Again, thanks so much for the lovely follows, favourites, comments and reviews. I send Loki kisses to Moriarty-assbutt, thepheonixandthedragon4ever, a very cool guest, and silentspace for dropping by to say hello and leave comments. As always, you inspire me!
As always, all input is welcome. I'm constantly trying to improve as a writer, so feel free to offer suggestions.
7. Sleep With Me
Once dinner was finished, the bards' songs applauded, and a long tale of Odin rescuing a maiden from bilgesnipe told by a rather drunk jester, Frigga rose and gestured to the assembled company. Natasha looked around as everyone got up to follow the queen to yet another imposing, golden room where strains of music could be heard.
As she got to her feet, Loki's arm snaked to hold her to his side. "And now we go and stumble around a overheated dance floor," he whispered in her ear. He followed his words with stream of breath and a tiny lick, and she tried not to let her knees crumple with desire. "And I am certain I shall have to compete for your hand among a clutch of would-be suitors. I foresee several duels in my future."
"Nonsense," she scoffed. "Did you see those other women at dinner?"
"No. I told you before, I only see one."
It was difficult not to melt under the influence of his continual charm. "I'm specifically talking about the goddess with long curling hair the color of ripe wheat. She raised her glass to us at dinner. Who is she?"
He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips along her knuckles. "I suppose you mean Freya, the goddess of love and beauty. She is always delighted with herself when a couple is so obviously about to have their way with each other in bed."
"Loki!" Natasha gasped into his face, and his cheeky grin spread to reveal the white teeth and his fascinating dimples as his arm tightened around her.
"Do not plan on attending this infernal dance for very long." His whisper was right by her ear, making her shiver with its intensity.
"Prince Loki, my son. Lady Natasha." Odin's imperious voice broke into their shared reverie, and Loki looked up with a snarl.
"What do you wish?"
The All-Father was unperturbed. "The youngest princess of Vaneheim is here on a visit. I wish you to take her in for the first dance…"
"Absolutely not." A stormy look came into his face.
"Of course he will," Natasha interrupted. She grasped Loki's collar with both hands and went on tiptoes to speak to him quietly. "Do as your father says and be polite about it, or our 'conversation' will not take place. Do I make myself clear?" He started to protest, but she interrupted, "I'll take no arguments. No, be off with you, Mischief, and please don't glamour the poor girl. You want to flirt with the princess, not seduce her."
"What did you just call me? Mischief? I suppose I cannot deny it fits. Very well, but after this you are all mine."
Odin's gaze never faltered, but his lips quivered as Loki gave a brusque nod to them both and went off to find the princess. After a brief hesitation, Odin turned to Natasha. "The queen would like to speak with you. However, I see a great crowd of suitors headed our way – it seems you are in for a time of being in demand."
"Me? Can't be." Natasha shook her head, but she was proved wrong. A group of men and several women rushed up to surround her, all talking at once.
"May I have this dance, Lady Natasha?" asked a youthful courtier with long golden hair.
"Do not listen to the boy, it is my hand you want." This came from an older gentleman with chestnut curls and a scar slashed across one cheek.
"Where did you acquire your dress? It is divine!" A young goddess touched the material of Natasha's gown admiringly.
"Nay!" Volstagg wedged himself through the crowd. "Thou art all a swarm of wet minnows, and the lady best take the man who can swing her the fastest in the Hringr."
There was a chorus of protests, and Natasha held up one hand. "Enough!" she called out. "Volstagg was supposed to bring me to dinner. Therefore if I must choose anyone, he must be the one."
"Ha! The lady has taste," Volstagg cried out in triumph. The huge Viking grasped her hand and dragged her onto the floor. A lively dance was already in process, and as he swung her into the fray, she saw Loki pass by with stern look in his eye and a very young, dazed-looking girl on his arm. "Lean on me, Lady, and let us show these children a thing or two," Volstagg roared at the top of his lungs.
The Hringr, she found, was simple enough: she was swirled around at top speed by the warrior, released to stamp her feet, clap, reverse directions, and do it again. It reminded her of several Russian dances she had learned as a child. The music provided by a horde of musicians was lively, and once she got the hang of the movements she found she was enjoying herself. She always liked to dance, and Volstagg was a simple companion: loud and boastful but intent on enjoying each moment of bearing her around the floor. He bent to attend her every word, laughed uproariously at her comments, and at the end of the dance bent to kiss her hand. "Well done, lass – we taught them how it was done. Eh? Wilt thou attend me in another later?"
"We'll see." Privately she doubted Loki would be very happy about that.
Volstagg seemed happy enough with her answer and left her to return to his companions, spreading his arms wide and bellowing to them across the room. "Friends! Congratulate me! I am in love again!"
As soon as Natasha was alone, the queen found her. "Come and speak with me now, if you will."
Natasha saw Loki with a face like thunder crossing the floor towards her. "Best hurry," she cautioned, and slipped with Frigga into a hidden seat out of sight of the throng.
