𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐢𝐧
Here’s an enemies to lovers oneshot 😁 I hope you enjoy! - Love, Kiki 🖤
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Loki x female reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | All the pent up hatred you and Loki feel for each other leads to a fight to see who's the better warrior - which quickly turns heated in a whole new way. Because after all, love and hate are two sides of the same coin.
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | enemies to lovers, smut, bantering, a bit of angst
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), thigh riding, unprotected sex (please stay safe in real life and use a condom!), a bit of angst (with a happy ending)
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡
𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 🖤
“If you place your feet a single inch further apart, the next gust of wind will just sweep you off them,” a dark voice drawled behind you in the most infuriatingly mocking tone, and with a flourish, you whirled around, opened your hand, and your dagger whirred through the air and lodged itself in the doorframe mere inches from Loki’s face.
He didn’t even flinch, you had to give him that.
One dark eyebrow raised, he commented, “A terrible throw.”
“If I’d wanted for the blade to hit home, it would have,” you replied through gritted teeth. Loki’s smirk widened, and a predatory gleam flashed in his eyes as he pushed himself away from the doorway to the training rooms and began to stroll towards you with slow, measured steps.
You straightened your posture, unwavering as you shot him a withering glare, unfazed as he prowled closer. If he thought he could play cat and mouse with you, he’d been wrong.
Hatred seared in your gut like a writhing snake as you watched him slowly draw near.
Though even you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, with his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, looking so glossy and soft, and that mischievous dark smirk which kept playing on his lips. And the way the black leather of his Asgardian attire wrapped tightly around his toned body, leaving you to wonder how he looked beneath all these layers of fabric, if his body was as lean and strong as the fabric made it look like.
The flash of deviousness in his captivating eyes pinned you to your spot and made your heart beat a little faster. Loki looked as if he knew exactly which thoughts had been flashing through your mind, and it made your body heat with fury.
He’d been like this ever since your first encounter; bickering, infuriating, always trying to prod you with his well-placed quips until you snapped at him. Making you loathe him even more than you already had for what he’d done in New York, unworthy of the chance your teammates had given him.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than to criticize my fighting techniques?”, you asked, and your voice was dripping with sweetness and sarcasm.
“I wouldn’t go as far as calling it a technique,” Loki quipped, “But not really, no. And it’s truly entertaining how easy it is for me to throw you off balance. A single comment and you start throwing knives at me.”
“Did you mistake my attempt to murder you as a compliment?”
“It certainly makes me wonder what else you will do if I keep taunting you.” He had the audacity to wink. And still, he was prowling closer with measured, deliberate steps, like a predator stalking its prey. And still, you didn’t budge. You wouldn’t take a single step back.
“I can’t be the only one who’s ever thrown a knife at you,” you retorted.
There was only one last step left between the two of you. You raised your remaining knife, the point trained to his neck, silently daring him to come closer.
Loki’s sly smirk widened, and he spoke, “Rude, but true. Though your attempt at murdering me was either the most half-hearted one, or the clumsiest. Judging from the unbalanced fighting stance and the hilarious movement of your elbows, my guess would be the latter one. Are you trying to make your opponent laugh themselves to death with your little dance moves?”
With that, Loki raised his hand and in a flash of green, one of his own daggers materialized out of thin air, its blade softly meeting your own raised one with the tinkling sound of metal grazing against metal.
“You’re all talk and no action,” you said lightly. “Coming here, watching me train, criticizing me. But we’ve never fought to see who’s the better fighter, so you either know you’d lose…or you’re too scared to find out. Which one is it, Loki?”
His eyes flashed, growing imperceptibly darker like an ocean beneath a sky veiled by storm clouds, before he purred, “You won’t stand a chance against me, darling.”
“If you call me darling one more time, I’ll cut your throat.”
“Not with that fighting posture, you won’t. All you’ll achieve is breaking your wrist trying.”
That was the last straw. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as your blood began to boil with loathing and the overwhelming urge to slap that sneer from his face. You gritted your teeth. “Fine. Let’s fight and find out then. If I win, you’ll leave me alone.”
