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hurricanerin · 5 years ago

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Poise & Rationality Ch. 1: Chime

A profuse thank you to @hysteria87 for being a solid pal and beta and making me a bomb graphic. And shoutout to @liquor-belle for unintentionally signing on as my crisis management team and beta as well. Annnnd to both of them for handling my 7 week long neurosis featuring this story. Both of them are hardcore talented, please check them out.

Hi Dark!Steve Fandom! Thanks for your patience!

Pairing: HYDRA!Steve x OFC

Rating: Explicit. Always, always explicit.

Warnings: Rape/noncon/dubcon, smut, forced pregnancy, emotional manipulation, power imbalance.

Length: 5.5k.

Summary: Shield has fallen, leaving Eden at the feet of the villainous Steve Rogers, Hydra's newest recruit. She walks on eggshells, trying to survive in a new reality where she’s at the mercy of her closest friend, one where she can keep her heart locked away from this mess. The problem is that the ex-Captain’s flirting and gentle teasing has turned carnal and new intentions clear: she is his and he’s going to have her.

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It felt like a bad dream, really; the defunct Avengers held captive at the overtaken compound while the newly triumphant Hydra made themselves comfortable. Shock collars, laced with gamma radiation and programmed to trigger in the event of excessive exertion, kept the fallen heroes docile as their minds rotted with hate and failure. It would have been a kindness to use Loki’s scepter to cheat them into blissful unawareness as they knelt to their enemies.

The newest of whom was Steve Rogers.

Captain America was dead. The infamous shield rested amongst Hydra’s other freshly acquired treasures, his star spangled suit torn to shreds, and the righteous hero’s wholesome affect demolished beyond recognition. In his place stood a hardened, jaded man, lied to and taken advantage of ten times too many by the entity he had believed in with every ounce of his being. But, when government property and intelligence were held at a higher value than humanity again and again, when Shield repeatedly chose to prioritize the safety and preservation of weapons over the lives of civilians, Steve had finally walked away from everything: the scene, the victims’ bodies, Shield itself. Three days later, Hydra attacked the compound in upstate New York, led by the rogue First Avenger. All Avengers were taken alive and divided amongst the Hydra elite.

Some higher ups chose more practical uses for their new playthings. Hydra monitored Tony, even more volatile due to Pepper’s disappearance, with a team of twenty while they forced him to improve Hydra weapons tech. Bruce, clad in a collar unique to his makeup and under the watchful eye of fifty of Hydra’s finest, was stuck in the lab conducting heinous experiments on future super soldiers. Natasha, Clint and Thor also served in sectors reflective of their own talents. Steve stuffed down the guilt twisting in his stomach and instead focused on the satisfaction of knowing that Shield’s puppets were neutralized.

The Captain’s personal vendettas didn’t end with the five originals; he spread his bitter anger throughout the extended squad of heroes. Save for a smattering of team members he recruited, the Avengers as a whole suffered. He made certain that Eden, a recruit with only two years on the Avengers crew, endured a fate just as miserable as the rest. She was his protegee and had been attached to his side since her first day on the team. She deserved to be punished like the others, forced to watch the world they had worked so hard to protect fall to shambles.

Eden had had Steve wrapped so tightly around her little finger by the time he left for Hydra that when she refused to change sides, she had …wounded him. Badly. She deserved retribution, but Steve didn’t have time for petty discipline and the thought of anyone but himself marking or marring her skin made him see red. If someone were to physically punish Eden, it would be his fingers pressing bruises into her arms, his teeth leaving angry red imprints on her neck, his lips pulling purple marks to the surface of her chest.

No. The situation didn’t call for that. Not yet. For now, he was content humiliating her; keeping her close to his side, as she had been since her first day at the compound. Eden now served as his imprisoned assistant and glorified scullery maid. A combat-trained scullery maid capable of absorbing and neutralizing the energy of a nuclear bomb, but a maid nonetheless. Most importantly, she was his.

Of all the people in the world to be assigned, Steve Rogers was the last who required cleaning up after. Even as Hydra’s Captain, he kept his rooms immaculate. In doing so, he unintentionally maintained that air of humility that had made him Captain America, which infuriated Eden. He would be so much easier to hate if he weren’t still Steve.

