Råvdyrkjeft: Norwegian; meaning "predator's jaws”
She knew to knock, but there was a little bit of her mother in her (slightly nosy and a tad unassuming) that figured that since this was her house, she could come and go as she pleased. It didn’t matter that there was a 1100 year old demi god taking up residence there; she paid the rent, dammit. She mowed the lawn (he couldn’t sit outside for longer than five minutes in the Louisiana sun without peeling and burning like a hot link), she did the grocery shopping and she paid all the bills.
His little pension helped, definitely, but still. This was her house.
So when she’d been sitting outside in the Focus for fifteen minutes, waiting on her roommate to come outside so they could go to the movies, and he was still in the house, she got pissed and went inside. It’s what her mother had always done, that and threaten to leave her at the house which was the absolute Worst Thing in the World to someone stir crazy in a small town. Shreveport wasn’t really that big, but hey, it at least had a mall. If they left right at 12, they could catch the 2:15 showing (matinee for the win!), get food, and then go shopping like he’d wanted.
“Ay! Loki!” she called, stomping up the steps to the trailer’s porch. It still smelled new and fresh, and hadn’t even been sealed yet; the smell of cypress was strong and beautiful, and she would miss it when she inevitably had to cover the decking in Thompson’s.
“I’m coming!” he called back, from his bedroom in the back. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, mindful that the engine was still running outside, and that she needed gas before they left town. She was contemplating what throw pillows to get with the new couch they’d picked out when she heard a crash in the back, and a yelp from Loki. Something spurred her to jog to the back and she opened his door without thinking, hoping he was alright.
He was an absolute pain in the ass sometimes, but he had somehow become a good friend and well…she liked the company.
Not knocking was her first mistake. Staring was her second.
Objectively, Mel knew that Loki wasn’t Asgardian. It was something that came with the ginormous packet of paperwork she’d had to sign when taking him into custody. He also hadn’t really shied away from telling her he wasn’t either; one the very rare occasions he let his guard down enough around her to get drunk (a difficult feat considering his metabolism and physical makeup, but moonshine could work wonders on anyone) he’d ramble all about his adopted parents, his brother, and the discovery he’d made less than a decade before that he was, in fact, a Jotun.
Mel had only nodded at that and patted him on the hand and poured him another glass of the apple pie shine.
But she’d done some googling after that. And she’d discovered some incredibly interesting details about her roommate, deducing from the way he looked that whatever skin covered him head to foot was in fact one of his glamours. It was one of the few tidbits of magick he’d been allowed to keep for his sentence, probably, she guessed, not to scare the children.
They weren’t exactly pretty people, if the drawings and illustrations online were anything to go by. Blue skin, horns, strange markings and red eyes that made her shudder. She shut her laptop after looking and hoped that Loki kept that to himself. He wasn’t bad looking when his mouth was closed and he was being nice, and she didn’t want to spoil the rapport they had now by cringing seeing him walk around all blue and shit.
So the fact that she didn’t let out a squeak or yell at seeing him like that was a feat in of itself.
He was bent over, shirt half on, one shoe still on the floor, the other on the bed. He seemed to be inspecting his foot and he hissed as he wiggled his toes. She almost felt bad for him; he’d probably bumped that pinky toe on the bed again. Maybe they’d need to run by and get another bed cause this garage sale special was causing too many injuries.
It occured to Mel that she should probably back up and close the door quietly. All she could really see of him was the blue skin, enough to make her stare for a long moment, but not enough to really cause any kind of reaction outside of a sharp breath. But apparently her stare was too hot; he lifted his head quickly and turned to her then, and that’s when her mouth dropped.
He still looked like Loki…mostly. His eyes were, in fact, red-blood red and intense enough that she could feel her own eyes water staring into them. And there were markings all up and down his exposed skin. But he wasn’t anywhere near as ghastly looking as the google search had hinted he would be. In fact, he wasn’t ghastly at all. He was just Loki, only bluer. He was still tall and lean and broad shouldered, but he seemed to have filled out a bit in this form, maybe gotten taller. Muscles she didn’t know he had stood out against the azure hue of his skin, accentuated by the markings she realized were actually less of a tattoo and more of a scar, an engraving. They were intricate and quite pretty, and something made her want to trace them with her fingertips, maybe even slide her palms over the expanse of his belly.
Huh. That was a thought.
But it was the eyes that really took her. They were wide in his surprise and she got a good look at them because of it. Framed by black lashes and set in an angular, aristocratic face, he looked almost otherworldly in his attractiveness. She swallowed, and blinked, her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. She was caught up in those eyes, scary only if you didn’t know better, a little thrill of danger thrumming through her body as he stared back.
And then he snapped out of his stupor and that was the end of her little ogle.
“Get OUT!” he screeched, hobbling over as fast as he could to slam the door in her face. She had just enough time to move out of the frame and into the hall when the door shut so hard she swear the trailer shook. And though she felt immediately awful about seeing what she’d seen when he obviously hadn’t wanted her to see it, she also was a little pissed he’d slammed the damned door in her face when this was her house.
She was also, she realized, a little pissed at how attractive she’d found him like that. The hell was wrong with her?
