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infinitystoner · 4 months

Text

First Light

AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Vetrnætr (Winter Nights) is a time to welcome winter and honor the gods of old. But, on the first morning of festivities, the only thing Loki wants to celebrate is you.

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Tags/Content: Fluff, Praise, Smut (Fingering, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms), Established Relationship, Pre-Thor (2011), Asgard AU

Rating: Explicit; 18+

Author’s note: A belated birthday gift to my amazing friend @loki-cees-all. You are the Goddess of Patience and Mercy and I appreciate you so very much! I hope this one lives up the hype. xx

It was easy to dismiss quiet mornings on Asgard in favor of boundless nights under the stars. But you never felt more content than when the first rays of daylight bathed the kingdom in a hazy glow. Beyond frost-kissed windows, the wind whispered a tale of winter’s early arrival, and you burrowed further under the protective arm curled around your shoulders.

Waking before Loki was a rare occurrence, and you offered up a prayer of gratitude to the Norns when you realized your lover was still slumbering beside you.

He was a being of little sleep, often arguing those bestowed with divinity had more stamina than the average Æsir, therefore requiring less rest. You disagreed.

Well, somewhat disagreed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you observed evidence of the prior evening’s chaotic activities: clothing and armor were strewn about the room, pillows and pelts haphazardly adorned the hearthside, and papers from Loki’s desk littered the floor, his bookshelves standing slightly askew. Even the bedposts seemed to be off-kilter.

Loki absolutely had the stamina of a god.

Still, he hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately. The past few weeks preparing for Vetrnætr had taken a toll on him. Loki had been responsible for coordinating the arrival of visiting dignitaries and nobility while also leading what he’d described to you as “lighthearted diplomatic discussions” with the royal council of Vanaheim. Queen Frigga, however, had confided that he was single-handedly responsible for not only fortifying Asgard’s long-held alliance between the Vanir and Æsir but also negotiating a new trade agreement between the neighboring realms.

You carefully tilted your face upward, committing the splendor of him in this moment to memory. Swathes of amber light illuminated the rise and fall of his chest, mapping the gentle exhales through parted lips that assured you he was alive. That he was real. That he was yours.

Your family and fellow courtiers had thought you mad when you turned down the advances of several of the Allfather’s golden warriors. But it was when you refused Thor that you’d stirred up any true semblance of trouble. Then again, the elder Odinson had attempted to court at least half the eligible maidens of Asgard, so it wasn’t that scandalous.

What everyone didn’t know then was that your heart secretly belonged to another. And even now, years later, it was hard to comprehend that he returned your affections. But he did, and he made sure you’d never have reason to doubt him.

For so long, he had existed in the shadows of those around him. Only a sacred few saw his light shining through. And once he’d revealed the whole of himself to you, how could anyone else possibly compare?

True, he could be unpredictable and disruptive, but Loki approached everything in life with an unwavering sense of humble dedication. His fidelity was one of the things you loved most about him.

“My beautiful miracle.”

You’d only meant to think it—but hearing the whisper of affection fall from your lips seemed the perfect way to commence the day. Tracing patterns across the exposed skin of Loki’s abdomen, you studied the contours of his handsome face. Long lashes fluttered against high cheekbones as his eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids.

“What is it you dream of?” you whispered, gently placing a kiss on his sternum.

“A prince dreams of many things.”

His reply caused your heart to stutter within your chest. The trickster had been awake all along, basking in the warmth of your sentimentality like a cat soaking up the sun.

“I should’ve known you were only pretending to be asleep,” you pouted as he finally cracked open his eyes to peer down at you.

“Mmm, you should have,” he said as he wrapped his hand around yours, bringing it to his lips and tenderly pressing his lips to your fingertips. “But, I did have the most interesting dream. It’s worth hearing, I assure you.”

Loki was nothing if not convincing, and you were curious.

“Go on then. I’m listening,” you replied with a playful roll of your eyes.

Loki cleared his throat as he fluffed the pillow under his head. Stars above. He was as dramatic as he was mischievous.

