into a perfect dysfunction
into a perfect dysfunction
loki/sif (thor); strong r
~3,440 words
five times loki and sif don't have sex and one time they do. comedy, angst, sexual tension, the whole gambit.
notes: major, major thanks to mizuhime_chan and zombres, my lovely friends who read this over and flailed and laughed at me and made this possible. and let me bounce ideas off them of situations where you wouldn't have sex. that was definitely a fun dicussion.
The first time Loki and Sif met as children, she had no qualms about telling him exactly how she felt. It was nothing he hadn't heard before; he was weird, he looked funny, why did he act like that. But there was something about the way she said it, the way she stuck her tongue out. That was probably what drove him to cut off her Asgardian golden hair. When it grew back, they matched. She could make fun of him no longer for that.
He hadn't counted on her scorn afterwards, nor his father's vehement disapproval.
She latched onto Thor-not in any co-dependent manner, of course-and Loki watched their adventures across Asgard, occasionally taking part along with the Warriors 3. They grew up together and Loki wouldn't have asked for another childhood.
Neither of them could pinpoint one single moment when their relationship began. At first it was purely physical, simply a way to get some release. They never told anyone, even as it developed beyond the physical bounds. Outside of their chambers they acted no differently, though if one looked close enough, they may have been able to see the shared glances between the lovers.
i.
In Asgard, nothing was ever done at less than one hundred and ten percent. Every banquet, gala, ball, ceremony, and celebration was done with every citizen in tow, lasting for hours into the morning. People drank and were merry, most not remembering much of the night before. Even for the more tedious events, things were done on the grandest of scales. Despite all this, Loki could never say he was much impressed by them. They were either dull or too loud for his tastes, the latter of which had more of Volstagg's boisterousness than he ever needed.
Today was of the former. It was a ceremony in the main hall; most citizens were in attendance and as a Prince of Asgard, Loki’s presence was a necessity. The Lady Sif, one of the foremost Asgardian Warrors, was also required to attend. Normally this would not be at all an issue. Except for the fact that just before, he nearly had Sif completely unclothed in his chambers before either of them remembered where they had to be in mere minutes.
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her and every time he looked across the stairs in her direction, she would stare back unflinchingly, her eyes heady with lust. To keep himself composed, he had to continually look away. He tried not to look at her at all but he could feel her gaze burning into him and he had to look back, his eyes tracing her every line; the curve of her neck, the shape of her armor against her thigh, the way her fingers splayed across her hip.
His lips went dry and he licked them absentmindedly, which only seemed to intensify the look in her eyes. The only word he could think to appropriately explain what he was experiencing right now was torture. This was pure, absolute, unadulterated torture. And Sif was, very clearly, enjoying and milking it for all it was worth, which only made it worse. She would very subtly lick her lips or shift her stance, craning her neck as her hair fell just so, revealing that sliver of skin above her collar bone that he loved to run his tongue over.
He didn’t know how much longer he could take of this. His father kept talking and it seemed never-ending. The longer it went, the harder he became. He was lucky in that his attire gave nothing away. He just needed to make sure he didn’t, which was becoming more difficult with every passing moment.
When the ceremony at last ended, Loki looked over at Sif and they shared a mutual look of desperate hunger. That was when Odin announced an impromptu banquet.
ii.
They had taken the Bifröst to Vanaheim to help their sister race. It wasn’t supposed to take long or turn for the worse. Yet that was exactly what had happened. Loki couldn’t trace from point A to point C. Point B was missing. Somewhere after arriving on Vanaheim, they had found themselves in the middle of a battle.
He ducked to avoid the slash of steel and thrust his weapon forward, spinning around on his heel. He scanned the battle scene, finding his brother and the Warriors 3 in the heat of war. He couldn’t find Sif and swung his head from side to side until he felt something slam into his back. When he looked over his shoulder, fully prepared to swing, he stopped short at the sight of Sif.
