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Blood & Mischief

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The outbreak happened 3 years ago.

One thousand, one hundred and sixteen days, to be exact.

How I’d managed to survive this long was still somewhat of a mystery to me. I’d lost everything between then and now: family, friends, home, any sense of safety in the world. My own identity.

Sense of self, it turns out, tends to crumble under the urgency of raw survival.

The whole things was pretty ironic when you thought about it; Planet earth, devastated by vampirism.

If I’d had any sense of humor left, I might have had a good laugh. I could still remember a time when I’d been part of the simpering fangirl collective who daydreamed of being ravished by beautiful creatures of the night a la Brad Pitt in Interview with the Vampire--or better yet, Tom Hiddleston in Only Lovers Left Alive.

Fucking vampires. We’d made them so sexy and glamorous for our own entertainment--but the reality was throat-tearing, soul-rending, worldwide devastation.

The virus killed two-thirds of the human beings it infected. The other third turned into soulless, blood-sucking reptiles.

I don’t mean that literally–at least, not the reptile part. They still look pretty much human, except for the waxy, pallid skin and nightmare teeth. But their minds are reptilian: cold, pitiless, predatory. It’s like the virus triggers some kind of de-evolution. They lose the ability to think and feel, even to speak.

I guess it’s something to be grateful for, honestly; I’d gotten along so far by outsmarting them. Intelligent, predatory humans with insatiable bloodlust would have been much harder to survive.

During the initial outbreak, the news reports had claimed the virus came from outer-space. Some extraterrestrial visitor had brought it to us during the attack on New York, when that crazy portal opened up in the sky and started vomiting aliens on midtown Manhattan.

That day had been my twenty-first birthday.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

Six months later, the apocalypse had come and gone, and I was living in a sturdy little greenhouse on the roof of an abandoned ten-story apartment building on the Upper East side.

I’ll spare you the story of how I ended up there. Anyone who’s seen Dawn of the Dead or 28 Days Later can conjure a worthy approximation of what I went through.

As for my rooftop abode, well, vampires, it turned out, weren’t much for heights. And while they wouldn’t die from sun exposure, they sure as shit didn’t like it. In fact, they didn’t like bright lights at all.

So, I’d dragged a couple of generators up onto the roof, set myself up with three high powered flood lights, barred the single entrance, and made myself a stronghold.

For two and a half years, I’d been going out periodically to scavenge and returning to my rooftop stronghold at night to sleep in the bright glare of the floodlights.

I hadn’t seen another uninfected human being in over a year.

Which was fine with me. The last time I’d run into a gang of survivors they’d tried to take me prisoner. Women, it seemed–especially young and relatively healthy ones–were in very short supply.

Humanity had reverted to the days when females were little more than currency.

So, I resigned myself to a solitary lifestyle. I’d been cultivating a very successful garden in my little greenhouse. In fact, I was getting along pretty well, all things considered.

I mean, I’d been talking to myself for months, having the occasional genuine hallucination brought on by PTSD, stress and prolonged isolation–you know, typical lonely, post-apocalyptic neurosis. But I was alive, even if I wasn’t always sure I wanted to be.

I didn’t think about the past much, or the future, for that matter. The future especially.

There wasn’t much to think about besides… well, more of the same.

Years and years of loneliness at best. Or, more likely, a sudden, gruesome death. Possibly a slow descent into madness, followed by suicide or starvation.

I might have been brutally depressed, but I think that was pretty reasonable, given the state of things.

It also might explain why I wasn’t more…resistant…when everything suddenly changed.

That is, when the fucking King of Vampires showed up on my doorstep, as it were.

… … …

I didn’t hear a thing when he arrived. It was night. I was in my tent in the greenhouse, sleeping. And then I woke up and thought, I have to go out and turn off the lights.

So I did.

He was standing on the ledge of the building, silhouetted by the fucking moonlight like something out of a goddamn movie. And he was wearing a cape.

Jesus H. Christ, folks.  A cape. A fucking cape.

Even caught in his thrall I remember thinking how ridiculous that was. And how weirdly…sexy.

He was tall. Broad shoulders. Long dark hair. Red, glowing eyes.

That was all I could make out aside from the triangle of fabric flowing artfully around him in the darkness.

I should have known something was off when I realized I wasn’t scared. In fact, I was relieved.

He was going to save me. Take me someplace safe. Feed me and take care of me.

I remember thinking, Why the fuck would he do that? but it was a distant thought, seemingly unimportant.

And then he moved a little bit. I couldn’t see the gesture clearly, but I didn’t need to. He had beckoned me to him.

So I went.

I wanted to.

A moment later, standing directly beneath him, looking up at the deeply shadowed contours of his face, I understood who he was.

I’d seen him on the news what seemed like eons ago. In another life.

He’d been stunningly handsome, which might be why I remembered him so clearly. Or maybe it was because he wanted me to remember.

He looked different now, though. I didn’t remember his eyes being that luminous, reflective crimson color. His hair was much longer, too. Skin darker. In fact, was his face….blue?

I didn’t have much time to wonder. Cool fingers touched my cheek as those cold, glowing eyes looked down on me.

And then nothing.



Chapter Text

I don't remember waking. I'm not sure I'd ever lost consciousness at all. I was on the rooftop, and then I was in a dark, candle-lit room, naked in an enormous tub, and someone was bathing me.

Long, cool fingers moved between my legs.

I gasped-I could hear the sound echoing in the room around me-and I grabbed at the masculine arm angled down into the water.

His fingers were inside me and his arm was like steel. 

He leaned over the tub, red eyes bright in the dimness, sculpted face very close to mine. And it was blue-deep, velvety azure, marked with fine, curving ridges like upraised tattoos.

Thin lips curved in a cold, predatory smile.

I cried out then, and the sound was pathetically strangled. My mouth wouldn't open.

"Shhh." He grinned, fangs gleaming, black pupils dilating wildly.

I shhhed. Frozen under his touch-under the electric terror his red gaze conjured-my throat seized up until my lungs began to burn.

His fingers curled inside me, drawing a rush of liquid pleasure that made me jerk and clench, horrified denial melting under raw, blazing hunger.

Loki of Asgard leaned toward me, thin lips relaxing over his elongated canines, tongue peeking as his mouth opened.

A moment later that glossy pink appendage dipped into my waiting mouth-I'd opened for him without realizing it, without meaning to-and he was kissing me, lips gliding, sucking, tongue curling inside me in blatant mimicry of his penetrating fingers.

God, it felt so good. Terrifyingly good.

Why the fuck did it feel so good?!

My thoughts were not my own, I realized distantly. Loki had already taken up residence in my mind. I could feel him there, drinking my fear, feeding me his desire. Bending my thoughts to his will.

His cock was hard. I knew this without needing to see it.

He meant to fuck me. Feed from me. Keep me as his pet. His slave.

His treasure.

He waited for the rush of horror as I came to understand my fate--the sharp wave of terror. And then he chased it with desire. Doused me with his hunger until the two feelings twisted together in an agony of need.

Long fingers jerked inside me, jammed deep, echoed by the thrust of his tongue in my mouth.

Suffocating under the weight of those twin pleasures--and the indistinguishable pulse of my own terror--I came. Bucking, water sloshing, screaming around his tongue, I came.

I'd never felt pleasure like that before. Throat-tearing, soul-rending pleasure. 

World-devastating pleasure.

The next thing I knew I was lying on cold tiles with the God of Blood and Mischief looming over me, black silk shirt sliding over his broad shoulders, narrow hips jammed between my legs. He flicked his pants open with one hand and held me down with the other. 

I felt his cock against me, nudging the open lips of my sex. By body seemed to flower open to him, to weep in silent welcome despite my terror.

He paused, red eyes glowing down at me in the darkness. 

My mind cleared very breifly and I had one thought that was undeniably my own--the thought that this was rape, that I could fight him, that I should fight him.

I had a choice in that. I could fight him if I wanted. I understood even then that he was giving me that choice.

Because he didn't have to.

He could make me cooperate. He could make me believe that I wanted it--that I'd chosen to give myself to him.

The woman I was before the outbreak would have been ashamed by how quickly the decision was made. The woman I'd become, though...she was a creature of survival. She already knew there was no question. If Loki wanted me, he would have me, regardless of any resistance. Perhaps, if I submitted willingly, I would live a little longer.

And then there was the pleasure. He'd given me a preview of what he could do to my body--the ecstacy he could give me--and the press of his cock promised more. More than his mouth or his fingers. More pleasure than I could even imagine.

I hadn't felt pleasure--real pleasure of any kind--in one thousand, one hundred and sixteen days. But I had felt terror--for almost every moment of that time.

Terror was no problem. Terror was normal.

Pleasure was a fucking lifeline, even offered by a ruthless vampire-god. The lure of it blotted out everything else--wiped away the isolation, the creeping sense of madness.

And at the same time, it felt like a dissolution: the final surrender to the darkness that had been licking at my mind for months on end, stranded and alone in a bleak, dying world.

Surrender would be a relief, after everything I'd been through.

I think I screamed again when his cock came inside me. All I can remember for sure was the sound he made--the low, animal growl of satisfaction--and the bright surge of sensation: pain and pleasure stabbing me brutally.

But I had made my decision. I wrapped my legs around his hips and lifted myself to the searing glide of his cock.

And just like that, I was lost.

... ... ...

He had me there on the floor for what seemed like ages, pinned roughly beneath him, bruised by his thrusts, his hands. Coming, and coming, and coming again around the broad, pistoning column of his cock.

He bit me several times: on my upper arms, both breasts, once on the left side of my jaw. And each time he drew blood, but didn't drink. Instead he licked, rubbed the coppery trickles with his lips and looked at the marks with blazing, animal gratification.

I didn't like the biting--it fucking hurt. Each time he showed his teeth I bucked and fought, twisting helplessly in his iron grip. Fighting ineffectually to avoid that hungry mouth.

And he liked it. The bastard liked that I fought, even as his relentless thrusting brought me again. He liked that I whimpered with orgasm and denial at once, clenching around his cock as I tried to shrink from his teeth.

He could make the biting painless--I wasn't sure how I knew this, because I didn't have the presence of mind to think much of anything--but I did.

He made it hurt because he liked it.

And when he finally came, it was with his teeth clamped around my right nipple, growling so low it was almost inaudible and thrusting hard enough to make my teeth bang together.

But I came again, too.

In a blind, screaming haze, pleasure burning in every nerve, I came.

... ... ...

Hours later, I woke in an enormous four-poster bed, swimming in green satin sheets. There was a narrow leather collar around my neck. It had no closure that I could find, and there was some seamless, unyielding material inside. Metal, I presumed.

I sat up and looked around, one hand tugging perfunctorily at the collar, knowing full well it wouldn't come off but feeling obligated to try. 

I could at least pretend I wasn't already resigned to being his sex slave.

Jesus, was this really happening? The unreality of it was incredible. Loki--agent of my planet's destruction, God of Mischief and chaos, blue-skinned, vampiric alien overlord--had taken me as his plaything.

And with hardly a moment of resistance, I had accepted it.

I sat there for a long time, turning it over in my mind with a strange, hollow feeling.

Just the thought of him made my womb clench and my skin crawl with goosebumps. Dread and anticipation. Hunger and repulsion.

I wanted him. Or my body did. At the same time, I was terrified of his return. Of what he would do to me. What he could make me do.

I looked around for the exit. There was one door--a broad, heavy wooden one with a thick steel handle. I could open it, try to leave. But even if I did manage to get away, there was nothing to escape to--nothing but devastation and loneliness. Unending isolation. Ever-impending death.

And that slow madness I could still feel lurking at the edges of my consciousness.

Maybe I was mad already, and that was why I'd chosen not to fight.

Well, there wasn't any sense in dwelling on it. I hadn't made my bed, but here it was, and I had no choice but to lie in it.

With a beautiful, brutal, blue-skinned vampire.

For however long it took him to drain me dry.


Looking around at what I could only assume was his bedroom--a dark, windowless cavern with sumptuous Victorian style furniture, enormous white fur rugs, and a fireplace big enough for me to stand in--I was both relieved and disappointed to find myself alone.

I was also hungry, and there was a tray of food on the carved mahogany table near the fireplace. I could smell it: fresh bread and cheese. A bowl of cut fruit. And meat. I hadn't had meat in ages.

Heart pounding with anxiety--like a child sneaking sweets before dinner--I slid naked from the bed and padded to the table.

It didn't occur to me until I'd lifted a piece of thinly sliced ham to my mouth--a soft roll of bread already clutched in my other hand--that I wasn't hurting.

The mouth-watering pleasure of the ham was abruptly displaced by shock as I looked down and saw that my body was completely unmarked.

The man--alien, vampire, whatever--had healed me.

What the fuck?

"Humans are terribly delicate."

Heart in my throat, I spun towards that deep, velvety drawl.

He sat lounging a few feet away in a chair, shirtless and smug-faced, black hair trailing down his chest in lazy curls. Blue skin vivid in the soft light spilling from the sconces on the wall behind him.

That chair had been empty a moment ago, I was quite sure.

The food turned to ash in my mouth as he leaned forward, rising in a lazy, fluid motion that brought heat and moisture between my legs and pure animal fear to my racing heart.

"I had to heal you," he went on, in that same midnight drawl, "Else I couldn't use you again today."

Well, that statement brought a cascade of hot, tremulous feelings.

Wait a minute... was this fucker reading my mind?

A predatory grin unfurled slowly across his face, red eyes glittering.

"This fucker owns you," he growled, stalking me across the small space between us. "Body and mind."

He stood over me, face hard, lust and violence rolling off him like heat waves.

I wanted to shrink away, to run, anything, but I was frozen.

"It's been too long," he growled, bending over me, teeth flashing, "since I lost my last pet."

I thought he was going to kiss me, or maybe bite me, but he spun me around at the last moment and I found myself face down over the table, one hand on the tray, knocking over the bowl of fruit in a loud clatter of porcelain on metal.

"I could fuck you for days," he said darkly. "Maybe I will."

Half a breath later he pushed inside, stretching me painfully. I heard myself cry out and felt his hand on my lower back, holding me in place. 

The piercing glide of his cock was met with an instant surge of wetness--like my body recognized him, welcomed him.

He grunted with satisfaction and drove himself right to the hilt. Then he lifted me, using his hips to drive me up further onto the table until my scrabbling toes came clear off the floor.

"Mmm," he purred, bending down and thrusting hard at the same moment. I cried out again, half denial and half pleasure, legs flailing, hands grabbing blindly at the top of the table.

"You are so responsive," he murmured, giving me another lunge. Punctuating the next few thrusts with deep, rumbling commentary: "Sweet. Tight. So hot." 

His chest came up against my back, mouth grazing my ear as he thrust again, whispering, "It's so easy to make you wet."

My brain had turned to steaming mush. I might have whimpered. Struggled. I might have begged, for all I know--I certainly would, in the days and weeks to come.

His cock felt huge wedged way up inside me like that. I could hardly breathe around his presence in my body.

Then his hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back. My heart tried to leap right out of my throat.

He was going to bite me again. His mouth was open and wet on the side of my throat, his cock still working deep inside me.

I was terrified--and I was going to come. I think I tried to push him off because he pinned one flailing arm with his free hand and bit me hard, right at the base of my neck.

I shrieked then and he laughed--dark, rumbling, incredibly erotic laughter--and he was licking the wound, thrusts coming faster, harder.

"Come," he whispered, "Come for me, little pet. Let me feel your pussy flutter."

Then he let go of my hair and jammed my chest against the table with one hand, bending my arm behind my back with the other, pumping furiously.

Pleasure seemed to crackle from his cock like electricity. I came so hard I couldn't make a sound--like when you're so scared you can't even scream, or when you laugh so hard it robs you of your breath.

I would have moved--would have thrust back mindlessly into his body if I could have--but he was holding me down so hard I couldn't even fill my lungs, and the pleasure wracked me.

"Ahh," he groaned thrusting straight through my spasms, "Good girl."

I sucked a loud breath as the last wave of pleasure ebbed, and then he was lifting me again, turning, tossing me unceremoniously onto the bed.

Fine satin sheets clung to my face. I tried to turn instinctively, a prey animal fighting in vain to keep the lurking predator in my sights--but he was already mounting me again, making that fucking sound as he thrust inside: that low, velvety purr of satisfaction.

"Nice and hard this time," he murmured, taking up a rhythm that jarred my whole body. "You like that, hm? You came so many times when I fucked you like this on the bathroom floor."

God, he sounded so smug. Even in the haze of his thrall, it rankled me. I managed to look back over my shoulder at him, catching his self-satisfied grin as he rode me into the mattress.

"Ooh, such a glare." He tsked. "But your little pussy says you like it. Look here." He pulled out and flipped me abruptly onto my back, grinning at my yelp of surprise.

"See?" He yanked my legs up around his hips and looked down. "Look how wet it is."

I looked. His cock stood straight up between my naked thighs, stiff and blue against his muscled belly. And the fucking thing glistened.

"You--" I rasped, surprising us both. My voice was dry as sandpaper.

He arched a brow. "I?"

Long-fingered blue hands slid down from my knees towards the curls between my legs.

"Y-you're doing it," I managed, almost voiceless.

"Doing what?" he challenged, fingers grazing the crease where my thighs met my hips.

I shook my head because I didn't know what he was doing--but I knew he was doing something.

"You're m-making me," I rasped.

Blue lips curled back from long, white fangs. "Making you what? Come? We can certainly agree on that."

Bastard. He knew damn well that wasn't what I meant.

I opened my mouth to say so but the words cut off on a gasp as he yanked my hips up and thrust inside.

"I'll make you come to your heart's content, little kitten," he growled. "You'll come on my cock until just the thought of it is enough to make your pussy gush."

He bent and sunk his teeth into my breast, pumping hard, ignoring my clipped little scream of pain. I tried to push his head away, clawed at his shoulders when he didn't budge.

He pinned my hands without even looking.

"You tighten when I bite you," he growled, licking the blood away in long, wet stripes, hips working furiously between my legs. "You're going to come again already."

He was right, I realized with a hot surge of anger and humiliation. His mouth pulled wetly at my nipple, suction sweet and gentle while his cock pounded inside me, battering me between pain and pleasure.

I screamed with it, bowing sharply as the pleasure snapped up my spine.

"Good, kitten," he rasped breathlessly, pumping hard and fast, "Me too."

And then he arched above me, flexing beautifully, head thrown back and mouth open as his cock released hot spurts of come deep into my body.

Chapter Text

“Why don’t you feed from me?”

The question fell into languid silence. Loki had rolled off me and subsided into the pillows several minutes ago. I lay on my side turned away from him, listening to his steady breath, too anxious to sleep with a predatory god lying naked beside me.

“You’re malnourished,” he said, voice deep and indolent.

Sexy, shit-eating asshole.

He chuckled and I felt him roll towards me.

Fuck. I’d forgotten he could read my mind.

Cool blue fingers traced my hip and made me cringe with a mix of anxiety and arousal.

“I’ll drink from you when you’ve had a few good meals and your system is stronger,” he said, fingers trailing up to my waist. “In the meantime, you’ll have to content yourself with my cock.”

Why did he sound so goddamn smug all the time?

“I don’t want you to drink from me,” I protested, curling away from his touch.

His hand pushed under my arm and grasped my breast. At the same time, I felt his hair tickle my shoulder and his breath on my ear. “But you do want my cock,” he whispered.

Shivering, I tried to push his hand away. He gripped my breast harder--hard enough to make me whimper, though the touch produced a tingling burn of arousal. He hadn't healed the placed where he bit me yet. My nipple throbbed and ached under his touch.

It was a very strange and uncomfortable feeling to realize that I liked it. Not the biting itself, but the dull pain in my breast and the way his fingers made it flare and sizzle.

“What a revelation you are,” he murmured, pulling me back against his body. “Such a hot little creature. I’m going to enjoy teaching you to service me.”

Shit. He was hard again. I could feel the head of his cock prodding my ass.

“Lesson one begins now,” he continued darkly. And then he turned me around and rolled onto his back, lifting me over his hips.

I tensed, fully expecting him to bring me down onto his cock, but he sat me across his thighs and let go.

I found myself braced with both hands on his chest, staring down into brilliant red eyes.

“Suck me,” he commanded.

I sat back, glancing down nervously at his cock, gaze skittering away from the thick, curved appendage.

The damn thing was gorgeous. I hadn’t even known a cock could be gorgeous.

Now,” he snapped. “Or I take it upon myself to fuck your throat.”

Shit, shit, shit!

Letting him fuck me--dominate me--was one thing. Sucking him of my own accord though... Even after he'd ordered me to--it was worse, somehow. Much worse.

I could be his slave, but this…this made me feel like his whore. Or, more accurately, his slut. Whores got paid, after all.  

What goddamn difference does it make, though? You’ll have to suck him, either way.

“You have five seconds,” he grated.

I could only imagine how agonizing he would make the experience if I refused.

Slowly, heart pounding, I forced myself down over him, slipping between his open legs. My limbs felt stiff and uncooperative.

With his cock lying rigidly between us, I glanced up at his face one final time, glaring into bright red eyes.

“Make it good,” he growled, pointed teeth flashing.

“What’s in it for me?” I retorted recklessly.

Loki burst into laughter, teeth very white, eyes crinkling.

God, he was beautiful. I fucking hated how beautiful he was.

“A belly full of my come is what’s in it for you,” he replied, still smiling. Then he took hold of my hair and yanked my head down. “Now suck me.”

I don’t know where I got the nerve to resist, but I was furious, and in the end he had to force himself into my mouth, holding my head between his hands and lifting his hips.

My heart hammered in my chest, waiting for him to jam himself down my throat, to choke me, suffocate me with his cock--but he was surprisingly gentle about it. 

He groaned when the head struck my tongue, and then again when I started to suck. 

For some insane reason that careful force made me feel…almost wild.

And his cock tasted good. Clean and slightly salty. Skin as smooth as the sheets and strangely cool.

Somewhere along the line I forgot that I was angry and just… lost myself to it. I sucked him with my mouth watering hungrily around his length, drawing on the broad head with unabashed eagerness, gripping his narrow hips as he thrust into my mouth. Even listening–and obeying–when he coached me to relax through the spasming of my throat.

And God, it was intoxicating to listen to his sounds: his moans, his panting breath, the deep, murmured encouragements.

Yes, right there, kitten. Use your tongue.

Ahhh…Gods. Deeper. There!

Good, harder. Suck the head.

And best of all, that wordless growling as he reached his climax, holding my head and thrusting against my tonsils, pumping hot liquid into the back of my throat.

I swallowed it without being told. Suckled him in the aftermath with a hazy sort of satisfaction.

“I can smell your arousal,” he murmured drowsily. “You must be dripping.”

I stiffened, suddenly remembering myself--my disintegrating pride. I released his sex. The damn thing was still hard.

Loki was looking down at me with hooded crimson eyes.

“Come up here and ride me,” he rumbled. “Please yourself on my cock.”

The words--the thought--made me throb all over. But my limbs had gone stiff again with refusal. I couldn’t make myself do it--couldn’t be the one to initiate the act.

It was stupid. I’d just sucked him whole-heartedly. I’d enjoyed sucking him. Had even eagerly drunk his come! Remembering the taste of him and the way his cock jerked when he came made my insides clench hungrily.

“Still?” he murmured, reading the resistance on my face.

I glared and shook my head.  

“Well,” he drawled, “That’s too bad. I am rather sleepy, though. Perhaps tomorrow.”

And then he tucked his hands behind his head and shut his eyes with a contented sigh.

I sat up slowly between his legs, watching his face go slack; long, lean body relaxing easily into the mattress.

Was…was he really sleeping right now?

His breath had gone slow and even.

This unbelievable asshole!

I looked at his cock. Only half-hard now, rounded pink head leaning to one side.

My hands were splayed on his thighs. Thick, masculine thighs. Those raised markings decorated the smooth blue flesh in graceful, swooping lines. They were on his belly too, and his pecs. His arms and shoulders. My fingers suddenly itched to trace those lines. To chase them all around his body.

He was so smooth. Hairless, except for the glossy black waves on his head and the cluster of black curls around the base of his cock.

Why the fuck was this evil bastard so goddamn beautiful?

And why should I not be allowed to enjoy him of my own volition? I’d already surrendered to sexual slavery--in the midst of a hopeless goddamn vampire apocalypse, no less.

The least I could do was take whatever pleasure this cursed world condescended to offer me.

Even if it was humiliating.

Gritting my teeth with sheer determination, I lifted myself up to straddle his hips, sitting back against his thighs so I could reach his cock to stroke it with both hands.

I did not look at his face--refused to acknowledge the insufferable smugness I knew must be painted all over his handsome features.

But when he was hard again and I lifted myself to take him inside, I did look briefly; instead of smugness, I found him watching me with unmistakable gratification in his hooded crimson eyes.

His lips parted as his cock slid inside, eyelids drooping with pleasure, soft breath almost soundless.

“Good,” he whispered when I’d taken him to the hilt. And then, on a soft, hissing breath as I started moving, “That was lesson two.”

… … …

He was making this stupid Lesson shit up as he went, I felt sure.

Lesson three was ‘don’t come without my permission,’ and he used it as an excuse to torture me mercilessly.

After breakfast--which he made me eat from his hand while sitting in his lap like a trained dog--he took me on the velvet couch in the lounge area, riding me with uncharacteristic gentility and incredible, focused skill.

I came the first time in less than a minute, at which point the bastard spanked me for failing to withhold my orgasm.

Then he had me again on the soft fur rug with my legs over his shoulders. I held out for all of three minutes that time. He spanked me again, until my ass felt like it would burst into flames. The pain made me wild, almost desperate. 

The third time, still on the floor but with my legs around his waist and his mouth pulling expertly on my breasts, I lasted almost ten minutes.

I cursed and fought like hell when he flipped me over and started paddling my ass again.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” I shrieked, trying to slither out of his grip and escape the big hand making loud, rhythmic impacts on my abused ass.

“Of course I am,” he replied cheerfully, pinning my shoulders to the floor with one forearm and staring in on the backs of my thighs. “It would hardly be punishment if I did it by accident.”

“No–ah!–you bastard!” I cried, words broken by the sharp, stinging pain of each impact. “You–ahh!–keep making–mm!--me come!”

His hand paused and I lay panting with my face in the soft white fur of the rug, tears stinging my eyes.

Who knew an open palm could fucking hurt so badly!

The fact that it also made my pussy buzz and pulse with need was even worse.

“Would you prefer that I didn’t make you come?” he asked curiously.

Right away, I sensed danger.

Turning my head to look up at him, I said carefully, “I would prefer that you didn’t make it impossible for me to stop myself from coming just so that you can beat me when I fail.”

He grinned. “If I made the lesson easy, there would be no pleasure in teaching it, would there?”

Then he rolled on top of me and gripped my burning ass with both hands as he pushed inside.

Lesson three lasted until lunchtime, and I felt nearly raw from the small of my back to the tender skin behind my knees.

Not once did I succeed in holding back my orgasm. Loki made damned sure of that.

After lunch, he skipped ahead to lesson four, the purpose of which--like lesson two--wasn’t entirely clear, but it involved me sitting in his lap and kissing him in a very particular way while he lifted me up and down on his cock. I wasn’t allowed to forget myself and stop kissing at any time, which was (surprise!) impossible to do when every damn thing he did was designed to make me mindless with pleasure.

Lesson four went on for the better part of an hour before he gave it up. Every time I came near orgasm and forgot to keep kissing, he stopped moving until the orgasm had receded. Of course, I had to continue kissing him in the meantime--and I couldn’t be lazy about it either.

Not that kissing him was any great burden. To be honest, I liked kissing him. Especially when heet me be in control of it--let me suck his lips and caress his tongue at my own pace. Matching me instead if dominating.

The sense of power it gave me--the way he responded, his little sounds of enjoyment--made me burn with pleasure.

In the end, though, he lost his patience and took over, tongue thrusting, biting my lips as he neared his climax. Sucking my tongue as he spilled inside me.

