without asking whether or not she was done and she let him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Well, what had he wanted her to say? If he was going to act like a spoiled child every time he didn't get what he wanted, there wasn't much she could do without getting his hopes up about there being something more, could she? And to play that idea up was damn dangerous. But to say that she didn't see this as a relationship at all, that she saw this as only work? Put her in a shitty situation, given that she was reliant on him for just about everything while they were in France. If this had been a conversation in New York, things would've been different. She might not have felt the pressure to agree with him and start playing at this ridiculous fantasy of intimacy that she'd crafted. But here, in a country where she didn't speak the language, had no idea where she was, and would have to empty a chunk of her bank account to make it back home? That was hardly a fair position to put her in, and then expect to hear what he wanted to and call it the truth.

Her teeth clicked as her jaw tightened, and she stood up to go shower in one of the separate rooms, grabbing her clothes out of the spare bedroom and making one quick alteration to her original plan of what to wear. He wanted to play games with her, put her in between the proverbial devil and the deep blue sea? They'd fucking play games then.

The first time she'd met Thor she'd been on her tip toes, struggling to reach her coffee at the top of the shelf and really how fucking rude was it that even with fucking six inch stilettos and on the bottom rung of the shelving unit, she still couldn't reach the stupid Starbucks Sumatra blend shoved all the way at the fucking back of the topmost shelf. When she came down, arm aching from stretching so high, she had half a mind to kick the damn shelf, make it fall down so that she could step around the wrecked other products and just grab her coffee and be done with it. Had her shoes not been patent leather, and the nicest thing she owned by far, she might've.

"Need some help?" The voice was warm, bemused as all get out, and when she turned to see the man who'd asked her it completely fit the behemoth of a man in front of her. His shirt was the color of a stop sign, and his jeans clung to his hips like it was their job, though he wore it with all the grace of a king, and his smile was kind even though his eyes told her he'd seen her entire struggle.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her desire for decent coffee in the morning outshining her hatred of being looked down on and laughed at. "Please. Apparently, only tall people deserve Starbucks."

She meant the words to come out as a joke, though they had a bite to the very end of it that made him laugh. He stepped up to where she'd been just seconds ago, and by grabbing one of the taller packages, managed to scoot the last of the Sumatra to the very edge where he could snatch it with his waiting extra hand. Her hero. She smiled and thanked him when he stepped back over to her, his grin an easy, reassuring one that held little judgement now.

"I see why you were having a hard time, that fucker was back there."

"Right? I told you, it's a tall person privilege to have good coffee, but I wasn't about to spend my morning with Dunkin or Generic," she whispered the last word as though it were a curse. Once again he laughed, corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth as he introduced himself. Thor. It certainly fit him, she supposed, a good, hefty name that spoke of tradition. His grip was strong when he shook her hand, and she offered to at least buy him a coffee for saving her from having looked more of a fool than she had already.

It had been easy to talk to Thor, far easier than she thought it ought to have been, and though she might have teased him for ordering an Oprah Chai, he took everything she doled out in stride, even dishing her sass back at her when he could. She appreciated that, and after the two had exchanged numbers and promises to do it again, she watched him sidle off to the exit of the grocery store, the color of his shirt making it difficult to keep her eyes off of him.

Nat had come to learn it was something of a calling card for him, the color a representation of everything that he was: brash, bold, and warm. Irrefutably so. She'd be lying if she said she didn't appreciate how he wore his emotions and personality, literally, on his sleeve. It was never something she'd been able to do, but certainly she admired him for his strength and confidence, and wasn't red the surest color to embodied all of that?

Natasha thought that Loki might cancel their outing given his foul mood, but when she heard nothing except a tap on the door of the bathroom she'd relocated herself to, asking if she was about ready, she answered in the affirmative. "Five more minutes," she promised, having already let her hair out of the curlers she'd brought, letting it relax while she finished up her make up. Minimal: eyeliner, mascara, some gloss. Her face wasn't going to be the highlight of the evening, oh no. As she adjusted her dress, tugging them hemline just a half inch lower so that her cleavage was even greater than before, she couldn't help but smirk at her reflection. Brazen? Just a little. She slipped on a pair of Louboutin that she'd bought as a congratulatory gift to herself for having landed her contract with Loki. She was just glad she'd bothered to pack them, as well as this dress, as a sort of backup in case she ran out of things to wear. This was better, though. The toes started black before slowly fading into a bright red near the heel, and the high heels would at least help a little to keep her neck from cramping up too much when she stared up at him. The dress fit her like a glove, perfectly accentuating her ass and her bust, while the wide shoulder straps helped to keep from making her shoulders look too broad.

