(SIGYN)
However long he held me, it still wasn't enough for either of us. His kiss was deep, yearning, and too intimate for the audience surrounding us, but I didn't stop him. What if something else took him away, and this was our last chance?
Loki clutched my face in both hands before taking his lips away, breathing on me in the aftershock. "I've missed that," he whispered.
"As have I." My belly was aflutter with excitement and nerves for all the things I had to say. But what first?
Without letting me step away from his side at all, he cleared his throat and addressed the people. "Thank you, great Vanir, for your kindness and service. You have restored us both."
Loud cheers and snapping spells rained light in all directions. I laughed with the bubbling elation of my swelling heart, grateful that his touch felt possessive. His. No one else's.
He placed a hand over his heart and continued with a slow, hypnotic and careful spell of words when the celebration relaxed, as if reciting a poem. "My gratitude is only matched by my humility. I shall ask for a blessing from my mother, Frigga, to produce a bounty at this harvest for all manner of rebirth, change, and unity."
"Aye," Freyr yelled behind him, raising his horn of ale. "To Loki and Sigyn. Skál!"
Loki smiled with closed lips and met my gaze again. He was undeniably self-satisfied with the growing allegiance surrounding us.
I whispered, "Humble? You?"
He laughed—oh, his glorious laugh—sending vibrations through my whole body and back again. It couldn't frighten me as it used to; instead, it enthralled me. I needed more. Yet he couldn't have been awake for very long, and I worried he would exhaust himself without thinking.
"Now, truly," I said, stroking his cheek, "what are you feeling? Do you need tending in any way?"
"Are you always so worried about my welfare?"
"Of course. Didn't you hear what Odin labeled me before he left us both to die?"
He shrugged, turning his face to the side with genuine curiosity.
"You're looking at the Goddess of Fidelity." I sighed against him, still twirling a bit of his curled hair between my fingers. "Fits me well, don't you think?"
"Quite." Loki leaned into my hand and his eyes softened. He appeared lost with an inner thought, but wobbled in his stance, so much I felt forced to hold his shoulders still.
"Steady, now—"
"I am a bit weak, aren't I?" His breath quickened enough to send a rush of worry through me. "May I sit?"
"Come. You've had enough excitement for your condition." I took his left hand firmly and nodded at Grid, who raised her brow.
Her expression said many things. Judgment, mostly, for something she predicted. While I protested a week ago that I wouldn't be too frightened to tell Loki about my status, Grid believed otherwise, and his faintness only gave me another reason to delay. The old witch was right, to my chagrin, but how could I argue my position now?
I couldn't allow her influence to force my hand. When he's ready, I'll tell him. One more night won't mean a thing.
Loki followed me to my meager tent, which was so close to the bonfire, people surrounded us on all sides. Privacy was impossible. We sat on the small cot together, though with him next to me, everything shrank. There wasn't enough room for both of us to rest, and I couldn't very well ask him to sleep on the ground. Even without The Don River's magic, I predicted an uncomfortable night and grief in my back the next day.
He played with my right hand, barely pushing his thigh against mine, as if he were anxious about spending time alone. It reminded me of youthful days when I first learned to touch another, and vice versa. The din of conversation and celebration outside faded away as I listened to his breath. His scent, fresh and sweet like always, washed over me in waves. The Vanir soap couldn't hide it.
He broke the quiet between us softly, staring at our fingers as he did. "I waited for you. Why did you not come again?"
I knew it. Should've tried harder. Every regret and lost minute of sleep replayed in my mind. "I made many attempts. I really did. But I haven't been feeling well of late, and Freyr helped me that first time. Please forgive me."
He nodded, still focused below. "Time wasn't accelerated as Björn assured me. I was painfully aware of every second."
More guilt shot through me. "Gods...how awful. The thought of you alone like that—"
"Yes, well, I'm quite familiar with being alone, aren't I?" His hand ran cold against mine.
"You aren't alone anymore." I shifted to look over him more, though the tent was dark and hid the details of his face. "Never again. That's not an empty promise from me. Simply a fact."
We stared at one another like it was the first time we met in Frigga's chambers. So different from the mood of that night—I wasn't at risk, wasn't begging for mercy, and he wasn't in control—yet it was the same circumstance. He was alive, and I was relieved. Our lives were bound forever.
"I...I don't know what to do now," he said, inching closer to me with each whisper that swept me away from the plainness of the tent. "I hunger for you."
My heart jumped again, like it always did whenever he casually mentioned such desire. "Do you not remember how it works?"