His way was pretty good too, though, if I had to be perfectly honest. Loki's kisses made me feel muzzy and intoxicated. Much to my shame, I clung to him eagerly in the end, moaning into his mouth as he brought me.

These lessons went on for three days, and they got more and more creative--and more an more torturous for me.

For Lesson eight, Loki became maddeningly passive. I had to ask out loud for whatever I wanted during sex.

Please put your cock inside me and Thrust faster and Please suck my nipples.

He wouldn’t let me come until I said all the things I wanted, which was agonizing because the bastard could read my mind, so he knew everything I wanted.

Weirdly, the worst of that lesson was asking him to kiss me. I mean, at one point I even asked him to suck my clit--in those exact words; Loki, please suck my clit--because he wouldn’t fuck me until I said it. And that had been a revelation, too, because he didn’t just suck me, he made me come with his mouth. No one had ever done that for me before. 

Yet somehow, asking him to kiss me was even worse. It felt…intimate. Was that crazy? Probably. But I wanted him to kiss me almost constantly, and every time I had the thought he made me voice it. 

And when I did voice it, he kissed me with incredible focus, in exactly the way I wanted to be kissed. Slow and sensuous. Licking the inside of my mouth and letting me suckle his tongue. 

Even after we’d both come and I collapsed against him in a rosy stupor, he murmured smugly, Tell me what you want, kitten, and my heart leapt into my throat. 

I realized then that it was the first time I’d been genuinely afraid in days. What, exactly, I was afraid of at that moment, I couldn’t have said. Maybe I didn’t want to know. But when I murmured, Please kiss me, Loki, he did it slow and melting-sweet, like a lover rather than a ruthless master. 

I think I must have lost a little piece of myself in that kiss.

But then he’d turned the tables with lesson nine. I had to say, Yes, Loki, to every humiliating request he could think of, which included things like Would you like to beg for my cock? or Do you want me to come in your ass? 

And of course, if I didn’t say Yes, Loki unhesitatingly to each and every question, he spanked me again, or bit my breasts until I begged him to stop--and then he did whatever it was anyway.

By the end of that lesson, I’d begged him for all manner of pleasures. He even made me beg for the punishments. And for his kiss.

Lesson ten had me tied at the wrist and ankle, the rope attached to a low beam so my arms were drawn up high above my head and I had to stand on tiptoe to keep my shoulders from overextending.

Then Loki fucked me, first from behind, then from the front. Slow and deliberate, pausing to bite me half a dozen times on each side--neck, shoulders, arms, breasts, ass, hips, and thighs. He even sucked me for a while like that, kneeling and holding my ass cupped in both hands while he worked his tongue around my clit.

Not sure what I was supposed to learn from that one, but somewhere along the line I’d lost the will to resist him. Oh, he managed to humiliate me on a regular basis--to push me further and further beyond the limits of my comfort--but after almost a week of his unending sexual torture, I was… hooked.

Not just hooked, ensnared. Enchanted. Transfixed.

By the time he finally took my blood, he did own me, mind and body.

Whether I liked it or not.

Chapter Text

Loki didn't leave the room at all for the first four days. Servants brought my meals--human servants, all of them male and wearing collars similar to mine.

Loki, it seemed, had a bevy of slaves.

“They enter into servitude willingly,” he told me one day, after they’d taken away the empty dishes from my evening meal. “In exchange, I give them safety and nourishment. A home.”

He said it nonchalantly, but he watched me with sharp crimson eyes. I knew better than to try to hide my thoughts from him, so I simply asked, “Do you fuck them, too?”

And he laughed. “Some of them.” Then he dragged me across the mattress towards his body. “Jealous, kitten?”

I didn’t bother to protest. I was a bit jealous, and he knew it.

“You said before that you ‘lost’ your previous pet,” I said as he lay back and draped me over the front of his body like a blanket.

“Mmm,” he nuzzled my throat. “She died.”

I stiffened in shock.

“I didn’t kill her,” he rumbled, clearly amused. “I take good care of my pets. She succumbed to the virus.”

I slumped a little in relief.

Loki's hands slid up my back. His cock was hardening between us, pinned under my belly. This conversation wasn’t going to last much longer, so I wasted no time asking, "How did she contract the virus?”

“Blood,” he said absently, lifting me so his cock slipped between my legs. “She bit me.”

I gasped a little as he rocked me, using his hands on my hips to grind the lips of my sex over his shaft.

“Why would she do that?” I asked breathlessly.

Loki growled, teeth sinking into my shoulder, pushing my hips down so he could angle his cock upward and nudge the head inside.

“No more questions.”

But I thought I knew the answer anyway.

Either his last pet had wanted to die…

Or she’d wanted to live forever.

…   …   …

“What do you do all day when you’re not fucking me?”

I asked this question while Loki was still recovering from his most recent orgasm. I’d discovered he was more forthcoming when he was post-orgasmic, defenses lowered.

“I hunt,” he replied mildly, lying on his back against the pillows, eyes closed.

“That’s it?”

His head rolled toward me, eyelids cracking. “There’s little else to do on this ravaged planet.”

“You hunt humans?” I asked, heart beating faster in anticipation of his answer.

He looked amused. “Yes.”

“Do you kill them?”

Blue lips quirked. “It doesn’t benefit me to do so. Dead humans can’t produce fresh blood.”

Ah. “Do you feed from your servants?”

Ugh, there was that smug look again.

“I feed from them. I fuck them. Sometimes I even talk to them,” he drawled.

I ignored the provocation in his tone. “Then you don’t really need to hunt, do you?”

He chuckled. “Do you like to eat the same thing every day?”

Oh. “We taste different?”

“Of course you do,” he said dismissively, head rolling away again, eyes closing. “Besides, hunting is in my nature.” His lips curved. “And it’s terribly fun.”

“It doesn’t seem very challenging.”

He opened his eyes again. “What?”

“I mean, you just did that weird mind control thing and I came running. Not much of a hunt.”

One of his brows arched with amusement. “I was not hunting you, kitten.”


He flashed me a smile. “You were calling out to me. Begging to be taken.”

I glared at him, nonplussed and more than a little insulted. “I was not.”

Loki rolled onto his side toward me, propping his head on one arm. “You were lonely. You practically threw yourself into my arms.”

“You mind controlled me!” I hissed.

“I nudged you. That’s all it takes, pet. A little nudge and you turn to putty.” He grinned smugly. “Not all humans are so easy. You think I’ve been forcing you this whole time? Making you want me?”

I swallowed. “Haven’t you?”

His laughter made me burn with humiliation.

“I made you come that first time, in the bathtub. That’s it. After that, it was all you."

“You’re lying!”

“Am I?” Still with that smug grin.

He was fucking with my head. Had to be.

“I’ve no reason to lie about it, kitten. I heard your call from halfway across Manhattan and I came. You needed me to push you towards submission and I did. Are you not happier now?”

“What do you mean you heard my call?” I demanded hotly. “You think I was just waiting around for you to come and take me? You think I wanted to be your sex slave? I didn’t even know you were still on this planet!”

“Not me,” he corrected calmly. “You wanted someone--anyone--to come and take you. You were dying of isolation.” He looked me over with smug derision. “Humans are so weak.”

I lost it. I just fucking lost it.

This bastard had destroyed my planet, indirectly caused the deaths of everyone I ever loved, plucked me from my safe little rooftop, enslaved me, fucked me senseless for days on end, made me enjoy it, and he was sitting here telling me I wanted it all along? Like somehow I had asked for all this?

I flew at him in a blind rage, hitting and kicking like a madwoman. Clawing that smooth blue skin and shrieking in wordless anguish.

Of course, he overpowered me in seconds, pinned me easily with my arms above my head and stretched his body on top of me, using his weight to keep me still.

I kept fighting though--and I was crying, I realized, sobbing and snarling like an animal.

“Alright,” he said quietly, “That’s enough. Calm down.”

But it just made me angrier. I screamed between my teeth and tried to bite him.

“Shh,” he said, leaning back to avoid my mouth. “You don’t want to do that, remember? The virus will kill you.”

I don’t care!” I wailed, trying desperately to buck him off. “I didn’t ask for this! I don’t want to be your plaything!”

“Alright,” he said again, in that same steady voice. “Calm down, kitten. I was only teasing you.”

I felt him in my mind then--the so-called nudge--a gentle urge to relax, to be calm.

It was tempting--almost intoxicating. I knew how good it felt to surrender to him.

But this time I decided to fight.

Get out of my head!” I screamed. “Get out, get out!

“Kitten,” he said reproachfully.

I hate you!

“No, you don’t.”

His face was very close and terribly beautiful, red eyes soft and…almost compassionate.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured.


“No!” I tried to buck him off with renewed desperation.

“Hush,” he went on, lifting himself a little so he could look between our bodies. “You’ll feel better after.”

He straddled my thighs, blue cock standing up hard between us. Then he rearranged my wrists so he could hold them with one hand and bring the other hand to his cock.

I moaned in helpless denial as he angled the head towards my sex and pushed slowly inside.

And then I moaned again, only this time it was a sound of anguish and unwanted pleasure.

“There,” he said, thrusting gently. “Isn’t that good?”


“You’re wet, though,” he purred, moving languidly. “You’re always wet for me. From the very beginning. Do you really think I’m making that happen?”

Yes,” I cried, and it sounded petulant even to my own ears.

He tsked. “I told you, only that first time.”

God, why was he being so gentle? He rode me carefully, tenderly, free hand touching my breasts, making the nipples tingle and tighten with pleasure.

It made my head swim.

“There’s no shame in it, pet,” he murmured, blue chest expanding now as his breath began to quicken. “You longed to have some joy in your life. Companionship, pleasure. I’ve given you that, haven’t I?”

He had, of course. Not joy, but certainly pleasure, and…yes, companionship, too.

“It could be joyful between us,” he murmured, cock gliding deep and slow inside me. “If you let yourself surrender to it fully.”

He bent and licked my throat while I contemplated those words in a miserable haze of pleasure and heartbreak.

I’d never felt so alone in all my life as I did at that moment, with Loki moving deep inside me.

That was the problem, I realized. I did want this. To be with someone--even him. Even as his pet. As long as I didn’t have to be alone anymore.

But I still felt alone.

“I’m here, kitten,” Loki whispered, each syllable laden with pleasure as his thrusts quickened.

Tears flooded from my eyes and trickled down over my temples, into my ears. An orgasm swelled between my legs.

“Make me come,” I rasped. “But don’t lie to me anymore.”

He pulled back a little to look at me, eyes glowing with hunger. “I am not lying.”

“That’s all you ever do.”

His gaze narrowed with anger, and then he let go of my wrists and sat back on his heels, cock slipping free of my body to bob stiffly in the open air.

I thought he would speak, but instead, he yanked my hips up and bent down to my sex, sucking the lips into his mouth.

I heard myself gasp, saw my body bow towards him as his tongue found my clit and circled it wetly.

“Lesson fifteen,” he growled against my flesh, and then he sucked me so hard I came in a silent, screaming seizure, legs clamped around his head, spine bowing clear up off the mattress.

I heard him let go a few seconds later, releasing me with a wet little pop, but the pleasure didn’t stop, and the next thing I knew his mouth was open on the inside of my thigh, teeth penetrating in a sharp, painful pinch.

Pleasure seemed to pour from his open mouth, rushing directly into my veins, into my pussy, my womb. I came again before the first orgasm had completely gone, and this time I did scream aloud, hands fisted in his black hair, hips jerking.

He was drinking from me, I realized distantly. I could feel the delicious suction. Every pull seemed to draw on my sex as well as my blood. Pleasure unlike anything I’d ever felt with him before came flooding along every nerve ending, seeping down to my very bones.

And with it came… Loki. 

I could feel him in every cell–every fiber of my being. His pleasure, his ownership, his hunger. All of it centered on me.

He was more inside me at that moment than he had ever been while he was fucking me. 

His thoughts were a dark river, treacherous, intoxicating. 

Mine, he thought hungrily. My kitten. My treasure. All mine.

But under the possession there was something else--an echo of the lonliness I felt. A deep well of jagged, hopeless feelings. 

It touched something inside me--the core of my own suffering. The knot of helpless misery I'd been carrying for the last three years. 

Something inside me broke open like a dam. All my resistance washed away. 

At some point he let go of my thigh, and then his mouth was at my throat and he bit me there too, drinking again, cock buried to the hilt inside me, riding me desperately as he fed.

I put my arms around him, clutched him closer, drank his thoughts and the pulse of his possession, savoring every drop. 

I was lost, swept away in the pleasure of Loki--his need, his hunger, his possession. His feelings filled my emptiness. Chased away all the darkness.

I came back to myself a little when he reached his own peak, groaning hoarsely against my neck as the pleasure took him, spilling long, hot spurts of come at the mouth of my womb.

Afterward he drew me into the curve of his body and held me there like something precious. I remember feeling a moment of regret because I’d told him I hated him. Because I’d been ashamed to take what he offered me. 

And while I lay there listening to his breath and the pulse of his heartbeat, I tried to sort through the things I'd felt...the knowledge that had come with his thoughts, his feelings.

Loki knew loneliness and isolation better than I ever could. He had been alone for a very long time. Much longer than one thousand one hundred and sixteen days. Much longer even than twenty-four years.

Maybe that was why he could hear me calling–why he’d taken me from that lonely rooftop.

Not to make me his slave, but to fill the emptiness--to chase away the isolation.

He needed me. To hold the creeping madness at bay. To make him feel alive in a devestated, dying world--a world his own folley had devestated.

He felt guilty about that. I had felt his regret--caught a whisper of the torment he felt, knowing that he'd brought this destruction down on Earth himself. 

He hadn't meant to. Someone had betrayed him. And now he was stranded here, alone. 

Alone, alone, alone.

My eyes burned with tears, feeling his pain. His pain that mirrored my own. 

I drew him closer, there in his bed. Into my arms. Into my heart, too, though I didn't know it at the time.

I did know, however, that I belonged to him. In that moment, I wanted to. 

Because I understood, in that moment, that he belonged to me, too.


Chapter Text

That night Loki slept with his arms locked around me and his face tucked into my neck.

You might think it sweet, but the reality was eight hours of suffocating captivity. He'd never held me through the night before and I wasn't a particularly restful sleeper to begin with. I kept waking to the sensation of his breath on my neck and the steely weight of his arms, the pressure of his chest and belly. His cock tucked into my hip and his leg pinning mine to the mattress.

Each time I came-to on a sharp thrill of fear and arousal, then lay stiffly against him, heart pounding, terrified that he would wake, for some reason.

The room was always pitch black at night. Not even a ghost of light. Just blank, unrelieved blackness. I hated being awake alone in that kind of dark. It always made me think of those first few weeks after the outbreak--all the running and hiding. Being stalked in the night by people who had once loved me.

Part of me wanted him to wake, just to drive those memories away. The rest of me was horrified by the thought of what he might do to me in the darkness--and of how much I might like it.

The God of Blood and Mischief was terrifying enough when I could see him. Being at his mercy while effectively blind? I might finally go mad for real.

Of course, there was something comforting about it, all the same. The closeness. The tenderness of it. His heart beating slowly against me. His lips on my throat. His hair against my cheek.

I could almost imagine we were lovers instead of master and slave.


Well, at least I wasn't alone. After what I'd felt when he fed from me, the loneliness had truly fled.

In the morning I sat muzzily in the center of his bed, watching as he rose and stretched, feeling inside myself for that well of lonely feelings.


It was strange. I was as strange. I felt almost like a different person without that familiar weight on my heart.

Watching Loki's leanly muscled back, I felt a sudden flood of warm feelings fill the place where that loneliness had lived.

At that moment, Loki turned to look back at me, gaze dark, intent.

He crooked a long blue finger.

I blinked at him stupidly, still half asleep.

"Come here," he growled.

Heart jumping at his tone--and at the look in his eyes--I crawled across the mattress to him.

He pointed at the floor. I looked down. Even his feet were elegant. Long and narrow, marked by those curving lines.

"Heel," he said softly.

My gaze snapped to his face. "What?"

His red eyes narrowed dangerously.

Recognizing the threat in that look, I promptly scrambled over the edge of the bed and dropped to the floor, gritting my teeth against the urge to glare up at him as I knelt by his feet.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Come with me." Then he turned and strode across the room to the bath.

On hands and knees--and burning with angry humiliation--I scrambled to follow.

I'm here to tell you, it is not easy to crawl as fast as a six and half foot man walks, especially over hardwood floors. Even when he's not in a hurry.

By the time I made it to the bathroom door, my knees were already throbbing.

Loki flicked a hand at the big tub and crossed to the vanity without a backwards glance.

Apparently he wanted me to run him a bath.

I crawled over the hard tiles as slowly as I dared and knelt up to twist the taps.

"Not too hot," he said behind me, as water rushed into the enormous basin.

I turned the hot water tap down a bit and then turned to watch him brushing his teeth.

It still gave me a kick that he did this every day. You never think about vampires doing stuff like that. Brushing their teeth, washing their hair. Mundane things. Human things.

I kinda liked it, especially tasting his toothpaste on days when he kissed me after his morning ritual.

He'd never included me in it before, though. Usually I lay in the bed listening to this process--the tooth brushing, the shower. Sometimes I even caught a glimpse of him combing his long hair afterwards.

He had provided me with my own self-grooming things, too. Usually he sent me in to clean myself up after breakfast.

I wanted to brush my teeth now, on the off chance that he might kiss me. But I knew better than to just walk over there and do it, or even to ask.

It wasn't worth it to piss him off this early in the morning. He might take it upon himself to make me pay for it the whole damned day.

Loki glanced at me in the big mirror behind the sink, red eyes glinting with amusement.

"Come," he said, crooking that finger again.

I knew he wanted me to crawl, but it rankled. Plus, I could tell he'd been reading my mind, and I still hated that.

My hesitation made his eyes flash crimson fire.

"It hurts," I said defensively.

"How much do you think it will hurt when I bend you over this counter and paddle you with the hairbrush?" he snapped.

Fuming, I crawled across the floor to him.

When I reached his side he plucked my toothbrush from the shelf on the wall and handed it to me, then the toothpaste as well.

"Thank you," I grumbled.

He waited for me to squeeze some paste onto my brush and then held his hand out for the tube and replaced it on the shelf.

While I brushed my teeth he went to the tub and tested the water, then took a big glass bottle from the shelf and poured some milky fluid into the bath.

A familiar herbal scent filled the air. It was faint--I suppose because of his enhanced sense of smell--but still distinct. Bergamot and something else. Subtle and masculine.

His smell.

I hadn't realized until that moment, but he did always smell faintly of bergamot.

The scent aroused me. Plus he was still naked, and his cock was already half hard, despite the fact that he appeared to be ignoring me.

I watched him pour another bottle  into the water--this one turned the whole bath milky, opaque. Then he crossed to the cabinet on the opposite wall and pulled out two large green towels and a washcloth, which he set on the broad lip of the tub. Then returned to the shelf a third time and brought back two more unlabeled bottles--shampoo and conditioner, I could only assume--and a bar of soap.

The tub was nearly halfway full.

"Rinse," he said quietly, without looking at me.

I stood long enough to rinse the toothpaste from my mouth and my toothbrush, then set the brush back on the shelf and returned to my knees.

When I looked again, Loki was sitting on the edge of the big tub, watching me, crimson eyes hooded, swirling one hand in the bathwater.

He crooked his finger again and I crawled gingerly to him, aware that he watched my progression  with lazy pleasure.

"Up," he murmured when I came to a stop at his feet.

Obediently, I knelt up. Some of my temper had gone, watching him prepare the bath. The rest abandoned me when I saw that his cock was no longer half-hard. It stood up rigidly from his lap, round head suffused with color.

Loki looked at my breasts. Touched them with one hand while his other continued to swirl through the water. He hadn't healed me from yesterday and they both ached under his touch, bruised from his teeth.

"You've filled out since I found you," he murmured, watching his hand while he rolled my flesh in his palm and made my pulse lurch with pleasure. "Your breasts are exquisite."

Exquisite? I thought, a little dazed. He'd never complimented me before.

My heart did a funny little dance, realizing that he meant it. His fingers closed on my nipple and tugged just hard enough to make me gasp.

His expression of satisfaction made my face heat and my nipples tighten. A trickle of wet escaped down my inner thigh.

"In the tub," he said, letting go of my breast.

I blinked. "Huh?"

His expression creased with amusement. "You heard me."

I'm going to smell like him, I thought, with a giddy sort of confusion as I clambered over the porcelain lip and sunk into the water.

"You already smell like me, kitten," he rumbled. "Every inch of you."

Fuck, why did that embarrass me, of all things?

Loki chuckled and I ducked my head into the water to escape his eyes for just a moment. It was warm--very pleasantly so--but not hot.

I surfaced again as he came down into the tub beside me, then yelped in surprise when he pulled me into his lap, straddling his thighs. With both of us in the tub, the water came up to his chest.

"Wash me," he ordered languidly.

Trying to breathe evenly, I reached for the washcloth and the bar of soap. His gaze dipped to my chest. My breasts floated right at the water line and he seemed to find the sight highly entertaining.

He leaned back and tucked his hands behind his head, gaze shifting from my breasts to my face and back again as I began to wash his chest and shoulders.

I worked the cloth across his collarbones, under his arms, around his ribs, and then down below the water line. His belly flexed under my ministrations and although I tried, I couldn't quite avoid brushing against his cock as things progressed. For one, I couldn't actually see it with the water so milky. And for another, I was pretty sure he wanted me to wash it.

However,  I'd learned the hard way not to touch him without a direct invitation. Or, rather, an order.

I wanted to wash it though. Not because I thought it was dirty. Quite the contrary. Loki always smelled clean and delicious to me. I just wanted to touch the damned thing and feel his pulse between my hands.

"Go on," he murmured.

Relieved, I worked the washcloth around his groin, through his pubic hair and down. He widened his legs beneath me and I even ran the cloth very gently over and around his testicles.

"Kitten," he purred, lifting himself to my touch.

That rumbling endearment made me tingle all over with the desire to climb right onto his cock and ride him until I couldn't see straight.

Again, though, I knew better. He might let me do it, but there would be some kind of payment, in pain or in humiliation--or both.

When I finally wrapped the cloth around his cock he gave a little sigh and thrust gently into my grip. That was it though. After I'd stroked him a few times he said, "Now yourself," then watched with predatory interest as I washed my own body.

When I put the cloth between my legs he brought his arms from behind his head and cupped both breasts, squeezing hard enough to make me whimper.

"Bring yourself," he ordered softly.

"What?" I blurted, startled.

"To orgasm," he clarified. "Now."

I swallowed hard. This was new--and shocking. He'd never made me touch myself before. I was paralyzed by unexpected shyness.

"I can't," I whispered.

His eyes glowed with warning.

Pinned under that look, I made myself move the cloth between my legs. It was soft, but still a little too rough for such tender flesh. Face burning, I draped it over the edge of the tub and brought my bare hand back between my legs.

Loki's arms returned to their place behind his head and his gaze dropped to the water--to my breasts jiggling lightly at the surface as I began to stroke myself.

After a few minutes, face blazing, I was not one iota closer to orgasm.

Loki grunted impatiently. "Yesterday I made you come in mere seconds."

"Th-that was you," I said nervously.

He gave me another warning look, but his hand found mine under the water--my free hand--and wrapped it around his cock.

"Your pleasure arouses me," he growled. "If I have to make you come myself, you'll regret it."

This was as much leeway as he would give me--but it was enough. The sensation of his cock brought a hot surge of arousal, and his words even more so.

Your pleasure arouses me echoed loudly in my head, took my breath away. I could feel my clit swelling under my own fingers.

What it strange that the threat had aroused me too?

What the hell is happening to me? I wondered, as heat and pleasure began to gather between my legs.

Loki went back to watching my breasts, expression darkening I picked up speed and the water began to slosh gently around me.

"Why did I put that cream in the bath?" he muttered under his breath, looking down as though he might catch a glimpse of me touching myself. "Can't see a damned thing."

Hoping to ease his frustration, I pulled my shoulders back to bring my breasts above the waterline. His eyes flared, lips pulling back slightly from his teeth.

Shit. He's going to bite me.

I watched in slow motion--heart hammering in my chest--as he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into my right breast.

The orgasm struck me out of nowhere, piggybacking on the pain. It made me stiffen and jerk under his mouth, hoarse cry echoing against the walls, water sloshing all around us. My hand fisted tightly on his cock and he groaned around my breast, sucking hard, eyes closed, expression almost beatific.

He kept on sucking until my tremors subsided and then released my breast, pausing to lick away the last traces of blood from my nipple.

“Well done,” he murmured. “Now me.”

His cock was still painfully hard in my grip.

“With my hands?” I asked in a rasping, pleasure-drunk voice.

He gave me a dark look, red eyes hooded dangerously. “Would you prefer to use your mouth?”

My heart leaped with fear. “I can't hold my breath that long.”

His mouth curved wickedly. Under the water, his hands slid slow up my thighs. “Do you think I'd let you drown?”

Oh, god, he's going to make me do it. The thought paralyzed me.

He chuckled. “You shouldn't look at me with such fear. It makes me want to torment you.”

Before I could summon a response, he pushed me off his lap and lifted himself onto the edge of the tub, legs open. “Come and please me, kitten.”

My relief made me eager. I burrowed between his legs and took him gratefully into my mouth, tasting soap and bergamot and whatever milky fluid it was he'd put in the bath.

He touched my hair--stroked his fingers through it tenderly while I sucked him. After a while, he took hold and pushed my head down until I choked a little. Pulled back and then did it again, slowly, reminding me to relax my throat.

It took enormous focus to obey. Each time the head of his cock hit my tonsils, he made a low sound of pleasure and held me there, purring Relax, and Breathe.

After a while, my gag reflex subsided and he murmured Hold your breath--and then pushed even deeper.

The head of his cock clicked past my tonsils and bumped the back of my throat.

I tensed in shock, tried instinctively to withdraw. I couldn't breathe at all--his cock blocked my airway.

Loki held me in place woth an iron grip and growled Relax again.

Eyes watering, I struggled to obey.

When he let me withdraw I gasped and coughed, wiping away long strings of spittle.

“Again,” he murmured, pulling me right back down.

Somewhere around the fifth or sixth time, the sense of panic subsided and my throat relaxed around him. I braced my hands on his inner thighs and surrendered to it fully, let him move my head as he pleased, remembering what he'd said only minutes earlier.

Do you think I'd let you drown?

My surrender made him groan and purr in wordless satisfaction. He rocked himself slowly back and forth past my tonsils, pausing periodically to let me breathe, until the muscles in his thighs grew tense under my hands, belly flexing with impending orgasm.

“Suck,” he rasped, withdrawing enough that I could latch on to the head.

Eyes closed, buzzing all over with arousal, I sucked him hard and fast, until he groaned deeply and began to spurt against my tongue.

The sounds and sensations of his pleasure made me feel almost frenzied. Fear and discomfort forgotten, I pushed closer and took him straight to the back of my throat, holding my breath and swallowing hard around his pulsing length.

He made a sound I'd never heard before--a low, raspy bark of pleasure--and cradled my head with both hands.

When his spasms subsided he released me and I sat back in the water to look up at him, wiping the saliva from my mouth and swallowing the last of his come.

He gazed down at me with his eyes so heavily hooded they were nothing more than red slits, glowing with satisfaction.

That look made me quiver--literally, quiver--with excitement. I’d only see in it a couple times, but I knew what it meant.

I'd pleased him, and he was going to reward me.

Loki's rewards--rare as they were--always left me in a state of boneless intoxication.

He slid down into the water and gathered me into his lap again, turning me so my back rested against the front of his body.

Then he placed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss on my neck and reached for the shampoo bottle.

Twenty minutes later, after a slow, thorough scalp massage and careful rinsing, I lay completely relaxed, eyes closed, leaning into him with my head resting on his shoulder.  

