A/N

Sexy times ahead. You have been warned!

Chapter Five: Take It All

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Two Years Later

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His incessant roaring was driving Loki insane. Whilst Loki had known for quite some time that Thor was to be crowned King of Asgard in Odin's stead, he honestly did not believe for a single moment that his older brother was ready for it. He was not stupid, however. Whilst Odin and Frigga continued to insinuate that both his brother and himself were equally as likely to take the throne, he knew their favour was with Thor: the mighty warrior, the bearer of Mjolnir, the Thunder-God, versus Loki: the silver-tongue, the mischief maker, the Trickster-God.

Because that was all his magic was to everyone else. Tricks. He was not the powerful god or the skilled magi, he was the Trickster-God. They did not see his skills for what they truly were – talent, cunning, cleverness, magic-prowess. He was smart, and yet they degraded him by giving him the title of a trickster. Frigga was more understanding, but her own skills were hidden and waning, lack of use causing her focus to have become rusty. Had she revealed her charms, he was certain Odin would have branded her something less desirable than a Queen. At a push, he could see the one-eyed ruler abandoning her totally. Divorce, he imagined. He could understand, then, why Frigga would keep something so close to her chest.

And then there was Iðunn. Sweet, beautiful Iðunn. Now eighteen, she had grown into a spirited girl with as much charm as Loki had allowed to rub off on her. She was fierce and brave, no longer the timid mouse-like creature she once was, her demeanour was coming close to rivalling Sif's, and yet she was no warrior. She detested battle, detested war. She had told him that on Midgard, they would call her a pacifist. He didn't see why she felt she had to draw parallels between the realms to make him understand, but he accepted her views nonetheless, especially because he had no intention of allowing her even within smelling distance of a fight. She was no fighter, and he liked that.

It meant he could protect and care for her.

Their 'affair' had become a passionate one, hidden and secretive and deliciously devious. She had been hesitant to hide it at first, but he knew Odin. Iðunn would not be allowed to remain in the palace another minute if Odin caught wind of their relationship, so they told no-one, not even Queen Frigga.

As the relationship progressed and they became more enamoured by one another, she had told him in no uncertain terms would she give herself to him carnally until she was eighteen. It was difficult for him, but he respected that, and even when potential maidens were flaunted before himself and Thor, the ever-persistent urges of Odin to see them take a wife, he resisted. Thor would walk away laughing, another Lady hanging off his arm, and occasionally he would take one back to his chambers and emerge the next day with a victorious grin, a red face and his blonde hair ruffled that meant the God of Thunder had enjoyed a night of amorous congress, and then he would say 'regretfully' that she was not to his liking – and still, in the face of Thor's arrogance and tales of commixtion, Loki continued to withhold himself. There was no doubt that many a beautiful woman had been offered to him, and for the sake of keeping up appearances he had toured many of them around the grounds, but had always found an excuse to off her – no mater now petty. Her hair was too dark, she didn't appreciate his intelligence, she was rude to his Mother, (that one was a legitimate excuse - she hadn't made it past breakfast) she was too spoiled, she only wanted to marry him because of his title – and so he continued to string out his excuses until the King and Queen eventually stopped calling on suitors for him when it became apparent that he was not going to choose one. Thor continued to entertain frequent guests, Loki noticed this seemed to bother Lady Sif, a mixture of sadness and fury in her eyes whenever Thor bragged of the way he had made another lucky woman howl, all the while completely oblivious to the hurt on Sif's face. Loki was grateful he never had to see Iðunn in such a state, she would send him soft smiles, a playful glint in her eye even when another woman held his arm, knowing that he only had eyes for her.

And tonight he would finally have her. He would cherish her in the way he could only have ever dreamed, and tomorrow he would watch the Coronation of Thor and remain happy, he already had his Queen, and now, if all went according to plan, the Coronation would not go ahead at all.

He had not bothered to mention to Iðunn his plans. Not that he thought she would tell a secret, he knew he could trust her implicitly, but there was one small problem he had with loving her.

She could talk him out of anything.

