Author Note: I'm so glad the last chapter got such good feedback. I was a little nervous throwing in something mildly smutty so early into the story. But, seriously, who could resist a hot and heavy make-out session with Loki? And we're continuing with the smut this chapter...so...
Warning: This chapter contains sex! (This is rated M for a reason…)
Enjoy! And please read and review. It means the world to me.
"So when are you going come see my art?" John asked, leaning against the checkout counter, examining an expensive Mars Volta record that had just come in.
It had been almost a month since the first night he had stayed at Alice's apartment and it was becoming something of a habit for him. At least once a week, he woke up on her couch, or, better yet, cuddled up next to her. And yet, he still couldn't convince her to come over and see his art. He had the suspicion that she was a little intimidated by his apartment building, though she would never admit it.
This bothered him a bit. He had spent almost every day with her since their first meeting. Many late nights had been spent at her apartment, pouring his heart out to her, telling her about his life before he met her. He told her about his month in the hospital, about the doctors that had tried to help him regain his memory, about Trudy, the little old lady who had taken him in for six months and inspired him to paint, and how she had given him the money to move to Chicago after his career really started to take off. He told her about his dreams, about the magical land full of warriors and gods and the purple sky.
And yet, after all of that, she still avoided going over to his apartment like the plague. Though he cared for her deeply, it was really starting to annoy him.
"I don't know," she shrugged, plucking the record from his hands. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"You always say that," he persisted. "Why not tonight?"
"Because…"
"Because she always has an excuse," Heather muttered as she brushed past John to get behind the counter.
John liked Heather. She was a great friend to Alice and she was honest. The moment they first met, he knew Heather was Alice's kind of girl. Her honesty knew no bounds and she was very proud of that fact. Also, she and Alice had this strange sister-like bond that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. They finished each other's sentences and hung on each other like a couple. Alice referred to Heather as her "other half". Sometimes it felt like Heather was more of a boyfriend to Alice than he was.
"I know she does," he grumped.
"Can you please not talk about me like I'm not here?" Alice hissed.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed. "But it's true. You always have an excuse not to see my work."
"I saw the piece in the coffee shop," she volunteered defensively.
"Yes because I dragged you there. And it wasn't even my usual work. It was commissioned."
"Just stop making excuses and go to his house, Al," Heather scolded.
"It's no pressure," John lied. "I just want you to see my art."
It was as if he could see Alice's conviction waver. Frowning, she sighed.
"I'll come over after work," she decided.
Trying not to seem too smug, he simply smiled and thanked her.
"I'll see you around 8," she begrudgingly promised.
"I look forward to it," he smirked, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "But now I have to go do some work of my own."
Despite the fact he could practically feel Alice glaring at him as he left, he was incredibly excited to have her finally come over.
It was an unusually sunny day for Chicago and if it weren't for the giant backlog of work he had to do, it would have been the perfect day for a walk. As it was, he had two commissions to complete before noon the following day.
Though he wouldn't have traded his time with Alice for the world, since meeting her, he really hadn't concentrated on his work. The only chance he really had to paint happened on the rare nights he didn't spend at her apartment.
As it was, he currently had about 8 hours before the shop closed, which gave him plenty of time to work. The coffee shop that had purchased some of his previous work was looking for something to display at their annual "birthday bash" and the art institute wanted to display some of his work in their gallery, which was a huge honor. He was supposed to submit a portfolio of samples they could use, and he had yet to really do anything for it.
And on top of all of that, Alice had offered to pay him to do something for her to put in the shop. Though he had assured her he would do it for free, he still had no idea what to paint, let alone when he would have time to do it.
The workload felt mildly overwhelming as he entered the mostly immaculate apartment. He wasn't really very messy to begin with, but hardly ever being home really helped in keeping the place spotless.
Leaving his keys on the counter, he went to the bedroom to change into some painting clothes. An oversized blue button up and pair of khaki shorts were already covered in acrylic, so he threw them on and retreated to his art room.
A sigh of relief escaped him when he entered well-lit spare bedroom in which he did all of his work. Despite the clutter of art supplies, it was a spacious room, which he found helped his creative flow.