He didn't even bother to make me lift my head while he worked the conditioner into my hair. He lifted it himself and then set it gently against his shoulder again when he was done.

Then he slid his hands down over my breasts, pausing for a sensuous squeeze before continuing over my belly and down between my legs. In the wake of that caress I felt the cool tingle of his magic and knew that he'd healed me.

He stroked me lazily for a little while, fingers circling my clit, dipping inside me. But there was no intent behind it--besides perhaps to arouse me further. Or maybe just because he enjoyed the sensation.

After a few minutes he rinsed my hair again and then gestured for me to get out.

“Dry yourself and wait for me in bed,” was all he said.  

Disappointed, I wrapped myself in one of the big towels and left him there in the tub with his black curls trailing through the water around his shoulders.

I wanted to wash his hair as well. Even more, I'd expected him to fuck me.

Of course, he would fuck me at some point today-- multiple times--but I was still wildly aroused from sucking him, and from his lazy caresses in the bath afterwards. My pussy felt positively swollen, and I ached to have him inside me again.

But the hair washing had been...I still felt warm and loose from the pleasure of his fingers against my scalp, his unexpected care.

He'd never tended to me like that before. Never kissed my neck so tenderly either, nor made me feel so...cherished. Usually his rewards involved orgasms. Mine, specifically.

I wished he would fuck me with that kind of tenderness. Just the thought made me shiver and flush. Loki, holding me, kissing me, making love to me.

It was nonsense, of course. I wasn't his lover. And whatever tenderness he felt for me was based upon possession. He called me “pet” and “kitten” a dozen times a day, for fuck's sake.

I'd best not be getting ideas in my head about being treated like his woman rather than his plaything.

Anyway, the bastard delighted in tormenting me, I reminded myself.  Just yesterday I'd been convinced I hated him.

But right now… right now what I wanted more than anything was to have his long, azure body wrapped around me like vise, fucking me senseless.

Jesus. Is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like?

I pushed the thought away, dried myself carefully, and climbed onto the bed, still working my hair with the towel.

My breakfast sat on the table near the fireplace. A servant had brought the tray in while we were bathing, apparently. I could smell the eggs and toast, plus more ham--fried this time. My stomach rumbled loudly.

Loki liked to watch me eat though. He would be pissed if I started without permission.

The God of Mischief emerged a few minutes later, naked and damp, with a towel draped over his head.

He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to me and began to dry his hair. After a moment he tossed the towel onto the floor and sprawled against the pillows with a sigh, damp curls leaving wet blossoms on the satin pillow cases.

His red gaze rolled to me. “Go get your breakfast.”

I slipped over him and padded to the table.

“Bring it here,” he said, when I pulled back a chair to sit.

Obediently, I lifted the tray and carried to him, careful not to spill the tall glass of orange juice and the pitcher of water.

He took it from me and set it across his thighs, then waited for me to climb over his feet and settle beside him with my legs crossed Indian-style.

Then he plucked a slice of toast from the tray, buttered it thoroughly, and held it out to me.

He'd fed me before, of course--in a controlling, erotic way--but never in this relaxed, companionable manner. The way he watched me bite into the toast made my heart flutter a little. There was only a hint of sex in that look--and a whole lot of masculine satisfaction.

There was more food on the tray than usual, but he made me eat everything direvtly from his fingers, even though I protested I was full after consuming only two thirds of it.

“You're still too thin,” he said. “I want a little more flesh to hold on to when I'm fucking you.”

I ate the rest without further complaint.

He took the tray back to the table himself and ordered me to lie down. Then he went to the big walk-in closet and I heard him rustling around in there for a few minutes.

Much to my dismay, he came out fully dressed in black leather pants and a black dress shirt. No shoes though.

“Where are you going?” I blurted.

He gave me an amused look, one brow raised.

Loki hadn't dressed or left the room but once in the week that I'd been here--I assumed it was to feed, as he hadn't drunk from me until last night. What reason could he have to leave now?

It occurred to me then that the last time he left, I'd been relieved. Right now I felt...slightly panicked.

Oh, how things change.

I didn't want to be alone. And my body still thrummed with unsatisfied desire. He hadn't even fucked me yet!

“We're going to have a game today,” he said, fussing with his cuffs.

A game? Lessons, we had done. Punishments, too.  But no games.

“What kind of game?” I asked warily.

He flashed me a terribly charming, boyish grin. “You'll have to wait and see.”

I watched him turn towards the door, heart squeezing with anxiety and denial. I bit my lips to keep from blurting Don't go like some infatuated romance novel character.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back. “Something you'd like to say to me, kitten?” he purred.

Ugh, there was that familiar smugness.

“No,” I said immediately, hackles rising. Stop reading my mind, you dick!

His eyes narrowed, glittering with amusement. But all he said was, “Pity.” Then he opened the door and stepped into the hall.

“Wait,” I blurted. The word just seemed to slip out, much to my chagrin.

He stopped, looked back again. Drawled, “Yes?”

Heart pounding, I licked my lips. Swallowed the words I really wanted to say--along with the sudden excess of saliva in my mouth.

“How long will you be gone?”

His smugness only intensified. “As long as I please, pet.”

The tone made me cringe a little and flush angrily. I couldn't quite stop myself from glaring at him--though I was half terrified he would decide to punish me for it.

“Unless you can offer me some enticing reason to stay?” he added archly.

Stubbornly, I shook my head.

“Well then, enjoy the wait,” he purred, and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Text


He was gone for hours, though I couldn't be sure just how many, as there wasn't a single clock in his room. 

I asked him about that once and he said, "There world has ended. What use is there for time?"

Well, time still seemed to be passing--with excruciating slowness. 

All I could do in the interim was think about him

One week in his care--in his possession--and I could hardly function without him. The ache of his absence burned me.

This is twisted, I thought. What the fuck is wrong with me?

But there was no heat behind the thought. No real emotion, besides a gentle sort of confusion. This was my life now: satin sheets and sexual torment. Submission and domination. 


But I'm safe, I reminded myself. And well fed.

These rationalizations felt hollow, too, however. Perfunctory. The pleasure of Loki's possession loomed large in my consciousness. I could still feel him holding me through the night. Cradling me in the tub. Touching my breasts with almost worshipful appreciation. 

His presence was always oppressive. Terrifying. And somewhere along the line it had become comforting. How was that even possible?

I hadn't thought of escape since that first day, even during the worst of his punishments. Even when I hated him. He terrorized me--and made me feel alive. Humiliated me and then drowned me in pleasure. 

The realization came quietly, but with undeniable finality. 

I wanted to be here. 

My head began to spin. 

His whispered thoughts came back to me, along with the memory of his feelings as he'd fed from me.

My pet. My treasure

And then, inexplicably, I remembered my panic as he'd fucked my throat in the bathtub. The feeling of suffocation--and then my surrender and the unrestrained pleasure it had brought us both. 

Do you think I'd let you drown?

I trusted him. It was insane--utterly bonkers--but I trusted Loki. Sometime between last night and this moment, I'd fully surrendered to my situation. 

It should have horrified me. Instead all I felt was...relief. 

No, not just relief. That blossoming warmth from this morning came back. 

It's affection, I realized. Affection for Loki. 

My savior. My master. My tormentor.


My body produced a slow, throbbing rush of arousal--of need. Desire. 

Suddenly, my longing for his return was redoubled. I wanted him back so I could please him again. Show him my gratitude. Make him feel good. I'd crawl at his feet all day if it meant he would touch me, hold me, kiss me. Even punish me. 

I don't care if it's Stockholm syndrome, I thought. I want this. 

I want him.

... ... ...

By the time I heard the door click open, I was hungry again. 

I sat bolt upright in the bed, heart pounding with excitement--and then blinked stupidly at the servant who entered with a tray of sandwiches. 

My heart dropped. 

The servant--a guy about my age with longish chocolate hair and heavily-lashed hazel eyes--smiled hesitantly when he saw me. 

"Hi," he said, standing in the open doorway.

None of the servants had ever spoken to me before. Then again, I'd never been alone with any of them. 

"Hi," I said. 

His gaze flicked down and then up, rather awkwardly, and I realized with a flush of embarrassment that he was trying not to stare at my breasts. 

I'd gotten so used to being naked, I didn't even really notice it anymore. 

"Sorry," I mumbled, pulling the sheet up over my chest. 

His mouth curved in a polite, tight-lipped smile. "Don't be." He stepped into the room and took the tray to the table, adding, “Nudity is pretty normal around here, there just aren't many women on the compound. Even fewer young and pretty ones.” He turned and gave me a self deprecating look. “It's been a while since I saw one naked is all.”

What the hell do I say to that? "Uh...thanks?" 

He introduced himself as Peter and then tilted his head at the tray of food. "Hope you're hungry. Loki told me to tell you to eat everything on the tray."

I nodded and then looked down at the sheet, feeling oddly anxious.

"Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked gently, apparently sensing my discomfort. 

"Uh--actually, can I…” I started nervously. “Can I ask you some questions?”

The reluctance on his face was unmistakable. “Whatever I tell you, he'll know. It might make him angry. It's best you ask him yourself.”

“I was just said ‘compound’ earlier. How many people are there here?”

Peter hesitated, seemed to consider the wisdom of answering, and finally said, “Almost a hundred.”

A hundred? I just stared at him, mind reeling. 

Had Loki rescued them all?

Peter was watching me closely. "He hasn't told you anything, has he?"

Numbly, I shook my head.

"'s the honeymoon period, you know. He'll let you out eventually," he said, obviously taking pity on me. “And he'll tell you more if you ask him.”

There was pause and he looked at me expectantly. I realized I should say something, but there were so many words crowding my head, none of them could get out. The silence stretched painfully. 

"Sorry," I blurted, for the second time. "This is...weird for me."

He smiled that polite smile again, though it was a little warmer this time. "Don't worry about it. Loki mentioned you were alone for a long time out there. How long has it been since you had a normal conversation?"

Loki talked to the servants about me? "Three years, give or take."

Compassion flashed in his eyes. "It gets easier."

Something occurred to me then. “How long have you been here?” 

“Since just after the outbreak. I was one of his first.”

“His first…?”

“Rescues,” Peter supplied. 

So, Loki had been rescuing humans. But why?

But I knew, of course. 

He's lonely. Like I am. Was

I couldn't help it, I looked at the collar around Peter's neck--the collar that all of Loki's servants wore--identical to mine. 

Were they all his slaves? His playthings?

“He doesn't make us all play the pet,” Peter murmured, reading my face with uncanny accuracy. “Only the ones who want to.”

I could feel my cheeks heating, but for some reason I needed to know--to hear it from his mouth. “Do you--I mean, are you still--?” I couldn't make myself say the words. 

“Only sometimes,” he replied, unabashed. “But not since you arrived. Mostly it's just for blood, though.”

Loki had already told me he fucked and fed from his other servants, of course. But for some reason it was still hard to hear.

“I have to go,” Peter said gently--apologetically. “Loki should be back soon.”

I nodded again, swallowed a barrage of other questions. “Thank you.”

He smiled, and for the first time it was a real, honest smile. A kind smile.“You're going to be okay, you know? He can be cruel sometimes, but he looks after all of us.”

I forced myself to smile in return. “Yeah. Thanks.”

... ... ...

I ate all the food without tasting it, mind racing, trying to put together all the pieces of this strange world Loki had built. 

Nearly a hundred people. There was basically a small town out there. 

Loki had let me believe it was just us--just him and me--and a few servants.  

For some reason, I kept hearing Peter say He doesn't make us all play the pet. Only the ones who want to. Over and over. 

Only the ones who want to. 

Loki had said pretty much the same thing the first time I asked him about his servants--that they submitted to servitude willingly.

I had submitted willingly, too--but not because I wanted to be Loki's pet. I'd been alone so only other option had been more of that miserable isolation. 

And Loki had let me believe he would force me. Use his powers to make me submit. I still wondered sometimes if he'd been truthful when he insisted he hadn't. 

But then there was Peter saying Only the ones who want to, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. As though he had genuinely wanted to be Loki's pet. As though he still did. 

And not more than an hour ago, I believed I wanted it too.  

Now I didn't know what to believe at all. 

My body still clamored with eagerness at the thought of him: his body, his hands, his cock. His scent and taste. The sounds of his pleasure.

But I felt tricked. Utterly manipulated. Humiliated, too. 

I didn't even hear the door open. I was sitting on the bed with a book I'd taken from the shelf over the fireplace--a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. I'd been staring at the same page for at least half an hour when I suddenly had the urge to look up. 

Loki stood in the open doorway, leaning against the jam with his arms crossed over his chest. 

He said nothing. Just looked at me with a lazy, slightly amused expression.

"You were gone a long time," I said, emotions tumbling.

One of his eyebrows twitched. He stepped away from the jam and shut the door. My heart stuttered and sped as he crossed the room at a lazy stroll. 

He was still barefoot and dressed all in black. His skin seemed bluer than I remembered. Smoother. Impossibly beautiful.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, standing over me now. 

I stared up at him. "Yeah. Peter brought me lunch."

His expression darkened. "Peter?"

"Yeah." Like you didn't know.

His gaze was steady. Unnerving, as usual. The silence stretched.

The questions came back, bubbling in my throat. Would he really answer them?

His mouth curved slightly. One hand rose toward me. The backs of his long blue fingers slipped over my collarbone and slid slowly down, brushing the upper slope of my breast. 

My heart started pounding in earnest.

"Something on your mind, pet?" he murmured as his fingers slid lower and his gaze shifted to my chest. 

“Did you make me want this?" I demanded softly. The words came out low and tremulous. 

My breath caught as the backs of his fingers grazed my nipple. 

"I told you before,” he said with surprising calm, “Only that first time."

His gaze followed his hand as he trailed his knuckles across my chest to my other breast. My nipples tightened slowly.

“Did you rescue all those people?” I asked breathily. 

His gaze slid back to my face. “Peter told you.”

I nodded. “I asked him.”

Crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. “What else did you ask him?”

Uh-oh. “Not...not much.” 

His fingers closed gently on one distended nipple while his gaze held mine. “I can read your mind, kitten.”

I swallowed loudly. “I asked if you still slept with him.”

Some of the warning bled out of his eyes, but he said nothing. 

His fingers slowly rolled my flesh and little frissions of pleasure shot down into my belly. 

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I gathered my courage and blurted, “Why didn't you tell me how many others there were?” 

“Because I don't like to share,” he growled. 

“Loki--” I broke off on a whimper as his fingers clamped painfully on my nipple, but I forced my next question out anyway. 

“Are you going to k-keep me prisoner here forever?”

Crimson eyes flared with temper. He let go of my breast and glared down at me. “You chose this."

“You made me believe you would force me!” I cried, anger surging. “And you didn't tell me there was a whole compound with other humans, either. You could have given me the choice to be with them!”

Again, his eyes narrowed, but the look was guarded, impenetrable. 

Finally he said, “They're my subjects. You are my pet. I owe you no explanation.”

Bullshit!” I cried, fear and pleasure totally forgotten. “You want me to be a willing participant, or you wouldn't have given me the choice at all!”

As I said it, I realized how true it was. 

Red eyes gleamed down at me with unmistakable lust and possession--and anger. “You want this. You enjoy serving me. Don't deny it.”

He was right, of course. I slumped forward helplessly and put my face in my hands. This is so fucked up!

“You could let me go,” I said. 

“I could,” he admitted coldly. “But you don't want that. You want to be convinced to stay." 

His sureness rankled. 

"Do I?" The words were muffled into my hands, but I was pretty sure he could still hear the angry tremor in my voice. "You let me think I was choosing between sexual slavery and isolation. I would have agreed to anything just to escape that."

There was a short silence while I curled my hands into fists over my eyes and struggled not to cry.

"Get up," he ordered quietly. 

Startled by the words--and the unequivocal tone--I jerked my head up to look at him in outrage. "What?"

"We're going to play a game, " he said, expression steely as he reached out to wipe a tear off my cheek with his thumb. "You can decide afterward."

"Decide what? Why would I let you--" the words were cut off on a yelp when he grabbed my arm and hauled me up onto my feet. 

"I'm going to fuck you," he growled, ignoring my questions. "You've been aching for me all day."

"How would you know?" I countered hotly, trying to yank my arm out of his grip. "You haven't been here all day!"

He dragged me up against his chest and brought his nose down to mine, glaring dangerously. "I know because you were aching for it when I left you and you're still aching for it now."

Fucking bastard. His proximity and that velvety growl made me tense and flush, despite my jumbled emotions. 

"I can smell you, remember?" he said harshly. "You're wet, kitten."

"I have a name!" I snapped. "Not that you ever asked, you selfish prick!"

His eyes narrowed into glowing red slits. I thought for a second that he was going to hit me--I'd never seen him look so angry before. 

Instead he turned abruptly and hauled me across the room to the door. When he reached it, he spun me around, pinned me against the door, and took hold of my jaw with one hand, the other still locked around my upper arm. 

"I'm going to let you out of this room," he growled, glowering down at me. "And you're going to run from me. When I catch you, I'm going to fuck you."

"That's not a game," I retorted, surprised by my own bravado. My heart was so loud in my ears I could hardly hear myself talking. "It's only a game if I have some chance of winning."

He grinned a slow, predatory grin, fangs flashing. "If you can keep away from me for thirty minutes, you win. I'll even give you a five minute head start."

Holy god. He wanted to hunt me. 

My body produced a near-painful rush of arousal. 

"What's the prize?" I demanded, determined not to show him my fear--which was stupid. He could probably smell it on me, even if he wasn't reading my mind. 

He licked his lips. "Whatever you want, so long as it doesn't require either of us leaving the tunnels."

Tunnels? I blinked. "Are we underground?"

"Yes, you idiot girl. Why do you think there are no windows?"

I shoved hard at his chest. "Don't call me an idiot!"

"Then don't act like one," he snapped, face very close to mine. 

I shoved him again, totally without effect. "Asshole! This game isn't even marginally fair."

"I'm giving you a headstart," he growled. "And I've had the servants wipe down all the floors with disinfectant so I won't be able to smell you," he crowded closer, until I could feel his erection against my belly. "But since you're so adamant, I'll sweeten the deal."

I swallowed hard and willed myself to breathe normally. Am I really going to let this happen? "How?"

His gaze went so dark it actually made my stomach drop like I was going over a big fall on a rollercoaster. 

"If I haven't come inside you by the time the thirty minutes are up, you win."

Suddenly my knees felt watery and my tongue very swollen. "I don't see how that helps me," I said shakily. 

Loki bent just enough to drag his tongue across my lips in quick, animal kiss. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to fuck a person by force without causing them any actual damage?" he asked darkly.

My breath left me on a deep, primal shudder. "You want me to fight you?"

"Like your life depends on it," he purred, releasing me at last.

I rubbed my arm where he'd gripped me. "And what do I have to give you if you win?" 

His eyes became hooded. "Another day."

I blinked. "A day? What do you you--?"

"As my pet," he said. "I want your submission for one full day. No questions. No resistance." 

Wait, what is he saying? 

"Does that mean--?” My heart leapt and then fell again. “After the day is up, you'll let me go?"

"If that's what you want." His tone and the edge of smugness in his expression told me he felt pretty confident I would stay. 

It occurred to me that maybe he meant to use his day to convince me to stay--to convince me I still wanted to be his pet. 

Probably by subjecting me to hours and hours of delicious sexual torture.

I swallowed hard at the thought.

Maybe he was right before when he said I wanted him to convince me. Because another day didn't seem like such a tall order. In fact, it sounded...good. 

Terrifyingly good.

And afterwards, I could walk away. Be free again. 

If I wanted to. 

"Okay," I said shakily. "Deal."

Loki's smile sent a cold shiver up my spine and made my nipples tighten. 

"Excellent," he purred. "Our game begins now."


Chapter Text

Loki stood behind me in the doorway and gave me a brief but detailed summary of the layout of the tunnels. Then he shoved me out the door and growled, "I've sent all the servants upstairs for the day. Your five minutes starts now."

The door thumped shut behind me.

Heart hammering, I looked down each of the three "tunnels" leading away from Loki's room. They didn't look like tunnels--they looked like normal hallways, though the lights were very dim and the walls looked like cement.

The left and right tunnels both turned about ten yards back. The center tunnel extended straight to a wide set of stairs leading up to the exit, which Loki had pointedly told me was locked from the outside.

Clearly, he wasn't as confident about me wanting to stay as he pretended to be.

I took the right tunnel, which led around to the kitchens and then the formal dining room--what kind of underground lair has a formal dining room?--trying to come up with some kind of strategy. Should I find a good hiding place and hope he didn't find me? I couldn't just run around continuously. His hearing was too acute, and although I was in decent shape from trekking all over Manhattan the last three years, I was pretty sure he could run a lot faster than me.

Already panting with anxiety, I rounded the corner that would take me to the kitchens, passing several closed doorways as I went.

The place did smell slightly of disinfectant, which was good. If I found a proper hiding place, he wouldn't be able to sniff me out. Then again, I really didn't want to corner myself somewhere. If I was going to hide, my hidey hole needed at least two escape routes.

I found the kitchen and rounded it once--big room, huge gas range, long marble counter in the center--and peeked into the enormous pantry, wondering briefly why Loki needed so much food when I'd never seen him eat.

Some of his servants must live down here, I realized, turning away and slipping back into the hall through a different door. That explained all the extra rooms dotting the hallways, many of which were locked.

I managed to make a full round of the place within a minute or two, jogging most of the way, pausing here and there to check different rooms and mentally noting a few viable hiding places as I went.

I finally circled back to the kitchen and tucked myself into one of the cabinets beneath the counter. They opened on both sides and the counter was so long, I figured it would give a me few seconds to reach the exit before Loki got around it. And since there was an exit on both ends of the room, I had a straight shot out no matter which side he came from.

I had just shoved aside some big copper pots and settled inside when all the lights shut off.

Everything went black. Full, unmitigated, pitch black.

No, no, no! That bastard!

He meant to stalk me in the dark!

My heart began to race with something rapidly approaching panic. Memories of being stalked in the dark over the last few years came back to me.

My ears started picking up sounds that couldn't possibly be there--the hiss of clothing, the shuffle of quiet footsteps. The low, growling breath of something that had once been human.

Calm down, dammit! The only vampire down here is Loki!

My breath rasped so loud in the small space that I couldn't possibly be hearing anything else anyway.

I hugged my legs and forced myself to take slow, deep breaths, ears ringing with the effort to hear over my own sounds.

Even once I'd managed to quiet my breathing, my heart was so loud I wondered if Loki would be able to hear it too.

And then I remembered.

He can read my mind!


If he came into the kitchen he would be able to hear my thoughts. Hell, he might even be able to hear me from the hall outside. Maybe he was listening to me right now.

Shit! Why did I agree to this? The whole thing was designed expressly for my failure.

I remembered him saying And when I catch you I'm going to fuck you, and electric currents of arousal shocked my system, tangling with my fear until I felt lit up like a Christmas tree.

Clearly, my logic had been clouded.

He knew, I thought wildly. He knew how terrified I would be in the dark. He must have heard me thinking of it.

And he's going to hear you thinking right now if you don't find a way to shut yourself up!

Okay. Okay, calming thoughts. Clear your mind!

I'd tried meditation years ago, in another life. I had a lot of anxiety during college; racing thoughts that wouldn't let me sleep. Thinking back on the worries that had plagued me then, a hysterical laugh rose in the back of my throat.

I swallowed it down and wrestled my mind into order.

Deep breaths. Clear your mind.

Deep breaths. Clear your mind.

Deep breaths...deep breaths...

I have no idea how long I sat there forcefully regulating my breathing and imagining every thought washed away, but at some point I dropped into a drifting state of calm unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. Later I would understand that my success had been driven by sheer survival instinct.

My heart slowed. Time seemed to stop. I was distantly aware of the dry, musty smell of the cabinet and the smooth wood under my bare buttocks. The air was slightly cool and very still.

I didn't hear him come into the kitchen. There was nothing to alert me to his presence but a sudden tickle of intuition. I opened my eyes wide in the dark, calm faltering, and quickly shut them again, trying to return to that thoughtless space.

His voice reached me then, so deep and soft it was nearly inaudible.


On a burst of adrenaline so intense it seemed to singe my nervous system, I launched from the cabinet and darted straight for the door.

But I couldn't actually see the door--I ran with my hands extended befor me, trying to remember it's exact position--and slammed into the jam before careening out into the hallway, shoulder screaming from the impact.

Blind and panicked--utterly disoriented by the impenetrable blackness--I made it two steps further before Loki hit me from behind and took me straight to the floor.

With my body in full blown survival mode, the fight instinct came fast and hard.

I twisted onto my back as he took hold of me, kicked and screamed, struck out at him in the darkness with everything I had. My hands and feet contacted smooth, naked flesh--his chest and belly. Iron strong hands closed around my forearms. One of my flailing feet connected with a hard, muscular thigh.

We struggled there on the floor for a few seconds more before he pinned my wrists above my head and managed to mount me, driving his hips between my legs.

The head of his cock poked my inner thigh and then slipped wetly between the folds of my sex as I tucked my legs up and shoved my knees against his torso, fighting to keep him out. Trouble was, I couldn't see him--couldn't anticipate or even counter his movements properly. And he was so strong. He simply knocked my legs aside with his free hand and folded me back, holding my right thigh to my chest.

I yanked at his grip around my wrists with all my might--to no avail. He gave not an inch, and I felt the tip of his cock notch my entrance.

Loki grunted in triumph, driving home in a single violent surge.

I cried out, though it didn't hurt. I was so wet the penetration met with no resistance. In fact, my body seemed to suck him directly in. Still, his length felt impossibly big, stretching me, touching so deep inside me that I felt skewered.

His growl of pleasure rolled up my spine like a physical caress and his cock felt so good I actually froze for a few seconds under the cascade of pleasure his first few thrusts produced.

He let go of my wrists and I felt his hands on my hips, holding me still for his thrusts.

Abrubtly, the fight kicked in once more. I pushed at his chest, his shoulders, using my nails--clawing at him when I realized I couldn't push him off. My nails seemed to glance right off his skin without causing any damage.

Loki just growled in the darkness and rode me harder.  

Then I felt him shift back and I brought my legs up to try and kick him off again. The heel of my right foot made contact with something very hard--his shoulder, most likely--and his grip on me loosened.

I guess I took him by surprise. By some miracle, I managed to get out from under him and scramble away a few feet before he was on me again.

This time he took hold of my hips and growled like an animal as he dragged me under him. I felt his cock nudging my ass and bucked with everything I had, throwing elbows and screeching through my teeth. He grunted once and jammed his arm against my back, pinned my upper body to the cold stone floor, and mounted me a second time.  

One thought ran over and over in my mind as I twisted and fought: I just had to keep him from getting inside--if he couldn't get inside, he couldn't win.

He did get inside again, of course, only seconds later. He managed half a dozen snapping thrusts before I somehow bucked him off.

His growl deepened so much that the fine hairs all over my body stood on end. An instant later he came down over me in the dark like blanket. A heavy, suffocating, impossibly strong blanket.

He had me pressed flat in a flash, legs between mine, spreading me open wide. Then he lifted himself with one hand in the center of my back and the other clamped onto my hip. With his full weight pinning me flat, I couldn't do more than sob in wordless frustration and reach back to claw helplessly at his flanks.

This time, when his cock jammed inside me, it brought the crackle of impending orgasm.

I knew I was beat, but I moaned and struggled under his thrusts anyway, body jolting, hips grinding painfully against the floor as he rode me.

It was good--my God it was good! Every thrust deep and utterly deliberate. His cock seemed to touch every nerve inside me, lashing me with pleasure.

He made a hoarse, strangled sound when I climaxed and his thrusts sped with unmistakable urgency.

He's gonna  c ome,  I thought distantly, orgasm vibrating my whole body like a tuning fork. I lost, I lost!

I felt his chest come up against my back and wet heat on the side of my neck--then the sharp pain of his bite.

His pleasure flooded me as he drank. I came again in a white hot rush under the tumble of his erotic thoughts.

