[ A kind of warmth kindles in her to hear it, one that reaches her eyes and for a moment tempers the stark intensity of the way she looks at him. It is in the little smile she wears; a protective, possessive thing.
She bends to kiss him. For the space of a breath it is sweet, her fingers soft again as they slide into his hair to cradle the back of his head. And then she shifts; moves slightly forward on her knees to force him to tilt his head back farther and deepens the kiss. Her other hand spreads, settles thumb against the high delicacy of his cheekbone, fingers above and below his ear, the last two reaching towards the back of his neck, all curling to hold him securely as she slides from sweet to heated. Insistent.
Her lips part over his, a prompt to follow; if he is not quick enough to open for her she will bite—
[ That possessive tint to her smile settles in his bones. He is wanted, and he is wanting. Loki tilts his head back easily, one hand still at her waist. He is, however, not fast enough in his response to avoid her bite, a sharp inhale and the opening of his lips the marker of how he takes this correction.
Normally he is a bit of a brat; constantly pushing boundaries to find which ones are firm and which ones are lines in the sand at a rising tide. But he doesn't know where the boundaries lie, here, and so he is waiting to see what she'll instruct him in. How she'll cause him pain.
[ His reward for that correction is a low pleased hum, the gentle draw of the place she'd bitten his lip into her mouth so she can pass her tongue just as gently over it. A small moment of reprieve before she shifts and presses hard, kisses him as if she might devour him to keep him.
And slowly, bit by bit, the hand in his hair tightens. Until he notices. Until that secure and satisfying pull, an ache on the edge of hurting. Until it crosses that line and becomes sharp. Further; she is waiting until she thinks it tugs at his attention, until he pays her hand enough mind that he will be unprepared for her to bite again, the same place she had before. Sharp, then held clamped between unyielding teeth until she's given time for the sensation of it to change, to become diffuse, and then she lets him go; releases his lip, relaxes her hand to a supportive cradle, and pulls away to look at him and take his measure. ]
[ When he notices, when the pain of her grip on his hair cuts through the haze of kiss, Loki moans soft and needy into her mouth. He doesn't pull away from her kiss at any point. His breath comes out fast and that moan turns into a keening noise, soft and high in his throat when she bites him and doesn't let up.
His eyes are shut at first, but when he opens them the pupils are wide when she pulls away to look at him. Loki's breath comes out in heavy, short pants, and his fingers remain soft at her waist. The hand on the floor has balled up into a fist, and he sucks his bottom lip into her mouth as she watches him. ]
[ She marks them; the clench of Loki's fist, his breath, his eyes, the pull of lip into mouth, and there is a warmth in the way she looks at him. A depth of care, yes, but more than that. Pleasure. Pride, and not in herself; in the having of him.
Alexandrie bends to brush her cheek against his as a cat does to claim, reveling in the gentle friction of it on her way to speak ]
How beautiful you are, my Prince of Asgard.
[ soft but clear at his ear before she takes the lobe of it between her teeth and takes her time dragging down the length of it, releasing him and pulling back again to set a finger underneath his chin to lift it a little. To draw his focus. Waits until he looks at her to say ]
[ Loki receives her compliment surrounded by the scent of her perfume. His eyes slide shut again, tilting his head down a little and breathing out through his mouth as she pulls her teeth across his earlobe.
When Alexandrie touches his chin he swallows, opening his eyes and raising his head to her gentle encouragement. He raises his eyebrows, before moving his hands to interlace his fingers and create a cradle beneath where the backs of her thighs transition into the curve of her ass. ] Hold on, [ he says softly, mouth quirking into a half-smile before bending his legs and rising to his feet.
They're just on the other side of the bed so it doesn't take much to pivot to where he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, hands still underneath Alexandrie. Now he breaks into a wider smile, feeling very good about following the letter of her directive and also being able to touch her. ]
[ Gamely, Alexandrie holds on. If she's surprised by the seeming effortlessness of how he lifts her from floor to standing in a smooth motion (which she is), she does little more to show it than raising her eyebrows and giving Loki a reevaluating look, her lips twitching with amusement.
