Author's Note:

The last scene in the chapter is an NSFW scene. Don't skip reading the end bits, because there is a conversation after that, beginning when Loki said "This is a dream".

Random weird note for this chapter: apparently, I find linear time to be boring.

'-

XXV Down the Rabbit Hole, Part 2 (Cause and Effect)

Loki is really bad at this gaining-and-keeping-trust thing. He also doesn't know as much as he thinks he does. Shit happens. Darcy gets the explanation she was looking for, though not as much as she wanted.

'-

The not-water Darcy was not-drowning in was difficult to breathe in.

No matter how light it felt on her skin, the liquid was heavy. Her chest felt as if they were trying to suck in molasses. It didn't seem to matter much that she swam casually, she could feel the beginnings of a strain on her chest muscles. She had to collect as much power in her diaphragm before every attempt to inhale if she didn't want to tire herself out, forcing herself to do it slowly. Fear that she tried so hard not to acknowledge began to escape from the box she had shut it in, terror rippling through her skin. Darcy closed her eyes, desperately trying to calm herself down, trying to convince herself that she'd be fine…

…something gentle brushed her forehead and then she stopped sinking.

She opened her eyes slowly to find herself suspended in the semi- transparent world of red. There was the strangest feeling of being cradled by immense hands and her chest hurt a little less.

But was it really hands? It might as well be the sun-warmed coils of a great Titanoboa, moving her up in great spirals. The softest susurrus of touches passing by her cheek could be the feathers of a bird lifting her in an updraft; the skitter of claws was the first among many clues that it is not quite avian either, not as most people would recognise nowadays. And of course, there is always the slippery skin of what might be an eel's tail passing just underneath her feet, though nothing was ever there when she looked.

The next thing she knew, she was buoyed up—tossed away like so much beach ball by the leviathan.

Darcy dropped out of the weird not-blood with a soft plopping sound and fell upin the direction of the ceiling of Loki's apartment. She would've crash landed too if Loki hadn't caught her and she coughed up more of the weird fluid on the same damned ceiling.

They were both standing upside down.

There was no time to wonder why she was in a beautiful and ornate dress, the same way she didn't think twice as to why Loki was wearing what seemed to be Asgardian formal wear either or why she wasn't even wet. Darcy scrambled away from him when she was more settled and pulled her arm back.

She decked him.

Darcy also punched him one more time in the solar plexus just because she didn't have her taser with her. It was with some satisfaction that she saw him stagger back. Tory would've reminded her not to get carried away by her temper, but all she was just thankful that her brother insisted she learn some self-defence and for teaching her the best moves he knew. Darcy fell to her knees— it was difficult to stay upright for long as she heaved more liquid out. Her stomach seemed intent to crawl up her throat, elbowing her lungs in the process and stepping on her liver with a vindictive kick. Her lungs felt like they were shoving back as rudely and was struggling to pass the same corridor.

Her eyes were watery. She would bet they were red and she looked like a banshee but she was past caring as she shouted at him (and possibly completing the similarity).

What the fuck, Trickster?!

She hadn't missed the flicker of distaste when she used that particular nickname—perversely, it made her feel slightly better. She was almost sure he could've avoided both hits but he didn't even raise a hand to defend himself as he cautiously approached her.

The upside down room really didn't improve her mood. She would have gone dizzy from the view if she wasn't already nauseous enough. She couldn't be gladder that Loki's living room was devoid of furniture.

You didn't have enough magic inside you. He said.

What?! What the heck does that mean?

Loki sighed and to take two steps back as she stood up, probably to avoid getting punched again. He had no right to look that tired—he wasn't the one who'd been drowning in questionable blood! Darcy avoided looking at the upside down skyline behind him (and how the sky looked like an bottomless abyss from this angle) before she had the urge to vomit again.

Would you let me explain or do you still need to hit me before you will even listen?

She hated that he could look so calm about it. Perhaps because it didn't matter that much to him and this was just business as usual. Weren't maidens used to be sacrificed to the gods? Maybe she was just one out of many he'd flung into deep waters in magical rituals.

You drowned me! You could've killed me!

His eyes were cold and controlled, but she could see that he was holding back annoyance all the same. She felt less insecure at the thought that she still affected him.

I didn't. The waters wouldn't have harmed you—it's a magical reservoir now, not any mundane fluid. I said much the same beforehand, didn't I? Oh, wait, you have just realised now that you've placed your trust in the wrong person? A little too late for regrets now, isn't it? He mocked.

