ON YOUR MOUTH LIKE LIQUOR: A PORN FI(ght)C-ATHON BC IT'S NOT A BATTLE
myself and magisterequitum were very sad that the porn battle wasn't happening this year so we talked about having a mini ficathon focused on well... porn. so that's what we did. BOW CHICKA POW.
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Sif enters their chambers and her blood is already pumping hot and fast. Her day spent in the training ring was full of challenges and victories and although her muscles are pleasantly sore, her body still hums with another type of energy yet unspent. It’s not uncommon for her battle lust to seep into lust in this way, and her lover is ever game.
The candlelight flickers sensuously and Sif practically purrs, seeing Loki dressed in dark, loose clothing and sitting up in their bed, a large book in his hands. Reading, always reading. She lets the noise hum deep in her throat and stretches her arms above her head, the motion lifting the hem of her nightgown higher up her thighs, putting her long legs on showcase. Loki, however, hardly takes notice of her or her sculpted limbs, his eyes flicking quickly up to her and back down to the worn pages of the spellbook.
That won’t do.
Moving like liquid, she makes her way to their bed and climbs up near where his feet are crossed atop the luxurious silks of their sheets. “Loki,” her voice is deep and her hand rests on his shin, teasing it’s way slowly higher.
“Hmm?” he intones but his eyes do not leave the page.
“My day has been truly brutal, violent,” she digs her nails lightly into his thigh now. Her blood is thrumming. He hardly shifts, glancing at her quickly once more, distracted.
“I am sure you will sleep well tonight.”
“I plan on it,” she grins. ““But first...” Sif crawls her way up the bed, ducking under that damned book to sit herself in his lap, pushing against him. He can’t ignore her now.
“Sif,” his voice is a scold. Her lips find his neck, tonguing gently at the spot she knows he likes. “What are you doing?”
“Loki, I want,” she breathes and rolls against him with a moan. Perhaps he cannot feel her heat, how wet she already is through his trousers, but her bare mound can certainly feel the pleasure of the solidness of his thighs.
“Sif, this spell is very complicated. I need to concentrate.” She can see out of the corner of her eye he is still looking at that blasted book over her shoulder. She huffs at that, sliding her hands under his shirt and rocking against him again. She doesn’t like being ignored.
“I propose you concentrate on the woman in your lap,” she speaks into his neck again.
“I’m sorry, Sif. Not tonight.” His voice is final, and she pauses in her rocking. Slowly she sits straight, removing her hands and shifting off of him.
“Fine.” She certainly won’t beg for him, but she allows herself to flop dramatically to the mattress next to him with a long sigh. He hardly even rolls his eyes before they return to the pages of his book. She sighs again and shift against the sheets. The cool silk feels nice against her heated skin and she groans, his rebuff of her advances has done little to dampen the fire in her belly.
The shieldmaiden turns her head towards him again, eyes tracing the long lines of his hands holding the leather of the book and she wants nothing more than to feel them against her skin. If he desires to run his fingers down that spine instead of hers, so be it, but she won’t deny herself the release she seeks.
She shuts her eyes against the dusky room and brings her own hands to her breasts, brushing her nipples through the silk of her nightie, down her stomach and up the inside of her thighs, thinking of the way those damn fingers of his know how to tease and thrill her so.
A warm sigh escapes her lips and she sinks deeper into the fluff of the bed, letting her hands wander and rouse. She has spent her day with the most inelegant of men, some utterly oafish and barbaric. She craves something more graceful, refined. Her mind conjures the thought of Loki’s whip-like body, long and lean and the way his kisses are both elegant and utterly obscene, drawing a soft moan from her and a lingering finger against her throat and collarbone.
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The sighs and breathy moans are leaving her mouth quicker now and she finally lets her hand find her clit, the pleasure of it drawing her eyes open again and she sees him.
Loki sits stock-still next to her, his book still held in front of his chest. But now the tome is forgotten completely, his attention fully captured on her hands. On her.
Sif smiles at the sight of his mouth open slightly, his breath audible and works her hand faster and breathes his name. His eyes meet hers and she shudders at the sight, desire painted across his face. Lightning quick he shifts to kneel beside her, his book carelessly dropped to the sheet in a crumpled mess, she notices with satisfaction. His eyes dark with lust, he reaches for her.
“No,” she snaps and his hand pauses. “You declined this. You are only allowed to watch, unless I tell you otherwise.”
He groans, dropping to the mattress beside her. His hand hovers near her hip but he obeys. “Sif,” it is a desperate sound, a protest and a pleasure.
She shakes her head. Perhaps it is cruel of her but that is the nature of War; vindictive and vengeful. Of course her lover has the right to decline her, but she will make him loyal to his word.
Looking into his eyes, she continues to touch herself, drinking in the agony in his face, hearing the hitches in his breathing, feeling the heat of his body so near her. She can practically feel his desire rolling across her skin. The heat in her belly twists higher, she knows that she is close and tries to slow herself, breathing deeper, making it last.
She considers giving him only this, but she is feeling generous and lifts one hand to him, offering, and he does not hesitate to take her glistening fingers into his mouth, groaning as if he is the one on the edge of climax, tonguing and sucking at her skin. It is like lightning to her cunt. She moans and her other hand moves with quicker strokes, swearing she feels the heat and wet of his mouth between her legs. Her back arches and she cries out her release, the steady rhythm he knows she likes best licked against her knuckles as she shudders through waves of hazy pleasure.
When she comes back to herself again, she pulls her hand from her prince’s mouth, stroking a hand against his face flushed bright with hunger. She leans in for a kiss, quick and draws back to turn away from him onto her side. He chases. Pressing to her, his hands running against her waist, his breath on her neck, she can feel his stiffness against her back. “Sif,” his voice is like silk, deep and desperate.
“Hmm?” she hums, reaching for her own book of war tales from the bedside table and opening it to her mark, settling against her pillow. Loki freezes behind her. “Sif?”
“Not tonight, Loki” she sighs, licking a finger to turn her page.
“You cannot be serious,” his voice sounds nearly frantic, and she lifts her book higher to hide a smile.
“I’m exhausted. I plan on sleeping very well tonight.” Her voice is final.
Loki whimpers behind her, flopping back against the bed.
(why not put it on ao3 too)
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