Deciding that yelling about it through a door would be fruitless, she went back outside, sat in the car with the air conditioning on for another ten minutes, and tried not looking in his direction when he finally appeared. He was back to normal-or, she thought, the normal he put on for everyone else-dressed in jeans and a raglan tee, his hair up in a little bun and flip flops on instead of his usual boots. She could see a bandaid on the pinky toe when he got into the car, and she opened her mouth to ask about it but he held up a slim hand and cut her off.
It was all he said, and all he needed to say. There was a tremble in his voice that made her shut up completely and then she really felt bad about barging in on him like that.
And she was still a little aroused, too. Jeez. It was a bad combination and for nearly an hour he said nothing, content to plug his ears with his Beats and listen to whatever he had on that phone of his. Probably the Backstreet Boys or Debussy. She never could tell with Loki.
Twenty minutes outside of Shreveport, on the interstate and near out of gas, she finally worked up the courage to speak to him.
“Want anything out of the gas station?” Mel asked, slowing down to get on the exit and turning left. He was silent for as long as it took for her to pull in and choose a pump, and she figured he was still sore at her. She couldn’t really blame him, though she did think about him slamming the door and got a bit annoyed. Embarrassed or not, he had no business slamming doors in her house.
“A bag of barbeque chips, if you don’t mind,” he finally said, still looking out the window.
Well, that was better than nothing, so Mel shrugged it off and grabbed her wallet, shutting the driver side door with her hip. She grabbed the snacks (and a bottle of water too, in case he got thirsty), paid for her gas, and exited the station determined not to let the little mishap sour her day.
“Here ya go. And a Smart Water cause you don’t drink enough,” she said, tossing him the black plastic bag. He looked over and caught her gaze from over his sunshades, the currently blue eyes staring at her cooly.
Mel pumped her gas and thought of a million ways to apologize, but none of them seemed to work for this situation. How do you apologize for seeing someone’s true form? She’d never been in that position before. It was almost comical except it wasn’t and now everything was awkward. And then she thought of that blue skin and those markings and his muscles and those red, red eyes and she groaned a little at how turned on it got her. There were dry spells and then there was desperation. She really needed to get laid.
“What movie are we going to see again?” Loki asked her, casually sucking chip dust off his fingertips.
“The Jurrasic Park one,” she reminded him. She wasn’t all that enthused about it, honestly, but it was something to do on a boring Saturday.
“Ah. Yes. The one with the prehistoric monsters.”
The way he stressed monsters drove home a point and she rolled her eyes but shot him a look of absolute remorse. “Dude, I’m sorry. I shoulda knocked-”
“I would say,” he grumbled, and he took a swig of his water, glaring at her the whole time.
“But you were taking forever and gas ain’t cheap.”
“No excuse in my opinion.”
“I guess not. Anyway, I’m sorry. Again. I didn’t…it wasn’t…I uh-”
“Truthfully,” he said, recapping the water bottle and rolling the chip bag back up to eat later, “it isn’t the issue of what you saw.” He paused for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. “We live in close quarters. It was bound to happen eventually.”
“But you wanted it to be on your own terms,” she said, and he nodded then.
“I didn’t want to…repulse you. Not more than I already do, anyway.”
Mel snorts, cranks the car, and pulls out the gas station parking lot. “You don’t repulse me, jackass. You just irritate the shit outta me.”
He narrows his eyes and leans back in the seat of the car, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Oh?”
“Uh huh. I mean, you’re not terrible to look at most of the time. You know, when you ain’t sunburned and you don’t go overboard with the hair gel.”
Loki smiled at that and she felt significantly better. The day hadn’t been wasted after all.
“Is that why you stared then?” he asked, and for a moment her brain couldn’t put two and two together. Of course she’d stared. She hadn’t ever seen a Jotun in the flesh. Hell, up until a few months before she hadn’t even heard of them or Jotunheim or any of that jazz.
It was only because of how he watched her did she realize what he was talking about and she felt her hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter than needed. He laughed at that, a deep roar of a laugh that both irritated and aroused her. She did like his laugh, though it was slightly maniacal and raised her hackles on occasion. But it was so lively, and he had such a nice voice, and-
“I think you’re a little hot and bothered about it. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talkin’ bout,” she muttered, turning the air conditioning up. It was the middle of March; it wasn’t even remotely hot enough for the A/C to be on that high. But her skin was flushed and she could feel her heart racing at the thought of those wild red eyes on her while she-
“Ahhh, you are! I realize I’m a desirable specimen, but you humans really are some oddities, aren’t you? Attracted to a monster. How amusing.” He grinned and leaned toward her, making her suck in a breath. Hell, he even smelled good. What kind of cologne was he wearing? Issey Miyake?
“I should have never told you about Tumblr,” she finally said, keeping her eye on the road ahead. She wasn’t about to get a ticket for speeding because Yeet God McNeckass was teasing her about something as silly as finding him attractive. “You don’t even look that different,” she added.
“So what you’re really saying,” Loki said, arm on the center console and still much too close to her for comfort, “is that you’re attracted to me to already but that seeing me in my true form amplifies that attraction. I understand. Somewhat.” He wrinkled his brow in thought and then shrugged. “Granted, you’ve shown me the few fellows you’ve let creep in your bed and I must say, I’d take a Jotun over those idiots any day.”