“Hi.” The excitement in her expression was electric, her face flushed from the skirmish. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, taking him by surprise. The grip on his weapon slackened for a moment but then she was gone, running and launching herself off a ledge, throwing herself back into battle. He went slack jawed and wavered for a moment. He probably would have continued to watch her fight, eyes glued to the way her body moved, imagining things he really shouldn’t be imagining in the thick of battle, had another enemy not suddenly come at him.
That really wasn’t fair.
He stepped delicately into the room and glanced around. No one was there. No one except for Sif, of course. He saw her smile weakly at his appearance and he wondered briefly if this was really such a good idea. Approaching the side of the bed, he looked down at her. She looked so small, so frail. It was not how he was used to seeing her.
“I…” He cleared his throat. “I had plans for when we got back. Apparently they’ll have to wait.”
“Plans, hm? That sounds very…mischievous.”
“Well, I am the God of Mischief, you know.” He stood awkwardly, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears, the weakness of it. “How are you feeling?” Their relationship, if that’s what it could be called, had not been established for long. He was unsure of the protocol of it all.
“Restless. I just want out of this room.”
He pursed his lips in a smirk. “Regardless, my being here certainly cannot help your healing.” He was about to take his leave when he felt a brush of skin against his hand. He looked down to see her hand and his eyes slid slowly up to her face, understanding in an instant.
iii.
Finally they had found some time to be alone. Finally. It seemed as though everything and everyone had been conspiring against them lately. Loki was aching with desire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He went to her chambers directly and when she opened the door, his greeting was a hard press of his lips against hers. He kissed her with such ferocity he felt his lips bruising, his hand blindly reaching to shut her door.
Within seconds they were a flurry of hands and lips and touches. Random pieces of clothes were discarded across the floor as they stumbled towards the bed. As she unceremoniously fell back onto it, he began his exploration. His hands mapped out her body, running along every crevice and curve twice, three times; his fingers pressing into skin as he nudged the remnants of her clothing out of the way. He knew her body well, knew just how to please her, how to make her scream his name.
He leaned forward, ghosting his lips across her navel, reveling in the way her skin shivered beneath his touch. His teeth scraped her hip bone gently as he wedged himself between her legs, kneeling at the bedside. His hands ran the length of her legs before he gripped the top of her pants, already undone, and slowly slid them down, her hips lifting as needed. He paid particular attention to her legs, gripping her calf firmly, running his lips along every inch of her skin. He moved slowly towards her navel, leaving a trail of ghostly kisses on the inside of her thigh.
“Loki, gods…” He marveled at the sound of his name, breathless upon her lips. He felt a hand bury in his hair and his lips curved upwards against her skin. He knew how badly she wanted this. Moving his head to the center of her thighs, he inhaled deeply and licked her, loving the jolt sent through her body at first contact. It was quite the sight for Thor to walk in on.
The door opened with a bang and Thor was met with the sight of one of his best friends leaning back on the edge of her bed, her head thrown back in ecstasy with the name of his brother on her lips in a throaty moan. His brother had his head buried deep within her thighs, his hands splayed across her hips.
“Sif, I - AAAGGGHHHHH.” The lovers immediately jumped apart, Sif’s hands blindly grabbing at blankets. Loki was mortified but at least clothed, even if it was only very loosely. “What is going on here?!”
Sif looked at Thor, flushed, while Loki remained where he was, his eyes trained on the wall behind Sif. “Hello to you, too, Thor. Your mother never taught you to knock?”
“You and…and… my brother?”
“Oh, don’t sound so offended, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes and turned his head towards Thor, resting his hands behind his back. He set his face to keep the embarrassment hidden. “Now would you mind?” He gestured towards the door with a nod of his head.
Thor glanced back over his shoulder and then back at Loki and Sif. He seemed to be at a loss for words. “I - you - this isn’t the end of this.” He stormed out of the room, making sure the soundly shut the door behind him.
Loki sighed. “Well, that effectively ruined the moment.”
iv.
