Just as she suspected, three weeks into June and the subway routes were sweltering. The AC vents barely made a whisper in the darkness, and Max had been doused in sweat since she stepped out of the tepid liquid in the sewer system and into connecting tunnel that led them to the subway.

"They're trying to roast us out." She looked up sharply at the haggard man seated across from her, a couple of flashlights illuminating the small, rusty table. "I think they've switched off most of the air conditioning, but we're trying to get the system up and running again."

"Reed might be able to help with that," Peter said through his mask, the secrecy of his identity more important than ever. "We can try to hack in and override the main system."

"That'd be helpful."

She felt Loki's arm slide across the back of her chair, and when she glanced at him, she noticed his expression was unfocused—was he zoning out? Frowning, Max nudged him, which seemed to bring his attention back to the here and now. He smirked, sitting up a little straighter, and then gave a little shrug.

Four days had passed since they broke a group of people out of Central Park, Manhattan was invaded with roving gangs of Loki clones, and Johnny delivered the serum to Captain America. From what she gathered, the Captain was a bit overwhelmed at the moment, handling Operation Freedom for the entire continent from a crowded underground bunker in Brooklyn. Johnny told her that he was hesitant to trust Stark's serum, but only fleetingly, and jumped onboard with their intended assault on Manhattan—and now the rest of the boroughs—with vigor.

He and his teams were making progress, apparently. Johnny tried to play the Captain up, but no matter what he said, Max wasn't buying it. That guy was their country's first superhero, and he'd let aliens run things for almost a month and a half now. He barely made a move in the grand scheme of things, and while she could share the others' enthusiasm for the new coordinated attack on all five of the boroughs this upcoming weekend, she couldn't get rid of the awful taste that Captain America left in her mouth—and she was sure it had something to do with Nolan.

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers, and with the Captain flanking their assault elsewhere, Reed sent Peter to look for allies in the city. Yesterday, Peter, Johnny, and Ben had rescued a small cluster of prisoners who were being moved from Central Park, catching them heading south on Park Avenue. After dispensing with the guards, they moved the people underground, and they had finally gauged just how many people were in the subway: hundreds of them, all across the city lines, and they were getting rowdier.

Enter Peter Parker as the city's beloved friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. With Reed's instructions in mind, he went into the sewers with Johnny, Loki, and Max, and for the better part of the muggy day, they had been working their way through clusters of people. Thankfully, there were fewer roving gangs of assholes looking to rob them, and after spending several hours talking to people, they eventually found the group of people who seemed to be running things: fire fighters, police officers, and a handful of medical support staff holed up in the bowels of Grand Central on 42nd Street.

Gene Plymyth was the captain of the 19th precinct in Manhattan, and he seemed to be the one tentatively holding the underground communities together. After meeting Johnny Storm, who had been his son's hero for decades, he was more than willing to show them what he had been doing to feed, clothe, and look after the subway folk. There were rumors that aliens had taken over, though no one knew the specifics—cue an educational lesson with Loki. People wrote down everything he had to say on the alien species above, and when he was finished, several officers flitted off to spread the word.

"I noticed… differences in some of the higher-up guys," Gene had muttered after Loki's explanation. "I'd been out on sick leave on and off for about a year—"

"Which explains why you're still you," Loki had said in return, seemingly delighted with the fact. "I bet they would have loved to take you over."

The subway people had been pretty wary of Loki. In fact, some started shrieking when they spotted him, recognizing his face from the TV propaganda campaign, and it took every bit of Johnny and Peter's well-established reputations as heroes to talk most of them down. Max had almost no pull anywhere, but Reed had actually suggested she go with the group to add some semblance of normalcy—she was supposed to be relatable.

As she looked around the dirty utilities room she found herself in, she wasn't sure how relatable she could be to these people. For the most part, no one had paid her much attention, and she was fine with it that way. She had Johnny's pistol tucked in a holster on her hip, and she had the best bodyguard on the planet. For the most part, she just wanted to hear that someone would try to help organize all the scattered people below the city—that they'd actually have a shot at things.