I could actually feel it--Loki, me--the incredible wet heat of my own pussy sucking at him. The pleasure burning in his cock, intensifying with every thrust.

His thoughts were wordless--a barrage of erotic sensations and primal feelings: incredible lust, lighting-hot pleasure. A crisp, vibrating awareness of how wet I was--wetter than I'd ever been before--and how tight. A deep, animal appreciation of the sounds I made and the sensation of my body under him.

And something else, too. Emotion--swelling elation, underscored deeply by posession.

I felt his orgasm as though it were my own. Felt my pussy fill with the first spurts of his come--felt him thrusting into that wetness--and climaxed a third time alongside him.

I heard myself keening distantly as his finishing thrusts battered me against the floor. And just as he groaned with the final pulse of his orgasm--mouth still sealed to my neck--I lost consciousness.

... ... ...

He brought me back seconds later with one of his healing spells.

I opened my eyes to that awful blackness just as the tingle of his magic receded.

"Loki?" It came out hoarse and nearly voiceless.

"Hush," was all he said. He was breathless. Me, too. Heart still pounding. Nerves tingling wildly.

He scooped me up and carried me back to the bedroom.

The sudden light, though dim, stabbed my eyes and made me groan. I turned my face into his shoulder.

"Alright," he murmured, as though I'd made a request. Behind my eyelids, I saw the light recede.

When I opened again the room was pleasantly dark and Loki was depositing me gently on the bed.

"Stay there," he ordered, face stern.

He went out again and came back a few minutes later with a tray of food and a pitcher of orange juice.

"I'm not hungry," I rasped. My skin felt prickly and my head swam. I just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"You'll eat," he said implacably, settling beside me. "Sit up."

My limbs were heavy and uncooperative, my thoughts muzzy. Finally Loki reached over and lifted me against the headboard, then stuffed some pillows behind me.

"What happened?" I mumbled, watching him fold several pieces of meat into a slice of bread.

"I fed from you," he answered shortly. "You're suffering from blood loss."

"Oh. Is that why I'm so dizzy?"

He nodded, then put the food in my hand and said, "Eat."

"Can I have some water?" I asked, as he tipped the pitcher of orange juice into an empty glass.

"After you drink the juice," he said.

I made myself eat and drink. Loki went and got me some water and then watched intently as I drank it down.

"I feel better," I said, because I could sense his concern, though his face was characteristically blank.

He took the tray away and ordered me to lie down. I nestled happily into the blankets, too exhausted to think of anything but the pleasure of the satin sheets and Loki's scent all around me.

Just when I would have dropped off to sleep, a dull throbbing pain made itself known to me.

"My shoulder hurts," I mumbled.

Loki's weight shifted the mattress, and then he was there beside me, peeling the blankets back and touching the place where my shoulder had struck the door jam. More healing magic spilled from his fingers.

I sighed with relief as the pain bled away. "Thank you."

He slipped closer and drew me carefully against his body with both arms. "You're welcome."

I burrowed closer, wanting to feel the length of him against me. The touch of his chest and belly made me sigh happily again, though my head had begun to ache.

"Why did you take so much blood?" I asked drowzily, more than a little drunk on all his care and attention.

"You taste good," he replied flatly.

The clipped tone seemed at odds with the words.

"Are you angry?" I asked.

He just grunted, "Go to sleep."

I didn't really want to, though. I wanted to enjoy his cuddling and the rumble of his voice against my breasts. "It wasn't a fair game, Loki."

He made a sound--a quick exhalation that might have been a sigh or a laugh. "Of course it wasn't."

"You didn't tell me about the lights. That was mean."

"I wanted you running scared," he said, like that explained everything.

"You cheated, though."

He did sigh then. "And yet, you won."

"Wait what?" I tried to sit up and he pulled me back down. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," he growled. "Now will you just go to sleep, woman."

I slapped his chest once and then giggled with triumph. I hadn't laughed in--well, I bet you can guess how long. It felt good.

"How long did I hold out?" I asked.

With another martyred sigh, he held up one hand. A digital wristwatch appeared between his fingers in a little flash of green light.

"I thought you had no use for time."

He gave me an unamused look. "I borrowed it from one of the servants."

Smiling, I plucked the device from his hand and read the unmoving numbers on its face.


"Thirty two minutes!" I exclaimed.

"Nearly thirty three," he corrected, with a hint of resentment. "I underestimated you."

I giggled again as he took the watch away, then burrowed closer to him. "I found a good hiding spot."

He grunted, watch disapearing from his hand in another flash of light. "You shielded your thoughts bery skillfully. I came into the kitchen twice before I finally found you."

He didn't sound happy about it.

"Sore loser?" I asked, then giggled again at his warning growl.

I kissed his chest as a gesture of good will and his arms tightened around me.

"You are delirious with blood loss," he said repressively. "Now, sleep."

I did feel rather giddy. "I want to talk about my reward, though."

"Tomorrow," he said brusquely.

"Nuh-uh. You might try to weasel out of it."

"I beg your pardon?" he said, voice dripping offence.

"You'll probably say something about how I was delirious from blood loss and I'm remembering it wrong, or something."

"Allmother save me," he muttered under his breath. And then at normal volume, "I will do no such thing, and you insult me by suggesting it."

"I want a day," I declared.

He stilled against me. "A day... of what?"

"You. But not regular you. Normal you."

There was a breif pause.

"By the fates, are you concussed?" he said. "You sound like an imbecile."

I ignored that. "I just want you to be normal. Like, no ordering me around and acting like you own me."

His silence made me a little nervous.

"You did say anything I want," I reminded him. "So long as it doesn't involve us leaving."

"I did say that," he agreed in a curiously flat voice.

"Don't try to back out now," I warned.

He growled, low and angry. "Will you stop insulting me by suggesting that I will go back on my word?"

What I said next was out of my mouth before I had a chance to think it through.

"Don't act so high and mighty. You lied to me--miseld and manipulated me--to get me to agree to be your sextoy. You don't get to pretend you're all honorable now."

Loki was silent for what felt like a long time. My heart beat a little faster, despite the strange, half-giddy state of my mind.

"What exactly do you want me to do during this 'normal' day?" he asked finally, a little stiffly.

My heart sped with excitement. "Normal things," I said. "Like talking to me. And just generally being nice."

"Being nice," he repeated blankly.

"Mm-hm. Treating me like an equal. Asking instead of ordering. Not making me craw or grovel. And no punishments." I paused, but he said nothing. "Also, I have a lot of questions that need answering."

Still, he was silent.

"That's not so hard, is it?" I asked quietly.

"You want me to be other than I am."

My heart fell sharply. "I just want to be treated like a person."

"You are a person to me," he said gruffly.

The words made my heart flutter a little. "But you treat me like a pet," I said quietly. "That was okay when I thought it was my only choice besides dying alone."

"You were made for this, kitten," he said with quiet frustration. "You love being my pet. You just haven't made peace with that yet."

I thought back to this morning and the things I'd felt before Peter came along and turned my world on end.

"I know," I admitted. "This morning I almost did. But would have been a lot easier if you had been honest from the start."

He growled softly. "Would it? Would you have given yourself to me if I was?"

Again, my heart fell. Suddenly, inexplicably, I felt the prickle of tears. "Probably not."

His arms tightened again. "You see?"

I did see.

"That doesn't excuse what you did, though," I whispered, throat tight.

"I need no excuse," he grated. "The world is in ruins and I am King of what remains. I take what I want from it."

He could have taken me without regard for my will--or even my pleasure. But he wanted more than a body. More than just blood and orgasms.

His words from yesterday came back to me.

You longed to have some joy in your life. Companionship, pleasure. I’ve given you that, haven’t I?

Loki longed for those same things, I knew. Our mutual longing had drawn him to me.

You needed me to push you towards submission and I did. Are you not happier now?

My heart ached. A deep, resounding thrum--his pain and mine. I pressed my face into his chest .

I was happier now, despite everything. Would I be this happy living up on the compound, without him?

I didn't know. I couldn't know--not without leaving him.

Loki's arms tightened around me. His face tucked into my neck, breath warm and moist. "Stay," he whispered, temper gone. "You know everything now."

My heart squeezed. "Liar. I don't know anything about you."

He growled softly--a sound that conjured every look of lust he'd ever given me. Every touch. Every thrust of his cock. He was growing hard against me even now.

"You know everything that matters," he rasped, and behind those words, I heard more that he wouldn't say--or perhaps couldn't.

I want you. I need you.

Please, accept me.

But could I accept a man who would manipulate me into sexual servitude? A man who had fucked me and punished me for hours on end, regardless of any protest?

And even if I could forgive all that, could I also surrender indefinitely to a life of submission and domination, knowing I had another choice?

I slid my hands up his back and nuzzled his throat the way he'd nuzzled mine, kissing the little hollows just above his collar bones.

But I said nothing, in the end. I didn't have an answer.


Chapter Text

I slept like the dead. For the first time in ages, I didn't wake in the night even once, and I didn't dream.

I woke muzzy and sluggish. Loki had already risen. I could hear the shower running.

My breakfast tray sat on the bed where he'd lain. That was new.

Did he want me to eat without him?

Then I remembered. This was my day--my reward. No playing the pet. No master and slave.

I looked at the eggs and toast, the four strips of perfectly crisp bacon. The large glass of orange juice. My stomach rumbled, felt wrong to eat without those crimson eyes watching me.

I was free to do as I pleased today, yet my heartbeat sped at the thought of eating without him, as though my body anticipated his punishment despite the fact that my head knew there would be none.

He'd trained me well, dammit.

I forced myself to sit up and my head swam terribly. Abruptly, hunger turned into nausea. I slumped over, head in hands, and waited for it to pass.

Loki's voice reached me from the bathroom doorway, low and utterly without its usual cold authority.

“You'll have to rest today.”

I looked up--and froze in shock.

A very pale, very beautiful white-skinned man stood there with a towel in his hand, watching me with steady blue-green eyes.

I gaped at him like an idiot.

This was the man I remembered from the news three years ago--minus the armor and the horned helmet, of course.

This Loki was naked, and his hair hung in damp curls over his shoulders and down his chest.

His face was grave and strangely open.

“I thought I had retired this form for good,” he said quietly. “I hadn't expected to have any further use for it.”

“Why?” I croaked, voice rusty. I was still in shock--it was like looking at an entirely different person. Even his demeanor had changed.

Loki tossed the towel over a chair and came across the room to me, stopping just beside the bed. “When my brother abandoned me here, I gave up my Aesir identity and embraced my true self.”

I had no idea what he meant by that, so I just stared at him and waited for him to say more.

“How do you feel?” he asked, glancing at my untouched breakfast.

“Not great,” I replied, trying not to ogle all that smooth, white skin.

His gaze, slightly hooded now, returned to my face. I could see the desire to command me in his eyes, but he said, “You're still pale. You should eat.”

“I'm nauseous,” I replied faintly, heart fluttering.

His expression flickered with some unknown emotion. “I took far more blood than I should have,” he murmured. “You'll feel better when you've had some more protein and fluids.”

I picked up a piece of bacon and dutifully took a bite. The taste made my mouth water and brought the hunger back full force.

He stood there and watched me eat the whole piece and then turned to go to the closet.

Immediately, I wanted him back.

“What...what are you doing?” I asked hesitantly.

Loki disappeared inside, but his voice drifted back to me. “Getting dressed.”

“Why?” I blurted without thinking.

There was a pause and then he appeared in the closet doorway, one brow arched. “Would you prefer that I didn't?”

Shit. I flushed deeply. “I just wasn't expecting you to. Unless...are you leaving?”

“No,” he replied, amused. “But lying around naked all day isn't ‘normal,’ now is it?”

Smug bastard. “I guess not.”

His mouth curved. “I have something for you to wear as well, if you like. Though I certainly won't complain if you decline.”

I didn't particularly want to dress--I liked being naked with him--but I wasn't about to remain naked if he didn't.

“Fine,” I said, “As long as it isn't my old clothes.”

His smile widened and he turned away again, reappearing a minute later in a pair of black linen pants and a dark green cotton undershirt. There was a scrap of seafoam silk in his hand.

He came back to the bed and laid the little dress on the mattress beside my breakfast tray. “Whenever you're ready,” he purred, giving me a look that made my skin heat.

I set down the piece of toast I'd been eating and reached for the dress. Loki went to the sitting area and sprawled in one of the cushioned chairs to watch me pull the flimsy garment on over my head. It was a simple slip dress--hardly more than lingerie--but I could tell it fit perfectly, even without a mirror. The silk molded to my breasts and clung to my torso. The hem, which fell to mid-thigh, was decorated with delicate lace.

It was really pretty--I felt pretty wearing it--but I was still disappointed. About the clothes, and that he'd chosen sit so far away. Usually, he would get back into bed with me. Of course, getting back into bed always led to sex. Or sexual torture. But...maybe a ‘normal’ day precluded sex as well as nudity. Or maybe he wouldn't fuck me because of the blood loss.


“Perhaps when you're done with your breakfast you can tell me what else you had in mind for this ‘normal’ day,” he murmured.

Flushing again, I smoothed the silk over my hips and shot him a glare. “Could you maybe stop reading mind?”

He smiled. “Stop thinking so loudly.”


Loki chuckled. “You said you had some questions.”

I picked up the toast and said, “Yeah.”

Loki made an elegant Go on, then gesture with one hand.

“Well, tell me about this…” I looked him up and down pointedly. “...this form, as you called it.”

“What would you like to know?” he drawled.

“You said you gave it up and embraced your ‘true’ self.”

He nodded. “I am Jotun, but I was raised Aesir. This form is an illusion, of sorts, though I believed it was my true form for most of my life.”

Wow, that was a lot to process. “I know what Aesir means--you and that Thor guy are from some planet called Asgard, right? They talked about it on the news.”

Loki dipped his head in assent.

“What's Jotun mean?”

His lips thinned. “Jotun are the race of monsters I was born to. The Frost Giants of the planet Jotunheim.”

I blinked. “Monsters?”

“Mm. Merciless, violent creatures. They abandoned me. Left me to die as a babe.”

He said it very mildly, but the words made my heart shrink in my chest. “You consider yourself a monster?”

He slid me an amused look. “Do you not?”

I might have answered differently had he asked me a few days earlier, but after a moment’s thought, I said simply, “No.”

One of his brows twitched in surprise, but he said nothing.

“So, the blue skin and red eyes--that's what Frost Giants look like?”

He nodded. “Though generally, they are quite a bit larger. Hence the term ‘giant.’”

“How much larger?”

“Eight to ten feet, on average.”


He shrugged one shoulder, looking bored.

“So... why did you change back to this Aesir look?”

Thin pink lips compressed and his eyes narrowed with mild resentment. “You asked me to be normal. I thought his form might help me remember what that's like.”

Oh. “Well, I… appreciate the effort.”

Again, he gave me that mildly resentful look. “Do you prefer this form?”

I got the sense it was a more significant question than his tone made it seem.

“I don't know,” I said honestly. “I like them both.”

The white skin and blue-green eyes were certainly stunning--and not nearly as frightening--but I kinda missed all that velvety blue skin.

Loki's resentment seemed to dissipate, though his expression showed me nothing of what he felt otherwise.

“Were you born a vampire?” I asked.

His gaze slid away and his expression soured. “No.”

“How long have you been…?”

“Infected?” He gave me a flat look and then glared at the wall behind me. “Three years.”

Now that shocked me. When he volunteered no further information I asked tentatively, “Are you the one who infected everyone on Earth, then?”

“No,” he grated. “Thanos unleashed the virus. It was part of my punishment for failing him. To dwell here amongst the beasts. King of the ruins.” He met my gaze again, and his eyes were so cold I had to resist the urge to shrink away.

I wanted to ask Who the hell is Thanos? but that look froze my tongue in my mouth.

“I suppose I should be thanking him,” he said bitterly. “He set me free of my illusions. Allowed me to embrace the monster within. And he gave me my long-coveted kingdom.”

The acrid sarcasm confused me, made my heart ache for him. It also scared me a little.

“Your kingdom,” I started, hesitating when that icy gaze returned to me.

“What about it?”

I swallowed. “You’ve been rescuing the survivors. Keeping them safe here.”

His lip curled a little in derision. “Cattle.”

Shit. He'd shifted back to the cruel master persona. My heart--conditioned to respond to that cold demeanor--beat hard and fast in my chest.


What?” he growled. “You wanted to know the monster's story, don't expect the man to be the one who tells it.”

When I said nothing--just sat there paralyzed under his glare--the rage in his eyes dimmed and he looked away, muttering, “I didn't even know there was any of the man still left behind.”

“I'm sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?”

I didn't have an answer. I wasn't sure why I'd said it, except that I could see his suffering and it fucking hurt.

“Your pity is misplaced,” he said softly, dangerously. “I wanted to rule. I wanted war and I brought it here willingly. I murdered your whole world, little girl. How dare you pity me.”

“It's not pity,” I whispered, heart hammering.

“No?” he replied mockingly. “Is it compassion then? Do you want to comfort me? Heal me with your love?”

Every cell in my body screamed Don't say it! but I refused to cower from his cruelty. This was my day. I didn't have to submit to him right now--or ever again, for that matter.

“I don't love you, Loki.”

His expression faltered. The temper bled slowly from his eyes, his face. And then, to my utter astonishment, his gaze warmed and his mouth curved just a little.

“Touche, kitten.”

Relief made me release a big gust of breath and smile tremulously in return.

As he continued to look at me, the warmth in his eyes became heat and the smile fell away. “I want to fuck you in that dress,” he murmured. “Will you let me?”

The words brought a hot rush of excitement and elation, plus an electric tingle in low places. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded.

“Finish your breakfast, then,” he said.

I ate the rest of it without tasting and drained the glass of orange juice. Loki watched me intently the whole time.

When I set down the empty glass, he rose slowly and came back to the bed, took the tray and made it disappear between his hands, never taking his eyes off me.

“No biting,” I whispered, already breathless.

His eyes darkened. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Be gentle.”

His lips quirked. “You like it when I take you roughly.”

I couldn't deny that, so I just said, “I would like it if you were gentle sometimes, too.”

For whatever reason, that seemed to please him. He smiled slowly, then pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor.

This time, I let myself ogle him.

Jesus, his skin was unreal. It made me think of the descriptions of the heroines in trashy romance novels. Words like creamy and milky and porcelain came to mind.

The linen pants hung tantalizingly low on his narrow hips, and they were already tented in the front. A tumble of erotic urges filled me. I wanted to touch him, to pull his pants down and see that beautiful, curved appendage in creamy white and pink rather than azure. I wanted to lick the muscles of his belly and run my hands across his naked chest. But more than anything, I wanted to kiss him and feel his tongue in my mouth.

“No biting and be gentle,” he murmured while I took in that lean, white torso. “Is that it?”

I tilted my head back to look up at him. “Do you like kissing me?”

He gave me a funny look, like I'd surprised him. “Of course I do.”

“But not as much as I like it,” I said.

He frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“Some days you forget to kiss me at all. Like yesterday.”

His features softened with amusement and something else. Something that made my heart swell and my face get warm.

“I never forget to kiss you,” he murmured.

Which of course implied that he deliberately withheld kisses.

“Why?” I asked, knowing he was listening to my every thought.

“I have to hold something back,” he replied.

That doesn't make sense, I thought distantly, looking at the little wet spot forming where the tip of his cock pushed up at his waistband.

“Doesn't it?” he purred. “You like my kisses more because I withhold them.”

I tore my gaze away from his linen-cloaked erection and looked up at him. “That's...really fucked up, Loki.”

He smirked. “Maybe. It's also quite effective.”

“Effective for what?


I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep, calming breath. “Wow. Great. That really puts me in the mood.”

His chuckle made me start to see red, but then he said, “No training today.”

The red receded, though not completely. I glowered up at him. “Maybe never again, if you're not careful.”

He smiled, but his eyes had gone deadly serious. “Don’t expect me to let you go without a fight.”

I swallowed hard, anger and anxiety tangling inside me. “You said if I wanted to leave after today, I could.”

His gaze darkened. “I didn't say I would make it easy.”


“Even if I do let you go, do you really think I couldn't persuade you to visit my bed again? Do you think you could keep me out of yours?”

I was stunned. It hadn't even occurred to me that he would bother coming after me.

“Oh, kitten,” he rumbled. “Don't underestimate me. I am nothing if not tenacious. And persuasive.”

I wanted to glare at him some more--his proprietary bullshit ought to make me furious--but truth be told, the thought that he would try to seduce me even if I left him was too gratifying. My heart lifted traitorously. My throat even tightened a little.

Shit. It wasn't just gratifying, it was a relief.

I didn't want to lose him.

His gaze became deeply hooded, glowing with self-satisfaction. “Touch me,” he rasped. “I'm getting tired of waiting.”

“Bossy,” I said repressively--breathlessly. “Quit it.”

“You quit it,” he returned, eyes flashing. “I'd have fucked you three time over by now on any other day. I am being outrageously patient.”

My pussy contracted, grew wet.

Well, wetter.

I'd been dripping since he walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but white skin and wet black hair.

“I made it pretty clear I want to be kissed,” I said. “So what are you waiting for?”

“If you want kisses, come and take them yourself,” he growled.

“Fine,” I snapped, and rose up onto my knees, intending to grab his shoulders and pull him down to my mouth.

The room, however, had other ideas. It began to spin wildly around me. My stomach clenched in response and I lost my center of gravity, tilting forward helplessly. Loki's hands were there immediately to steady me.

“Shit,” I mumbled into his chest, “How much blood did you take?”

He cursed under his breath and lifted me up, then crawled onto the bed with me in his arms.

“I drink almost a pint per feeding,” he replied grudgingly, “So, close to two pints in the last two days.” He settled amongst the blankets with me tucked against his chest. “I shouldn't have fed from you at all yesterday. I'm afraid I lost control of myself during our game.”

“Ugh…” I held on to him and waited for my senses to settle. At least the nausea wasn't so bad this time, and Loki's erection felt really nice pressed into my belly. I took hold of it with one hand just to distract myself from my discomfort.

Loki grunted at the contact but didn't protest. He did, however, say, “I don't think I can make love to you today, kitten.”

“Not fair,” I grumbled. “Use your magical healing powers to fix me.”

“I can't replace your blood, sweetheart, I can only heal physical trauma and speed your body processes a bit.”

Sweetheart? Did he just call me sweetheart?!

“Do that, then,” I demanded, suppressing the unexpected urge to giggle.

“I've already healed you this morning,” he said. “You'll have to wait a few hours before I can do it again.”

“Oh. How come?”

He sighed. “The human body can only be hurried along so much. Try to force it and you can end up causing more damage.”

“You healed me twice last night, though.”

He tried to take my hand off his cock and I tightened my grip. “I healed you in two different areas last night. Let go, you little witch.”

“Don't wana.” To prove it, I started stroking him through the linen.

“Kitten,” he growled in warning--only it came out closer to a groan.

“I want to make you come,” I said, fascinated by the pulse of his cock in my hand. “Since you won't have sex with me.”

“I thought you wanted kisses,” he said in a slightly strained voice.

“You can still kiss me.”

I'd never made him come with just my hands before, and suddenly I really wanted to see it. Plus, he was actually letting me touch him and talk back to him. The freedom filled me with elation--made me want to please him more than ever before.

“Alright,” he grunted, tugging at my wrist again. “Let me take it out.”

I let go and looked down to see that curved alabaster length pop out from behind the waistband of his pants.

My mouth watered at the sight of it. If not for the blood loss, I would have sucked him again. But I didn't think my head would appreciate all the movement.

Loki made a low sound of pleasure when I took hold of him. His cock felt wonderfully smooth and hard between my hands.

“You never let me touch you like this,” I mumbled, gaze trained on his sex. “It feels so good.”

He groaned softly, “Harder, kitten.”

The note of pleading in his voice made me feel almost giddy. I squeezed him a bit, pumped his length with both hands until his belly quivered and his breath became ragged.

Then I reached between his legs and cupped his testicles, rolling them gently the way he'd taught me.

He jerked and moaned, one hand clamping onto my hip. “Good,” he breathed. “Fates, that's good.”

I worked him faster, focusing on the head, using my thumb to circle the tip, slipping through the trickle of his precome and spreading it over his flesh.

“Mmm.” His breath came faster and his hips began to twitch.

“You're getting close,” I murmured, tilting my head back to look at him. “We don't have anything to catch it with.”

He gave me a glazed look, eyes very green, lips parted, and then he lifted one hand and conjured a cloth napkin like the ones that came with my meals.

I took it and spread it out on the bed between us, then returned to his cock, stroking with renewed vigor.

He moaned and shook as the orgasm took him, thick length jerking in my hands. I counted five milky spurts, watched the ropes of his come decorate my hands and wet the napkin between us.

The sight of it made me burn with arousal.

“That was fun,” I said when he'd settled.

“Mmm.” His hand slid up my side to my ribcage and then back down again. “I like you in silk.”

It did feel pretty nice, especially with his big hand running up and down my body.

“The color suits you as well.” His hand came back up and glided lazily over my breast, fingertips circling the nipple. “You're hard,” he murmured. “Are you wet as well, kitten?”

“You know damn well I am,” I said, flushing a little despite myself.

“My senses aren't as acute in this form,” he murmured, still cupping me through the silk. “I can't smell you right now.”

“You can feel me, though,” I said, heart pounding.

He made that deep, erotic purring sound. “Is that an invitation?”

I stared at his naked chest, face burning. “Yes.”

He chuckled and then picked up the spoiled napkin and tossed it onto the floor. The next thing I knew he'd rolled on top of me and I found myself gazing up into hooded blue-green eyes as he braced his arms on either side of my shoulders and bent to kiss me.

I sucked in a breath just before his mouth met mine and his tongue stole between my lips, slow and sensuous. Dipped deep and tangled with mine. I opened wider for him, held onto his shoulders and sucked him eagerly, first his tongue and then his lips

He purred into my mouth and the sound shot straight down to my pussy, stabbing me with pleasure.

I felt his knee pushing my thighs apart and spread myself wide for him, wanting his hips between my legs, aching for his cock.

I'd forgotten all about the blood loss, and about my invitation only moments earlier, so when his fingers found my open pussy I jerked and gasped in surprise, pleasure sparking hotly from his touch.

“Mmmm…” he growled against my mouth, fingers dipping inside me.

I spread wider for him, lifted myself to his fingers, body buzzing, clit buzzing.

Please, I thought drunkenly, my clit, touch my clit.

His fingers withdrew immediately and rose to that swollen ball of nerves, circled it, pressed and rubbed and made me whimper around his tongue.

He pestered the spot for several minutes, until he had me keening and panting into his mouth, and then pulled back, gazing down into my face as he brought me right to the edge of orgasm with just his fingertips.

When he took his hand away I cried out in dismay, “No teasing!” but he wasn't listening--he was looking down between our bodies, guiding his cock where he wanted it, pushing deep inside.

I gasped loudly at the intrusion, nearly tipped into orgasm, clenching around his length and lifting myself to him.

“But, you said--”

“Shhh,” he purred, thrusting slowly. “Lie still.”

I wrapped my legs around him and he growled, “I said be still, dammit. Let me do it.” Then he pushed my leg off his left hip and put his hand between us.

“You're not s-supposed to order me--ah!” I broke off on a gasp as his thumb began to circle my clit.

That was it. Between his gentle thrusts and the press of his thumb, I went careening into a long, trembling orgasm.

He watched me steadily through the whole thing, still stroking and thrusting, braced on one extended arm with his black curls hanging between us, eyes gone very green again. The look on his face pushed me higher, for some reason. I clutched his arms, crying his name in a high, ragged voice.

“That was sweet,” he said when I subsided beneath him, twitching faintly with aftershocks.

“You--” I panted, “You--said you weren't gonna--”

“My self-control is questionable with you,” he replied wryly.

I laughed a little and wrapped my legs around him again, drawing him deeper. His length twitched inside me, big and hot and very much still hard.