She traces the path of his smile with a thumb, and the look turns to one of consideration; what is it that she wishes? Not all control, nor for all his gasps and keening to be due to the sharpness of her. She wants to meet him, too, in a love without such roles, where they both might shift through give and take and learn one another.
Something shifts in her face, a vulnerability surfacing in her eyes before she closes them and breathes for a moment, her body becoming a little weightier on his hands as she softens. ]
Will it disappoint you, if I do not wish this to be how we first learn one another?
[ Quiet, as she opens her eyes again to look into his. ]
That I wish to know how we are together before we play in changing the rules?
[ She closes her eyes and he wonders, immediately, if he's done something wrong. Not in the sense of requiring correction, exactly, but in... some other, less clearly delineated manner. When she softens, speaks, he releases a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and shakes his head, smile turning more subtle, something just for her. ]
No, it doesn't disappoint me.
[ When she opens her eyes his smile widens again. One of his hands comes up to brush the backs of his fingers, his fingertips, along her cheekbone. ]
I... [ He sighs, shakes his head a little. ] You surprise me at every turn, your strength, the breadth of your care. Your beauty steals the air from my lungs and I wonder how I could be fortunate enough to be a recipient of any of it, but disappointment? No. Not that.
I want, more than most things, to be yours. I know that doesn't have to come in the one type of arrangement. [ Another shake of his head. ] It is an easy thing for me to fall into.
[ A similar breath leaves her when he says no, brushes fingers across her face. And she listens. Smiles softly to be beautiful, and caring, and strong. Lets it tremble a little beneath eyes that shine wetly when he says he wants to be hers.
She sniffs a little, touches his face in mirror. Recovers as if her hand on him soothed her. ]
It is... a simple tumble for me, as well. I cannot but respond to it, and for the parts that are pain— [ her smile turns a little wry— ] I fear there is little escape from my wildness unless I make concerted effort.
[ One of her hands moves slowly to tangle itself in his hair; not to pull, or to grasp, but to hold the way a child holds something that makes them safe.
Quietly, then: ]
But I would like to be yours too. To know that even with all the power in the world to leave that you would choose to stay.
[ He is becoming very fond of the different ways she touches his hair. The ways in which she smiles and touches his face. It feels like a lot to have experienced, since the moment she woke him in the Gallows, to still be here in front of her, naked and wanting and unafraid.
That last bit sure is something. ]
Aren't we quite the pair? [ He turns his head to kiss the inside of her arm nearest his face. ] We can be wild, I think, with one another.
[ That feels safe, oddly enough.
He doesn't have all the power in the world to leave, and he knows that. He feels as if he barely has half of the power he'd had before arriving in Thedas.
[ She wants to believe him. She wants so much to believe him.
But the thing that was unbreakable in Alexandrie had broken, and testing what it would feel like to believe him hurts as if the very moment he was hers he was lost.
If the first is real, the second; there is no space between them for her to gather herself, steady herself, there is only immediately the lance of gone and suddenly she is wrapped around Loki as tightly as she can manage with her face buried in his neck, shuddering with the effort it takes to keep herself from sobbing. ]
[ Her embrace is unexpected in its intensity and yet Loki only pauses for a breath, arms coming up to hold her as she presses her face to his neck. He doesn't know what to say, what would make this alright, and so he simply wraps himself around her, as if he could guard her from the outside world with his limbs alone.
'It's okay' is too much of a lie, even for him, right now. Will it be okay? He has no idea. Her husband could turn up. Many things are possible; fewer are probable and he can't do the math here, yet. Is he going to leave? Not by choice, but how much choice does he have? He has no idea how he got here, became human, or what happens to those like him that leave without warning. ]
Don't forget to breathe, [ is what he says, finally, after a moment of feeling as though he were holding a live wire that didn't shock him through only her focused effort. ]
The first one is a labored ragged gasp— as precarious seeming as the way the rest of her shakes— and only something she can do because of the way Loki wraps around her; the way he leaves no part of her un-held.