"They keep trying to cut the power too," Gene said after a moment of silence. "We're making due with the back-up generators, and there are lots of MTA maintenance guys and gals down here, but they're pushing real hard to get us out of the tunnels."

"Do you have any barricades built? Lines of defense?" Peter spoke again, and Max couldn't help but look at him with a sense of pride. The guy was barely over twenty, and he was handling everything like he was a grown ass man who had done this dozens of times before. "We usually blitz in and out of subway stations—"

"You guys do, yes," the captain continued, nodding between Peter and Johnny, "but we're watching the cameras and we've got guys stationed around the busy entryways. Bullets kill just as well as the… What did you call it again?"

"Serum," Max offered. "Bullets kill people too, and that was the whole point in making the serum. If we can just gas the city like that lizard thing a few years back, we can avoid as many civilian deaths as possible."

She pressed her lips together: had she just said civilian, like she was some military grunt? Loki's hand slid up to her shoulders as the police captain studied her. He then nodded.

"It's a decent idea," he said, admitting it for the first time. "I don't even want to begin to estimate how many they've killed so far, and the more people we can spare, the better."

His expression could only be described as heavy. There were large bags around his eyes, his cheeks dropped down, and his skin had a yellowish hue to it that almost looked sickly. He was clearly not getting enough to eat: not only did his cheeks sag, but they sunk too. The weight of the city rested on him—him and Johnny and Peter. They all needed to share the burden, and in that moment, she realized how selfish she might have sounded when she pushed for action. People needed to fight, yes, but so much fell to these heroes, super or not, to fix things that were beyond their pay grade. Her eyes started to water at the thought, and she hastily brushed a finger beneath them, sniffling and hoping no one had noticed.

"We could really use your backing for this," Johnny said. "This Saturday is when it's all going to go down, and it'd be for the benefit of everyone involved if we were coordinated."

"Not everyone down here can fight—"

"And we'd look to you to determine that," Johnny agreed, nodding a few times and leaning forward, his arms folded. "I mean, I know not everyone is going to want to march to the beat of this drum, but we've got to try to separate some armed forces from people who can't fight."

"Or won't fight," Peter added. He drummed his gloved fingers on the table, and Max noted just how ridiculous it was to be sitting in a room full of people and a costumed vigilante.

"There's a lot of gang violence on the rise," Gene said with a sigh. "People picking up old habits, drug users, extortionists… We can only do so much down here."

"That's why we need to react soon," Johnny said. "We sat on this for too long, and everyone is suffering for it."

"You know, I bet I'd really have some pull if you guys went around with some of my guys." Max noticed a bit of light in the older man's eyes as he spoke, sitting up a little straighter. "You know… Maybe get the Thing and Sue Storm. It'd be a good rally cry, you know?"

"We could… talk to them," Johnny said slowly as he exchanged a quick look with Peter—or Peter's white, soulless suit eyes. "I'm sure they'd be up for one or two days this week. Spidey and I can manage the rest."

"That'd be great." Gene's attention moved over to Loki, and his spirit seemed to deflate a little. "Maybe you should just… keep your distance for now."

"Oh, the tragedy," Loki groaned, a hand on his heart. "I don't know how I'll be able to keep myself away."

"They should see him though," Johnny argued, slapping him on the back just hard enough to make Loki's eyes narrow. "I mean, he's going to be on the ground with Ben on the day… They need to know they can trust the guy."

Max smirked, running her hand up his arm. "You'll be great down there! Rallying the troops, giving speeches, getting down in the mud—"

"I hate you," he mouthed, his narrowed look turning to her, and she grinned.

"Hey, whatever you guys decide, I'll go with it," Gene muttered, throwing his hands up. "As long as people know what's happening, we'll be in better shape than we are now."

