A/N: I introduced the idea in the last chapter that Sif has a streak of dark magic in her that she isn't aware of. Here, we see it at work in very interesting and naughty ways, much to Loki's intrigue.

Warnings: This chapter fully takes advantage of my M rating. It's graphic and sticky and a little violent.

Sif resisted the urge, mercifully, to tear the linen shirt from Loki's body. He had a limited wardrobe in Glasir and this green tunic seemed to be his favorite choice for the warmer climate. She didn't want to upset him, at least not in this way. She instead pulled the shirt up over his head and arms, pressing her body to his as she did so, her breath hitching at the sight of stringy hair falling onto pale naked shoulders. His eyes became wild. With a force she wasn't expecting, he pulled her into a rough kiss then shoved her to the ground. Her heart raced. She recovered quickly, sitting upright on her knees and shoving her cloak from her shoulders, awaiting his next move. He stepped closer to her, towering menacingly, the grass crunching beneath his step. Her body flared with feral anticipation, one that could burn even hotter if rendered more exposed, so she ripped open her blouse down to the leather corset, spreading split fabric to barely cover the tender flesh which hardened at the invisible touch of the cool night. He inhaled deeply. A tiny smirk tugged at her lips and she moved her hands down her body, spreading her knees and gazing up at him with taunting invitation.

Loki met her smirk and dropped down in front of her, attacking the laces of her corset and tearing her blouse off one shoulder until her breast was exposed. She rolled her head back as he indulged in her flesh, her fingers digging into his back when his teeth pinched, her exhales going vocal when his tongue then caressed. She grabbed his hair in handfuls and hugged him to her chest, craving more, her thighs pinching him like a vice. His hand ducked beneath her bunched skirt and up her hip, seizing her thin undergarments with a hot, supernatural grip that reduced them to ash. The heat resided on her body, specifically raw, wanton flesh that now pulsed harder from the teasing singe. She ached for him to maddening degree.

One simple shove sent him to his back and she made short work of his pants, peeling them down the long lean legs and over bared feet. She couldn't recall a time since his arrival that he had been wearing his boots. Must be a Jotun thing. She began crawling up his naked, ready body, aiming to mount him but he held her back, sitting back up on his knees and pulling her onto his lap. It appeared he wasn't relinquishing all control this time. Sif was okay with that, the fierceness of his bared teeth making her heart palpitate. He yanked off each of her boots as he wrapped her legs around his hips, and she hiked up her nuisance of a skirt. Despite the clothing still clinging for life to her body—laughably one of her more conservative ensembles—Sif's most sensitive of skin was pressed flush to Loki's sticky and hard flesh. She rocked her hips upon his lap and relished the height advantage she now had, capturing his mouth in a forceful, devouring kiss.

They moved in unison as he slid inside her. Her grip tightened on his hair and he squeezed a handful of upper thigh. Their lips resonated with a hungry, vocal song and their bodies melded into an unhurried dance. There was no need to rush. The pressure that usually drove Sif into a primal race to the finish was simply appeasing itself by rocking on easy thrusts, a far cry from past times with Loki when their unions were rushed through borrowed time and teetering on the fear of being caught (which sometimes added to the excitement). But now, ever since Loki's return from the grave, and especially here in Glasir, there was nothing but time to enjoy him: to bask in his flesh and gorge upon his mouth. To hum sweetly into him and cup his moonlit face in her hands. To experience the beautiful landscape of her childhood in a new and enchanting way. The night breeze wasn't even a bother after the campfire shrank to embers, not while her legs were wrapped tightly around his sweating body, and not while his palms roamed possessively over her shoulders, back and breasts. His touch was icy yet it was his signature cold that could never chill her, not even after learning his veins pumped with the blood of frost giants. That knowledge only heightened the thrill of him.

Such a strange creature Sif has allowed full access to everything she holds sacred. Nobody could truly understand the reason for this either, not even Sif until recently, when she admitted to herself a guilty pleasure which she had to suppress for the last thirteen years. Loki's crimes, which he had claimed were an insult to her honor so long as he was her lover, were actually a damnable turn on. She didn't, by any means, condone them, but in some delusional twist of logic, she felt like each time she conquered Loki in this manner, she was rightfully punishing him. She was proving to him that his very life was at her mercy and that each time he slid away, alive, from her naked, satiated body, it was only because she was allowing him a shot at redemption.

