greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

He crushed her so close her hands were trapped between them, fingertips scrabbling against his chest. She needed to climb inside his clothes, inside his very skin, so close nothing could ever part him from her again. The little voice warned, uselessly; she refused it.

“Please,” she hissed, in between kisses that made it impossible to breathe. “Please, I need you — ” She shoved up on her toes, strained upward, wrapped a leg around his body and tried to climb him like a tree. She burned, and he was ice; blazed, and he was darkness; two stars opposed and drawn into mutual orbit.

Loki chuckled as she wrapped herself around him, as he felt her flames projected all through him, and his chill reflected back as a desperate need to get warm.

But they were too close to the castle, and the areas patrolled by Odin’s men. And he could hear a faint stomping in the distance, like footsteps marching through undergrowth. Maybe he imagined it, or maybe they needed to keep moving.

He stroked her hair from her face, reluctantly lowering her back to the ground, taking care to run his hands over her thighs as he did so. “Later, Summer. We must keep moving.” His voice sounded strained and breathless to his ears, and his face was flushed. “I thought I heard something approaching. Let us find a camp for the afternoon before…we get too…”

She whined as he put her down, but he was right, and she knew it. Well, her mind knew it, even as her body complained of parting from him. She offered him an not-entirely feigned pout, reshouldering the backpack. “You’re right. You can be such a torturer!”

They tramped for several hours under the westering sun, barely speaking except to alter course. An odd harmony settled between them, though, and each one took opportunities to touch the other — holding hands through the shallow valleys, Loki lifting Summer up over tree trunks or large rocks as the ground steepened toward the distant mountains, Summer taking Loki’s elbow to guide him around smaller obstacles.

She spoke even less as the rays of the sun burned golden, then amber, feeling a strange pull. Not quite a guide, but a tingle, something inexplicable and utterly unrelated to the god at her side. Following a stream and the crumbling remains of a natural rock wall, they rounded a bend and came upon a low cave, partly screened by a tree that strongly resembled a weeping willow.

The day was fading and Loki was relieved to see the cave. He had seen it before—venturing out this far as a child had been his favorite way to get in trouble, and to escape retribution when he was caught. Not much seemed to have changed.

He realized he was clutching Summer’s hand, and all at once felt quite embarrassed, even though there was no one to see. He cleared his throat and let go. “There is a small lake of fresh water inside these caves,” he said, remembering teaching himself to swim as a child. “We could stay here for the night.” He looked at her, still unsure, still a bit lost for how to feel with a…what was she? A lover? He swallowed.

When Loki spoke, Summer jumped a little. They’d been quiet for so long, she almost felt she’d forgotten what it was to speak. The — whatever it was — the tingle was still there; they hadn’t found it yet. She decided not to tell him about it. Maybe it would go away.

She lifted the branches aside and looked inside, though there wasn’t much to see, then nodded. “Yeah,” she said, voice slightly rusty from disuse. Stepping inside, she made a little flame and saw that it was a bit low, but dry and fairly flat for the first ten feet or so. Farther back, she could see a few openings, and water glittered in her light from one of them. It looked like there was a hole in the roof of that cave, too.

Dropping the backpack unceremoniously, Summer rolled her shoulders and explored deeper, calling back, “I think I might bathe.” When she stepped into the room with the lake, she could see the darkening sky through a narrow opening in the ceiling of it, and the water looked clear to the pebbled bottom. She left her flame burning on one of the rocks by the pool and knelt to dip a hand in the water, finding it to be a little cool, but not shockingly so.

Logically, she probably should be more careful, she thought, but she was grimy and sweaty from walking all day, and frankly she just wanted out of these clothes and clean. So she stripped off her shirt and pants, considered for half a second, and removed her underclothes too. Naked, she crept into the water, sighing softly at the chill of the water on warm skin.

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild

It was impossible to say if the kiss was unexpected or not. She fell into it, clinging to him more tightly. There was heartbreak ahead, she /knew/ there was heartbreak ahead; this was Loki, god of liars, god of mischief. His entire aspect could change in the blink of an eye. But he wanted, he wanted like fire and the burning of stars, and she wanted too, and anything he asked of her right now she would say yes.

She sought, blindly, to get her hands under his shirt, needing to touch that cool pale skin. It didn’t matter that they were running away, lost in a forest and far from safety; it didn’t matter that not that long ago he’d been the enemy and then an unlikely ally and then gone.