It cut too close to the bone.

Darcy bristled at how close his guess was, but she didn't say the first thing impulsive thing she wanted to do. If there was anything Darcy was pretty good at, it was at never meeting anyone's expectations. She did what had always served her well instead; she observed. Soon enough, she noticed the taut lines of his shoulders and the grim air that hung around him. It made her feel a little better because her throat was still fucking sore from all the gagging and her chest wasn't much better.

If she was the sacrifice he'd intended, he really should look happier about it—or just shove her back in the moment she fell out of the weird waters. Or he could have held her head down, the more morbid side of her noted. There really was no reason for him to look so bleak about this. She rubbed her forehead and sighed, half of the anger escaping with her breath. Why did she always end up with the most difficult people for company? Oh, yeah, because she had the attention span of a wombat and they were the only ones interesting enough to hold her attention.

Yes, yes it's too late. She replied softly to his question. And I still return that trust to you for now.

It was clear that she surprised him, so much that he forgot whatever retort he had.

The brunette closed her still-stinging eyes. She wasn't sure if she could keep her voice even if she didn't concentrate on it right now, at least at the beginning. She can't afford to see him yet and she wouldn't pretend she didn't feel what she felt.

Darcy was never one for lies, not even to herself. She wasn't going to lie to him.

You can explain about it all, I'll listen properly this time. I promise. Darcy said, slowly. It didn't change the fact that I felt betrayed for a time there. You've managed to hurt me with that—congratulations, by the way! I don't let many people close enough to manage that most of the time.

She opened her eyes. Her smile was brittle and she didn't manage to keep the bitterness from her last sentence and sharpen her own pain into a weapon against him. Darcy was generally kind, but Sarah taught her how even kindness has its own cruelty when one knows how to look, and she couldn't help but use it now. Darcy used what she knew of how he avoided apologies to spear him with what little guilt he had. Perhaps she'll regret it later. For now, she relished the fact that it was his own unwillingness to lance his own wound that allowed it to fester, allowing her to wield it against him.

Loki was turned away from her, but she didn't miss the way his hand tightened against his forearm. She moved to be face to face with him once more and met his gaze without flinching. He was tense, more so than she was.

Her guess was right—he wasn't completely unaffected.

We're out of time here, he simply stated. We can't stay.

So the explanation will have to be done elsewhere, then, okay, Darcy finished for him. Her voice was colourless. It was kinda sad that she knew him well enough to know what he didn't say.

Loki paused and stared at her curiously while she took his hand without another thought to walk ahead—perhaps he still expected her to be angry or obstructive, but she could acknowledge his point even if she wasn't very pleased with him. If he said they didn't have enough time, then there was probably a good reason behind that; he was the magician here (she can be mature, y'know, she's just not often in the mood for it).

He didn't pull his hand away from hers and she could feel him holding her securely instead. Darcy avoided the lights on the floor (ceiling). It took some effort to not to think about how weird it was to have to step over the raised doorframe to get through doors. She had only begun to notice that her dress glimmered from certain angles (and she couldn't be happier that it was purple). Sometimes, she would swear parts of it floated as she walked, but it was mostly the train and she never saw it except at the corner of her eyes. She might still be imagining it but it wasn't something she'd bet on.

Alright, how do we get out of here? Darcy asked.

Find a door and think of a way back to your dream, he replied, his voice still too neutral in their uncomfortable truce.

They were in the hallways once more. She had to wrack her brain for several seconds to remember that she was on the ceiling so her room should be in the other direction, not the one she'd almost taken automatically. Right is left and left is right, she took a deep breath, oookay. She couldn't help but stare at the carpet above her head (ceiling).

Urgh, it's like a mirror universe in here, she complained.

It is not an inaccurate description, he conceded.

Do I have to open the damned door upside down?

This time, he was the one who pulled her by their joined hands. Loki casually stepped up sideways on the wall and Darcy glared at him. How is that even possible?!

We reached this place through the In-Between, remember? This is not the physical world—different rules apply. He reminded her, tugging her once more by the hand. Besides, you do have some magic now. Even if it's useless when you're awake, it should be easier here.

She took a deep breath. Right. Give me your other hand too. At the very least, I'm dragging you down with me if I fall.

