Honeyed Moon (2/4) rated R
Story: Honeyed Moon
Author: Cincoflex
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Pairing: Loki/Oc
Summary: Loki returns to meet his in-laws. Still crackfic, with overtones of life.
A/N: As always, I give massive praise to my Betas, VR_Trakowsi and Lovellama for both encouraging and correcting me. Any mistakes here are my own; they did their best to keep me readable! Banner art is from the Internet--beautiful, huh? If you know who made it lemme know so I can give credit.
“Dragon’s claws are tipped with venom,” Thor announced. His voice sounded odd over the phone, and Cynara suspected it was on speaker, wherever he was. “Their poison can wound the Jötunn because it chills them.”
“I thought venom burned,” Cynara mused.
“Dragon venom burns those with heated blood. Those born in frost are frostbitten by it,” Thor replied. “Had I had been clawed, I would fever as the wound festered. Loki is not of my body’s blood, so for him, he will freeze.”
She felt a flare of panic. “Uh, okay, so what should I do to help him?”
“Warmth,” came the reply. “Also, horseradish.”
“Excuse me? Horseradish?”
Thor laughed. “Yes. Heat must be applied within and without. Pepper is good, and the fiery sauce of the ta-cos. Anything that brings fire to the belly will help one such as Loki.”
“Uhhh, okayyyy.” Cynara muttered. She knew Thor had a sense of humor, but she hoped this wasn’t some bizarre manifestation of it.
“Trust me, Cynara Sigyn-Laufeyson-heat will be good. Do not let him grow cold. Loki may be a weight upon my heart, but for all that I still call him my brother.”
She appreciated that, and promising to take the advice, hung up. After a moment, Cynara wandered into the kitchen, trying to remember if she had any horseradish.
It was a small kitchen; the entire house was compact for a two story, built back in the Twenties, when living on Staten Island was considered living in the country. The landlord had done a few necessary repairs and improvements, but for the most part the house still had a lot of original features and to Cynara’s eye, charm. She liked it much better than the apartment she’d originally lived in, and the bonuses of having both a back yard-even if it was only the size of a postage stamp-and a view of the Atlantic Ocean went a long way in offsetting the commute to Manhattan by ferry each day.
Catsup, mustard, mayo, soy sauce, ah! Horseradish, tucked behind a bottle of maple syrup on the refrigerator door. Cynara pulled it out and looked for an expiration date. Finding none, she rummaged in the cupboard for a can of chicken soup, talking to herself. “I’m not sure these really go together.”
She dug out one of the heating pads from the cupboard in the hall closet and was at the top of the stairs when her phone rang again; recognizing the number, Cynara gritted her teeth before answering. “Hi mom.”
“Hi hon. Just wanted to remind you about bringing the potato salad tomorrow,” he mother burbled. “You know how Harry loves your potato salad!”
“Oh. Tomorrow . . .” a rush of panic and guilt hit her; she noticed Loki sitting up in bed now, looking pale but rested. “Um, I’m not sure I can make it, Mom. My . . . husband is in town.”
“That’s wonderful, about time!” came the enthusiastic reply. “Oh ‘Nara sweetheart, you’ve got to bring him so we can finally MEET our son-in-law! I’ll tell Harry to pick up another steak! Ohh, he’s not vegetarian, is he?”
“Wait mom-I don’t think he is, but--” Cynara tried to protest, but the phone suddenly flew out of her hand, zooming swiftly from her grasp and through the bedroom doorway to Loki’s outstretched fingers. He cradled it to his ear and smirked.
“No, I’m not vegetarian at all,” he murmured.
Cynara scrambled into the room and over the mattress, trying to reclaim the phone, but Loki twisted away from her listening intently before speaking again. “We’d be delighted to come, of course. Family is all important.” He fended off a further grab and added, “Yes, your accent is very lovely too. Tomorrow then. Thank you,” and handed the phone to Cynara who glared daggers at him before putting it to her ear.