The second is a little easier, the third easier than that, and the violence of her clinging ebbs alongside as Alexandrie manages to soothe herself back to what is real. His skin, the rumple of the sheets where her feet and ankles touch them, the way he smells.
She wonders vaguely if this is something she will always do, but mostly she holds on to him and tries to feel it in her body like it is only the contentment of being close, like it is something other than goodbye. ]
[ He rubs her back in small circles with his fingers spread out across her skin, feeling her make attempts at breathing. He kisses her forehead, the top of her head, the shell of her ear, before pressing his lips to her shoulder and makes no moves to pull away or unwind himself from around her.
Loki breathes with her. Well. He tries to anyway. Deeply in, then out through his nose. ]
I'm still right here, [ he tells Alexandrie, because it seems like something to say. Something to remind her of. ] I'm not opting to go anywhere. [ A soft chuckle. ] When I first met him, Benedict asked me if there was one of you where I was from. He sounded sad when I told him there wasn't.
[ The kisses move, and it helps. Small reminders that she can't get used to, little ropes tossed out for her to catch on to in the water. Then he speaks and—
For a long time there was not one of you where I was from, and I was sad.
It's a flash of a thought, one Alexandrie tries to let pass through her. No more. A soft ask of herself. Not no more forever, no more today. I want to be in the world where he is here. The time that is happening now.
She rests her forehead against his neck and speaks to the hollow of his throat. ]
Perhaps there was, and it is only that you had not met her yet.
But that is for the you who remains in your world to discover. In this world you are here and I am here and neither of us need be sad.
[ When she raises her head to look at him her eyes still have a liquid shine to them, but that is all. She closes them as she leans in to rub her nose against his, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. Sighs the remainder of her tension softly out, close enough that it will tickle against his lips. ]
[ He won't argue with her about it, certainly. The part of him that remains in the world he came from is gone, erased from time. That Loki may never meet Alexandrie. That Loki could barely help Sylvie with something as simple, as complex, as bringing down the TVA.
She brushes against his nose, sighs against his lips, and he thinks here we are. Strange and damaged creatures, hurting themselves on their jagged edges and coming back from the brink, bleeding.
One hand moves from her back to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair a little. ]
[ That perhaps is short enough, non-committal enough that she knows there is more; that there are things he left behind him that she doesn’t know yet that she’d brushed against— unfinished things, or things that hurt, or things he isn’t sure of yet. Things he may never be sure of.
She is thinking of apologizing when his hand shifts and he kisses her. Words taken, she tries to put it into her body; tries to make her kiss a soft one, a slow one, one of her hands stroking back into his hair.
Murmured, after: ]
Hello.
[ A breath, held for a moment, then— ]
I still know so little of what you have left behind in your world. [ A little kiss; the brief punctuation of presence. ] I am sorry if my words were clumsy or unkind.
[ It's his turn to sigh, but he's smiling as he does it. Her soft kiss helps, along with her hands in his hair — a sensation he's coming to associate with her and her alone — yet her words help even more. ]
There's a lot to tell you. [ He knows he's been... sparse, or something like it, with information thus far. With the information of relatively recent importance to his life, anyway. Information about Mobius, about the TVA, about Sylvie. About his feelings. About what they mean to him. ] If your words have been clumsy, that is my fault for not having told you more already.
[ He brushes his nose against hers. ]
But I don't think you've been clumsy. No moreso than I.
[ She smiles, nudges his nose with her own, speaks gently: ]
Anything you wish to tell me I wish to hear.
[ A moment of hesitation, and then she pulls back enough that she can look into his eyes. Allows herself a moment just to look at them and think of the way the sea is always shifting too, its sometime green and sometime blue.
She is not sure how often he has been told, but she will tell him. ]
You are a good man, Loki.