Darcy thought she managed to glean a smile from him before it vanished once more, but he did give her his other hand and she gingerly stepped on the wall. She tried running up, but Loki caught her before she could try that. She was clinging to him with an embarrassing desperation as gravity made less sense.

You're panicking. It works even less if you did, he said.

Well you're clearly not making me panic less!

For the love of Yggdrasil—close your eyes and follow my lead. Open it once you feel better. She did, but she didn't let go her left arm from around his waist. He didn't even complain about how she was slowing him down while clinging like a limpet as she was half sure he had to half-drag, half-carry her over. She opened her eyes once she felt more secure. Her room was just before the corner to the elevator and yet it never seemed farther than when one was walking sideways on the wall. Loki unerringly led them back to the actual floor.

Darcy could kiss him just for that (though she didn't. She was still pissed off).

I'm glad that was over, she muttered—and promptly jinxed herself as someone running over the corner crashed into her. She stayed upright somehow though the pain of the impact jarred her to the bone. The poor man fell down with a pained groan, especially as his bag dropped on his leg. She would have been more sympathetic if she wasn't sure she was bruised in several places.

Watch where you're going, will you? She growled.

Sorry! He tried to stand up before wincing as he placed his weight on the wrong foot. A broken pair of glasses fell close to her and she picked that up. Sheesh, did you wear armour under all that, lady? I think I hurt all over.

Darcy rolled her eyes, offering him his spectacles. She would comment that she was barely that impressive to have toppled him, but then Loki placed a hand over her arm. All of her annoyance disappeared at his unreadable expression.

No one's supposed to be able to see us in a memory, Loki stated.

Look, I'll leave you folks to go to your fancy dress party, but could you at least tell me where the emergency on this floor is? The man gratefully accepted the offered glasses while Darcy stared at him with uncertainty. He looked vaguely familiar.

There is nothing more you could do. Whatever it is, it's done by now, Loki dismissed. He ignored the annoyed look the man sent him.

Maybe we're not in a memory? Darcy guessed. She ignored Loki's disbelieving snort and turned to the stranger. Hey, I know you. John, right? Crime scene technician?

The man looked confused and not a little wary.

You know, you were looking for apartment number eight earlier, Darcy said. She hadn't had time to say anything else or even ask why he didn't know her when he was so positive that he had before. Loki had linked her arm with his, gave the technician a mysterious grin, and proceeded to walk backwards into the door of Darcy's apartment. He pulled her with him.

John the technician gave a rather high-pitched yelp, looking as pale as if he'd seen a ghost and he scrambled back from them with wide eyes. Loki grinned halfway into the door and even Darcy had to admit that was creepy.

There is nothing you could do for me or the lady here. You understand that, right?

From John's perspective, she supposed they were kinda like ghosts.

Sinking into wood and out of it again was a lot more unpleasant than sinking into the weird not-blood. It felt thicker than tar and just as unwilling to let anything pass. She pitied all those dinosaurs that died in tar pits now if this was how it felt. Darcy was sure she had to jostle the bad-tempered material with her knees and elbows a bit to get out promptly into her apartment on the other side instead of being stuck like frozen Han Solo in the middle. Darcy held her breath just to be safe. Who knows what breathing in wood, even in a dream, would do?

Seriously, what the hell? Darcy asked.

Something's wrong, Loki's words were rapid now. The cool façade he wore was slipping and it made her feel even more uncertain. Darcy followed him as he paced in front of the coffee table. We can't be seen in a memory because we weren't here. It's already done. This doesn't make sense.

So you got us away, she said, slowly. So if you're freaking out, I think the best thing to do now is to skedaddle as fast as we can.

Darcy could hear the creak of her bathroom door—she'd recognise that sound anywhere. A strong feeling of déjà vu hit her. She stood right in front of Loki, both of her hands desperately on his shoulders.

Lope! Look at me. Don't even look behind me, okay? Just keep looking at me.

She could hear footsteps now, footsteps that slowed to a halt as the owner thought she was lost in memory.

Now please, please tell me that you can make both of us vanish from sight right now?

He was clearly curious but he didn't question her. I can. Now?

Now. Please.

Perhaps it was the desperation in her voice, but she could see his left hand moving in several lazy flicks and the feeling of a breeze blowing past her from her head to her toes and a shimmer of green. Loki was semi-transparent now.

I could still see you, she commented. He rolled his eyes.

