Lessons in Mischief // Loki Fanfiction

Chapter 6

"This is my room?" you breathe.

"If you want it!"

Opposite the bed and on either side of the door, the rest of the walls are just bookshelves—shelf upon shelf of books that stretch all the way to the ceiling. There's even a ladder that moves to reach the highest one, and deep chairs made from shimmery green velvet, creating a perfect spot to read or relax.

Or study.

"I love it... I have no idea what to say, Sylene. I actually think I might be dreaming right now."

She laughs again. "Don't be silly. Freddie will bring your bags in a second. I'll let you get unpacked, and I'll go grab us a drink."

Finding yourself alone, you take a moment to soak in your surroundings before walking over to the windows and gazing out into the lamp-lit gardens. It's stunning. Calm. Tranquil. Nothing like you know London to be. But you're not complaining. The thought of waking up here to this view, of having a quiet and beautiful space to study, fills you with such relief.

Yes, I'm going to enjoy the peace and solitude here...

***

In a dimly lit corner of another secluded bar, Loki sits alone, his thoughts as turbulent as a storm at sea. The glass in his hand is half-empty, or perhaps half-full – a reflection of his current turmoil. He takes another sip, the sharp burn of the alcohol a minor distraction from the weight of his thoughts.

How could I have let it go that far?

His thoughts once again lead him back to you, agonising over your intimate conversation, the forbidden touches under the table, and how he felt you break apart in his hands. It replays in his mind like a haunting melody, beautiful but painful all at once.

She's my student, for Odin's sake. How did I cross this line?

He takes another gulp before setting the glass down, his hand trembling slightly. And despite his questions, despite the agony his mind is putting him through, the only thing he can think about is doing it again. Having you in his arms. Having you beneath him. Slowly pressing a kiss to each revealed sweep of skin. Seeing your thighs become slick from your own agonised arousal as you beg for his fingers once more. For his cock.

"Fuck," Loki groans aloud, already hard and straining inside his trousers.

How is he so affected by this one girl? A student, no less. He should be focusing on what's important here. His career. His life on Midgard. His home with Sylene. The promises he made.

Loki grits his teeth, hanging his head. If I'm not careful, it could all unravel.

After all, Sylene is older now. She's asking more questions about her origins, and she's at that chaotic age where she's starting to oppose everything Loki says and does. He can't deny how hard it's become. How easy it's been to slip into bars than return home. To confront the bottom of a glass rather than the face of a girl who's becoming so much like her mother, it pains him.

She doesn't deserve this solitude. This silence.

Maybe her having a friend stay isn't such a bad idea after all. It is only temporary, of course. But it might lift her spirits. Odin knows Loki finds it impossible to do so himself, lately.

Loki takes another long gulp before the liquid is completely drained and slips silently from his seat in the bar. He's got some work to do, so he decides to head to the library, even though it's a Saturday night. But the pang inside his chest fills him with guilt.