14 The Colossus
Natasha came back to her room for a wash and much-needed rack time to find her bed was stripped, belongings piled in boxes. Several of the sex-workers were hauling the cartons out to the hall, grumbling about the extra work. "What the hell?" she asked.
One of the guys shrugged. "Mistress von Bardas said to move your shit to her rooms. Said you're living with her now."
The footage of the activities was in a safe location in the baths, at least. Natasha nodded and thanked the guy, neutralized her own anger at the sudden and unexplained change, and went to find Lucia.
As expected, the cyborg was in her luxurious suite, standing in front of a long closet with the doors thrown back. When Natasha entered, Lucia whirled from the line of silks and furs to run forward and embrace her. "I just had to have you closer to me," she whispered in Natasha's ear. "And, my darling, you need proper attire." Her eyes raked Natasha's body and the usual tattered robe. "Such a stunning figure deserves the very latest modes from the best designers – try this. And this."
Natasha received the clothes Lucia thrust out, her mind whirling. She would have to revise her plans completely to get to Clint and Thor, release the spirit from the Sif Colossus, and get Hundred out of the castle to a safe house. She could do it, but it would mean an extensive reorg. As she put on new, fragile lingerie, an exquisitely tailored shirt paired with a perfect suit, and high pumps, she knew the first order of business was to find Loki, make sure he didn't lose his temper and release his magic. If he did, it could imperil the entire op as well as Clint's safety, and that was just not going to happen.
"Take a look," Lucia murmured. "Do you like it?"
The mirror reflected two elegant women embracing each other. Lucia's lips parted and she cupped Natasha's breasts, stroked the sensitive skin revealed by the crisp shirt. "We dine tonight with Doom and Silver, and I want you to shine next to me. If we give you a French twist, like this…" Her hands moved to Natasha's curls, piling them up in a severe hairdo. "You could be a billionaire. Or a duchess."
The correct response was to smile, pretend to melt under Lucia's affections. Obviously the cyborg wanted a doll of her own to dress up and caress later on the slab. "I love you so much," Lucia moaned. "Do you love me? Will you always be mine? Will you sit with me at dinner, thinking of what we'll do together, later in our rooms? I have abilities we haven't even explored yet – my vibro sensors, undulo-fingertips…"
Yeah, the first thing on my to do list is to dial back the love machine, Natasha promised herself. Even as she kissed Lucia, allowed the cybrog to unbutton the clothes she had just put on, her mind was on full alert, listing with ruthless accuracy the steps she had to take to get her footage back to SHIELD.
"Symkaria is Latveria's sister nation," Silver said. She raised her goblet, touched it to Doom's drink, and drank delicately. Her hair, bright as her name, waved around her face.
"We meet once a year to discuss our mercenary interests," Doom explained. "Of course Silver's jobs cannot cross my main concern, that of Gypsy welfare in my country."
"And what part do the baths play in all this?" Natasha tossed back freshly-curled hair and smiled faintly as Doom, Silver, and Lucia paused.
Lucia's surprise sensors must have activated, and her lips parted. "I don't know if we actually need to talk about that."
Natasha knew she only had hours in the upper echelon of Lucia's love and the marble slab, and she planned to take full advantage. If she had to put up with long vows of eternal love, then she was determined to get something out of it. "Why not? It seems like a strange business for someone interested in personal freedoms for Gypsies to have in his kingdom." Under the table she slid her fingers up Lucia's stocking, fingered the delicate garter holding the filmy silk up. There was a soothing feedback payload located at the bend of the cyborg's knee, and Natasha feathered it with soft strokes.
Doom put down his fork. "Your new lover is quite forthright," he said to Lucia.
The cyborg's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. "Old friend, it is best if we do not discuss our separate arrangements…"
Zorba, on the other side of the table, snapped up a piece of steak, chewed lustily, and nodded. "It's true. Everything goes here in your delightful palace, but outside in the kingdom, we could be hanged if our – arrangements – were discovered."
"Ridiculous." Silver put down her unbitten roll. "What is this, the Dark Ages? In Symkaria the inhabitants are free to choose love where they please."
"But where does that end? Could a man marry his horse if he so chose?" Doom argued.
"Nonsense. That is a canned argument, designed to suppress civil rights. Latveria continues to be a haven of personal liberties."
Natasha continued to smooth Lucia's thighs, and the cyborg relaxed, her eyelashes fluttering closed. There was no answer to the castle baths question, but the spy thought she knew the response – all noble causes required money, and Doom had chosen prostitution to fund his Gypsy revolutions. However, and more importantly, Silver Sable had just crossed another item off Natasha's lengthening to-do list.