Turning her head to glare at him, Mel nearly didn’t see the SUV slowing down in front of her until Loki slapped the control panel and yelled at her to stop.
It was a close call, but no harm done and no cops around so she did a few breathing exercises to calm her nerves and kept going, albeit at a much slower speed. “What in the hell, man?” she grumbled, angry to find that it was already 2:00. They wouldn’t make the movie, not at this rate. It was still another twenty minutes to Shreveport proper, and then an extra ten to the theater.
“It seems to be some sort of collision up ahead,” Loki said, leaning out of the car window and around the vehicles in front. “From what I can see, anyway.”
“Great. So we’re stuck in traffic over a damn fender bender and I’m gonna miss the movie and-”
“Let’s be perfectly honest, Mel. You didn’t want to see that movie anyway.”
“That’s beside the point.” He was right, though. And once again, way too perceptive for his own good. But at least the wreck had diverted his attention away from her being attracted to a blue skinned wonder. She didn’t really like using the term monster, simply because that implied things about herself she wasn’t about to admit.
“Whatever the point may be,” he continued, “ you are going to miss this motion picture and we’ll have made this trip for nothing.”
“I still need to go to Hobby Lobby, so not really.”
“You don’t have any more room in your home for yarn.”
“Don’t worry bout what I do in my house, Loki,” she quipped. “And while we’re talkin’ houses, stop slamming my goddamn doors! You don’t pay for shit in that house, you ain’t gonna fix it-”
“I could, in fact, fix your flimsy little door if I broke it, but it isn’t broken so no need to get your defenses up about that.” He sniffed and then a little curl of a smile popped up on his face. “Besides…it’s your fault I slammed the door.”
“I told you I was sorry-” she began, but he butted in smoothly.
“And I accept. But you’re going to admit that you want me sooner than you think, my dear.”
“Mmhm.” God, he was annoying.
“Nope. You’re alright," she insists. "You're not that fine or anything-”
“Perhaps not like this,” he says with a shrug. But then he waved his hand and his skin started to turn blue once more and Mel couldn’t help but look. She hadn’t noticed this before, but his nails are black, like he’d polished them and they’re a little sharper on the ends than the usually neatly trimmed manicure he wore in his Aesir form. It had a wild, near primal affect on her, and she had to tear her eyes away from those hands-big, strong, elegant and a little animalistic.
Loki said nothing else, but he did laugh, after she cursed under her breath, and wave the glamour back over his hand so that he looked just like he always did. He turned on the radio and tapped his foot along to the beat, ignoring how flustered she was except to glance her direction and laugh, as if he had the funniest joke but didn’t want to tell anyone.
It made for a very long day.
That very long day extended into a very long week of back and forth with Loki, who incessantly teased her about her newfound attraction.
“Is blue your favourite color, my dear?”
She’d deny it all the live long day, but it was of no use. He had promised her he wouldn’t let up until she at least admitted it. And by the following Saturday, home with nothing to do once more, she had reached the end of her rope.
“I just think you should really consider taking that bull by the horns-”
“FINE!” she screeched, earning an odd look from the demigod. “You’re hot when your blue!” She flopped back onto the brand new couch and stared straight ahead at the TV, waiting for his inevitable laughter. But it never came.
Instead, he sat gingerly beside her and looked her way, eyes searching her face until the stare burned and she had to look at him. But his eyes were entirely too intense so she had to look down.
“So, you do find me attractive like that, then?” he finally says, sitting way too close to her for comfort.
She nods, once. “Are ya happy now? You got your revenge.”
He shakes his head. “I never wanted revenge, darling.” He only ever called her that when he was being sarcastic or if he was absolutely up to no good but there was an odd sincerity in his voice that made her dare to glance up again. “I only ever wanted you to be honest. I had assumed I’d scared you.”
Mel shook her head then, frowning as if the thought is ridiculous. And really, it is. There wasn’t really a thing scary about him when he was...blue. “Nah. I mean, I was shocked, yeah, but it wasn’t...you know. I mean, I uh...”
“Does it arouse you to see me like that?”
That made her sit back and really think about how she would respond to that question. She’d couldn't pretend she didn’t find Loki a little attractive, but she hadn’t really liked him all that much either so regardless of how cute he was, he was still a dick. Well, sometimes.
“I uh...yeah? I guess? Dude, why are you-”
“I only need to know...if it...does it turn you on? Do you pleasure yourself to the thought of me as the monster?”
“Loki. What the fuck?”
“Please.” He’s literally begging at this point and it’s kind of pathetic so she answers him and honestly.
“Uh. Yeah. I have. Once or twice. But! I mean, it’s not me...you know, being all...I don’t have a fetish if that’s what you’re wondering, I just-”
She coughs nervously and then laughs to cover it up. “You’re good at this whole thing.”
“What whole thing?” he asks, looking appropriately confused.
“Making me all nervous and shit. I’m over here blushing. I don’t even know if I can blush-”
“You do,” he murmurs, leaning in close to her and trailing one long cool finger from her collarbone up to her jaw. “It’s subtle, of course, but it’s there. It’s beautiful, really.” And then he smiles, genuinely, and she wonders where the hell Loki went and who this guy is sitting on the couch with her is.