[ Untroubled now by spike of grief, imbalance, fumbling words, or fear she feels light enough to know that when they spark and set aflame again she will burn clean for him. And so she leans in to kiss him again on a slow inhale, closing her eyes to better feel him.
Here for now, hers for now, and that is all there is or needs to be. ]
[ Some day, perhaps, someone will tell him that he's a good man, capable and deserving of care, and Loki won't immediately feel as though he's managed to accidentally craft the greatest lie he's ever told without intention.
That day is not today. But before his brain can think of how to deny what she's telling him, she's kissing him again and Loki takes in a shaky breath through his nose as he kisses her back.
Loki deepens the kiss with the hand not tangled in her hair seeking her fingers to weave them together. He has to believe her, even in this; he has no other acceptable choices than that. ]
[ She can’t help it; just the brief stutter in Loki’s breath, the way he seeks her hand to lace their fingers to be closer, and she winds her fingers around his and yearns against him with a quiet needy sound escaping through her nose.
It is like this, has been like this. She is so raw to him that he could look at her across a room and leave her gasping; in this close press she nearly drowns— will drown if she lets herself and oh, how she wants to. Wants so much, because she believes when she is water he can hold her. Believes so deeply that she’d say she knows.
For now she shifts her hips tighter to him, spreads the fingers that are in his hair so she has more in her grasp when she curls her fingers into it and traces her tongue across his bottom lip. ]
[ Alexandrie's sound stirs him sharply into this exact moment, far from the protesting noises his mind would like to make about her proclamation, still. Loki's hand not intertwined with hers leaves her hair and settles, instead, at the small of her back; his legs draw in again, ankles crossing behind her, essentially cradling her in his lap.
His wanting of her hasn't abated at any point during their kissing, their touching, their conversations. Like a tide, it has ebbed and flowed, but her gasping has him shuddering all over again, his cock trapped between their bodies. She licks his bottom lip and he groans, rolling his hips upward into hers, holding her as close as is possible right now as the friction has him groaning. ]
I want you, [ he breathes against her lips. Just in case she thought that might have changed, or heaven forbid, forgot in the last several moments. ]
[ It makes her need to bite to steady herself— hearing him groan for her, roll hips up to meet hers, his hands on her, the breath of his words, the words themselves— and so she does. Presses her cheek to his, pulls her teeth inelegantly down it until they find a place to fix at his jawline— not hard, just enough to anchor herself to him as she pants softly there against his skin, whines at the absence she doesn’t know how to fix. Moving away from the way the roll of his hips drags the length of him against her for even a moment seems impossible. That moment of movement away is the only way she gets to feel him inside her.
The profound injustice of this and her overpowering want of him combine in a squeeze of her teeth, a muffled whine before she opens her mouth to let him go so she can manage an urgent whisper of ]
[ That bite and the request along with it elicits a chuckle from him, eyes going dark again with wanting. Loki remembers well how they ended up on the floor in the first place and so it's towards the center of the bed he shifts them, pressing into Alexandrie's space, hand moving from her back to run it along the back of her thigh as he maneuvers them until they're laying down, with her beneath him.
He drags his hips against hers slowly, unable to avoid teasing even though he aches to be inside of her already. Encourages her legs to wrap around his waist, as he reaches between them and presses the head of his cock against the dampness between her legs, rubbing up towards her clit then back down again but not entering her, not yet. ]
Like this?
[ As much as he needs to feel her body around him, he wants to hear her say please once more or learn what other demand or entreat she might make before he does. ]
[ Head tilts back into the pillow, eyes flutter closed as her eyebrows raise, breath hissing through her teeth as she draws it in.
Alexandrie needs little encouragement to wrap her legs at his waist. In fact she goes farther, sliding her knees along his sides until they’re just below his shoulder blades, resting her heels against his lower back— a positioning that will help to compensate for his height when he is finished teasing them both— a hazard of bedding the God of Mischief— and one which spreads her farther, unavoidably hot and slick to dripping against his rub. ]
You could make me gasp with only this. Make me writhe beneath you until the only words I know are those for pleading and your name.