Sif’s father dying was not a surprise. Every citizen knew him and was aware of his age and worsening illness. People had been preparing themselves for it, Sif especially. The lack of shock did not lessen the pain. He had been a beloved Asgardian and his funeral was grand, solemn, and dignified. Sif did not cry once. She showed gratitude towards those who attended to pay their respects, she was thankful for the support she received, but her steely composure remained throughout. Some could say becoming a warrior had hardened her but Loki watched her closely throughout the procession and he knew better.
He was there out of obligation as Prince of Asgard. It was Thor who wore his emotions on his sleeve, the one who remained at her side in public and gave her all the attention, who was willing to do anything she needed of him. People could say whatever they wanted about his brother, about his arrogance and recklessness, but no one could doubt the loyalty and love he had for his friends. In this instance, Loki was glad Sif had him.
It was some absurd hour of the morning when Loki woke to a light rapping on his chamber doors. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he stumbled sleepily to the door. When he opened it and saw the tearstained face of Sif, his mouth fell open slightly. Wordlessly, he let her in and closed the door silently after her. Normally when either of them snuck to the other’s personal chambers it wasn’t hard to figure out what they wanted. Tonight was different.
“Do you want me to start a fire?” His voice was quiet and heavy when he asked her. He didn’t know what to expect or do in a situation like this. He had never been particularly good at the whole emotions thing. In fact, that was one thing he and his brother had in common. Neither could seem to master the art of sentimentality. One thing he had always been grateful for was that Sif never required it. And before this night, he had never seen her cry.
Her only response was to shake her head. She looked defeated, her shoulders slumped, and it frightened Loki. He stood awkwardly before her and swallowed thickly. “I just…wanted to be near you.”
He raised his eyebrows at that. While their relationship had progressed from solely physical to much more, while he had grown to care for her more than he ever thought possible, this was still entirely new to him. “Why?” He asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Don’t tell me this past year has grown to mean nothing to you.”
“Of course it hasn’t!” Sif raised her eyebrows this time and Loki admitted defeat. She walked towards him and slipped her arms familiarly around his narrow waist, resting her head on his bare collar bone.
“I miss him,” she murmured, her lips vibrating against his skin.
He nodded and rested a hand on the back of her head. “I know.” That night he held her until she fell asleep. It was the first time he had ever done that. He was thrown by how comfortable it felt.
v.
His long fingers traced the leather, eyes scanning every title he passed until he found the one he wanted. He grabbed the book deftly and slid it from the shelf. Opening the book, he skimmed the text, to make sure it was the one he wanted. Just as he was about to turn and find a table to sit at, two warm hands pressed against his back, sliding around to his chest.
He knew who it was instantly but that did not stop him from tensing. “Sif…we’re in public.”
“So?” As he turned to face her, he saw the seduction in her eyes. “I don’t see anyone around here.” Her hands slid down to his hips, pressing her fingers down as she moved herself flush against him. “Do you?” She leaned up and ghosted her lips across his.
He shivered beneath her and went willingly when she pushed him back against the bookshelf. “We really shouldn’t.”
“Mm, you don’t seem so opposed to the idea.” She reached a hand up, tracing the tips of her fingers softly down his jaw, over his lips, along his cheekbones.
“I’m not in theory, as you well know. But I wouldn’t say this is the time or place and neither should you.”
“Well, that’s no fun.” She pouted and leaned forward, pressing soft kisses against his jawline, trailing them down to his neck.
He knew if she went any further he wouldn’t be able to resist. He grabbed her shoulders firmly and pushed her away. At her mixed expression of confusion and hurt, he sighed. “You know I won’t be able to stop myself if I let you continue. I have work to do, Sif. But if you come by later…” He leaned down, letting his lips brush the shell of her ear. “I will certainly make it up to you.”
vi.
He was gazing out from the balcony, looking all across Asgard, when he heard the knocking on his door. His cape billowed behind him, his boots echoing across the room. When he opened the door, he felt his composure fall.
