Xidaer: What will Jane do when she discovers all (most) of the books in the library are unreadable- she's has to have Loki read them to her instead.

carollinali: Loki has to steal Jane away from Aesir scientists/magicians/you know what I mean?

Wherein Loki is satisfied and Jane is not. (Romance/Angst. R.)

"So these relics that 'pre-date the universe' — they're sort of the Asgardian myth of creation."

"Except they are true."

Jane Foster's look of disapproval, disapproval mixed with condescension, is something Loki would not have tolerated from anyone else in the nine realms. From her, it is… acceptable. "Every culture has its stories," she tells him. "I'm only interested in facts. The 'darkness' here is obviously a reference to the Big Bang."

"Or your 'Big Bang' is a reference to the Dark Elves."

"They can't— that's not— if there was nothing, then no one could have— Ugh!" Jane Foster flops back in her chair. The palace library echoes with her frustration. "Maybe you're reading it wrong."

All right, that is insulting. "Perhaps you would prefer to manage on your own?" Loki pushes the book in her direction. Illustrations swirl and dance along the pages. "Feel free, if you so doubt my translations."

She scowls at the runes — then, after a long moment, sighs. "I don't," she says, a tinge of apology in her voice. "Not really. It's not your fault what it says. Like when I showed you Genesis."

Loki remembers that. He'd laughed so long that even Jane, a hardcore atheist sharing her home with two gods, became offended.

"But I'd still like to read it myself," she continues. "Are you really really sure you can't use your… tricks—" she chokes on the word, because she has not figured out what else to call them yet, and cannot bring herself to speak magic "—to switch it to English?"

"No," Loki lies smoothly. "The tomes are locked from my talents."

With nothing more than a thought, he could change every book in the library to any language of any realm.

But then Jane Foster would not require his assistance.

"Shall I keep reading?" he says.

"Just a second." She taps her quill into the ink, frowning as she does. Her papers are illegible confusion. "Okay, go ahead."

Another hour of recitation. Dull, childish bedtime stories (and no, Loki does not believe a word of them, but it amuses him to let Jane Foster believe he does), but his consort dutifully makes notes all the same, drawing closer with each passing paragraph. By the time he completes the chapter she has all but climbed into his chair, unable to resist a direct examination of the pages.

He likes that.

"I don't understand how they move," she says. I don't understand are Loki's favorite words right now, because they are always followed by— "Explain it to me."

Months of frustration fade away as Loki pulls her off the edge of the chair and into his lap. All that time as a mortal he'd known what he'd had to offer this curious Midgardian, and all that time he'd had to make do with with so little. Now he can entice her at his leisure, dropping bits of knowledge like breadcrumbs, watching her eyes shine with admiration and awe as she devours each one and begs for more. As though no one in the universe could offer her more.

And no one can. So, in this world she's never seen, a world full of new delights and (for her) endless discoveries, he must make sure she does not forget that.

"It's magic," Loki says, slowly pulling up the hem of her dress. He desires her most when she's like this, asking questions, eager for his answers. "I've told you a thousand times."

"That's not enough."

Precisely. "It will have to suffice."

Jane Foster turns around in his lap, straddling his hips. Yes, this is what he wants—

—but her expression makes him pause. It is… disappointed. "You're holding out on me," she says. "And it isn't fair."

"I've not been—"

"Yes, you have. I'm not stupid, Loki." (He bites back a protest. He does not think her that. Ignorant, yes, but never stupid.) "All that time in New Mexico, I put everything I had into getting you back here. I used everything I knew. All to help you. And now you're—"

He puts his hands on her waist and jerks her closer. "You helped yourself," he snarls. "Don't pretend you had purely altruistic motives, Jane Foster. You wanted the Rainbow Bridge open for your own ends. It was only chance that our desires—" he pulls her down, grinds her against him, and she makes a soft noise "—happened to coincide."

She flushes. It is for more than one reason. "All right." Her tone is grudging, but her fingers find their way into his hair. Loki leans into her touch. "I wanted to see the universe. But you could still tell me what you know. Why don't you?"

Because when she marvels at his knowledge, he is more satisfied than he has ever been.

But Loki cannot tell her that.

She already holds too much power over him.

"It would take millennia for you to comprehend a tenth of what I know," he says, settling on a half-truth as his lips find her pulse. Each heartbeat brings her closer to her mortal demise. He did not feel that on Midgard as he does now. Another dilemma to resolve. And quickly.

Jane Foster is reaching for the ties of his pants. "Then you better get started," she murmurs. "Or I'll have to go figure it out on my own."

No. "There's no need for that." His breath hitches at her teasing strokes; she has learned too much about what he likes. He should have guarded himself better on Earth. He should not have let her see so much of him. He was cast out, and powerless, and frightened, but still, he should have known better. "We will go out into the city. The observatory. What's left of the bridge. If this is insufficient, I can give you more."

He can still keep more from being enough. He is Loki of Asgard. Such manipulation is hardly beyond him.

Jane Foster's mouth meets his, and their argument ends. In a few minutes, there is a whole new sort of awe in her eyes.

Loki closes his own.

It would not do for her admiration to be reflected in his.