The mischievous grin turned even darker. Menacing. All it did was fuel your already blazing rage.
“Very well,” he drawled. “And if I’m the glorious victor? What do I get?”
You raised your brows. “The satisfaction of having another reason to fall on my nerves should be enough in the case of your victory. But don’t you worry about that. I’ll whip your ass.”
He snickered. “If that’s what you want, you could have just asked nicely.”
You could tell he was waiting for your own witty retort, but you saw your chance and acted on it. Lifting your hand in a flourish, you pushed Loki’s own blade aside and raised your knee to kick him in the gut – or, even better, his groin – but his reflexes were fast as lightning, honed by centuries of combat practice like the sharp blade of his daggers.
Green light flared – and Loki was gone. Before you could even frown in confusion, a foot locked around your ankle from behind, and your left leg was pulled from under you, effectively sending you tumbling to the ground with a small gasp of surprise.
With Loki’s low laugh ringing in your ears, you were quick to roll around to catch your fall and jump back to your feet, seething, “I must be a powerful opponent if you have to resume to trickery to win against me.”
You didn’t wait for an answer. In a fluid motion, you pulled your remaining spare knife from its hiding place at the hem of your pants and, both of your knives now clutched tightly in your fists, you lunged at him. Loki, though, was quick to block them with his own, flashing you a wicked grin through the crossed, glinting blades.
“I’m the God of Tricks,” he taunted, “If you didn’t anticipate them, it’s your mistake rather than mine.”
His sentence morphed into a huff as you loosened the weight with which you’d pushed against his blades, and when the sudden loss of counterweight made him stumble slightly forwards to regain his balance, you raised your knee. This time, you hit home, right in his groin, eliciting a satisfying little hiss of pain from the trickster, and twirled to add a kick into his chest for good measure. Loki, though, was quick to compose himself, and dodged out of your way with a whirl of his own.
“I’m starting to think they only call you the God of Mischief because the title God of Chattering was already taken”, you teased with a sly grin mirroring his own, but your clap-backs only seemed to spur him on further.
Sparring with Loki felt a little like dancing, you realized; quick-paced with light steps, the game of hunter and prey, graceful parries and swift attacks in a push and pull like the tides of an ocean.
A swing of his right dagger, which you caught, answering with a rapid thrust of your left hand, the blade already aimed at his stomach – only for Loki to catch your blow with the flat side of his right dagger’s blade and knock your own knife from your grip. It clattered to the floor, and the sound mingled with your hiss as you swung your hand with the remaining knife at his shoulder. Loki, though, had already anticipated the move, and dodged the blow, whirling around to come up behind you, one arm locked around your waist, the other holding his dagger against your throat. Cold metal grazed against your exposed skin.
For a split second, both of you remained like this, his firm chest pressed flush against your spine in this strange embrace, and you could feel Loki’s racing heartbeat thudding against your back, his heavy breathing against your own ribs.
“Ready to give up, darling?”, he crooned, and his breath ghosted over the bare skin at the crook of your neck. You involuntarily arched your back a little with the sensation of it, the pleasant shiver it sent through your nerves, making the skin tingle where his warm, laboured breaths caressed it – hoping he didn’t notice the goosebumps blooming on your exposed skin in response, betraying you.
Focus, a voice in your mind hissed, snapping you back to reality. You hate him. You despise him. Show him who’s the better fighter.
“Never,” you spat, tightening your fist on the hilt of your remaining dagger before you threw your head back against Loki’s nose, all the while raising your foot to slam it down on his. As the back of your head made contact with his nose – and the heel of your foot smashed into his own – he hissed with pain, and his grip around you loosened enough for you to whirl around and ready yourself for another kick.
Loki’s reflexes were way faster than your own, you had to admit that at least to yourself. Before you could even start the kicking motion, he lunged, barrelling into you and sending both of you slamming into the wall which was only a step behind you, and the force of the impact knocked the remaining dagger from your hand and sent it skittering over the floor and out of your reach. Damn it. You realized too late that during the fight, the two of you had moved to the edge of the training room. A stupid mistake, to let your surroundings slip out of focus.
