(Untitled)

[lone_defender]

The Absolute Power Meme

Maybe it's a convenient twist of fortune and chance, maybe it's a game between friends or lovers, maybe it's a vacation of restraint, or maybe it's sweet revenge. Whatever the case is, suddenly you find you can make people do anything you like, simply by telling them to. Or maybe just that one person. And boy does that power

Comments

Re: Loki // Female, MCU

[hammerstrike_x]

There's a flash of -- of almost pleasant memory. Many, in fact, layered on atop the other, of better days. Good days. Days now, regrettably, long past. Memories of Loki: happy, her laughter chiming like silver bells, grabbing a lock of his hair and yanking teasingly on it as she tossed some sly and cheeky remark in his direction, his own laughter echoing it turn as he leaned in to drop a kiss on the top of her head. Love; simply and pure and uncomplicated by the twists and daggers of time.

Love that's been tainted, corrupted. Love gone dark and feral, pushed passed the bounds of simplicity into something mixed with rage. That still simmers beneath the surface, kept alive by nothing more now than foolish, desperate hope.

The pat to his head, like the reward to a favoured hound for a good trick of a successful hunt, sends a bit of that rage seething through him, and he bites back a growl by force of will alone. Dogs growl, not Princes, and he refuses to give her the satisfaction.

Her words cut through him, and he finds himself lifting his head, some -- though by no means all -- of the tension in his shoulders dissipating at her command. His features twist, fighting themselves, before finally settling into a smile. It's not the huge smile he would have gifted her -- and freely! -- in those past days, but it's a close second. His eyes, however, remain stormy even as he looks up at her. "I am happy and more than happy," he says, his voice still uneven as the words tumble from his lips, "to find any way to please my sister."

Oh, Thor. :(

[silver_deceit]

That storm rolls visibly through his eyes and the hint of brontide in his voice is unmistakable to her ears. Memories of her own flit through her mind; happier times, simpler, and those that were anything but. Battles they'd fought together, his berserker rages-- a rage that she knows lies just under the surface. Even now.

Her hands wander down to his shoulder and follow the line of muscle. All of the tan, golden skin on display for her use. He's there for her pleasure. Whatever fondness she feels needs to be pushed back, buried as far and as deep down as it can go. There's no room for that here and now, now when she's so close to having everything she wants, everything she's worked for within her reach.

"Rise, Thor. I wish for you to undress me."

the fun in dysfunctional, lordy lordy

[hammerstrike_x]

It's harder to keep his expression neutral when her hands slip over his shoulders, her touch cool and sweet and somehow good. How could it be good, when it's given in such a way, under such circumstances? Glory and ruin he hates this, this power she's found, hates the way it's twisted everything between them.

He stands, slowly. Stands until he towers over her, looks down at his sweet sister, and finds his hands rising, reaching for her her dress. He begins to unlace her, slowly and with infinite care. The mask of his features slips as the bodice of her dress opens, as he eases her dress off her shoulders, as it falls to pool at the ground around her feet. A fleeting storm of emotions before he gets himself back under control: rage, disbelief, something like sorrow, and under them, around them, through them, desire.

True and valid

[silver_deceit]

Loki meets his eyes to study the play of emotions as they cross his face. She recognizes each and every one of them because they resonate inside her as well. Still, Loki is Loki.

Trickster.

Liar.

She keeps her own emotions, the truth of them, close to her heart. It's a place where she won't allow him anymore. She can't afford to. It makes her weak.

"This has been dirty work, brother. I wish to have a bath, and I wish for you to draw it. You do remember how I like my baths, don't you?"

[hammerstrike_x]

He nods, curtly, everything locked down once more. "Of course, my lady sister," he says, and the words are clipped, the tone careful. "I am in this as all things your humble servant."

He turns, unable to keep his eyes from raking across her body as he does, hating himself for this show of weakness even as a part of him hungers for her, as a part of him always has and always will. At this moment he would do anything to rid himself of that hunger.

