God of Mischief and Lies

She closed her eyes and out curved her back again, this time stretching luxuriously, soaking in the warmth from the fireplace; the silken sheets beneath her bare skin; his hands, roughly callused, yet tender. She saw that he understood her action and took it for what it was, a gesture of defiance, even as it was also a silent plea for continuance. Like a cat pretending indifference, it enjoyed being stroked, but was far too prideful to beg you to continue. He grinned to her and squeezed her breasts, then opened his hands until only his palms touched her, and he circled them around her nipples, brushing every callous against them, pulling shiver after delicious shiver from her. She could hear herself whimpering quietly as she squirmed with pleasure. She had her eyes squeezed shut, otherwise, she would have seen him lower his face to her skin. She gasped when a nipple was enveloped by the fiery clutch of his mouth. She moaned loudly as he flicked at it with his tongue and then... He nipped quickly at her. She gave a sharp explosion of noise that was somewhere between a sob and moan. She threw her head back and shuddered violently before breaking down and whispering one breathless word.

"Harder."

"Mmmm, I might hurt you."

She had to swallow the word down. She wanted him so badly it hurt. She needed him. Looking into his eyes at that moment, watching them gleam fiercely in the firelight, filled with desire, and a predatory something that should have frightened her, but instead filled her with an odd urge to sink her teeth into the skin on his shoulder.

"Harder." She demanded again. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he lowered his mouth to her other nipple, sweeping his tongue over it, then locking his lips around it and pulling it roughly into his mouth, grazing his teeth against it before sinking his teeth into her. She screamed this time, screamed her pleasure for him to hear, and raked her fingernails down his arms. She grit her teeth in frustration; he still had his shirt on. She wanted his skin against hers. He had raised his head from her, to watch her reaction, so she took the opportunity to sit up and take the dagger from the bed beside them. He seemed startled, but didn't flinch away, even when she pushed him back and got on her knees in front of him and slipped the blade between the buttons and sliced each one off. She looked at him, almost expecting to see anger in his eyes, for ruining his shirt (though an argument could be made for her own shirt, and bra), but instead, his eyes held a heat that jumped from him and raced through her, tightening her body and skipping her breath. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, and actually had to avert her eyes. Her already heated loins practically convulsed with desire upon seeing him shirtless. He was as pale as she was, like he had been kissed with ice, and his body was firm and defined, with ridges of muscle, both soft and masculine.

"Look at me." Came a soft demand. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked back to him. "You find me unfavorable?" He asked.

"What?" She asked, puzzled.

"The scars." He said. She hadn't seen any. She peered closely at him and saw what he had mentioned. A mass of scars on his right side seemed to run in dripping rivulets down his ribs, stopping just above the slight protrusion of his hip. They seemed to originate from his shoulder, some flowing down to his bicep, but only lightly. "I had hoped you wouldn't find them distasteful, but it stands to reason that you would."

"What happened?" She inquired.

"Some of the Gods took rather unkindly to a few... pranks I pulled, and decided to show me my place."

"They beat you?" She asked.

He smiled bitterly. "Nothing so uninspiring, no." He said, and to her, he suddenly seemed tired. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, an unconscious gesture filled with a barely contained, epicurean grace. "They chained me inside a cave with a serpent. I think they had originally meant it to kill me, or consume me, but the thing seemed content with simply dripping it's venom upon me. It had an... infelicitous effect upon my flesh. I managed to break free, but not before I found myself ruined."

"Ruined?" She asked, incredulously. "You're beautiful. If anything, the scars make you more so."

"Beautiful?" He asked with a mixture of disbelief and scorn. "I am a God!" He shouted at her, lashing out startlingly. "A God surrounded by Gods. Any woman who would have me has been repulsed. They could easily have someone less broken, certainly someone in higher favor with the other Gods. I am discommodious, to say the least, and certainly detestable." She shook her head slowly at him.

"No." She said. "Anyone who wouldn't find you beautiful is blind."

"It is you who are blind." He spat at her. Loathing filled his features, and he turned from her. She reached out for him, but he had taken a few steps away from her. She stepped from the bed and followed behind him.

"Stop." She said, softly. "Please." To her surprise, he did, but he didn't turn to face her. She gently slid her fingertips across his back. When he didn't pull away, she kissed just beneath his shoulder-blade, then slipped her arms around him. He remained frozen beneath her touch. She circled around him and looked up at him. He had his eyes shut, features schooled into a blank mask. She ran her hands down the smooth, muscled flesh of his chest, grazing him with her nails, leaving faint raised lines behind. He shivered slightly. She continued to touch him, drawing his hard pink nipple into her mouth, after the same fashion he had to her earlier. She flicked her tongue rapidly against it, then nipped down on it. He twitched and gasped for her. She saw that he had tilted his head back, mouth slightly open. "What makes you think you're undesirable?" She asked, stroking his face softly.

"I haven't felt the warmth of a woman's touch since the serpent."