“You okay, fam?”
“I’m quite alright. Yourself?” His finger doesn’t leave her skin and she tries suppressing a shudder but it’s no use. He’s got goosebumps breaking out along her body and she’s itching to tear his clothes off.
“I’m....yeah. Okay. You uh...you done questionin’ me yet?” She’s aware that her accent is getting thicker the longer he touches her, but she can’t be bothered to care like she usually does. And if she’s not mistaken, his eyes dilate a wee bit when the country ratchets up.
“Mostly. Except…” he leans back and withdraws his fingers and she feels like she can breathe for the first time in hours, though it’s only been a minute. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to ravish you right now?”
Mel blinks, again, stupidly and opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out.
“No need to respond just yet,” he says, getting off the couch and walking back down the hall. “My bedroom door is open should you make up your mind.”
She thinks she nods, but can’t be certain. Her brain reboots and cycles through recovery mode for a moment, until she’s aware that she’s still sitting on the couch, clutching the hem of her shirt, staring at a dark television. There’s the sound of cicadas outside, the lapping of the lake, the occasional vehicle that speeds over the bridge in the distance. And there’s the pounding of her heart in her chest, the feel of warmth spreading all through her body, the want.
She swears there’s a devil perched on her shoulder telling her to go get whatever the hell she wants if it’s being offered. It’s made even worse by the angel on the other side agreeing with the sentiment and so she sighs, gets up, and walks slowly down the hall.
If she stands outside his door for another five minutes, wondering if this is all a prank (it’s a dare, someone dared him to do it, just like they did the other boys when you were younger ), well that’s neither here nor there.
If she knocks one time, just enough for him to know she's here and holds her breath and bites her lip as she hears footsteps at the door, well then, that’s for her to know and only her.
And if her body nearly goes weak at the sight of him, taller and stronger and blue, eyes the color of blood and horns-
Holy shit. So that’s what he’d meant by ‘taking the bull by the horns’. Where the hell did those come from?
“They come with the package,” he informs her and she realizes she’d said that thought out loud. “I usually keep them hidden, for good measure, but for you…” His voice is significantly deeper and richer and it gets her juices flowing in all the right places.
“Can I, uh...touch one of 'em?” she asks, in a voice that squeaks a bit and she clears her throat, says it over. “Just a quick touch, I’m not tryna cop any feels or-”
He grabs her hand and before she can get a word out, her fingertips are sliding along the hard surface of his horns. They’re a lot like an animal’s, one of those goat looking antilope things she’d seen on Animal Planet. For whatever reason, her brain decides to volunteer the name of said animal (a nubian ibex) and she nearly giggles at the thought. But she swallows that back and blows out a breath, touching the onyx ridged horns with reverence.
"They’re really fuckin' pretty,” she breathes out and he smiles and she’s fairly certain she’s drenched. He’s all white teeth and blue lips and gums, his long dark lashes framing the red eyes lusciously. He’s like something out of a fairy tale, a fantasy novel, the big bad guy with that dark energy both intoxicating and a little bit terrifying, but god does she want it.
Him. She wants him. Just like this.
It’s when her fingers reach the tippy top pointed tip of his right horn does she realize he’s completely nude. And though she tries being patient and tries to play it cool, she can’t stop her eyes from traveling southward and-
“That’s not gonna fit in me, dude. I swear on everything, I don’t care how wet I am or careful you are it’s gonna-”
“I disagree. It’ll fit. I’ll make sure you’re good and ready for it too,” he says, and he’s so serious about this, disarmingly so. He leans down and kisses her sweetly, the brush of his mouth against her own somehow reassuring. “I would never...I don’t want to hurt you. Especially not this way. But I want to indulge you.”
“Okay.” Why the hell does she want to believe him? She glances down at the large, blue dick once more and swallows. She does believe him, somehow. “Okay.”
He sticks to his word, about the getting that dick in part. He spends a long, long time just on foreplay. There’s a lot of titty sucking (enough that she feels she’s finally made up for lost time and missed opportunities with lesser lovers). He likes touching her, quite a bit actually, and when she shivers at how cool his hands are, he does something that turns them into warm mitts of absolute pleasure. He’s really good with his hands too. They knead and stroke and just barely graze parts of her, while his mouth maps out intricate lines along her neck and shoulders. He hasn’t even taken all her clothes off, and she’s already a whimpering mess.
By the time he slips one of those long fingers into her shorts and strokes her, she’s ready to fall apart just from having her nipples sucked within an inch of their lives. She cries out in the most inglorious of ways, but whatever it is about how she responds to him seems to set him off because he groans, deep in his chest and it vibrates against hers.
“Norns alive, you’re wet,” he purrs, slipping another two fingers inside her and yeah, she really is wet because that didn’t really even hurt any. There’s pressure, definitely, but he’s able to curl those fingers up and rock his palm against her clit and stroke her, hard and deliberate. She can’t do a thing else but lean back and splay her legs wide open, as much as she can still in the shorts, and take everything he gives her and then some. She’s rocking and bucking against his hand, barely making any sort of noise really because she doesn’t even think she can make sound with how good this feels. He’s pressing against a spot inside her she’s only ever read about and it’s the strangest, most amazing pressure.