The firetruck red color, too, made her grin. She popped her lips once, the gloss not so sticky as to make her feel like she was wearing a lacquer, but it was enough to accentuate her full lips. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and put on her best shit-eating grin after spritzing a light perfume free after her last extensive trip to Victoria's Secret. She snagged her clutch before she left the room, the slim, black, patent leather accessory just large enough to hold her phone, some cash, and ID but little else. Her heels clicked on the expensive wooden flooring as she stepped out and where he'd be waiting at the main entrance of the mansion, her eyes seeking him out. His attention was diverted to Jean standing just beside him, but once he did catch sight of her-.

His breath visibly caught in his throat, pupils dilating even as he took in the bold color of her dress. His own outfit was rather dashing as well, though if not a little bland in comparison to her own. He'd picked a fitted, dark grey button up, the first button undone and his sleeves rolled up to show his long forearms. The tails were tucked into a pair of black dress slacks and black, polished leather shoes, not unlike those he wore the first time they'd met, and she was glad he'd forgone the vest and jacket this time around. She couldn't imagine it would be comfortable, and the last thing she'd want to deal with would be a cranky date because he was overheating.

"Natasha," he barely got out before she got to him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, her right hand resting on his shoulder. "You look spectacular." Still, she didn't miss the critical eye he turned on her dress. She stood up a little straighter because of it, her own gaze amused and goading. She was terrible for doing it, for provoking him when he was footing the bill, but dammit all if he was going to put her in an awkward position then she'd use it for all it was worth.

"Thank you, as do you. Shall we?" Her eyes flickered towards the door, where Jean had gone to stand, and without waiting for him to say anything she strode off, her ass swaying in a way she knew would force him to follow, even if he didn't want to. She seemed to have that effect on him.

True enough he followed, opening the door for her as Jean moved around to the front of the car. Natasha slid inside, shutting the door behind her and forcing Loki to get in on the other side, her smile telling him that she knew very well what game it was she was playing. And she intended on keeping it going. The hard set of his jaw, when he moved to the other side and got in, the door slamming shut with more force than strictly necessary, told her he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

What an interesting evening they were in for.

She leaned back in her seat, her breathing slow and unhurried, her face tipped to look out the window, before he reached over and grabbed her by the jaw, turning her head to his. "Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice was a growl of possession, frustration, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Quite. Aren't you?" she arched a brow, tongue flicking out across her bottom lip. The gloss tasted like vanilla, and his eyes fixating on her mouth told her he was looking for a taste, too. She tugged away before he could get one, her eyes hooded and smile wry.

"You're going to have to work much harder than that, Loki," she said. Some part of her hoped he'd play along, that he wouldn't pout like a spoiled child. It'd only make the game short lived, and frustrate her to high hell because of it. But no, the longer she stared, the greater the spark of intrigue and arousal grew in his eyes. Good. His tongue ran over his lips, wetting them before he smirked.

"You really enjoy playing with fire, don't you?"

"Only when I think I'm going to be burned."

The car pulled up to the curb of the club just in time, and she smirked as she opened her own door and slid out, the exit perfectly timed to leave him in her wake of her words. God, she really hoped this didn't backfire. She could already hear the pulsating of the club in front of them as they stepped to the entrance, the bouncer taking a look at them before letting them in without question. Loki dipped his head in thanks, thumbing through a wad of bills to pay the cover, while Natasha flashed the bouncer her most dazzling smile, sauntering past Loki and moving towards the bar. The club itself was already dark, the black lights of the dance floor just bright enough to illuminate the floor, though the bar was done up with blue light just beneath the edge, outlining the black wood. She wouldn't go overboard, but a drink in her hand and simmering in her veins would help embolden her. Too many and she'd overplay her hand, but just enough to help fill in whatever infinitesimal holes in her confidence that were there.

"Are you going to buy me a drink?" she asked, looking back at Loki.

He smirked. "Why would I do that? You want to be so independent, buy your own."

Oh please. She rarely ever bought her own drinks, and even if she didn't speak the language she didn't imagine France would be all that different from America. She winked. "Have it your way. Bye." Waggling her fingers, she headed towards the packed bar, managing to find an empty spot and waiting to catch the bartender's attention. As it turned out, she didn't need to. A man in a light blue cut off and a pair of grey shorts with a buzzcut sidled up to her, flexing as he did. He rattled something off in quick French that had Natasha laughing nervously.