"I simply must ask you – how have you enchanted my son so?" Frigga shook her head in bewilderment. "Never have I seen him so pleasant, so compliant. I feared he would be banished by now or at least turned into a mistletoe tree once he and Odin confronted each other this eve. Truth be known, I dreaded the usual stream of ironic curses and sarcastic stories he spews at these celebrations… but you seem to wind him around your little finger with ease."
"It's not magic, if that's what you mean," Natasha replied. "Loki is extremely complex, but like most men he's simple enough once you know how to manage him."
Frigga reached out and took both Natasha's hands in her own. "I almost am brave enough to hope Loki will eventually win his complete freedom as well as happiness. However, I feel you are a large part of that. Without you near, I fear he would immediately return to his old tricks and tantrums. Tell me, how long will you stay with us?"
"I really must return the instant Nick Fury requires my help. My plan was to ask Heimdall to inform me when I have to go back on the job."
"Would you consider staying here instead? You could learn Asgardian warfare and fight alongside Lady Sif and her Warriors. It would mean you could stay by Loki's side…"
"Allow me to propose on my own, Mother." Loki stalked around the column shielding the seat from the dance floor; his dark brows were drawn together, and there was a sharp warning in his voice. However, Natasha considered, the mere fact he called Frigga 'Mother' was a huge improvement on his earlier black mood.
The Queen seemed happy at his words. She rose, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and smiled warmly at Natasha. "I am so pleased you came to us. Now, my son, you will simply have to do your best to persuade her to stay in Asgard."
"Indeed, but 'twould be best to use subtlety instead of bludgeoning her over the head and dragging her off to a cavern." Loki bowed and held out his hand to Natasha as Frigga left them. "Forget whatever she said to you – and forget everyone else in the room. I will not see you with any other this night." With a sudden movement he pulled her close. "Will you dance with me, darling?" he asked.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head back so she could look up into his face. "Is it another round of the Hringr?"
"I do not know, nor do I …" His voice trailed away. "Truth to tell, with your arms around me and your sweet form pressed to mine like this, I feel I cannot move from this spot."
She saw the delicate skin of his neck jump as his pulse leaped like a salmon; the bold caresses they had shared in secret under the table and the prolonged kisses in his captive's library combined to set her mind and body on fire. "Loki, I – I can't move either. What are we to do…" The slightest motion of him next to her would be enough to set her off, and her shudder caused an answering ripple through his body. She was afraid she might wind her legs around his waist right there in the ballroom in front of warriors and goddesses, and her heartbeat threatened to choke her. His ragged breath on her throat made her feel faint. "Mischief, what…?"
"Enough. I think the only questions are When, Where, and How, and the answers are Now, In My Bed, and Every Way Possible." He smiled, the promise of deep kisses and forbidden knowledge flashing in his eyes.
"Oh, my. Will it matter if we leave early?"
"I care not. Come with me now," he growled into her neck, and in a whirlwind the ballroom disappeared.
The fire blazed in the hearth, and the dressing gown still hung over one arm of the large chair. Natasha and Loki appeared into his bedroom in a blink of his magic; instantly he folded her into a deep kiss. His earlier gentleness was completely gone; his teeth and tongue rent her mouth as though he were intent on plundering every atom of her body. "Natasha," he gasped, as he took the neckline of her dress in his fist and with a quick movement ripped the gown and underclothes open to reveal her naked body under the green silk. It was shockingly sexy to feel the air on her in such a violent way.
"Is that how we are playing now?" She allowed anger to simmer in her voice and pulled his coat off, knowing he would enjoy a frisson of danger in their loveplay. Underneath his shirt was dazzling white. Natasha yanked the lapels apart with her fists, ripping open the fine fabric.
"I liked that shirt," he muttered in her ear.
"I liked that dress. Now be silent." Natasha sucked on his lower lip, pulled it between her teeth. He groaned, picked her up, and tossed her onto the bed; before she could move he climbed on top of her and plunged his tongue into her mouth again.
"Kiss me and do not stop," Loki ordered. Natasha let her tongue slide over his lips. He licked her in turn, and she tasted the wine he drank earlier, as well as pine and his own masculine flavor, strong and sharp.
Her veins buzzed with arousal, her skin shivered with desire. "I missed you," she couldn't help saying to him. At once he stopped, pushed himself up on one long arm to look down at her.
"Do you mean that?"
"You know I do. You were present in those dreams we shared, weren't you? Don't tell me you weren't aware of them. I won't believe you."
"Of course I was, but…" He leaned back on his elbow, pushed the black hair out of his face, and gave her a rueful grin. Suddenly he looked absurdly young. "No one ever misses me," he said in a low voice.
Natasha's lungs overflowed; she felt like a girl drowning under the black frost of ice. As Loki frowned, perhaps at some bitter memory, she claimed his strong, hard shoulders with her arms and drew him close to simply hold him for a moment. "Their loss. I found it difficult to go on without you, but I told you not to let it go to your head."