"Anything is better than now," Peter agreed, nodding before standing up. "Look, we should get back…"

Loki stood, almost too eagerly, at the mention of leaving, and Max followed him, her hand in his.

"Do you think that you could leave some of that serum with us?" Gene looked hopefully between Peter and Johnny as he rose to his feet. "I mean, if I could show it in action—"

"It's our secret weapon, Captain," Johnny said. They then shook hands. "We don't want anyone outside the human race knowing about its existence until Saturday." He paused, pumping the captain's hand a few times. "Hell, even at that point we'd like to keep what's happening here as quiet as possible. We have a whole country to help after."

"You should be wearing stars and stripes, Johnny," Peter teased, darting around the group and heading for the door. "Suits the speech more."

"Hey now—"

It was then that a siren on Captain Plymyth's walkie started shrieking, and Max covered her ears instinctively, her gaze darting up to Loki.

"You want to start showing everyone just how much you're team players?" Gene shouted over the noise as he raced for the door. The group followed him, and they were quickly joined by other officers—everyone was armed, which made Max feel a little better.

"What's happening?" she called over the screams of walkie-talkies. No one bothered to answer, but she rightly assumed that sirens and gun-wielding Regular Joes wasn't a good sign. Loki kept pace with her, which seemed to be no effort at all for him, and they traveled through the dingy corridors until they reached a flight of stairs, first taking them up, and then sending them down, down, down.

They ended up exiting through a service corridor into one of the subway tunnels, and she covered her ears as gunfire rang out. Loki pulled her behind him, and they ducked low to the ground, trailing behind the group toward the thick of it. The scene was almost painfully familiar: black uniforms trying to get onto the platform, and people on the tracks trying to stop them. She stopped, momentarily paralyzed, and Loki shoved her back into the dark train tunnel.

"Stay here," he ordered, pushing down on her shoulders and catching her scattered gaze. "I mean it, Max."

"Just go," she urged, pushing against him. Johnny and Peter were already in the fight, and they seemed to be tipping the scales in favour of the subway dwellers—there were even a few joyous shouts when Peter plastered two black uniformed men to a pillar, but it was all too noisy to be certain of anything. She ducked down, shoes crunching on the gravelly dirt below, a hand resting on the moist wall. It was too hot, and yet her hands were in a cold sweat—nerves, adrenaline, and whatever else were really fucking with her body's response system.

It was sheer chaos. If she thought about it, Gene shouldn't have been there at all—not when he was the guy holding the fragile ecosystem down there together. Still, he was a good shot, and she watched him singlehandedly take down three uniforms in one go, stopping only to reload his clip. She pulled Johnny's pistol out, checked the chambers, and then leaned back against the wall, steadying her breathing. Fire burst out from the top of the platform's stairwell, and Max saw four black uniforms topple over the railing and onto the concrete below—screaming and writhing and squirming out of burning clothing.

Someone put bullets in them moments later.

Four Lokis danced around a duo who had made it onto the platform and successfully evaded gunfire. However, when they all gathered on one side and the duo raised their guns, the real Loki lunged from behind a column and snapped their necks, twisting the helmets so violently that her breath caught in her throat. He then sprang forward and pulled a uniform off a man, then tossed the figure onto the tracks, where it was promptly dealt with by the people waiting below.

The uniforms went into a hasty retreat, but Max spied two who managed to sneak around the defenses. While Loki joined Johnny in chasing the retreating figures up the stairs, Max watched the uniformed soldiers creep down onto the tracks. No one else noticed. They were checking dead uniforms and fallen friends alike, but Max saw them. Swallowing thickly, she raised her gun and shot one in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Before his friend could even raise his weapon, a firestorm of bullets whizzed by from the other side of the track. Max screamed and ducked down, arms thrown over her head protectively as bullets sunk into the walls and rattled off pipes. They were aiming for the soldiers near her—not at her—and she told herself that over and over again until the shooting stopped.