“Mom?”
“Oh he sounds so suave!” came her mother’s comment. “All right it’s settled then. We’ll see you two around three tomorrow, with potato salad! Be careful driving over the causeway, honey!”
“Mom?” but she had already hung up. Cynara turned a glare on the man beside her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He flashed her a careless grin. “Meeting my in-laws?”
“No!” Cynara wailed. “No! Look, my mom is okay; she pretty much loves everyone, but Harry . . .”
“If she does not love Harry, why did she marry him?”
“No-what I mean is that Harry is a lot more cynical,” Cynara muttered. “Look, my mom and step-dad are retired and happy, okay? They don’t really need to know that there’s an Asgard, or that most of Manhattan was leveled because of your machinations, Husband. They really don’t need the stress!”
“I should have known that you would be ashamed of our marriage,” Loki replied in a melancholy tone, his gaze distant. “Ashamed of me.”
It was a low blow, and even as she moved to deny it, Cynara caught a glimpse of something sly deep in his green eyes. “Stop it! You’re not going to put words in my mouth, and you’re not going to make me feel guilty for wanting to protect my mother! And I’m not ashamed of you, all right? You are a god, and brilliant in your own twisted way, and . . and . . .”
“Yes?” He prompted, rolling over and pinning her down against the mattress, dimples deep again. Cynara tried to scowl up at him, her fluffy hair splayed all over the pillows.
“And a huge pain in the ass,” she finished. “But I promised to love and honor you, not to obey you.”
“Two out of three is a good start,” Loki considered before dipping his head to kiss her. His mouth was cold, and Cynara shivered, lightly squirming to break the kiss and cup his face.
“You need heat.”
“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “The poison is working through me as I knew it would. I should be healed by tomorrow, though.”
Cynara sighed. “If you keep the heating pad on, and if you drink all the soup I make you and if you are better, then fine, okay, I’ll take you to Perth Amboy tomorrow, although I can’t really believe you want to go.”
Loki gave her a peculiar glance, and she realized why it struck her as so odd; his expression was both serious and touched with a tiny hint of delight. “Wife, I did not lie to your mother. Asgardian or human; family IS all.”
Cynara stared at him for a moment longer, and sighed again.
*** *** ***
She fed Loki a mug of chicken noodle and horseradish soup in bed, which he seemed to enjoy, and his elegant table manners surprised her. Somehow she’d thought of the banqueting halls and feasts of Asgard to be hugely messy affairs, with bones tossed over shoulders, and sloshed steins of mead spilling everywhere and told him so.
He laughed. “That’s hardly proper behavior for gods, now, is it? Oh some of the rowdier ones might get drunk and slovenly, but there are some standards that are universal. Besides, one makes a stronger impression when civilized.”
“I suppose,” she replied, shuffling out of her clothes and climbing into bed next to him. “What size are you?”
He shot her a suggestive look and Cynara blushed, elaborating. “In clothing. You’ll need something to wear for tomorrow, and the green leather would be a little . . . much, husband.”
“I could always simply alter my form,” he offered, but Cynara shook her head.
“I don’t want you to stress yourself.” Privately she worried that he might forget his focus and end up naked; not a bad thing in private, but certainly not something she wanted anyone else to see, much less her mother.
“You humans, always so concerned with appearances,” he sniffed. Cynara gave him a dry look and eloquently mimed a long pair of horns, stretching her hands high over her head.
Loki shrugged. “Advertising.”
“Bragging.”
He set the mug on the nightstand. “That sounds like a demand for proof, wife.”
Cynara did her best to look innocent of the charge, but couldn’t keep a straight face when Loki pulled her to him. The chill of his torso made her shiver, but he gave a sigh, eyes half-open as he smiled. “So very warm, this soft skin of yours . . .” as he spoke, he let his palms slide down her ribs, his fingers stroking along the shallow trough of her spine.
