You retire from the ball before the rest of the palace's inhabitants, throwing your wrap on the bed, leaving it in a screwed colourful heap, no matter.
You reach the lip of the vanity, taking off the various jewels and baubles gifted to you by your husband to be. Heaving out a breath, you wonder where Loki could have gotten to. Naturally, he kept a fair distance from you all night, only catching each others eye where those of others were otherwise distracted. He had engaged you in polite, social conversation, asked of that by a Prince as such as he.
Thor, on the other hand, kept a tight grip on you for the evening and paraded you around like a proud hunter and you, his slain creature.
Lifting your head, you look around your humble quarters, both Thor's and Loki's were bigger than your own, but it never fazed you, you were marrying into royalty, whereas they were bound to it by blood.
You hadn't spent a great deal of time in your own bedchambers for some time, usually falling asleep in the arms of one Prince or the other.
Drawn to the window, an open, gaping thing, where you could observe the whole of Asgard if you so wished. Pretend to be the Guardian of the Bifrost, if it pleased you. You smile at the thought. Heimdall would know of yours and Loki's… meetings. The Watcher of all. Watches even that which bares him little interest.
It's a wonder why he hadn't told of your relationship. Though, you bore the Guardian no ill will and as long as you never did anything to outright endanger Asgard or her people. He would say nothing.
Or so you thought.
The latch on the door has your heart jumping into your mouth and the world spins for a split second.
His crown is gone. But he still looks magnificent, regal. Very much a Prince.
Loki crosses the room, comes up behind you as silent as a shadow. He looks at you like he might devour you like he owns time. Here in his little sanctuary where he can't be disturbed. Where you can't be wrenched from his grasp by offensive hands.
He presses himself to you like he'd been wanting you all night. Making up for lost time.
His lips are cold but pleasurable and you find yourself surrendering to them.
"Am I a good secret lover to you? Better than that worthless prince who pays you no mind, hmm?" He whispers alternating between kissing your neck and slightly biting your ears.
He really shouldn't ask questions you know he already has the answers to. "You already know you are," you croon, as he sneaks his fingers inside the front of your dress, kept up by the intricate fastenings your handmaid had helped you into. As well as your figure. "One thing I can't figure out is why would you be wearing such a dress tonight? Designed in a way to benefit the person behind you, rather than the object of your affections in front of you. Hmm?" He wasn't wrong. Floor length and wholesome at it was, black, yet iridescent in a certain light, filling it with splendid shades of golds and greens. The top of the dress boned and peppered with green glass beads, the back, open from coccyx to nape open and showing your slender, smooth bare back and neck.
Slipping his hands in the flimsy barely-there material. His firm hands find your breasts, sliding his fingers around your pert nipples. Momentarily finding yourself unable to answer, he may as well have wrapped those long fingers around your throat.
Gasping softly you twist your arm round to grab his arm, your fingernails creak into the thick leather. "Because I wasn't wearing it for him." You mutter back in a lower tone, fearing the walls could talk of your secrets. "Did you notice the colours?" You mutter.
"I did." You hear the smile in his voice. "You shouldn't, you know. Someone might notice." He says, a little stern, almost worried.
You clench and relax your jaw, it feeling open and empty somehow. Your back straightens and you reply, "I wanted you to notice."
He pauses, then says. "I always notice." Loki clears his throat, obviously not comfortable with prolonged honesty. "I should tear this thing off you, you know? Force you to walk back to your room naked, for all to see, ashamed."
Incredulous, you turn around and glare at him. "Oh. You won't do that..." You reply, chin raised. Every conversation was a battle and after every time had you wondering who was the victor.
His forehead creases slightly when he lifts his brow, defiant. "Why the Hel not?"
"One single fact, Liesmith. For tonight, I'm yours."
His eyes soften at your words.
"Also, has Thor ever seen me nude? Well, there was one time. The maid forgot to shut the door the one time when they dressed me...but that's not my point."
Beneficently, he breathes out a laugh. "Had Thor ever lain with me?" You ask and urge an answer with a slight incline of your head.
"No?" He says almost shyly.
"No." You take his hands in yours. "He hasn't."
Loki's lips part. And you know you have him right where you want him.
….
The candlelight reflects off his face making him look boyish. Innocent.
He snakes an arm around your waist, while you both sleep like you'd slink away if he wasn't touching you. Small victories, your mind decides for itself. Loki enjoys having you with him even if you barely spoke two words to one another other. Simply because if you were with him. With Thor, you were not.
"Can I ask you something?" You say.