She screamed again when someone clamped down on her wrists, her finger clamping on the trigger. Luckily, the shot missed Loki by a mile, but he still looked momentarily surprised at the response. Max dropped the gun, her entire body shaking, and threw her arms around his neck.

"Are you okay?" she whispered. He exhaled sharply, one arm around her, a hand in her hair holding her to him.

"Of course I am."

"That's what you're supposed to ask me," she said, chuckling weakly. She was cold all over now, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand if she tried. Loki pulled her tighter to him, and they stayed crouched like that for some time, until Peter came to tell them that they were going home.

Sue stopped mid-stride, suddenly remembering that Franklin did not like dark chocolate. She glanced down at the bag in her hand, transparent to everyone else but herself, and then let out a lengthy sigh. Well, he would just have to make do: there wasn't time to run back now, and Sue's nerves were strung out enough as it were. She'd make muffins for him instead—she was sure there were some chocolate chips somewhere. Valeria could have her dark chocolate, which she said were infused with antioxidants, and Franklin could have as many muffins as he wanted during their movie night.

With the day of the strike looming, Sue wanted to spend as much time with the kids as she could. No matter the outcome of Saturday's attack on the city, everything was going to change. If they lost, they'd need to grab the kids and make a run for it—hopefully the island vacation home they had was still off the maps, though they were bound to be pursued as they left. If they won, there would be months of rebuilding to do around the city, and that was bound to fall to the heroes who helped get rid of the aliens in the first place.

There'd be no rest for quite some time. Therefore, Sue tried to make up for all the time she had missed these past few weeks. She had put the kids aside to work in the lab, something she hated doing, and then dumped them off on Max or Johnny or whoever when she needed to do household chores—no one else volunteered to do them, but that was to be expected. In fact, she was sure Franklin had spent more time with Loki in the last two weeks alone than he had with her, and that didn't sit well with Sue at all.

So, she offered an extravagant movie night for both of them over breakfast that morning—she even made Reed promise to attend. She knew her husband could use a few hours not working on serums and sprays and the like. Mercifully enough, Captain America's team had been able to take on the burden of making supplies for the other five boroughs, and the Baxter Tower was only responsible for creating enough serum for Manhattan. Still, the tension in the tower was palpable: Johnny came back from the sewers with good news, but there was still a lot of work to get through before Saturday.

She just wanted it to be over.

But she had to focus on the here and now: with Ben and Reed handling dinner, she had time to make muffins and put chips into bowls and set up the living room to be something cosy and kid-friendly. She'd let Franklin and Valeria stay up as late as their little hearts desired, just as long as she could have one on either side of her on the couch.

She resumed her march through Manhattan's street, which she noticed were a little less busy these days. The aliens must have known there were worthy opponents closing in: they were moving people out of Central Park (which Johnny and Ben intercepted and stopped yesterday), and they were trying to contact allies outside of the US, but Reed had figured out how to loop their signals back to the Baxter Tower—so, really, no one had heard their calls for reinforcements. Those in regular street clothes seemed oblivious to the danger, and Sue noted that they were more animated now than they were over a month ago—they learned to mimic quickly.

She came to a halt again when she noticed something horrifying. There were two uniformed soldiers plodding along the broken entryway to the Baxter Building. The visors on their helmets were up, and their guns hung loosely at their side. Sue crept closer, invisible and silent. Although her heart was pounding, she was steel: cold and hard, she moved with precision. She followed them through the broken glass, careful not to step on anything that would crunch, and into the destroyed lobby—Ben was a real artist.

They paused at the once shiny elevators, pressing the buttons and muttering to one another. Carefully, she set her grocery bag down, and then retrieved the pint-sized pepper spray container that Reed had designed specifically for her. She soon stood between them, lips pressed together firmly, and blasted each creature with a good spray to the face. They both fell to their knees immediately, hacking and dropping their guns—making a great deal of noise in the empty lobby. Glancing over her shoulder at the shattered windows, the torn furniture, the damaged walls, she entrapped both of them in an energy pocket, hiding them from the outside world.

