Coercion - Part 3 [Loki/Romanoff] NC-17
A feral smile is the answer she gets. It’s the kind of smile that makes goose bumps rise on her bare skin and Natasha doesn’t need to be a psychic to know what’s on Loki’s mind.
“Alright you can try, but just so you know? No guy’s ever succeeded, doing that.” she warns, running her hands up strong arms to slender shoulders.
“A happy coincidence, because I never fail. Consider your challenge met.”
Natasha shrieks as she’s picked clean off the floor, but it’s a momentary thing for the next moment she’s being deposited on plush throws and squirms as Loki crawls up over her. A brief kiss, one that promises no harm will come to her, and she wonders if she’s truly lost her mind because she’s lying here letting Loki - the guy that killed more people in two days than she has in her whole career - have his way with her.
“Loki please…”
“Shush.” Loki smiles, hands on the assassin’s hips to hold her firmly to the bed. “While your pleading is highly arousing, I am in no rush this night”
Natasha would like to have had a witty response to that, only Loki’s using that silver tongue to taste the hollow of her throat and everything gets shot to shit when he drops his weight to settle between her legs. He’s heavier than he looks for being so slender, and Natasha’s legs snap up tight around him instinctively.
“Fucker. Stop teasing me.” she hisses, grabbing a handful of liquorice black hair and pushing him down as best she can. The rough touch must have appealed to him, for he busies himself with her right breast, growling with delight at how soft she is, how feverishly she burns with barely the slightest touch.
“Holy…shit…” she chokes, barely and Loki draws back a moment.
“Is my touch too firm?”
“No, no it’s good…just shut up and keep doing it!”
Loki looks rather pleased with himself, and - with a last fleeting nip - slithers down her taught abdomen to the tight thatch of dark curls betwixt her thighs. He’s pleased to find her delicate folds already wet for him, and gently runs his index finger through that slickness.
At first it’s little more than a brush of his lips against soft, shaven skin; a deliberate move that allows him the barest taste of her. Then a second when she quivers and clutches the bed throws; a third denied, too busy are his fingers as they spread her wide open.
Above him, his female cries out in heat, her hips gyrate toward him and God or not, he can’t resist her need. He drowns in her, a hand breaking free to skim her stomach and breasts while he feasts. He tries to start slow, to have her crest at a steady pace, but her free hand - stronger than he imagined - fists into his hair and holds him close, demanding he go deeper, faster…
“So demanding,” he purrs, licking at his lips and hers. “-and so sweet.” he adds, focusing in on the sensitive nub of flesh that twitches with every breath Natasha drags in. His tongue rolls around it, eyes locked on Natasha’s wide-eyed stare.
“H-harder…yeah right there. Oh my god, right the fuck there.” she’s moaning, chest heaving and hands twisting the fur throws into bunches. “Loki…shit…oh shit…ohhh you have gotta be fucking kidding me! Don’t stop!”
But Loki has, and he has to think fast to catch the foot that’s aiming for his face. Before Natasha can think of a scathing remark to fire at her tormentor Loki has pulled that leg over his shoulder and falls over the writhing assassin wearing a smirk that doesn’t lessen her annoyance any.
“Yes, Agent Romanoff?”
“Why did you st- Ohh, ohhh fuck.” Natasha suddenly breathes, curling up to stare down at the bulging leather that’s currently rubbing between her legs. ~Holy shit, it must run in the family…~
“I believe I told you I was in no rush tonight. Your climax will be far more pleasurable if you let me draw it out.” Loki purrs, very much enjoying the desperate look on Natasha’s face. He can feel her feminine heat through his pants, can feel the wetness saturating the fabric and his grip on her ankle tightens.
Suddenly rushing doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Natasha shakes her head. Fuck waiting around. Fuck taking it slow. She needs this and he’s able to give it to her. That’s all she cares about right now.
“Loki, just…god please.” she says finally, closing her eyes against the shame of being reduced to begging. Where’s her famous resolve now? Why isn’t she dominating him like she’s done so many others in the past?
She doesn’t have time to think long on that one, because Loki’s patience seems to have worn thin. He vanishes, and the startled wail that breaks through Natasha’s lips as she climaxes on that clever tongue reverberates around the bedchamber. The iron grip of his hands on her jerking hips hold her close, keep her right where he wants her even as she spills out onto the sheets. She can barely keep her eyes open to watch him, brain trying to register just how much he’s enjoying doing this to her, for her. With his eyes closed and brow pulled, the beginnings of sweat on his forehead, Loki rather suits his current position…and is he purring? It certainly feels like he is, but Natasha’s too lost in orgasmic bliss to notice.