Across the table, Zorba froze in the act of cutting his steak. Natasha followed his gaze and saw Loki's furious eyes on her from the gallery where the sex workers waited to serve the guests. She imagined him taking in her elaborate hairdo, the new gown from Lucia's closet, even the subtle make up Lucia's maid had applied.
Why did Loki seem so angry? For his face was black with bad temper. Was it the new clothes, the hair, or her relationship with the cyborg? Or, more probably, her new rooms – no longer accessible at night by climbing the ivy? Although the move was recent, gossip raced through the palace, the sex workers always hungry for a new story to chew over. Loki held her gaze, and his mouth opened as though he wanted to tell her something.
A worker passed by him with tiny savory pastries piled on a tray, and Natasha watched as Loki seized the plate. He stalked up the dais to the raised level where she sat with Lucia and walked behind Zorba, trailing his fingers over the prince's exposed neck. Zorba shuddered, and Natasha raised one eyebrow. Obviously the man was in complete thrall to Loki.
He handed her a pastry formed like a swan, filled with shrimps in cream sauce. A screw of paper was underneath the delicacy, and Natasha palmed it easily. Loki passed on without another look.
She counted to fifty before dropping her napkin. With an exclamation at her own stupidity, Natasha bent and read the note under the table cover. MIDNIGHT AT THE COLOSSUS was written in exquisite, spiked capitals.
Following Loki's cue, Natasha traced the elegant line of Lucia's thigh again as she took her seat and bit into the pastry swan. Beside her the cyborg closed her eyes briefly. Natasha would drag her away as soon as the dancing and conversation allowed, drive Lucia to her sensual limit, and leave the woman in exhausted ecstasy so she could meet Loki by the little stone statue in time.
"Lucia?" It was the first thing out of his mouth.
Natasha faced the dark shadow in the deeper darkness and grinned. "Trying to recover her breath on the marble slab we now share. She'll need several hours before she comes back to sentient life. Zorba?"
"Shouting his safe word at me as I left him tied to the bed. It was his punishment for caving so quickly."
She acknowledged a tactic she would adopt herself. "Not exactly playing by the BDSM book of rules, but I suppose…"
He clasped her waist, cut her off with a quick, brutal kiss. "If it were you, Natasha, I would heed your cries – but I do not think they would come so quickly. Or easily."
"No, indeed. Now, what is your plan?"
He released her and rubbed one thumb over the statue. "If I can access my magic, I will release Sif first. With her help we can go to the Spiders and free my brother and your companion."
"And then?"
"And then I have a plan to reach that interesting island." His teeth were white in the dark, sharp and filled with burning desire.
"I thought you no longer wanted that."
"It has been promised to me, and I assure you I will collect on that promise."
Natasha nodded again. It was exactly what she would say herself. "Tell me what to do."
A shade of tenderness, like dust motes before her eyes, passed over his face. "Stand behind me so I can feel your touch."
"Okay." Natasha pressed against him. Tentatively she circled his slimness with her arms, and he hummed with approval.
"Yes. It's even better when you caress me – the magic is stronger that way."
"Well, how convenient for you." She made her tone sarcastic, and there was an answering snort of humor.
"I can feel her in the stone," Loki whispered. "It's so close, Natasha."
She knew what he needed. Natasha slid one hand down, dipped into his navel, and coiled around the rearing horn there when it arched into her touch. He moaned, and a series of green and gold sparks darted from his fingers. "Again," he begged. "More."
Natasha spat on her other palm and spread the slick little wisp of oil his penis pumped into her hands over the head and shaft. Using one hand against the other she stroked and counterstroked, laughing as his head tipped back against her shoulder. "Concentrate," she whispered.
"I will – I will – I …" Loki's gasp feathered the night room. She felt his heartbeat in the phallus she held, so slick and throbbing for her touch. Or was it her own heart, hammering against his muscles, against that smooth skin? For a moment, Natasha couldn't tell the difference between them.
The little statue seemed to shudder, just as Loki began to pump into her hands. Obviously he couldn't hold back any longer. Under the taut skin she felt the coming onrush of fluid, preparing to spurt forth…
His pelvis jutted forward, and a hot gush flooded the tented material, spilling over her fists. At the same time the statue uncoiled, raised its head, became the most beautiful woman Natasha had ever seen. Quickly she whipped her hands from Loki's breeches, wiped them on the generous material of the new robe Lucia had gifted her that evening. "Loki," she cautioned.
He stood, managed to catch his breath. "Natasha," he gasped, "Meet the Shield Maiden of Asgard, Lady Sif."