"You are so beautiful, it makes my chest ache."

He simply looked at her, staring deeply into her eyes, as if to detect any hint of a lie there. He wouldn't find any. She took his face in her hands, stood on tiptoe and kissed him chastely on the lips, once, twice, three times. He placed his hands possessively on her hips, and the gesture felt natural, like they belonged there, and no where else. He slid his tongue lightly along her top lip, pulling a shudder from her. She pulled gently from him, and kissed the underside of his chin, then the hollow of his throat, the moved to his right shoulder and kissed the scars on his shoulder, moving slowly down to his bicep, where she bit lightly into the thick tissue, and he gave a rumble, somewhere between a purr and a growl. She slid her fingernails teasingly down his chest and stomach, and he laughed softly and twitched slightly when it tickled. Her hands reached the leather seam of his breeches, and she began to pull the leather laces loose. She looked up at him while she worked, and he met her gaze with one of such profound tenderness that her knees got slightly weak. No one had ever looked at her like that before.

She pulled the last of the laces free and slid her hands underneath the breeches, smoothing them down the slight curve of his hips. He helped her slide them down his legs and he stepped out of them and pushed them aside, barefoot. She didn't remember him taking his boots off. But, there was a more important distraction than that at hand. She had knelt to pull his breeches off, and was now face to face with the ripe fruit of her effort. He was long, and curved slightly downward, with enough girth to be genuinely intimidating. She had been blessed with several well endowed partners in her life, but Loki made her wonder how exactly he thought it was gonna work. But she refused to hesitate, for he might take it as reluctance on her part. She rolled her eyes up at him. He was looking down, watching her, his hair sliding forward to make a thick curtain around his face, but she could see his eyes, glazed with lust, and that was all the encouragement she needed. She wrapped her hand as well as she could around his base and squeezed lightly. She was rewarded with a shiver and a moan from him, and he seemed to clutch blindly for her.

But that wasn't what she wanted, oh, no. She had been considering teasing him a little longer, but she wasn't doing this for him, not necessarily. She wanted him, wanted to taste him, more than she had ever wanted anyone before in her life. She looked up at him again, to make sure he was watching, and licked the sensitive underside of his head, long and slow. She felt his body shudder, and she wrapped her lips tightly around him in response, laving him with her tongue. She heard his sharp inhalation and slid her tongue lower, alternating between long slow licks, soft, light fluttering, and swirling her tongue in circles around his head and on his shaft. As soon as she began to sink her mouth deeper on him, he pulled away.

"Love, I confess, if you continue, I'll no longer be able to support myself."

"Then sit down. I'm not done." She told him, completely unaware that no one had ever spoken to him like this in his life, much less a mortal. He did as she bade him without argument. She crawled towards him, watching his eyes slide along her body, flitting from one part of her to another, and, for once, she wasn't insecure in the least. He treated her like she was beautiful, and she felt that way.

She reached him and was pulled into a kiss so deep she felt it to her toes. He moaned into her mouth as she slid her hand along the hard length of him, now slick from her ministrations. She worked her hand over him, twisting and teasing. She was going to bend down to begin again, but he told her to stand. She did so, rather shakily, and he began to unbutton her shorts, doing so easily, despite his haste. He yanked them down around her thighs, and her leggings followed suit. He stopped briefly to examine her thong. It was delicate looking, pristine white lace with a tiny pink bow at the top.

"Don't rip those," She said. "They're my favorite."

"Mmmm, I think they may be my favorite as well." He murmured. She was surprised when he pushed her gently backwards and got on his knees in front of her, sliding her shorts and leggings down to her ankles before placing a warm kiss just above the lace of her thong. She gasped, and he continued, kissing her thighs, her stomach, and, tantalizingly, dipping his tongue underneath the lace. She was trembling by now, holding onto his shoulders for support as he gently took the lace in his teeth and slid it downwards. She could hardly stand now, as heat throbbed inside her. He straightened up and groaned when he saw her uncovered, then grabbed her firmly by the waist, spun her around, and pushed her on the bed. She let out a surprised yelp, and felt him ripping her leggings and shoes off before wedging himself between her legs. His skin was warm and smooth against her thighs. He kissed her pubic mound, and she squirmed, but then... then he descended upon her, without any warning. He ravaged her with his mouth, nipping and teasing; licking her, long and slow, until he got to that most sensitive of places. She gave a gasp that could have been a scream, and he sucked gently on her, flicking his tongue rapidly and filling her with electricity. While he did this, he slowly worked the tip of his finger inside her. She arched her back and grasped at the sheets while he slid his finger deeper, until he was to his last knuckle.

"My, but you are a tiny little thing." He said, raising his head from her. "However am I going to fit?" As if to prove it, he curved his finger a little, rubbing against her sweet spot. She moaned, and clenched her fists tighter.

"It's... been a... while." She managed to gasp, as he kept pressing his finger inside her. She was close, so close, pleasure slowly building to a crescendo inside her.