It took them precisely three and a half minutes to die. She checked for a pulse in the neck, wrist, and sternum, and when she was sure they ceased to exist, she stuffed both of them into a utilities closet.

When all was said and done, Sue let out a shaky breath, her eyes closed to stem the tears from trailing down her cheeks. She really just wanted it to be over.

The humidity broke when the thunder started. It was like a crack of electricity shot through the city, and suddenly the winds turned cool, the rain refreshing. They were almost back to the tower when the water started to rise in the sewers, and Loki had offered to carry Max on his back, feeling as though he ought to at least ask, but she turned him down. She managed just fine on her own, and he suspected she had thought he might be babying her after the shooting incident—which wasn't the case, but he had been in no mood to bicker with her. Instead, he wanted to get into dry, clean clothing, preferably somewhere with some elevation. They had skulked around in the sewer and subway systems for the better part of the day, and Loki was done by the time the thunderstorm kicked in in the late afternoon.

Luckily enough, Ben and Reed had a dinner nearly ready by the time they returned and showered, and they were treated to a massive spread of hamburgers and homemade buns from Ben's ice box—fridge. The children had been especially happy with the meal, and Loki's patience wore even thinner as they squealed and hopped around the kitchen in anticipation. Max, on the other hand, had seemed nonplussed by the rambunctious energy, and dug in to a massive burger with gusto. In fact, she had eaten nearly as much as Loki had, and seemed quite happy when he volunteered to carry her upstairs afterward.

However, she promised to meet him there, saying that she ought to help with the dishes. And so, he found himself in their odd extra room on their floor. He had dragged the couch over to the window, and he sat in front of the torrential downpour, lost in the thoughts of the day. Men had cheered for him. Humans had flanked him as he charged at Pagurolids. They had clapped his shoulder and congratulated him, though those that did immediately shied away when they had realized just who they were touching.

Still, it was a change, and it was a change he wasn't particularly sure how to process. Should he be pleased to have small groups of humans appreciative of him all of a sudden? Should he welcome their revere or shun their familiarity? He crossed a leg over, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch, and then looked up when a bolt of lightning lit up the dark sky. It had been a number of weeks since the weather was this foul, and he wondered if the prisoners in Central Park faced any better conditions now than they did back then.

He squinted—it was damn near impossible to see the building across the street, save for the few blinking lights on the roof. The door to the stairwell opened slowly somewhere behind him, and he listened for Max's familiar footfalls. Moments later, she was in the room, and when he looked back, he saw she had a bottle in one hand and glasses in the other.

"Wine?" she offered, holding up the dark bottle and cocking her hip out. He grinned, making space for her on the couch once she sauntered over. "Reed and Sue were opening a bottle, and he asked if we wanted one too."

"How very thoughtful," Loki muttered. He watched her settle into the crook of his outstretched arm, her shoulder to his side, and then stuff a glass in his hand. He couldn't recall if he had ever tried the drink before, though when she popped the cork and started to pour the red liquid in his cup, he detected the alcohol through smell alone.

"The kids want to watch a bunch of movies tonight," Max continued as she poured a glass for herself, and then set the bottle down by their feet, "and I think they are on some kind of sugar high, because Reed looked like he was going to have a mental breakdown without a drink."

Perhaps he ought to take a firmer hand with his children then. Loki rolled his eyes a little before taking a sip, lips puckering at the sour taste that trickled down his throat. It wasn't awful, but he would have taken a stout ale over it any day. Max seemed to share his sentiment, and he laughed when her face wrinkled.

"I thought rich people would have better wine," she said, coughing a little, and Loki pressed a kiss to the side of her head for no other reason than sheer affection alone. "Ugh."

"I suppose we can appreciate the sentiment," he mused, his words spoken into her hair. She took a few more sips, and then settled, the glass clasped between her hands in her lap, legs crossed.