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Iðunn cursed quietly again as she managed to catch her fingers with the needle for what felt like the tenth time in the quarter hour she had been sat with Frigga. She had become a skilled seamstress, and could craft the most beautiful things, her favourite so far had been a gown in emerald green that she had embroidered ornately with golden flowers – 'chrysanthemums' as the Midgardian's called them – and she cherished it dearly, but kept it well hidden with it being in Loki's colours, she felt that would make things rather too obvious and complicated, and yet today she could not focus at all for the thoughts that he would be peeling it from her body were almost too much. Frigga frowned at her and then sighed softly.

"Iðunn, something troubles you. You are usually most deft with your fingers but today you appear to be all thumbs." The scarlet haired woman looked to her Queen and mentor and sighed, placing her materials and needles down and crossing her hands in her lap.

"I am afraid I feel unwell." Frigga smiled.

"Then go and rest, we needn't do this everyday."

"You know I enjoy it so, my Queen. I would not miss a single day. But I really do feel most peculiar."

"Then you may take your leave." Iðunn stood and bowed her head graciously.

"My Queen." She left. She had not lied, she really did feel unwell. Unwell with nerves. He would know her tonight.

Frigga waited until the door had closed behind the young maiden and then laughed quietly to herself, but spoke aloud.

"Ah, Loki. I am afraid you will be the death of her."

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She fidgeted nervously, wringing her hands and pacing backwards and forwards quickly. She had been doing so for the last hour, trying to keep her wits about her. For all her courage, this frightened her. They had been emotionally very intimate for so long but this was something else entirely, she was going to give him her body and he would give his to her, and yet she knew he would be more experienced than she. She knew he had not been intimate with another woman, much less one of the snotty-nosed woman that laughed like it was strained and cooed over him like a child, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would know exactly what to do.

The knock on her door startled her and she hurried to answer it, pulling him in by his sleeve and closing the door and bolting it quickly. "Did anyone see you? No guards? No Thor?" He didn't reply and she turned to him, frowning. "Loki?"

He was staring at her, his jaw slack and his pupils had dilated almost completely.

"What are you wearing?" She blushed as she remembered.

"I made it for you." She replied softly, and his green eyes snapped up to meet her blue ones, then he was striding over until he stood in front of her, and allowing his eyes to follow all the lines of the dress, before focusing once more on the curve or her waist and the perk of her chest before he rested on her face again.

"They are my colours." His voice was hoarse, she noted.

"Yes."

"The flowers?"

"Chrysanthemums." She murmured and he nodded once in approval.

"Very nice." He sighed, finally reaching out for her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into him. "Very, very nice." Pushing herself up on her toes, she met his lips and closed her eyes, her hands fisting the material of his tunic tightly. He responded slowly, tentatively, as if he were afraid of scaring her, but tightened his grip on her back slightly, then grinned into the kiss wickedly as he slid his hands lower and gently squeezed the tender flesh of her bottom beneath the fabric. She gasped and pulled back slightly, her eyes wide and her moth hanging open as she stared up at him. He furrowed his brow, briefly fearing he had taken things too far too soon, but his fears were quietened when she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently. He returned her vigour and she let out a quiet cry as he squeezed again, and she dipped her head to kiss his neck, the God of Mischief groaning and leaning his head back to grant her more access, her hands going to his hair to comb her fingers through it as she claimed his throat with her lips.

"Please."She breathed against his skin between kisses.

"'Please' what?" She stopped her actions and he held back a growl of frustration as she searched his eyes and licked her suddenly very plump lips, not realising the slight flick of her tongue was driving him mad.