It would be useless if you couldn't, wouldn't it? But no matter, we're both invisible now.

She relaxed and stepped away. She knew she had been blocking him from view before, and now they both can see the back of past-Darcy as she stepped out of the apartment. Darcy sympathised with the poor technician she had bumped into a lot more now.

Your past self had passed, Loki commented. And you panicked. Why?

Because I remember this! I saw us when I walked out of the bathroom, but it was a little blurry that I thought it was just my imagination. She was gripping him by the lapels now and he didn't object, only frowning even further. And I remembered meeting that poor technician when I walked out! No wonder he was freaking out when I first saw him—the first time he saw me, I walked through a door right in front of his face!

He eased her fingers away gently. She dropped her head against his chest feeling too confused and spent. As incomprehensible as Loki was, he was also the only certainty she had in this ever-shifting illusionary world and she did trust him, more than she trusted going at it alone.

I don't know how it happened, but we're in the past, she murmured.

Even before she finished her sentence, Loki had grabbed her hand and walked all the way to her bedroom door. He pulled it closed without walking through the doorway.

I am reminded once more that there is a strong reason most people avoided theurgy unless there are no other options. He said in a low voice. His rapid comment after that sounded like something aimed at himself and the words brought back the ice-cold fingers of fear over her heart. How did I forget that most genii locorum exists in at least four dimensions and usually more? Careless, utterly careless…

Panic entered her voice. Lope?

Think of your establishment, Loki ordered. Now. The sooner we leave, the better. Close your eyes. Imagine the interior, the people enjoying themselves with the music and the drinks whose ingredients everyone pretended they didn't know of. For all the raucous dance floor and your incomprehensible taste in the species you employ—

—the goblins are completely fine! Darcy defended. You were the one who taught them how to be bookies for chicken races!

He shrugged, as if that wasn't his fault, but his grip on her hand remained solid and comforting.

—the people who came there are content there. You keep the plodding fools that call themselves the law enforcement at bay. This is a little kingdom you've made for yourself and it is waiting for your return. There. Open your eyes and project that beyond the door. Ready?

She steeled herself and nodded. She wouldn't know until she tried, anyway. With her hand on the handle of the door, Darcy pushed and willed herself to be back at the Two Queens.

Darcy was never so glad to see the small walls and rickety floor of her hidden room at the end of the second floor hallway of her club.

'-

Darcy stopped questioning all the costume changes she went through by now. Like how she was wearing a shorter dark purple dress once she stepped through instead of the more regal Asgardian one. Loki was back in his suit of shadows and scarf. When the feathered serpent returned around her neck, it was even stranger to realise that she had missed the comfort of its solid weight around her. She dropped herself on the bed with a tiredness that was more mental than physical.

It pleased her when the critter hissed with distrust at Loki who had summoned the only chair in the room to a spot near the bed. He only rolled his eyes at the display.

Aww, you know who pissed me off just now, don't you? Clever, loyal Snakey. She crooned, scratching the creature. Loki gave her a disbelieving look.

You're not giving it such an undignified name, are you?

Why not? He's mine now, right? I could do what I want. You like the name, don't you, Snakey? Snakey's a perfectly nice widdle snakey name, she cooed in baby talk. Loki looked affronted. She was sure that he was prepared to go at length about it, at least until he saw that Darcy was clearly trying to hold back her laughter. He huffed.

Very droll, Litavindr.

Ha! You fell for it, didn't you, Mischief?

His expression was long-suffering, with a hint of disbelief at how childish she could be, but she swore she could see an almost-smile hiding somewhere in there. The creature around his neck was playfully trying to chase her own tail and in doing so rotated around him. Darcy laughed freely. His slighted look was back, at least until he realised the source of her laughter and he held the weaselly thing still.

I swear she doesn't have any dignity sometimes.

She shrugged. Dignity is overrated.

The silence stretched between them and it wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. Darcy kicked her shoes away and placed the serpent around one of the bed posts, ignoring its protests and efforts to slink back on to her. Stay. No, no, no, stay.

Then, she turned to Loki.

Sit with me, Darcy said.

This time, she was the one who offered her hand at him, her expression open and unguarded.

Please.

His steps faltered, astonishment was written clearly over his features. A myriad of emotions passed too quickly for her to discern, but she did caught the bittersweet one. She didn't like the one that finally settled on his face—it looked too much like goodbye. Darcy stood up instead before he could say anything, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to sit by her side. There was no way he could teleport anywhere without carrying her with him, so hopefully he wasn't thinking of any last-ditch plans to scram (she imagined Sarah would take a good look at him and mutter something about conflict avoidance behaviour).