[ She waits until Loki’s rhythm takes him upward and drops her hips a little so he will slide across her clit; lets herself ride the spark of it into a low shuddering moan to show him, her hand gripping his.
With words more breath than voice: ]
So yes— like this.
[ She looks up at him, eyes as dark as his with desire, voice a deep and throaty thing. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She bends to kiss him. For the space of a breath it is sweet, her fingers soft again as they slide into his hair to cradle the back of his head. And then she shifts; moves slightly forward on her knees to force him to tilt his head back farther and deepens the kiss. Her other hand spreads, settles thumb against the high delicacy of his cheekbone, fingers above and below his ear, the last two reaching towards the back of his neck, all curling to hold him securely as she slides from sweet to heated. Insistent.
Her lips part over his, a prompt to follow; if he is not quick enough to open for her she will bite—
it will not be a nip. ]
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Normally he is a bit of a brat; constantly pushing boundaries to find which ones are firm and which ones are lines in the sand at a rising tide. But he doesn't know where the boundaries lie, here, and so he is waiting to see what she'll instruct him in. How she'll cause him pain.
He looks forward to it. ]
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And slowly, bit by bit, the hand in his hair tightens. Until he notices. Until that secure and satisfying pull, an ache on the edge of hurting. Until it crosses that line and becomes sharp. Further; she is waiting until she thinks it tugs at his attention, until he pays her hand enough mind that he will be unprepared for her to bite again, the same place she had before. Sharp, then held clamped between unyielding teeth until she's given time for the sensation of it to change, to become diffuse, and then she lets him go; releases his lip, relaxes her hand to a supportive cradle, and pulls away to look at him and take his measure. ]
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His eyes are shut at first, but when he opens them the pupils are wide when she pulls away to look at him. Loki's breath comes out in heavy, short pants, and his fingers remain soft at her waist. The hand on the floor has balled up into a fist, and he sucks his bottom lip into her mouth as she watches him. ]
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Alexandrie bends to brush her cheek against his as a cat does to claim, reveling in the gentle friction of it on her way to speak ]
How beautiful you are, my Prince of Asgard.
[ soft but clear at his ear before she takes the lobe of it between her teeth and takes her time dragging down the length of it, releasing him and pulling back again to set a finger underneath his chin to lift it a little. To draw his focus. Waits until he looks at her to say ]
Up. Back on the bed.
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When Alexandrie touches his chin he swallows, opening his eyes and raising his head to her gentle encouragement. He raises his eyebrows, before moving his hands to interlace his fingers and create a cradle beneath where the backs of her thighs transition into the curve of her ass. ] Hold on, [ he says softly, mouth quirking into a half-smile before bending his legs and rising to his feet.
They're just on the other side of the bed so it doesn't take much to pivot to where he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, hands still underneath Alexandrie. Now he breaks into a wider smile, feeling very good about following the letter of her directive and also being able to touch her. ]
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She traces the path of his smile with a thumb, and the look turns to one of consideration; what is it that she wishes? Not all control, nor for all his gasps and keening to be due to the sharpness of her. She wants to meet him, too, in a love without such roles, where they both might shift through give and take and learn one another.
Something shifts in her face, a vulnerability surfacing in her eyes before she closes them and breathes for a moment, her body becoming a little weightier on his hands as she softens. ]
Will it disappoint you, if I do not wish this to be how we first learn one another?
[ Quiet, as she opens her eyes again to look into his. ]
That I wish to know how we are together before we play in changing the rules?
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No, it doesn't disappoint me.
[ When she opens her eyes his smile widens again. One of his hands comes up to brush the backs of his fingers, his fingertips, along her cheekbone. ]
I... [ He sighs, shakes his head a little. ] You surprise me at every turn, your strength, the breadth of your care. Your beauty steals the air from my lungs and I wonder how I could be fortunate enough to be a recipient of any of it, but disappointment? No. Not that.
