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[icasm]

[ continued from here ]

[ He moves with such an energy that even those with their backs toward him can feel coming from a distance. Most everyone else is tired, or afraid, or hurting, or some combination of all three; perhaps it's not so strange, then, that people move out of his way as he strides with Lexie in arms around the edge of the camp, navigating them around various obstacles, tables, and people until he reaches a series of empty tents. The blanket has remained throughout, tucked into his hold around her and held up through sheer force of will.

She can probably feel the way his heart rate has quickened, the way his skin warms where her breath lies against it.

One tent is picked at random, or maybe because it is already partially open; it smells of someone's cold, terrified sweat but the scent is hours old and half-aired out already. There's a bedroll on either side raised slightly off the ground and with a gesture from where his hands are wrapped around to Lexie's back, one of them slides across the stones to the other with a soft scraping.

This is barely a bed. This is barely a tent, by his measurements, and his breath stutters out as Loki steps forward, sinking to his knees. She could move but a little bit, and she'd be on the edge of the bedroll.

He pulls back enough to look at her face, remaining on his knees. Turns his head back to the tent's opening, gestures so that it seals itself. Never did he think he'd miss some invention as simple as the Midgardian zipper, but it's done and easily enough; his other hand has moved from where it was wrapped around her back to rest at her hip.

Loki refocuses his attention on the woman in front of him. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ She is looking at him with a fond kind of wonder, entranced by the integrated ease with which he wields his magic. This, too, he shares with her husband: the casual use of their power with no need of a focus, and no hesitation. No fear. It is simply part of them, like the hand she raises from his shoulders to smooth through the hair at his temple to gently begin the task of setting it to rights is part of her.

She thinks it is beautiful. She thinks they are beautiful, and it is in her eyes. In the slight lift and slope of her brows.

She is reaching for his face with her other hand again, trusting his hold and the way she is settled against him to support her, when she chuckles at herself. Extricates her hand from his hair. Finally takes off her other glove so that for the first time she can hold his face in both hands. Can ghost her fingertips down his jawline before replacing them with featherlight kisses so they can go off looking for the buckles and ties that will let him free from his armor.

The shape of the kisses change as she smiles; and between her placements of them, low-voiced, she finally answers his question. ]

Yes. This is better.

[icasm]

[ It's the way she looks at him that strikes him mute on the spot. Like he's special, which he is, he knows this at his best moments, and yet. Like she cares for him already. Like he's something precious as opposed to something dangerous. Like this means something. He blinks around that final thought as she smooths his hair, laughs, touches his face, trying to fit it into his own personal cosmology of her, but he can't manage any words just yet.

What would he say? Please always look at me like that, perhaps, but no, too desperate. His breath shudders out in small gasps to match her terribly soft kisses. His hands reach blindly for her sides, finding the laces and fastenings for her armor there and undoing them swiftly.

Not until she speaks, and his ears register the faint clink of one of the buckles of his armor comes undone, does he regain his voice. ]

Glad to hear it.

[ In part because this is what he's doing, either way. In part, because it confirms for him that she has no reservations about the two of them at this moment, and that's important to him in a way that he wasn't prepared to ask questions about.

Whatever she is offering, whether this is only for now or if it an open door whose threshold he can't see beyond in this moment, he knows he'll accept it. Right now he is powerless to do otherwise in the face of her touch, her expression, her soft praise of his behavior. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ Time has stepped away. Even farther from her, in here, than it had been at the fire, for the fire had flickered and crackled and let her know that the world outside them was still moving. The sounds of others had been nearer, every once in a while someone would walk between the tents and change the landscape with their presence.

Here, in the dim light of the latest afternoon's sun slanting against one canvas wall, the only other movement is the small breath of the wind and the little shadowed dance it makes of the leaves. There is nothing of man's design in it, and it makes her feel as slow and sure as trees. She is no god, no creature of forever, but right now? The pads of her fingers brush eternity along with the side of his face, the line of his neck until she loses it into the cloth and leather that still covers him. Which she wants to be gone; goes back to searching out how.

But there is so much to feel, so much to attend to. Even with the way she is trained and practiced in taking in vast amounts of information from the world around her, she is forced to flutter from sense to sense inside herself. Where her fingers feel for fastenings, find them, loose them. The warmth in the places where the undoing has let her in enough to touch the shape of him beneath, one layer closer to skin. The way the repeated bare press of her lips against the skin she can reach— slow now, lingering— makes them tingle. The breath those presses shudders out of him that she wants to turn the whole of her to hearing, so much each one aches her heart with joy. Her own breath, a warm tickle in the space between her nose and lip as her closeness traps it between them. The smell of his hair, the way it is similar enough for her body to remember it as meaning safe. His hands on her, moving as hers do, nimble-swift in their quest to bare her to their touch. The solidity of his thighs, still held between hers. The faint effervescence of anticipating what that press of him against her will eventually mean. There is hardly enough room in her for all of this, what room could there possibly be for anything else?