The skeleton of the painting he had started for the coffee shop was sitting on the first easel, the color palette the owner of the shop had picked next to it.
"This is going to clash so badly with the one I did last month," he grumbled, and decided to ignore the piece for the time being.
Next in line was a mostly finished piece that was meant for his collection. It was one of his dreamscapes. A violently colorful bridge that appeared to be made out of rainbow reached across a vast sea, ending in a cascading waterfall. It seemed so familiar to him, as his dreams always did, and it caused a longing tug in his gut as he stared at it.
"I think I'll finish you," he decided.
After gathering paint and a few different brushes, he pulled up a stool and set to work.
Hours passed, the final touches on the rainbow bridge long since finished. He had moved on to a new piece, one that had sprang to mind shortly after finishing the previous. It was the purple sky that overlooked his dreamland. But this time it was filled with odd planets and nebulas, and all of them looked angry in their majesty. They were darker than it seemed they should have been and rimmed with a fiery glow, glaring down on the little land that he had created.
And in the middle of it all, a black hole pulsed, threatening to draw in everything around it. For some reason, it hurt him to look at it, the emptiness of the black hole making him unexplainably sad. In the midst of that sadness there was also anger, a fury that forced him to concentrate on this piece and only this. It felt as if the black hole would suck him in forever if he didn't finish what he started.
He lost himself in that painting and would have stayed in front of the easel all night if it hadn't been for buzz of the doorbell.
Suddenly realizing that Alice had finally arrived, he quickly wiped some of the paint off his hands onto his shirt, sprinting down the hall to unlock the door.
"Sorry," he sighed as he let her into the apartment a moment later. "I was…distracted."
Smirking, Alice took in the sight of him in his work clothes.
"I can see that," she chuckled. "Forget I was coming?"
"More like lost track of time," he shrugged. "Are you hungry?"
"A bit. Don't you want to show me your work first?"
His stomach gave an angry rumble as he realized he hadn't eaten anything all day.
"It can wait," he insisted. "We should make dinner. I'm starving."
John's apartment was huge. He had given her a quick tour while they waited for dinner to cook and Alice was absolutely stunned. It had the same number of rooms that hers did, but each room seemed ten times bigger. The kitchen was huge, boasting granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. Everything seemed shiny and new, like he had barely used it in the half year he had lived there. A gas log fireplace was in the living room, giving off a cozy feel. Alice imagined that once winter rolled around, they would spend many a night in front of that fireplace.
"This is fantastic," Alice gushed as she peaked into the bedroom at the massive bed. "And you just lived here alone all this time?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "I spend most of my time in the art room anyway."
"Can I see it?"
"After dinner."
Rolling her eyes, Alice resigned herself to waiting.
As they passed through the living room, she noticed a few pieces of art that she assumed were his. They depicted a beautiful castle, which seemed to be made of gold. It was glittering in the light of a bright sun, which was surrounded by planets. It was beautiful and unlike anything she had ever seen. When she asked him about them, he simply smirked.
"You'll see soon enough, darling," he continued to assure her. It was annoying her to no end.
Soon she was distracted by dinner, John having cooked some fantastic spaghetti. For as much as he loved take-out, the man seemed to have a natural gift in the kitchen. Though she was incredibly humbled by how beautiful his home was; it wasn't quite as intimidating as she had feared it would be. Nothing in the apartment was too fancy or expensive looking (other than the apartment itself), and it had a certain comfortable air that she greatly enjoyed.
"So this isn't the only time you're coming over?" he asked, enjoying the annoyed look she gave him.
"It depends on how good your paintings are," she teased. "If they suck I'll have to stay away out of respect for my artistic eye."
"I like to think you'll find them quite pleasing to your…artistic eye," he winked.
"I'll be the judge of that," she said, getting to her feet. "If you keep avoiding showing me, I'm just going to assume it doesn't exist."
Laughing, he gave in.
"Fine," he sighed, also standing. "We can start in here. That one is mine."