The shield maiden tossed back long, black hair and raked him with a contemptuous look in her magnificent eyes. Ignoring Natasha, she demanded, "What in Hel's name is happening? I was promised my golden hair back on my head, and instead I am in what looks like a frost giant's piss pot."
"We just saved you from crumbling into dust ages hence," Loki exploded. "A little gratitude would not go amiss."
"There's no time for this," Natasha interjected. "Sif, it's my pleasure. And now, if you want to rescue Thor and Clint, let's get our asses out of here and down to the pit."
"Thor is in that pile of moving dung?" Sif watched the heap of Spiders intently, her eyes moving between the dark shapes. "This is the strangest tale I have ever heard, Silvertongue, and that is saying something after I watched you tie a goat to your testicles."
"Really!" Natasha turned to Loki for illumination.
He shrugged. "I was young. There was a beautiful goddess involved."
"Riiiight. Flowers, love note, wine all good options to win a maiden's notice – but nope, going with the animal roped to your testes."
Sif emitted a surprised snort of laughter and measured Natasha with a quick glance before turning back to the window. "So how do we rescue the prince? Skewer the vermin, I suppose?"
"No," Natasha said quickly. "They aren't actually Spiders but people in disguise."
Sif tossed her hair. "Humph. Mortals."
"You could eviscerate Thor with one misplaced thrust of your sword," Loki said. "Those are not just mortals in that pit."
The Shield Maiden of Asgard nodded. "Very well. How is it to be done? More of your magic, Silvertongue?"
"Can you use your enchantment?" Natasha asked.
He considered. "No. It's not the same as freeing Sif from the stone – that was something I was well-used to as a boy, letting the spirits of stones and trees emerge…"
"...So you could rut with them," Sif added with scorn. "Well then?"
"We have to name him, in that case," Natasha sighed. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."
"Why not? Art thou a coward, afraid to put a name to your lover and mine?"
"Clint is not her lover!" Loki exploded. "If you name the wrong creature, Sif, you will join them as another Spinner. Is that how you wish to spend your days, scuttling back and forth in the dark, after years being a statue?"
"I suppose not."
Natasha pushed Sif to one side. "I'll go first," she insisted. The 'coward' jibe stung her pride, and she wanted to get out of the palace. "There, see the Spider on the ceiling? That's my guy." She pointed to the one that sat separate from the dark, moving heap, seeming to watch the rest. "You there! I, um, I name you Clint Barton." Nothing happened, and she added, "Hawkeye. Clinton Francis Barton. My friend and partner."
The Spider scuttled down the wall to the window where they stood, and with satisfaction Natasha saw Sif recoil at the sight of the huge beast, the spinnerets, the mandibles, the eight eyes. Loki merely held his breath and wrapped long fingers around her wrist.
One hairy leg tapped the window. The next minute it was replaced by an arm, banded with cords of muscle. "Tasha?" Clint called. "Is that you? What happened to the – Holy living shit!" He had just seen the other Spiders behind him.
"Turn the flywheel on the door," Natasha called. At the same time she spun the gear on her side, and together they were able to get the thick portal open.
Clint slid through, slammed it shut behind him, and leaned on it. "Holy shit," he repeated. "What the actual fuck!"
Sif clapped one hand on Natasha's shoulder. "For a mortal, you have courage! Time for me to be just as brave."
"But can you tell which is Thor?" Loki pushed Clint out of the way and peered through the window.
"There." Sif stabbed at the glass with one long index finger. "See the one protecting the two smaller beasts? That is him. I'll wager my head on it."
Natasha disentangled herself from Clint's massive hug. "It's time," she said.
"I name you." Loki's voice rang out through the dark chamber. "Thor Odinson, wielder of Mjolnir and my brother, lover of the Lady Sif and protector-heir to the nine realms!"
Within the chamber, the Spider shivered and resolved into the huge figure of a blond, muscular man. He staggered back with surprise, and quickly Sif opened the door. "Here, Thor!" she called. "Escape this stinking chamber and let us away to Asgard!"
The man emerged, shaking gold locks out of his eyes, and folded Sif into a deep kiss. As soon as they parted he looked up and touched Loki's shoulder. "You are here, my brother? And who are these mortals?"
"It does not matter," a sneering voice said behind them. "You are all the prisoners of Doom Castle."
Natasha whirled, and saw a group of figures near the old elevator: Doom, of course, flanked by Lucia and Zorba. Behind them stood Kronsteig, holding Hundred's arm. The boy was weeping, and his blood coursed over doctor's claws.