He speaks, her kisses smile again, but Alexandrie finds she is saying everything she wants to be in silence. ]

[icasm]

[ He manages to free her of the armor protecting her legs without even looking at the fastenings there; some things remain familiar no matter the quality of the leather involved, after all. This, he sets aside, running his hands over the fabric still between him and her skin before undoing the laces on her pants, her boots. She'll have to stand to be properly freed of both, but that's a problem for a slightly future moment in time. Loki has no particular compulsion to be anywhere other than at his knees in front of her right now and thus moves onward toward her bodice.

Head full of sounds: her soft breathing against his skin, the unfastening of ties and buckles, his own breath rough and ragged as she touches him. Mind searching through hundreds of years of encounters, looking for something with the gentleness to match this... and finding nearly nothing. He'd eschewed such things in the favor of passions running high and hot and burning out like a firecracker in the chill night air. He is hurrying, but not so much that he'll damage her clothing or the leathers; his speed is distilled into a single-minded efficiency in unfastening, untying, peeling the leather away until he's exposed the sturdy cotton shirt beneath.

At which point he leans back a little to look at her and feels the last buckle of his own chest armor give way, sliding off his shoulders. They'll both have to stand, now, and he's only slightly annoyed at that reality.

It was better when he could just enchant his own clothes off of him.

Loki's hands settle at her waist, beneath the fabric of her shirt, before he swallows and slowly begins to push the material upwards. It'll mean she has to stop her kisses, at least for a moment, but he wants the expanse of skin available to his touch, to undo the bindings at her chest, to stand and rid himself of pants that feel too constricted as it is. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ She is exulting in her success when the armor finally slides from him, means to begin divesting him of the soft brown cloth of his shirt —

And then his hands are on the curve of her waist, warm and bare on her body for the first time, and her gasp at how the feel of it pulls all her attention turns into a long inhale. Her eyes close involuntarily as he draws his fingers up along her sides, collecting the fabric of her shirt as they travel.

So much of her is in the moving place beneath his hands where their skin meets that recollection of what she had been doing is gone; her ability to stay in the world and balance is nearly gone, so much so that she sways a little, is forced to grasp for his forearms to steady herself. She will find enough presence of mind, at least, to lower her head and raise her hands to help him pull the shirt free of her when it becomes necessary. ]

[icasm]

[ There's something very beautiful and fragile in the way that his touch seems to shock her; he feels rather like he's been handed a crystalline flower and told, under no uncertain terms, not to break it. His mouth is open to ask if she's alright when her hands find his forearms and instead he swallows his breath and the question both, continuing on with freeing her from the shirt and tossing it aside with their small growing pile of clothing and armor before his fingers reach for the bindings across her chest.

This is dangerous, he'd thought earlier, but now he knows better. This is beyond that; this is a freefall.

The fingers of his right hand skim across her collarbones, draw a line down between her breasts, and then his hands are at her waist again. Lifting her up is easy; Thedas has not rid him of his strength, and he's glad for it in this moment as he rises to his feet just to set her down amongst the blankets and cloth that make the bedding. Loki sits on the edge there, watching her for a moment, eyes shifting between green and blue before he leans in and kisses her.

It's a soft thing, but there are still teeth to be had. His hands are busy multitasking, helping her out of the last of her clothes and prying off her boots, while his mouth covers hers. After a moment it's done, and he pulls away again, kissing her on the nose briefly before pulling off his own shirt, pants, toeing off his boots.

Cool air hits his skin like a breeze on an overwarm day; he's hard and aches with wanting her and yet he just sits there, tracing runes and patterns into her bare skin for a moment. He wants, but doesn't know in this moment how to bridge wanting and having, is afraid of what happens after when they have to return to a life involving other people. ]

for Favoriteanalyst

[icasm]

[ Continued from here. ]

[ Loki memorized the number on the door. Just in case, he tells himself, and then the door is opened and they're inside, and he's still reeling from Mobius' earnestness when he tells Loki that he'll never be a disappointment to his friend.

Can he get that in writing? In stone perhaps? Burned into the heart of a star?