“Now what?” I rasped.

“Now you release me,” he said. “We're done.”

I didn't like that authoritative tone so I squeezed him until his eyes fluttered slightly with pleasure. “You're not done,” I said.

He closed his eyes and said in a strained voice, “You need rest.”

“I'll lie still, I promise.”

He just snorted.

“I promise,” I insisted.

Green eyes opened again, slitted and glowing. “You cannot be trusted to keep that promise.”

“Hold me down, then.”

His pupils dilated. “You’re playing with fire, kitten.”

The look on his face was very familiar--dominance, aggression. Possession. It made me flush with fear and fresh arousal, but I didn't want him to slip back into master mode yet. My day had only just begun, and I liked this softer, Aesir Loki. I wanted more of him.

“Okay,” I said, “What should we do then?”

His gaze dipped to my mouth, and then my breasts, still covered seafoam silk. “Let me go and I'll finish myself.”

Oh. Oh. I hadn't even thought of that.

His gaze slid back to my face, green eyes narrowed with lust. “You like that idea, hm?”

I nodded quickly and he smirked, tugging at my grip on his hips.

“Release me, woman.”

I let him go and he sat back between my legs, hands sliding down my body, over my breasts and belly to my hips.

His gaze fasted onto my open sex and his fingers followed, gathering the fluid that dripped from me and spreading it onto his cock.

He looked at my face as he started to stroke himself and my heart sped with excitement. When he looked at my breasts I raised my hands to them, watching his eyes flare and his hand move faster as I cupped myself.

His chest began to expand and his skin to flush, free hand returning to my pussy to stroke the open lips.

The sight of Loki pleasuring himself did incredible things to me. The look on his face and the way he touched himself--the way he looked at me and the sound of his breath becoming more and more ragged…

Finally, I put my hand between my legs, fingers bumping his, and began to touch myself, too.

He groaned, hand moving faster on his cock. “Yes,” he breathed. “Beautiful...That's so good.”

It still embarrassed me a little, but the unmistakable pleasure it gave him to see me touch myself was more than enough to push me past it. Plus, he'd never called me beautiful before.

I gripped my breast in one hand and rolled my clit with the other, both of us panting now, Loki's eyes gone to slits again, gaze flicking up and down my body.

The first two fingers of his free hand slipped inside me and I cried out at the sudden stab of pleasure.

“Come,” he whispered, pumping himself rapidly, fingers curling inside me. “Come for me, sweetheart. I'm so close.”

The words--and that unexpected endearment--pushed me right to the edge. His hoarse cry and the sensation of his come striking my inner thigh a moment later sent me hurtling right over it.

We came together in a chorus of rasping breath and wordless exclamations.

Loki slumped forward onto his extended arms again afterward, long hair trailing over my heaving chest. I lifted trembling hands to touch that hair, drawing his head down until he rested heavily against me.

“Thank you for that,” I said softly when I caught my breath.

He chuckled against my right breast, said in a muffled voice, “My pleasure.”

There was no talking for a while after that. Loki shifted against me and I felt his mouth close over my silk-covered nipple, but it was a lazy caress, and a moment later his lips found the naked flesh above the neckline of the dress. Then he lifted up far enough to kiss me so languidly it made my whole body feel like warm molasses.

“I like your kisses better when you don't withhold them,” I mumbled, eyes still closed.

He chuckled. “This normal stuff is quite a bit more enjoyable than I expected it to be.”

I cracked an eyelid. “Really?”

“Mm.” He pulled back and looked between our bodies. “I ought to let you rest now, but I've made quite a mess of you.” He touched the sticky residue of his come where it decorated my thigh. “I've soiled the sheets. And your dress as well.”


He frowned. “I think not.”

“You could wash me,” I suggested hopefully. “I’ll even let you carry me in there.”

His expression creased with amusement. “Really, now. How generous of you.”

In the end, he did it, though. Carried me in and tucked me into the tub. Washed me from head to toe with his bergamot scented soap. By the time he pulled me out I was flushed all over, tingling madly with renewed arousal. But he just dried me off again, put me back in the bed and tucked the blankets around me.

“You're not getting in?” I asked, disappointed.

He shook his head. “Rest now.”

I gave him a You're not serious, are you? look. How the hell was I supposed to sleep after all that touching?

“I am very serious,” he replied, straightening.

“What are you going to do?”

“I have things to take care of,” he said. “I'll be back in a few hours.”

A few hours? “This is my day, Loki. You’re not supposed to leave me here all alone.”

He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched just a little. “You need rest, kitten. What would you have me do?”

“Stay,” I said.

He sighed and muttered, Allmother save me. But he flipped the covers back and climbed into the bed beside me.

I snuggled into him and smiled as he put his arms around me. I really liked ‘normal’ Loki.

“Try to sleep,” he rumbled.

“Okay,” I mumbled, willing my body to calm. It wasn't easy with his bare torso pressed against me. Even the texture of his linen pants was strangely stimulating.

I wiggled closer.

“Kitten,” he warned.

“Do you really like this?” I asked softly. “Being normal with me? I mean, enough to be this way all the time?”

My heart beat a little too fast in the silence that followed.

“No,” he replied finally.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but my heart plummeted anyway.

“I want to dominate you even now,” he said gravely. “Every time I look at you.”

The words made me tingle with fear and arousal. “Why?” I asked quietly.

He growled--deep and velvety. “Because it's good. The way you buck and cry out when I bite you. The way your pussy grips me when I ride you fast and rough. The look of fear in your eyes. I want that every moment of every day.” His arms banded around me so hard it actually hurt a little bit. “I want to turn you over right now and bend your arms back while I ride you. I want you shivering at my feet with your mouth wrapped around my cock. I want you begging and sobbing and struggling beneath me, kitten. Now, tomorrow, every day. That is never going to change.”

I heard my own breath shudder in the silence that followed. My nipples were painfully hard. I could feel hot fluid trickling from my sex. Loki's hand slid down my back and pressed me into his erection.

“I want your submission,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “Your fear, your pain, your pleasure. And if you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you want it, too.”

Chapter Text

I did manage to sleep for a few hours that day, and Loki must have healed me while I was out, because I woke feeling much refreshed.

Also, alone.

That lying bastard. He'd left me while I slept.

Well, he hadn't actually said he would stay. I still felt misused, though.

I also really needed to use the bathroom. I sat up gingerly, but much to my relief, my head hardly swam at all. My legs did feel a bit wobbly, but I made it to the bathroom without incident.

I emerged a few minutes later to find Peter delivering my lunch.

His eyes widened when he saw me and I froze on the spot.

Shit, why hadn't I put that dress back on?

Oh, right, because Loki had stained it with his come.

Peter's gaze dipped down my body and came back up to my face--which was undoubtedly beet red.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.


We stared at each other for a moment while I considered whether or not to retreat back to the bathroom and cover myself with towel.

Peter made the decision for me, however. He turned away and set the tray on the table. “Loki keeps a robe in the closet, on the left side of the door,” he said, fussing unnecessarily with the arrangement on the tray.

I crossed quickly to the closet and found the robe. It was silk as well, in deep, emerald green.

Peter straightened from the table when I came out and smiled tentatively.

“Thanks,” I said, face still hot.

His smile widened a little--polite, but genuine. “Sure.”

There was an awkward silence, and then he shrugged slightly and turned to go.

“Um--!” I started, relieved when he immediately stopped and looked back. “Do you know where Loki is?”

He nodded. “He's up top. Shouldn't be long, though.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“You look really good in that,” he added unexpectedly, nodding to the robe. “Also, without it.”

He said it so politely that the meaning took a moment to sink in.

My face, still hot from before, positively burned. “I...uh, thanks.”

He just nodded, hazel eyes steady and...yes, a little hungry.

Maybe more than a little.

My heart beat faster under that look.

“I'll tell him you're up,” he said, then turned again to go.

“Peter,” I blurted, just as he reached the open door.

He looked back and the hunger was still there in his eyes.

“Are you happy here?” I asked, wondering what the hell I was doing.

He shrugged. “It's better than being alone out there with those monsters.”

Well, I definitely understood that. But…

“Is Loki good to you?” I asked.

His lips quirked wryly. “Define ‘good.’”

I couldn't help it, I laughed a little bit. Peter's expression warmed, hazel eyes glinting with amusement.

He really was handsome, in a charming, boyish sort of way. Just the type I would have gone for in my previous life.

“I might try living up top,” I said.

His smile disappeared and he turned fully back towards me. “Oh,” he said faintly.

There was no surprise on his features though.

I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to talk to him about it, except that he was the only other human being I had any sort of connection with.  

“You're not sure though,” he said finally.

I nodded. And then--much to my surprise and chagrin--I started to cry.

I put my face in my hands. “Sorry I--I don't know why--” I broke off, swallowing back a sob.

Peter came across the room to me. I could hear his footsteps approaching, and then his voice close by murmuring, “It's okay.”

A very warm, very human hand touched my shoulder. I did sob then, because it felt good, and it felt strangely wrong too, because I'd never expected to touch another human being again.

And it felt different than Loki's touch. Safer.

“It's okay, really,” he said again, very softly, and he was standing so close I could actually feel the heat coming off his body.

That heat drew me like a magnet. The next thing I knew he was holding me, and I was holding him, and I'd forgotten just how warm people were, because Loki's body was cool most of the time. And although Peter didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him, he seemed softer somehow, too. More inviting. More comforting.

It felt good to be held like that. Really, really good.

I cried quietly into his shoulder for a while and he touched my back, rubbed it gently.

“You're going to be okay,” he murmured, and his voice wasn't as deep as Loki's, but it was so much kinder.

A low, velvety drawl reached us from the doorway.

“Well, this is a touching scene.”

I jerked back instantly and Peter let me go, both of us spinning quickly towards that voice.  

Loki stood there, arms crossed, wearing all black again, skin very blue and crimson eyes glowing.

His face was oddly blank, but his eyes made me want to scurry away like a frightened prey animal.

Peter swallowed loudly, but he said nothing, so I followed suit. I just stood there clutching the robe over my chest, heart very loud in my ears.

Loki's gaze move from me to Peter. After a moment, he tilted his head minutely to one side and Peter hurried past him out the door, chin tucked close to his chest.

After Peter had gone, Loki stepped inside and shut the door.

When he looked at me again, his eyes were hooded dangerously, pupils very black. His long frame somehow appeared both relaxed and tightly coiled. Poised for action. Radiating potential violence.

Then he took a breath, blinked slowly, and his skin bled white.

A breath and a half later, I once again found myself looking into beautiful blue-green eyes.

“You rested well, I trust,” he said mildly.

The shift in his demeanor spun me. My heart was still pounding, skin tight in anticipation of his punishment.

When I couldn't muster a single word in response, he came away from the door and strolled past me to the closet, saying, “The nap did you good. Your color is much improved.”

I turned to keep him in view and stuttered, “I--I feel a lot better, yeah.”

In the closet, he stripped off his shirt and hung it up, then looked at me sidelong, expression speculative.

Not for the first time, I wished vehemently that I could read his thoughts.

“I like the robe,” he said. “But it's a little big.”

I followed his gaze to where the silk hem pooled around my feet.

When I looked up again, he was pulling another dress out from between the rows of neatly pressed black shirts hanging before him.

This dress was made of black satin, with a pattern of big crimson roses on it. The skirt was longer than the last one, and not as fitted, with a slit on one side that went clear up to the hip.

“This will fit you better,” he murmured, holding it out to me.

It took some doing to convince my legs to carry me forward, but I came cautiously into the closet to take it from him.

His eyes became hooded with amusement. “No punishments today, remember? I gave you my word.”

There was a glint in his eyes, though. One that promised future reckoning.

“We didn't do anything wrong,” I blurted, clutching the dress in front of me. “I started crying and--he was just being nice.”

That look of amusement deepened. “Peter knows better than to touch without permission,” he said.

“Are...are you going to hurt him?”

His lips curved slowly. “Oh, yes.”

“Loki, please don't--”

“Give him exactly what he wants?” he interrupted, arching a brow.

My confusion made him chuckle darkly. “Did you forget that he wears my collar, kitten?”

I frowned and Loki turned fully towards me, holding out one hand. “The robe, please.”

I just stood there blinking at him. “Are you saying he wanted to get caught?”

He gave me a smug look. “You misbehave when you want my attention, as well.”

I opened my mouth to argue and he chuckled. “You really ought to give up this denial thing, my dear."

The flush of anger and humiliation made me bolder. I threw the dress on the floor, stripped the robe off, flung it at him, and then turned on my heel to stomp away.

He caught me by the arm, fingers steely. When I looked back, he was bending to pick up the dress with his free hand.

“Peter knew exactly what he was doing,” he said, not unkindly, then straightened and held the dress out to me again. “Even if I hadn't seen you together, I would have smelled him on you.”

I snatched the dress from his hand. “He was comforting me. Because this whole situation is so fucked up and I'm scared, Loki. I'm scared to stay and I'm scared to go, and I just wanted to talk to somebody about it. Somebody who understands…” I broke off, emotion swamping me.

Shit. I was crying again. I didn't want to cry in front of him. And why had I said all that, anyway? I hadn't meant to say so much. To lay myself so bare…

“Kitten,” he said gently. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You're not going anywhere.”


He pulled me around fully to face him and looked down at me almost kindly, though there was a still that glint behind his eyes. “I told you yesterday, I'm not letting you go. You can live up on the compound or you can stay down here, but you can't get away from me.”

I yanked my arm out of his grip. “I am not your property!”

“You are,” he said implacably. “You know it. Everyone on the compound knows it, pet. I could take you up there and whip you on the front lawn and nobody would bat an eye.”

“You won't, though,” I said hotly, eyes blurred with angry years. “Not if I refuse to cooperate.”

“When has that ever stopped me before?” he asked, amused.

“I never fought you before,” I said, swiping roughly at my cheeks. “Not really.”

His expression darkened, “And why is that, I wonder?”

I glared at him. “You really think I'm in denial, Loki? You really think I don't know how much I enjoy this? I hate how much I want it!”

My own words shocked me. I'd never realized…was this why I felt so conflicted?

It was like a damn had broken inside me. Words just tumbled out.

“Why is it so good?” I demanded softly, helplessly. “Why do I enjoy being treated like garbage? What is wrong with me?

All the humor in his expression had gone. His eyes were grave and very blue. “You are not garbage, and I would never treat you as such,” he said quietly. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“You don't believe that,” I whispered. “You called yourself a monster. What kind of woman wants to be with a monster? What kind of woman wants this?”

Loki watched the tears drip down to my chin, his face stiff and unreadable.

“I want to believe you made me this way,” I whispered. “But you didn't, did you? It was hiding inside me all along.”

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he repeated stubbornly.

I went on as though he hadn't spoken. “I think maybe I do love you. What does that say about me?”

The muscles in his face grew taut, eyes flashing with emotion: regret, anger, desire. Pain, too. “You said this morning that you didn’t believe me a monster.”

“I don't,” I said dully. “But what kind of woman falls for a man who treats her like an animal? What kind of woman chooses sexual torture and domination over freedom and a normal life?”

I paused, weighing everything I'd said, looking at his face, his bare upper body. God, he was so beautiful.

“Kitten…” he murmured.

I shook my head. “Stop calling me that. I'm not your pet anymore, Loki.” I met his gaze and found it filled with resignation, but I said the words anyway. “I want to go up there. I need to know that I can still be… I want to live with people again.”

He nodded, said in a flat voice, “A room is being prepared for you now. It will be ready within the hour.” Then he bent and picked up the robe, stepping past me to hang it on the hook just inside the door.

I watched him, feeling strangely numb.

Then I heard myself say, “Tomorrow.”

He turned back, “What?”

I hesitated, knowing how contradictory it was, and then said it anyway. “You can take me up there tomorrow. My day isn't over yet and I want to finish it.”

His expression remained neutral, but his eyes had gone green again. Bright, electric green.

“Fine,” he said quietly, “Go eat your lunch.” And though it was phrased as an order, it didn't sound like one.

…  … …

After lunch, Loki took me to bed again.

It was different this time. Different than ever before.

He didn't say a word, just picked me up, carried me to the bed and kissed me until I started squirming restlessly under him.

Then he touched me. Slowly. Over the satin dress and then under it, pushing the fabric up around my waist so he could stroke my legs and hips.

Then he propped me up on his pillows so I could watch him suck me.

That was different, too. He took his time. Drew it out, exploring me with his tongue, kissing my sex the way he'd kissed my mouth.

He'd made me beg before, but never like this. Never so gently. So tenderly. I couldn't take my eyes of him, broad shoulders nestled between my legs. Black lashes fanning his cheeks as he made love to me with his mouth.

The sight of his lips on me, pale cheeks sucking in as he drew on my flesh...and then his tongue peeking out, pink and glistening, rooting around my clit, periodically flicking free from the top of my slit...

It made me wild.

I came the first time with my gaze locked onto his mouth, watching my clit swell and flush brilliant red on his tongue.

“Fuck me,” I whispered after, and he rose up between my legs, braced himself over me on extended arms and let me open his pants so I could guide him into my body.

Then he tucked both my legs up over his shoulders and rode me with long, deliberate strokes. Brought me to orgasm with his cock bumping the mouth of my womb, then turned me over onto my hands and knees and did it again.

By the end, I was sobbing wordlessly into the pillow and Loki had molded himself to my back, rocking me with his thrusts, one hand tucked between my legs so he could run his middle finger around and around and around my clit.

I screamed when I came--low and ragged--and Loki gave a deep shuddering moan against the back of my neck. He started thrusting hard then--Yes, God, finally!--until my knees gave out and I collapsed beneath him, pleasure radiating down my limbs and turning them to water.

I had just come down from the heights when I felt his cock begin to jerk inside me. I heard myself moaning, Yes, Loki, please! as he growled his pleasure and pumped that big, pulsing length as deep as my body could take it. I could actually feel myself filling with his come, overflowing as he continued to thrust. I squeezed him tight and lifted myself to accept his ecstasy, wanting to hear him moan again--utterly gratified when he did.

He said my name then, soft and broken with pleasure, and for a moment I wasn't sure if I had imagined it or not.

He'd never once called me by name before.

“Mine,” he whispered, mouth against my ear, still driving me into the mattress with his final thrusts.

And then he said it again.

My name on his tongue--in that deep, velvety voice, laden with pleasure and possession--was the most delicious sound I'd ever heard.

Chapter Text

I guess I drifted off again after Loki withdrew from my body and settled beside me.

I woke to his profile not much more than a foot away. He lay there on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. His pants were still open and his cock lay pale and inert in the hollow of his hip.

Though I didn't move or make a sound, his head rolled towards me. We looked at each other for a long moment.

His face was so close I could see the striations of color in his eyes.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched my fingertips to his lips.

He made a sound. Soft and strangely insensible. His mouth opened slightly and my heart sped just as little as I touched the slick inner surface of his lower lip, just grazing the edge of his teeth.

He didn't have fangs in this form. In fact, aside from the otherworldly physical perfection, he appeared completely human.

He wasn't human though. Ironically, after today, I was more aware of that than ever.

“Do you really consider us cattle?” I asked softly.

His eyes became shuttered.

While I waited for him to answer I touched his upper lip and his tongue came forward to flick playfully at the tip of my finger.


He sighed. “I have to feed a minimum of once a week in order to avoid starvation. Twice, ideally. As you know, a single human cannot sustain me. Even a dozen wouldn't be enough.”

“So… you're saying you rescued all those people just as feeding stock?”

He turned his head away and stared at the ceiling again. “You've seen into my thoughts. You know why I brought them here.”

I touched his ear, traced the outer shell as I had traced his lips. His eyelids fluttered slightly.

“There's no shame in loneliness,” I murmured.

His gaze became shuttered again, but he said nothing.

There was an unhurried silence as I stroked his ear and shamelessly enjoyed his aristocratic profile.

But I was thinking, too. About leaving him. About all the things he'd told me today.

“Everything you’ve done to me… the lessons, the punishments...” I hesitated and his gaze shifted towards me, though he didn't turn. “Have you done the same to Peter?”

“All of it,” he answered flatly. “And more.”

That stung, though it didn't surprise me. But...“What about the things we did today? Do you take care of him like that? Do you make love to him?”

His lips thinned. “No.”

My heart lifted, squeezed. “Why me, Loki?”

He did turn towards me then, gaze cold and angry. “Because you demanded it.”

I didn't really understand his anger, but I pushed on anyway. “Peter never asked for that?”

“No,” he grated. “He never asked. None of them did.”

Strange. I wondered if Peter had wanted Loki's tenderness. If he still did.

Blue-green eyes darkened with resentment. “It's you that he wants, now.”

I blinked. “Me? Not...he-he doesn't want--”

“You,” he insisted. “You know he does. Since the moment he saw you.”


“To be fair, I do share with him from time to time.”

Now that stunned me speechless.

Loki's gaze was razor sharp on my face, reading everything.

“You hadn't even considered it,” he said softly, with just a hint of surprise.

“No--I…no. Of course not.”

“Do you want to be shared with him?” he asked baldly.

Loki and Peter? Did he mean at the same time?

Good God!

I couldn't even imagine... It was too much to process.

Loki was watching me intently, though, waiting for an answer.

”I--I hardly know him,” I said finally.

His eyes narrowed. “That's not a no.”

Shit. Did I want Peter?

“You felt something when he touched you,” Loki said.

I flushed. “It's called human connection, Loki.”

“That's not what he was thinking.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I didn't want to know--it was too much to think about. Too overwhelming.

“Would you like to witness his punishment?”

My eyes snapped open. “Wh-what?”

Loki's resentment had gone and now he looked at me with the familiar glow of lust and cruelty in his eyes. It was the look he wore just before he punished me, usually.

His mouth curved. “You would like it, wouldn't you? To see me do to him what I've done to you.”

The look and the words made me flush again. I wasn't sure I would enjoy such a thing at all but...there was something morbidly fascinating about the idea--seeing Loki torment someone else, for once. To see it from the outside.

I thought about the last time he'd punished me. The pain and humiliation. The demoralizing pleasure. Could I stand to see another human being suffer like that? Could I stand to see the pleasure? Peter's pleasure?

“He enjoys it nearly as much as you do,” Loki purred.

I felt an unwanted tingle deep in my belly and averted my eyes from Loki's expression of smug amusement.

“Will...will you fuck him?” I asked.

“Almost certainly,” he replied without hesitation.

Jealousy and arousal tangled inside me. I saw flashes of it in my head--Loki, naked and blue, with Peter pinned beneath him.

The thoughts shocked me deeply. So much that I shoved them instantly away.

“Won't it be worse for him if I'm there?” I asked. I couldn't even imagine the humiliation of another person watching Loki dominate me.

“Oh, yes.” His slow grin sent a chill down my back. “Much worse.”

I swallowed. “I don't think I want--”

Loki rolled toward me so abruptly that I squeaked in surprise. His hand darted between my legs.

I gasped and pressed my thighs together, but it was too late. His fingers penetrated, found me wet.

“That's what I thought,” he said darkly, teeth flashing.

“That's not--” I protested, trying to push his hand away.

“Not what?” he purred. “Not your pussy dripping at the thought of watching me fuck Peter senseless? And here I thought you would be jealous.”

“Stop it,” I said voicelessly. “I don't like this.”

His fingers filled me, curled inside me, rubbing sensuously. “You pussy disagrees,” he purred.

But he did take his hand away, pulling my thigh up over his hip and settling with his belly against me and his face very close.

His cock was hard.

“You said you wanted to talk to someone who understands,” he said softly, still radiating lust and cruelty. “Peter understands better than you can imagine.”

“So?” I countered, still flustered--but angry now, too. “That means I should watch you torture him?”

He just smiled. “You'll thank me afterward.”

…  … …

Loki didn't say another word about Peter, and after a few hours, I forgot all about it.

We made love again, less gently this time, but no less tenderly. He'd been letting me touch him all day--his cock, his face, his lips. I even lay beside him for a while just running my fingers through his hair.

He'd looked at me the whole time--not intently, but with a lazy, pensive expression. Like I was a problem he wasn't in any particular hurry to solve.

Afterward, he rolled onto his back and I touched his belly, followed the trail of black hair below his navel and enjoyed the sensation of his cock growing hard in my hand.

Then I climbed over his hips and looked down at him, heart pounding. He gave me that same lazy, pensive look and slid his hands up my thighs.

“Go on,” he murmured.

I rode him for the better part of an hour. Slowly at first, and then with increasing urgency. I brought myself three times before he succumbed to a long, groaning orgasm, then I lay down on his chest and listened to his heartbeat slowing.

His hand slipped up the back of my neck and into my hair, fingertips drifting along my scalp in an absent-minded caress that felt distinctly affectionate.

That touch pleased me so much I turned my face up to his throat and kissed him there, then licked him impulsively under the jaw.

He chuckled and pushed me down over his cock, hands on my hips. He was half-hard again already.

I wondered briefly if it was the vampirism or the extraterrestrial blood that gave him such stamina. His recovery time was outrageous.

A light knock on the door made me stiffen over him and lift myself from his chest.

Loki had taken the dress off me some time ago and draped it over the headboard. He reached for it now, handed it to me casually, and then waited for me to put it on before he called, “Enter.”

I tried to climb off him but he held me in place easily, big hands gripping my thighs.

A servant I'd seen once or twice before came in with my dinner tray. He was a bit older than Peter, handsome, blonde. He wore the collar, too, and he didn't bat an eye at the sight of us. He just came in, set the tray on the table, and paused to look at Loki as though for permission to go.

“Fetch Peter,” Loki said briefly.

The servant nodded, glanced at me once--well, at my naked thigh, exposed by the high slit of the dress--and then left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

“That one wants you, too,” Loki said, stroking my hips.

He didn't sound upset about it, so I just frowned down at him. “I wish men found me so attractive before the world ended.”

He chuckled. “Men tend not to see what's right in front of them when there are too many other options at hand.”

“Is that right? Would you have seen me?” I asked. “If I was standing next to a gaggle of supermodels, that is.”

He smirked. “It wasn't your looks that drew me to you. Though I'm certainly not complaining.” As though to prove his point, he cupped my breasts with both hands.

“Right,” I said wryly. “It was my lonely desperation that hooked you. The ultimate aphrodisiac.”

He chuckled again and pulled me down to him for a kiss.

That was when Peter's knock came at the door.

My heart did a funny little backflip and started fluttering wildly.

“Shh,” Loki murmured against my mouth. “You just sit here and watch, remember?”

When he let me go I slipped off of him and he rose from the bed, closing his pants as he crossed to the door. He paused then and looked back at me as his skin bled blue and his eyes turned deep, hungry crimson.

My body heated at the sight, prickling all over with fear and arousal.

The look of satisfaction he gave me sent little fizzing shocks of pleasure down into my belly.

My heart was still pounding when he turned to open the door.

I could see Peter's face just past Loki's shoulder. Loki stood there for a moment staring down at him--Peter was tall, probably around six feet, but there was still a difference of five or six inches between them.

I couldn't see Loki's expression, of course, but I could imagine it well enough.

Peter paled a little, then flushed very slowly, hazel eyes trained on Loki's face.

Finally, Loki stepped aside. Peter slunk into the room with the air of a dog who expects to be kicked.

He looked at me as he came to a stop in the center of the sitting area, hazel eyes still a little wide. I saw the flash of horror when he realized I would be witness to whatever torture Loki had planned for him.

It wasn't just horror, though. Half a dozen other emotions chased eachother through his eyes.

He held my gaze and let me see it all: hunger, humiliation, anticipation, fear. And, strangely, a flicker of something like solace.  

Some small part of him took comfort in the fact that I would be there to see this, despite hisbshame. I thought I understood why.

It was the same part of me that wanted to see Loki dominate him. Because we'd both submitted to the God of Mischief--both suffered for his pleasure. And it would be a balm, somehow, to share that torment with each other.

Behind Peter, Loki strolled to the table and perched his hip on it, one leg dangling, arms crossed casually over his naked chest.