“It was the final night of Vetrnætr and the kingdom was blanketed in snow. I was tasked with riding into the forests alone,” he said, absentmindedly trailing his fingertips down your arm as he spoke, “to defeat a great beast with my magick.”

His voice was impossibly alluring, much like Loki himself. Soon, you were clinging to every word—mesmerized by the magnificent man beside you.

“I found myself in the depths of wilderness—where no other soul had dared to tread before. I, of course, was quite brave in the face of this unknown danger.”

“Fearless, some might say,” you offered.

He hummed in agreement, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Finally, I reached my destination. But a horde of Bilgesnipes was blocking the creature I’d come to slay.”

“Oh?” you said apprehensively. He solemnly nodded.

“So, I conjured a simple spell to vanquish them. Imagine my surprise when I realized they were not, in fact, angry Bilgesnipes but your dreadful snores plundering into my subconscious mind.”

Your brain stuttered—did he just? Bilgesnipes?! Loki smirked at the utterly bewildered expression on your face before mimicking the way you opened your mouth in shock. You’d walked right into his little trap and he was enjoying it far too much.

“Loki Odinson! I do not snore.”

You sounded less defiant than you hoped, and—in a bid to get him to renege the obvious lie—you wriggled out from under his arm and tossed a pillow at his stupid, handsome face.

“I beg to differ.” Deep, mirthful laughter rumbled in Loki’s chest. “Now, wait a minute—”

Much to his dismay, you’d moved to the edge of the bed. As you gathered one of the fur blankets around your nude form, Loki propped himself up on his elbows, those stark green eyes focusing on you with an intensity that didn’t seem justified this early in the day.

“Darling, don’t go. I was only teasing.” He grabbed your wrist, and the coolness of his fingers against your flesh sent a thrill rippling through you. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

The offer was tempting but, with Vetrnætr on the literal horizon, you had a never-ending list of obligations to attend to.

“You know we’re both expected at the first morning feast.”

“Yes, and that is still hours from now. Come back to bed.”

“It will take me hours to get ready for the celebrations.”

Loki clicked his tongue as you shimmied off the bed. “What a shame you don’t have a skillful sorcerer at your disposal.”

“Such misfortune,” you quipped, fingers reaching to secure the fur around your shoulders. A curse left your lips as nothing but cold air enveloped you instead. Loki shot you a wink as a wisp of seiðr danced across his palm.

“You’re not playing fair.”

“Where there are wolf’s ears, wolf’s teeth are near.” Dimples adorned the corners of his mouth as he grinned up at you.

“And now you’re not making any sense!”

“So come back to bed, little fox. Please. Help me make sense of things.”

Three thoughts inhabited your mind in this moment: a persistent chill was quickly settling in your bones and Loki’s bed was impossibly warm; applying the ceremonial makeup you were expected to wear today would take at least an hour—and having Loki glamour it on would be terribly convenient; and, finally, you were absolute shit at denying him anything. And Loki knew it.

He stretched his long legs as he awaited your submission. The action caused the silk sheets to settle low around his waist. Shadows traversed the deep V of his Adonis belt like divine brushstrokes while sunbeams highlighted the devastating muscles of his godly physique.

You never stood a chance.

Your pulse quickened as you propped a knee on the mattress, giving him a coy smile. “Satisfied, your highness?”

Loki inhaled as he surveyed your figure. It was easy to assume he was memorizing the smooth curves and soft dips of your body. Every imperfection, dimple, scar—he’d studied and worshiped each precious part of you. But in truth, he knew the map of your body better than he knew the wilds of Asgard—how to expertly navigate your release, to intimately claim you as his time and time again.

“Not quite.” His eyes glinted with desire as he curled his hands around your waist, guiding you to settle against the pillows. You watched in awe as he pulled the sheets over the both of you, adjusting the layers of covers and pelts as he caged you in his arms.

“Perfect.” It was no more than a whisper. But the sense of pride that thrummed through you must have been palpable, because Loki leaned down and brushed his mouth against yours. You barely had time to inhale before his tongue was swiping over your bottom lip and then moving against your own in eager, equal measure. He was heavy on top of you as he settled between your open legs—your collective arousal evident as your bodies seamlessly slotted together. It was exhilarating and grounding and you ached for him. When you dug your fingertips into the firm swell of his ass in a silent plea for more, he broke the kiss.