“My king.” He winced at the bitterness of her words but stepped aside when she welcomed herself in. Shutting the door behind her, he turned on his heel and watched her, noticing the stiffness with which she stood. He pressed his lips together and wordlessly took the helmet from his head, setting it on the table.
Things were different now between them. They had been for some time; ever since he let the Frost Giants into Asgard on the day Thor was to be king. She still didn’t know that had been his doing and he had no intention of telling her. He didn’t doubt she had her own suspicions, however. He hated that she did. “What are you doing here, Sif? Haven’t you convinced yourself of my utter villainy? Why would you come consort with me now?”
She grit her teeth. “It’s not as simple as that and you know it.”
“No?” He took several steps towards her and observed the way she stood her ground before him. “I think you’ve made it very clear what you think of me now.” He hissed as he got close enough to hear her breathing, to feel the heat from her body.
“You know that’s not how it is, Loki. Don’t twist this into something it’s not. I care for you. You know that. But you’re making it very hard to see you as you ought to be seen. If you would only let Thor come back…you’re so much more than people realize.”
Her voice had softened and it made the guilt rest heavier on his shoulders. “Mm, that I am.” She said nothing and the silence hung thick between them. He stared down at her, lips parted, eyes pained and he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her as he always did, with passion and intensity, and he felt her gasp. Her hands clawed desperately at his shoulders and her gripped her hips firmly as he wrenched his lips away. “How does it feel? Kissing a Frost Giant? Is it disgusting?”
She furrowed her brows and put some distance between them, hands still on his shoulders. “A…what?”
He laughed sardonically. “Oh, no one’s told you? I’m Laufey’s son. I’m a Frost Giant. I’m not Odin’s son, I’m not an Asgardian.” At her speechless expression, he took several steps backwards, out of her arms. He laughed again, scathingly, as he turned his back on her. “Doesn’t it all make sense to you now? All these years?” When he turned back to her, his cheeks were stained with the faint traces of tears, his eyes red.
“Loki…” She was breathless as she watched him.
“I was never appreciated because I never belonged here!” He bit his words off. “I am part of that…that monstrous race. When all I wanted was to be accepted here as my bro - …as Thor’s equal. And whatever you or anyone else says, I have never wanted to harm Asgard.”
A look of guilt flashed across her face. Her strides towards him were determined and long. When she reached him, she immediately took his face into her hands. “You may not have been born as an Asgardian but that does not change who you really are.” She leaned up to kiss him tenderly and when she tasted salt, she kissed harder. She felt his arms wrap clumsily around her, holding her tight, as if he let go, he would lose her.
Clothes were discarded hastily and he buried his hands deep within her hair, breathing heavily. He couldn’t wait and he pressed her firmly up against a wall. He lifted her, letting her legs wrap around his waist and with one hand, he held her arms above her head. He looked at her, staring deep into her eyes, and his face and emotions were a mess. But she leaned her head forward and kissed the tear tracks away.
When he thrust into her without warning, she gasped loudly, that gasp morphing into a moan just seconds later. He held her wrists firm in his hand, his hips moving faster, her panting becoming heavier. He moved his lips all across her chest and he felt her lock her ankles behind his back, tighten her legs around him. He never slowed, rotating his hips just so, his name a scream on her lips.
As he pulled his head back, he felt the shudder run throughout her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She opened her eyes blearily and looked down at him. He was still in her and she groaned when he slowly slipped himself out. She felt her knees start to buckle when he set her down but he held her up with ease. He put a knee between her legs and she bit back a moan.
“Do you still distrust me?” He let go of her wrists and placed both his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head.
“I never stopped. Or perhaps I never started. But I believe you when you say you don’t want to bring war into our realm. You were right about Thor but you never should have done what you did.”