He'd picked up his scarf and dropped it somewhere on the bed and eased an arm around her without thought.

Now, I know we're not done with the explanation yet, Darcy said.

One of these days, your trust will kill you. His voice held more promise than she'd like.

It's my own life to use as I want, Darcy answered casually. She didn't care if he was staring at her as if she was life's own mystery and his personal demon in one.

And you choose to throw it away right now? He asked.

She wanted to say that he wouldn't be here if he didn't have some measure of trust in her too, that he could've just run away and maybe never contact her again, never promise any explanations. Yet she couldn't say that—she didn't dare to now. She wasn't sure if he was even aware of the weight of what he was giving her.

Darcy closed her eyes with guilt. She was selfish when it comes to her friends; she knew this. The last time she pointed out that he actually cared for her, she'd short-circuited him. If it took her not saying inconvenient things right now to keep their friendship, she would.

I prefer the truth no matter how painful than living a peaceful life in blissful oblivion. You know that. One of these days, maybe you'll learn that you can't stop me from asking my questions and to just give answers. She said idly. Who knows? Maybe an old serpent can learn new tricks after all.

That got her a retaliating poke on her left side and she yelped before smacking his thigh. He knew that she was ticklish.

So, how about that accident where I gained magic, then? Darcy asked.

You've seen it yourself—I spilled more blood than was necessary and they were still highly potent with the spirit of the land's magic in them.

So you drowned me in it?

He was tickling her again and this time she paid back by 'accidentally' shoving her right elbow into his ribs. Unfortunately his other hand was faster and had caught it before any contact occurred.

You didn't drown. He replied testily. It's the only way I could think of on the spot to ensure a large part of the remaining magic left jumped into you. There is probably not much left in the puddles now.

Why would it need to do that?

He thought over it carefully and she waited.

Because you had the wrong amount. Too much to be easily ignored and absorbed and too little to stabilise. You'd end up leaking all over. It might even leak your life force along with it until you died. He was very matter-of-fact about it but Darcy couldn't suppress a shiver and she instinctively leaned into him. Loki simply pulled her tighter against himself. If you had more magic, it will have enough weight to pool together and stabilise.

Really? She asked, sceptical.

Imagine a small pond near the course of a large meandering river. It is there now and for a few years, but in the course of time it can easily be reabsorbed into the river as it changes course and disappears again—

—but rivers don't change course that quickly.

—not by your lifetime, maybe. He corrected. It was in moments like these that she realised how differently they see the world.

They change often enough for me. In the maps in the palace, especially of far-flung lands that are not visited, often it's not just the last known course of any river is drawn there. The rivers' past courses are usually also included. For better-known places, sometimes the predicted, possible courses in the future are also scribed in.

It is much the same with young cities, especially those of the various shorter-lived species. Within decades, they can die off easily or just as suddenly sprout two or three siblings in the vicinity. In any map, there are always notes stating how old any particular small city is—and how long one can be certain that it will definitely still be there, barring catastrophic mishaps. His voice was conversational as he described this.

Of course when the map is made in a hurry, sometimes they don't bother even writing smaller cities down.

Darcy's eyes widened. Seriously?

She didn't protest when he easily picked her up and placed her on his lap. He leaned back against the headboard, propped by pillows and tucked her head under his chin. His boots had disappeared from who-knows-when. Occasionally, she wondered whether she should complain that he had a habit of absently holding on to her like a child with a plush toy, but she was too comfortable inside his arms to care.

Let me tell it differently, then.

Imagine the well maintained gardens of a great lord, frequently open to his friends. You would remember that there is an open plain convenient for revelry by the river, or the hills with the perfect view. They would certainly be marked on the map of the palace. Say, you have a favourite bush, richly yielding in berries and convenient for shade and cover. It is a simple pleasure to sit and read beside it on summer days. Yet would you be surprised to find that it is gone when you haven't visited for more than five years?

She was reminded of the fact that there are probably empires out there that he'd seen come and go too. How many river courses had Loki seen change? Or cities rise and fall? She was quiet for some time while he continued to speak.