It's the work of a few moments to have everything ready for her. Thor kneels, waiting, beside the large, sunken tub -- on easily large enough to hold four comfortably, with sculpted seats for lounging. The water's hot, just on the good side of comfort, and stained a dark forest green the color of Loki's eyes courtesy of a handful of bathing salts that have given the room a rich, dark scent. Candles flicker from sconces scattered along the marble wall, sending shadows flickering over the water, the marble, Thor's naked shoulders. A low bench has been readied with a stack of towels, a thick, white robe resting beside them. Next to Thor is a small wire basket of her preferred soaps and a handful of bathing clothes.

Oh yes, he remembers well how best to draw her bath.

[silver_deceit]

Loki waits for him to do as she's bid, content to let him go about his instructions without hovering. She's confident in her own abilities and with this spell in particular. While she's not sure what exactly she expects, in what way she thinks he'll fail, she's genuinely surprised when she enters to find there's not been a single detail or preference over looked. It's a shock to know he'd paid such careful attention in times past down to her favorite soaps.

Moving toward the tub, she stops and rests her hand against his broad shoulder once more. Her face is not quite as stoic as it had been but neither is it open or soft. There's but a moment's hesitation before she relays her next command to the Thunder god she's managed to bring so low.

"You'll join me in the tub. My neck and shoulders are tense-- something I expect you to see to. After a massage, you'll bathe me."

Her mind goes to the first time he'd ever washed her hair for her. It had been sensual beyond words and something she never would have thought him capable of. Despite his size and strength, Thor could be incredibly gentle. Graceful, even. Hands that were so capable and so very adept at destruction could manage the most delicate and soothing of touches.

[hammerstrike_x]

Once more her touch sends a warring, fleeting troop of emotions tearing through him, brought into even clearer relief by the very familiarity of the surroundings. How many times, over the long years of their lives, since that first and surprising time, had they been here, just like this? He does not know. All Thor knows is that in each of those other times, when he joined her here in her bathing chambers or joined with her in her bed, it had been under his own power. Yes, sometimes in anger -- with so many years between them, and his own temper and her mercurial nature at play, their couplings had not always been sweet and easy. Some of the best memories, the most explosive and powerful, were in fact the ones driven by anger. But it was the anger that could only be born from love; and when the growling and panting were done, when all that was left were the bites on her shoulders and the deep scratches on his skin, the love was what remained beneath. Complicated, complex, built and tested as only a love that was carried over centuries between such powerful beings could be.

It was never like this. Never forced. Never -- cruel.

He stands, slowly divests himself of the leather trousers, and with hands that trembled ever so slightly slid into the bath behind her. The water was perfect, and the scent of the bathing salts ever stronger once he sunk into its embrace. Loki sat in front of him, the perfect curve of her back exposed, and without thinking he pulled the leather thong from his own hair, the thick, dark blonde mass of it falling over his shoulders. He took a long, slow breath before running his fingers through her dark hair and catching it up in a knot at the nape of her neck.

There was no use in pretending that the nearness of her did not affect him, though his emotions were still in tumult. His body knew that it wanted even as his mind rebelled against her compulsions, and the stirrings of arousal blooming inside him were both unsurprising and somehow wearying all at once. His hand moved to her shoulders as though he were in a dream, and with expert skill they began their work, her skin warm and perfect beneath his calloused hands.

[silver_deceit]

She can still remember every first between them-- first kiss, first caress that was something other than brotherly, first betrayal-- she has a long memory for both the good and the bad. That she's allowing those memories to distract her is something she chides herself for. Loki can not allow herself any fondness for him, can not allow what they once had to force her to detour from her chosen path.

Even in the heat of the water she's aware of his body, of how hot and how bright he burns behind her. He's always been the sun to her moon, the light to her shadow, and even now, under her control, he threatens to eclipse her. When he catches her hair and ties it back, her breath catches in her throat. She's not been touched in so very long that his fingers feel like a brand when they settle on her skin. Her body both relaxes and tenses anew as he works. It's not until he works out a particularly painful knot of muscle that she lets out a gasping moan.

Her hand moves back without thought to rest on his thigh and she grips, trying to keep her wits about her. He always made it so difficult. The impulsiveness that was so much a part of his nature had a way of infecting her, crawling inside her skin and making a home for itself there-- but always where he was concerned.

"Thor..."