Loki X Reader || Girl With The Gold Earring

23 | Milk And Honey

Loki's lips are warm.

Or maybe they're cool, and it's Y/N's that are warm, heating the prince's skin, her energy mixing and mingling with his atoms.

He's just pressing their mouths together softly, loosening when Y/N responds, and then it's over, as he eases away.

But he's still cupping Y/N's jaw, the smooth curve of it cradled in his broad palm. His breath is quick, each exhale ghosting Y/N's face like down feathers drawn benignantly over her skin. He drags his brilliant eyes open to gauge her reaction, his other hand still at her leg, almost hovering over it like she's something delicate he doesn't want to break.

His cheeks are pink. It's a light pink, delicate and barely visible---but it is there---and his pupils are swallowing up each iris, swamping them, drowning them. He's staring at Y/N's lips as if he can't seem to drag them away.

Y/N is sure he can feel her pulse fluttering like the frantic wings of a startled moth where his thumb is settled against her throat.

The width of a blade of grass is all that stands between their foreheads. Loki still hasn't moved away, and Y/N doesn't want him to---she's scared that he will, and her free hand reached out of its own accord, finding the back of his head, keeping him close before he can leave.

His hair is soft under Y/N's palms, in a masculine sort of way; wiry yet smooth, like the feathers of a swan. Before she even realised she was doing it, her fingers had submerged themselves in it, the strands like scuffs of charcoal scribbled across the backs of her hands.

Loki let her, his eyes slipping closed.

Encouraged, Y/N clutched the thick coils, over conscious of hurting him---

but she needn't have worried;

A small, low noise broke in his chest.

It grated roughly against Y/N's core, like a wet stone over a rock, and without thinking, just calling upon some instinct, some deeply rooted knowledge she didn't know she possessed, Y/N tugged his lips back against her own.

Because she wanted more of those unintentional little sounds.

And he's letting her touch him.

And what if she never gets the chance to do that again?

Loki's palm finally closed over Y/N's leg, to steady himself as he fell into her embrace willingly, eagerly.

It's hard to keep her mouth shut, to keep a respectable distance; although that ship had long since left the metaphorical harbour. Loki isn't even trying---to keep his distance, or to keep his mouth shut. Y/N allowed him to ease her jaw open with the pad of his thumb at her chin, and he swallowed the shaky edge of her moan as though it were bittersweet food.

Encouraged by her compliance, by her obvious enjoyment, his large hands bundled her closer, and Y/N let herself collapse against him, her body meeting the solid strength of his chest. It's steady and unmovable and reassuring, like the trunk of a tree.

Her heart overflowing with tender love for him, Y/N's grip on his hair tightened, urging him nearer, and Loki slackened against her with a sound of immense pleasure, his hand at her knee hunting out the dip of her waist, grasping it. He's still kneeling on the ground, and pushed his body further into the space between Y/N's thighs, his heart flurrying quickly against the bodice of her dress.

The tiny ice horse is liquifying in Y/N's tightly clenched palm, the sharp points of its ears, muzzle and legs rounding into dulled nubs. Its transparent blood had begun to leak from the cracks between her fingers and she let it go. The amorphous lump fell to the ground with a tinkling, metallic ring.