"It gets better the more you drink it."

"Good."

"I'm glad we're not in the sewers anymore," she said after a moment or so of relaxed silence. Thunder rumbled noisily overhead, and he could hear the windows rattle a little. "They must be so flooded."

"I suspect people will move into the subway lines," he told her. He stroked her hair, and then wove his fingers through the locks. He liked these fleeting moments of solitude with her, to be away from the rest of the tower with no possibility of an interruption. He liked to take advantage of those moments when he could. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss just below her ear—her skin prickled, little bumps dancing down her neck.

"Hopefully," she said, sounding very far away. She took another long sip of her drink, and when she finished, she sighed. "Hopefully nothing floods in the subway."

He stole her attention by tilting her head back, his arm wrapped around her, his finger beneath her chin, and hungrily pressed his lips to hers. The drink tasted much sweeter on her tongue than it had in the glass, and if he had a choice, this was how he would always consume wine—off her tongue, her lips. She returned his affections languidly, her hand running up and down his arm, her eyes closed, but not clenched. Her body wasn't tight this evening, and as he set his glass aside and let his free hand roam, he found no signs of tension or stress.

She was the one who broke away first, twisting her head just enough to get him off without wrenching away. He watched her finish the rest of her drink, and then place her cup on the ground next to the bottle.

"Can I ask you a question?" she started as he swooped in for another kiss, halting him just before he reached her lips. Loki frowned a little, feeling as though a trap had been sprung: the questions she brought up during intimacy were usually of a deeply personal nature, and there was always the possibility of offending her somehow. He leaned back into the corner of the small couch, their lower halves still touching, and then arched an eyebrow.

"Now?"

"Well, it just sort of… popped into my head," Max told him, fiddling with her fingers. "It's fine if you—"

"What, Max?" he sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips. She brightened up a little, oblivious to the slight edge to his tone, and then turned to face him completely, her legs pulled up to her chest. It took a bit of restraint not to let his eyes wander down to where her shorts stopped—quite high up her thighs, if he was being candid.

"Okay, so," she said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm, "I really like our sex life. Like… It's really great lately."

He stared at her for a moment. "Yes."

What else was he supposed to say? You're welcome? He licked his lips, uneasy with where the conversation might be going.

"And you're really good with your… your fingers," she said, her cheeks going a little pink. "I mean, I always have a good time."

"I'm aware," he remarked, watching as she tucked her hair behind her ears and nodded a few times.

"So, you're always very, uhm, generous with me." She took a small breath, which made Loki tense. "I was just wondering why you never let me return the favour?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at her, and he cleared his throat. "What?"

"Okay, so, you know, like in past relationships," she said, stumbling over her words, "I've usually… given my guy a blowjob during foreplay—"

"Ah." She wanted to use her mouth? Loki shifted uncomfortably at the thought. He had always thought the act was a little sordid, something done by wenches and serving girls in dark corners of dark hallways, and it would never be spoken of again. He had never pressed for her to do it because he had always considered her above such a task, but as she stared at him, waiting for more, he wasn't so sure at this point—and he disliked the feeling. "I see."

"So, do you…" She seemed to be using her hands to try to articulate what she was trying to say, though quite unsuccessfully. "Do you, you know, want me to do that?"

"I…" This was absurd. He had been alive for countless years, and yet he couldn't articulate whether he wanted his woman to use her mouth on him or not. His gaze hardened, and all he wanted to do was pull away from her and stand somewhere else—perhaps by the window, facing away from her. However, she held him there, her hand still on his arm and her eyes imploring. "I can't say I've ever given it much thought."

"Seriously?" She let out a short laugh when he huffed, and then inched closer. He watched her nibble her lip for a moment, waiting for him to go on still. "Don't guys always want that?"

"Max, I really haven't thought much about it." Clearly she had.

