Tag Archives: chaosmustbemaintained

Silhouette (happy birthday to chaosmustbemaintained!)

The silhouette was always sharply etched against the New York skyline. Tony didn’t know how he actually got up there; he’d never seen the other man fly on his own. A small, traitorous part of his mind whispered, he didn’t /want/ to know.

The other Avengers knew not to disturb him right now; he’d overheard Clint, once, jokingly refer to it as ‘his time of the month,’ before being glared into silence by Natasha. Compared to other things, this was a harmless indulgence. Compared.

Horns, against the night sky.

Loki always vanished his armour before he came inside, though. He wore it on arrival, like a calling card, like a knock, silent announcement of his presence. Silent, so he could be ignored by all.

Except Tony.

It had begun with a drink, but what didn’t, for Tony? Even he didn’t know, now, what he’d expected when he offered. Not this, surely.

This. What was this? Frenzied coupling, drunken and sloppy with suppressed need and guilty desire? Slow, sober kisses traded like candy, spiced with caressing words? Light banter, volleyed back and forth with all the intensity of a tennis match, until one of them broke into helpless laughter?

Twice a moon, dark and full. In the shadows of Loki’s hair, in the brightness of Tony’s arc reactor, they came together, unable to resist each other. Drawn and clashing, all sharp edges and wit; they never spoke of it outside these nights; never let it affect them outside this room.

It had begun with mischief, but what didn’t, for Loki? Even he didn’t know, now, what he’d expected when he’d done it. Not this, surely.

/This/ was Tony’s fingers, calloused and grease-stained, shaping designs of desire against Loki’s hips, pressing them together while they tried to mold into one being. /This/ was Loki’s tongue, silver for more than words, jarring Tony’s senses out of the usual courses until the world crashed back together in jagged pieces. This was Loki’s wickedly accurate and merely mortal mimicry of the voice and mannerisms of everyone they’d both ever met, from Thor to Maria Hill, from Omega Red to Mandarin, while Tony literally rolled on the floor from laughing. This was Tony rambling his way through a techno-science description of the universe, with Loki inserting sardonic corrections and addenda until Tony put a hand over his mouth.

It was chinese takeout and trying to cook for each other; it was good books and bad movies; it was video games and and sniggering like schoolboys as they blew things up in the lab. Sometimes it was quiet cuddling of the other through flashbacks and remembered pain, or dominance play and ego measuring.

It was never, ever boring.

Starfall

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

He turned his head at her voice and was met by her beautiful eyes. He stared hard at her, looking for the vilification, the doubt, the blame but found only… sympathy. Was it sympathy? Was it damnable pity? Was it regret at having made his acquaintance the night before?

Her words spoke volumes and made his heart ache as the hope violently rekindled itself, refusing to die.

He swallowed hard.

Oh, this man! Why did he tug at her heart so? Barely a day since they met, and she wanted to shield him from all the slings and arrows of a cruel universe. But he was proud, so proud. She thought perhaps even offering would wound that pride. Even speaking her sympathy would hurt him more.

Trying to keep her breathing calm, her bearing open, she returned him look for look under the stars, and hoped the darkness would conceal the desperate clenching of her hands in her lap. Patience. Let him come to her.

The moonlight gave Sigyn an ethereal glow and Loki couldn’t hold back any longer. Whether she was real or not, he would satisfy this small tendril of hope, if only for tonight. He would take the axe, the despair, later. Tonight he would give himself the sweetest lie.

He reached up, caressing her cheek gently. When she didn’t pull away, he turned to her and pulled her in for a kiss, his second hand coming up to wrap itself around the other side of her face, his fingers softly playing in her hair.

Loki’s kiss, the subtle shift of mood, nearly took Sigyn by surprise. Even here, in the one place in Asgard she felt most at home, to be desired was out of her ken. Nevertheless, she surrendered helplessly to his mouth, to the feel of his hands on her skin, twining her arms about his neck.

Her tongue begged entrance to his mouth, and delicate fingers wound themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, sliding beneath his collar.

Loki gave a soft growl of desire and deepened the kiss. Lie or no, it felt exquisite to have her in his arms so willing. He pushed himself up, running one hand down Sigyn’s back to her waist and the other grasping the back of her head, pulling her in closer.

Fire traced each separate nerve in her body when Loki pulled her close. Her head spun, and she clung to him, drawing his lip into her kiss and setting gentle teeth into it. More kisses, more and yet more, until at last she had to turn her head away and gasp for breath. “My lord, why do you torment me so?” she whispered helplessly.

