I stretch luxuriously, fully conscious of Loki’s eyes on me. His face is very appreciative, and I don’t think he realises he’s licking his lips. I give him a roguish smile and ask, “Seeing something you like?”

“Oh, yes,” he breathes, advancing on me. I laugh, scrambling backward, and turning a fall off the bed into a quick roll that brings me to my feet. The wide bed lies spread between us. Loki’s smile acquires a predatory edge as I bite my lip and fade back to the wall. Slowly, he leans forward, planting his hands on the edge of the bed. “How far will you run, my Synne?”

“Oh, not far,” I tell him, using one of his own tricks and leaving a fetch in my place. Invisibility is a specialty of my own, and I use it now to slip around behind him into the wider part of the room. I don’t like seeing myself from outside, but the amusement of this game is more than worth the slight discomfort. A caress of my fingers becomes a brush of air against Loki’s cheek as he reaches out to my fetch.

Laughter gives away my location as his head whips around, shorter hair swinging around his face. I drop the invisibility and dart behind the huge wooden fire-settle, still giggling. The speed of his lunge across the room takes me by surprise, and before I can respond he has me by the shoulders, gazing down into my face.

As ever, his sheer presence serves to steal my breath away. All our merriment falls away as we look at each other, stillness closing around like a cloak. I cherish these moments, the warmth in his green eyes as they rove my face, the soft brush of his fingers pushing the hair out of my eyes, the parting of his lips just before he leans down to kiss me.

We have learnt to slow the frantic edge of our need, drawing time out slow as honey with teasing. His fingers, long and supple, thread into my curls, cradling the back of my head. I let my tongue trace the edge of his lip, taunting. I do not taunt long before his kisses become more demanding, teeth biting at my mouth. I whine, low in my throat, and scrape my nails on the bones behind his ears. His hands run down along my spine to wrap my waist, bringing a shudder to my body.

Loki lifts me, and I love his strength, trailing gentler kisses, tiny and soft like kitten toes, all over my face. I let my head fall back, and he takes the implied invitation to my throat, drawing his lips along to the pulse there. He licks it, and I shudder again. “Synne,” he whispers against my throat.

“Loki,” I say back, slow and languorous. I pull forward and lean my forehead against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him.

“You are amazing,” he murmurs, and I smile.

“I love you,” I tell his shoulder hesitantly. The jolt as my feet hit the floor is startling, but not as much as the dramatic pressure of Loki’s mouth on mine. He is crushing me in his arms, a desperation in his touch that has been absent these long months. I can barely breathe for the passionate fervour of these kisses. Before I know what is happening, he’s swept my feet from under me and has laid me out on the bearskin, still kissing me. A swift half-second brush of his hand has me nude beneath him.

I open my mouth to speak, and one long hand closes over it. For once, obedient, I fall silent. He lifts his hand, gazing down on me. “Stay you there and wait for me.” I turn my hands out in acquiescence. He rises over me, tall and dark and slender and everything I dream of, and begins very deliberately to remove his garb by hand. I have to clench my nails into my palms to keep from moving, from simply tumbling him to the floor with me.

Each inch of pale skin revealed is more tempting than the last. The way Loki smiles at me, I know he knows my thought. Finally, finally, he is unclothed, and kneels back over me, splaying his hands over my hips. He gives me my favourite sly smile, and with tantalising patience slips one long finger into me. I cannot restrain a gasp, and Loki’s chuckle answers me. He takes his time, first one finger, then two, and three, paying attention to the small bud of flesh between my thighs, pulling me to the edge and letting me slide back.

This is a new form, but now I recognise the game, same as it has ever been. He pushes, I resist, until one of us gives in. I know he will win this round, but the play is in how long I may hold out against him. I give Loki a challenging smile, daring him onward.

He pushes my thighs apart now, settling between them, and I admire the smooth flow of his muscles as he leans down to replace fingers with tongue. I’m only left to feel the loss of fulfillment for a moment before his hands are back at their work, drawing me upward to dizzying heights. Over and over, until I give in and plead, “Loki, please, I need you.”

His answering laughter against my skin is nearly enough, until his sudden absence draws me back yet again. I am writhing desperately beneath him, letting my whole body beg for release. The yearning is so very strong I am reduced to whispering, “Please,” under my breath.

The pleasure and relief is utterly indescribable as soon as he sheathes himself in me. The breath is driven out of my body yet again. I can hear it in his groan when he comes to rest deep within my body, burying his face in my neck. “Permission to move?” I say, low, and he nods.

Some things, I have learnt in our time together, and one of them is the way of caressing him within me without need of great external motion. I clasp him tight, and it occurs to me that I could return the favour he paid me, drawing things out, but my own eagerness overrides that thought. I roll my hips, liquid and just enough to keep us spiralling upward into bliss, and take my climax at the moment Loki gasps my name, like a prayer.