Infatuation Of The Mind • ♤Loki Laufeyson♤

Chapter twenty-eight - I am Iron Man

November 2009.

Your fingers followed each curve of each book as you walked along the shelves. As if a sixth sense would make you stop at the right book. And maybe that's exactly what happened, when your gut told you to stop at a burgundy book with gold printed letters.

The Iliad. You let your index finger slide from the top of the book to the end, where the cover met the shelf.

Why was it this hard? Why was it so hard to let go of someone. He wouldn't come for you, but yet here you stood with your hand on the book he used to read to you. The book he read to you as you lay unconcious after the hunt, the book he read to you after long days of obligations. And seeing the book created such longing and desire within you. A longing for the moments where you would lay with your head against his chest or lap, looking up at him as he read to you.

"What are you looking at?", he didn't even look at you as he asked.

You shrugged, "I can't help it, you're beautiful."
Loki chuckled, and if you didn't know better, you could see a faint blush on his cheeks, "I mean, perhaps not Helen of Troy beautiful but... beautiful.", you added, with a smile.

He laughed and put the book aside and placed his hand gently against your throat. You had your head on his chest, so he had to bend down for his lips to meet with yours.

Your hand made it's way up on to his thigh, earning a low moan from him as you gently began to caress further to the inside.

It was moments like this that you saw what the future could actually look like. That you could have someone that you felt this at peace with, someone who understood you and satisfied your needs in more than one way. Perhaps Loki was that person. You missed him when he wasn't with you and you longed for him and his touch before he had even left. He listened to you, actually listened. After a busy day he could ask you to talk to him, just talk. He would lay beside you, listening to whatever came out of your mind. Hours later, or even days later, he could bring it up, whatever you had been talking about, asking questions and elaborate on it. And when you were intimate, it was as if he could read your needs and you his. You worked in tandem and met the needs of both, in a form of the purest euphoria.

Perhaps he was the one for you, you wished you had more time to explore the two of you. It might have been a wild gamble, but during tonight's festival, you would ask him to come with you, back to Amarandis.

"Y/N, hey... where are you?"

A voice pulled you back from the memory. You looked around and fell feet first into the reality that was the bookstore.

"Y/N, you good?", Alex gently squeezed your shoulder and looked at you with concern in his eyes.

You wanted to tell him no, that you weren't in fact good. But he would make you elaborate, talk about what was weighing you down, which you really didn't feel like doing.

"I'm good, just got lost in thought.", you said as the memory of Loki next to you faded into nothing.

He nodded and looked up at the book you still had your fingertip against, "Are you thinking on buying it?"

"I don't know, I already have far too many books in far too few square meters."

"Buy it, or you'll just come back here in a few hours and buy it anyway.", he took the Illiad out of its place on the shelf and held it out to you.

You laughed dejectedly and took the book in your arms, you held it close to your chest as you walked up to the register to pay.

Thanksgiving was just two days away and the streets of Manhattan were full of people doing their last minute shopping. You didn't celebrate it, never had. Holidays were your most troublesome period, you felt extra reminded about the fact that you were not from there. People had their own traditions, their own families and friends and you had none. Not here.