"Well, would you want it?" She walked two fingers up his arm, and he felt a small twinge of desire when she licked her lips and looked down at him. "I mean, I'm not terrible at it."

"Max." He practically groaned her name, and she seemed to take it as a sign of encouragement, though Loki wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't about to tell her why he hadn't ever shoved her head down there and sought pleasure. He'd done it to that girl in Masonville—what was her name? Erin? Irene? Erica? Something or another. Regardless, it simply hadn't meant anything.

Max suddenly shifted, straddling his waist and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His smile was uncomfortable at best, particularly when her hips settled over his waist.

"I mean, sex is about sharing and reciprocation," she added, "and I feel like I never really reciprocate."

"Oh, you do just fine," he assured her, tentatively setting his hands on her hips. She bucked them against him suddenly, and his lips tightened, his arousal growing. "Stop that."

"Why?" she whispered, head cocked to the side as she did it again—his lip twitched. "Isn't this where we were originally headed?"

No. If he had his way, he would have bent her over the arm of the couch and simply had her, listening to her helpless whimpers and cries for more. That was what he truly enjoyed about their coupling: his hands on her lovely legs, her breathy begging spurring him on. Loki had very little interest in shifting the attention solely to him.

Her kisses were hesitant at first, her hands in his hair and hips grinding against his. He could have easily rolled her over, taken charge, and he knew she would have enjoyed it. However, when she pulled away and ran his lips over his jawline, he knew she had other things in mind. He stiffened, unused to such attentions from a lover, and let his hands rest on her lower back. Surely all this was too much work.

"Relax," she whispered in his ear, a hand sliding down his chest.

"I'm fine," he replied tersely, to which she laughed—which made him chuckle. He let out a short breath when she unbuttoned his trousers, and then inhaled sharply when she gripped him. Up and down her hand went, running the full length of his hardening member as she kissed him properly again. He then watched her slide down his body, pressing her lips to his chest and stomach, until she settled between his knees. Their eyes met, and she placed a hand on his chest when he leaned forward, clearly knowing he planned to pick her up and put her back on the couch.

She couldn't have held him there, not even if she tried with all her might, but he could sense that her actions were purposefully, and he didn't want to upset her by disregarding them. Still, there were things he would have liked to do instead of lifting his hips a little to help her push his undergarments and trousers down his legs. He tilted his head back, eyes finding a spot on the ceiling to focus on, when she started to use her hands again—quite skillfully at that. It became easier and easier to relax under her ministrations, until he finally felt her warm lips around the tip of his shaft, and he hissed out a breath.

She hadn't lied when she said she wasn't terrible at this. Loki's hands clenched and unclenched as she teased him with her tongue, licking up and down and swirling around the head. What he liked best was when she used both her hands and her mouth: a hand pumping his stiff length while her lips and tongue worked over the tip. The feeling was divine—exquisite—and he couldn't quite remember why he hadn't asked for this before.

Well, no, he recalled the reasons, but they all seemed ridiculous when she took a little over half of him in her mouth. He stifled a groan, but it became harder and harder to keep his noises in the longer she worked him over. However, the longer they went, the less she used her mouth, and when he glanced down at her, he noticed her rubbing the side of her jaw.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired, hating the way his voice had a slight tremble to it. She looked up at him with a smirk, her hand continuing to pump him—tension building, muscles clenching.

"Your stupid big penis makes my mouth hurt," she told him, and Loki almost pushed her away, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. She giggled, however, and rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding… Sort of. It's fine."

"Oh."

"Really," she said, sitting up a little higher on her knees, her thumb grazing over his tip. It made him squirm, his abdomen twitching. "It's more than fine."

"Those were the… words that… I…." He swallowed down the rest of the sentence when she took him in her mouth again. His eyes rolled back, a hand now going to her hair, and he simply wanted more. His hips started to buck up, pushing himself into her mouth, greedy and desperate and searching for satisfaction. She took the treatment in stride: he half-expected her to pull away, shocked by his actions, and tell him off for treating her so crudely.

