“Oh please, Lady Summer,” Loki spoke into her hair, wrapping his arms around her, “do control yourself. Some dignity, please,” he laughed, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He felt a strange sense of calm flood through him as her crying stopped.
Summer couldn’t resist the relaxation of tense muscles as his arms went around her. Into his chest, she said, voice still choked, “When have you ever known me to be dignified, Loki? Didn’t all this start with play?”
Suddenly he was very aware of the way she was held against him. ”You are right, my Summer. Would you forgive me, just for now,” he slid his hands through her hair, relishing the softness as it slid between his fingers as he dragged them down her neck and back, “a moment of weakness?”
“Loki, I consider neither play nor emotion weakness.” His sudden desire rang in her head like a cascading chorus of bells. She let it ride through her body, and curled her hands against his chest, letting more of her weight rest against him. “Right now, just now, I will forgive you almost anything.
“Darling.” The endearment was low, pitched with meaning, unlike the careless southernisms she’d thrown around before.
“You have such a way with getting past my defences, Darling,” he purred, and materialized his armour over himself. ”Will you keep trying?” He nipped at her neck, the horn of the helmet grazing her cheek. ”Do keep trying.”
Cool metal interfered with her touch on him, and she pulled her hands away, startled into laughter. “Oh, cheater! /I/ can’t do that, why should you be allowed to?” Summer slipped both hands up under the edges of the heavy coat, trying to push it off his shoulders. “Besides,” she went on, eyes flicking up to meet his, “I don’t need the warrior, the god, the master of magic. Just you.”