Loki smirks as he pulls back, lips and chin shining and his own pale cheeks a little flushed. He’s going to have to get out of these wet pants soon or he’s in danger of ripping right through them and he really doesn’t want to explain that to the seamstresses.
“I would ask if that was to your liking, but-“
The hand in his hair tugs him up, and he’s pleased to find that she’s not averse to kissing him, even now while her juices still coat his lips and tongue.
“You’re a smug son of a bitch, but that was incredible. Oh you’ve definitely earned it…” Natasha says genuinely. ~Christ he made me come in under three minutes. Either he’s incredible or the guys back home REALLY need to up their game. ~
Loki looks lustily confused.
“Earned what?”
But a delicate hand presses to his chest and - after resisting for a moment - Loki allows himself to be pushed onto his back.
“Want to see you, all of you.” Natasha smiles, fingers brushing the gold plating on Loki’s thighs. “I’ve never had a God in my bed before.”
“I think you’ll find this is my bed, woman.” Loki murmurs, curling up to remove his undershirt.
Natasha marvels. Loki is nothing like what she’d go for in a male were she on Earth. He’s paler than anything she’s ever laid eyes on, angular and sharp, all lean where most Asgardians - at least the ones SHE’S encountered - have bulky muscle.
“Can I touch you?” she wonders aloud.
“Of course. I shan’t burn you.” Loki murmurs, watching as the female’s hand trickles over his abdomen and his eyebrows furrow when nails rake dangerously close to his waistband.
‘You like that?”
“Oh yes.”
~ His voice is beautiful when he’s aroused ~ Natasha thinks with a coy smile, flipping over and biting into the creamy skin just below Loki’s ribs. That earns her a throaty growl, and she wonders just how far she can push him. How long could she tease him? How long would it take before he broke and begged her for relief?
Her hand ghosts over the straining lump in his pants, and when Loki moans, Natasha grips him tighter, eager to see him in the flesh.
~ Definitely not a man but not quite a God. What are you Loki? ~ she muses.
“Alright you can try, but just so you know? No guy’s ever succeeded, doing that.” she warns, running her hands up strong arms to slender shoulders.
“A happy coincidence, because I never fail. Consider your challenge met.”
Natasha shrieks as she’s picked clean off the floor, but it’s a momentary thing for the next moment she’s being deposited on plush throws and squirms as Loki crawls up over her. A brief kiss, one that promises no harm will come to her, and she wonders if she’s truly lost her mind because she’s lying here letting Loki - the guy that killed more people in two days than she has in her whole career - have his way with her.
“Loki please…”
“Shush.” Loki smiles, hands on the assassin’s hips to hold her firmly to the bed. “While your pleading is highly arousing, I am in no rush this night”
Natasha would like to have had a witty response to that, only Loki’s using that silver tongue to taste the hollow of her throat and everything gets shot to shit when he drops his weight to settle between her legs. He’s heavier than he looks for being so slender, and Natasha’s legs snap up tight around him instinctively.
“Fucker. Stop teasing me.” she hisses, grabbing a handful of liquorice black hair and pushing him down as best she can. The rough touch must have appealed to him, for he busies himself with her right breast, growling with delight at how soft she is, how feverishly she burns with barely the slightest touch.
“Holy…shit…” she chokes, barely and Loki draws back a moment.
“Is my touch too firm?”
“No, no it’s good…just shut up and keep doing it!”
Loki looks rather pleased with himself, and - with a last fleeting nip - slithers down her taught abdomen to the tight thatch of dark curls betwixt her thighs. He’s pleased to find her delicate folds already wet for him, and gently runs his index finger through that slickness.
At first it’s little more than a brush of his lips against soft, shaven skin; a deliberate move that allows him the barest taste of her. Then a second when she quivers and clutches the bed throws; a third denied, too busy are his fingers as they spread her wide open.