She shivered. “Mmmm, are you well enough . . . ?”
He gave her a sweetly lofty look. “Such a foolish question! For that, you must suffer much pleasure.”
Cynara tried to figure this out, and wasn’t prepared when he pulled her up, his strength more than enough to make her grip the headboard for balance. “What are you . . .?” she gasped, unprepared to feel him slither down under her, his hands sliding around her thighs, parting them in a lovely arch over his face.
“How sweet,” he murmured, “Hidden treasures for me.”
Cynara blushed, trying not to squirm, but it was difficult. Loki had one big hand gripping each cheek of her ass and was nuzzling his way between her thighs, humming to himself. She looked down at him. “Husband . . .” she began, but a moment later felt the cool touch of his lips along her inner thigh.
She writhed; the tickle was nearly unbearable, particularly when he began to speak, his words muffled against her skin.
“Let us make heat . . .”
He was ruthless. Three times Loki brought her to the very edge of orgasm, cruelly backing off before each peak to leave Cynara in a writhing frenzy of need. She gripped the headboard and growled, trying to push against his lips but his grip on her ass held her firmly as Loki chuckled.
“Shall I keep going?” he taunted her, peeking just over the damp fluff of her mound.
Cynara twisted out of his grip, sliding herself down, one hand reaching between her legs, cupping his cock which lay rigid on his flat belly. “Evil is as evil does,” she managed, and shifted until the head of his prick nestled just within the wet folds between her hips. She locked her knees, resisting his attempts to pull her down, and reached back behind her to tug his hands away.
Surprised, Loki let her, finding his wrists pinned down to the mattress a moment later. He grinned up at her, teeth very white in the twilight that filled the bedroom. “The kitten has teeth, I see.”
“I am woman, hear me roar,” Cynara informed him, and pushed back with agonizing slowness, allowing only the head of his cock to slip inside of her.
His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath, and for a moment Loki’s green eyes flashed dangerously. In a quick stroke he attempted to thrust his way up, but Cynara anticipated this move and rose up on her knees as he did so, keeping him just within the tantalizing inch he’d gained.
“We can dance,” she informed him sweetly, “or we can fuck.”
“Where is the difference?” Loki asked, looking up at her smugly.
“Here . . .” Lazily Cynara rolled her hips and squeezed, grateful that Pilates and kegels were going to pay off. They did; Loki gave a low bray of pleasured surprise, his hips jerking up again. He fought to control himself, but there was impatience in his gaze now and hunger.
“Wicked little Wife,” he murmured with a sense of bemused pride. “You dare to taunt a god?”
“Oh I do.Take me, Husband. Hard.”
He did, driving up into her, stroking deeply as Cynara cried out and rocked with him in counterstroke, their rhythm rough and graceless but full of heat. She couldn’t keep a grip on his wrists, bounced as she was by the drive of his hips. Loki slipped his arms around her bracing and caging her torso against his, his breath hot on her face.
Cynara’s groans began to rise in pitch as each thrust brought her closer to climax, and in the moment right before she did, she felt words-those words--leave her lips in a ragged whisper.
Loki’s eyes opened wide and then she was soaring, every muscle shuddering with quicksilver pleasure as she clung to him and rode out her orgasm in blissful triumph, feeling his own rocketing through hers.
She woke up a few hours later, sticky and disoriented, half tangled in the sheets. Cynara got up gingerly, feeling achy in delicate places as she went to use the bathroom and check on Sven-the-Fress. He was out in the yard, napping on the doormat so she set a bowl of water out and made her way back upstairs.
Loki was curled on his side, his bandaging dislodged. As she watched, he shivered. Cynara chided herself and climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket up over them. She curled herself around his lean back, alarmed at how cold he was and let her body heat absorb the chill. Gently Cynara tugged the bandage back in place and then draped her arm around Loki’s narrow waist as soothingly as she could.