She wants more, she knows that, so she squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on telling him so.
“Loki...I uh... fuck ...can I um...oh god- ”
“Oh god indeed,” he murmurs, a smirk on his face, but there’s also pure delight at how much she’s enjoying this. “When was the last time anyone completely fulfilled you?” he asked, and Mel whimpered, shook her head and pushed her hips down onto his hand a little harder. “Answer me darling,” he demands, a growl in that impossibly deep and velvet rich voice and it takes all her brain cells to come up with a one word answer.
“Never!” she pants out, because something, something is close and she can feel it. This isn’t a normal everyday average orgasm. No offense to her trusty shower head, but it hasn’t a thing on what his fingers are doing to her right now, and he knows it. He makes a face of disgust at her confession and leans down to cover her with his body, all heat and heavy. And his hand slows just a bit, just enough so that he staves off whatever that was curling up inside her like that.
She almost cries at the loss.
But she doesn’t have much time to think. He slips his hand from between her thighs and sucks the glistening slick from his fingers and nearly moans. “You taste exquisite,” he groans between sucks and he lets his fingers slide out his mouth with a hearty plop. “I want to have a little more. Please?”
Well, he’d asked so nicely and who was she to deny him?
Mel nods and helps him, with shaking hands, to divest herself of her ruined shorts and underwear. Her wetness covers her thighs and everything else, drips down to the sheets below, and she can even smell how aroused she is. She knows he has to be going crazy, especially if his scent is more pronounced like she guesses it is.
“What an absolute shame,” he begins, spreading his hands across her thighs and spreading them (somehow) wider. “A travesty of the highest sorts.” He leans down and brushes his lips against the insides of her thigh and then the other, and she shakes a little at the sensation.
“It’s truly a discredit to the entire human species that no man has ever pleasured you so thoroughly.” He nuzzles the soft hairs of her mons and the noise he makes is absolutely primal. “You deserved to be ravished. Devoured. Absolutely consumed.”
Loki lifts his head just a bit to make sure she’s listening, and she is, though she’s barely able to form actual thought by now. The sharp tips of his black fingernails scrape across her skin enough to prickle, but not enough to hurt or damage. But the idea that he could hurt her, without really trying, and that he’s doing everything he can not to arouses her even more. So by the time he decides to stop teasing her and actually taste her, she’s half mad and a little bit more than light headed.
The way her hips jerk off the bed should be embarrassing. She wishes she could give a damn, but she can’t. Instead, her first reaction is to reach down and thread her fingers through his hair, but her fingers hit hard, unyielding horn instead and the shock of that makes her jerk more.
“Have I startled you too much, my darling?” Loki asks, his face not remotely worried. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her.
“No,” Mel manages to grit out, and he continues his feasting, using every bit of his mouth to please her. It’s almost as if he’s trying to eat a peach with no hands. Just tongue and lips and a little bit of his teeth, ones she can tell are a bit sharper than she’s used to seeing (and feeling). It’s so very wet and warm (she’d thought his mouth would be as cool as the rest of him, but he seems to adapt to suit her) and his tongue is just rough enough to hurt if he were to lick her a bit harder than he’s doing. But he keeps his strokes to the right density and pressure, the right pace, working in figure eights and circles and curly cues. It’s almost like he’s spelling out something over her clit, at the same time that his hands knead and stroke the flesh of her thighs. There’s a rhythm in there somewhere, and when she focuses enough, she picks up on it and starts to ride it with him.
And then she decides to put those horns to use, grasping one in each hand (though they’re pretty thick in circumference and a little hard to get a grip on), tugging his face closer into her hot cunt. This earns her a shocked and delighted growl and he urges her to continue. Red eyes glance up to hers, catching her in their gaze so that she can’t look away no matter how hard she tries; whatever is happening down below is spiralling out of control now just from a look and she cums then, hard and fast, so that she doesn’t have time to even shout.
Instead, she flops back into the bed and shudders, the delayed cry of bliss bubbling out of her chest and erupting forth in something like a sob. It sounds so pathetic to her own ears, but it must sound like music to Loki’s because he’s covering her within seconds, his body heavy and hard against her own. He strokes the side of her face and trails a nail against her throat, wraps his hands there and presses suggestively. When she sucks in a breath, he stills, but she doesn’t pull away and lets him apply just a little bit of pressure, just a teasing amount.
“I’ve never…” she gets out. It’s all she can say. He backs off, but keeps his hand there, just to give her the option again should she choose to take it.
Mel thinks perhaps she might. But there’s something she wants to do before he tries anything else, and she reaches out to touch him once more, sliding her hands along his skin. It’s not the same texture as before; the markings are, in fact, raised and she traces them with her thumbs and forefingers, trying to memorize how they run across his arms and hands and shoulders in case she never gets to do this again. She sweeps them across his chest and feels him draw in a breath, the kind of breath someone who hadn’t truly been touched in a long time takes.