Left to his own devices this is about the point where his brain might spin out of control, at least briefly. Does Mobius think they should shower, first? How much of that furniture is weight bearing enough for two adult men? What is that knickknack over there? But Loki is given a directive and the part of his brain wired to please, the part of him that has thrived in Mobius' steady offerings of friendship, is more than happy to latch on to that order.

Not very chaotic of him, but, whatever. This time it's Loki's turn to grab the other man by the time, drawing close. His mouth presses against Mobius' with insistence, lips parting, pulling Mobius' bottom lip between his teeth again.

Mobius seemed to like that, so. Why not a repeat performance?

He steps entirely into Mobius' space, letting go of his tie in order to run his hands flat down Mobius' chest before coming to rest at his belt. There his hands pause, but his mouth does not, still kissing hungrily. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

[It's not the most romantic way he could've started off with, but if they were looking for a nice candlelit dinner and some cheesy sweet lines, they wouldn't have jumped at the chance to make out in an empty elevator. If there's going to be romance, it can come in the physicality of all of this, in how they go about satisfying their wants, or...even after. If romance is on the table. He's not actually sure if it is.

But they both want, and they're both eager and willing to give into it. Loki's got his lip in his teeth, and Mobius presses a breathy laugh to his mouth. If Loki wants to please so badly, he doesn't have to do all that much.

And hey. If he's not too fussed with having full control over all of this, then Mobius doesn't mind taking the reins a little. He presses his body against Loki's, and then keeps pressing, hands finding themselves along the god's waist, pushing him insistently until he's pressed against a wall. Loki's not the only one hungry. How long has he wanted this? Longer than he'd want to admit.]

[icasm]

[ Romance could be... nice? One presumes. It's definitely not off the table. But Loki has had zero experience with that sort of thing so mostly he'd end up looking for the catch, at first. Granted, it's the fact that Mobius is taking the lead that's stopped him from mentally scrambling for the catch right now.

That laugh goes straight to the pit of his stomach and keeps traveling downward. Pressed as he is between Mobius and the wall now it's pretty obvious just how into this make out session Loki is getting. Not that the TVA's uniform slacks would've left much of that to the imagination in the first place. His hands, which had curled fingers around the buckle of Mobius' belt, move to untuck his shirt so Loki can press his palms against Mobius' stomach. He wants to touch so badly, breathing hard through his nose, wants to feel skin beneath his fingers and rumple Mobius' perfectly curated uniform.

He pulls his head back to break the kiss, panting a little. ]

I'd really, hm, like to get my mouth on your cock. Just. Putting that out there for the record.

[favoriteanalyst]

[Loki's pants are so tight, it's a wonder he can move around at all in them. It's a good look. They'll look even better on the floor.

Mobius shrugs off his jacket and tosses it somewhere he doesn't care behind him, hums a pleased noise when Loki touches him, really touches his skin, and when Loki pulls back just enough to breathe and say something really, truly exciting, his mouth finds other places to kiss. Jawline. The nice soft space under the chin. He starts down the line of Loki's neck when that particular desire comes out of Loki's mouth, and he just has to laugh again, hot against Loki's pulse.]

You don't take anything slow, do you? [His hands drift up to Loki's tie, undoing it with practiced fingers.] We'll get there. Absolutely we'll get there. [Because damn if that doesn't sound like a most excellent use for a silver tongue.] I'm gonna have fun unwrapping you first.

[icasm]

[ A well-tailored outfit is quite powerful, in Loki's opinion. He, personally, can't stand a sloppy appearance on the whole.

Tight pants are just part of The Look.

Mobius kisses his neck, soft, tender places that have been ignored for quite a while and Loki's breath stutters out, his heart rate ramping upward. ]

Not usually, [ He admits, and should he feel some kind of way about that? Too bad, he's not going to allow his brain to go down that path right now, thank you very much. He's too involved with the feel of Mobius' skin beneath his hands, which leave Mobius' body in favor of beginning to unbutton the other man's shirt. ]

Like a gift? [ He asks, and immediately mentally kicks himself. Could he sound more needy? But it's said, now, and he can't take it back. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

Like a gift. [He echoes the words back, drawing them out and agreeing with them wholeheartedly. Loki is a gift, and he couldn't ask for a better one.

It does give him the brief mental image of Loki all tied up with a bow. Later. Maybe later.