I want, more than most things, to be yours. I know that doesn't have to come in the one type of arrangement. [ Another shake of his head. ] It is an easy thing for me to fall into.
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She sniffs a little, touches his face in mirror. Recovers as if her hand on him soothed her. ]
It is... a simple tumble for me, as well. I cannot but respond to it, and for the parts that are pain— [ her smile turns a little wry— ] I fear there is little escape from my wildness unless I make concerted effort.
[ One of her hands moves slowly to tangle itself in his hair; not to pull, or to grasp, but to hold the way a child holds something that makes them safe.
Quietly, then: ]
But I would like to be yours too. To know that even with all the power in the world to leave that you would choose to stay.
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That last bit sure is something. ]
Aren't we quite the pair? [ He turns his head to kiss the inside of her arm nearest his face. ] We can be wild, I think, with one another.
[ That feels safe, oddly enough.
He doesn't have all the power in the world to leave, and he knows that. He feels as if he barely has half of the power he'd had before arriving in Thedas.
But still. ]
I'd stay.
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But the thing that was unbreakable in Alexandrie had broken, and testing what it would feel like to believe him hurts as if the very moment he was hers he was lost.
If the first is real, the second; there is no space between them for her to gather herself, steady herself, there is only immediately the lance of gone and suddenly she is wrapped around Loki as tightly as she can manage with her face buried in his neck, shuddering with the effort it takes to keep herself from sobbing. ]
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'It's okay' is too much of a lie, even for him, right now. Will it be okay? He has no idea. Her husband could turn up. Many things are possible; fewer are probable and he can't do the math here, yet. Is he going to leave? Not by choice, but how much choice does he have? He has no idea how he got here, became human, or what happens to those like him that leave without warning. ]
Don't forget to breathe, [ is what he says, finally, after a moment of feeling as though he were holding a live wire that didn't shock him through only her focused effort. ]
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The first one is a labored ragged gasp— as precarious seeming as the way the rest of her shakes— and only something she can do because of the way Loki wraps around her; the way he leaves no part of her un-held.
The second is a little easier, the third easier than that, and the violence of her clinging ebbs alongside as Alexandrie manages to soothe herself back to what is real. His skin, the rumple of the sheets where her feet and ankles touch them, the way he smells.
She wonders vaguely if this is something she will always do, but mostly she holds on to him and tries to feel it in her body like it is only the contentment of being close, like it is something other than goodbye. ]
usericon keywords just for you
Loki breathes with her. Well. He tries to anyway. Deeply in, then out through his nose. ]
I'm still right here, [ he tells Alexandrie, because it seems like something to say. Something to remind her of. ] I'm not opting to go anywhere. [ A soft chuckle. ] When I first met him, Benedict asked me if there was one of you where I was from. He sounded sad when I told him there wasn't.
bless
For a long time there was not one of you where I was from, and I was sad.
It's a flash of a thought, one Alexandrie tries to let pass through her. No more. A soft ask of herself. Not no more forever, no more today. I want to be in the world where he is here. The time that is happening now.
She rests her forehead against his neck and speaks to the hollow of his throat. ]
Perhaps there was, and it is only that you had not met her yet.
But that is for the you who remains in your world to discover. In this world you are here and I am here and neither of us need be sad.
[ When she raises her head to look at him her eyes still have a liquid shine to them, but that is all. She closes them as she leans in to rub her nose against his, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. Sighs the remainder of her tension softly out, close enough that it will tickle against his lips. ]
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[ He won't argue with her about it, certainly. The part of him that remains in the world he came from is gone, erased from time. That Loki may never meet Alexandrie. That Loki could barely help Sylvie with something as simple, as complex, as bringing down the TVA.
She brushes against his nose, sighs against his lips, and he thinks here we are. Strange and damaged creatures, hurting themselves on their jagged edges and coming back from the brink, bleeding.
One hand moves from her back to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair a little. ]
Hello, again.
