NOTE - I got a few requests for a follow-up to Thunderheads, and here it is.
The boots laced up to the knee and forced Natasha onto her toes. Loki spread her legs and tied both arms to the bedposts of the bed inside the mountain hotel. "How long are you going to keep me like this?" she asked.
"As long as it takes." Loki stood back; he thought she looked like a work of art, leg muscles taut as she balanced on the spike heels, power hidden in the slim lines of her arms. "Now, Agent. Time to play." He felt his feral senses prickle as he advanced, producing a wickedly sharp dagger from behind his back. She never flinched, merely raised one eyebrow as he sliced through one strap of her camisole, then the other, so the flimsy material fell to reveal the upright breasts, quivering as she sucked in her breath with excitement.
"I just bought that top," she complained.
"Too bad." Loki pulled her close with one impetuous hand on her waist and ground his hips against hers. As deadly as she was, she was tiny with it – just like the spider whose name she bore. However, the ballet boots brought her closer to his height, so he was able to rub the length of his prick against her, confined in the leather breeches he wore.
"How would you like it if I cut those pants off you? In fact, that's not a bad idea. I might just do that next time." Natasha's look was defiant, promising teeth and claws under the silk of her lovemaking.
"You would have to get out of those ropes first." Loki rubbed against her again before stepping back – after the hurried desperation in the car, he wanted to take his time. Draw it out. Make her wait – and make his own unruly member wait at the same time. Their eventual release would be all the more ecstatic.
He produced another loop of cord and began to tie a series of knots over her chest and down her stomach, creating a design that bound her and presented her body, both at once. Loki bent and nipped the pink and white flesh, suckled his way up her neck and jaw. "How long can you stand there like that?" he wondered.
"I've been practicing. I'm up to twenty minutes standing in these shoes, and we just used up five. You've got fifteen more minutes before I break out of your ropes and walk these spiked heels over your ass."
"You have been practicing? Without me?" Loki felt a flare of temper.
"Practicing for you, jackass."
He produced his dagger again and snipped one side of her panties so they drooped on one side, revealing the sweet swell of her backside. Loki growled as he slapped one smooth globe, drew her closer to tantalize his swollen crotch. "It had better be just for me, Agent." His teeth slid over her jaw, caught her bottom lip – so full, as though she had already been sucking him. Or as though they had kissed for hours.
Natasha shifted her weight from one boot to the other, made her bottom sway temptingly. "Don't get all jealous and angry. You know that pisses me off."
Loki trailed his fingers over the stockings she wore, the ruined thong, the garter belt pinching her flesh, the heavy breasts, to frame her face. "Not true. You love my anger," he declared.
"Do I?"
"Yes. You enjoy feeling out of control, not know what I might do next. For all you know, I could leave you for hours in those boots until your toes break while I hitch the ropes tighter and see how much your flesh can stand."
"Bastard."
"But look at how your body betrays you." He produced the tip of a peacock feather and stroked it over her velvet, shaved lips; the tip of his dick quivered as her cleft spread of its own accord, revealing the secret pink inside. The feather teased her, made her gasp as she grew slick, ready for anything he wanted. He wanted more – he always wanted more. Loki lifted her hips to relieve her toes for a moment, dripped oil down her slit so it rolled over the soft folds and down her thighs.
"Oh my." Natasha flung her head back and leaned on the ropes. "You utter villain – just wait until I have you in the ropes next time."
"Break for me, Natasha," he whispered.
"Never."
"Beg to have me between your legs." He followed the demand with another stroke of the feather.
"N-no."
He produced his dagger once more. "What should I cut through next?" he asked. Her eyes widened and followed as he trailed the blade down her chest, over her belly. With a quick motion he sliced the other side of her panties, allowed them to fall to the floor. Groaning, Loki fell to his knees and buried his face in her. She was sweet, tempting, like fruit. Like salt. Like wine.