Besides, a little neediness isn't a bad thing. And he can't say it's a surprise coming from someone so starved of affection. Good thing Mobius is so willing to give it. Getting some in return is just the cherry on top. He slips the tie from Loki's neck and rests his hands on his chest, just watching Loki have a time undoing his shirt for a moment before pushing in for another hungry kiss, a flash of his own teeth nipping and pulling at some unfairly pretty lips. It's really kind of nice that their hearts are both all aflutter. Flattering that he can elicit that kind of response in someone who, under normal circumstances, could destroy him in a hundred different ways without breaking a sweat.]

Or maybe you're the one that's gonna have fun unwrapping me.

[icasm]

[ continued from here ]

[ Loki has known touch to be a charged and electric thing before, but that has been very different from this, this soft and gentle thing that still burns his skin, craving more and simultaneously not wanting to stop. She kisses him and he closes his eyes, hands settled at her waist, a shuddering breath when the belt is released.

He pulls back and opens his eyes, then, but only enough to pull the tunic over his head, mussing his hair immediately; instead of returning to her sides his hands touch her cheeks with gentle fingers reaching across her cheekbones. ]

You're beautiful, [ he tells her, and surely she knows this. Definitely, he is certain he is not the first to tell her so, likely not even the first to say so in bed, but he feels it needs to be mentioned again. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ It doesn't matter that she's heard it before countless times, Alexandrie flushes with the pleasure of hearing it because she is hearing it from him.

Out of all mouths but four it has been much the same as hearing them compliment the edge of the dagger she was about to gut them with, for, while she is vain, her beauty has in great part been just that: a stunningly efficient tool with which to leverage her brutal games. Here, though, with Loki, it is something else. Means something else. Means he looks at her and sees something that he wants to touch, and touch with a delicacy that makes her feel like something precious— which is all she has ever wanted to be to those whom she has let to hold her heart.

Her eyes want to look away to protect the way she melts, but she makes herself look at him so he can see it while her hands lift to carefully smooth his hair. While they move from there to spread across his now bare shoulders, follow the lines of muscle along his upper arms, curl to brush her palms along the outsides of his forearms and her fingertips along the softer skin within until she has made it to his hands; can take them in her own so she can kiss each palm, then guide them to the tie that will let her chemise fall. ]

[icasm]

[ Her expression at what he considers to be a simple if not obvious compliment is a wonder. Like he's offered her something precious she's decided to treasure forever; a flower from the side of the walked path, pressed and dried in a diary. Something fleeting that manages to possess some meaning for much longer than originally intended.

Goosebumps follow in the wake of her touch despite the now mid-morning light streaming in through the windows. She kisses his palms like a benediction, something he doesn't know he'll ever expect or fully understand, and Loki fumbles with the tie for a moment before the chemise is loosened and he sits up a bit to help her out of the shift dress.

She still looks... perfectly coiffed, with her hair done up like that, and Loki reaches for where he imagines one of the pins to be before he stops, hand hovering. ]

May I?

[coquettish_trees]

[ Knowing what fine dexterity Loki's hands are capable of, that he fumbles with the simplest of ties charms her. Her smile glows with it as she dips her head in acquiescence. ]

Please.

[ Alexandrie will be patient as he feels his way through the process of releasing the coiffure that Marie had put in place, eager to feel the gentle movements of his hands in her hair; hands which will smell of roses by the time the flame of her curls cascades freely down her back.

Not too patient, however. When she thinks he is halfway done her hands will find their way to wandering idly down his chest until she can find the tie to his pants and hover there, running the ends of it through her fingers such that he will be able to feel the slow repetitive tug of her movement but it will not come undone. ]

[icasm]

[ There's something very grounding in the methodical process of removing many pins from someone's hair by hand, Loki finds; a small pile of pins begins to gather in the palms of his hands, to be deposited on the bedside once he's found them all.

His fingers pause when she begins to pull at the tie holding his pants fast, as if waiting to see what she may do, but then they continue. ]

Are you waiting for me to finish? [ He asks, teasing.

That his hands smell like her hair, now, is something quite wonderful, he thinks, taking a deep breath of the perfume as he coaxes her curls to fall across her bared shoulders. ]

[coquettish_trees]

Yes, [ she replies, matching his teasing tone. Alexandrie sighs her way into a happy hum as he arranges the fall of her hair to his liking, enjoying the way it tickles. ]

I did not wish to be so distracted that I should miss the little movements of your hands.

[ She pulls again at the tie, but this time it is to loose it. ]

Nor did I wish you to be thinking of my hair when I should prefer you to be thinking of my hands.

[ Less constricted by the waist, she can slide the fingers of her other hand down Loki's side and past the cloth to splay across his hip, from there can curve her hand to run the backs of her fingers over the top of his thigh. Slows at the apex of its curve, extends fingers barely past, holds there as she watches him.