"I would continue to taste you, because you taste like heaven. But... I have far deeper needs to quench." He told her, sliding his finger slowly out of her, and she felt her whole body tighten with an attempt to keep him inside her. He groaned and closed his eyes, before slipping his finger in his mouth and hollowing his cheeks around it, enjoying her taste in earnest. Then he stood and leaned over her, kissing her roughly, pushing his tongue into her mouth and kneading her breast until she moaned into his kiss and writhed beneath him. She could taste herself faintly on him, and she sucked gently on his tongue. Then, and only then, did she break down, because she knew he was on edge, too.

"Please." She whispered to him. "Please, god, just fuck me." It was her turn to relish the surprise on his face this time, until it was replaced by one of determination. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her to him, and she felt him, hard and hot, as he pressed against her wetness. She angled her hips to encourage him and he pressed himself slowly into her. She arched her back and grasped at his arms. He was huge, and he was going so slowly, so agonizingly slowly. Pain and pleasure lanced up her body. He had a hand gently around her throat and his head thrown back, the other hand squeezing her thigh. It was an obvious effort for him, not to just shove inside her, and she did try to relax. He was only about halfway in when she saw him looking at her, teeth bared in a snarl of pleasure. She protested when he pulled out of her. But he crawled on the bed and propped himself up against the pillows and headboard, beckoning to her.

"This will make it easier, I think, little bird." He said to her. "Though, I've never had anyone quite as small as you. I've deflowered women less unyielding." She crawled to him, and into his arms. He held her by the hips and helped her center herself on his rigidity, and she began to sink down on him, oh, so slowly. She felt his hands convulse on her hips and he hissed quietly. By the time she was impaled completely upon him, they were both panting, and she had her face buried at the bend of his neck, hands tangled once again in his tousled hair. They were both still for a while, allowing her to adjust to his size, and she could feel him respond to the way her body tightened around him.

She'd waited long enough. Regardless of the regret she would surely feel in the morning, she rose up, until only the tip of him was enveloped, then sank down again, slowly. They both moaned, nearly in unison, and she began to work herself over him, twisting her hips in a circular motion as she moved, bringing an array of noises from him that made her breathing catch in her throat. That glorious wave of pleasure was looming largely over her again. She could feel her body flush feverishly as they began to pick up the pace; and his nails, even trimmed short as they were, began to break the skin on her hips, encouraging her to go faster.

He was panting her name, and murmuring sweet, nonsensical things to her in time to their rhythm, his hands sliding up her back to press her closer, and her nipples against his chest, rubbing against him with every rise and fall of their bodies, was like sweet torture.

He stopped their movement, pushing her off of him as she cried out in loss, only to be shoved down onto the bed. He slid his hips between her thighs and pierced her again, shoving cruelly into her until he reached the end of her, before pulling out and doing it again, and again. They were riding that thin, shining line between pleasure and pain, and she was crying out with every thrust as he pushed them closer to the edge.

"Fuck! Yes! Loki! God! Unfff!"

"Say it." He growled to her; the thick, wet sound of flesh meeting flesh giving it an even more carnal resonance . "Beg me. Make me your God, your King. Beg me and I'm yours." It felt far too good for her pride to object, and she was more sober now than she had ever been in her life. And god, was she close.

"Please." It started as a whisper, but she repeated it with each thrust, over and over, and it went from a whisper, to a whimper, to a demand in time with their coupling. She was so close. So close. Then, he did it; the thing that didn't just tip her off the edge but threw her, after a running sprint, off the precipice of pleasure and pain, which ran together like paint, blurring and mixing until it was black, burning with dark flame. He leaned in, one fist balled into her hair, the other clamped firmly at her waist, and sank his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder. Each thrust pressed and pulled the skin there, and she screamed, felt that tidal wave inundate her with a crash and release of pleasure. She locked her legs around his hips and raked her nails down his back as she gave a shudder, her body tightening convulsively around him as he shoved his own orgasm as deep into her as he could. Through his hands clutching fiercely at her, his teeth in her flesh and her nails in his; through the marriage of skin and seed and blood, they marked each other. Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, who thought himself above such silly things as mortals, poured himself into her, just as she had demanded; he who never took demands from anyone. They burned and branded each other, rising anew from the ashes, christening this new life with searing passion and the taste of unquenchable need. They burned with the unbridled heat of new love, both timid and strong, gentle and adamant, and they would forever be marked with it. In skin, seed, and blood.

They lay, panting and unable to move, against each other. He had his face buried against her neck as she shivered beneath him, still sensitive, and he inhaled her soft, sugary scent, and he knew he would never hold another's scent so dear. When he could muster the strength, he slid from her and rolled onto his back, groaning with effort, and pulled her to him so that her cheek lay against his chest, and together they slept; loved, satisfied, and truly home for the first time that they could remember in a long time, if, perhaps, ever.

A God for a Goddess.

A Queen for a King.