[ A kiss for her, then. ]
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She is thinking of apologizing when his hand shifts and he kisses her. Words taken, she tries to put it into her body; tries to make her kiss a soft one, a slow one, one of her hands stroking back into his hair.
Murmured, after: ]
Hello.
[ A breath, held for a moment, then— ]
I still know so little of what you have left behind in your world. [ A little kiss; the brief punctuation of presence. ] I am sorry if my words were clumsy or unkind.
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There's a lot to tell you. [ He knows he's been... sparse, or something like it, with information thus far. With the information of relatively recent importance to his life, anyway. Information about Mobius, about the TVA, about Sylvie. About his feelings. About what they mean to him. ] If your words have been clumsy, that is my fault for not having told you more already.
[ He brushes his nose against hers. ]
But I don't think you've been clumsy. No moreso than I.
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[ She smiles, nudges his nose with her own, speaks gently: ]
Anything you wish to tell me I wish to hear.
[ A moment of hesitation, and then she pulls back enough that she can look into his eyes. Allows herself a moment just to look at them and think of the way the sea is always shifting too, its sometime green and sometime blue.
She is not sure how often he has been told, but she will tell him. ]
You are a good man, Loki.
[ Untroubled now by spike of grief, imbalance, fumbling words, or fear she feels light enough to know that when they spark and set aflame again she will burn clean for him. And so she leans in to kiss him again on a slow inhale, closing her eyes to better feel him.
Here for now, hers for now, and that is all there is or needs to be. ]
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That day is not today. But before his brain can think of how to deny what she's telling him, she's kissing him again and Loki takes in a shaky breath through his nose as he kisses her back.
Loki deepens the kiss with the hand not tangled in her hair seeking her fingers to weave them together. He has to believe her, even in this; he has no other acceptable choices than that. ]
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It is like this, has been like this. She is so raw to him that he could look at her across a room and leave her gasping; in this close press she nearly drowns— will drown if she lets herself and oh, how she wants to. Wants so much, because she believes when she is water he can hold her. Believes so deeply that she’d say she knows.
For now she shifts her hips tighter to him, spreads the fingers that are in his hair so she has more in her grasp when she curls her fingers into it and traces her tongue across his bottom lip. ]
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His wanting of her hasn't abated at any point during their kissing, their touching, their conversations. Like a tide, it has ebbed and flowed, but her gasping has him shuddering all over again, his cock trapped between their bodies. She licks his bottom lip and he groans, rolling his hips upward into hers, holding her as close as is possible right now as the friction has him groaning. ]
I want you, [ he breathes against her lips. Just in case she thought that might have changed, or heaven forbid, forgot in the last several moments. ]
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The profound injustice of this and her overpowering want of him combine in a squeeze of her teeth, a muffled whine before she opens her mouth to let him go so she can manage an urgent whisper of ]
Yes, I—
please.
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He drags his hips against hers slowly, unable to avoid teasing even though he aches to be inside of her already. Encourages her legs to wrap around his waist, as he reaches between them and presses the head of his cock against the dampness between her legs, rubbing up towards her clit then back down again but not entering her, not yet. ]
Like this?
[ As much as he needs to feel her body around him, he wants to hear her say please once more or learn what other demand or entreat she might make before he does. ]
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Alexandrie needs little encouragement to wrap her legs at his waist. In fact she goes farther, sliding her knees along his sides until they’re just below his shoulder blades, resting her heels against his lower back— a positioning that will help to compensate for his height when he is finished teasing them both— a hazard of bedding the God of Mischief— and one which spreads her farther, unavoidably hot and slick to dripping against his rub. ]
You could make me gasp with only this. Make me writhe beneath you until the only words I know are those for pleading and your name.
[ She waits until Loki’s rhythm takes him upward and drops her hips a little so he will slide across her clit; lets herself ride the spark of it into a low shuddering moan to show him, her hand gripping his.
With words more breath than voice: ]
So yes— like this.
[ She looks up at him, eyes as dark as his with desire, voice a deep and throaty thing. ]
If that is all you want.
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