he gets all the best treats that's whyredinmyledgerJuly 8 2012, 05:18:19 UTC
She can't pretend to understand it completely. Sometimes she thinks it's better to just leave the mystery alone. Poke too much and you don't always like the answers you get. But this, she can appreciate it. She can appreciate that for one crazy day he's willing to play sweet and normal and even happy. A time out from their lives that they both need. "I'm sure you will."
Natasha gasped in mock surprise. "You're not taking credit for something? What is this? I don't understand. Who are you?" She laughed finally as she bumped her shoulder against his and took a moment to just enjoy the walk. She arched her eyebrow as she turned her head towards him again and smirked. "Is that what you're calling it now? Well, since I don't want anyone else captaining it then yes, I will be your raft of love captain, Loki." She leaned in close, fingers slipping easily between a gap that the spacing of the buttons on his shirt allows. She touches his bare skin, rubbing it as she smiles up at him. "I'll make you submit to my lash anyway when we're alone and not in front of children, but I accept you terms."
he'd better. He'd be SO super pissed if he didn'ttrickstertongueJuly 9 2012, 03:49:16 UTC
"There does seem to be a first time for everything, after all," Loki murmurs as she leans in toward him, eyes closing for a moment behind his dark sunglasses, and he -- lets go. Simply enjoys her closeness, the clever little tease of her fingers as they sneak their way into his shirt, so warm from the sun. He laughs, and it's a bright and carefree sound as he opens his eyes and leans in toward her, a hand resting with easy familiarity on her lower back. "Oh, my Captain, how I long to be subjected to the harsh discipline of your rule."
He bends his head for a short, sweet kiss, before straightening and turning back toward the attraction. "Come then, Natasha, let us find your mighty vessel and brave the drink."
and no one likes a pissy Loki. nope.redinmyledgerJuly 9 2012, 03:57:28 UTC
The laughter sends pleasurable ripples down her spine and she knows she could get used to the sound. Even if this was something they only ever did once in a while it would be worth it just for that smile, and that laughter. She rubbed his skin once more before sliding her fingers back out and then slipping her hand around his waist so that she could tuck it in his back pocket. "You better remember that when I get you working hard."
She laughed again herself before pointing at one of the rafts. "What about that one? Still looks relatively new and safe. No tape covering up puncture marks."
Re: and no one likes a pissy Loki. nope.trickstertongueJuly 12 2012, 17:45:14 UTC
That easy intimacy, her hand in his pocket, as though it were the simplest, most natural thing in the world -- well. If he could keep anything after this day, take it with them back into the weird spaces of the rest of their lives, it would be that. Simple, natural. Easy.
"How hard do you intend to work me? I feel I ought to know, in case I need to rest up a bit first."
His eyes are scanning the rafts, and he gives a rueful little shrug. "It looks safe indeed, though not quite as waterproof as one may like." They step forward, the only ones in line, and Loki waves aside the half-hearted offer of assistance from the stoned-looking teenager manning the "controls". He steps agilely into the raft, reaching up a hand to help her in. He knows she doesn't really need one, but it's the thought that counts, sometimes.
It really was nice. Being able to just let go and not question every word out of his mouth. Not be on her toes and trying to think a step ahead in case he was up to something.
It was all gone and Natasha realised, perhaps even let herself hope, that he was genuine. That some part of him meant this. Wanted this. Wanted her.
She laughed again as she rest her hands on his shoulders so that he'd have to take her waist and help her in. She still intended to use her feminine wiles after all. Even in small ways. "Let's just say it won't be unlike the effort I forced you to exert when our paths crossed in your cell. After the warm up."
"You mean as you would like," she added after a beat. "Would it really be so bad if you let yourself get wet? Maybe we could both smell like sunshine."
He does -- he means this, he wants her. Will not acknowledge or examine these feelings past that point, does not allow himself even idly the thought of finding their hidden truths and meanings. It is . . . a painful exercise, perhaps pointlessly so, and he will not allow himself the melancholic luxury of wallowing in that pain.
Loki appreciates every one of her wiles, and he sets his hands on her hip with a brilliant smile. "Oh," he says, lifting her easily from the wooden platform and setting her down gently on the raft. It hardly wobbles, unlike the raft of the couple in front of them -- they may play at being normal, but they each have a predator's grace and an assassin's balance; Loki does not notice this little missing piece of the deception, instead leaning in to kiss her before sinking down to get settled. "I suppose not," he says, eyes dancing, even though he's paste an artful pout on his lips. "Though I'd rather smell of moonlight than sunshine. And my hair --" His eyes flash, the pout turning sultry. "It would simply be ruined."
"Oh," she repeated with a wicked grin. He knew all too well just how hard she had worked him, and she hadn't regretted it for a moment. After all it had opened up a world of opportunities. This trip - this time out in normalcy was like a test to see if they really could operate on any level. No leather, no metal, no cells, no cuffs, no threats. Just them.
She crouched and turned to lower herself between his legs. She leaned back against him and planted her feet as her knees became bent. A hand found his thigh and she gave it a fond squeeze. "And we can't have your hair ruined. If it's moonlight you prefer, then may I make another suggestion just to let this day stretch out longer?"