Loki felt himself spin away under the delicate touch of her hands. Thoughts of fear, anger, isolation … all of it could wait. It all fell to the background as he sucked her lip between his teeth and pulled her closer still, leaning hungrily into their kiss.

He remembered the first time his lips had found hers; the fire was still there, after so much time apart. His mind was burning with emotions — hers and his own alike — like he hadn’t felt ever before. He was drawn to that fire like a moth. Helpless.

He crushed her so close her hands were trapped between them, fingertips scrabbling against his chest. She needed to climb inside his clothes, inside his very skin, so close nothing could ever part him from her again. The little voice warned, uselessly; she refused it.

“Please,” she hissed, in between kisses that made it impossible to breathe. “Please, I need you — ” She shoved up on her toes, strained upward, wrapped a leg around his body and tried to climb him like a tree. She burned, and he was ice; blazed, and he was darkness; two stars opposed and drawn into mutual orbit.

Loki chuckled as she wrapped herself around him, as he felt her flames projected all through him, and his chill reflected back as a desperate need to get warm.

But they were too close to the castle, and the areas patrolled by Odin’s men. And he could hear a faint stomping in the distance, like footsteps marching through undergrowth. Maybe he imagined it, or maybe they needed to keep moving.

He stroked her hair from her face, reluctantly lowering her back to the ground, taking care to run his hands over her thighs as he did so. “Later, Summer. We must keep moving.” His voice sounded strained and breathless to his ears, and his face was flushed. “I thought I heard something approaching. Let us find a camp for the afternoon before…we get too…”

She whined as he put her down, but he was right, and she knew it. Well, her mind knew it, even as her body complained of parting from him. She offered him an not-entirely feigned pout, reshouldering the backpack. “You’re right. You can be such a torturer!”

They tramped for several hours under the westering sun, barely speaking except to alter course. An odd harmony settled between them, though, and each one took opportunities to touch the other — holding hands through the shallow valleys, Loki lifting Summer up over tree trunks or large rocks as the ground steepened toward the distant mountains, Summer taking Loki’s elbow to guide him around smaller obstacles.

She spoke even less as the rays of the sun burned golden, then amber, feeling a strange pull. Not quite a guide, but a tingle, something inexplicable and utterly unrelated to the god at her side. Following a stream and the crumbling remains of a natural rock wall, they rounded a bend and came upon a low cave, partly screened by a tree that strongly resembled a weeping willow.

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

“Running away, I thought.” Summer brushed her hand against Loki’s arm. “I’m sorry. Is this not a good plan? You don’t want to be locked up, and I can’t blame you, and honestly I don’t know any better way to get you anywhere else. I only know a little bit of Asgard, and Earth. Midgard. I can’t get you off this world, Loki! I can’t — I’m just an empath, I’m not really going to be a lot of good to you, but I won’t leave you if you don’t want me to.”

She ran down after a minute, trying to figure out what else to say. “You said you’d try. I’m just trying to help.”

He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. “You are the only thing that helps, and I forbid you to leave me,” he murmured, leaning down so their foreheads touched. He felt wildly possessive, desperate to dig out any inkling that she may feel useless to him and go. “I will run away until we find somewhere to take root, and there we will be exalted and adored, and you will not leave me.”

Loki’s sudden clasp startled Summer, but she nestled into his grip nonetheless. “I’m not going anywhere, then,” she murmured into his chest. “I won’t leave you alone. Don’t you leave me alone, okay?” The strength of his feelings was a little frightening, considering how little time they’d actually had together.

They’d only ever teased each other. How could he possibly — well, probably she was misinterpreting his feelings. Summer tipped her face up to Loki’s, hugging tight.

He knew this was dangerous. Perhaps the most dangerous thing he had ever gotten swept up in, if not the most consuming. He had run before, plenty of times. But always alone. And now her soft embraces rushed through his blood like a hard drug, and he clawed wildly for more, higher, closer. He promised himself this woman would not become weakness. She would continue to set him aflame and strengthen his resolve. They would be unstoppable; never weak.

And yet, unmistakably, his legs trembled as he let his lips fall the rest of the way to hers, eyes pressing closed as he slid his arms tighter around her back.

It was impossible to say if the kiss was unexpected or not. She fell into it, clinging to him more tightly. There was heartbreak ahead, she /knew/ there was heartbreak ahead; this was Loki, god of liars, god of mischief. His entire aspect could change in the blink of an eye. But he wanted, he wanted like fire and the burning of stars, and she wanted too, and anything he asked of her right now she would say yes.

