So this was Midgard.
Loki had not thought to venture here, not until his brother had been banished to the place. Of all the worlds that they might have travelled to, this was perhaps the least thrilling to Loki of Asgard. He saw little to excite the mind or body of such beings as himself. Mere mortals that lived a hundred years at most, if research were to be believed. They went about their largely boring lives without style or grandeur, without affecting any real change on their own world, never mind that of other realms. It was a great disappointment to Loki at first glance, and yet Thor was intoxicated by it's wonders. His brother could not understand at all.
Walking in a land they called the United States of America, this region was known as New Mexico. Loki wondered what may have become of the previous Mexico. If this were the second incarnation of such a place, he could see no vast improvements. Much was wasted space, acres and acres of blowing sands in a heat that must be unbearable to the people who crawled like ants on the surface. It was a sad little place as far as Loki could tell.
Thor had become tied to the people here, to a woman in particular. They took a similar form to female Asgardians, though they lacked the power and much of the beauty as far as Loki was able to tell. He wandered through nearby towns, all at no great distance from the site where he had discovered his brother, locked up and helpless. Thor would not be so for long, and Loki planned to discover what wonders Midgard might hold before he was discovered too far from home.
There was a place in the desert, a tavern of a kind. This strange little building that proclaimed itself ‘Max’s Bar and Grill’. Loki knew not what to make of such a place. He was greatly intrigued and ventured inside to learn more of what the Midgardians chose to do in their time of leisure.
Alcohol was served here, such as it was. In Asgard, wine and mead flowed freely, but its strength was nothing for those raised on its taste. It took much for inhibitions to be lost, for tongues to be loosened and the flesh to grow weak. On this little world that they called Earth, the matter was entirely different.
Men dressed in the strangest leather garb held court at one end of the room. More averagely dressed, scruffy looking people took up some of the tables and chairs. Loki was underwhelmed by the sight of them, by the oddly decorated room, by the din that emanated from the speakers behind the bar. To his ears, it was no more than screeches and wails. To the people here, it seemed to be an anthem, a stirring war cry and proclamation of devotion to someone or something they called Alabama. Loki shook his head and approached the bar.
“What’ll it be?” asked the woman there.
“What would you recommend?” he asked with a disarming smile.
“Makes no odds to me, sugar,” she told him, seemingly too lazy or stupid for any kind of conversation. “You wanna beer, or what?”
“Yes, a beer,” Loki nodded in thanks, though the usual unimpressed sneer returned to his lips the moment her back was turned.
This place was filthy, unkempt, and all but falling down. Loki wondered at the pride then taken in such an establishment by those who seemed to have found a second home within its walls. Thor saw this world like a second home already, and Loki thought much the same of the whole planet as he did of this building, ridiculous tumble-down mess that it was. So far he had seen nothing worthy of praise, and this continued to be the case for at least an hour.
Sat at a table in the darkest corner, Loki was happy to hide his face and just observe. He felt not the heat of the day or any longer heard the din of so-called music in the bar. His mind was occupied with taking in every aspect of this human life that so intrigued his dear brother. The companionship of the males, the attractive shape of the females. One in particular of the women caught his eye at last. She was different to the rest, more of her skin covered by clothing, which made her strangely more alluring to Loki. Perhaps it was the challenge of it all. Those already half undressed and pawing all over their menfolk, it was too easy. Loki preferred a game, a challenge, and such the woman at the bar might yet prove to be.
From the angle at which he sat, Loki saw little of her face, but in profile at least she was pretty enough. Long flowing red hair cascaded down her back, her figure no less than fine. Even amongst those of Asgard, she would certainly not appear lacking in height or beauty. Perhaps she had not the strength of body or character that such beings as his own kind possessed, but Loki had a mind to test all the theories he had of Midgardians with this forlorn soul.
She drank much, his copper-haired beauty. There was a sadness that almost radiated from her very being, and Loki wondered at her even being in such a place. Certainly it was clear she belonged almost as much as he did himself, which was to say not at all. Though she was of Earth at least, she was not the kind to usually frequent such an establishment as this, to drink as copiously as she was tonight.
The girls behind the bar continued to bring tiny shots of alcohol that seemed inconsequential to Loki and yet their power must have been great indeed. The woman he watched grew tired, her voice slurring, her limbs appearing too heavy for her to lift. Twice she almost tipped entirely from her high seat, and the third time it happened she seemed incapable of saving herself. Loki made to rise and assist her, seeing an opportunity he should like to seize. It angered him to see another take his place.
One of the leather-clad imbeciles appeared beside the woman, an arm round her back to support her. At first she laughed and thanked him for his help, but in a moment the situation changed. She was frightened, and the one that held her grew impatient and angry. His friends urged him on, propositioning the woman in foul ways that clearly caused her to panic.
Loki had no fear in stepping from the shadows then and making his presence known. A common brawl was not his place at all, but he had powers these dull creatures could not conceive. When the gang of fools surrounded him and threatened his life with blades and bullets both, Loki only laughed and berated them for their primitive weapons. They never saw what hit them, never would fully comprehend how they were at once in the room and then gone from it within a second.
“Wow!” said the red-head at the bar. “I... How did you...?”
“Madam,” he turned and nodded to her, taking up her hand in his and placing a kiss on the back. “You are quite uninjured, I trust?”
“I’m... Yeah, thanks,” she replied dreamily. “I’m Mary-Kate,” she giggled, pushing her hair back behind her ear.
“Mary-Kate. What a perfectly delightful name,” Loki told her, as charming as ever anyone could be.
It took little to impress these Midgardian women, Loki learnt, though he suspected one might have to make a little more effort if the female to be approached had not imbibed quite so many of these ‘shots’ that seemed so popular with dear Mary-Kate.
She spoke of her own suffering too much for Loki’s liking, and yet it was entertaining to flatter her, to watch her blush, to find as time went on that her body grew closer to his own, that her inhibitions disappeared almost completely.
“You have suffered much, my darling,” he told her, though he cared little or nothing for the stresses of her ‘terrible day’, the man who had betrayed her, the employment she had lost. “You should be appreciated, your tears dried by one much more worthy to care for you than those you have known before,” he said gently, his fingers at her cheek and in her hair.
They were so close their lips were practically touching already and Mary-Kate’s eyes fell shut seemingly of their own accord.
“I must be crazy,” she whispered. “I don’t even know your name.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he told her, claiming her mouth.
The sensation was strange but not unpleasant to Loki. The woman hesitated very little before giving herself over to him willingly and with a kind of abandon that even he hadn’t quite expected. She mumbled incoherent words against his lips, her nails digging into his skin as she all but wrapped herself around his body. He heard something of a hotel that they should go to, that it was not far.
The journey from the bar was blurry at best. Loki never lost control, he knew better, and yet the thrill of this woman, this beautiful temptress that craved his touch so badly, it was oddly intoxicating. She wished to lie with him, to allow him anything he pleased if only he would stay at her side, continue to elicit the moans from her throat that could only be sounds of longing and pleasure both. He took in little of the hotel room she brought him to, and knew only her skin under his hands, her body wrapped around his, for the pleasurable hours that followed.
Before the dawn broke on Midgard, Loki was gone. He had gained an understanding by then of what the Midgardians called the ‘pleasures of the flesh’. It was a pleasant enough way to spend the night, but Loki remained unimpressed, at least that was what he would tell anyone who ever dared to ask.