It makes her a little sad, so she pushes against the hand at her throat and he lets her up so she can press her lips to his collarbone. Though her body is still a bit weak, and her legs still quiver, she wants to wrap him around her and cradle him for some reason. She does the best she can with what she’s got, long legs and arms and her annoyingly broad shoulders. But he dwarfs her, makes her feel so small and delicate and she likes it. She’s tall so it’s hard to feel that way, but Loki is taller and his chest is wide and his arms are strong and sure as he pulls her up to him.
“Feeling a bit cuddly, are we?” he teases, and she snorts. Cuddly is not the word she’d use right now. High is a bit more like it really.
“Something like that,” she says anyway, and she drapes her arms around his shoulders, content right now to just suck on the skin of his neck. It tastes no different than any other flesh she’s had in her mouth, salty and a little organic. She wonders if she could give him a hickey, considering how blue he is. She decides to try.
He doesn’t complain a bit. Instead, he tilts his head, great horns moving with him and shifting the waning mid afternoon light that seeps through the blinds. His hands cradle her bottom and pull her flush against his body, the sweat at her throat dripping down her chest when she shifts her love bites from one side of his neck to the other. She lets another hand wander along his torso and stroke the markings there, smiling a little when she hears him hiss.
“Are they...you know? Erogenous zones or something?” she drawls, nipping at his chin. He stills her mouth long enough to meet her eyes and she feels the blood inside her start to warm and pitch again.
“Only when you touch them,” he says, and he kisses her mouth proper, slowly, deeply, as if he wants to commit the taste of her tongue to memory. Well, if he is then so is she, so she sighs into his mouth and gets drunk on his kisses and his steady, roaming hands. This is so much gentler than she’d imagine, and almost uncharacteristic from him of all people, especially looking like this, but it’s amazing and she can’t get enough.
But this wasn’t her goal, and so she moves further south with her attentions, licking a trail down from his breastbone to his belly button. With just a glance up, he understands exactly what she’s up to, and he sucks in a breath, but doesn’t object in any way.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he tells her, a little cockiness in his voice when he does, cockiness that evaporates the second she darts her tongue out to circle around the head of his cock.
It’s fucking huge.
It’s also oddly beautiful, nearly purple, and salty but the taste doesn’t bother her a bit. Mel knows she can’t suck the whole thing in her mouth but she gets as much as she can, relaxing her jaw to take the first few inches in and and he stammers out her name, one hand coming to tangle in her haphazard curls.
She gets the idea, a little bit later when her jaw burns, to use her hands and so she lets saliva pool in her mouth and drip over the top of his cock like a melting popsicle, stroking him with a firm, sure grasp. She has no idea where the surety is even coming from; she’s not even close to being sexually experienced, not even for this area. But she figures all that fanfic and porn has somehow come in handy and she plays around with suctions, with the flicker of her tongue, with the pumping of her hands until she looks up to find his eyes closed and head back as his hips start to move in time with her movements.
In the back of her mind she thinks of her first boyfriend and how he’d told her that she never needed to suck a dick ever again and she grins, as much as she can, around the cock in her mouth right now. She’s got a god in her bed and he’s damn near whimpering and if that isn’t an ego boost, she doesn’t know what else is. She’s sure that he’ll find other ways to stroke it.
Something spurs her to try sucking in more of him so she steadies her breathing and relaxes her jaw a little more, teeth grazing the top of the shaft just enough that he shudders, hard. “Gods, you’ll undo me,” he rasps out, his eyes popping open to stare at her as she sucks him off. He keeps his gaze on hers and she challenges him, refusing to look away. The sounds out of his throat get louder and his hips move faster until she only needs to hold still and let him fuck her mouth. Every little grunt and groan pushes him closer and closer to spilling until he pulls her head back roughly and cums all over his belly and the bed and gets a bit on her chest and chin.
It’s cold. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise her a bit. It’s a little like getting ice cream on her face, she thinks, and the thought makes her take a little taste of it.
Doesn’t taste like ice cream but it’s not terrible, so she sucks the rest from her fingers and cleans the bit on his belly off with her mouth. And he stares at her in wide, red eyed shock, the hint of a proud smile on his face.
“My goodness,” he says after he catches his breath, hauling her up to lay across his spit sticky chest. “Where’d you learn to do something like that?”
Mel wants to quip at him and tell him 'AO3 and youporn' but instead she shrugs and plays coy. “Just sorta came to me is all.”
“Do I inspire you to try new things?”
“Mmm.” He slips a hand between them, to her wet and throbbing cunt, and he slips his fingers inside her once more. “Do you think you could take me now, sweetheart?” She shivers at the pet name and pushes her hips into his hand, but he pulls away. “Ah, ah! I asked you a question.” There’s a little warning in his voice that makes her quiver. “And so sweetly, too. Answer me. Can I have you now?”
There’s a little part of her that wants to walk away, tell him that she’s got what she wanted and that’s all he’s getting-a sloppy blowjob and a hickey on his neck. But she can’t, no matter how much she wishes she could be the big bad femme fatale. She’s hungry. It’s been years at this point and she’s felt so damn unwanted and she’s got an almost demon in her bed wanting to devour her whole.