He grunts in reply and you pinch his side.
Loki opens his eyes and looks at you. Even in the dim light, you can tell he's worried, uncertain. Your mouth refuses to work for a minute. Breathing and speaking becoming too much of an issue. You swallow. Hard. And begin to arrange the words before you, in your mind's eye. "Would you still want me if I wasn't Thor's?"
He takes a painfully long time to answer. The silence, deafening, suffocating. Horrible.
Strangers sleeping together. United by lies and trickery.
"Maybe not before. But now? Certainly. I wouldn't give you up so easily. Would a dying man pass on a goblet of water?" He asks.
Your brows furrow. Joining thoughts together currently on a tangent. "No?" You decide.
"No." He says, mocks your words from mere hours ago and then makes a noise of approval and you hear the bedsheets shift around him. "Now, stop worrying and go to sleep."
"Do you want me to stay the night?"
"Always."
Come midnight and you slink off to yours and Thor's bedroom for the remainder of the evening. It would be rude not to. And you had to keep up the facade of blushing Princess and bride to be for yours and Loki's sakes.
When you get there you find him, heavy plate armour and robes, and capes all gone. Only the man underneath. Wearing a pair of loose night garments kept up by his hips.
He greets you and you smile back at him. Conversation with Thor was easy, not a obstacle course, unlike that with some.
"You looked beautiful tonight." He says. Honest, good-natured and it brings a smile to your lips.
"Thank you, my lord." He wasn't wrong. Your handmaids had brushed and curled your hair into tumbling waves. Your dress, the finest velvet. It was the first time in a long while you'd felt beautiful.
His eyes stay on you a little too long to be anything but good-natured. "Are you wanting something?" You ask. Always brave. Never fearless.
A lion with a lion.
He kisses you.
His lips have always been soft. A contradiction to the rest of him. You reach to cup his cheek, beard bristling under your fingertips.
His long hair brushes against the soft swell of your breast.
It wasn't...horrible. Just different. So different.
Loki was lean and lithe. The child of a shadow and a knife.
Whereas Thor was not.
Thor's large hands grip your backside through your thin slip pulling you against his hard body and you find yourself leaning into him. Your hands find his neck, finding purchase in the thick muscle you find there. His skin is soft and warm, sun-kissed and healthy from all his adventures.
He cups your face in one large palm and tilts your head back to better kiss you. He's warm and wet as he trails kisses down your face and throat. Leaving a glistening trail behind.
He stumbles upon the sweet, tender bundle of nerves snug between your collarbone and throat.
You gasp sharply, and he chuckles against your skin. "Oh, Hel... Do that again." You groan out.
And to your horror, he starts to retreat. You tried to grab onto his arm but he dodges your hands and brings one of them to his mouth instead. "My lady, I find myself asking you to give me something. Something you can't give any other man afterwards."
There's only one thing he's talking about. And Loki already took it and then some.
You reach for him again and this time he lets you. "Consider it yours, my love."
You run your hands over him, over his hard pectorals, dipping stomach muscles and lower.
A slow smile creeps onto his face. "As long as your sure?"
You can't deny you love seeing him look at you like that. Waiting, wanting. "I am."
You toe off your shoes, simple, dainty things made of lace made for traversing the palace and her many rooms. You take his hands in yours as you lead him to the edge of the bed.
Sprawling and crimson and golden. He tightens his grip on your fingers before you can lower yourself down. He lifts you up like you weight nothing. And you squeal despite yourself. Would his parents hear you? Would Loki? Would he be jealous?
He kneels on the bed and pulls you down onto him. In his position you were almost nose to nose. Maybe that's why he did it.
His hands rise to your chest and start rubbing circles on your breasts, starting painfully close to your nipples then spiralling out.
You close your eyes, the sensation becoming too much and not enough all at once.
He peels the thin straps of your nightgown and returns his attention to your now bare breasts.
You hear him inhale sharply, ghosting his hands over you like you were a forbidden treasure he cannot touch. "May I be the first to say, you look perfect, ravishing. I am going to take my time with you."
He drags his thumbs down over your nipples, sensing them jerks once out of his hands and he groans at the sight.
You wonder as to who Thor usually sleeps with. Wenches from the tavern? Fine ladies and royals?
He states to knead your breasts, his knuckles whitening as he gnaws on your neck. One of his hands begins a descent down your body, stopping at the top of your thighs and stilling between them. Asking for permission. Freely, you give it.
You tell yourself it's diplomatic.
It's what Loki would want you to do.
Wouldn't it?