“Strip,” he murmured, and that syllable, despite its silky softness, seemed very loud.

My heart beat even harder in response.

Peter swallowed again, throat clicking, and tore his gaze away from me, turning back to Loki. He started unbuttoning his crisp white shirt.

“Turn around,” Loki purred, and Peter rotated to face me again, face very pink now and gaze averted as he bared his body, garment by garment.

He was beautiful--nearly as beautiful as Loki. Smaller, of course, but similarly built, with a narrow torso and pleasantly broad, angular shoulders. His whole body was leanly muscled like Loki's, too, only a little more so--like someone who does considerable physical labor on a regular basis.

The biggest difference between them was Peter’s skin, though: pale, but with a rich golden glow and a healthy dusting of dark gold body hair.

And his cock was long, slender compared to Loki's, and perfectly straight.

It was also hard.

When he'd stripped, Peter sunk down slowly onto his knees at Loki's feet, without being told.

“Bring me the quirt,” Loki commanded softly. “The one with the wooden handle.”

Peter crawled to the closet and came out a moment later with a tool in his mouth that looked like a cross between a whip and a riding crop. It had two narrow tongues of leather hanging from its long wooden handle.

Loki had never used a quirt on me before. My heart sped, looking at it. Those twin lashes looked wicked.

“Over the bed,” Loki murmured after Peter had brought the quirt to him.

The smaller man hesitated, and my heart beat very hard, realizing what Loki meant to do.

Slowly, Peter turned toward me once more and crawled to the foot of the bed. His eyes when he looked up at me were glowing with fear and reluctance, face deeply flushed.

“Up,” Loki growled from his perch on the table.

I glanced at him nervously as Peter rose onto his knees and laid his upper body on the mattress, arms curled loosely above his head. Loki smiled at me so darkly my breath caught in my throat.

The position put Peter's head and arms only inches from my legs where I sat in the center of the mattress. If I wanted to, I could reach out and touch him--that mop of chocolate hair, the smooth, golden shoulders.

Peter turned his face away from me and relaxed against the sheets with visible difficulty, ribs expanding rapidly with nervous breath.

Loki rose from the table and came to the bed with the quirt held loosely in his right hand, its twin tails trailing the floor.

Then he lifted one bare azure foot and planted it on Peter's behind, shoving the smaller man up further onto the mattress, until his arms bumped my knees and his legs were fully extended.

Peter gave a muffled grunt of dismay and I jerked back from him instinctively.

Loki shot me a glare of warning though, and I realized he wanted us close--Peter and me--because that would intensify Peter's discomfort.

And mine.

This wasn't just Peter's punishment, I realized suddenly. Loki couldn't use the quirt on me today, so making me witness to Peter's pain and humiliation was like...punishment by association.

You sneaky bastard, I thought, glaring at him. You tricked me!

Blue lips peeled back from neat white fangs in a slow, predatory grin.

And then, still holding my gaze, he lifted his arm and struck Peter across the ass with the quirt.

Peter jerked so hard his arms bumped me again, but he didn't make a sound.

At least, not at first.

I watched in fascinated horror as Loki worked the quirt back and forth across Peter's body, from the backs of his knees to the backs of his shoulders, avoiding only a small area around the base of his spine.

All that smooth golden skin welted brilliant, beautiful pink.

Peter finally started making sounds when Loki began a second pass over all those tidy welted stripes, pausing here and there to lay several blows in the same spot, until the skin was no longer pink but bright, angry red, bordering on blistered.

I was breathing hard--almost as hard as Peter. But it wasn't excitement, despite the fact that Loki's face glowed with arousal and his cock was straining at his fly.

I'd never seen anything like this--Loki had never hurt me this badly--and when Peter finally began to whimper into the mattress, I felt my eyes burning with unshed tears.

I covered my face with my hands and thought, Stop, stop, no more!

Loki stopped.

“Pet,” he growled.

I looked up, but he wasn't talking to me. He came forward, leaning over Peter's quivering body, and put his hand under Peter's jaw, forcing his head up.

“Look at her,” Loki growled.

Glassy, reddened hazel eyes latched onto mine. His face was deeply flushed and streaked with tears. Lips parted, panting hard.

“Tell her what you're feeling, pet,” Loki commanded.

Peter licked his lips, tried to speak. No sound came out. Loki jerked his head up a little farther and he tried again.

“Good,” Peter rasped. “So good.”

I stared at that miserable face and wondered why Loki would make him lie to me.

Loki growled again, pulled back, yanking Peter up onto his feet.

“Believe it now, kitten?” Loki purred, leaning over Peter's shoulder to look down the front of his body.

My breath dried up in my lungs. Peter's cock was so hard it actually looked painful--stiff and so utterly suffused with blood the head was deep, angry purple. His testicles hung very tightly against his body, as though he were on the verge of orgasm even now.

Loki’s hand rested possessively on Peter's left hip, holding the smaller man against the front of his body. He reached around Peter's other hip and pointed at the bed with the quirt handle. There was a wet spot the size of my palm on the sheet where Peter had lain.

“You stained my sheet, pet,” Loki growled.

“S-sorry,” Peter whispered raggedly.

Loki's crimson eyes held mine, though it was Peter he spoke to. “And you nearly came without permission.”

Peter closed his eyes, “I’m sorry, I'm sorry. Please...”

“Why are you sorry, pet?”

Peter's breath shuddered loudly. “I touched her,” he panted. “Without permission.”

“You did touch her, didn't you?” Loki purred. “Are you going to touch her again?”

Peter shook his head quickly, eyes still closed.

“Good boy,” Loki murmured. “Open your eyes.”

Peter's eyes opened, glazed stare trained somewhere behind me.

“Look at her,” Loki commanded softly.

He looked at me and I saw a flicker of surprise on his face as he realized I'd been crying. I still was, actually. Slow, inexplicable tears.

I was terrified, and miserable, and… strangely thrilled as well. I looked into Peter's eyes and felt almost elated.

“Should I let him come, kitten?” Loki asked softly, nuzzling Peter's neck.

I nodded quickly, heart in my throat, and Loki brought the quirt around Peter's body again, dragging the leather tongues across his groin.

Peter gasped at the contact and his cock jumped several times.

“Right on the edge, aren't you?” Loki purred. “Do you want my cock, pet?”

Peter released a long, shaky breath, whispered, “Yes.”

Loki set the quirt on the bed and his hand disappeared between their bodies.

Peter stood there with his arms at his sides, gaze hooded drunkenly. He looked at me again and that intoxicated glance touched something deep inside me.

I knew what he was feeling--and I wanted it. The intensity of that desire shocked me to my core.

There was a flash of green light between their bodies then, and I knew that Loki had conjured something, though I couldn't think what. I couldn't think much of anything--I could barely breathe, waiting for what was coming.

Peter cried out suddenly, back arching. His right hand rose towards his cock, fluttered in the air as though he fought with himself not to touch the straining organ.

Slowly, his hand returned to his side.

Loki had seen it all over Peter's shoulder. He made a low humming sound of satisfaction and licked Peter's neck slowly from shoulder to jaw.

“It's been too long,” he murmured. “You're tight.”

And then he thrust once, the movement pushing Peter's hips forward, making his erection bob against his belly.

Heat burned my face, crept down towards my breasts. Trickled into my womb.

Loki had taken me like this before. The memory of his cock stretching me was so potent I felt myself flexing in response, aching with unexpected desire.

I hadn't liked it, although he'd made me come that way.

Peter liked it though. I recognized that wild expression of pleasure--the one that looked almost identical to pain. He gasped with every thrust and his cock flushed even deeper than before, belly quivering, thighs quivering.

I wanted to see it--Loki's cock moving inside him--but I was afraid, too. Afraid of how good it would be--of how I would feel watching Loki take pleasure in another person's body.

Of being so close to Peter’s pleasure and the act of his possession.

Loki didn't care about my fear, though. He pushed Peter down onto the bed again--and again it brought him uncomfortably close to me, golden arms braced on the satin sheet a breath away from my folded legs.

“Up,” Loki growled, shoving Peter fully onto the bed.

Peter lifted himself tremulously onto hands and knees, head hanging over my lap.

I wanted to move away, but I was paralyzed by the sight of Peter's back--those brilliant welts, some of them dark with blood--and Loki's long azure torso poised behind him, the shaft of his cock gliding in and out of Peter’s body, glossy with some unknown lubricant.

Peter groaned and shuddered, back bowing again.

“Not yet,” Loki hissed, gripping Peter's hips with both hands. “Come before me and I'll whip you bloody.”

Peter whimpered again, shoulders hunching as though anticipating a blow.

My heart felt like it would explode watching Loki ride him, driving his body forward rhythmically so that Peter's hair nearly touched my belly and I started to fear that he would collapse directly into my lap.

His arms had already begun to tremble.

“Kitten,” Loki purred, voice deep with pleasure.

I tore my gaze away from the man and looked up at the God.

His crimson eyes were slitted and bright. “Touch him,” he commanded.

My heart nearly stopped. I forgot about his promise--that he'd agreed not to issue orders today. I could only see that cold, hungry gaze and the pleasure on his face. I obeyed without thinking.

I lifted one hand toward Peter’s arm and saw my fingers tremble just before they touched him.

His skin was hot. Wonderfully, shockingly hot. I cupped his shoulder and Loki's thrusts drove that feverish flesh firmly into my palm.

Peter made a low, soughing sound and his head turned minutely toward my hand.

I touched his hair, painfully aware of Loki's gaze on us. Peter leaned into me, into my fingers, until I felt his cheek through those silky chocolate waves.

He sighed almost soundlessly and pressed closer. I cupped his face and held him there--with both hands, now--feeling the tears and the sweat on his skin and vibrating all over with unwilling arousal.

He was breathing so hard I could feel his breath striking my belly, even through the dress.

Loki made the rumbling sound of pleasure that heralded his impending orgasm. At the same moment, Peter turned his head and I felt searing wet heat envelop my right thumb.

Loki rode him hard enough to make him groan deeply, and the sound--the vibration of it on my thumb--traveled up my arm, straight to the tips of my breasts.

And then he began to suck me.

I must have made a sound--or maybe Loki read the pleasure in my thoughts--because he grabbed Peter by the throat and yanked him back, up onto his knees, thrusting so hard that Peter gasped sharply and stiffened in Loki's arms.

They were beautiful like that--Peter's golden body bowed backward with his head tucked against Loki's shoulder. And Loki wrapped tightly around him, one hand at his throat, the other arm banded across Peter's heaving chest.

Peter made a strangled sound as Loki’s bit his shoulder. At the same time, long blue fingers slid down to curl around Peter's cock.

That was it. They bucked together with a chorus of masculine cries, Loki's muffled, Peter’s clear and strangely sweet.

Peter's cock released a quick, arching spurt, and then another, Loki stroking him rapidly, thrusting so hard his hips slapped against Peter's ass and jolted the smaller man's body violently.

Loki looked at me in the midst of it all, holding my gaze with knowing, slitted crimson eyes.

Peter went limp at the same moment Loki let go of his shoulder--lips stained glossy red with Peter's blood--and released a long sigh of completion. His lean azure arms caught Peter across the chest to prevent him from falling into my lap. Peter's head lolled forwards, handsome face slack.

“He's alright,” Loki murmured in response to my silent spurt of anxiety.

Peter made a low sound that might have been agreement and Loki disengaged from his body, lifting him gently and setting him on his feet beside the bed.

Peter leaned heavily against Loki's chest and Loki held him there almost tenderly.

“Well done,” he murmured, stroking Peter's welted back very gently.

I felt an odd spurt of jealousy, seeing that. I knew how good it felt to receive Loki's praise, especially after punishment. I wanted that, too.

Loki shot me a smug look as Peter gave a soft, shaky breath and wrapped his arms around Loki's narrow waist.

“Wasn’t he beautiful, kitten?” he asked me, eyes glinting.

I flushed as Peter lifted his head to look at me through the tangle of his hair. But I met his muzzy gaze and nodded once, heart pounding.

His lips curved a little in pure, almost innocent pleasure, and I recognized that, too, all the way down to my core.

Everything Peter had felt today, I had felt. Loki had made me feel it. Had manipulated my mind and body expertly, just the way he manipulated Peter's.

But there was a difference. One that I shouldn't have been startled by.

Peter had never once resisted. Had never fought, never disobeyed, never looked at Loki with rage in his eyes.

But I had. Every time Loki made me play the pet, I fought him, at least in some small way. Even when I didn't resist him physically, the denial was still there in my mind, in my heart. I had surrendered to the pleasure, but never like that.

Was this--this unflinching submission--what Loki really wanted from me?

He was watching me still, absently touching Peter's hair and the back of his neck while those red eyes flayed me to the bone.

“Go clean up,” Loki murmured when Peter finally straightened a little to look up at him.

Peter nodded, glancing at me as he turned away. I could still feel the echoes of his flesh against my hand, his mouth on my thumb.

Those echoes were vivid in his eyes, as well.

“You come, too,” Loki said to me when Peter had disappeared into the bathroom.

He stood exactly where Peter had left him, pants still open, blue cock gleaming with whatever oil he'd used to lubricate their coupling.

While I looked, he pushed the pants down around his thighs and let them fall, stepping out of the crumpled fabric and walking naked to the bathroom.

He didn't look back.

After a moment, I rose on shaky legs and followed.

Chapter Text

Loki was just stepping into the shower when I came into the bathroom. Peter stood directly under the spray, head hanging, one arm braced against the tiled wall.

Loki looked back at me and crooked a finger.

I came to the shower doorway--the stall was large, doorless, with a glass panel on one side and a bench set into into the wall adjacent to the shower head.

Loki motioned me to the bench as he stepped up behind Peter.

I settled onto the cold slate tiles and pulled my feet up off the floor, hugging my legs against my chest.

Loki took a bottle from the little shelf on the opposite wall and reached around Peter's body to hand it to him.

Peter straightened--glancing over at me--and then turned to face Loki. He poured some soap into his hand.

“You first, ” Loki murmured.

Peter flushed visibly and it was clear that now he was trying very hard not to look at me.

It was uncomfortable for me, too, watching them like this--even more so than it had been to watch them fuck. I felt like an intruder--a voyeur. Just far enough away to not be a participant. Just close enough that I couldn't truly be ignored.

But I didn't look away. I couldn't. The two of them standing under the spray, one blue and one golden, water running down their bodies, every muscle wet and gleaming… it was captivating. Utterly, painfully arousing.

It was also just painful, I realized distantly. They looked so good together. I felt mousy and insignificant by comparison. Unnecessary.

Peter rubbed his hands together until they overflowed with lather and then washed quickly between his legs, front and back.

Thoroughly, ” Loki purred. He stood very close to Peter--no more than a few inches separated their bodies--watching with a hooded look of satisfaction as the younger man complied.

After rinsing himself, Peter went about washing Loki as well. That part, he took his time with, lathering Loki's sex very slowly, shaft first, and then his testicles.

They were both hard again before it was done.

“Suck me,” Loki said after Peter had rinsed him. “Show my kitten how well you can please me.”

His velvet voice was so deep I actually felt it reverberating in my body--my breasts, my pussy. My womb.

The phrase my kitten made my heart swell with unexpected joy.

Peter sank down onto his knees with the water raining over his whole body, splashing across Loki's torso, running in rivulets over his groin and belly, along the shaft of his cock. Some of those rivulets clung to the raised lines that decorated Loki's abdomen, flowing along the little swoops and curls like they had a mind of their own.

Peter leaned forward and took the rounded head of Loki's cock into his mouth.

My heart was beating so fast I felt as though I'd been running. I made myself breathe slowly, embarrassed by how loud my breath was in my own ears. Wondering if Peter could hear it. I knew Loki could, though he didn't look at me. He seemed to have eyes only for Peter.

I couldn't look away from him either--his mouth stretched wide around that azure shaft, his face almost serene as he took Loki’s length straight into his throat.

I think I stopped breathing altogether then. Peter's lips disappeared into the black curls at the base of Loki's cock.

Loki groaned, cupped Peter’s head between his hands, and began to thrust.

He withdrew completely and buried himself in Peter's throat again and again, pausing just long enough for Peter to take a breath each time, lingering longer and longer inside. Rocking the last inch of his length in an out, then withdrawing again, cock twitching in the spatter from the showerhead.

Peter knelt there unmoving the whole time, eyes closed and mouth open, letting Loki fuck his throat without a flicker of resistance in his posture or expression. In fact, if the state of his erection was any indication, he was thoroughly enjoying it, despite the fact that he had to hold his breath for longer and longer as Loki neared completion.

Peter never choked, either. Never coughed or gagged as had, taking only the first half of Loki's length.

Loki had been careful with me, I realized. Infinitely careful. And he'd been training me. To do exactly this--to take the full length of his cock without discomfort. Without pain or fear.

He could have easily made it painful. In fact, he could have made it a terrifying ordeal. I was sure that he'd enjoyed my fear yesterday in the tub. But fear hadn't been his purpose then, and it wasn't his purpose now. Even when he began to thrust faster--too fast for Peter to breathe properly in between--the smaller man remained still and calm, utterly trusting, holding himself open wide for Loki's pleasure.

I could actually see Peter's throat bulging rhythmically around Loki's cock when the God of Mischief stiffened and groaned roughly with orgasm. And it wasn't the pulse of Peter swallowing his come, either--it was Loki's cock kicking hard and fast inside him.

Peter didn't swallow until Loki finally withdrew--he couldn't have with that big shaft blocking his throat--and then he gasped loudly, like someone coming up from a long dive underwater.

The whole scene--Loki's pleasure, Peter's surrender, and the understanding of everything that went into it--made my body hum with arousal.

It so made me brutally, agonizingly jealous.

Why this scene had made me more jealous than watching them fuck, I had no idea. But my brain wasn't operating at full capacity--not flooded with so much lust and emotion--and I didn't bother trying to analyze my feelings.

I just sat there burning from head to toe.

By the time Loki stepped back from his pet and cast me a languid crimson glare, I was panting, heart pumping, pussy throbbing. My face felt terribly hot, my nipples ached. Every nerve ending buzzed and clamored.

And my heart felt like it would break with wanting him.

I would have crawled to Loki then without hesitation, had he commanded me. I think he knew it, too, because his satiated expression flared, darkened. He looked at me with such predatory gratification that I shivered involuntarily.


He said it softly--like a caress--still holding my gaze. But this time I knew right away he wasn't talking to me.

Peter looked up at him.

Loki's eyes glittered wickedly.

No, I thought, stomach dropping. Not--!

“Go and please my kitten.”


Time slowed for perhaps the space of a few seconds, the way it does only in moments of sheer terror.

Why I was terrified, I don't really know, but Peter saw it on my face.

He hesitated. Loki growled so sharply that Peter snapped onto hands and knees, scrambling away from him.

Coming towards me.

I was out of the shower and running before I had consciously decided to do it, bare feet slapping the tiles.

Loki caught me as I reached the bathroom door and picked me up off the ground, blue arms clamped around me like a vice, pinning my elbows to my sides.

He swung me around and started carrying me back to the shower.

All logical thought had deserted me. As I had during our game, I fell back on pure survival instincts. I screamed, kicked, twisted in his arms. Loki set me down and slapped one hand over my mouth, growling right in my ear, “Calm down.”

“No!” I shrieked against his hand.

I wasn’t terrified, I realized abruptly. I was furious. I sunk my teeth into the base of his thumb and he snatched his hand away.

Kitten,” he hissed. “What--?”

You said he couldn’t touch me!” I shrieked. “You said only watching!”

Peter knelt in the shower doorway, eyes wide, face pale.

Loki grabbed hold of my chin and yanked my head back against his shoulder, holding me hard enough to make my ribs and jaw ache. “You will not bite me, woman!” he snarled.

Fuck you!” I snarled back and tried to drive my heel into his foot. “Don't fucking lie to me!”

He growled, long and low. “You wanted it. You still do.”

“I want you! It's my day! No punishments, you bastard! You promised!”

His mouth grazed my cheek, voice deep and angry. “It is no punishment to let Peter suck you.”

My eyes pricked with angry tears. Wounded tears. “Bullshit! You want to humiliate me!”

“You want him,” he growled. “Admit it.”

I tried to kick him again. “No!”

His teeth found my ear lobe and bit down hard enough to make me jerk and cry out. “I want to see him suck you,” he said, seductive now, arm like steel a band around my ribs, fingers digging into my jaw.

“I don't care,” I hissed, bucking against him. “Let me go!”

“Peter, ” Loki said, in that velvet tone of command.

Peter crawled slowly out of the shower

I looked at him and spat, “Don't you dare!”

He stopped halfway across the tiles.

“You do not command my pet, kitten, ” Loki said darkly. “If I want him to suck you, he'll suck you. Even if I have to hold you down while he does it.”

Abruptly, my fury shifted to a strange, cold sort of calm.

I stopped fighting. He liked the fighting. I could feel his erection rising against the small of my back.

“I said no, Loki. I'm saying no.”

Loki stilled behind me. Peter's eyes widened.

There was a long, electric silence. A moment laden with inexplicable weight--a weight I would not fully understand until much later--as Loki decided whether or not to accept my refusal.

His grip on me slackened just a bit.

“Why now?” he demanded softly.

My heart leapt--hope and terror and a deep ache of longing.

“You know why,” I grated, eyes burning. “You pushed me too far.”

And you did it on purpose, didn't you? I thought, fighting the tears. 

His arm tightened again, but not to the point of pain.

“Peter,” he said quietly.

Peter stiffened, hazel eyes darting to Loki's face.

“Go,” said the God of Mischief. “Now.”

Peter lurched to his feet and darted past us, out of the bathroom. Relief made me let loose a long, shuddering breath.

Loki held me like that until we heard the outer door open and click closed again.

Then he pressed his face into the side of my neck and his arms relaxed, though he still held me trapped against his body.

“You do want him,” he said quietly.

Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes. “Irrelevant, you asshole.”

He laughed softly. It was an unexpectedly vulnerable sound. “I really thought you would let it happen.”

I grunted. “You thought wrong.”

Sharp teeth nipped the tender skin below my ear and made me squeak.

“Peter will never look at me the same after today, thanks to you. You've completely undermined my authority.”

I sniffled. “Serves you right.”

He made a low, noncommittal sound and released me at last.

I wiped the tears from my face and then rubbed my arms where he'd held me.

“It's a good thing humans have such weak jaws,” he muttered.

Confused, I turned. He stood there looking down at his hand--the one I'd bitten. There were little indentations from my teeth in the fleshy mound beneath his thumb.

His face was smooth, calm. Thoughtful.

I don't know why, but that pensive look made the last of my anger drain away and left me with only the hurt. A deep, quivering ache in my chest that I didn’t fully understand.

“I wasn't trying to break the skin,” I said. Of course, I wasn't trying not to either, I realized with a flash of chagrin. “Did it hurt?”

He gave me a wry look. “Of course it did.”


He smiled. “I might have enjoyed it under different circumstances.” The little smirk dropped away as his gaze returned to the marks. “If my blood wasn't poison to you, that is.”

I watched his face and wondered about his previous pet. About why she’d bitten him. Why she’d died.

His hand fell to his side and solemn crimson eyes met mine. “I pushed her too far as well.”

The words carried a faint edge of confession. A thread of self-hatred.

My chest tightened. “Why, Loki?” Why do you do this?

His eyelids drooped, guarding his eyes from me. “You're still aroused,” he said. “And I'd rather use our remaining time to satisfy you than to speak of Victoria.”

I flashed hot at the words satisfy you. He'd never phrased it like that before. But I wasn’t ready to let go of that moment of vulnerability yet. And I was too full. Of hurt and confusion--and half a dozen other feelings I couldn’t even identify.

“Why did you bring Peter in here?’ I asked in a low voice. “Why did you make me watch that? And don’t say it’s because I want him. I am so sick of hearing you say that.”

He just looked at me for a few breaths, gaze impenetrable.

Finally, he said, “I wanted you to see how much he enjoys it.”

“Why?” I demanded, eyes pricking again. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

His expression darkened. “We have very little time left, kitten. Is this really how you want to spend it?”

“I want you to talk to me!” I cried. “Stop avoiding my questions and tell me what you want from me!

My vehemence seemed to get through to him. His head pulled back, shoulders dropping minutely. And then, for a brief moment, he opened to me just a crack.

“You know what I want,” he said, low and defeated.

I could see in his eyes that he didn’t expect to get it.

“Loki,” I said, tears streaming now, heart shrinking. “There has to be some kind of compromise.”

His jaw flexed. “No compromise.”

Why?” I cried. “Why can’t you--”

“You’ve had your day,” he interrupted coldly. “And now it’s almost over. Best to enjoy what’s left of it.”

That was it. He’d closed himself up again.

But I couldn’t let it go. “You wanted me to be jealous, so I would be like Peter for you, is that it? So I would submit as he does? Complete, unresisting obedience. Is that the way it has to be?”

He just glared at me, crimson eyes cold. A muscle twitched under his right eye.

“I don’t believe that,” I said angrily, wiping the tears from my chin. “You want me to fight you. And you liked being with me today. Being normal. Making love. It was good.

Again, he said nothing, gaze unflinching, disdainful.

I sniffed, wiped my face again, straightened my back. “I don’t know why you think you have to be this way, Loki, but it’s bullshit. You don’t have to be a monster, you choose to be. And just because I like this--being d-dominated and tortured--” I broke off, fighting for composure. I’d never said the words aloud before, and doing so conjured a wave of painful feelings.

Loki stood like a statue as I took a deep breath and swallowed back my pain and confusion.

Finally, I looked him in the eye again and said, “Just because I like it doesn’t mean I should be happy as your slave. I want more than this. I deserve more. And you could give me that if you tried. If you wanted to.”

Something flickered in his eyes, behind the icy disdain, behind the anger. But when he spoke, his voice was flat and brittle. “What do you think I can give you, kitten? Love?”

“Yes,” I snapped, surprising us both.

His cold expression faltered. I caught a flash of pain in his eyes, there and gone again. 

“This world is in ruins,” he said softly, bewildered. “And you think of love?”

“I didn’t,” I replied. “Not until today.”

God, what am I...what am I doing? Asking Loki to love me? This is crazy!

But I’d done it. And now that the words were out I felt...almost relieved.

The absurdity of it--the sheer impossibility--didn’t matter. He was right. The world was in ruins, and... I had found the will to go on living. Really living, whatever that might mean in a world overrun by vampires.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered, as the realization dawned. “You made me feel alive again when I never expected to…” I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes. “You gave me a reason to go on, and then you made me fight for every ounce of freedom I had left. You brought me back from the brink, Loki. I don’t want to just survive anymore. I want to be happy.”

His eyes gleamed with emotion--too much to make sense of--but his face remained closed. Guarded.

I shook my head. “I know you don’t want the things I want. Maybe it’s stupid to even ask, but--” I looked at his chest, the azure skin, the swirling lines, the muscled torso. His hands, hanging limp at his sides.

Beautiful, so beautiful.

Long, elegant fingers. Those hands had touched me tenderly. Wrenched from me such pleasure, such pain.

“You never should have given me this day,” I whispered, eyes filling again. “It might have lasted a lot longer.”

But I was glad, too.

“How much time do we have?” I asked dully, staring at his chest, suddenly afraid to look into his eyes again. Afraid of what I would see there.

Of what I wouldn’t  see.

“An hour or two,” he murmured.

“And then you’ll let me go.”

It wasn’t a question, but he said, “Yes.”

I nodded numbly. “Thank you.”

There was a long silence. Or maybe it just seemed long, because it was so empty.

And then he said very softly, “I'd like to tie you again. Just this one final time.”

I felt my eyes widen, body jolting with arousal. And pain, too. Longing.

I met his gaze. “You said before that you weren’t going to let me go so easily.”

“I know what I said,” he replied.

“You won’t come after me?” 

His resentment was palpable. “It's your choice to go.”