He wraped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her hair as she settles in between his legs. For one glorious moment there was nothing but that sunshine smell of her, bright and strong.
Simple. Easy. Normal. How much was a game and how much was truth? He often thought that he would never really know. The question then became: how much did it matter, where the seams were between the truth and the game? Could they live in that space where the two overlapped and joined?
"I'm listening," he said softly, eyes closing for a moment at that little squeeze on his leg. "I pay great attention to any suggestion that would prolong my fun."
It was a change for her to be thought of as light. As something that belonged in daylight. So often even Natasha had always just associated herself with shadow. She slid her other hand along his arm and threaded their fingers as she revelled in the embrace.
The Widow was at the point she just didn't care. She liked whatever this was. She liked that there was never any sure way of knowing what was real and what wasn't. The game, the truth... for the two of them it had probably never been separated. It was how they had been made to operate. Maybe that's why they worked - they already spoke the same language.
Her lips curled again and she turned her head to catch his lips just briefly. Her hand stayed on his leg, fingers sliding around so that she was cupping the side of his thigh. "We're close to the ocean. I was thinking maybe we should see if there's one of those hotels with little bungalows right on the beach front. Spend the night there. Our own moonlit strip of beach."
Natasha gasped in mock surprise. "You're not taking credit for something? What is this? I don't understand. Who are you?" She laughed finally as she bumped her shoulder against his and took a moment to just enjoy the walk. She arched her eyebrow as she turned her head towards him again and smirked. "Is that what you're calling it now? Well, since I don't want anyone else captaining it then yes, I will be your raft of love captain, Loki." She leaned in close, fingers slipping easily between a gap that the spacing of the buttons on his shirt allows. She touches his bare skin, rubbing it as she smiles up at him. "I'll make you submit to my lash anyway when we're alone and not in front of children, but I accept you terms."
Reply
He bends his head for a short, sweet kiss, before straightening and turning back toward the attraction. "Come then, Natasha, let us find your mighty vessel and brave the drink."
Reply
She laughed again herself before pointing at one of the rafts. "What about that one? Still looks relatively new and safe. No tape covering up puncture marks."
Reply
"How hard do you intend to work me? I feel I ought to know, in case I need to rest up a bit first."
His eyes are scanning the rafts, and he gives a rueful little shrug. "It looks safe indeed, though not quite as waterproof as one may like." They step forward, the only ones in line, and Loki waves aside the half-hearted offer of assistance from the stoned-looking teenager manning the "controls". He steps agilely into the raft, reaching up a hand to help her in. He knows she doesn't really need one, but it's the thought that counts, sometimes.
Reply
It was all gone and Natasha realised, perhaps even let herself hope, that he was genuine. That some part of him meant this. Wanted this. Wanted her.
She laughed again as she rest her hands on his shoulders so that he'd have to take her waist and help her in. She still intended to use her feminine wiles after all. Even in small ways. "Let's just say it won't be unlike the effort I forced you to exert when our paths crossed in your cell. After the warm up."
"You mean as you would like," she added after a beat. "Would it really be so bad if you let yourself get wet? Maybe we could both smell like sunshine."
Reply
Loki appreciates every one of her wiles, and he sets his hands on her hip with a brilliant smile. "Oh," he says, lifting her easily from the wooden platform and setting her down gently on the raft. It hardly wobbles, unlike the raft of the couple in front of them -- they may play at being normal, but they each have a predator's grace and an assassin's balance; Loki does not notice this little missing piece of the deception, instead leaning in to kiss her before sinking down to get settled. "I suppose not," he says, eyes dancing, even though he's paste an artful pout on his lips. "Though I'd rather smell of moonlight than sunshine. And my hair --" His eyes flash, the pout turning sultry. "It would simply be ruined."
Reply
She crouched and turned to lower herself between his legs. She leaned back against him and planted her feet as her knees became bent. A hand found his thigh and she gave it a fond squeeze. "And we can't have your hair ruined. If it's moonlight you prefer, then may I make another suggestion just to let this day stretch out longer?"
Reply
Simple. Easy. Normal. How much was a game and how much was truth? He often thought that he would never really know. The question then became: how much did it matter, where the seams were between the truth and the game? Could they live in that space where the two overlapped and joined?
"I'm listening," he said softly, eyes closing for a moment at that little squeeze on his leg. "I pay great attention to any suggestion that would prolong my fun."
Reply
The Widow was at the point she just didn't care. She liked whatever this was. She liked that there was never any sure way of knowing what was real and what wasn't. The game, the truth... for the two of them it had probably never been separated. It was how they had been made to operate. Maybe that's why they worked - they already spoke the same language.
Her lips curled again and she turned her head to catch his lips just briefly. Her hand stayed on his leg, fingers sliding around so that she was cupping the side of his thigh. "We're close to the ocean. I was thinking maybe we should see if there's one of those hotels with little bungalows right on the beach front. Spend the night there. Our own moonlit strip of beach."
Reply
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