She sought, blindly, to get her hands under his shirt, needing to touch that cool pale skin. It didn’t matter that they were running away, lost in a forest and far from safety; it didn’t matter that not that long ago he’d been the enemy and then an unlikely ally and then gone.

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

Catching his remark, Summer spluttered and snorted. “You were in a glass box, you said. That doesn’t sound like king of much. Are you counting on some kind of restoration, here? I don’t think that’s going to go over well. And, uh, I’m not going to back you on that one.”

He sighed, glaring up at the sky. At least she wasn’t one to mindlessly flatter. Still. “There’s no need to be rude, darling,” he said rather sharply. “But worry not, I’ve long since abandoned such ambitions. Asgard is a petty prize to me now.” It was as if he could hear how foolish he must sound to her, and yet he still couldn’t stop saying such things. He shoved a branch out of his way a bit too roughly. It would be a long day, that much was certain.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she sighed. Finding a bigger tree, she stopped by it and rolled the backpack off her shoulders. “I’ve been assuming we have an actual destination — do we? Or are we just wandering and hoping to find a cave?” She rubbed at a shoulder where the strap had bitten into the muscle.

“Our destination is some semblance of a life for me,” he said bitterly, and dragged himself to the tree, leaning heavily against it.

“Honestly, what am I doing out here?” He rubbed both hands over his face until it hurt.

“Running away, I thought.” Summer brushed her hand against Loki’s arm. “I’m sorry. Is this not a good plan? You don’t want to be locked up, and I can’t blame you, and honestly I don’t know any better way to get you anywhere else. I only know a little bit of Asgard, and Earth. Midgard. I can’t get you off this world, Loki! I can’t — I’m just an empath, I’m not really going to be a lot of good to you, but I won’t leave you if you don’t want me to.”

She ran down after a minute, trying to figure out what else to say. “You said you’d try. I’m just trying to help.”

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

Summer barely paid attention to where her feet were going, too absorbed in looking around at all the differences between Asgardian forests and the forests at home. Superficially, everything seemed the same — tall trees, green leaves, small animals and insects. But the greens were different, sometimes, and the leaves were shaped strangely, tree bark rougher or smoother, seeds or flowers more vibrant. She stopped for a moment to put her hand on the bole of a narrow sapling with pale bark, similar to a birch but somehow more silvery, with a soft smile.

He watched her for a moment too long perhaps, then continued. As he turned, a particularly thorny branch snapped him in the face.

“And to think, not long ago I was a king,” he muttered dramatically.

Catching his remark, Summer spluttered and snorted. “You were in a glass box, you said. That doesn’t sound like king of much. Are you counting on some kind of restoration, here? I don’t think that’s going to go over well. And, uh, I’m not going to back you on that one.”

He sighed, glaring up at the sky. At least she wasn’t one to mindlessly flatter. Still. “There’s no need to be rude, darling,” he said rather sharply. “But worry not, I’ve long since abandoned such ambitions. Asgard is a petty prize to me now.” It was as if he could hear how foolish he must sound to her, and yet he still couldn’t stop saying such things. He shoved a branch out of his way a bit too roughly. It would be a long day, that much was certain.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she sighed. Finding a bigger tree, she stopped by it and rolled the backpack off her shoulders. “I’ve been assuming we have an actual destination — do we? Or are we just wandering and hoping to find a cave?” She rubbed at a shoulder where the strap had bitten into the muscle.

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild

“Backpack,” she said succinctly. Summer knelt and began to fold up the blankets, rolling them up into neat bundles and strapping ties around them. She had to stand up to handle the last one, shaking it hard to get the leaf litter and bark bits off, and dragged an enormous canvas backpack from under a bush, shoving the blankets in. In another minute, she was struggling into the straps, wriggling her shoulders to settle the weight.

“I do appreciate the thought, though,” she said, belatedly. She handed him the electric lantern. “Lead, yes?”

Loki was vaguely insulted that this woman was carrying their supplies while he simply held the lantern, but he supposed that was Summer’s way. Shaking his head, he started off deeper into the wilderness.

He had always had a fondness for the variety of flora in his home forests. The swaying vines and shimmering dew covered leaves brought him a sense of peace that little else could offer. They disturbed a flock of birds as they pushed through the undergrowth, and they darted shrieking into the sky. Loki looked back at Summer, framed by the disappearing birds.

Summer barely paid attention to where her feet were going, too absorbed in looking around at all the differences between Asgardian forests and the forests at home. Superficially, everything seemed the same — tall trees, green leaves, small animals and insects. But the greens were different, sometimes, and the leaves were shaped strangely, tree bark rougher or smoother, seeds or flowers more vibrant. She stopped for a moment to put her hand on the bole of a narrow sapling with pale bark, similar to a birch but somehow more silvery, with a soft smile.