I nodded slowly. “Right. So that’s it. You’ll tie me up and take what you want from me one last time, and then we’re done.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

What did it matter, anyway? He could still read my thoughts.

“If you should ever come back...” he murmured.

My heart nearly stopped. I looked up at him, “Come back?”

“Yes.” The heat had returned to his eyes. “You know where to find me.”

I stared at him in shock. “You think I’m going to come back to this? After what I just told you?”

“You won’t find anyone else to please you as I do,” he murmured, eyes glittering.

“You prick,” I said softly, not sure whether to laugh, or cry, or maybe slap his stupid smug face.

He stepped close, looming over me, “If you ever do come back,” he purred. “I can promise, I will not hear any protestations. I'll take you where you stand, kitten. I'll whip you until your ass is so raw you can't sit for a week, and then I’ll make you beg for more. I'll make you beg as you've never begged before.”

His eyes were so cold and so hot and so brutal that I couldn't look away or muster a single syllable in response.

“Now, go to the closet and get me the leather cuffs,” he commanded softly.

I couldn’t do it--couldn't submit to him again. Not after everything I’d said. Everything I’d just realized.

He would have to take me.

It was right, somehow, that it should be this way, one last time.

I swallowed hard. Pushed the word out on a voiceless breath. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “I'll have you tied and gagged, kitten. On the floor. Like an animal. And you will enjoy it immensely.”

“No,” I said again, chin up, struggling not to quiver.

His face went dark with temper and the next thing I knew he'd spun me around by the arm and bent me face-down over the counter beside the sink.

My body sang with fear and arousal. I heard the sound of satin tearing. Cool air struck my buttocks, my back. Loki pinned my arms behind me, held at the wrist in one iron-strong hand.

He bent over me and his hair tickled my shoulder blades.

“Loki, ” I whimpered. Not a protest--a fearful welcome.

He bit me on the back of the shoulder at the same moment he thrust inside.

“Slick, ” he growled, licking the blood away, big cock twitching inside me.

And then he thrust so hard it made my skin squeak against the marble countertop.

I came immediately--but I was crying, too, heart breaking.

His thrusts drove my thighs into the edge of the counter with bruising violence. The head of his cock battered my cervix. He bit me again and again. My other shoulder, the backs of my arms, my neck. Licking the blood and making deep, animal sounds.

I came. A second time, and then a third. Crying out hoarsely, toes slipping against the tiled floor. And Loki purred each time, rode me harder, growling a stream of dark, erotic commentary.

This is my sweet little tight for me, kitten. Yes...good girl...come for me. You make me so hard...

And on and on, until I thought I would die from it--from the relentless pleasure of his cock sawing inside me. From the velvet torture his voice.

“Beg me,” he whispered, nearing his peak. “Beg for my pleasure, kittenBeg for my come.”

I couldn't speak, couldn't even muster the strength to look at him in the mirror above me. But the words made me climax again. Made me whimper and shake.

He said it afterwards, too, free hand fisted painfully in my hair, hips snapping.

“Beg for me, kitten.”

I didn't beg, though. Even if I could have. I gritted my teeth and pressed my cheek to the cold stone countertop.

Loki sobbed when he came. Low, breathy, guttural sounds of pleasure that nearly made me come again, too. Sounds that made me feel wildly powerful, even trapped by his hands and his body, battered by his enormous cock.

And I admitted to myself that I wanted to beg. For his pleasure, for his come. For his hands and his mouth and, yes, his punishment, too.

I wanted it all. Pain, pleasure. Humiliation. Captivation. I wanted to fight and be conquered. And I wanted to win, too.

I wanted to be free and a prisoner.

But I couldn't have both, could I?

Chapter Text

Life on the compound was strange at first. And unexpectedly lonely, despite the constant proximity of other human beings.

They put me in a big house with five of the other unattached women on the compound--of which there were less than a dozen total, including me.

They gave me a job, too, working in the massive greenhouse.

It was a difficult adjustment, suddenly being with people. And Loki had kept me on his sleep schedule, which meant I had two weeks of jet lag before I'd gotten used to being up during the day again.

Loki’s little kingdom had once been an exclusive, upper-class suburban neighborhood. The type with electric gates and an eight foot wall all the way around the perimeter.

They’d added barbed wire and floodlights as well, so the whole place was day-bright, even at night, which was, paradoxically, both comforting and unnerving after the darkness of Loki’s chambers.

There were a lot of men on the compound. More than seventy, as it turned out, and almost forty of them unattached. Not one of them approached me, however. At least, not in a flirtatious way.

I didn't wear Loki's collar anymore, but it seemed I still bore some invisible mark of his ownership.

Not that I was complaining. I didn't want any masculine attention. At least, not from my human companions.

I found myself in mourning. It took me a couple days to realize the misery I felt had more to do with Loki than with jet lag and discomfort in my new environment.

I'd thought at least that I would see him sometimes. But a week went by living up top, and then another, and another, and he never showed himself.

One of my housemates, a forty something lesbian named Jo, informed me that Loki came up once a month to check the conditions and meet with the community leaders. Other than that, they never saw him.

We, I mean. We never saw him. I was part of “them” now.

I didn't feel part of them though. I felt adrift. Isolated all over again. Being Loki's pet was like a stigma. People gave me a wide berth. No one tried to get close.

They were nice, in a distant way. I sat at the same community table every night for dinner. Ate the food I'd help to grow, listened to the chatter all around me. But no one asked me questions, tried to get to know me.

After nearly a month of it, I could barely function. People everywhere, smiling, laughing, working, being together. And me on the outside. Not a pariah, just...not one of them.

After Loki's refusal to accept me as a lover instead of a pet this feeling of being unwanted--compounded by my otherness amongst my own kind--seemed to swell inside me and seep into every moment.

It was a worse than isolation, in a way. I felt like a woman starved, staring at an enormous feast--but separated from it by a wall of unbreakable glass.

And no one seemed to notice.





I woke one night near the anniversary of my first month up top and Loki was there in my room.

I couldn't see him--the little nightlight I used to keep the darkness at bay had been switched off. Still, a ghost of light crept in around the edges of the blackout drapes. Just enough that I could discern the unusually deep cluster of shadow in the corner of the room, beyond the foot of my bed.

I looked at that inky spot and just knew.

My heart leapt on a rush of pure adrenaline, and then crimped painfully in my chest.

I'd forgotten--how had I forgotten?--the instant rush of fear and sexual excitement his presence elicited.

My body remembered as though not an hour had passed since the last time he touched me. Heat flooded my limbs, my womb, tingled in my breasts.

Goddammit! My eyes pricked, too. I didn't want to respond to him. I didn't want to want him anymore. The longing was almost too much to bear.

Loki stepped forward, red eyes suddenly piercing the darkness. Lust and possession rolled off him in waves.

He meant to take me.

“Don't you dare,” I rasped, nearly voiceless with sleep and emotion.

He stopped, a pale black figure on a field of darker blackness.

I glared at that tall silhouette with rage and pain--and hunger--vibrating in every cell of my body.

Red eyes faded into the shadows as his skin bled slowly white.

“You called me,” he murmured, with just a hint of defensiveness. “You've been calling.”

I sat up in bed, furious and wounded. “And you thought you'd just come and fuck me in the middle of the night? As though that would make it all better?” I snatched up a pillow and hurled it at him, not thinking, just so angry, hot tears blurring my vision.

He didn't move, of course. The billow bounced harmlessly off his chest, and that made me all the angrier.

“You asshole!” I hissed. “How dare you just show up here like this?! After a month!”

“You called me,” he said again, implacably.

Rage made me turn to reach for something heavier to throw at him. My hand found the tall glass on the bedside table.

“Kitten,” he said. “You can't hurt me. “

I threw the glass anyway and he caught it easily, which made me scream through my teeth in sheer, agonizing frustration.

“I hate you, you sonofabitch! You unbelievable, soul-sucking bastard!


“Get out! Get out, get out, get--!

He came across the room to me in a flash--so fast it ripped the breath right out of my lungs. I flung myself back into the headboard so hard my skull rang like a gunshot against the wood and I saw stars for a moment.

During that moment, Loki lifted me up off the mattress and swung me around.

I screeched again, teeth gritted, sure that he meant to throw me down and fuck me like an animal. But before I could lift my arms to fight him, he'd sat himself on the edge of the bed and plunked me down into his lap, arms banded about my upper body to keep me from hitting him.

I grabbed hold of his forearms and dug my nails in though, screeching, “Let go!”

“No,” he said petulantly, and then pressed his face into my hair.

I struggled for a few seconds, cursing him roundly, driving my heels into his shins and clawing at his arms--to absolutely no effect.

When I finally gave up, his breath shuddered against the back of my neck.

“You can't do this to me anymore, Loki,” I rasped, crying in earnest now. “You can't do this!”

His arms tightened, and I remembered that final scene in the bathroom--how he'd held me as Peter watched in horror.

I let go of the fight--went still in his arms. Defeated.

“It's your fault,” I whispered. “I can't live with you, and I can't live without you.”

“I'm sorry,” he said roughly.

“Are you?” I rasped. “Are you even human enough?”

“I'm not human at all,” he said, turning his cheek against the back of my head. “But you reminded me that I'm still a man.”

He said it like an accusation, voice gravely with emotion.

I'd never heard him sound so vulnerable.

It made me angry that he should suddenly give me that intimacy. “What do you want?” I demanded. “Why are you here?”

Loki didn't respond immediately. In fact, he was silent so long I finally snapped, “Answer me!”

He growled. The sound vibrated up and down my spine, bringing with it a miserable surge of arousal.

“I still want you,” he said. “And you want me. I can't fucking sleep for how loudly you call out for it.”

Is stiffened in his arms. “You honestly think this is about sex? You arrogant, unbelievable--!”

“I've heard all your insults,” he snapped. “It's becoming tiresome.”

“Well if I was strong enough to kick your ass, believe me, you wouldn't hear any more!” I snarled.

He laughed. The bastard laughed, low and warm and--fuck!--unmistakably affectionate.

My temper suddenly threatened to buckle and collapse under a surge of idiotic hope. I struggled against it, against the pleasure of his body, his touch, his breath on the back of my ear.

One of his hands cupped my upper arm very gently, fingers curling into my flesh. “No one talks to me like this,” he said with a disarming mixture of warmth and regret. “No one fights me like you do.”

“Well, they should,” I snapped, tearing up again.

“You're the only one to love me, too.”


Fuck fuck fuck!

That gentle, velvety voice was like a warm caress. Urging me to surrender. To hand my heart over to him.

To believe that he could love me back.

“Don't,” I said in a strangled voice. “Don't pretend to have a heart. You don't.”

“I do,” he said wryly. “Though I convinced myself for quite some time that it wasn't true.”

I heard myself take a quick, trembling breath. “Stop. Just stop.”

He sighed, and then--to my shock--his arms loosened, fell away.

“Go on,” he said. “Hit me if you want to. It won't undo what I've done, but perhaps a little punishment will do us both good.”

I sat there, spine stiff, frozen for the space of a few breaths.

“Punishment,” I repeated blankly, looking back over my shoulder at him. Well, at the shadowy shape of him.

“Mm. It's the least I can do.” His hands found my hips and pushed me gently onto my feet.

I turned to look down at him but his face was too obscured by the darkness for me to read it.

The lamp beside the bed flicked on and made me jump in surprise.

Damned mind reader.

Loki sat there looking up at me, face very serious, eyes crystal blue. “Call it reparation,” he said.

Mistrust and surprise made me flounder. “Reparation?”

He nodded.

“What's that supposed to accomplish?”

One white-skinned hand rose in an aristocratic Je ne sais quoi sort of gesture.

I wanted to slap him, I really did. But I couldn't, not when he was sitting there asking me to.

Stupid. This is stupid.

“Why did you come back?” I demanded, voice quavering. “Stop playing mind games and just tell me.”

His lips compressed. Relaxed again. Finally, he said, “You need me.”

“I need y--!” Outrage stole my voice for a few seconds. The rage came flooding back full force.

I did slap him then--with every ounce of my strength.

I slapped him so hard my hand exploded with pain, electric shocks of it reverberating up my arm clear to the elbow.

“Mother fucker!” I cried, clutching my hand and doubling over. Crying again--almost sobbing. “You--you!--ow, fuck!”

“Yes, ow, indeed,” he said wryly, holding one hand to the cheek I'd struck and then reaching for my injured hand with the other. “Come here, let me--”

“No!” I snarled, jerking away and stumbling across the room towards my desk. “Don't touch me!”

“Kitten,” he began in exasperation, rising to come after me.

I flung one hand out at him in denial, the other still tucked painfully against my belly. Loki stopped immediately and held up his hands in surrender, though his jaw flexed angrily.

I glared at him until he backed away and seated himself on the bed again, eyes glittering with temper.

Then I touched the injured palm--and gasped when it produced a sharp stab of pain. Jesus had I broken my hand on his stupid, chiseled face?

“I will heal it,” he said quietly. “If you'll let me.”

I shot him another glare, though it probably wasn't very threatening with my eyes spilling over like the goddamned niagara falls.

“Y-you can go to hell, Loki,” I grated, voice cracking.

He sighed, thin lips compressing. “You sprained it. It'll only hurt more if you don't let me--”

“I said no!”

His face crimped. “You're being ridiculous.”

Snarling like an animal, I snatched a book off the desk and hurled it at his head.

He knocked it out of the air and growled, “Stop that.”

“What happened to ‘reparation,’ huh?” I sneered. “That didn't last long.”

God, I was acting like a child, but I couldn't seem to stop. I'd tipped over some internal precipice and I was free falling. Every pent up hurt--all the anguish and loneliness, the pain and confusion--had risen up inside me and blasted my self control to shreds.

I turned away from him, not wanting to humiliate myself any further, and slumped one shoulder against the wall beside the desk, fighting not to sob.

I failed.

Behind me, Loki spoke again, all the irritation gone. “I'm sorry,” he said softly.

Jesus, God, he meant it. I could hear it in his voice.

It made me cry harder, for some reason. I cried so hard my breath got stuck in my throat and I felt like I was suffocating.

The sound of my sobbing filled the little room and made me burn with helpless shame.

Loki said my name then--so low I almost didn't hear it. Heavy and aching with regret.

I shook my head, turned further away from him. Pressed my brow against the wall and gasped for breath.

“Kitten. Please.”

So soft. So sweet, those three little syllables. How could he make them so sweet?

That was it. I just... broke. There was no one else to turn to, after all. No other source of comfort.

I turned and stumbled back to him, thrust out my throbbing hand and gasped, “Make it stop,” as though the injury itself were the source of all my suffering.

He looked up at me and took my hand between his own. Green light flared, limning his face, his jaw. Catching in his eyes.

He held my gaze as his hands cupped mine and murmured, “Forgive me.”

I shook my head and rasped, “Y-you don't h-have any right to ask for that.”

“I know.”

“You tortured me!”

“I know.”

The green light died away. I tried to pull my hand back and he held on.

“You lied to me, manipulated me, f-fucked with my head!”

His eyes darkened with regret. “I know.”

All I could do for a few seconds after that was cry, tucking my chin against my chest and fighting not to look at him.

I wanted to fall into his lap again. To be held, comforted--by my own abuser.

My master. My lover. My destroyer.

“I don't understand,” I sobbed, helpless to stop it. “I don't understand why I want you so much!”

I heard him take a breath as though to speak, but he didn't. He tugged on my hand and I fell into him helplessly, curled up in a ball against his chest. Cried and cried like the world was ending all over again.

And it was, in a way.

Three years, one hundred and fifty five days of misery came bursting out of me during the handful of minutes I sat there sobbing in his lap.

Maybe even more.

It felt like a whole lifetime of anguish bleeding out of me. Like losing everything I'd never mourned all over again.

Later, I would recognize this as the moment the person I'd been--the me that I'd clung to since the world had ended--finally died and took with her every trauma, every scar, every loss. All the little shards of anguish left over from a life I'd never truly lived.

At the end I felt like an empty husk.

I remember vaguely that Loki picked me up, tucked me into bed--and the sensation of his hand in my hair.

I slept without dreaming.

Chapter Text

I woke to find the room still dark, though the bright square of light around the drapes told me it was well past morning.

I sat up, head heavy, groggy, wondering why no one had come to wake me for breakfast.

Then I remembered.

An instant later I saw his silhouette slumped in my little desk chair, long legs splayed wide.

I leaned over and turned on the lamp.

He sat there leaning on one elbow, head propped in his hand, eyes open and already trained tiredly on my face.

He looked...subdued. Broad shoulders slumped in exhaustion or defeat. Or both.

The house was quiet. Everyone else had gone. My breakfast sat beside him on the desk--a plate of eggs and toast, a mug of coffee, undoubtedly gone cold. The clock beside the lamp said it was past noon.

I looked at Loki again, realizing with delayed surprise that I felt no automatic rush of fear and arousal at the sight of him.

“You're still here,” I said hoarsely.

His eyes were very blue again. “I stayed too long after you fell asleep,” he said. “The sun came up.”

“Right.” I felt bizarrely calm. “You can't go out in the sun at all?”

He lifted his head from his hand and let his arm drop across his lap. “Not without considerable discomfort.”


An awkward silence followed. His gaze remained steady. He was waiting for something. I was, too, though I didn't know what.

The whole room--the moment itself--seemed suspended. Unsure of itself. Of what it ought to become.

Or maybe that was

The silence stretched as I grappled with the strange calm inside me, turning it over, trying to figure out where it came from. Why my body didn't respond to him, didn't ache for him. Why my heart and breath didn't speed. It was like some spell had been broken.

Loki's gaze became shuttered.

“You didn't sleep, did you?” I asked, to fill the silence.

“No,” he said dismissively.

I looked at the breakfast tray. My housemates would have brought it to him--at his demand. Which of course meant they knew he'd been in my room most of the night.

“They must have heard us fighting.” I touched the back of my head where it had struck the headboard, expecting to find a knot. There was nothing. No pain, either. Loki had healed that, too. “I'm surprised they didn't come to investigate.”

“I put a sleep spell on the whole house when I arrived,” he said. “They heard nothing.”

“Oh. Right. That's good, then.”

Loki didn't respond, just watched me as I recounted last night's events and tried to figure out where I stood with him.

“Why did you stay?” I asked without thinking.

His gaze slid away, became hooded. “I don’t know.”

I sighed. Be honest, Loki.

He shot me a glare. “That was honest.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Fine. I wanted to stay. Is that better?”

My heart fluttered just a little--a mere ghost of the response those words would have inspired yesterday. “I guess.”

The silence stretched. Loki kept his head turned slightly away, brows drawn together in irritation.

I took the moment to look at him--to really look. His face and hair, the broad shoulders, the lean torso under that black silk shirt. The muscular thighs, encased in black leather. And his hands, relaxed on his thighs. Elegant, beautiful--every inch of him.

But I felt nothing more than confusion and a faint hint of longing.

“I need you to tell me the truth now,” I said quietly. “No more lies.”

Blue eyes swung around to my face again, angry, but resigned, too. He nodded once.

“Was there a spell, all this time?” I asked softly. “Did you make me want you?”

He held my gaze. “No.”

“Swear to me, Loki,” I demanded.

“I swear,” he growled. “Not after that first time.”

His eyes bored into mine, as though he would make me believe by sheer force of will. And he could make me believe it, if he really wanted to. But there was no nudge. No ghost of his thrall tickling my mind.

For just a moment we were in his darkened bathroom together again, sharing the memory of my first submission. That pleasure. And the terror, too.

“Would you have used one, if I hadn't wanted you?” I asked.

He didn't answer, just glared at me.

“This is your last chance to be honest with me, Loki. I don't know what difference it will make, but if you still want me--”

“Yes.”  The syllable was clipped, sharp. Vibrating with resentment and self-hatred. “I would have used a spell,” he said. “I would have used anything.”

My heart began to beat faster. Something solidified between us then--a connection that hadn't been there before.

He'd given up the cruel master persona. For good. It had no place between us anymore. And strange calm began to crack--threatened to crumble. That hint of longing blossomed. Kindled inside me.

This was Loki, talking to me now. The real Loki. My chest tightened.

This was the man I'd seen glimpses of on our last day together. The man who'd made love instead of dominating. The man who'd confessed to withholding his kisses just to make me want them more.

Longing bled into the slow warmth of desire.

It hurt though, in a dull, hopeless sort of way. The pain of dreams broken--dreams you never really expected to come true.

“Did you do that to your other pets?” I asked. “Use mind control and magic to make them submit to you?”

His gaze went dark and slid away. “Yes.”

My heart was pounding now in earnest, throat tight. “Did you do that to Peter?”

The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Yes. In the beginning.”

“Why, Loki?”

His teeth flashed in a bitter, humorless smile. “Because I was alone.”

Six little syllables. Acrid with loneliness. Rage, too. The creeping madness of isolation.

They burned me.

“Did you do that to Victoria?” I asked softly.

He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

I swallowed. “Why did she bite you, Loki?”

His body tipped forward just a fraction, as though the words had struck an invisible blow.

He said my name. Softly, like a plea. A weapon that drew hunger instead of blood.

“I need you to tell me,” I said. “I need to know.”

Finally he murmured, “She wanted to die,” and then he looked at me--eyes stark and icy blue--waiting for my judgement.

It was no surprise, but the words still left me cold. “You said before that you pushed her too far.”

He nodded, lips curving in a small, bitter smile. “She despised me. And herself for wanting me.”

“You loved her,” I said.

He gave me a hooded look, mouth thinning into cruel line. “I suppose I did. The way one loves a favorite toy.”

I didn't want to believe it. “Loki…”

His expression hardened. “You want honesty? Here it is; I wanted to destroy her. You. All of them.”

My shock must have shown.

His anger faltered, coldness cracking, showing the wounded man beneath. He shook his head quickly, leaned forward in his chair and put his face in his hands. “I didn't the time...I swear, I didn't know what I was doing. Not consciously.”

I looked at his black curls, heart shrinking, and said, “I get it. You think you're a monster. You were trying to prove yourself right.”

His shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing.

“How many of them died?”

“Just Victoria,” he whispered. “I let the others go--except for the ones that wanted to stay.”

“You let them go,” I repeated. “You mean, they live up here, now?”

After a brief hesitation, he nodded.

“How many?”

Another hesitation. “Only one,” he said, “Only one that didn't return.”

“Me, you mean.”

He lifted his head and slumped back slowly into the chair, nodding dully.

“You know why they all came back, don't you?”

Again he nodded, not looking at me, lashes shielding his eyes. “I can't control how the humans think of me. Nor how they judge you.”

“You knew they would shun me,” I said.


Anger surged inside me. “You knew I never had a chance up here. You knew.”

Finally, he met my gaze. “Yes.”

There was regret in his voice and on his face, but no apology.

I had no tears left after last night or I would have cried.

“I need you to leave now,” I said softly. “I need to be alone.”

He looked at me for a long time, gaze unflinching--angry, miserable, ashamed--then he rose and went to the door.

“Loki,” I said as he took hold of the knob.

He paused without looking back.

“Why weren't you satisfied with Peter? He wants you. He even loves you, I think.”

Loki's head tilted down a fraction. “He doesn't love me. He loves what I do to him.”

I wondered, in that moment--and for the first time--if I was the same.

“Do you still want to hurt me?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

His hand flexed on the doorknob. “Yes.”

“Even if I fought you?”

“Especially then.”

I looked at his back and forced the next words out. “Even if I didn't want it anymore?”

His head tilted down again. “Yes. I would still want to.”

My heart rose just a little. “But you wouldn't?”

He shook his head, turned the knob and opened the door. Then he paused standing, halfway in the hall, and looked back--though not far enough to meet my gaze.

“I would try,” he murmured.

And then he left me there to think about whether or not I believed him.


It was four days until I saw him again. Four days of silent frustration and confusion.

Word of my late night visitor had spread on the compound. My roommates hardly spoke to me any more. Some of the townsfolk looked at me with disgust in their eyes.

They hated him. And they hated that they were beholden to him for the safety and comfort he provided.

They hated me as well, for being his whore.

So, after four days of increased isolation and internal turmoil, I walked out to the commune--avoiding the bright pools from the floodlights--and stood in the shadows just beyond the greenhouse.

And then I called him.

He appeared within seconds, like a goddamned ghost; a darker shadow that split from the rest, solidifying into a man with white skin and cautious blue-green eyes.

The sight of him brought anger and relief in equal measure. The reason for my loneliness, and the only relief from it.

“I hope you have something to say to me,” I told him.

He came to me slowly, almost hesitant, stopping at a respectful distance with the light from behind me just kissing his face--enough that I could see his eyes and read the guarded emotion there.

“You're still angry,” he said.

I laughed bitterly. “Slavery or isolation. Those are my only choices. Because of you. Wouldn't you be angry?”

He said nothing, just stared at me, handsome face expressionless.

“These people despise me.” My voice trembled. “I can't escape you.” And I don't want to.

“Then don't,” he said.

I shook my head. “I'm not going to be your slave anymore, Loki. I'd rather go back to my rooftop.”

“You'll die,” he said. “Alone.”

“I'm dying here!” I cried, voice like a whip crack against the quiet night.

Loki didn't flinch or react at all. He said quietly, “I can't undo what I did.”

“No,” I replied, tears threatening, “You can't.”

So what now?

He shifted as though to step closer, but seemed to think better of it. His chest rose and fell with a heavy breath, though I heard nothing.

“I was made to kneel once as well,” he said gravely. “To submit unwillingly.”

I blinked at him, startled--no, stunned--by the confession.

Loki went on, unphased. “Thanos used pain and humiliation as well. In a different way--but to the same effect.”

He paused, as though waiting for a response.

“Why are you telling me this?” I rasped, pain and anger swirling inside me.

He shook his head as though he didn't have an answer. “Perhaps I was trying to undo what he did to me by...subjugating you. And the others.”

“I hope you don't think that's an excuse,” I snapped.

“No,” he said, eyes flashing angrily. “I asked myself if I could forgive him. Trust him again after everything he did to me. If I could do what I'm asking of you.”

My temper faltered under another flash of shock. “Is that what you're asking of me?”

This time I did hear his sigh. “Can I?” he murmured. “It would be a selfish request.”

“Loki…” I began, off balance now. Confused by his vulnerability.  A dull ache started in my chest. “What exactly do you want from me?”

He turned one hand up in a gesture of helpless questioning. “You can't give me what I've already taken by force, can you?”

“No,” I said, though the question was rhetorical.

“And I can't be a normal man for you,” he said. “So what's left?”

“Nothing,” I rasped, vision blurring with hopeless tears.

Trapped, I'm trapped.

“I can give you something, though,” he said. And now he did come closer. Slowly, eyes dark and glittering with emotion.

He stopped within arms reach and I tilted my head back to hold his gaze.

“What?” I whispered.

“Exactly what I took from you.” His gaze flicked down, lighted on my mouth for a moment, and then rose to my eyes again. “If you want that.”

The world might have stopped turning in that moment. It might have ended all over again, and somehow it would have been right.

I pushed the syllables past my lips with almost no breath behind them. “What are you saying?”

“I don't know…” he began softly, “I don't know if you can...If it would even...” He shook his head and looked down, lifting his right hand between us. Green light blossomed from his upturned palm.

At first I wasn't sure what I was looking at. A pair of complex, woven metallic rings appeared in his hand, each one about the size of a large bangle bracelet, but very thick and engraved with intricate, swirling rune-like markings.

“What--?” I started. Then I saw a hinge and the near-invisible seam in the metal just opposite. And I knew.

My head, my heart, the air in my lungs--everything seemed to turn to stone.

“These are the shackles Thanos used on me,” he said in a low, still voice. “They're spelled. To repress my specific gifts, to dull my strength.”

He held the shackles out to me.

I didn't take them. I felt frozen. Poised on some treacherous precipice.

I looked up at him, wide eyed.

“He let me keep them,” Loki continued in that low, heavy voice, gaze shuttered but direct.  “As a reminder.”