"I'm so sorry, do you speak English?" she asked, allowing a blush to spread to her cheeks.

Cut-Off grinned. "You're American? I didn't know they made beauties like you in America."

Thanks. "Surprise," she laughed.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, words slurring together, and not just because English wasn't his primary language. She nodded, asking for a vodka neat, and she watched the bartender pick up the bottle of Grey Goose with a wink directed at her that her company didn't catch, the man having simply thrown a couple bills to the bartender when he'd named the price. Well, she appreciated that.

"So, what made you come to France? It's not spring break," Cut-Off said, flexing again to show off the tanned muscles that sprawled up his arms and thick neck. He looked freaking ridiculous, and her smile wasn't entirely genuine as she gave a slow, one shouldered shrug.

"Never had a vacation before, thought I'd see France. I like it so far."

"You picked the best country, of course you like it." He grinned when she got her drink, watching her take a sip. He opened his mouth to say something, but she simply walked away without bothering to wait to hear it. Whatever. She'd gotten her drink, she didn't need him. He slung what must've been a curse at her and Natasha let it bounce off her well-defined rear. He was an imbecile if he thought he had anything to offer her. She continued to sip at the drink, noticing that Loki had since disappeared. A slow chill crept down her spine, wondering if he'd just dumped her at the club. He wouldn't have, not being as possessive as he was, and so she endeavored to enjoy herself, taking her time sipping her vodka and watching the ever growing crowd on the dance floor. A high energy pop song, one she recognized as something Darcy had played on repeat one slow afternoon, filtered in with the previous song. The song had been an apt one to play at their establishment, the lead repeating that they were feeling herself. Apt, she supposed, given the way the evening was playing out. She started tapping her foot along with the beat in no time. Polishing off her drink in one swift swig, she deposited the glass on the empty table she'd sat down at and headed out onto the dance floor. She caught sight of Loki when she passed, watching some other girl who looked far too wasted to be standing grinding up on him, her skirt riding up way past her thighs. Natasha's eyes connected with Loki's in the brief second it took for her to pass him, an eyebrow rising in her amusement, before she turned away to make her way further into the crowd. So he was going to play, then.

She stopped only when she got close enough to the speakers to start mixing her heartbeat up with the pounding bass that made her bones shake and let her body take over from there. Her hips grinded to the beat, arms rising up above her head as she gyrated her body to the beat. It hardly took half a minute and she felt a warm body pressed up against her. This guy was cute, to be sure, his skin dark and gorgeous, brown eyes meeting hers as he grinned broadly down at her. She could feel his muscles on his arms as he moved both of his arms on her waist, his hips moving with hers to the quick beat of the song, and her breath caught in her throat to feel the heat and strength of him up so close against her. He leaned in to kiss her, and she turned her head to the side. Ohhh no. She wasn't that stupid as to think that would fly. His lips instead moved to her neck and she wasn't going to deny him that, her back arching when he found a spot on her throat to suck gently on.

She hadn't had near enough to drink to allow him to do that, whether she was working or not. "Don't leave a mark," she found herself calling back to him, not sure if he could even understand her, but he pulled away a second later. He hadn't sucked nearly hard enough to do anything, and instead they carried on dancing through the next couple songs. She could feel his cock through his dark skinny jeans, rubbing up against her as as she ground herself back against him, throwing her arms up and around his neck. His hands moved upwards, gravitating towards her breasts, but she took him by the hands and redirected him instead. She song had slowed down considerably, one she didn't recognize, and she threaded their fingers together as she moved his hands to her backside. She ran her palms up over her ass, before firmly planting his hands back on her hips. There, that was all he was getting. His laugh was soft in her ear, and he was whispering something in rapid French that was giving her goosebumps. Why was it she wasn't permanently moving here, again? Free drinks, and the nightlife was killer. Maybe she could retire early and move here instead.

Hah, hilarious.

She thought she felt eyes on her back and with ease she twisted in the man's grip, coming to face him and grind up against him. Her eyes scanned over his shoulder and found Loki's hard gaze zeroed in on her with enough intensity to tell her just what he thought about that. Her partner hardly noticed, his hands running up and down her back, stopping as soon as he hit the very top of her ass before his fingers gravitated upwards again. Loki's jaw set and Natasha would by lying to say that it wasn't a huge fucking turn on to have him watch as her hips moved with her partners, bucking up to meet his. Her new partner wasn't so tall that she had to crane to see him, and she ran her hands up through his short hair, amazed at how soft his black curls felt against her fingertips, running her nails down the base of his neck to make him shudder in her grip. He returned the favor, scratching his fingernails down her back and she let loose a soft moan that made his pupils dilate further as her pink lips parted wide.