It was the one that Alice had previously assumed he'd done. The big castle under the foreign stars, just as he had described when telling her about his dreams. Part of her couldn't believe that it was his work, not because she doubted his talent, but because she couldn't believe someone so talented had taken interest in her.
"It's beautiful," she praised, going over to examine it more closely.
"I know," he agreed, though it didn't sound like he was trying to be egotistical. It was almost as if he himself couldn't believe that he had done it.
"Are there more like this?" she inquired, her fingers ghosting over the outline of the castle.
"Oh yes," he replied. "Follow me."
Taking her hand, he led her to the spare room. A small gasp escaped her as he opened the door and she caught her first glance at the room. It was huge for a spare room, the walls a dazzling white, tinted pink by the sunset that was streaming in the bay window. At least six easels stood about the room, some of them housing blank canvases, others proudly displaying finished pieces.
The walls were also lined with paintings, most of them finished. Near the window stood a long desk, on which there was an impressive collection of acrylics.
"Wow," she breathed as she attempted to process what she was seeing. "Holy shit, John. This is amazing!"
"It's not that great," he shrugged, but she was having none of it.
"The rainbow bridge is so fantastic!" she insisted, pointing at the one he had finished earlier. "It reminds me of the bifrost."
The word struck a chord with him, seeming familiar, though he knew not why.
"The what?" he inquired.
"Norse mythology," she shrugged. "It was a bridge that connected the realms. Not important."
She moved about the room, excitedly chattering about her favorite pieces.
"This is beautiful!" she gushed. "This one with the black hole is absolutely devastating to look at. You can see all the happiness and color around the void being sucked in. It's like this big soulless monster…"
A shaky breath escaped him, making her glance in his direction. He looked absolutely devastated as he stared at the painting, as if the black hole was sucking him in too.
"John?" she whispered, putting a hand on his cheek. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he nodded, looking away from the painting. "Just…I'm glad you like it."
There was still a distance in his eyes, warranting a quick kiss to bring him back to reality. Smiling, he looked her squarely in the eyes, laughing as he gave her a quick kiss in return.
"You really like it, don't you?" he grinned.
"It's fantastic!" she assured him emphatically.
Smirking, he pulled her closer and kissed her fiercely. A little thrill coursed through her and she returned the kiss passionately. His fingers gripped her hair, the pressure of his kiss forcing her against the wall. The weight of his body pressed against her and she allowed him to dominate her as his lips ravaged hers.
Playfully, she nipped at his lower lip and he groaned into her mouth. That sound alone was nearly her undoing. She wanted him, wanted to be fucked senseless right there against that wall. As his kisses trailed to her jaw, she decided she had waited long enough.
She was going to have him.
With shaking hands, she undid the first few buttons of his shirt.
"What are you doing?" he whispered against her skin, his kisses coming to a sudden halt.
"I'm taking off your shirt," she replied matter of factly.
"I realize that, love. I suppose the proper question is why?"
"Because I'm going to fuck you senseless."
His entire body tensed and he simply stared at her for a long moment. It made her feel suddenly awkward, as though she had misjudged him and her advances weren't actually welcome.
However, the moment his lips came crashing against hers, she knew that she had said just what he wanted to hear. The kiss startled her hands back into motion and soon his shirt was on the floor, her own following it shortly. A nimble hand undid the clasp on her bra and it too fell away. For a moment he paused, staring hungrily at her breasts.
"Oh, my dear, you are perfect," he sighed.
She felt as thought she should thank him or something, but all thoughts were pushed aside by the sensation of his mouth on her neck and his hands sliding from her shoulders downward. Thumbs grazed her nipples, making her gasp in pleasure. He smirked against her skin, his hands continuing their downward endeavor, until his hands found her ass and he hoisted her upward.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she ground her hips against his. Through his shorts, she could feel his erection. It made her wet just thinking about the feeling of him inside of her. Again she pressed herself against him, but he simply shook his head, giving her a devilish grin.
"Patience, darling," he muttered, beginning to kiss his way down her chest. "We'll get there soon enough. In the meantime, I think we're in the wrong room for this."
She clung to him as he carried her into the bedroom, giggling as he dropped her onto the bed.