Mother of… Loki had offered me the collar when I'd left him. As a souvenir, he'd said smugly.

“You bastard,” I croaked, tears leaking slowly from the corners of my eyes.

Expression twisting briefly with bitterness, he rasped, “Take them. Please.”

His eyes glittered with unshed tears.

“I hate you,” I said, voice breaking. But I took them. They were cold in my hand--unexpectedly light.

“I know,” he replied as his arm fell back to his side.

“Why are you doing this?”

He gave me that shuttered look. “You know why.”

My fingers tightened on the cold metal rings. “I want you to say it.”

“I want you,” he grated. “I want to save you from--” he gestured angrily to the compound behind me, “--this.”

“You love me,” I said.

His extended arm froze briefly in the air as he looked at me, expression blank.

“Say it,” I demanded. I needed him to say it. Needed to know that it wasn't just me.

Slowly, that extended arm returned to his side.

He licked his lips.

“Say it, or I'm going to throw these cuffs right back in your face.”

He took a breath. “I love you.”

The words were like a knife in my heart. I heard myself sob once--a quick, angry sough--and then--

“Beg me.”

The two syllabled dropped from my lips and fell in to sudden, vibrating silence. Loki’s eyes widened fractionally. The night seemed to go very still around us.

I was painfully aware of the cuffs in my left hand--metal warming slowly against my skin--and my pounding heart.

And unwanted desire, quick and hot, boiling up from my core.

He won't do it, I thought wildly, This is it. This is the end.

Loki stood there absolutely motionless, eyes gone vibrant green, face utterly blank.

“For what?” he asked softly.

Oh, God. What am I doing? What am I--?

“My kiss,” I heard myself say, in a voice like grinding gears.

The muscles in his face shifted almost imperceptibly, but I saw it--the flicker of denial, the flash of hunger.

Slowly--holding my gaze with steady green eyes--he knelt at my feet, shoulders stiff, spine erect, jaw tight. Eyes gleaming with desire and resistance.

He looked beautiful, even on his knees. Maybe more so than ever before.

And still, I hated him.

Because you love him, a little voice whispered inside me.

My head began to swim. Tears blinded me and I blinked them rapidly away.

Loki tilted his head back to look at me, white throat exposed. Vulnerable.

“Please,” he said--softly, so softly.

The word brought a quick stab of arousal. My pussy began to throb.

“Again,” I rasped, heart cracking.

“Please,” he said. “Kiss me.”

I closed my eyes, wanting to double over, to crumble into the grass and cry.

“Say my name,” I whispered.

He said it, unhesitating. Like a caress--a benediction.

I did double over then, and stumbled back from him as well. Sat with a graceless plop in the grass a few feet away and sobbed.

“This is all I can do,” he said, near whisper. “To put the balance back.”

“No,” I rasped, nearly incoherent. “You can't fix this, Loki! You just want me to be like you! Another fucking monster!”

“Yes,” he said calmly, eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

If I had been standing, the words would have knocked me back a step. “What?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “You be the monster this time.” And I'll be the victim, hung in the air, unspoken.

Part of me balked immediately. That part was horrified. Sickened by the thought of it--not just of what he was asking me to do, but of what I might become if I accepted.

Because another part of me rose up like dark water around a sinking boat. A part that stunned me.

A part that wanted what he offered. That wanted to see him kneeling, groveling. Crying as I had cried. Begging as I had begged.

Drowning as I had drowned--in pain and pleasure. In shamed surrender.

In searing, unwanted love.

“This is not about me, though, is it?” I asked, garbled with tears and anger. “You just can't bear to let me go. You can't bear to lose.”

“You're right,” he replied unflinchingly. “I can't. Not this time. Not you.”

I didn't understand his calm--it made me feel vicious, desperate. I lurched to my feet, came across the grass and struck him once, quickly, across the face.

His head snapped to one side and his eyes slid closed.

“This is another game to you, isn't it?” I snarled. “How long can you keep this up, Loki? You could overpower me right now, fuck me here on the ground. There's nothing and no one to stop you!”

“Put the shackles on me,” he said, holding up his wrists. “I'll be as good as helpless.”

“Why?” I hissed. “I’m not like you! What do you think I'm going to do?”

“You are,” he said calmly. “You're exactly like me.”

I hit him again, without thinking. My hand burned and ached. His cheek began to redden.

I'm not like you!

“You are,” he murmured. “Alone. Like me. Lost. Scrabbling in the dark for something to live for. To fill the emptiness."

My stomach dropped. "Don't try to make yourself a victim in all this."

"I'm not," he said. "You asked for honesty."

Not like this! Not this

I wiped my eyes roughly, fighting the compassion that rose inside me. I didn't want to see myself in him. And yet I did.

“Do you like pain, too?” I demanded. “Do you want to be dominated, humiliated, fucked like me? It that why you're doing this?”

“No,” he said. “But it's the only way.”

And then he lifted his wrists to me again.

"Please," he whispered. "Take me."

The surrender in his eyes undid me. I didn't think. I made no conscious decision to do it, but I heard the soft metallic click-click and looked down, knowing what I would see--seeing it as though from very far away: my hands on his wrists, the cuffs trapped between my skin and his. Latched.

I let go and his arms fell slowly to his sides. I couldn't look at his face for some reason, so I stared into the shadows behind him.

Far away, far away. Take me away from this.

“Leave. Now,” I heard myself say.

He didn't move. Finally, I did look at him.


His surprise gratified me. I watched him struggle not to protest. Not to argue, to refuse.

My blood rushed in my veins with pure adrenaline. I was terrified he would refuse. And yet I knew he wouldn't.

He'd given me the cuffs and let me put them on him. He'd admitted he loved me.

And he was looking up at me now with eyes full of hunger and denial. And… fear.

Loki was afraid. Maybe as afraid as I had been--as I still was, under all the pain and anger. For the first time, I understood that he was just as confused as I, just as lost in all this. Every bit as trapped by our connection as I was.

Suddenly, I felt cold. Calm.


If he wanted to be punished, I would punish him.

“Get out of my sight,” I said softly.

He rose, looking down at me for a few heartbeats with stark animal hunger fighting behind his eyes.

Then he turned, silent and stiff, and he went.

Chapter Text

I went back to my room and cried. The next day, I got up with the household like normal at 7am, ate breakfast at table with four other women who barely even looked at me, worked in the greenhouse for four hours, and then returned to my room to cry some more after lunch.

And then I called him.

It was just past 12:30pm.

He didn't come.

I didn't return to my greenhouse duties. Nor did I go to supper when 5pm rolled around. I stayed in my room. Slept. Cried. Wrote furiously in the little journal I got from the commissary my first week up top.

I didn't write about Loki. I wrote about my life before the end. About the English degree I hadn't finished. People I'd lost to the virus. My mom. My dad. My friends. The things I'd dreamed about doing. Places I'd dreamed about going.

Everything Loki had taken from me.

And when he appeared just after sunset wearing white skin and soft blue eyes, I looked up from my little desk and said in a cold, angry voice, "You're late."

He stood in the doorway as though waiting for an invitation to enter. "The sun was out," he said neutrally.

I looked at his wrists. The metal cuffs peeked from his black silk sleeves. "You didn't take them off."

He glanced at the journal lying open in front of me.  "I can't."

"Why not?"

"They'll only open for the one who put them on me."

I didn't speak for a few seconds, thinking about what that meant.

Was Loki really mine to command? Had he really given me that power?

Did I want to command him?

Yes, a voice whispered. Make him kneel again. That was good.

"You said they control your powers," I said. "But you're still wearing your mask."

His jaw flexed. "It's not a mask. It's a form. You locked me in it when you put the cuffs on me."

I felt a little flicker of disappointment. "You can't turn blue right now?"

His eyelids drooped, irises bleeding slowly green as he looked at me. "Is that how you want me?"

That seductive tone made my hackles rise. "It's too late for that now."

The heat in his gaze dwindled as he realized I wasn't talking about his form. "Too late for what?"

"Seduction," I grated. "You could have seduced me. In the beginning. Without magic or mind control."

The truth of it hung heavily between us.

His broad shoulders dropped minutely, white hands limp at his sides. "I know," he said softly. "But I didn't realize until...much too late."

I let silence fill the space between us.

Just a handful of feet. I could get up. Go to him. Kiss and touch him. He would let me.

I wanted to. Ached to.

But I was so angry.

I pointed to the carpet at my feet. Loki's gaze followed.


His chest expanded. The soft hiss of his breath brought a spike of desire, heat pooling low in my body.

My heart pounded with anxiety. Part of me still expected him to balk and refuse. And if he did...

There was nothing else left for us.

Loki crossed the room to me in four measured, ponderous steps. He looked down at me. My heart rose into my throat.

And then he sunk slowly to his knees. Stiff and resigned. Handsome face blank.

"Do you enjoy this?" I asked, hurting now. Furious with him for submitting. Furious with  myself for wanting it.

He closed his eyes. "No."

I looked at the bulge growing behind his fly. "Then why are you aroused?"

"You arouse me," he murmured.

Heat pulsed between my legs. Burned along my veins. Pain and desire tangled together inside me.

I had no idea what I was doing. No idea at all--stumbling in the dark.

But I wasn't the prey anymore. I didn't have to run and hide this time. That felt good.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" I asked, startled by the timbre of my own voice. I sounded cruel. Cold. Like him.

No, not him. The role he'd played. The master. The monster.

I felt like something was falling apart inside me--some inner seams unravelling. Parts of myself never before acknowledged threatening to tumble out into the light.

Parts I never wanted to see.

Why is it always this way with him?

"Answer me," I demanded.

Loki swallowed, eyes still closed. "Yes."

When he looked up at me again, the resistance was there in his eyes. The anger, the shame.

And the hunger, too.

My pussy began to throb. The hunger his subjugation inspired horrified me. Infuriated me.

It also made me feel powerful.

"Tell me what you want from me," I said.

That seemed to take him aback, though his reticence showed only as a little flicker of a frown.

“Punish me," he murmured.

I glared, though his words brought another shocking flush of anger and sexual excitement. "That's not what I asked."

Again, he swallowed. Licked his lips, green eyes glowing with lust and restrained aggression. "I want to fuck you," he said in a low voice. "I want to fuck your mouth and drink the slick from your pussy and taste your orgasm on my tongue."

The breath seemed to burn in my lungs. Electric bolts of pleasure shocked my womb. Memories of his touch flooded me. His cock in my mouth, his lips and tongue drawing at my sex.

I wanted that. I wanted it still. Loki panting over me, driving me into the mattress with his thrusts, red eyes glowing like twin flames. I even wanted the pain. Missed the wicked torment of his teeth in my flesh, his hands bruising me.

But I couldn't submit to him now. Not anymore. Maybe never again.

My heart cracked at the thought and rage flooded in, deeper than before.

"Still not what I asked," I growled.

"I want you to use me," he said. "However you want."

All that was left for us was this. This...twisted reversal; his submission and the cruelty it called forth in me.

"Open your pants," I said, hating myself. Hating him.

His hands rose slowly to obey. Dread and excitement painted his features, mirroring the queasy tension that rested like a knot in my solar plexus.

His cock was very pale against the black silk and leather he wore. Pale and stiff, gracefully curved. Beautiful as ever.

"Touch yourself," I rasped.

He did. Slowly. Gaze downturned and face very stark.

I said nothing for a while, watching his hand move up and down that silky column. Once again gripped by the memory of it in my hands, my mouth. The pain of it stretching every orifice of my body. The pleasure.

His breath began to speed, chest and belly hitching as he neared orgasm.

I watched the head of his cock darken as it suffused with blood.

He made a sound--low and breathless--and his gaze rose to my legs, my body. Settled on my face with a look of desperate pleasure.

"Stop," I said, just as the orgasm began to blossom in his eyes.

His hand froze, cock twitching between his fingers. Right on the edge.

So close, so close.

"Put it away," I said.

Confusion drew his brows together. He took his hand from his cock and stared at me.

"Put. It. Away," I hissed.

Green eyes hardened. Slowly, he tucked himself into his pants and zipped them up.

"Now go home."

His eyes widened. "Kitte--"

"Go," I snapped.

His teeth clicked together. There was a charged, electric moment of silence. Loki glared up at me with denial and aggression crackling in the air all around him.

Panic sped my blood again, quick and cold. If he refused to obey…

But he didn't.

Eyes narrowed dangerously, he rose and stood there looming over me. "Am I allowed to please myself in your absence?" he asked in a silky, mocking voice.

"No," I snapped. "Come back tomorrow at sunset."

He didn't budge. "Will you let me touch you tomorrow?"

The question surprised me, though the answer came readily enough.


His eyes glowed with resentment, but he turned away, went to the door.

"Bring the quirt," I said to his back.

He paused just outside the doorway when the words reached him, and again, my heart leapt with anxiety.

But he didn't turn back. Didn't speak. He left, closing the door almost soundlessly behind him.

The next day I said nothing when he stepped into the room, nor when he came to me and placed the quirt across my lap.

I just glared at him until he sunk to his knees at my feet.  

He was calmer today. Eyes more blue than green. Face almost serene as he waited for my first order.

His unrequested deference gave me a bright little spurt of pleasure--and an even bigger spurt of shame. The two feelings muddied each other terribly. Left me feeling confused and queasy again.

His debasement was almost worse for me than my own had been. Was it because I loved him? Because I'd accepted my desire to be dominated by him?

I had no answer, but it felt wrong to be the one in control. Wrong, and good, and utterly terrifying.

I made him touch himself just the same way, almost to orgasm. But that was it.

He wasn't surprised this time when I told him to stop, though his eyes flashed. Lust, anger, regret. Love, too. All of it warring inside him.

It was right that we should both be so conflicted.

The quirt felt inexplicably heavy in my hand, wooden handle smooth and cool.

I couldn't use it. The thought of beating him filled me with horror.

So I just looked at him a while, holding the slender tool in a white-knuckle grip.

And then I told him to leave.

This time, he didn't even glare.

It went on like that for nearly a week. Every time the same. I held the quirt in my lap and watched him touch himself. And I ached for him. To touch him. To feel him inside me.

To hurt him, too. Make him feel the same torment he'd forced upon me.

But I couldn't, for some reason. I didn't know how, and the quirt felt like a loaded gun. Much more dangerous than it was.

Until the sixth night.

He didn't stop when I told him to. He kept on stroking, holding my gaze as he shuddered and came. Telling me with his eyes that he was imagining it was me touching him, taking his cock into my body. Giving him pleasure.

I didn't think. I was so angry, I just lashed out.

The quirt made a sharp, ringing snap! as it struck his moving arm.

He grunted, cock still jumping, spurting come onto the floor at my feet.

But his hand kept moving.

"Loki!" I snarled, and then hit him again, this time on the upper arm. Again, he grunted but didn't stop, green eyes glazed with pleasure and defiance.

I hit him four times. Once on the wrist, the forearm. Once on the bicep, and then the shoulder, each blow harder and more desperate than the last.

He grunted each time, eyes glowing green, flinching only minutely as the leather tongues landed.

I was crying by the time the fourth blow found its mark. My hand felt almost numb on the quirt handle.

"I'm not a sadist!" I cried, standing over him now, shaking with rage and misery. "I don't like this!"

Loki sat back on his heels, pants gaping obscenely, cock glistening with come.

"I know," he said quietly.

I threw the quirt on the floor, furious, distraught. "I don't want to hit you!"

"I know," he repeated, looking up at me.

"So why are you making me do this?!"

"I'm not," he whispered. "I'm not making you do anything. Ever again."

The finality of that statement stunned me. I hear a soft thud and realized I'd stepped back hard enough to knock the chair over.

"You don't mean that," I rasped.

"I do," he said, with unmistakable conviction.

"You're a liar!"

"Yes," he murmured. "But I'm not lying now."

I wiped tears from my face with the sleeve of my shirt. "I don't believe you."

He held my gaze. "You will."

"You said you will always want to dominate me. You said that would never change."

"It won't," he said. "But you can submit willingly. For real, this time."

"I did!" I cried, utterly ashamed. "I wanted it!"

The pain in his eyes made me want to slap him again. Then he said gravely, "I didn't give you a choice."

"That doesn't change the fact that I wanted it!" I nearly screamed.

"I wanted it, too."

I stilled, blinking at him stupidly. Agony suddenly doused.

Four words. Spoken with such weight. Such regret. And something else. A muted plea.

I saw it then. Finally, I understood what he'd been trying to tell me--to show me with his submission.

We were the same. Not just in our mutual isolation, but in our darkness, too. And if I could accept it--if I let myself accept him--there would be...comfort.

"Aren't you ashamed?" I whispered, anger gone. Cruelty gone. "Doesn't it frighten you?"

"Yes," he said. "But it changes nothing. I am as I am. There's no escaping it."

"But how can you live like this?" I rasped. How can I live like this?

He shrugged slowly. "What alternative is there? I want this life, barren as it is. I'll take whatever pleasure I can from it."

I had no response. I could only think of that moment in his bathroom--the first time he'd fucked me. His cruelty and the pleasure he'd given me.

I'd submitted to it. Accepted the what he offered--because I wanted to live. I wanted to feel something good again. Anything.

And that hadn't changed.

I looked down at the God of Mischief. Sleek black curls tumbling over his shoulders. Pale face turned up to me, pants open, hands limp on his folded thighs. Silver cuffs peeking around his wrists.

Vulnerable. Exposed. Willingly debased.

He'd done this to himself for the same reasons I'd agreed to be his pet--all his manipulations aside.

Survival. Companionship. Pleasure.

And love. Don't forget love.

"I get it," I said softly. "I get it now."

His eyes filled with relief. Glowed with love and hunger. "Let me show you how good it feels," he murmured. "Use me, kitten. You don't have to hurt me physically to take back your power."

I wiped more tears away. Sniffled loudly. "I'm not a Dominatrix, Loki. I don't know how to do that."

He smirked a little. "You've been tormenting me quite effectively all week."

My heart did a funny little jitter. "I didn't enjoy it, though. Not the way you enjoy it."

"You could have ordered me to pleasure you," he replied. "Didn't you think of that?"

I blinked at him. "No...I...did not."

"Well, think about it."

I stepped back from him slowly, bent and righted the chair. "You want me to…?"

His eyes glowed with anticipation. "Yes."

I looked down at the chair, and then back to Loki.

His cock jumped. Began to rise. His eyes became hooded. "Command me."

Lust pulsed between us. Longing cranked up to its highest volume.

I turned toward him again. Sat slowly in the chair.

"I still don't trust you," I said softly, heart pounding.

He nodded once, fingers curling against his thighs. His expression hardened with determination, though. There was an unmistakable glow of possession in his gaze, too. Familiar, unexpectedly gratifying.

He wouldn’t give up. It was clear on his face. In the line of his shoulders. His stillness.

"What happens if this works, Loki?” I asked softly, “What happens if I forgive you?"

His answer was immediate. "You come back."

I blanched. "You mean to be your p--"

"No," he said quickly. "Unless you want that."

My body announced that it did, though my heart and mind shrunk painfully at the thought.

"It wouldn't be the same," he said quietly. "It doesn't have to be."

Heart aching, I stared at him and wondered if that was true. If it was even possible for us to coexist without...victimization.

"Let me try," he murmured. "Please."


God, the effect of that word in his voice, said with such sincerity…

"You already know what I want," I said.

He nodded. His cock was completely hard now.

I glared into bright green eyes. "You're not to touch me unless I say so."

Again, he nodded.

I took a deep breath. Gazed at the heavy curve of his cock, letting the desire flood freely through my body. Giving it free reign.

Anticipation made my heart flutter. Fear, too. Always the fear.

But I would command him, I decided.

I would command him, and if he obeyed… perhaps...there was hope.

Even if there wasn’t…

"Come and suck me, Loki," I murmured. "Make it good."


Chapter Text

He did make it good. Every day for three weeks, he made it good.

On his knees between my legs. Sometimes while I sat in the chair, or on the bed. Sometimes while I stood leaning against the edge of the desk.

I liked looking down at him. At his mouth on me. He beautiful face almost beatific. Eyes flashing up at me from time to time, bright with restrained aggression. With powerful, dominating lust.

But he behaved himself.

I made him do it with his hands behind his back, at first. No restraints but his will and those magic silver cuffs. And I never touched him. Never returned the pleasure he gave me. I let him bring himself afterwards though. Sometimes. After I'd had my pleasure.

I pushed him hard, too. Did everything I could to entice him. Lifted my pussy to his mouth. Moaned and shivered as I came, calling out his name. Told him how I enjoyed the sensation of his tongue on my clit. Directed him to suck and then to lick. Touched my breasts with utter shamelessness. Trying to push him over the edge. To shatter his self control.

I could admit even then that I wanted him to lose control. I wanted him to fuck me again. Not just to prove to us both that it would never work--that he couldn't be trusted--but also because… a part of me still wanted to return to that state of helpless submission.

Of being battered by his lust. By his cock. Lost to the misery and pleasure of being his pet.

But he never broke.

There were times he looked at me as though he'd take me in a rage, but each time he simply shuttered his gaze, looked away.

I underestimated his commitment. His desperation.

It really was life and death for us. Survival. He'd admitted it himself.

Loki needed me. As much as I needed him.

I made him pay for that. Day in and day out. Almost a month, I punished him.

But I paid for it, too. With longing, and with terror; wanting him to be as he had been and equally terrified that he would return to it.

It was a battle between us.

In the end, I'm not even sure who won.


I didn't know I was going to do it, when the day came.

Loki was there in my room. Kneeling at my feet as I sat on the edge of the bed.

I let him lean against my knee that day. I'd never done that before, though he'd tried it more than once.

And when he kissed the bare skin just above the crease of the opposite knee, I should have been angry. I hadn't given him permission to touch me. But the weight of his head...the silky brush of his mouth...the awful, wonderful tenderness of it.

I broke.

"Lay down."

He looked up, eyes widening in simple surprise. My voice was low, hard. I'd never said those words to him before.

"On your back," I commanded, throat tight. Body humming.

Loki shuffled back a few feet and arranged himself obediently on the floor, face carefully blank, eyes hooded.

I rose and stood over him in my nightshirt and panties.

"Look at me," I demanded.

His gaze rolled reluctantly towards me and I held it for a long time, reading him; the heat that said, I want you beneath me. Bound and helpless. Crying. Sobbing. Begging.

He'd learned to hide that look because it made me vicious. I'd become the consummate torturer, trying to antagonize him into dominating me again.

But I wasn't thinking of torture now.

"Hands above your head."

That steady gaze flickered. His arms rose almost ponderously to rest against the carpet just above his head.

My heart was pounding. I'd begun to feel breathless.

"Don't. Move."

I growled it. The way he would have, when I wore his collar.

Loki swallowed audibly, green eyes trained on my face, pupils wide and impossibly dark.

I saw the agreement on his face; the near-imperceptible release of minute muscles around his eyes, in his jaw.

Surrender. Submission.

I didn't think. One minute I stood over him glaring, and the next I sat straddling his thighs, tearing at the fly of his leather pants.

He made a sound when I pulled it out--when my fingers closed almost punishingly around his shaft.

But there was no time to look at his face--to read the shock or anticipation that must have shown there. To gauge whether that sound had been one of pleasure or pain.

"Don't touch me," I hissed.

My body was on fire.

I lifted myself. Don't even remember yanking my panties aside.

I came the moment his cock hit bottom inside me.

Loki cried out. I heard it over my own cry--his hoarse little sob of pleasure.

His hands jerked up off the floor as the orgasm struck me. I slapped them away.

I screeched at him, too. A wordless, animal threat.

His hands fell back to the carpet just as I began to ride him in earnest, one orgasm still fading from my senses as the next began to swell inside me.

The second time, I looked right into his face.

Green eyes rolled back as I came. Riding him roughly, whimpering and shuddering on his cock. His handsome face twisted, teeth bared in a grimace of agonizing pleasure. The muscles in his chest and arms twitched as though fighting some invisible restraint. Fighting to rise to me. To touch me.

To push me down and make me suffer such miserable pleasure.

I stilled above him as the final spasms of my orgasm faded away, both hands braced on his heaving chest.

His eyes were closed, jaw clenched. Long, white hands knotted into fists above his head.

"You're going to fuck me now," I heard myself say.

Loki opened his eyes and the touch of his gaze on mine was almost...physical. Electric green irises, pitch black pupils, stabbing at me with laser focus.

"What?" he rasped.

"You can hold my wrists," I went on, feeling oddly far away from myself. "And you can be rough."

Impossibly, his irises expanded--until the green around them dwindled to flashing silver rings.

"If I say stop you have to stop."

He swallowed again, louder this time. "I want to bite you."

The words came softly. Leaden with hunger, but almost tentative.

"Once," I said, and felt my womb contract with excitement, pussy clenching on his rock-hard flesh still inside me. "You may bite me once. No breaking the skin."

He eyes glazed. "On your breast," he said almost voicelessly.

"On the shoulder," I countered. "Or not at all."

He nodded, gaze very bright, face carefully expressionless. "Here on the floor?"

I thought about it.

"On the bed. Face down. I come before you. At least once."

His eyes glittered, though his face remained blank. "Very well."

"You can't come inside," I said without thinking.

His lips compressed. He knew damn well I liked to feel his cock twitching inside me when he came. But all he said was, "Fine."

"Repeat it back to me."

Green eyes narrowed. "I'm to fuck you face down on the bed. Roughly. I may hold your wrists and I may bite you once on the shoulder, without breaking the skin. I'm not to come inside and I'm to stop whenever you say so."

"And I come first," I finished for him.

"Of course you will."

That hint of his old smugness made my hackles rise. "Two orgasms," I said. "For that you can give me two before you come."

His lashes fluttered downwards, but I didn't miss the twitching at the corners of his mouth.

I stood abruptly and stepped away from him, towards the bed.

Before my foot had fully settled against the carpet Loki was on his feet behind me.

I'd forgotten just how strong he was. How fast. Even with the cuffs suppressing his powers, he had me off my feet and face down on the mattress before I could voice even a squeak of protest.

My shirt and panties left me with a rush of air and the sound of tearing cotton. My arms were yanked sharply behind my back, held in an iron grip. And then he was inside me. Buried to the hilt and thrusting ferociously. Big and hot, utterly brutal.

And making the most electrifying, animalistic sounds of pleasure and aggression.

His body came flush against my back, his weight pressing me flat into the cool sheets. I felt his mouth next to my ear as the bed began to squeak ominously beneath us.

He could have done whatever he wanted to me then. I would have let him. Would have thrown myself on his mercy.

The pleasure bombarded me. Burned up my torso and down my legs. Pulsed and sizzled around the pumping column of his cock. Spiked unbearably when he began to make a soft, airy keening sound with each thrust. A wonderful, helpless, bestial sound.

I came when his teeth found my shoulder. And then again when, a few minutes later, teeth still clamped on my flesh, he let go of my wrists, jammed his hand under my body and gripped one breast with punishing strength.  

I screamed then. Bucked helplessly beneath him.
His thrusts came so hard at the end that I couldn't draw breath enough to cry out at all as I came a third time.

He let me go then.

The loss of him made me whimper limply with regret.

Loki groaned deeply. A hot spurt of liquid struck the small of my back with startling force. And then another, higher up this time. And another, and another.

I said his name. I don't know why. It came out a sob. An apology. A plea.

He lowered himself to me, still spasming, one hand pinned between us, wrapped around his cock. I felt his mouth on my shoulder again--just the lips this time, open wide. Panting, chest heaving. Keening as the final wave of pleasure took him.

And then it was over. Just like that.


I could tell you we were happy then. Afterwards. That everything was fixed. That we found some way to be at peace with the bed we made--and with the fact that we had no choice but to lie in it.

I won't though.

I will say, however, that there was a lot of pleasure in that bed. Pain, too. But you know that.

Life and death. Birth and destruction. Maybe even a little joy and heartbreak, from time to time.

But most of all, Loki.

God of Chaos. Destroyer of worlds. My master. My slave.

He was there with me.

That's all you need to know.