He watched her for a moment too long perhaps, then continued. As he turned, a particularly thorny branch snapped him in the face.

“And to think, not long ago I was a king,” he muttered dramatically.

Catching his remark, Summer spluttered and snorted. “You were in a glass box, you said. That doesn’t sound like king of much. Are you counting on some kind of restoration, here? I don’t think that’s going to go over well. And, uh, I’m not going to back you on that one.”

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

Her laughter at his offended dignity was overwhelming, and she fell back over with the force of it. “I hear a story there,” she got out between giggles. It took a minute or so, but she laughed herself out and sat back up. “Okay, okay. No mounting. Get off my blankets and we can start walking.”

“If you’re quite finished,” he rolled his eyes and gave her a playful shove as he stood up. “That is indeed a story for another time and another place, or possibly never. Ask Odin, he’ll quite enjoy spreading my shame,” he added, but imagining hearing the words through the perspective of Summer was just too absurd and he couldn’t keep himself stern.

“How do you plan to carry all of this then? Perhaps I could bespell it to be lighter…”

“Backpack,” she said succinctly. Summer knelt and began to fold up the blankets, rolling them up into neat bundles and strapping ties around them. She had to stand up to handle the last one, shaking it hard to get the leaf litter and bark bits off, and dragged an enormous canvas backpack from under a bush, shoving the blankets in. In another minute, she was struggling into the straps, wriggling her shoulders to settle the weight.

“I do appreciate the thought, though,” she said, belatedly. She handed him the electric lantern. “Lead, yes?”

Loki was vaguely insulted that this woman was carrying their supplies while he simply held the lantern, but he supposed that was Summer’s way. Shaking his head, he started off deeper into the wilderness.

He had always had a fondness for the variety of flora in his home forests. The swaying vines and shimmering dew covered leaves brought him a sense of peace that little else could offer. They disturbed a flock of birds as they pushed through the undergrowth, and they darted shrieking into the sky. Loki looked back at Summer, framed by the disappearing birds.

Summer barely paid attention to where her feet were going, too absorbed in looking around at all the differences between Asgardian forests and the forests at home. Superficially, everything seemed the same — tall trees, green leaves, small animals and insects. But the greens were different, sometimes, and the leaves were shaped strangely, tree bark rougher or smoother, seeds or flowers more vibrant. She stopped for a moment to put her hand on the bole of a narrow sapling with pale bark, similar to a birch but somehow more silvery, with a soft smile.

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

Summer laughed again. “And you were saying you were no good! Anyway, even if you weren’t, that seems pretty easy to get around — just don’t use magic. If we stick to areas around small villages, away from the city, I could easily get food. That just leaves the question of shelter. It must rain here sometime, and I for one don’t want to be caught in it. Caves, maybe?”

A completely ridiculous idea came to her, and she grinned up at him impishly. “Or we could throw all that out, you take the shape of a horse, and I just ride you out of here.”

Loki made a surprised huff. “I am choosing to interpret that as a jest,” he said stiffly. “No one mounts a god.”

Not ever again, at least. That was one time.

His grimace gave way to a small laugh, but he bit his lip. “Moving forward. I believe if we keep moving north the forest stretches a considerable distance, and there will be caves for shelter.”

Her laughter at his offended dignity was overwhelming, and she fell back over with the force of it. “I hear a story there,” she got out between giggles. It took a minute or so, but she laughed herself out and sat back up. “Okay, okay. No mounting. Get off my blankets and we can start walking.”

“If you’re quite finished,” he rolled his eyes and gave her a playful shove as he stood up. “That is indeed a story for another time and another place, or possibly never. Ask Odin, he’ll quite enjoy spreading my shame,” he added, but imagining hearing the words through the perspective of Summer was just too absurd and he couldn’t keep himself stern.

“How do you plan to carry all of this then? Perhaps I could bespell it to be lighter…”

“Backpack,” she said succinctly. Summer knelt and began to fold up the blankets, rolling them up into neat bundles and strapping ties around them. She had to stand up to handle the last one, shaking it hard to get the leaf litter and bark bits off, and dragged an enormous canvas backpack from under a bush, shoving the blankets in. In another minute, she was struggling into the straps, wriggling her shoulders to settle the weight.

“I do appreciate the thought, though,” she said, belatedly. She handed him the electric lantern. “Lead, yes?”