“Letting your surroundings slip out of focus is a rather rookie mistake,” Loki commented sweetly, echoing your thoughts, and you narrowed your eyes in disdain as he placed one fist, still clutching his dagger, on the wall beside your head, raising the other so the second blade’s cold tip brushed against your collarbone. Cornering you against the damn wall.
Loki’s face was only inches from yours, and his scent was overpowering, wrapping its tendrils around you; sweat mixing with the faint smell of leather and something herbaceous, like a meadow in spring, to form the most intoxicating fragrance and cloud your senses. His face was close enough for you to feel his warm breath fan across your cheeks, and his eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, were locked on yours with an intensity that made the air between the two of you sizzle with an electricity which seemed to resonate with the sudden tension in your body.
“What?”, Loki teased, and his playful tone had grown huskier, “No witty clap-back, darling?”
“I despise you,” you hissed, swallowing against the tip of his dagger pressed to the hollow above your collarbone, all the while you kept trying hard to ignore the rush of elation which scooted through you at his sudden closeness, the hungry look in Loki’s riveting cerulean eyes. Trying, and failing miserably.
Loki’s lips curved into another smirk, and the devious spark danced in his eyes like the flame of a candle as he leaned closer still and purred, his tone low and husky, “You know what they say. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. As long as you hate me, you care about me. And you hate yourself for it more than you could ever hate me.”
“You’re the one coming down here to watch me train in the middle of the night, Loki. That doesn’t look like hatred to me.”
“I never said I hated you.”
A few heartbeats of stunned silence followed, in which you scanned his face, looking for any signs of a lie. But you were only met with sincerity…and something else. Something dark and hungry and, for the blink of an eye, a flicker of tenderness as he watched you, waiting for your reaction.
“Well, can’t say the same thing for myself,” you finally scoffed, but your voice sounded strained, the quip as half-hearted as it suddenly felt.
“You can’t fool the God of Lies, sweetheart,” he murmured, and the tip of his blade slid upwards, over the sensitive skin of the column of your throat before Loki placed it underneath your chin to tilt your head slightly upwards.
“You’re not a mind reader,” you hissed.
“And you’re not as subtle as you think yourself to be. The mask is slipping all on its own, darling,” Loki crooned. “I can see how ragged your breaths are,” he purred, leaning closer, so close that the tip of his nose was nearly brushing against yours, so close that you breathed in each other’s air, and your own breath hitched traitorously in your throat as your heart seemed to stumble in the confines of your ribcage. “Your pulse,” Loki continued with a rasp, his voice growing darker, lower, with every heartbeat as he slowly trailed the tip of the dagger’s blade from its place beneath your chin to follow the line of your jaw and to the point of your pulse pounding wildly below your ear, cool metal caressing your heated skin as you felt your heartrate spike with the delicious touch, “Your pulse is racing.”
Loki’s eyes on yours were mesmerizing, his pupils blown so wide that the beautiful cerulean colour of his irises was eclipsed to mere rings encasing these oceans of darkness. You could feel every single nerve in your body come alive, ablaze, beneath the intensity, the desire shining in these captivating eyes, and the trickster’s blade which, barely grazing your skin with its cold touch, wandered down the column of your throat. This time, you couldn’t suppress the shiver running through you at the sensation, and you tilted your head a little to the side with a sharp exhale, still holding Loki’s spellbinding gaze.
“And your stunning eyes are dilated, darling,” Loki continued. His own breaths were laboured as well, you noticed. The exertion of the fight? Or was it something else?
“Adrenaline”, you breathed, and the sensation of the cool caress of the tip of Loki’s dagger on your neck made your voice falter with another shiver skittering down your spine, the feeling of embers glowing in your core, flaring to life.
The wicked smirk grew wider, and the twinkle in these mesmerizing ocean eyes as they briefly travelled down to your lips, slightly parted with your faltering breaths, before they snapped up to hold your gaze once more, told you Loki wasn’t fooled. “And the throbbing for me between your legs?”, he asked sweetly, his voice rough and barely above a whisper, “Is that caused by adrenaline as well?”