A noise of protest escaped his lips when she pulled away and he looked into her eyes, his pupils dilated making his green eyes almost all black. “Torment?” he whispered back with a soft laugh, “Torment makes the pleasure that… much… more… potent…” He punctuated the last few words with gentle kisses.

Loki pulled her head back around reclaiming her mouth. He guided them both to the ground, one hand behind her head, the other running fingertips along her side, around the curve of ass and down her thigh. 

All the fine hairs on her body stood up as Loki’s hand ran lower, and Sigyn’s mouth worked in the kiss, trying to articulate what she wanted. She wanted to climb into his skin with him, merge into one being; she wanted fulfillment of a desire so powerful it was almost painful. Deprived of voice by his kiss, she managed a pale whimper, and clawed her fingers in his hair, shaping the fine bones of his skull with her fingertips.

Loki tightened his grip in Sigyn’s hair and pulled back exposing her neck. He kissed along her jaw and nibbled his way lazily down to her collarbone. He pushed his hips against her, rocking into her as he let out a growl in anticipation of that same motion but with skin on skin.

“Please, my lord, oh please,” Sigyn whispered, not even aware of what she was saying, body prisoned by Loki, head arced back. His body >against her body; she wanted to touch every inch of his skin. Pleasure/pain thrilled her nerves like angelsong. Her fingertips caressed his hair, splayed down onto his back, curled in as if she could simply reach through his clothing to the flesh she so desired.

He sat up tugging at his jacket. He got one arm out and immediately returned it to Sigyn’s face as he bent back over kissing her again and again. He tried to shake the jacket off his other hand and made a desperate sound as it stuck around his forearm.

Ah, there, this was familiar, this she could do. Blindly reaching, Sigyn gently tugged Loki’s ornate jacket off his arm, trying to break away enough to simply lay it aside, rather than toss it carelessly. That done, she put a hand out to his chest, pressing softly into the fabric there. In the dim light, her blush was invisible, but she still could not look him in the eyes. “M-my lord, I — you will have to tell me what to do.”

Loki sat back again and brought one hand to his chest, pressing gently over Sigyn’s and wrapping his fingers around. He felt the heat beneath the back of his other hand as he softly ran it down her face, he tenderly took her chin and turned her face so he could look in her eyes. He gave her a smile and kissed her, softly, slowly, trying to reassure her that all would be well.

Under the sweetness of that kiss, Sigyn melted. Hesitantly, she raised her free hand to just barely touch Loki’s face, wishing she were not so afraid. So light, she traced the hollows of his cheek, brushed his temple, slid a thumb behind his jaw. ‘This is correct?’ she asked, wordlessly, letting that hand slip down his throat to the base.

Starfall

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

He turned his head at her voice and was met by her beautiful eyes. He stared hard at her, looking for the vilification, the doubt, the blame but found only… sympathy. Was it sympathy? Was it damnable pity? Was it regret at having made his acquaintance the night before?

Her words spoke volumes and made his heart ache as the hope violently rekindled itself, refusing to die.

He swallowed hard.

Oh, this man! Why did he tug at her heart so? Barely a day since they met, and she wanted to shield him from all the slings and arrows of a cruel universe. But he was proud, so proud. She thought perhaps even offering would wound that pride. Even speaking her sympathy would hurt him more.

Trying to keep her breathing calm, her bearing open, she returned him look for look under the stars, and hoped the darkness would conceal the desperate clenching of her hands in her lap. Patience. Let him come to her.

The moonlight gave Sigyn an ethereal glow and Loki couldn’t hold back any longer. Whether she was real or not, he would satisfy this small tendril of hope, if only for tonight. He would take the axe, the despair, later. Tonight he would give himself the sweetest lie.

He reached up, caressing her cheek gently. When she didn’t pull away, he turned to her and pulled her in for a kiss, his second hand coming up to wrap itself around the other side of her face, his fingers softly playing in her hair.

Loki’s kiss, the subtle shift of mood, nearly took Sigyn by surprise. Even here, in the one place in Asgard she felt most at home, to be desired was out of her ken. Nevertheless, she surrendered helplessly to his mouth, to the feel of his hands on her skin, twining her arms about his neck.

Her tongue begged entrance to his mouth, and delicate fingers wound themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, sliding beneath his collar.

Starfall

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Sigyn listened silently, letting her hands play up and down his spine while he talked. Dusk deepened to true night before he finished, and the little valley was hushed with the sounds of darkness. When Loki trailed off finally, she gently freed herself from his hold and stepped over to the stream.