She arched back, reared, moved her hips up and down as he licked and trailed his fingers over her nerve endings. And when he let go, stepped back to regard herl with arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, Natasha shifted in the boots, moving her weight from one to the other. "I want you," she muttered. "Now. Please."
At the plea Loki felt his already hard member strain against the tight leather. Her fifteen minutes ticked down in his mind, and he let it go just over the time limit before he cut her down with the razor-sharp dagger. She fell back, staggering in the high-heeled boots.
Loki caught Natasha and carried her to the bed, savaging her neck with his teeth. He tore at the laces of his breeches, releasing his erection ready for her. "Let me feel your heels on my back," he ordered.
Her legs clasped him, the spikes caressed his spine. One touched his tenderest spot, and he sucked in his breath. Desire rushed over him like hot water, and Loki plunged his tongue into her mouth, sank himself inside the heat of her wetness.
An instant later he screamed as a burning pain seared the skin of his shoulder. Natasha held a candle over the skin; she tilted it to allow the hot wax to pool and harden on his skin. "That's for offering to break my toes," she whispered.
"N-Natasha," he gasped.
"But you like it too," she pressed. "You love the way I never play by the rules. Who else keeps you guessing, Loki? Anyone? Ever?" The question was followed by another rush of the hot wax.
"No - never!" he shouted with the last of his breath. Her slit was so sweet, as though it had an extra set of lips on the inside, sucking and fucking him at the same time.
"Don't you dare come yet." Her gaze was direct, staring right into his eyes. "Keep fucking me. I want more."
"I – very well…" Loki scrambled to remember mathematical formulas, the way to position an astrolabe, the rotation of the stars the day he had met her. Anything to distract himself from the gathering heat in his crotch, the unbearable pleasure of the sensations her body gave him.
He seized the candle and held it over her skin, poured a thin trail of wax across her chest just above the décolletage. Added a stripe down her belly. Across her navel.
Natasha bucked and screamed, and he knew they were both close. In that instant, it would be possible to take her throat, snap her neck, and she wouldn't even know it – death and ecstasy arriving in one chaotic moment.
Her eyes held his. She could read the dark desires in his expression. "I can do the same thing to you," she said, and the thought of that – both killing the other at the same time – made him lose any shaky purchase he had on his control, forced him to rear back, to feel the explosion come from his spine and belly and prick – Hel, it seemed to come from every part of his body.
As she quivered and shouted his name.
As she grasped his hips to draw him deeper.
As the flickering candle illuminated the scene.
It wasn't often they arrived in that quiet headspace – just Loki and Natasha, skin to skin in bed. Usually she turned away, padded off to the bathroom, threatened to return to her apartment. But within the tiny room in the small mountain inn an unusual hush filled them both, and they simply lay in each other's arms, ragged breath fluttering up with the smoke from the candle.
As he unlaced her boots and massaged oil into the marked skin, slowly undid the lacework of knots down her chest, the memory of other lovers melted along with the slowly-burning candle. Hodur, for example – Loki had spun bright tales of the lad's beauty and sexual prowess that had gained him access to the young Aesir's trust. All fodder for mischief, of course. And Freya – long ago, to win a bet, he had talked her into bed so he could prove her faithless and create more chaos.
What could I say, he mused, to this tiny female mortal who burns so brightly beside me?
Because that was it, wasn't it? The reason for the threats and violence during his trysts with Natasha. Their blood-soaked language redirected them from the words they didn't want to speak or hear.
Natasha's eyes closed, not with avoidance but with weariness. Loki felt his own eyelids grow heavy, and he brushed his lips over hers in an unusually gentle gesture. "Only one motor car and several pairs of underthings," Loki murmured. "Our destruction was not too overwhelming this night."
"And two corpses," she reminded him.
"Neither of which were ours, so they do not count. And my breeches are still intact, by the by."
Natasha nuzzled his neck. "Fuck off. Just wait until next time."
Outside the wind and rain increased. Loki watched the candle burn and drifted into a new, darker Void: a willing victim of the girl locked in his arms.