His lips were hovering not an inch from yours, and you felt the gravity of his enthralling closeness, like strings drawing you towards him, tugging you closer and closer like the pull of a magnet.
“Is this turning you on, your knife against my throat?”, you murmured with as much disdain as you could muster against the haziness Loki’s closeness, the feeling of his lips nearly brushing over yours, his scent, his searing gaze, were instilling in your senses, luring you deeper into the haze of this spell he’d put on you, clouding your every rational thought with longing.
“Well, it’s a lovely sight for sure to have you all panting and sweaty beneath my blade, darling,” he rasped, and before you could contemplate what you were doing or stop yourself, you closed the remaining whisker’s breadth between the two of you and crashed your lips on Loki’s.
A part of you had anticipated for him to push you away, but he didn’t – it didn’t take him even a split second to return the kiss. His hand which had been resting against the wall beside your head shot up to cup your face, the dagger he’d held tinkling as the metal hit the floor, as Loki began to move his lips against yours with a greed that knocked the breath from your lungs and made your legs quiver with the force of it. The sound which tore from his throat when your tongue brushed over his lower lip and you opened your mouth for him, made your core throb with desire, a need which sizzled through your body like liquid flames.
It was bruising and fierce, and the sensation of Loki’s hand sliding into your hair at the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your strands to slightly angle your head back while he let his tongue delve into your mouth, teeth clashing, and the cold edge of his remaining dagger’s sharp blade still pressed against your throat made you utter a low moan. Loki’s body was pressed flush against yours, his weight pinning you against the wall, and when he bucked his hips into yours, a growl escaped his lips at the feeling of his hardened length rubbing against your thigh through the layers of fabric.
Your lips curled as you smiled viciously into the kiss while your hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching him firmly while your knee shot up to slam into his crotch, but despite the distraction of the feverish kissed you were sharing, the lust addling his mind, Loki had anticipated your scheme and dodged, just as your elbow slammed into his side and you scurried away from him, darting to the discarded dagger closest to you in the centre of the room, its blade catching the glow of the lights overhead.
“What was that about using trickery?”, Loki hissed from behind you.
“Two can play this game,” you quipped sweetly and reached for the knife’s hilt, fingertips already brushing against the smooth surface, when a force dragged you backwards before your fingers could close around weapon, and your frustrated growl echoed through the air. You had the mind to whirl around as you were pulled backwards with the force of Loki’s magic, raising your left leg from the floor and wrapping it around his waist while he pulled you back towards him, the force of it making the two of you tumble to the floor, and this time, it was you who came up on top.
It was a stalemate – you had him pinned to the floor, straddling his waist while your hands pushed down on his chest to keep him in place, while his dagger’s blade had found its way back to your throat.
“I’m impressed how low you’ll stoop to win,” Loki purred, infuriatingly unfazed.
“So you agree kissing you means stooping low?” you seethed with a grin, pressing harder against his chest, but your words morphed into a low groan as Loki bucked his hips, and the sensation of his crotch rubbing against the sweet spot at the apex of your thighs made you feel as if he’d set you on fire.
“And still you enjoyed it enough to get all worked up beneath my touch”, he crooned.
“Will you ever shut up, just for once?”, you spat in reply as you fought the desire for him which kept clouding your senses and shifted, straddling his left thigh to keep him from moving his hips against yours.
A mistake, you soon enough realized at the devilish grin which lit up his handsome features.
“Make me,” Loki challenged with a sultry snicker, and shifted his thigh slightly beneath you, enough to cause some friction against your throbbing core, and it took all of your strength to bite back the moan which threatened to spill from your lips and betray your need. For him.
“Does that feel good, darling?”, Loki drawled with another shift, the movement of his thigh grazing your clit sending another wave of pleasure through you, much stronger than the first one, and the embers in your lower belly flared in response.