Gradually he warmed and his shivering stopped; she fell asleep.
Author: Cincoflex
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Pairing: Loki/Oc
Summary: Loki returns to meet his in-laws. Still crackfic, with overtones of life.
A/N: As always, I give massive praise to my Betas, VR_Trakowsi and Lovellama for both encouraging and correcting me. Any mistakes here are my own; they did their best to keep me readable! Banner art is from the Internet--beautiful, huh? If you know who made it lemme know so I can give credit.
“Dragon’s claws are tipped with venom,” Thor announced. His voice sounded odd over the phone, and Cynara suspected it was on speaker, wherever he was. “Their poison can wound the Jötunn because it chills them.”
“I thought venom burned,” Cynara mused.
“Dragon venom burns those with heated blood. Those born in frost are frostbitten by it,” Thor replied. “Had I had been clawed, I would fever as the wound festered. Loki is not of my body’s blood, so for him, he will freeze.”
She felt a flare of panic. “Uh, okay, so what should I do to help him?”
“Warmth,” came the reply. “Also, horseradish.”
“Excuse me? Horseradish?”
Thor laughed. “Yes. Heat must be applied within and without. Pepper is good, and the fiery sauce of the ta-cos. Anything that brings fire to the belly will help one such as Loki.”
“Uhhh, okayyyy.” Cynara muttered. She knew Thor had a sense of humor, but she hoped this wasn’t some bizarre manifestation of it.
“Trust me, Cynara Sigyn-Laufeyson-heat will be good. Do not let him grow cold. Loki may be a weight upon my heart, but for all that I still call him my brother.”
She appreciated that, and promising to take the advice, hung up. After a moment, Cynara wandered into the kitchen, trying to remember if she had any horseradish.
It was a small kitchen; the entire house was compact for a two story, built back in the Twenties, when living on Staten Island was considered living in the country. The landlord had done a few necessary repairs and improvements, but for the most part the house still had a lot of original features and to Cynara’s eye, charm. She liked it much better than the apartment she’d originally lived in, and the bonuses of having both a back yard-even if it was only the size of a postage stamp-and a view of the Atlantic Ocean went a long way in offsetting the commute to Manhattan by ferry each day.
Catsup, mustard, mayo, soy sauce, ah! Horseradish, tucked behind a bottle of maple syrup on the refrigerator door. Cynara pulled it out and looked for an expiration date. Finding none, she rummaged in the cupboard for a can of chicken soup, talking to herself. “I’m not sure these really go together.”
She dug out one of the heating pads from the cupboard in the hall closet and was at the top of the stairs when her phone rang again; recognizing the number, Cynara gritted her teeth before answering. “Hi mom.”
“Hi hon. Just wanted to remind you about bringing the potato salad tomorrow,” he mother burbled. “You know how Harry loves your potato salad!”
“Oh. Tomorrow . . .” a rush of panic and guilt hit her; she noticed Loki sitting up in bed now, looking pale but rested. “Um, I’m not sure I can make it, Mom. My . . . husband is in town.”
“That’s wonderful, about time!” came the enthusiastic reply. “Oh ‘Nara sweetheart, you’ve got to bring him so we can finally MEET our son-in-law! I’ll tell Harry to pick up another steak! Ohh, he’s not vegetarian, is he?”
“Wait mom-I don’t think he is, but--” Cynara tried to protest, but the phone suddenly flew out of her hand, zooming swiftly from her grasp and through the bedroom doorway to Loki’s outstretched fingers. He cradled it to his ear and smirked.
“No, I’m not vegetarian at all,” he murmured.
Cynara scrambled into the room and over the mattress, trying to reclaim the phone, but Loki twisted away from her listening intently before speaking again. “We’d be delighted to come, of course. Family is all important.” He fended off a further grab and added, “Yes, your accent is very lovely too. Tomorrow then. Thank you,” and handed the phone to Cynara who glared daggers at him before putting it to her ear.
