According to Plan (A Loki x Reader Fanfic)

One More Time

You touched yourself, trying to re-live the experience, trying to simulate the way he touched you and made you feel.

None of your other lovers had ever touched you quite like that, or had drawn quite so much pleasure from as deep in your soul. Sex was enjoyable for sure, but it was often rushed and perfunctory - the inevitable conclusion to a night out on the town, or an obligatory act to perform to maintain your few real relationships. Your partners had always either seen you as a fragile glass doll, or as an inflatable one, and in turn had loved you as such. You had always found more pleasure on your own, and you were resigned that it would always be that way.

John, however, had not treated you like something fragile, or something empty. Under his touch you had felt like a wild mare - beautiful, and powerful, and full of raw potential, just waiting to be harnessed beneath him. He followed your breaths, and noticed your movements. He measured your body's reaction to him, to the signals he sent it with his breath, with his lips, and with his touch. In his domination of your body he had granted you liberation in pleasure.

When sleep finally found you, you had dreams of running free in endless fields, your strength never diminishing but rather growing and becoming more powerful.

————————————————————————————

Morning did not, in fact, give you the answers you needed regarding your communication issues.

You stared at your phone while you sipped your coffee. You couldn't not reach out. He was constantly occupying your every thought. But your desire was so raw, and you had no idea what to say.

You slid your phone towards you with determination. Keep it simple, you thought. Keep it light.

"Thanks for the other night," you typed and hit send before you could think any more of it.

Fuck. That sounded stupid didn't it? You could coordinate collaborations between several Fortune 500 companies, but apparently you could not send a text message to an attractive man. If you were very lucky, maybe he would never respond and you could call it a day. A stupid idea never come to fruition. You stood to walk away and get on with your morning when you heard the distinctive chime of a text message come from your phone.

Shit.

"Hello Gorgeous," read one line, followed by another chime, "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific about what, exactly, you're thanking me for."

How about for the multiple orgasms? Or for the meal, or for somehow breaking you out of jail, or for somehow getting you into jail, or even just for the pleasure of being able to gaze upon his astonishing face? He was right. You would have to be more specific.

"For letting me charge my phone at your place," you said, being cheeky, "I never would have made it home otherwise."

"What would you have done without me?"

"I have no idea. Perished, probably."

"I seem to remember you coming alive yesterday. Several times."

Your stomach flipped at his forwardness.

"Probably a fluke," you quipped.

"Only one way to find out," he dared.

"Repeat and test?"

"Exactly," you could almost hear him growl it.

"So I guess it's a matter of when, then."

"Thursday. 6 in the evening. You know where to find me."

And that was that.

The long wait until Thursday.