Sometimes Sif wondered if she should get her head checked. But only sometimes. Most of the time she imagined taking Loki while he was in the midst of his worst behavior, being there on Midgard when he was apprehended. Being tasked to watch him, privately, while Thor and his team attended to other matters. And how many times had she been tempted to visit him in the dungeon. How many fantasies had she conjured of the raw and forceful show she could put on for Loki's cell mates, the lessons she could teach by dubiously consenting acts. Sif had a dark side she was still learning to understand.

Embracing it, however, came too easily.

With a strong, controlled movement, Sif tumbled their joined bodies down the slight bank and into the shallow river, pinning Loki on his back and into the icy waters, all while keeping him seated inside her. He blinked in surprise but he knew not to resist her, glancing down at her legs and skirt which were submerged right along with his body.

"You're going to get chilled," he noted, propping himself on his elbow to keep his head above water, "and then you are going to whine."

"Shut up," Sif said, wild-eyed. She couldn't even feel the cold. "I want you to turn blue. I want to feel your true skin against mine." She shoved his head under, repeatedly, pulling it up only to allow him breath but not words. His commentary was not welcome now. She wanted only one thing from him. "Show me your true nature."

"It's not like," Loki gasped as he finally allowed space to talk, "I have voluntary control over—" he then cut himself off upon seeing his chest change color and the patterns appear. Lifting his hand out if the water, he put his transformation on full display, clenching his fist open and closed and wincing as oranges and reds bled over his eyes. "Happy now?"

Sif became speechless as the once soft flesh hardened into leather, as alien motifs—the kinds Sif often regarded as targets on the battlefield—spread across the torso between her thighs, and as sparkling emeralds became fiery slits. She then gasped when she felt a distention deep inside her, caused by a curious and throbbing push, a delightful secret unfolding. She beheld Loki breathlessly and he simply shrugged with a sly smile, one that was devilish enough under his Aesir veil but now seemed spawned from the very fires of the underworld.

She couldn't hesitate any longer.

With a bestial noise she ripped the remaining rags of blouse from her chest and hauled his cold and coarse body to her needy flesh. She then began rocking, urgently, digging her nails into his back, scratching hard but barely breaking the surface.

"You," Loki breathed out between thrusts, "are an animal."

She could only confirm his comment with grunts and other nonsensical sounds that cried out in want with each penetration that rubbed her flesh to a raw tingle. Never had she felt friction as rough, as chilling and as searing all at once. She wouldn't be able to walk right for days but she didn't care. Not when a mind numbing pressure was driving her to euphoric insanity, stretching time as she stretched her body. She could have floated in this state forever, soaring on a strangely supernatural bliss, fueled by pleasurable pain. But then a coarse grip upon her breast pushed her over the edge, electrically, loudly, and with a fierce clenching of limbs and body.

She descended into a light-headed haze. The moment her body went limp Loki seized control and pinned her into the muddy bank, bodily, still inside her, still thrusting only slowing down, drawing it out, friction that became more painful each second. She didn't have the strength to resist.

"Loki," she pleaded, out of breath.

He slowed his movements even more. "Am I hurting you?"

"Yes."

"Would you like me to stop?" His voice had an edge. He didn't want to stop.

She paused to catch her breath, letting her body restore some of its strength, listening while it told her what it wanted. To her surprise, it didn't want him to stop either.

"No." She grabbed his flexed ass and forced him fully inside her. "I told you, I want you to show me your true nature." Sitting up on an elbow, she then nipped at his blue lips and taunted the silver tongue. "Lie to me."

Loki beheld her questionably, slightly taken aback. He wasn't expecting that, but neither was she for that matter. He then resumed his pace, starting slowly at first then building to grind her body into the rocky mud and sand, grunting with each unmerciful, searing thrust that made her cry out, nearly regretting her request. Finally, he ascended into climax, a blessed wash of cooling release that calmed her flaring flesh.

As he melted down upon her the lie finally came out. "I have never betrayed you."

She went still, suddenly feeling the chill of her environment and his body upon her. She asked for his true nature and sure as Hel did she get it. She shivered.

Loki lifted his head from her shoulder, pushing the hair off her face, meeting her eyes with restored emeralds which she couldn't quite read. They could be sad. They could be relieved. It was hard to tell. "May I speak the truth now, my darling?"

"Please," she whispered.

"I love you."

Her breath caught. She then replied, "I love you too."

If only she fully understood why.