Cleave | Loki x Reader

• XI •

Before I could protest, his finger pressed gently against my lips, silencing me as he brushed my forehead with his. 'Not that the idea of courting an older woman with a youthful soul doesn't stir something within me...'

At that, I shoved the sleazy prince with the greasy hair off me, placing my hands on my hips in mock-exasperation.

'You know, I could flatten you right here, right now.'

'Oh, my darling,' he teased, stepping closer whilst he reached for that silver lock hidden somewhere in-between my mop of hair – only to twist it into a tight curl and let it frame my face. The gentleness of the action mixed with that blasted endearment sent my mind reeling; my lips aching to be shreded further.

'But do ponder a moment longer this aging situation. You may be at your physical peak now, but think of how long it will take before it begins to decrease. By then, I'll be the one with the upper hand once more.'

The mischievous gleam in his eyes, the way he bit his lower lip as he—
And just like that, I had him flattened beneath me on the pearly white marble floor.

'Ugh,' he groaned dramatically though I could see the smirk creeping up the corners of his mouth. 'You really do like rising to your promises, huh?'

'Damn right I do, Loki darling.' I pressed a hungry, possessive kind of kiss to his delicious lips, letting a deep moan echo in the back of my throat. As a response, a groan rumbled low in his.

It was the night before the dawning of my seventh century.
At seven hundred, I now equaled the physical age of twenty. At least that's what our elders believe to know of my... species.

And with that, I had surpassed even the two princes, who had once gazed down on the three-centuries-younger maiden before them.
Aging faster than pure-blooded Asgardians and Vanir, I was now technically older than Loki and Thor. Naturally, Loki couldn't just leave it at that, taunting me all day long.

Still, I dared not complain, as he moved mountains to gift me a full day spent at our pond. In his arms, unrestrained and uninterrupted.
For my name day, he had implored the All-Father for a pause in my studies and training, and to my utter surprise, the king had granted it.
Whatever Loki had done to – to put it in his words – repay me for the gift I had given him on his last name day, he wouldn't for the life of him share with me.

Fate, however, had a cruel way of reminding me of who I was yet again.
My name day simply had to fall on the same day as the once-in-a-millennium celebration of the Winter Solstice.
The same day Asgard honoured the great prophecies...
Honestly? Mocking me, that's what the Norns were doing.

What a way to erase all that blissful normalcy of those past months. Slapping the prophecy in my face in the guise of a feast yet again. How original.

'Come,' Loki pushed me off him and sprang to his feet, extending a hand to me. 'Off to bed with you, little saviour. The guest of honour of tomorrow's charade ought to look nothing less than her absolute best.'

I refused his hand with a smirk, rising on my own and inching close enough to whisper, 'And you doubt that I will?'

'Yngri hetja! I should bend you over and spank you right this instant for placing such foul words in my mouth.'

A teasingly wicked grin spread on my heated cheeks. Immediately, I caught the trickster's reaction.
His eyes narrowing with something dark, his grip on my waist tightening as he pulled me closer and stared me down.

'Cease your games, kærasta,' he warned, his voice a velvety challenge.
'Or I might just violate house rules and follow you right through that door.'
His eyes never leaving mine, he motioned to my chambers behind me with a nod of his head. 'I'd better rise to my promises as much as you rise to yours, no?'