A low murmur: ]

May I?

[icasm]

[ continued from here ]

[ Despite the lightheartedness of the request, Loki blinks for a moment, tilting his head as if weighing the seriousness of her statement before he stands up from the chair. His pants are suddenly very tight, not that he cares about that, exactly; he gives them a somewhat mindless tug as he rises to his feet and crosses the space between the chair and the bathtub. He sinks down to crouch at the side of the tub near her head, hands on the edge and spread out on either side of him.

He wants to tell her that he's interested in more than just a one time 'scientific' exploration of their shared attraction, but can't quite think of how best to form the words while still keeping in with the blithe tone they've been flirting in, so instead: ]

We could. A thorough experiment is probably best engaged in once you're out of the bathtub, though that doesn't mean we couldn't start... however you like, honestly.

[ Loki would like to kiss her again, actually, and leans forward a little to indicate this. ]

[apocalypsegrown]

[ There is a seriousness to it, for all the joking, and when he crouches down in front of her, fingers splayed on the edge of the tub, she presses her lips together and runs her tongue along the seam nervously. It's a bit strange to have nerves at all to be honest; for as much as her body may be new, her experience is far from it. In fact if she was to recount some of the more...experimental things she had done in the chase for a release she'd probably make quite a few priests of quite a few religions weep.

But here is Loki meeting her eyes as she sits naked in a tub perfectly covered in bubbles, just looking at her, and she feels jittery and tingly and nervous and unsure of how to proceed. His words give her a little bit to work off of at least, and as he leans forward she lightly touches his cheek- ]

You need a bed for simple experimenting? And here I thought you said you were a hedonist...

[ Her lips delicately brush his as her words trail off, fingers tracing the line of his cheek down to his jaw, and then as she adjusts in the bath for a better angle, with more intensity, her free hand curling around the edge of the bath to keep herself stable. ]

[icasm]

[ He smiles into her kiss, amused by her question and unwilling to defend himself when there's this to be doing instead. It starts off soft enough; for the span of a breath it remains that way, but then she shifts her angle and Loki sighs, fingers reaching for her hand wrapped around the edge of the bathtub as he presses his lips more insistently against hers.

Later he won't remember whose mouth parted first— only that he began to think of it and it was happening before the thought was completely formed in his mind. She still tastes of pastry and sweetness, and his tongue chases the flavor of it in her mouth. There are teeth in the next moment, because of course there are, and Loki laughs against her lips. ]

If it's to be the first it has to be special, [ he tells her in between slightly briefer bouts of enthusiastic kissing. ] A full-bodied experience of the worshipful sort. [ He captures her bottom lip between his teeth and grins. ] All good experiments have to be exhaustive, after all. Wouldn't you agree?

[apocalypsegrown]

[ She loves that sound, the way he sighs and how it reverberates in his chest, the warmth of his hand over hers, the softness of his lips. Not salty or sad or desperately pressed in the last moments of a necessary goodbye.

It's just him; and when he does dip in to taste her mouth she responds without hesitation, her eyes long since closed to focus on the sensation of kissing him. Touching him as well, fingers curling into his collar to pull him closer as she nips at him, grinning at his laugh. ​]

Sounds like an awful lot of faffing about.

[ Really... he was utterly ridiculous. She'd much rather just have him in here with her, her arms goosepimpling from being above the water for so long - and his attentions of course - and she makes a point to give him a firmer tug towards her. ]

These aren't dry clean only are they?

[icasm]

[ 'Faffing about' gets a pair of raised eyebrows from Loki. Is that really how she feels about taking things slow? He's going to turn that over in his head later, probably, try and figure out what that's about and what it could mean. But now, she tugs him closer and he goes, easily, shrugging at the question of drycleaning. ]

I wouldn't worry about the clothes, Sylvie.

[ They don't have dry-cleaning in Thedas as far as he knows. Besides, he's never cleaned a garment in his life, and he's not about to start thinking about the process of it now. ]

This is about you. [ This is about kissing and holding her hand; this is about her teeth against his lips. ] Faffing about can be fun, [ he murmurs, laughing again at her bite in response. ] But if that's not what you want...

[apocalypsegrown]

I'm not worried about the clothes you idiot. I want you in here with me. Dressed or not.

[ She shakes her head at him like he's the most ridiculous creature on the planet, because he has to be to be worrying about what she wants in bed and not where she is now. ]

I did come here for a bath after all. I'm not going to get out of it as soon as I got in, so if you want to faff, do it while the waters hot.