You have been with him for many years, as nothing more than his servant. Since you were young it has been your job to bring him, the prince of Asguard, whatever he desires. Food, ale, clothes, and even women on occasion. You’ve pined for him from afar, never letting your attraction show for the God of Mischief would never have you, a mere servant. He’s never even glanced your way for more than a second, and certainly never spoken to you.
But today is different. Today, the day you turn eighteen.
You aren’t sure why, but you’re hoping that he will notice your new-found sexuality. It’s not as though you look any different; the change is in your confidence … your attitude.
You are summoned to his quarters. He has asked for a platter of food and you are chosen to bring it to him.
Approaching his chamber, you hold your head high as you wrap your knuckles upon the door.
His voice calls you in.
Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and step into his quarters. You’ve been here before, on many occasions, but it feels different today.
The air is charged with electricity.
He has his back to you as he looks over his dominion below; the twinkling lights shining brightly at night.
You know what to do. You place the platter of exotic food upon his table but you don’t leave at once as you usually would. Instead, you stand there, feeling rather awkward. He still hasn’t turned around, but of course he knows you are there.
You watch him, staring at the back of his head. His silky black hair is swept backwards, and his long emerald cloak reaches the floor, in which he is perfectly reflected.
Your mouth feels dry, and you’re sure he can hear your heart pounding frantically against your ribcage.
‘You are watching me,’ his silky voice calls out. Still, he does not turn around. These are the first words he has ever spoken to you.
Suddenly, you realize that he has been watching you in the reflection of the window he has been looking through.
You try to speak, but are unable.
Slowly, he turns to face you, his pale skin glowing against the dark backdrop of Asguard.
He stares, his steel-gray eyes boring into you. You find it hard to reciprocate the eye-contact; it’s like staring into a blinding light. Your new found confidence vanishes under his unwavering stare, and you find yourself looking at your feet instead.
He seems pleased, as this simple act asserts his dominance over you. He begins to walk towards you, taking long purposeful strides in your direction until he is mere feet away.
You continue to stare at your feet. He knows you fear him. It is that intimidation that you find attractive.
‘What is your name?’ he asks, his voice as smooth as velvet.
You stumble over your words as you tell him your name, and chance a glance at his expression.
The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk as he towers above you, looking down his nose at you. You look up at him, feeling inferior.
He repeats your name, and it rolls from his tongue in the form of erotic torture. Never did you imagine him repeating your name. You were unprepared the head the perfection.
He has many names, your master. Liar, trickster, mischief maker. But to you he is just Loki.
He is manipulative – you know that. But it doesn’t stop you from wanting him. There is a strange glint in his eye, something you’ve never seen before.
Your eyes meet and you see the unspoken passion in his expression. You want him, and he can tell.
‘You’re shaking, my pet,’ he croons, reaching a hand towards you, his long fingers outstretched. He touches your cheek, gently tracing the line of your jaw until your chin is held in his hand. You can barely breath as he tilts your head up. The malevolent grin that spreads across his pale face makes you weak at the knees.
Slowly, he lowers his face to yours and presses his cold lips against your mouth. The kiss is forceful, and harsh, but it sends fireworks through your body, right down to your toes.
|Tom Hiddleston||as Loki|