"Please... undress me." She whispered, and his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"As you wish, my Lady." He turned her so her back was towards him and he swept her hair over one shoulder, pressing his mouth gently to the one that was now bare, and he deftly began to undo the line bright golden buttons that adorned the entire length of the gown, from the bottom of her perfect, slender neck to the floor itself, and he found himself admiring her craftsmanship. She was indeed very talented. His eyes swept over the skin of her bare back as more of her was revealed to him, slowly, tortuously. Her skin was as pale as he had always imagined, the freckles that coated her face and neck also had their home on her back, the skin smooth like alabaster. He realised that during his observations of her back that the dress had loosened enough that if he were to let go now, it would pool at her feet and she would be completely bare before him. She seemed to have realised this, as her breathing had become heavy and shaky, the tension sparked and crackled in the air around them that had become thick and weighed altogether too much upon them. He held fast to her dress and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Iðunn, if you are nervous, we need not-"

"Release it." She said. It had barely been a whisper, so faint, and yet he heard her, allowing the silky green fabric to slip from his fingers, and it landed with an almost silent kiss of the carpeted floor. He sucked in a breath as his eyes wandered over her, from the immaculate curves of her shoulders in to her waist and back out to her hips again, which broadened to accommodate her beautiful round behind that had not a single imperfection. He stepped close enough that her back pressed against his chest. She tilted her head back to kiss him once more, her tongue breaching his mouth to dance with his and he found his hands had roamed her skin, only noticing he was toying with her breasts when her back arched and she broke the kiss to whimper and squirm in delight. He growled low and spun her, pushing her up against the locked door and attacking her neck with his lips, one hand sliding lower until her felt her wetness coat his fingers, and he stopped his ministrations on her neck to watch her face when he felt her dig her nails into his shoulders, gripping him tightly. Her head was tilted back, pressed against the ornate surface of her chambers' door, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth forming a perfect 'O' as he found the delicate bundle of nerves between her legs and he circled it daintily. Her breaths became faster and she moved her hips in time with his fingers until her eyes popped open and she pushed his hand away, panting.

"Take them off." She snarled, eyeing his body. He chuckled and gripped her chin between his fingers.

"And when does the maiden make demands of her Prince?" He teased. She smirked then, pressing a hand against the very prominent bulge in his trousers, and he moaned.

"When it is in his best interest to oblige." She whispered, but squealed in shock when he was naked with the flick of his wrist, his erection standing proud before her. He had given her no time to adjust to seeing his body and she was shell-shocked at the suddenness of it all. Grasping her hand, he half-dragged, half-led her to the bed and hoisted her onto it, leaning over her.

"I doubt you would want this against the door. At least not tonight."

She smiled and shook her head, grasping his length in her hand and grinning at how big his eyes became. A strangled noise escaped his throat when she began to pump him slowly, gazing down at him in wonder as the tip of him seemed to mushroom and disappear again with each stroke of her hand. She trembled and let out a squeak when he slowly pushed a finger inside her, both of them quivering at the others touch. He added another digit as gently as he could whilst she was teasing his length, and he groaned at how slick she felt around him, beginning to move his fingers in rhythm with her own hand. He could not describe the ache that was pulsing through his shaft but he knew this would be over all too soon if they were continue as they were, especially when she was writhing and whimpering beneath him. He removed his fingers from her and pulled her hand away from him and she immediately sighed loudly and pouted at the loss. He smiled tenderly and positioned himself between her legs, rubbing his tip along her slick folds, her hot wetness oozing slowly. Leaning down once more to kiss her, fisting her hair he slid himself inside her slowly, her eyes rolled back in her head and she instinctively bucked her hips, earning a moan from the god. He hiked her legs up, urging her to wrap them around his waist and then rocked into her gently, encouraged by her gasps and moans, only picking up speed once he had reached full hilt in her. His thrusts became harsher and she yelled in pleasure with every slam of his hips. He was grateful that he had had the sense to place a silencing charm on her chambers when he first reached her door, because he knew that the moment he had stepped inside the thought would have slipped his mind. He was growling and panting with her, each jolt of their bodies sending shock waves of pleasure straight down his length, burying himself in her as far as her body would allow. She was returning his thrusts quickly, and he felt her shudder and release against him with a scream, her nails biting painfully into his back which triggered his own liberation, his hot seed spilling into her as their thrusts subsided and their bodies intertwined, his shaft still encased inside of her.

He heard her sigh that she loved him as he began to doze off, and in his peaceful haze, he smiled and returned the sentiment in kind.