The edge to his voice isn’t entirely annoyance when he replies. “How should I *gasp* know? You do what you like, call the shots, how’s that?” Grabbing at Loki’s shoulders, he precludes an answer by drawing the other into a fierce kiss.

With a growl, Loki breaks the kiss. “As you wish. I am not the most gentle of lovers, at times, and was simply giving you the benefit of deciding how you wanted it.”

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The swearing begins almost immediately. Head thrown back, hands scrabbling at the sheets, desperately trying to decide whether to hold stock still or writhe under Loki’s tongue. The feeling of being enclosed, rather than enclosing, is more than a little different that he’d ever imagined in his wildest flights of fancy. Teeth clenched, he manages, “It’s considered bad if I spill too soon, right? ‘N this,” punctuated by a sharply-drawn breath, “you can do to me if you’re female. Please be female. Ogods!”