Chapter Seventeen: Again
Fury made his way into the room where Natasha, Barton and Sam were stationed. They each sat at their computers displaying various degrees of boredom. Barton was actually asleep. Even Natasha, who was usually professional to a fault, was slouched back in her chair.
"Excuse me," he boomed, causing them all to look back at him. Natasha and Sam quickly fixed their postures while Barton struggled to keep his eyes open.
"Sorry, sir," Natasha apologized, "nothing's happened in a long while." After Graham and Eve had fallen asleep the night before, the three agents had switched places with an overnight surveillance team to get some rest. "Nothing all night and they're not even awake yet."
"Nothing from when they came home?" Fury glared at Barton who didn't seem to be fully awake.
"No, sir, just chatter. Nothing substantial," Sam answered.
"Well keep at it," Fury snapped, his eyes still glued to Barton. "Why is Barton dozing off?"
"Feel free to ask me directly," Barton responded sarcastically before yawning.
"I wasn't sure you were listening," Fury barked. "Let me know of any updates." Then, just as soon as he'd arrived, he was gone again."
Natasha turned to Barton, who was rubbing his eyes. "Why are you so tired?"
"I'm not, really. This is just crazy boring. I wish there was something action-packed I could be doing to help. What if this teeny tiny lead doesn't pan out? What if while we're listening to some average couple have sex-"
"They didn't have sex," Sam jumped in defensively.
"Not last night," Barton scoffed, "but they have. Right?"
Natasha smacked him on the arm. "I feel like the answer you gave me was widely disproportionate to the question I asked you."
"So you disagree?" Barton wondered, rubbing his arm where she'd struck him.
"I accept the possibility, but I trust my instincts. I don't believe in coincidences, you know that."
"That's fair," Barton remarked. "So, Sam, you didn't notice anything odd about Eve? I know not much happened, but…"
"It's difficult to say," Sam mused, "I know her very well, but I don't know what she's like during intimate situations like this. I just hope we can come to a conclusion soon."
"It would help if they would get the hell out of bed," Barton complained. "Don't they have jobs?"
"Eve doesn't," Sam informed him, "her building was demolished by the Chitauri. She blamed herself acting weird on it, which, I guess isn't totally unreasonable."
Natasha laughed. "Not at all. Since the invasion, I think we're all acting a little weird."
Elsewhere
Loki had been awake for hours, watching Eve sleep and thinking. He was restless, consumed by fantasies involving her. He'd given up diverting his thoughts. The more he regarded her, the more he wanted to touch her again, feel her writhe beneath his expert touch. After every underhanded, sadistic thing he'd said or done, she still couldn't keep her thoughts from straying to a naughty place-and that excited him to no end. It didn't surprise him that she found him completely irresistible. The surprise was in the fact that he wanted her just as badly. She was laying on her side facing him, so he reached out and placed a steady hand on her waist.
When her eyes flickered open slowly, she found him gazing at her, laying mere inches away. She felt his hand settle into the curve of her body and stay there. The look on his face was one of relaxed interest and impatience, as though he'd been waiting for her to wake up. Her dreams had been filled with all sorts of inappropriate encounters, all involving him. Her mind was still cloudy and warm, echoes of images wafting around her eyelids with each blink. As he held his powerful eye contact, she found herself inclined to slide into him, closing the gap between their bodies. His hand adjusted to the move by finding the small of her back and holding her closely.
"Good morning, darling," he spoke slowly, voice husky and low.
"Good morning," she responded in her own soft tone. She made no conscious effort to shake the dirty recollections of her dreams out of her brain. Instead, she clung to them, relishing in the woven fantasies she'd invented on her own. Then came a sharp pain in her stomach. Neither of them had eaten since the morning before. "I'm starving," she blurted as her hand came down to hold her stomach.
"Let's have breakfast," he suggested obviously before pulling away and getting up. When his hand left her back, he trailed it across her, touching her until he could no longer reach.
She followed him gladly to the kitchen. They traded off cooking while the other performed their morning routines. It was easy for Eve to decide not to do anything stupid while they were apart. Her mind was elsewhere and would be for some time. She made pancakes and bacon with a barely present smile on her face, lollygagging through daydreams. They ate across from each other, occasionally exchanging playful glances-though his often had a more devious air about them.
When they were finished, she gathered their plates and cups and immediately started washing them. Normally she wasn't so quick to clean up after herself, she'd adopted a more laid back policy regarding that sort of thing as she grew older. She chose to wash them straight away out of a nervousness, a lack of knowing what to do with her hands. She knew what she wanted to do with them, where she wished to put them. She had grown admittedly bolder since last night and praised herself internally for moving into him when she'd wanted to. Even so, she was tentative and terrified. There was that constant undertone taunting her: he's just putting on an act, none of this is real. She began to scrub feverishly at the thought, trying to shake it from her body. She stopped when she felt hands on her hips.