He was tricking you, using your arousal against you, to distract you and regain the upper hand, but the sensation of his thigh rubbing against your groin, paired with his dark voice which, hoarse with the strain of his own arousal, seeped through the air like honey, was too addictive to make you stop. It only made you want him more. Another shift, and you rutted your hips against his thigh with more vigour, relishing the sensation bolting through your aching core as you felt your walls clench around nothing. This time, you didn’t even try to bite back the loud moan which filled the air, knowing what these sounds tumbling from your lips would do to him in return, judging by the remarkable tent in his leather pants.
You rolled your hips against his thigh once more, feeling your arousal soak your panties, savouring the cold bite of Loki’s dagger which was still poised against your throat, firm enough to elicit a pleasant sting of cold and the sharpness of the blade, and slight enough not to actually hurt you, you noticed, as Loki watched you intently, his gaze never straying from yours.
With a smirk, your hand shot out to stroke his hardened length through the leather of his pants, palming him, watching how his lips parted with the most sinful moan beneath your exploring touch. In a swift motion, you swung your leg back over his waist to straddle him once again, and began to rut your hips against his in slow, languid movements, making the both of your groan in synch as your heated core pressed against his erection and your hands roamed over the soft leather covering his sides. There. You gave him another devious grin as your fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger he’d kept hidden beneath the fabric at his waist, pressing the blade against his own exposed throat.
“How many more hidden daggers will I find underneath all this leather?” you hummed, groaning as he rolled his hips against yours, and your fist tightened around the dagger’s hilt with the pleasure ablaze in your core, sending shockwaves through your whole body. The ache for him, to feel him inside your soaked walls, was starting to get unbearable.
“That depends entirely on how thoroughly you search for them,” he panted with a seductive, breathless smirk that did nothing to quench your arousal.
“Good,” you quipped, and slid the dagger beneath the hem of his attire before ripping it upwards to slice through the leather which covered his chest. It gave away under the sharp blade as if you were cutting through butter, ignoring Loki’s gasp of surprise at the sound of the ripping fabric.
“That was finest Asgardian leather.”
“As if I cared,” you hissed as you pressed your own blade to his jugular, where it glinted against his pale skin, savouring the expression in his darkened eyes as you used your free hand to push the remaining scraps of fabric away from his chest, not without taking a split second to admire the defined lines of muscles rising beneath his pale skin, the way his abs flexed with every laboured breath he took.
Your free hand roamed over his exposed chest, dipping to his waist as you felt for more hidden knives, and you could feel how much effort it cost him to suppress another groan when your fingers kept dancing over his bare skin, soft under your touch.
“Maybe I lied,” Loki crooned as you let your hands travel to his other side and beneath the torn leather, still searching for another hidden knife, “Maybe that’s what I wanted you to do all along, darling. Do you enjoy touching me while I’m helpless and panting underneath you? Do you enjoy this surge of power rushing through you at the sight?”
He thrust his hips up, his crotch meeting your soaked core, and it took all your strength not to double over with the pleasure scooting through you, ripping through your nerves like your blade had through the leather of his attire only seconds prior.
The truth was…you did enjoy it. Not only enjoy – you relished in it, in the way you could feel his arousal for you, evident in the hardened bulge in his pants and the lust-blown gaze he kept so firmly trained on you, following your every movement, the way his beautiful black hair was sprawled around his head like a crown forged of the blackest metal.
It was a dangerous game you were playing. Everything Loki was, everything he stood for, the spell he’d cast over you with fleeting glances and the witty bantering, the enticing words his silver tongue spun for you, leaving you wondering what else he could do with it, the timbre of his smooth, dark voice seeping into your mind to keep you awake at night like the luring song of a siren…He’d invaded your mind, and the hatred you’d so carefully built for him was the last guard to keep him from conquering your heart as well. You couldn’t let it get that far. And you couldn’t forget the intoxicating feeling of his lips against yours which had left you yearning for more.
Lasciviously slowly, you let the tip of your stolen blade trace the curve of Loki’s collarbone before you trailed it downwards over his firm chest, watching the muscles ripple and flex as he arched into the caress of your sharp blade, watching how the trickster’s lips parted with a silent moan.