“You would make a fine queen one day.” He said it contemptibly, to hide the truth, and wiped the shock from her face with a kiss as they fell, as they always had, into a perfect dysfunction.
loki/sif (thor); strong r
~3,440 words
five times loki and sif don't have sex and one time they do. comedy, angst, sexual tension, the whole gambit.
notes: major, major thanks to mizuhime_chan and zombres, my lovely friends who read this over and flailed and laughed at me and made this possible. and let me bounce ideas off them of situations where you wouldn't have sex. that was definitely a fun dicussion.
The first time Loki and Sif met as children, she had no qualms about telling him exactly how she felt. It was nothing he hadn't heard before; he was weird, he looked funny, why did he act like that. But there was something about the way she said it, the way she stuck her tongue out. That was probably what drove him to cut off her Asgardian golden hair. When it grew back, they matched. She could make fun of him no longer for that.
He hadn't counted on her scorn afterwards, nor his father's vehement disapproval.
She latched onto Thor-not in any co-dependent manner, of course-and Loki watched their adventures across Asgard, occasionally taking part along with the Warriors 3. They grew up together and Loki wouldn't have asked for another childhood.
Neither of them could pinpoint one single moment when their relationship began. At first it was purely physical, simply a way to get some release. They never told anyone, even as it developed beyond the physical bounds. Outside of their chambers they acted no differently, though if one looked close enough, they may have been able to see the shared glances between the lovers.
i.
In Asgard, nothing was ever done at less than one hundred and ten percent. Every banquet, gala, ball, ceremony, and celebration was done with every citizen in tow, lasting for hours into the morning. People drank and were merry, most not remembering much of the night before. Even for the more tedious events, things were done on the grandest of scales. Despite all this, Loki could never say he was much impressed by them. They were either dull or too loud for his tastes, the latter of which had more of Volstagg's boisterousness than he ever needed.
Today was of the former. It was a ceremony in the main hall; most citizens were in attendance and as a Prince of Asgard, Loki’s presence was a necessity. The Lady Sif, one of the foremost Asgardian Warrors, was also required to attend. Normally this would not be at all an issue. Except for the fact that just before, he nearly had Sif completely unclothed in his chambers before either of them remembered where they had to be in mere minutes.
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her and every time he looked across the stairs in her direction, she would stare back unflinchingly, her eyes heady with lust. To keep himself composed, he had to continually look away. He tried not to look at her at all but he could feel her gaze burning into him and he had to look back, his eyes tracing her every line; the curve of her neck, the shape of her armor against her thigh, the way her fingers splayed across her hip.
His lips went dry and he licked them absentmindedly, which only seemed to intensify the look in her eyes. The only word he could think to appropriately explain what he was experiencing right now was torture. This was pure, absolute, unadulterated torture. And Sif was, very clearly, enjoying and milking it for all it was worth, which only made it worse. She would very subtly lick her lips or shift her stance, craning her neck as her hair fell just so, revealing that sliver of skin above her collar bone that he loved to run his tongue over.
He didn’t know how much longer he could take of this. His father kept talking and it seemed never-ending. The longer it went, the harder he became. He was lucky in that his attire gave nothing away. He just needed to make sure he didn’t, which was becoming more difficult with every passing moment.
When the ceremony at last ended, Loki looked over at Sif and they shared a mutual look of desperate hunger. That was when Odin announced an impromptu banquet.
ii.
They had taken the Bifröst to Vanaheim to help their sister race. It wasn’t supposed to take long or turn for the worse. Yet that was exactly what had happened. Loki couldn’t trace from point A to point C. Point B was missing. Somewhere after arriving on Vanaheim, they had found themselves in the middle of a battle.
He ducked to avoid the slash of steel and thrust his weapon forward, spinning around on his heel. He scanned the battle scene, finding his brother and the Warriors 3 in the heat of war. He couldn’t find Sif and swung his head from side to side until he felt something slam into his back. When he looked over his shoulder, fully prepared to swing, he stopped short at the sight of Sif.