“Mom?”
“Oh he sounds so suave!” came her mother’s comment. “All right it’s settled then. We’ll see you two around three tomorrow, with potato salad! Be careful driving over the causeway, honey!”
“Mom?” but she had already hung up. Cynara turned a glare on the man beside her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He flashed her a careless grin. “Meeting my in-laws?”
“No!” Cynara wailed. “No! Look, my mom is okay; she pretty much loves everyone, but Harry . . .”
“If she does not love Harry, why did she marry him?”
“No-what I mean is that Harry is a lot more cynical,” Cynara muttered. “Look, my mom and step-dad are retired and happy, okay? They don’t really need to know that there’s an Asgard, or that most of Manhattan was leveled because of your machinations, Husband. They really don’t need the stress!”
“I should have known that you would be ashamed of our marriage,” Loki replied in a melancholy tone, his gaze distant. “Ashamed of me.”
It was a low blow, and even as she moved to deny it, Cynara caught a glimpse of something sly deep in his green eyes. “Stop it! You’re not going to put words in my mouth, and you’re not going to make me feel guilty for wanting to protect my mother! And I’m not ashamed of you, all right? You are a god, and brilliant in your own twisted way, and . . and . . .”
“Yes?” He prompted, rolling over and pinning her down against the mattress, dimples deep again. Cynara tried to scowl up at him, her fluffy hair splayed all over the pillows.
“And a huge pain in the ass,” she finished. “But I promised to love and honor you, not to obey you.”
“Two out of three is a good start,” Loki considered before dipping his head to kiss her. His mouth was cold, and Cynara shivered, lightly squirming to break the kiss and cup his face.
“You need heat.”
“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “The poison is working through me as I knew it would. I should be healed by tomorrow, though.”
Cynara sighed. “If you keep the heating pad on, and if you drink all the soup I make you and if you are better, then fine, okay, I’ll take you to Perth Amboy tomorrow, although I can’t really believe you want to go.”
Loki gave her a peculiar glance, and she realized why it struck her as so odd; his expression was both serious and touched with a tiny hint of delight. “Wife, I did not lie to your mother. Asgardian or human; family IS all.”
Cynara stared at him for a moment longer, and sighed again.
*** *** ***
She fed Loki a mug of chicken noodle and horseradish soup in bed, which he seemed to enjoy, and his elegant table manners surprised her. Somehow she’d thought of the banqueting halls and feasts of Asgard to be hugely messy affairs, with bones tossed over shoulders, and sloshed steins of mead spilling everywhere and told him so.
He laughed. “That’s hardly proper behavior for gods, now, is it? Oh some of the rowdier ones might get drunk and slovenly, but there are some standards that are universal. Besides, one makes a stronger impression when civilized.”
“I suppose,” she replied, shuffling out of her clothes and climbing into bed next to him. “What size are you?”
He shot her a suggestive look and Cynara blushed, elaborating. “In clothing. You’ll need something to wear for tomorrow, and the green leather would be a little . . . much, husband.”
“I could always simply alter my form,” he offered, but Cynara shook her head.
“I don’t want you to stress yourself.” Privately she worried that he might forget his focus and end up naked; not a bad thing in private, but certainly not something she wanted anyone else to see, much less her mother.
“You humans, always so concerned with appearances,” he sniffed. Cynara gave him a dry look and eloquently mimed a long pair of horns, stretching her hands high over her head.
Loki shrugged. “Advertising.”
“Bragging.”
He set the mug on the nightstand. “That sounds like a demand for proof, wife.”
Cynara did her best to look innocent of the charge, but couldn’t keep a straight face when Loki pulled her to him. The chill of his torso made her shiver, but he gave a sigh, eyes half-open as he smiled. “So very warm, this soft skin of yours . . .” as he spoke, he let his palms slide down her ribs, his fingers stroking along the shallow trough of her spine.
She shivered. “Mmmm, are you well enough . . . ?”