“Now who’s getting off the knife pressed against their opponent’s skin?”, Loki breathed, and you could tell he was restraining a groan. A shame. You would need to work harder to hear it.
“Both of us,” you murmured, “Judging from the hitch in your breath, and the tent in your pants.”
He chuckled darkly, and it was a sound so lovely and sinful that it made your heartrate spike once again.
Loki’s free hand wandered up your thigh, over the fabric of your pants, and the pad of his thumb grazed over your clothed core, the arousal soaking the fabric of your panties.
“Fuck,” you whispered, and your hips snapped forwards to meet his touch, desperate for more friction.
“I’m inclined to comply if you ask nicely. Tell me, darling, are you wet for me already?”, he purred with another searing stroke of his thumb, shattering the last of your resolve.
“Only one way to find out,” you moaned, and your words were all the reassurance he needed to do exactly that. His dagger left your throat as he slid the cool blade into the hem of your pants and cut them open just as you had only moments prior.
“These were my favourites,” you hissed.
“I couldn’t care less,” he panted his reply, and before you could muster a clapback, his hands slid to your soaked folds, thumb flicking languidly against the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs while he sat up beneath you, and your back arched in time with the wanton moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by another searing kiss as Loki locked his lips on yours.
You’d never felt anything like this before. And it was so utterly wrong. It was tearing down all these walls you’d so carefully built to guard your heart, setting free these things you’d buried deep inside your soul, things you swore yourself to snuff out like the flame of a candle. They’d grown into a wildfire, hungry flames licking at your heart and your nerves as your world zoned in on Loki, his touches as his skilled fingers which kept playing with your clit while you rolled your hips to meet his them with a low whimper.
The clatter of metal on the floor momentarily drew you from this world of searing bliss as Loki discarded his remaining dagger and his free hand grabbed the back of your head, to pull you into another bruising, greedy kiss as he kept pleasuring you with his hands, each slow, languorous stroke over your clit making shooting stars bolt through your veins, tightening the coil in your belly.
“Do you like what I’m doing to you, love?”, he murmured against your lips, his strokes teasing, a sweet, slow torture, “Do you like the way my fingers make you feel?”
“Yes,” you breathed.
“Then let me hear it.”
Loki’s teeth grazed your bottom lip as your lips parted for a wanton moan, loud enough to wake the whole compound, and he softly bit down, drawing blood, the metallic tang mixing with the taste of him. You cried out with pleasure as you could feel the wave of your climax crashing into you – and the cry fused into a whine of frustration as Loki pulled his hands away with a wicked chuckle.
“Beg for it,” he rasped into the kiss, and you pulled away to glare at him, his flushed cheeks and lust-blown eyes, the spark of desire and mischief flashing in their black depths, “Beg for me to bring you this sweet relief.”
“I will do no such thing,” you panted. “My own hands are perfectly capable to finish the job.”
With a sly smirk of your own, you let your hand fall from its place on Loki’s chest to let it rove down to your dripping folds, but his free hand, the one which wasn’t buried in your hair, caught yours, and his lips crashed onto yours, making you gasp. A flash of green light, and your pants were gone, along with your underwear, as were his. You groaned into the kiss as your dripping folds brushed over his hardened length
Against your lips, Loki murmured, “What if I didn’t hate you? What if it were quite the opposite?”
There was a softness laced in the low rasp of his voice that made your traitorous little heart skip a beat, paired with a strange feeling of free fall, as if you’d reached the top of a roller coaster, waiting for that split second for the cart to drop, that short moment of holding your breath. And it had nothing to do with the things the two of you were doing, and everything with the possibility disguised in his words.
Dressed as a beautiful lie, because that’s what he does. That’s what he is, the little voice in your head warned.
“Love?”, you huffed, pulling slightly away from his lips, “Love and lust are not the same. You want me. You want to fuck me. But you don’t love me.”