“What is it, my love?” you asked, noticing a glimmer of tears swelling in his eyes as he pulled away from you. You cupped his cheek, and his gaze flitted across your face.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Loki took in a deep, shuddering breath before kissing you once more. Sparks of white-hot heat ignited your skin as your heart hammered in your chest. Could he sense how wildly it was beating for him? “I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”

How could words ever truly express that the love you possessed defied explanation, transcended comprehension, and overwhelmed every fiber of your being? How could you adequately convey that his praise was your Valhalla?

You finally managed to say, “I know,” but your response melded into a moan as Loki’s lips made contact with your nipple, rolling its twin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re so good to me.”

“So good,” you echoed, arching into his touch as Loki’s hand skimmed your curves before dipping between your legs.

He found you slick and ready for him, and he easily slid two fingers into your cunt, his palm pushing upwards against your swollen clit. Delicious pressure built in your hips with each skillful turn of his wrist and you greedily bucked into his hand, grasping at his biceps for leverage.

You were quickly losing yourself to the adrenaline searing through you, igniting every nerve ending like a thousand meteors shooting across the night sky. Still, you knew Loki revelled in the euphoria of your unraveling just as much as you did. He yearned to hear your small whimpers of pleasure, to feel your hands on his body and your fingers twisting in his hair as you came undone at his touch. To be connected without reservation.

He’d once confided in you that the reassurance of your touch sparked something within him comparable only to his seiðr—you had become just as much a part of him as the ancestral magick that flowed through his very veins. Imagining a reality without either was like envisioning a world without sunlight or stars.

“Loki. Loki.” His name was witchcraft on your lips and his fingers deftly twisted inside you in response. When he slowed his movements, you clenched around him, desperately running your hands over the broad expanse of his shoulders. His skin was damp with sweat, his muscles quivering under your fingertips.

“And so eager. Gods, you’re gorgeous when you’re about to come apart.”

When Loki was nestled between your thighs, worshiping your body as if you were the only thing in all the Nine, time stood still. You were teetering on the edge of sweet release—right where he wanted you. A frustrated noise caught in the back of your throat as he removed his fingers, your thighs trembling as your climax began to ebb.

“Patience.” He spoke purposefully against your heated skin, as if reciting an invocation.

“Til árs ok friðar.” Loki paused, looking up at you with eyes so full of adoration you felt as though your heart would burst. He repeated the ancient phrase. “For a good year. And peace. That is my wish for you—for us—my love.”

You were completely lost under his spell. Your only tether to reality was Loki. His forearm heavy across your midriff. His tongue flat against your clit.

“F-faen, I’m– please,” you slurred, your chest heaving with ragged, uneven pants.

“That’s it,” Loki coaxed. “Come undone for me.”

At his words, the overwhelming tightness in your core snapped. Your orgasm ripped through your body—your mind clearing itself of every lingering thought. The wild beat of your heart became the soundtrack of your bliss and you sobbed as the tip of his regal nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. His tongue continued to lap at the warm center of your cunt as aftershocks rolled through you, your body involuntary jerking at the overstimulation.

“Too much…”

“One more, darling. If not for me, for Asgard.” A wicked grin spread across his face—his lips and chin glistening with your arousal—before he dipped his head back between your thighs. “Consider it a royal decree.”

It was pointless to argue with him, especially when he set his mind to something. You wound your fingers into his unkempt hair, and before long, you were curling up off the bed as you juddered under his touch for the second time.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you came down from your high. Loki pressed his forehead to yours.

“A final gesture of goodwill,” he murmured, the blunt tip of his cock nudging your entrance.

“We’ll be late to breakfast. I- I dare not disgrace your good name, my prince,” you said, gasping into his mouth as he pushed deeper inside you. You didn’t care if you missed every single celebratory banquet this week.

“I’m honored you think so highly of me, little wife.” You groaned in unison as he bottomed out with a swirl of his hips. “But it would not be the first time we’ve vexed the House of Odin thus. Nor the last, I hope.”

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