Now, imagine a lake near the same meandering river. The river can change its course over decades and even link with the lake. But the lake is large enough to not be easily overrun. The river in the neighbourhood will have a wider embankment than in others—the lake is still visible even as it became part of the river. In the future, as the river meanders once more and takes a different path, the mere may even be cut away from the river again and exist as a lake once more.

When it comes to magic, this is why it's much safer for you to have a large amount of it than something of the middling range—which, unlike small amounts, has enough power to easily poison as well as mend. Pour large enough amounts and it will be much more stable and less prone to lashing out or leaking. There will also be enough power gathered in one place that it will begin adapting your physical body to the presence. It will settle down to its new vessel as time goes by. Even if you'd never manage to use it in your lifetime, I can still draw it out from you if necessity requires it in dire circumstances.

Darcy was silent for several moments. That is, until she realised what he was saying. She elbowed him. Not hard, but enough to annoy. Loki hissed.

You're turning me into a magical thermos?!

The Asgardian turned the words carefully in his mind. When the meaning hit him, he laughed. She was glad that he was more relaxed, really, but could he not be laughing about her?

A magical drinking horn? If it will reduce the possibility of you being dead, why not? Life gets boring without interesting company.

She could feel the rumble of his chest behind her as she scrambled to turn around and have words with him. Unfortunately, Loki simply tightened his arms around her and she could barely move. Some part of her wanted to stop and just snuggle back because his embrace was comfortable, but Darcy was nothing if not stubborn.

Lope! Lemme go!

Not until you calm down, Ikhne.

She paused immediately, her curiosity overriding everything else as it found something to grab. What does that mean? And that other one, the Lita-thing?

Litavindr and Ichneumon. Nicknames. He said, simply. Her hair stirred at his breath. Darcy gently, very slowly, turned herself around. He didn't even try to hold her back, only mildly curious. She settled for opening the buttons of his shirt at her leisure as she straddled him. His fingers instinctively twitched against her thighs and her skirt rode up.

She licked a line up his chest and ended it with a bite to his collarbone. His hip jerked forward and Darcy had to clamp down a moan and reciprocate, at least until he forcibly stilled himself. All she felt was regret from the loss of friction as a pleasant buzz began to develop behind her ears. She lost track of the room, her focus narrowing down to the muscles she could subtly feel as her hands caressed his chest.

Still too much fabric, she murmured, to herself.

Litavindr—

I want answers, Lope. She whispered this to the skin of his neck. Darcy didn't miss the way he swallowed at that. What does Lita mean?

Little, he answered quickly as her teeth scraped his throat. He was holding her hip in a death grip now and she was almost certain it would leave marks. Instead of discomfited, she sighed and pressed herself closer at the implicit promise that it was. She could hear his voice turning lower as she did that. Because one should never forget for your ability to cause chaos no matter how small you are. You're a storm eyelet—

She bit his neck and the words disappeared into a growl. Loki rolled them over in one smooth movement and her blood sang with the feeling of his weight pressing on top of her. As he poured his frustration in a bruising kiss, she arched herself, pressing as much of herself against him as she could while the tension pulled her tighter than a bowstring. The tension snapped as his questing hand reached for her, slipping underneath her underwear into her slick heat. Her mouth formed a little oh, and for all the softness of his lips they were unrelenting in their hunger—but she couldn't fear it when it matched hers in intensity. His fingers curled inside her and she moaned into his mouth. He took her supplication with certainty and want. It was a jolt of bliss, a little piece of this delicate and yet unexpectedly resilient unnamed thing between them that was more than friendship but was not quite anything else, formless and yet ever-changing.

Darcy sank her nails into his back to encourage him to replace his finger with something else, but he seemed to have a liking for the taste of her desperation as he strung her along with enough to whet the appetite but not enough to satisfy. She keened in frustration—she could feel something rubbing against her thigh and the mere thought of taking him, the anticipation that was met with nothing and not quite enough was driving her nuts.

Lope, goddamit just move!

He chuckled, dark and teasing. I like you, he said with a bite to her jaw, just where you are right now.

Lope. Please, please, please, PLEASE. Want more. Need more.

I think you can do better than that.

She cursed him vehemently and he laughed again, light as the wind.

Loki knew just which way to play her nub to turn her into a puddle in his arms. Her kisses became more frantic, but she was nowhere near sloppy yet. Darcy drew her considerable skill to take his lips as if there were nothing sweeter that she knew, and sucked his tongue so thoroughly she might as well be fellating it. He groaned and the sound wreaking havoc with her mind. His eyes were dark, feverish and wild. There was nothing more beautiful for her to see than the hunger he was having trouble leashing.