For a strange moment, you thought you’d seen the sharp edge of hurt in his eyes, but it was gone before you could start to contemplate it in your hazy mind.
“Then let me fuck you,” he growled.
He didn’t need to tell you twice. You raised your hips and sunk onto him, taking your sweet time to bury him in your throbbing core, listening to the lovely sounds that tumbled from his lips which kept moving against yours, feverish and hungry as if the same flames he’d stoked in your own body were devouring him as well. You moans tangled in the sweat-drenched air with his as you began to gyrate your hips, achingly slowly, to see if you could make him beg you to go faster.
And to savour the feeling of Loki as close to you as humanly possible – but you were quick to lock the thought away. Another roll of your hips to bury him deeper in your velvet walls, and his tip grazed the sweet spot deep inside of you, making you whimper with the bliss sizzling through your nerves, setting them ablaze one by one like sparklers on New Year’s Eve.
Another rut of your hips made him groan, and with a surprised gasp tearing from you, Loki’s hand slid from your waist to your butt and with a swift motion, he switched your positions, so it was you with your back on the ground and him hovering above you, settled between your thighs. His hand was still in your hair, cradling the back of your head so you didn’t hit the ground. Before you could utter a word, he slid back into you, and your back arched with the sensation.
Your legs locked around his waist to pull him closer, and for a few heartbeats, his lust-darkened gaze held yours, and a flash of something flitted over his handsome, flushed features as he bottomed out of you, only to bury himself back in your velvet walls with another thrust, drawing a string of moans from your lips as he hit the soft spot inside you again and your eyes fluttered shut with the overwhelming bliss flooding you. His lips found yours again, only to trace the line from the corner of your mouth to the racing pulse below your ear, and you cried out with pleasure as he softly bit into the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking at the sore skin. Marking you.
“Does this make you feel good?”, he rasped against your skin, and his hot breath felt like another caress as it fanned over your exposed skin and the sheen of sweat glistening there. Your hands shot up to rake through his raven hair, and the glossy curls gliding through your fingers felt as soft to the touch as you’d imagined they would be.
“Yes,” you whispered on a broken moan, and his tongue darted out to graze the spot his teeth had marked, making you writhe once more with the sensation of it, and the pace of his thrusts quickened.
“This is better than sparring,” you groaned, and he chuckled darkly against your neck before he retorted, his voice raw with lust, “You’re also better at this than you are at sparring.”
“Ass,” you hissed, and he snickered in reply.
“As you wish,” he purred, lips brushing the shell of your ear to elicit goosebumps along the column of your throat and you gasped as his hand left your waist to grab your butt and pull you closer, sliding deeper and hitting that soft spot once more, hard enough to send you toppling over the edge. With the force of a thunderstorm, your first climax crashed into you, making your muscles convulse and your walls clench around him as he kept thrusting into you, and your outcry of bliss reverberated from the bare walls of the training room as pleasure bolted through your body like a strike of lighting travelling through your every nerve to the very tips of your fingers clawing at his silky hair. Riding out your climax, you could feel Loki’s pace faltering, his breathing frantic against the crook of your neck as he chased his own high at the sensation of your throbbing walls, the arousal coating him, and you could feel him twitch inside you as he came – pulling you with him into a second orgasm, as forceful as the first one.
As he came down from his high alongside you, lazily riding it out, Loki nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent before he placed the softest of kisses to your skin. It was such an intimate gesture, a gesture which carried a gentleness reserved for real lovers, and the feeling it kindled in your chest was overwhelming. A warmth, as radiant as the morning sun. Not in your core – but in your heart.
You stayed like this for a few moments, and both your panting filled the silence as you took a moment to catch your breaths, until Loki pulled slightly away to look at you. All mischief was gone from Loki’s eyes, replaced instead by a sincerity and sadness you’d never seen him display before as he held your gaze and asked quietly, voice still hoarse with his arousal, “Why do you hate me so much?”
Your heart plummeted to the floor upon hearing the sorrow in his tone.