He turned her around to face him and she dropped the plate she'd been attacking. He moved her to the right of the sink and lifted her with ease, placing her on the counter. "I'm afraid I can't contain myself any longer," he confessed, hunger dripping from his every pore. She felt her lips trembling. She reached inside herself for something even slightly cool to say back to him, but he'd erased all the words she knew. To deny him would be a crime. So it was her that kissed him. Their lips collided with grace and pressure. His hands held fast to her waist, his fingers digging in and reflecting his passion. Her hands were wet but that aroused no trepidation in her, she placed them on his neck and pulled him in, locking them together.
Loki slid her forward, hands moving quickly to her hips and retreating back to her waist when their bodies were pressed against each other. Her legs spread when he did, making way for him. He felt drops of water trickle down his neck and it sent a shiver through him. He eliminated any space between them and bit her lower lip. She twitched into him and pulled back, startled. He'd applied more force than a playful nibble would require, and he watched as a crimson bead of blood grew on her lip. The faucet was still running, and in this time it was the only noise in the room.
The God of Mischief stretched his arm out and shut off the tap. The tension engulfed them both, each breath audible and slow. Before she could object, he lifted her chin up with his index finger's knuckle and swept his tongue across her wounded lip. Then he was back to kissing her intensely. When her tongue ventured past his lips, his mouth tasted like copper, and somehow it failed to bother her. He advanced into her space, forcing her to lean back. His hips drove into hers and she felt how hard he was against her. She moaned into his mouth at the contact. He pulled his lips away and kissed below her ear before whispering, "Again." He thrust into her a second time and she allowed herself to moan louder into his ear.
She became painfully aware that she was being listened to and fought to find a side of her that didn't mind. Maybe, somewhere in her psyche, was a girl who didn't care who heard. A girl who could throw caution to the wind and act impulsively, passionately and even a bit foolishly.
He noticed her pause and continued to tantalize her by massaging her thighs and kissing that tender spot on her neck she'd reacted to before. When she appeared to be struggling to stay in the moment, he backed away from her, shaking his head in frustration. He should have known better than to get so invested in this interaction, given that she'd rejected him the night before. He watched as she attempted to communicate sorrow through her eyes. He held back a sigh. He wanted to take her, keep pushing until she absolutely couldn't say no. He considered it, it would be too easy for him to seduce her. He knew her only unwillingness rested on those damned recording devices. There was a large part of him that hoped her beloved Sam was listening. That thought on its own made him want to ravage her out of spite. Even more so, the way she acted and reacted, the way she curled into him like she'd been dying to pleasing him all her life...he wanted her more fiercely with each line they crossed. He rubbed his eyes and accepted that it couldn't be that moment. He grabbed her by the wrist, agitation his mistress, and dragged her outside into the backyard. He pointed to the bugs on the window and retrieved her phone from his pocket before throwing it her way. She caught it, barely, and kept trying to apologize with her face. He gestured toward the phone, still shaking his head occasionally. She gave the cell her attention finally and he took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself.
The phone rang four times before Sam answered with a nervous, "Hey, Eve."
"Hey, super spy!" She shouted, not one drop of friendliness for his benefit. "You will never, ever guess what I just found while taking the trash out. Or...maybe you will."
"What...what did you…" Sam never was good at playing it cool. Maybe with SHIELD, but not with her.
"You get over here right now and remove them. All of them. Every last fucking one, got it? Now. You have twenty minutes to get here. Are you in the car yet?"
"Eve-"
"I swear to god, if you pretend not to know what I'm talking about again, I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind. Are you mentally prepared for that, bud?" Loki looked on, impressed by her performance. It helped that she was legitimately mad Sam had signed off on installing spy gear at her home.
"Yes, okay."
"Don't think I'm not gonna yell at you because you're being cooperative. You are getting one hell of an earful. Are you in the car yet?"
"Uh, I-"
"Get in your car," she barked before hanging up on him. The combination of sexual frustration and bona fide rage built a fire in her belly that spread all over. When Loki saw the zeal in her eyes crackling above her flame, he needed to take another deep breath. No matter how fast the agents arrived, it wouldn't be quick enough. He tried to ignore his lust for her and it proved immediately pointless. She handed her phone back to him, and even that simple action and the touch of their fingers turned him on. He made a conscious decision not to even look at her until everything was settled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her examining the devices attached to her window. She was up on her toes with her hands against the brick. It didn't take long for him to turn his head completely, unable to follow his own orders.
A/N:
Wellll now we're getting somewhere :D
Uh, is anyone as jazzed for Crimson Peak as I am?