“Hi.” The excitement in her expression was electric, her face flushed from the skirmish. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, taking him by surprise. The grip on his weapon slackened for a moment but then she was gone, running and launching herself off a ledge, throwing herself back into battle. He went slack jawed and wavered for a moment. He probably would have continued to watch her fight, eyes glued to the way her body moved, imagining things he really shouldn’t be imagining in the thick of battle, had another enemy not suddenly come at him.
That really wasn’t fair.
He stepped delicately into the room and glanced around. No one was there. No one except for Sif, of course. He saw her smile weakly at his appearance and he wondered briefly if this was really such a good idea. Approaching the side of the bed, he looked down at her. She looked so small, so frail. It was not how he was used to seeing her.
“I…” He cleared his throat. “I had plans for when we got back. Apparently they’ll have to wait.”
“Plans, hm? That sounds very…mischievous.”
“Well, I am the God of Mischief, you know.” He stood awkwardly, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears, the weakness of it. “How are you feeling?” Their relationship, if that’s what it could be called, had not been established for long. He was unsure of the protocol of it all.
“Restless. I just want out of this room.”
He pursed his lips in a smirk. “Regardless, my being here certainly cannot help your healing.” He was about to take his leave when he felt a brush of skin against his hand. He looked down to see her hand and his eyes slid slowly up to her face, understanding in an instant.
iii.
Finally they had found some time to be alone. Finally. It seemed as though everything and everyone had been conspiring against them lately. Loki was aching with desire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He went to her chambers directly and when she opened the door, his greeting was a hard press of his lips against hers. He kissed her with such ferocity he felt his lips bruising, his hand blindly reaching to shut her door.
Within seconds they were a flurry of hands and lips and touches. Random pieces of clothes were discarded across the floor as they stumbled towards the bed. As she unceremoniously fell back onto it, he began his exploration. His hands mapped out her body, running along every crevice and curve twice, three times; his fingers pressing into skin as he nudged the remnants of her clothing out of the way. He knew her body well, knew just how to please her, how to make her scream his name.
He leaned forward, ghosting his lips across her navel, reveling in the way her skin shivered beneath his touch. His teeth scraped her hip bone gently as he wedged himself between her legs, kneeling at the bedside. His hands ran the length of her legs before he gripped the top of her pants, already undone, and slowly slid them down, her hips lifting as needed. He paid particular attention to her legs, gripping her calf firmly, running his lips along every inch of her skin. He moved slowly towards her navel, leaving a trail of ghostly kisses on the inside of her thigh.
“Loki, gods…” He marveled at the sound of his name, breathless upon her lips. He felt a hand bury in his hair and his lips curved upwards against her skin. He knew how badly she wanted this. Moving his head to the center of her thighs, he inhaled deeply and licked her, loving the jolt sent through her body at first contact. It was quite the sight for Thor to walk in on.
The door opened with a bang and Thor was met with the sight of one of his best friends leaning back on the edge of her bed, her head thrown back in ecstasy with the name of his brother on her lips in a throaty moan. His brother had his head buried deep within her thighs, his hands splayed across her hips.
“Sif, I - AAAGGGHHHHH.” The lovers immediately jumped apart, Sif’s hands blindly grabbing at blankets. Loki was mortified but at least clothed, even if it was only very loosely. “What is going on here?!”
Sif looked at Thor, flushed, while Loki remained where he was, his eyes trained on the wall behind Sif. “Hello to you, too, Thor. Your mother never taught you to knock?”
“You and…and… my brother?”
“Oh, don’t sound so offended, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes and turned his head towards Thor, resting his hands behind his back. He set his face to keep the embarrassment hidden. “Now would you mind?” He gestured towards the door with a nod of his head.
Thor glanced back over his shoulder and then back at Loki and Sif. He seemed to be at a loss for words. “I - you - this isn’t the end of this.” He stormed out of the room, making sure the soundly shut the door behind him.
Loki sighed. “Well, that effectively ruined the moment.”
iv.
