Endlessly

The Lesson

"That's it! Now concentrate and you'll-"

The fantastical, illusive, ultramarine glow of your newly discovered seidr disappears from your fingertips.

"Dammit all to hel!" You lurch to your feet, pissed.

You and Loki had retired early to your chambers hours ago so you could begin practicing your magic in private, and you've gotten absolutely nowhere. You're far more angry than you know you should be- but you want so badly to be good at what Loki's teaching you. Each hurdle, each struggle, only inflames your frustration and embarrassment for not being so.

"Gersemi- this takes time to develop. You're doing wonderfully." Loki's voice is low- soothing in a way you've only heard a handful of times.

"We've been at this for hours and all I can muster are stupid blue sparkles! What wonderful thing am I supposed to accomplish with that?" You hiss.

"Gersemi- you need to get out of your own head for once and trust me." He springs to his feet, grabbing hold of your wrist and twisting your body in a way that forces you to look at him.

Oh.

His emerald eyes burn with something not quite like rage, but close enough to send a thrilling tingle down your spine. 

Oh.

He's obviously picked up on the unexpected feelings that have just been ignited inside of you, because he very noticeably halts his next words- a devilish smirk spreading across his lips. Before you can respond, he twists his fingers through and around the bit of fabric from his shirt that you'd tied around your wrist earlier today.

He pulls your hands above your head, walking you backward and pinning you to the nearest wall. He runs his lips along your jaw and down your throat, the scintillating cool caress of his breath lighting every nerve inside of you on fire.

"Loki-"

As soon as you try to speak, he scoops you up from the ground, carrying you toward the bed with a look of determination.

"Loki! What are y-"

"Do you trust me?" He practically purrs as he lays you down on the bed, his powerful arms on either side of your head.

"Uh-huh."

"No. Say it. Say that you trust me." His gaze bores into your very soul.

"I trust you!" You mewl- heat pooling in your abdomen, intense and unexpected waves of arousal flooding your psyche.

"Good girl." He croons.

Delightful tension coils in your belly at his words.

What the hel is happening to me?

He pulls at the fabric around your wrist, unwinding it just enough to wrap it around your other wrist, dexterously binding your hands together, and then to the bed frame- stretched thrillingly above your head.

"You're going to listen to every word I say, and you're going to obey my every command. Is that clear?"

"Uh-huh."

He places his thumb and forefinger on either side of your jaw- the other fingers resting casually against your throat. "Say it, ástin mín. Tell me that you will obey me."

Fireworks explode in your head at his touch.

"I- I'll obey you." A knot forms in your gut- the combination of nerves and anticipation has you positively vibrating.