So she nods her head and rolls over in the bed, laying against the pillows on the other side of him. And she waits.
He studies her for a very long moment, almost as if he’s trying to decide if he actually wants to do this. She can read a bit of hesitation in him, and it’s a little comforting to know that his arrogant self assurance is mostly a facade. He’s as nervous about this as she was, though she wasn’t quite sure why. He wasn’t going to be impaled on a cock that big.
But she wasn’t risking everything by exposing her so called monster nature to him either so...perhaps they were even in a way.
“I want you,” she says softly, reaching out to him. “I do. I want you Loki. Come take what you want of me.”
It’s on the tip of her tongue to say “take all of me” but she’s scared of the implications of that so instead she leaves it to him to decide how much he needs. Her body trembles in anticipation when he moves to kneel between her thighs and he spreads them once more, slicks his fingers with the wetness of her and frowns.
“You aren’t wet enough for me, darling.”
Mel barely suppresses an eyeroll and a groan, but remembers she’s got half a bottle of Astroglide in the night stand. She doesn’t think lube expires so she leans over and wiggles the little drawer, grasps around blindly until she finds what she’s looking for.
“This might help,” she tells him, uncapping the bottle and she reaches down to spread her own lips, drizzling a generous amount of lube down to her entrance. It’s cool and she gasps at the sensation, but with a few strokes of her fingers, she warms it right up and then takes the rest to slick across his cock. Just to be sure, she pours a bit from the bottom on him as well and he watches all of this interested.
“You are protected from pregnancy, yes?”
She nods. “Got an IUD,”she tells him. He looks a little confused, but seems to understand it’s contraception. “So don’t try getting too deep up in there. You may knock the little sucker loose.” He snorts and laughs silently at that, his grin stretching across his handsome face in that odd familiar way. He presses forward, just a little, so the tip of him teases and stretches her entrance just a bit. He slides his cock across her clit too, enough times that she figures she could get off just from doing that. But he’s had enough. He lifts his body from his kneeling position and leans forward toward the headboard, presses his body into hers, and uses gravity and a little finesse to push himself inside.
They both groan at the same time, her mostly because he’s so fucking thick and him because she’s hot and tight and incredibly wet. Loki lowers his head to her shoulder best he can with the horns, his hair falling into her face and sweat dripping from his brow. His voice veritably shakes when he talks, comes out in odd little half stuttered phrases instead of his usual eloquent sentences and that makes her giddy, even though she feels like if she moves he’ll split her in two.
“You...faen...feel so incredible-ugh, gods damn, so good.” He gives a little giddy laugh, something that sounds a lot like it’s coming from someone high or very close to it. “I don’t even want to move, I just...”
“You’re gonna have to move,” she breathes out, grasping on to his horns once more because they’re sturdy and strangely erotic and she has an idea of riding him while holding on to them. But right now she wants him to move, even if it’s just a little, because the ache is getting unbearable and she’s starving for him. “Otherwise, we’re gonna have some fuckin’ problems.”
“So demanding,” he somehow manages to grit out, but he does move. It’s not much, just a shift of his hips back and forward a bit, but she groans anyway. It doesn’t hurt, really, just a lot of pressure until he shifts back once again and starts a slow rhythm. And then she relaxes a little more until he can go a little deeper, a little faster.
Knees come up on either side of his torso and ankles lock around the small of his back as he pushes and pulls inside her. It’s so intimate like this, his face inches away and his eyes boring into hers as if he’s trying to read all her secrets and steal her soul. Loki slides one of his hands under her body and pulls her hips up a little to change the angle and that hits the same spot his fingers have, though in a different way. But it’s still good, so good, the pressure and the pleasure combo making her skin tingle and itch, so that she implores him to touch her.
He does. His nails get a little careless as he speeds his thrusts, as it gets easier and easier to fuck her, so there’s scratches on her thighs and ass and hips. He leans in and bites down on her skin and she’s aware there’ll be hickies-no, actual bites and bruises-later, but she likes the idea of it. She wonders how she’s going to cover the one on her chest in 80 degree weather for just long enough that it amuses her, but he’s twisting his hips again and she loses her entire train of thought.
It’s not enough to lay beneath him and let him take her; she needs to take back. So she grips those horns tight as she can and presses her heels into the bed and pushes her hips up to meet his thrusts and he gives her a gasp she’ll remember forever, making the burn in her thighs so worth it.
“Greedy girl,” he moans, licking his lips and holding her tighter, moving faster. There’s so much going on and it’s hot and he feels so fucking good inside her, and she knows if he doesn’t stop, she’ll cum soon. She wants to, so badly. She wants him to split her open and milk every drop and so she works with him, grinning maniacally as she fucks herself on his cock at the same time he fucks her.
Whatever he’s doing that spot inside her is coiling and winding up again, much the same way it had when he’d fingered her and let her drip all over his hand. But this time she knows he won’t stop. Not until she’s spent, he won’t. So she lets herself moan without inhibition, presses her mouth to every inch of blue skin she get a reach to, strokes the hard, ribbed exterior of his horns, and stares into the eyes of a god, all crimson and consuming while he takes her and stretches her.