Was that enough teasing for Loki, she wondered? As the song started to speed up again she broke away from the man. "Thank you so much," she said, hoping he understood, but she gestured to where she'd seen the bathroom. "I've gotta go. Thanks." She flashed him a smile and squeezed his shoulder before she started to make her way over to the bathroom. She didn't have to look behind her to know that Loki was following, and bit her bottom lip as excitement heated the blood in her veins. To her amazement there wasn't a line to the girl's room, so grateful to slip past the door with a lady's figure on the front. The stalls were mostly empty, but she didn't have to wait long until Loki stormed in after her and pushed her towards the larger stall. It was cleaner than she was expected, and he crowded her up against a wall, his lips finding hers and devouring her whole with a heat not unlike the sun. His hands roved her body.

"I hate this," he snarled against her lips when they broke for air.

She smirked, tasting him and her lip gloss on her tongue. "You love it, and you know it. You know I'm yours. You love watching these men fall over me, knowing they all want to touch me." She cupped her breasts, as though she was offering them up to Loki, before turning and pressing her ass up against his already hard cock, straining at the black of his trousers. He ground back, trying to put his hands on her. She grabbed him by the wrist and had him slammed up against the wall behind them in a matter of seconds, so quick that he looked a little star struck.

"You love watching me entice them, knowing I'm coming home with you." She licked a slow stripe up the side of his neck. "You love knowing that even though I'm wearing Thor's color, I'm yours, Loki. All fucking yours." She palmed his cock and he groaned low in his throat, trying to buck his hips into her touch. She pulled away, tugging herself just out of his reach, and smirked once again. "And I'm not near done teasing you just yet because you don't want me to be done yet. Do you?"

His eyes were lidded, his tongue thick and pulse jumping into his throat as he watched her grin curl dangerously. "No," he finally managed to squeeze out. She knew it, and with a flounce in her step she left him there in the stall, heading back out to the dancefloor.

She felt his eyes on her for the next couple hours. They interacted every so often, flitting back and forth with one another, flirting shamelessly as though they didn't know each other when they did. He ended up buying her another vodka after teasing her for not knowing French enough to order her own, and after she'd finished it pulled her out to the floor. She let him. She'd run him around more than enough already, and the heat curling in her belly at the possessive grip he had on her waist was doing awful things to her own sense of self-restraint. He had her pulled up tight against him, his cock pressed up against the cleft of her backside, and she couldn't stop but groan when he brought his hands to her hips and pulled her back against him hard, a pantomime of how she imagined he'd fuck her that night. Perfect.

"You come here often?" she asked, licking her lips as she looked back at him, carrying on the farce to see just how long he'd let her.

He cracked a laugh through his parted lips. "Now that I met you I just might," he promised, his hips a heated counterbeat to the pounding rhythm of the music filtering through the whole club. Nobody else mattered, just the pair of them, just his gaze locked on hers and his skin against her own.

"Really?" she couldn't help but laugh. Where was the silver-tongued man she was so used to being around, who could sweet talk a rock into falling in love with him?

"Certainly. There's something about you that's unapologetically magnetic." He leaned in to kiss the top of her head, breathing her in. She'd thrown her hair up into a ponytail, and felt his warm breath on her throat. She shuddered. There he was. "I don't think I could be parted from you even if I wanted to be. You are gorgeous, beyond compare, and you've bewitched me. You've got me completely in the palm of your hand." He caught her wrist and brought it up to his lips, kissing her wrist. She tried not to groan too loudly. Fuck. "And I want to show you just how good I can make you feel, since you've already got me on cloud nine."

She was nodding before she knew better, damning herself for not having worn panties. Between her thighs was slick with arousal, and she whimpered when he ran his teeth over her throat. "You'll be a good girl for me, won't you? I've proven myself, haven't I, now?"

"Yes, God-Loki yes."

He had her following him out half a minute later, Jean somehow already there with the car. Loki opened the door for her and Natasha, pliantly, slid inside. She'd done enough fighting to last her the rest of the evening, now it was time to enjoy what that'd brought about.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, I hope you're enjoying it!