"If I'm going to ravage you I need use of my hands," he smirked.
"What f-"
The question turned into a moan as his mouth latched on to her nipple, teeth tugging at the skin before he ran his tongue over it again. Fingers lightly pinched at the other before his mouth was there to give it equal attention.
"Fuck," she muttered, burying her fingers deep in his dark locks. "You're torturing me."
"Oh no, darling," he smirked. "I haven't even begun to torture you yet."
There was a mischievous look in his eyes that she had never seen before. It was fucking sexy, and made her even hotter for him. Her insides felt as if they were dancing as he undid the button of her jeans, and in one swift motion pulled them off, along with her panties.
"I didn't actually mean to do that," he mused. "But I suppose they were next to go anyway."
Leaning over her, he kissed her tenderly, his hand running up her thigh and settling teasingly over her mound. Whimpering, she bucked her hips, begging him to touch her. That damned smirk never left his lips as he flicked a finger over her clit, making her gasp and squirm.
"You like that, do you?" he teased. "How about this?"
Again his finger found her clit, this time lingering there and rubbing little circles. Gasping, she arched at his touch, no longer feeling in control of her body. She wanted- no- needed him inside of her. All of the time spent waiting for this had built up enough sexual frustration, and now here he was teasing her with these fleeting touches. It was driving her absolutely insane.
"So anxious," he drawled. "And so…sensitive. Tell me, darling, how does this feel?"
Two fingers dove inside her and she cried out in pleasure, fists gripping the comforter. For what seemed like hours he just pulsed there, eyes boring into hers. Finally, he pulled out slowly and shoved back in.
"Oh god," she groaned as he increased his pace.
"John, actually," he said, grinning like the devil incarnate.
"John," she panted, moving her hips in rhythm with his fingers.
Her core started to twist, insides tightening as her climax drew closer and her moans grew louder. Just as she felt she was about to explode, he stopped. Unintentionally, she whimpered, hips trying to follow his fingers as he pulled out.
"Don't stop!" she insisted.
"Good things come to those who wait, love," he winked, undoing his belt buckle. "And I think we've both waited long enough."
Pants and boxers dropped to the floor and she took in his naked form. He was thin, though obviously not unhealthy. Tight muscles were visible beneath his smooth, pale flesh. To her very pleasant surprise, he was very well endowed, his erection standing rock hard at attention. Just looking at him like that sent excited shivers down her spine.
"Are you ready, darling?" he prompted, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself on top of her.
She simply nodded in response.
"Good."
In one swift movement he entered her, filling her as deeply as he could.
"Alice," he groaned, gripping her hips. "You are so wonderfully tight."
The moan she gave in response seemed to please him and he began slamming into her at a desperate pace. It felt as though she had lost control of her vocal chords, each exhale became a sound of pleasure as he ravaged her. Gripping his shoulders, she attempted to keep pace with him.
Suddenly John growled, pinning her arms above her head. His eyes were burning with intensity as he continued to pound into her.
"Tell me you're mine, Alice," he demanded, his voice darker than usual. "Tell me I rule you."
Though she found this odd, she felt she had no right to judge. Maybe dominance was his kink. Honestly, that was pretty sexy.
"Yes," she panted, matching his every thrust. "I'm yours."
"Louder," he hissed, gripping her wrists tighter. "Let the heavens know who your king is."
"I'm yours, John," she screamed as her orgasm hit.
Waves of pleasure took her so hard that her vision blurred. His climax soon followed, a moan escaping him as his hips slowed and he nearly collapsed onto her, sweat beading on his forehead.
For a moment they lay there, breathing hard and covered in sweat. With a deep contented sigh, he rolled off of her and onto his back.
"You are fantastic," he ginned, taking her into his arms.
She hummed in response, cuddling up next to him.
"I've waited so long for that," he said, pulling her close.
"Was it worth it?" she mumbled, unable to get her voice above a low whisper. Her vocal chords ached from screaming so loud.
"More than worth it," he chuckled, brushing some of the hair off her face. "I love you, Alice."
"I love you too, John."
And, to her surprise, she realized she absolutely meant it.