And then she can feel herself this close, this close, so that she damn near panics when she thinks he’ll stop. He’s slowed his hips just a little and has her hands pinned to the bed as he pushes in and out, his thumb coming down to circle her clit as he does.
“Do you need to cum, sweet girl?” he asks, almost polite, but it’s so deceptive. She’s scared to admit that she does, because she’s sure he’ll stop. He reads the panic on her face and is sincere in the slight shake of his head. “I won’t stop,” he rushes out, moving a little faster, a little harder. “I won’t...I...just tell me, darling please . Tell me you want to cum. Tell me.” There is a desperate sort of need behind his plea and so she obliges him, sinking her fingernails into his knuckles.
“I need to cum,” she gasps. “Loki...fuck me, I need to cum, I need-”
It’s all she needed to say because the second she does she starts unravelling, chasing the feeling over a precipice so far and so high that it knocks the wind out of her. She thinks she hears herself scream, maybe could feel it, but she knows she can’t see a damned thing, even with her eyes open. She can only feel him inside her incessantly, pushing and pulsing and draining every little bit of her.
And when she thinks it’s over, she starts to cum again. And again. And another time until she’s crying, sobbing heaving breaths tearing from her oxygen deprived chest. He teases her with a hand on her throat and she lets him, pushes against it as a suggestion that he takes hungrily. He tightens that hand, just enough that she sees spots and loses a little bit of air, triggering an orgasm that nearly hurts it feels so damn good.
It’s only then that he allows himself the same pleasure, his nails sinking into her hip and thigh as his thrusts slip from controlled and passionate to frantic and needy. He gives a few sharp cries and buries his teeth into her shoulder, though her name slips from his lips in the throes, and she can see his eyes cross as he comes inside her.
For a harrowing moment he collapses on top of her, all of him, and she can’t breathe but he seems to remember he’s got a human woman underneath all quarter ton of his body and he rolls away, apologetic as he does. There’s blood on his mouth and fingers, smearing across his ruined sheets and her skin, but she doesn’t give one good goddamn.
She still feels like she’s floating, drifting, and she closes her eyes, pulls him close to her. “Don’t say shit,” she mutters, turning her head in the direction of his mouth and accepting a kiss. “Just lay here and hush.”
For once, the god with so much to say is speechless.
When Mel wakes up, it’s sometime in the middle of the night.
She only knows because it’s quiet outside and dark, no ruckus from the bar down the road thumping in the distance. It’s got to be past two in that case, and as she turns a little to glance at her clock, she finds she’s right. 2:47 a.m.
And there’s still a blue Jotun god laying in her bed, horns and all, completely naked with just a smidgen of the bedsheets covering him. It’s not enough to claim modestly by any means. She can still see the outline of his cock through the thin sheet, but she doesn’t really care. It’s oddly domestic, laying like this.
It’s only when she moves does she wince and then cry out. She’s sore, down below at her cunt, and there’s little gouges in her legs and hips that she only vaguely remembered. And then, as she tilts her head, she can feel the bite on her neck shift along her skin and she hisses.
What in the entire hell had she been thinking, letting him do all that? Ah, well. She’d liked it, loved it, even. She grins and thinks of going back to sleep, but the throbbing in her hip is a little annoying.
The bed shifts beside her and her lover wakes, eyes still as crimson as they were when she’d fallen asleep. He regards her for a long moment and glances over her body in the moonlight, something like regret across his face.
“Mel...sweetheart, I…” He swallows, dares to slide a gentle hand across her body and maps all the marks he’s left, as his brow furrows.
“It’s not like I ain’t ask for it,” she says, though that does nothing to wipe the horrified look off his face. Growling, she reaches up though it’s a little painful, and tugs his face down to hers. “I said I liked it, Loki. Damn. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
He considers that for a minute and sighs. “Are you absolutely certain?” he asks once more. “I didn’t want to hurt you...I only wanted-”
“And you did. You know how many times I’ve cum with any of the other dipshits I let sleep with me?”
He shakes his head.
“Twice. Between all four of them, twice. By fluke, really, and one of those involved a vibrator and a lot of my own doing.” She scoffs and then laughs, wondering how in the hell she was ever going to go back to anything less than Loki now. “But with you? With you, asshole, I came six...seven times? I don’t even remember, I lost count.”
His smile widens a bit and the worry wipes from his face, but his hands are still gentle on her body. He kisses the mark on her collarbone and it warms, contracts, and starts to disappear.
“Oh. How’d you-”
“I’ve got enough seidr to heal if need be. It’s the one thing Fury would allow me to have. And thank goodness, yes? I really don’t want you getting into hot water with your job over these.” He lets his fingers dip along her breasts where hickies cover like clover. “Or these,” he says, bending down to kiss more bite marks along her neck.
“Then get to work, loverboy.” Mel yawns, tugs a pillow from under his shoulder and fluffs it, leaning back into the plushness of it so he can heal her at his leisure. “And when you’re done, make me something to eat. I’m hungry.”
Loki lets out what only could be described as a chortle but his eyes twinkle and there’s a easiness to his demeanor that she hadn’t ever seen before. It’s nice. She likes him like this.
“Fine. But we’re having crepes, sweetheart. Waffles are for plebeians.”