Above him, his female cries out in heat, her hips gyrate toward him and God or not, he can’t resist her need. He drowns in her, a hand breaking free to skim her stomach and breasts while he feasts. He tries to start slow, to have her crest at a steady pace, but her free hand - stronger than he imagined - fists into his hair and holds him close, demanding he go deeper, faster…
“So demanding,” he purrs, licking at his lips and hers. “-and so sweet.” he adds, focusing in on the sensitive nub of flesh that twitches with every breath Natasha drags in. His tongue rolls around it, eyes locked on Natasha’s wide-eyed stare.
“H-harder…yeah right there. Oh my god, right the fuck there.” she’s moaning, chest heaving and hands twisting the fur throws into bunches. “Loki…shit…oh shit…ohhh you have gotta be fucking kidding me! Don’t stop!”
But Loki has, and he has to think fast to catch the foot that’s aiming for his face. Before Natasha can think of a scathing remark to fire at her tormentor Loki has pulled that leg over his shoulder and falls over the writhing assassin wearing a smirk that doesn’t lessen her annoyance any.
“Yes, Agent Romanoff?”
“Why did you st- Ohh, ohhh fuck.” Natasha suddenly breathes, curling up to stare down at the bulging leather that’s currently rubbing between her legs. ~Holy shit, it must run in the family…~
“I believe I told you I was in no rush tonight. Your climax will be far more pleasurable if you let me draw it out.” Loki purrs, very much enjoying the desperate look on Natasha’s face. He can feel her feminine heat through his pants, can feel the wetness saturating the fabric and his grip on her ankle tightens.
Suddenly rushing doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Natasha shakes her head. Fuck waiting around. Fuck taking it slow. She needs this and he’s able to give it to her. That’s all she cares about right now.
“Loki, just…god please.” she says finally, closing her eyes against the shame of being reduced to begging. Where’s her famous resolve now? Why isn’t she dominating him like she’s done so many others in the past?
She doesn’t have time to think long on that one, because Loki’s patience seems to have worn thin. He vanishes, and the startled wail that breaks through Natasha’s lips as she climaxes on that clever tongue reverberates around the bedchamber. The iron grip of his hands on her jerking hips hold her close, keep her right where he wants her even as she spills out onto the sheets. She can barely keep her eyes open to watch him, brain trying to register just how much he’s enjoying doing this to her, for her. With his eyes closed and brow pulled, the beginnings of sweat on his forehead, Loki rather suits his current position…and is he purring? It certainly feels like he is, but Natasha’s too lost in orgasmic bliss to notice.
Loki smirks as he pulls back, lips and chin shining and his own pale cheeks a little flushed. He’s going to have to get out of these wet pants soon or he’s in danger of ripping right through them and he really doesn’t want to explain that to the seamstresses.
“I would ask if that was to your liking, but-“
The hand in his hair tugs him up, and he’s pleased to find that she’s not averse to kissing him, even now while her juices still coat his lips and tongue.
“You’re a smug son of a bitch, but that was incredible. Oh you’ve definitely earned it…” Natasha says genuinely. ~Christ he made me come in under three minutes. Either he’s incredible or the guys back home REALLY need to up their game. ~
Loki looks lustily confused.
“Earned what?”
But a delicate hand presses to his chest and - after resisting for a moment - Loki allows himself to be pushed onto his back.
“Want to see you, all of you.” Natasha smiles, fingers brushing the gold plating on Loki’s thighs. “I’ve never had a God in my bed before.”
“I think you’ll find this is my bed, woman.” Loki murmurs, curling up to remove his undershirt.
Natasha marvels. Loki is nothing like what she’d go for in a male were she on Earth. He’s paler than anything she’s ever laid eyes on, angular and sharp, all lean where most Asgardians - at least the ones SHE’S encountered - have bulky muscle.
“Can I touch you?” she wonders aloud.
“Of course. I shan’t burn you.” Loki murmurs, watching as the female’s hand trickles over his abdomen and his eyebrows furrow when nails rake dangerously close to his waistband.
‘You like that?”
“Oh yes.”
~ His voice is beautiful when he’s aroused ~ Natasha thinks with a coy smile, flipping over and biting into the creamy skin just below Loki’s ribs. That earns her a throaty growl, and she wonders just how far she can push him. How long could she tease him? How long would it take before he broke and begged her for relief?
Her hand ghosts over the straining lump in his pants, and when Loki moans, Natasha grips him tighter, eager to see him in the flesh.
~ Definitely not a man but not quite a God. What are you Loki? ~ she muses.