"And I told you, everything goes to my head. Especially your kisses – they are like precious liqueur, like the apples of Idunn. I just cannot get enough of you…"
Natasha silenced him with her lips. She wanted to taste his tongue, feel her legs start to shake with desire, his body tremble under her hands. He bit her neck, licked the flesh on her breasts, sucked the dark cone of her nipple into his mouth, blew on it to watch it peak and harden. His breath blazed down her stomach, between her thighs, where he found the flitting bumblebee of her sex, licked her softly, swirling her with his lips and tongue.
She screamed, bent backwards, and he grasped her hips with both arms, lifted her up to his mouth like a feast. "Loki, I may just lose it when you circle your tongue over me like that. Where did you learn such things, it's just beyond comprehension, I can't believe the way you make me feel, it's as though you love it as much as I do," she warned him between gasps.
His laughter was laced with lust. Natasha shivered as he prowled towards her on the bed, pounced, and kissed her deeply again. She could taste herself on his lips. "Do you see? You are delicious… nectar and honey…" The weight of his erect shaft between her thighs made her jolt upward and take in a sharp breath. "Are you ready for me, darling? I am desperate for it," he exclaimed.
"Yes, do me now…" Her voice rose into shriek as he entered her and drove his hardness into her soft center, shouting with delight and longing. Withdrawing achingly slow, he pushed his entire length into her again and again, his face contorted with pleasure so intense it almost looked like pain. "Never," she gasped. "I never felt anything like this."
"Nor I. You have me – Natasha, I am on fire."
"You are on fire. You're burning me now, inside and out…I can feel every inch of you…"
"I … cannot…" At his words, a confession of undoing, she felt her core begin to pound, building up to a peak of unbearable sensation. He fucked her with one last thrust, clasping her body to his, vibrating with fever and release, rolling to one side, grasping her legs with his hands, biting the side of her neck as they both spent inside and around each other, like impassioned young lovers discovering the joys of laying together for the first time.
Their bodies shook with the aftermath; she felt as though she had come back into herself from a long voyage across an alien sea. He shuddered as she ran her fingernails down the elegant curl of his spine to elicit the last drops of his seed.
He sucked in a quick breath, tried to speak, collapsed onto her. For a long moment neither of them moved, and she felt their combined sweat pool between their bellies. At last he gasped, "Where did you learn that little trick?"
"This?" She fingered his spine again, and he closed his eyes.
"Mercy! Gods, I shall be undone."
"Did you just beg me for mercy?"
"Do not let it go to your head." His dark smile made her tremble as he covered her lips with his.
Much later Natasha slid out of the bath she had shared with him. The water puddled on the floor from their vigours, and her hair clung to her neck in wet tendrils. As she stepped into a huge towel, Loki climbed out behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "You'll have to carry me to your bed," she said. "I literally cannot walk."
Before she could finish speaking, he swept her up in his arms and strode to the bed. He had used his magic to remake it; the sheets were fresh and folded back ready for them. "Shall I conjure you some wine or fruit? Anything?"
"Just you," she sighed, nestling close to him. Gently he kissed her lips swollen with lovemaking and nuzzled her neck. "What about my dress?" she demanded. "How will I get back to my room when we are finished?"
"We will never be finished, darling, and you shall stay here if I have any say in it. I have discovered the advantage of being a prisoner: it is like being in a bubble with you."
"You'd be bored after several hours," she warned.
"You are speaking to the god who was chained to a rock for years and held within more dungeon rooms more times than I can count. We could play Hnefatafl, read, paint, or simply talk together. I want to know all your stories, your thoughts – everything about you."
"Eventually I'll have to return, though." She played idly with a strand of his black hair.
"To being an assassin? I thought you were offered a different life here on Asgard this night."
"Yes, but I can't simply…" A thought struck her, and Natasha sat up. "That's what I wanted to tell you. I spoke with Nick Fury after you left Midgard, and he agreed to help me try and convince the SHIELD council to agree to your return. We could work together, Loki – you did a lot of good during the last case. Would you like that?"
He lay back on the pillows and tugged at her ringlets as they cascaded over his face. "Work with you? But you have a partner, or so I understand."
"Oh, yes - that's another thing I meant to talk to you about. I told you Anzhela was pregnant when you and I were in the tree branches together, do you remember? Well, the father is none other than my former partner. How do you like that?"
Loki struggled to suppress a grin, but when she dug her fingers in his side to tickle him he burst out into hearty laughter. "I am sorry!" he gasped. "Surely this is a tender issue for you, darling, but to think of the archer as a father of your great niece – actually, it all fits, does it not?"
She snorted, snuggled into his arms, and yawned. "We have a great deal to think about, you and I."
"And we shall, tomorrow. Sleep with me, Natasha. Go to sleep now by my side."
