You walk into the velvety penumbra of an old cinema. It's two in the afternoon of a hot summer day, and you didn't feel like going to the beach, so instead you went to the movie theatre instead, knowing you would be there alone on a day like this.
The movie has already started. Your seat creaks when you sit down, the air conditioning makes constant whizzing noises, and the squeaky floor is covered by a battered rug. The theatre is more than eighty years old, and it specializes in classic movies that are almost that age. You know the projectionist, an tiny old man that always lets you in for free.
Today's movie is "Duel in the Sun", a Gregory Peck Western you've already seen a thousand times. But you don't care, because the desert sets and the familiar voices of the actors are always soothing to you. Movies and make-believe have been your constant companions for years.
Halfway through the movie you hear another creaking noise that comes from a couple of rows behind. You look back to see a tall dark-haired man staring at you, his green eyes piercing the darkness. You try to concentrate on the movie again, but something in that stare has made you nervous.
"I'll sit here if you don't mind, the seats back there are terribly uncomfortable," whispers a low voice right beside you.
You have no idea how it happened, but he's right next to you now, looking much more interested in you than in the adventures of Jennifer Jones and Gregory Peck on the screen. Suddenly the light falls on his face and you let out a gasp: he's the man from the telly, the man from Stuttgart, the one who caused al that chaos and destruction and then disappeared. You try to get up, but he gets hold of your wrist with a quick movement; it's like being trapped by an iron clasp.
He leans towards you and now you can see him better. Without a word you can tell he knows he's been recognized, and he enjoys it immensely; his intense gaze and regal features leave you speechless for a moment, and when he speaks right next to your ear in his low, raspy voice, you can't help shivering a little.
"I seem to have missed the first part of this... tale of images. Tell me what happened before."
You clear your throat, trying to utter a sentence.
"Who are you?"
"I am Loki", he whispers, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it. His breath is cold but his lips almost burn you. He says no more about him, no further explanation of his presence, as if the sole mention of his name could be the answer to all the questions in the universe.
"But..." is the only thing you manage to say. Your mind seems frozen, your heart suddenly racing with desire for this beautiful stranger.
"Tell me." It's a command, not a question, and it makes you fall into a sort of trance. The voices from the screem seem to fade as you start describing the plot of the movie, full of wild hearts and forbidden love. His lips meet your skin again as you speak, first the palm of your hand, then your wrist, your shoulder, followed by a trail of kisses along your neck. He waits until you've finished summing up the plot and then he kisses you wildly, his mouth claiming yours with an intensity you've never experienced before.
The trance fades away as your body starts responding, shifting in your seat to be as close to him as possible. His hands crawl up the skirt of your dress and you shiver so violently that you almost fall to the floor.
"Don't worry, darling. I won't let you fall", he says with a smirk, letting his hand go over your stockings and past your underwear, unleashing your desire with the tip of his fingers.
Out of the corner of your eye you still see the shapes moving on the screen, but your heartbeat has become so loud that you can barely hear anything else. There is a fire starting in your loins and spreading to your hands, your mouth, your whole being. All your previous lovers have been obliterated from your mind. You've never wanted anyone like you want Loki now, despite the little voice in the back of your mind that's trying to warn you that he's dangerous. Not human. Not exactly divine. Something else entirely.
And all you want now is to worship your newfound god, to please him, to make him ache for you as you do for him. To be his woman and follower, lover and priestess. A cult of one.
With one slow movement you undo the knot of his tie and start opening the buttons of his shirt, one by one. Loki's skin is pale and cold, but his breathing is becoming agitated under your hands. You reach and untie his belt while heading down, kissing his chest, running your nails down his stomach, and finally placing your hand on the zip of his trousers and feeling his erection pressing against it. He mutters something you can't understand between his clenched teeth as you free his cock and start stroking it as painfully slowly as your racing mind allows you.
After a moment he pulls you up, straddling you on his lap, and bites your bottom lip eagerly, gripping the back of your neck with one hand while the other pulls your knickers down.
"Wait", you manage to say in between kisses. "Let me finish this my way. You don't want to miss the ending of the movie, the final duel is truly epic." You breath the last words against his lips and start your way down his neck, followed by the sound of Loki's soft laughter.
"Such generosity, my sweet darling... and such passion. I may have misjudged the women of Midgard."
"Maybe you have misjudged just this one", you reply softly. Getting hold of his hand, you put his middle finger slowly into your mouth and suck on it, up and down, a teasing reminder of what will come next.
Leaning down again, you brush the tip of his member with your lips once, twice, and immediately look up to see his reaction. The gaze that meets yours could cause the explosion of a small sun. His hand, still on the back of your neck, becomes tangled in your hair, a warning sign that he may have relinquished the initiative to you, but not the power.
Guided by his hand, you circle the head of his cock with the tip of your tongue. Your hands caress his thighs while you slowly inch down his length, progressing from lighter licks to harder and deeper ones. Your tongue traces the underside of his member, making him bit his lip as he stifles a low groan. Putting one hand around the bottom of his shaft, this time you wrap your lips fully around it, bringing him into your mouth and out again, building a lazy rhythm that becomes more steady after a few seconds.
He starts moving his hips following your pace, just a fraction of an inch each time, trying to go deeper into your mouth. You grab him a little tighter, moaning softly and increasing the rhythm until you feel his cock starting to throb. Loki's eyes are closed now, his breathing heavy and laboured. He lets go of your hair and grips the armrests of his seat, moaning loudly. You gasp for air one last time, making sure you're ready for his climax, and take him in again, sucking harder and faster, following every cue he gives you.
With a final effort he pushes in deep and holds still, letting you feel the force of his orgasm. A few seconds later you let go and rest your head on his knee, exhausted. You've never felt better, or more powerful, in your life.
Loki pulls you up from the floor and sits you in his lap as his mouth meets yours in a rough, wet kiss.
"Where exactly did you learn how to leave a god powerless, my dear?"
"I once read an article on Cosmopolitan... oh, never mind, really." You run your hands through his long black hair, enjoying the moment. "You know, there's another session right after this one. Would you like to see the movie again from the beginning?"
"Oh, yes, darling. But this time you'll be the one who gets to enjoy the ending", he says, starting to position himself between your thighs.
On the silver screen behind you, Pearl and Lewt lay together in the desert, dying in each other's arms, while the credits start to roll.