It was the work of just a moment to fashion a cup from a borrowed leaf. “Drink, my lord,” she said softly, holding it out. There was something else in his past, she could sense it in the way he had stopped, but that would keep for another time. She understood, now, his constant tension, his amazement at her responses, and yet she could not help but feel sympathy for him, struggling so hard to be … what?

To live up to others’ expectations? How familiar a feeling, that.

“My prince, these are painful memories. Will you not put them aside for now?” she asked, voice soft.

He felt a little vulnerable when she pulled away from his arms. His mind raced. Had he said too much? Did she judge him unworthy by his past actions? Would she shun him now, as the others had? He clenched his jaw and cursed that small flame of hope that had been allowed to take root in his heart. Here was the let down. He should have expected this.

When Sigyn offered him the water, he took it, glad for the opportunity to wet his lips. He nodded silently at her words and turned away from her bringing his knees up to his elbows. He looked up into the stars again and wondered when she would drop the final axe. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later so he could carry on and chalk this up to an unfortunate lapse in judgement.

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

He turned his head at her voice and was met by her beautiful eyes. He stared hard at her, looking for the vilification, the doubt, the blame but found only… sympathy. Was it sympathy? Was it damnable pity? Was it regret at having made his acquaintance the night before?

Her words spoke volumes and made his heart ache as the hope violently rekindled itself, refusing to die.

He swallowed hard.

Oh, this man! Why did he tug at her heart so? Barely a day since they met, and she wanted to shield him from all the slings and arrows of a cruel universe. But he was proud, so proud. She thought perhaps even offering would wound that pride. Even speaking her sympathy would hurt him more.

Trying to keep her breathing calm, her bearing open, she returned him look for look under the stars, and hoped the darkness would conceal the desperate clenching of her hands in her lap. Patience. Let him come to her.

Starfall

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Tucking her head under Loki’s chin, Sigyn carefully stroked his back, humming softly under her breath. As his muscles loosened, soothing strokes morphed into lazy tracing of the bones under his skin, and she sighed longingly. The falling light, so similar to her own magic, made her feel safe, at peace, and a little bold.

“My lord?” she whispered against his throat. “Will you not tell me what troubles you so?”

Loki sat silently for a moment, then started to relay his tale to Sigyn. He kept his eyes on the night sky, voice low, arms around her and breath as even as he was able.

He told her of Thor’s coronation day and the disaster that came from his ruse to wreck the day. He tried to tell her he had not wanted things to turn out as they had, but had trouble articulating the feelings. He told her of the destruction of the bifrost, the last words his father had spoken to him and his voice trailed off.

He swallowed hard against the memories of the Abyss and shook his head. He could not speak of it. The horrors of that time were still too painful, too real. He relived them when he had an unguarded moment and he wandered into that part of his mind where he had tried to bury the memories.

He shifted slightly and let out another sigh.

Sigyn listened silently, letting her hands play up and down his spine while he talked. Dusk deepened to true night before he finished, and the little valley was hushed with the sounds of darkness. When Loki trailed off finally, she gently freed herself from his hold and stepped over to the stream.

It was the work of just a moment to fashion a cup from a borrowed leaf. “Drink, my lord,” she said softly, holding it out. There was something else in his past, she could sense it in the way he had stopped, but that would keep for another time. She understood, now, his constant tension, his amazement at her responses, and yet she could not help but feel sympathy for him, struggling so hard to be … what?

To live up to others’ expectations? How familiar a feeling, that.

“My prince, these are painful memories. Will you not put them aside for now?” she asked, voice soft.

He felt a little vulnerable when she pulled away from his arms. His mind raced. Had he said too much? Did she judge him unworthy by his past actions? Would she shun him now, as the others had? He clenched his jaw and cursed that small flame of hope that had been allowed to take root in his heart. Here was the let down. He should have expected this.

When Sigyn offered him the water, he took it, glad for the opportunity to wet his lips. He nodded silently at her words and turned away from her bringing his knees up to his elbows. He looked up into the stars again and wondered when she would drop the final axe. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later so he could carry on and chalk this up to an unfortunate lapse in judgement.

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

Starfall

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.” 

Sigyn’s words washed over him like a soft, comfortable wave of relief. He let out a gentle sigh and continued to hold her as the sun went down and twilight set in, bringing out the first stars of the night.

Tucking her head under Loki’s chin, Sigyn carefully stroked his back, humming softly under her breath. As his muscles loosened, soothing strokes morphed into lazy tracing of the bones under his skin, and she sighed longingly. The falling light, so similar to her own magic, made her feel safe, at peace, and a little bold.