You could have lied – for what was a lie to the God of Lies? But you couldn’t. So instead, you just gave him silence, watching him watch you, beautiful ocean eyes scanning your face for the answer you wouldn’t grant him.
“Never mind”, Loki finally said, and it sounded hollow, before he fully pulled away from you, leaving you as empty as you’d never felt before, a feeling of wrongness blooming in your belly – not at the things you’d just done with him, but the things you couldn’t help but feel you’d done to him with your reaction. In a flash of green, your pants were back on, as were his, no traces of the gashes of his blade, and he turned to leave when your voice rang out through the air, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife’s blade.
“Because if I didn’t hate you…I would love you.”
Loki froze in his tracks, his back to you, and for a few passing, anxiously racing heartbeats, you thought he’d just leave, that the vulnerability you’d just shown in telling the truth, letting your heart speak instead of the rational part of your mind which currently kept screaming at you, at your stupidness – he turned to face you.
The softness was back in his ocean eyes as they held yours, watching silently as you slowly climbed back to your feet. The same softness you’d seen spark earlier, before it had been quenched by your own sharp words. You want me. You want to fuck me. But you don’t love me. Spoken as if you didn’t care about his intentions whereas the harsh words had been dressed in bitterness and hurt at the assumption they could be the truth.
“And why would it be so bad to love me?”, Loki asked quietly. The mischievous, playful mask of the trickster had slipped, clattered to the ground at his feet like the discarded daggers of your fight. Right now, he wasn’t the God of Lies and Tricks. He was just Loki. You felt as if you saw him for the first time.
You swallowed against the lump which was forming in your throat. “Because I’m scared that you’ll hurt me.”
A few beats of silence as you watched each other, the distance between the two of you stretching until it felt as if he were an ocean apart instead of a few feet.
“Have you never wondered why I kept annoying you on purpose?”
“So you did it on purpose,” you replied, voice weak, but the smile which tugged at the corners of his mouth was brimming with sadness.
“If you couldn’t love me, I at least wanted to make you hate me. Hate is better than not mattering at all. You won, by the way,” he added while he averted his gaze, “I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
The emptiness in your chest seemed to grow, a void fed by his words. You could tell they were the truth. And you finally acknowledged what you’d known all along: you didn’t want him to stay away. Not even for a second.
“What if I didn’t hate you, Loki?”, you timidly echoed his words from before, the confession you’d swiped away with your harsh reply, “What if it were quite the opposite?”
You’d begun to close the distance between the two of you while you spoke, and with every step you drew closer to him, you could see the sadness in Loki’s smile fuse into hope. He looked lost all of a sudden, unsure what to do or how to respond. He looked beautiful. His hair was still dishevelled from your hands combing through the strands in the heat of the moment, his cheeks a little flushed underneath the harsh artificial headlights. His eyes were wide, the darkness of arousal gone from them, and his gaze was gentle as he replied, “If you didn’t hate me, but the opposite, I would ask you to give me a chance. To let me prove that you can trust me.”
You’d come to stand in front of him, allowing the hatred you’d used to cover up the affection for him to peel off like dried paint, flake by flake, until the love you were starting to feel for him shone through with the brightest colours. It was way more beautiful like this, you realized.
Carefully, you reached out to take Loki’s hands. A gentle touch, contrasting the bruising kisses and rough touches you’d shared only moments ago.
“I know I’m not the most trustworthy person,” he whispered, “But please believe me that I would never hurt you, because…” He took a steadying breath, as if gathering all his courage before he continued with a soft whisper, “I’m in love with you.”
I love you, too, you wanted to say, but the onslaught of emotions at his confession made it impossible for you to form the words, leaving them stuck in your throat. It didn’t matter. There were so many opportunities to tell him in the future.
Instead of speaking a reply, you stood on your tip-toes to place a delicate kiss, sweet and gentle and as light as a feather, on his lips, before you pulled away and breathed, “Take care of my heart. It’s a fragile thing.”
“It’s safe with me,” he said softly, and the tenderness in his expression made your heart flutter. You knew Loki was telling the truth. And just like that, the coin had been flipped.
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