But she didn't. She worked with him until he couldn't last any longer, and his hand fisted so tightly in her hair when he finally came that she whimpered, yanking at his wrist. His discomfort started to return, and he loosened his hold as he finished in her mouth. It still felt sordid, but the pleasurable relaxation that swept through his limbs in the aftermath made it a little easier to cope with.

"Max," he started when she finally pulled away, her lips pressed together tightly. "Thank you for—"

She cut him off by raising a finger, getting up to her feet and darting around the couch. She had a hand hovering over her mouth, and he watched her rush around to the door.

And then stop abruptly when Franklin seemed to materialize out of nowhere in the doorway.

"Hi!" he said brightly, and Loki scrambled to cover himself properly, his reaction a little sluggish. "We're gonna watch movies all night."

"I know," Max said almost too brightly. "Sounds fun."

"You guys should come to," he said. "We're starting in ten minutes, and Uncle Johnny said to come get you."

Fucking… Johnny Storm. Loki huffed, catching his slightly disheveled reflection in the window when lightning struck again.

"Okay, we'll be down in a bit," Max told him. Satisfied, the boy disappeared shortly after telling her all the film titles he had in mind, and Max soon rejoined Loki on the couch. She took a quick swig of the wine straight from the bottle, swallowing it with a bit of a grimace.

"Were you… uncomfortable?" Loki asked, gesturing in the direction she took when she scuttled off moments earlier. "You… ran off—"

"I just wanted to spit," she admitted, sounding somewhat sheepish. "I… Just a preference, really."

"Oh." Yes, of course. His head was a mess—completely unfocused. "Of course."

"Did you… Did you like it?" she asked as Loki finished the rest of his glass of wine. He looked at her sharply after, trying to see if she was joking or not, and then nodded.

"Yes, yes, very much so."

"So, would you… want it more often?"

"As much as you're willing to give," he told her, zipping up his trousers and taking her hand when she offered it to him. She tugged him off the couch after, and as they walked slowly toward the stairwell, hand in hand, Loki noticed she was smiling. The gesture was somewhat infectious, though he tried to play down his satisfaction whenever she looked at him.

When they finally made it to the living room, he punched Johnny square on the arm, which made the man burst out laughing, completely unfazed by the look of contempt Loki gave him.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

So, I'm a little late this week, but I'm still on schedule! I actually did a lot of writing work on the two original projects I'm working on, this those really screwed over my wrists. Therefore, it was slow going to get this chapter done, but I managed!

I'm so happy that people are excited with the action portion of the plot too! I've got a number of Avengers-based moments coming up in the chapters leading to the big fight, so you can keep an eye out for those.

I decided I wanted to a Loki-centric sex scene like this because I pictured his discomfort with Max's modern-day female sexuality, particularly when I've written him as having limited meaningful sexual experiences in his life at that point. I also feel like so many books and TV shows and whatever play up the sexual experience a lot, but nobody ever brings up the awkward parts of it: talking about sex and what you like can throw some people for a loop. I've been with my boyfriend for nearly four years at this point, and even still there are times when I'm like "loool so that thing you do with your fingers is pretty neat" because I get weirded out by sex talk sometimes.

So. I guess the last scene was a bit of my weirdness coming in, and also my frustration that sex in books is all like "omg now that they are together it's the best sex ever and everything is perfect and they just intrinsically knowww what their partner wants and nobody has complaints and orgasms run wild and it'll be perfection foreevverrrr". I know books are supposed to be fantasy, an escape, but I personally like seeing a bit of realism—something I can point to and be like… yes, that's exactly what it's like sometimes.

Anyway. End rant about sex. I think I do it too much. Hopefully I'll get an update out soon, and I LOVE YOU ALL AND SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!

(PS: I added a public twitter to my account today, so you can follow me and my weirdness. The link is on my profile!)

(PPS: I'm actually super boring, so... You've been warned.)