Sif’s father dying was not a surprise. Every citizen knew him and was aware of his age and worsening illness. People had been preparing themselves for it, Sif especially. The lack of shock did not lessen the pain. He had been a beloved Asgardian and his funeral was grand, solemn, and dignified. Sif did not cry once. She showed gratitude towards those who attended to pay their respects, she was thankful for the support she received, but her steely composure remained throughout. Some could say becoming a warrior had hardened her but Loki watched her closely throughout the procession and he knew better.
He was there out of obligation as Prince of Asgard. It was Thor who wore his emotions on his sleeve, the one who remained at her side in public and gave her all the attention, who was willing to do anything she needed of him. People could say whatever they wanted about his brother, about his arrogance and recklessness, but no one could doubt the loyalty and love he had for his friends. In this instance, Loki was glad Sif had him.
It was some absurd hour of the morning when Loki woke to a light rapping on his chamber doors. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he stumbled sleepily to the door. When he opened it and saw the tearstained face of Sif, his mouth fell open slightly. Wordlessly, he let her in and closed the door silently after her. Normally when either of them snuck to the other’s personal chambers it wasn’t hard to figure out what they wanted. Tonight was different.
“Do you want me to start a fire?” His voice was quiet and heavy when he asked her. He didn’t know what to expect or do in a situation like this. He had never been particularly good at the whole emotions thing. In fact, that was one thing he and his brother had in common. Neither could seem to master the art of sentimentality. One thing he had always been grateful for was that Sif never required it. And before this night, he had never seen her cry.
Her only response was to shake her head. She looked defeated, her shoulders slumped, and it frightened Loki. He stood awkwardly before her and swallowed thickly. “I just…wanted to be near you.”
He raised his eyebrows at that. While their relationship had progressed from solely physical to much more, while he had grown to care for her more than he ever thought possible, this was still entirely new to him. “Why?” He asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Don’t tell me this past year has grown to mean nothing to you.”
“Of course it hasn’t!” Sif raised her eyebrows this time and Loki admitted defeat. She walked towards him and slipped her arms familiarly around his narrow waist, resting her head on his bare collar bone.
“I miss him,” she murmured, her lips vibrating against his skin.
He nodded and rested a hand on the back of her head. “I know.” That night he held her until she fell asleep. It was the first time he had ever done that. He was thrown by how comfortable it felt.
v.
His long fingers traced the leather, eyes scanning every title he passed until he found the one he wanted. He grabbed the book deftly and slid it from the shelf. Opening the book, he skimmed the text, to make sure it was the one he wanted. Just as he was about to turn and find a table to sit at, two warm hands pressed against his back, sliding around to his chest.
He knew who it was instantly but that did not stop him from tensing. “Sif…we’re in public.”
“So?” As he turned to face her, he saw the seduction in her eyes. “I don’t see anyone around here.” Her hands slid down to his hips, pressing her fingers down as she moved herself flush against him. “Do you?” She leaned up and ghosted her lips across his.
He shivered beneath her and went willingly when she pushed him back against the bookshelf. “We really shouldn’t.”
“Mm, you don’t seem so opposed to the idea.” She reached a hand up, tracing the tips of her fingers softly down his jaw, over his lips, along his cheekbones.
“I’m not in theory, as you well know. But I wouldn’t say this is the time or place and neither should you.”
“Well, that’s no fun.” She pouted and leaned forward, pressing soft kisses against his jawline, trailing them down to his neck.
He knew if she went any further he wouldn’t be able to resist. He grabbed her shoulders firmly and pushed her away. At her mixed expression of confusion and hurt, he sighed. “You know I won’t be able to stop myself if I let you continue. I have work to do, Sif. But if you come by later…” He leaned down, letting his lips brush the shell of her ear. “I will certainly make it up to you.”
vi.
He was gazing out from the balcony, looking all across Asgard, when he heard the knocking on his door. His cape billowed behind him, his boots echoing across the room. When he opened the door, he felt his composure fall.
