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.

Read this chapter at: AO3 | firechildren.net | <— Previous chapter

“Brother!” roars Thor exuberantly across the dining chamber. Loki winces slightly, brushing a hand over his temple. Despite numerous — distractions, he had in fact spent a great deal of the night studying evolutions of shapeshifting spells, and consequently not gotten much sleep. He’d hoped to slip in, collect some food, and slip out again, none the wiser, to return to his abandoned bedmate.

Luck is not at all on his side, however, as close on Thor’s heels come the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif. Volstagg immediately swaggers over to clap Loki upon the shoulder. “I hear you have joined the ranks of men, young Silver-tongue!” he booms, helping himself to everything upon the boards. “Who is the lucky maiden?”

Loki casts about in vain for escape; even Hogun’s usually grim visage shows signs of humour. Fandral is openly grinning, the bastard.

“I’d … rather not say,” he manages, fighting down a blush.

“Oh, come now!” Volstagg cajoles. “What, are you shamed?”

“I confess, I had thought, brother, that you were a lover of men!” Thor laughs.

Loki thinks privately it is just as well he were not, for he is well aware that in his own mind no man can measure up to Thor.

“May not a man keep some things to himself?” he protests.

All four men grin at him, clearly expecting him to boast. He busies himself piling a platter with small foods, trying not to meet any eyes. Even Sif is arching an inquiring eyebrow in his direction.

He turns, and Fandral is at his side suddenly, peering into his face, a slight frown etching his brows. “Was it not good, lad?” he asks, quietly. “Is that why you won’t say?”

He gives up trying not to blush, and concentrates instead on not fleeing the room. Several unfamiliar expressions flicker over Fandral’s face, and out of the corner of his eye Loki sees him motion behind his back. Incredibly, Thor instantly turns and engages Hogun and Sif in conversation. Fandral lounges against the serving board, arms folded, and eyes Loki.

“You have lain with a woman, and yet you blush like a boy still, Loki. Did you think we would think less of you?”

“You could hardly think less of me, for how little you think of me now,” Loki mutters.

Fandral acknowledges this with a wry snort, but presses on. “You do not bear the look of a man unsatisfied. In fact, you look … well-satisfied, indeed. What harm in telling us the girl’s name? Do you wish to keep her for yourself? Surely you will tire of her eventually.”

Loki bites his lip, hard. What he wants is to smash Fandral across the face for what he is suggesting, and only the thought that Fandral does not know the truth holds him back. What he says, carefully, is, “I will not have you speak so.”

Stark astonishment paints Fandral’s face while he whispers, “You’ve fallen in love with the girl.”

“No,” Loki denies immediately. He’s not even sure if he’s lying or not; he just doesn’t want Fandral to be the one who helps him to that sort of revelation.

“For fuck’s sake, Loki,” Fandral mutters, covering his eyes with one hand. “A bit of honesty wouldn’t go amiss right now.”

Loki eyes him sidelong. “I’m not trusting you, Fandral,” he hisses. “Leave off, or I’ll fill your bed with snakes.”

Fandral raises one eyebrow, making a cynical face. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Keep your girl.”

Balancing his full platter on one hand, Loki bares his teeth at Fandral in what cannot possibly be called a smile. “I always have.” Pausing on his way out the door, he glances back. “As for my lady, I shall keep her.”

He revels in the stunned silence he leaves behind.