“My lord?” she whispered against his throat. “Will you not tell me what troubles you so?”

Loki sat silently for a moment, then started to relay his tale to Sigyn. He kept his eyes on the night sky, voice low, arms around her and breath as even as he was able.

He told her of Thor’s coronation day and the disaster that came from his ruse to wreck the day. He tried to tell her he had not wanted things to turn out as they had, but had trouble articulating the feelings. He told her of the destruction of the bifrost, the last words his father had spoken to him and his voice trailed off.

He swallowed hard against the memories of the Abyss and shook his head. He could not speak of it. The horrors of that time were still too painful, too real. He relived them when he had an unguarded moment and he wandered into that part of his mind where he had tried to bury the memories.

He shifted slightly and let out another sigh.

Sigyn listened silently, letting her hands play up and down his spine while he talked. Dusk deepened to true night before he finished, and the little valley was hushed with the sounds of darkness. When Loki trailed off finally, she gently freed herself from his hold and stepped over to the stream.

It was the work of just a moment to fashion a cup from a borrowed leaf. “Drink, my lord,” she said softly, holding it out. There was something else in his past, she could sense it in the way he had stopped, but that would keep for another time. She understood, now, his constant tension, his amazement at her responses, and yet she could not help but feel sympathy for him, struggling so hard to be … what?

To live up to others’ expectations? How familiar a feeling, that.

“My prince, these are painful memories. Will you not put them aside for now?” she asked, voice soft.

Starfall

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

“I don’t understand, my lord.” Sigyn frowned. “I am real, I am! I — how can I prove this to you? Surely your waking life is not so terrible that … that the presence of someone as unworthy as I seems a dream?” She bit her lip, looking at him with fear and pity and a whirling, confusing sense of a pit opening up at her feet.

Loki said nothing but hugged her tightly into his chest. He had no answers for her nor any for himself. He felt as if he had been given another chance, but the hope… the hope made him waver. If he had no hope, nothing could be taken from him, none could hurt him. He knew all too well how much hope could kill your soul once it was decidedly terminated by someone or something. He didn’t know if he could handle this feeling right now. He didn’t know much of anything. He closed his eyes, resting his head on hers and held her as tightly as he could.

Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.” 

Sigyn’s words washed over him like a soft, comfortable wave of relief. He let out a gentle sigh and continued to hold her as the sun went down and twilight set in, bringing out the first stars of the night.

Tucking her head under Loki’s chin, Sigyn carefully stroked his back, humming softly under her breath. As his muscles loosened, soothing strokes morphed into lazy tracing of the bones under his skin, and she sighed longingly. The falling light, so similar to her own magic, made her feel safe, at peace, and a little bold.

“My lord?” she whispered against his throat. “Will you not tell me what troubles you so?”

Starfall

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

She leaned into his strength and desperately tried to stop trembling. “You do me far too much honour, my prince. I only tried to protect you. Please, do not praise me for something so simple.” His arms were warm and safe around her, and she wanted nothing more, right now, than to rest in their comfort forever.

Tipping her face up, she pressed her mouth to Loki’s softly, letting her eyes fall closed.

He kissed her, raising one hand to her cheek and tightening the other arm around her. A quiet moan came from deep in his throat and his mind became a muddle of thoughts. Thankfully, thoughts of their battle were quickly becoming replaced by thoughts of Sigyn and only Sigyn: the first time he saw her, nearly plowing over her, their escapades in his chambers, what he wished to do to her next and then the doubt came flooding over him.

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes and ran his thumb gently near her eye. He smiled sadly and sighed almost soundlessly. “I fear you are not real, dear Sigyn. These two days have been… too much like a dream…” He smiled again and ran his hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand, my lord.” Sigyn frowned. “I am real, I am! I — how can I prove this to you? Surely your waking life is not so terrible that … that the presence of someone as unworthy as I seems a dream?” She bit her lip, looking at him with fear and pity and a whirling, confusing sense of a pit opening up at her feet.

Loki said nothing but hugged her tightly into his chest. He had no answers for her nor any for himself. He felt as if he had been given another chance, but the hope… the hope made him waver. If he had no hope, nothing could be taken from him, none could hurt him. He knew all too well how much hope could kill your soul once it was decidedly terminated by someone or something. He didn’t know if he could handle this feeling right now. He didn’t know much of anything. He closed his eyes, resting his head on hers and held her as tightly as he could.

Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.”