He gave her a sweetly lofty look. “Such a foolish question! For that, you must suffer much pleasure.”
Cynara tried to figure this out, and wasn’t prepared when he pulled her up, his strength more than enough to make her grip the headboard for balance. “What are you . . .?” she gasped, unprepared to feel him slither down under her, his hands sliding around her thighs, parting them in a lovely arch over his face.
“How sweet,” he murmured, “Hidden treasures for me.”
Cynara blushed, trying not to squirm, but it was difficult. Loki had one big hand gripping each cheek of her ass and was nuzzling his way between her thighs, humming to himself. She looked down at him. “Husband . . .” she began, but a moment later felt the cool touch of his lips along her inner thigh.
She writhed; the tickle was nearly unbearable, particularly when he began to speak, his words muffled against her skin.
“Let us make heat . . .”
He was ruthless. Three times Loki brought her to the very edge of orgasm, cruelly backing off before each peak to leave Cynara in a writhing frenzy of need. She gripped the headboard and growled, trying to push against his lips but his grip on her ass held her firmly as Loki chuckled.
“Shall I keep going?” he taunted her, peeking just over the damp fluff of her mound.
Cynara twisted out of his grip, sliding herself down, one hand reaching between her legs, cupping his cock which lay rigid on his flat belly. “Evil is as evil does,” she managed, and shifted until the head of his prick nestled just within the wet folds between her hips. She locked her knees, resisting his attempts to pull her down, and reached back behind her to tug his hands away.
Surprised, Loki let her, finding his wrists pinned down to the mattress a moment later. He grinned up at her, teeth very white in the twilight that filled the bedroom. “The kitten has teeth, I see.”
“I am woman, hear me roar,” Cynara informed him, and pushed back with agonizing slowness, allowing only the head of his cock to slip inside of her.
His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath, and for a moment Loki’s green eyes flashed dangerously. In a quick stroke he attempted to thrust his way up, but Cynara anticipated this move and rose up on her knees as he did so, keeping him just within the tantalizing inch he’d gained.
“We can dance,” she informed him sweetly, “or we can fuck.”
“Where is the difference?” Loki asked, looking up at her smugly.
“Here . . .” Lazily Cynara rolled her hips and squeezed, grateful that Pilates and kegels were going to pay off. They did; Loki gave a low bray of pleasured surprise, his hips jerking up again. He fought to control himself, but there was impatience in his gaze now and hunger.
“Wicked little Wife,” he murmured with a sense of bemused pride. “You dare to taunt a god?”
“Oh I do.Take me, Husband. Hard.”
He did, driving up into her, stroking deeply as Cynara cried out and rocked with him in counterstroke, their rhythm rough and graceless but full of heat. She couldn’t keep a grip on his wrists, bounced as she was by the drive of his hips. Loki slipped his arms around her bracing and caging her torso against his, his breath hot on her face.
Cynara’s groans began to rise in pitch as each thrust brought her closer to climax, and in the moment right before she did, she felt words-those words--leave her lips in a ragged whisper.
Loki’s eyes opened wide and then she was soaring, every muscle shuddering with quicksilver pleasure as she clung to him and rode out her orgasm in blissful triumph, feeling his own rocketing through hers.
She woke up a few hours later, sticky and disoriented, half tangled in the sheets. Cynara got up gingerly, feeling achy in delicate places as she went to use the bathroom and check on Sven-the-Fress. He was out in the yard, napping on the doormat so she set a bowl of water out and made her way back upstairs.
Loki was curled on his side, his bandaging dislodged. As she watched, he shivered. Cynara chided herself and climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket up over them. She curled herself around his lean back, alarmed at how cold he was and let her body heat absorb the chill. Gently Cynara tugged the bandage back in place and then draped her arm around Loki’s narrow waist as soothingly as she could.
Gradually he warmed and his shivering stopped; she fell asleep.