With all the wanton please and more and let me have you, all of you, as well as all the ways she would like to have him, he could not have endured the onslaught of her sweet nothings and filthy promises much longer. Not when she pleaded with the full power of her dark eyes and lush lips, calling every endearment she could remember and making up more as she went along, and was he really going to leave her a hot and unsatisfied mess like this? Not when she'd been trying to rub against him just right.

It really was impossible for him to hold out against her for long. When he did finally take her, she was sure all the nerves on her skin flared at once, dizzying in their exultation. She gladly drowned in the sensations, moving with him as he made sure he penetrated her deeply and thoroughly. His teeth found her lips again, her neck, his bite should've been frightening but Darcy tossed her head back with pleasure instead and called out his name. It should've been scary to know that it would be so easy for him to take her life, but she only felt bliss and the simple joy that came with the realisation that he was exactly where she wanted him.

His movements were harder now, rougher as control escaped them, but she couldn't care less as she dragged him back into her overwhelming kisses again and again. Her nails scored lines everywhere, every time he hit the right spot to give her a gratifying buzz, or when she found the right places to suck under his jaw that would make his thrust stutter for a moment before he went at twice the speed.

They drew sensual delights from each other and took it with equal greed; but there was gratitude and generosity in the mutual taking and reciprocity, and that perversely it was not dissimilar to a mutual giving. She lost track of who came first, lost in the endless spiral of pleasure, and only noticed that they still enjoyed each other's company too much to part. He was inexplicably still hard inside her. He saw the question in her eyes and gave her the answer once they had their breathing in order. The other weird thing she noticed was how she was barely tired.

This is a dream, hjartað mín. If you are aware that the world is yours to change…

She tilted her head to the side as he nuzzled her neck. You mean we can change that? Like, biology? That's really convenient, she murmured, eyes drifting close. I'm really not complaining, mind you.

Very convenient, he replied. Though only in your personal dreams, mind you. His hands explored her with languid caresses. She did much the same with the planes of his chest and the muscle of his shoulders that she could feel under the bandages—he had pulled her hands away from it easily when she tried to change it, citing that one of the conveniences of knowing how to walk the In-Between was the awareness that he didn't have to feel his body's pains if he didn't want to.

Darcy was very aware that they were going to go for round two soon enough.

And why the avoidance of real names, Silvertongue?

His hair was tickling her shoulders and she caught a sharp intake of breath from him when she ran her nail over his nipple.

Names have far more power here than over there. He replied. To go into more detail is to discuss the basic principles of how the world works.

Magic? She asked. She ignored the amused smile on his face because he really was explaining. She could tolerate him being occasionally smug in return for getting answers.

Not merely magic, Litavindr. To the short-sighted, perhaps that is all it is. To those who know better, however, it is far more fundamental…

She sighed. She understood what he meant—it would probably take too long to begin.

So, what does Ichneumon mean?

Your scarf is soaked with your presence and the same magic. It has…changed. What it is now is a reflection of your potential, he had pulled away and was licking circles over her breasts and it was so tempting to simply sink her hands into his hair and not think. But she wanted answers and she was damned if she didn't try her best. She stroked his calf with her toes, feeding off his contented hum.

I suspect it's your first animal shift. Hypothetically, that is. Considering how long it will take to learn the art, there are no guarantees that you'd be able to do so within your available lifetime.

More like a spirit animal, then? Not really intimidating, is it, the weaselette? She muttered. There was a wry twist to his smirk that he didn't explain.

It is not a weasel, Litavindr; it is Ichneumon. Do remember that appearances can deceive, he answered. Yet beyond that, he said nothing more. She glared at him and pushed him over, exchanging their positions. He was looking much more interested than intimidated. Not that it was an inaccurate reaction as she was clearly intent on straddling him.

Well, let's see how far the 'not getting tired' thing actually lasts, shall we?

His answering grin was dark and unrepentant.

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Author's Note:

The Weird and Random Glossary:

Titanoboa: the name's actually pretty representative of the creature. An extinct genus of snake from the Paleocene epoch, it lives 60 – 58 million years ago (mya). The only specimen found is the largest, longest, heaviest snake ever discovered. Basically the king of snakes.

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