He chuckled, rubbing his nose against mine on one side, then the other. "It's not that. I've never quite done this before."
"How's that?"
Loki tickled my lips with his, but didn't press in, and he backed away when I tried to advance. He was in control.
I no longer cared what he meant by his riddle and desperately itched for his hands on my waist. His legs between mine. His arms around me. For time to explore each other without the pressure of illusions and kingdoms and duties to fulfill. Perhaps the only sustenance he needed was in front of him. I would yield to fulfill both of us.
His fingers found the small tie at my side. He tugged, bit by bit, until the bow unraveled. The front of my tunic fell open, held together only by my pert chest, which seemed to have finally stopped expanding. If he noticed, he didn't speak of it.
He stopped touching me to spread the two blankets from the cot onto the ground below, then removed his own tunic. Like a ritual, he flattened that as well to add cushion to his creation. Loki's green eyes flashed at me. "Down."
I dropped to my knees before him, thankful not to have hard dirt against my bare skin. Not like I expected, he followed me, refusing the advance I signaled by stroking up his thighs.
"Do you not—"
He kept me quiet with his signature forefinger over my lips. "Let me enjoy this."
Facing each other, both kneeling together, Loki reached forward to the front of my open tunic and teased pulling it apart further. He dragged his right pinky from the base of my neck to my navel three times, sending goosebumps from the top of my head to my toes. I shivered involuntarily. My quickening breath was impossible to ignore, as were the many times I swallowed hard to keep from interrupting him with words.
More. Please, more.
By his fourth pass down my body, he paused and moved up instead, using his thumbs to trace my brows, cheekbones, and chin. He investigated me as if searching for something.
As he did, I took advantage of the view, too. Loki was healed to where he'd been before the Orm, save for his hair. The scar on his shoulder from the Chitauri attack nearly faded to nothing; had I not known where it was, I might not have noticed it. His high cheekbones and slender physique accentuated how unlike the Vanir he was—they all tended to be short and somewhat round all over. His lack of a beard fascinated me, and I stared as closely as I could in the low light for a shadow that would tell me he had shaved, yet there was none. Perhaps, as Jotun, he couldn't adorn himself in this way like other men.
His lips twitched in an almost undetectable smile. Keeping his gaze locked with mine, Loki finally dove under the edges of my tunic to pull me against him, forcing us both higher on her knees to meet our chests together. He hummed with each exhale and twirled his right hand around the bottom half of my left breast, then cupped it fully. His other arm wrapped under my shoulder tightly. The fact I wasn't fully naked made the chill of his skin more obvious and mouth-watering, adding a sense of the forbidden to our already wicked affair.
I clenched my fists and sucked in a breath, not daring to close my eyes.
"You are so soft. Made of heat." He massaged greedily, reaching for my rump and yanking forward yet again, forcing a coo from me. "My mind's forgotten what touch feels like. Forgive me while I study it."
I couldn't do much more than nod, taking inventory of all my body's sensations. My lips yearned for more kisses like when he surprised me. Between my legs, I ached for anything at all to satisfy my need for carnal release, which only recently returned after so many weeks of sickness. Even more, I wished to have him sleep by my side so I'd have the comfort of knowing exactly where he was—safe and far from any enemies or plans for violence that so frequently followed him.
Without warning, Loki threw me down at his side; though not forcefully enough to hurt me, the jolt was exhilarating. He bared himself below the waist, keeping me half-clothed as he positioned himself between my legs, where I enthusiastically spread. The new position allowed him to knead the flesh on my hips and thighs, creeping ever higher.
His primal expression was wide-eyed and salivating. He pulled the tunic apart in a single exposure of my upper body and pounced to map the moles across my skin with his kisses.
I couldn't stay static anymore and wrapped everything I could around him—my legs behind his thighs to keep him forward, my arms around his shoulders and neck to keep him low—while I prayed out loud for more. "Please...please..."
He groaned with anticipation while pecking my collarbone and ascending my neck. I turned my face to welcome him up the other side, which felt barren now that he'd covered one with his presence and nibbles.
He huffed into my ear. "Sigyn...a Goddess...a beauty..."—with a swift thrust, he filled me—"...Ginny...my queen...my love."
I gasped in surprise and satisfaction. "Gods, Loki!"
At last, he kissed me, sending both of us far from the tent where we were forced to stay quiet and hidden from the crowd outside. No one else existed in our private realm. For time indeterminate, we were fused, rediscovering and celebrating the perfect rhythm we'd found before. It was far from the first time we'd known one another—but this slow, deep, and patient union was the first time we made love.