“My king.” He winced at the bitterness of her words but stepped aside when she welcomed herself in. Shutting the door behind her, he turned on his heel and watched her, noticing the stiffness with which she stood. He pressed his lips together and wordlessly took the helmet from his head, setting it on the table.
Things were different now between them. They had been for some time; ever since he let the Frost Giants into Asgard on the day Thor was to be king. She still didn’t know that had been his doing and he had no intention of telling her. He didn’t doubt she had her own suspicions, however. He hated that she did. “What are you doing here, Sif? Haven’t you convinced yourself of my utter villainy? Why would you come consort with me now?”
She grit her teeth. “It’s not as simple as that and you know it.”
“No?” He took several steps towards her and observed the way she stood her ground before him. “I think you’ve made it very clear what you think of me now.” He hissed as he got close enough to hear her breathing, to feel the heat from her body.
“You know that’s not how it is, Loki. Don’t twist this into something it’s not. I care for you. You know that. But you’re making it very hard to see you as you ought to be seen. If you would only let Thor come back…you’re so much more than people realize.”
Her voice had softened and it made the guilt rest heavier on his shoulders. “Mm, that I am.” She said nothing and the silence hung thick between them. He stared down at her, lips parted, eyes pained and he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her as he always did, with passion and intensity, and he felt her gasp. Her hands clawed desperately at his shoulders and her gripped her hips firmly as he wrenched his lips away. “How does it feel? Kissing a Frost Giant? Is it disgusting?”
She furrowed her brows and put some distance between them, hands still on his shoulders. “A…what?”
He laughed sardonically. “Oh, no one’s told you? I’m Laufey’s son. I’m a Frost Giant. I’m not Odin’s son, I’m not an Asgardian.” At her speechless expression, he took several steps backwards, out of her arms. He laughed again, scathingly, as he turned his back on her. “Doesn’t it all make sense to you now? All these years?” When he turned back to her, his cheeks were stained with the faint traces of tears, his eyes red.
“Loki…” She was breathless as she watched him.
“I was never appreciated because I never belonged here!” He bit his words off. “I am part of that…that monstrous race. When all I wanted was to be accepted here as my bro - …as Thor’s equal. And whatever you or anyone else says, I have never wanted to harm Asgard.”
A look of guilt flashed across her face. Her strides towards him were determined and long. When she reached him, she immediately took his face into her hands. “You may not have been born as an Asgardian but that does not change who you really are.” She leaned up to kiss him tenderly and when she tasted salt, she kissed harder. She felt his arms wrap clumsily around her, holding her tight, as if he let go, he would lose her.
Clothes were discarded hastily and he buried his hands deep within her hair, breathing heavily. He couldn’t wait and he pressed her firmly up against a wall. He lifted her, letting her legs wrap around his waist and with one hand, he held her arms above her head. He looked at her, staring deep into her eyes, and his face and emotions were a mess. But she leaned her head forward and kissed the tear tracks away.
When he thrust into her without warning, she gasped loudly, that gasp morphing into a moan just seconds later. He held her wrists firm in his hand, his hips moving faster, her panting becoming heavier. He moved his lips all across her chest and he felt her lock her ankles behind his back, tighten her legs around him. He never slowed, rotating his hips just so, his name a scream on her lips.
As he pulled his head back, he felt the shudder run throughout her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She opened her eyes blearily and looked down at him. He was still in her and she groaned when he slowly slipped himself out. She felt her knees start to buckle when he set her down but he held her up with ease. He put a knee between her legs and she bit back a moan.
“Do you still distrust me?” He let go of her wrists and placed both his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head.
“I never stopped. Or perhaps I never started. But I believe you when you say you don’t want to bring war into our realm. You were right about Thor but you never should have done what you did.”
“You would make a fine queen one day.” He said it contemptibly, to hide the truth, and wiped the shock from her face with a kiss as they fell, as they always had, into a perfect dysfunction.