Smoothing the surface of the flat sheet over his mattress, she exhaled softly. Like the disciplined soldier he was, Steve made his bed every morning, but he liked new sheets every other day. Changing his linens provided a brief reprieve from the boredom of being confined to his apartment all day, for which she was grateful. Humming absently to herself, she spread the slate-colored comforter over his bed. She honestly wasn’t sure which she preferred: solitude; time wasted alone in his giant space where she was plagued by listlessness, or suffering his company, in which she was tortured by watching the man she revered so ardently betray his own credo.

When a series of beeps and chirps sounded from the other room, followed by the thunk of reversing deadbolts, Eden’s heart pounded and she haphazardly dragged the bedspread over the mattress and tossed the remaining pillows onto the bed. Rushing from his bedroom, she didn’t bother with the lights as she hustled into the living room. Steve discovering her in his room rarely ended well. He would stare at her, pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates as he made no effort to conceal the erection growing in his trousers. He’d toy with her until the tension in the room grew unbearable, and then she’d break and find an excuse to flee. Though they hadn’t acted on their mutual attraction prior to his betrayal, the power dynamic between them was vastly different now. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to refuse his advances anymore, and she didn’t care to put herself in a position to find out. So far, he had been lenient.

Trotting straight to a cart filled with decanters of alcohol and snatching the scotch, she paid little mind as she nearly missed the tumbler, hastily pouring as the front door released and Steve strode into the room. Wiping her wet hand on the skirt of her dress, Eden silently approached him and held out the crystal glass, neglecting to make eye contact. Once in his grasp, she fled with as much subtlety as possible, taking refuge beside the antique cart.

A stack of papers muffled the clatter of his heavy P220 as he dropped them to the kitchen table. Gaze flicking over her, Steve took a long draw, disappointed, as always, at the alcohol’s lack of effect. Though Eden’s eyes refused to meet his, she did pay attention to the way his scruffy throat bobbed as he swallowed, which earned her a grin. Her attempts at feigned disinterest were endearing. Actually, at the present moment everything about her was endearing. Appealing. Fresh from a testosterone-filled debriefing meeting, an aching tension filled him from chest to groin, begging to be released. However, their tango wasn’t simple.

Licking a drop of liquor from his lip, he nodded in her direction. “How was your day, Eden?”

Her lip curled before she dropped her gaze to the ground, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. The simple act caused a pleasant throb in his lower abdomen. The more she hated him, the more he wanted her. There had been a magnetism between them before the takeover, before his ultimate betrayal. Back when he was good. As his altruism had faded while hers remained, as his world had darkened and decayed, Eden had stayed a small beacon of… not light, but comfort. Someone he returned to at the compound and used to soothe the festering rage and simmering disappointment Shield fostered.

It was Eden who had coaxed him into sharing his doubts regarding Shield’s intentions and she had never judged him for it. She had listened, challenging him with the occasional question or opinion. He had never doubted her fidelity, but everything changed during the takeover. The expression on her face when she saw him flanked with Hydra soldiers that day of the attack made his stomach sink. Steve had trained her, made her what she was. She was his confidante. He thought Eden’s loyalty would survive something like his transition to Hydra, but he was sorely mistaken. She had turned on him, just like almost everyone else.

Eyes flicking over her body, clad in his designated 1940’s tea dress, Steve rested his hip against the leather sectional. His face hardened as he drained the tumbler and tried again.

“How was your day, Eden?”

Once more, ignored him.

“Respond, Eden.”

Focused on her hands, she picked at the cuticle of her thumb.

Pursing his lips, Steve sighed and reached into his pocket to retrieve a slim remote. He saw Eden freeze in his peripheral, but she still refused to look up. With an exasperated exhale, he pressed one of the buttons, frowning as the woman cried out and crumpled to her knees, tugging at the collar around her neck and leaning into the wall for support.

“Damnit,” she panted.

“I don’t like it when you ignore me, Eden.”

“I don’t like it when you betray your family, humiliate and hold us prisoner, but here we are,” she grit.

Steve’s face softened as his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see.

Family.

The Avengers were his family. Had been his family. Hydra would never fill that void. He knew that going in. For as much as Steve Rogers had changed, that basal, primal need to create a family he could protect and provide for still ate at him. It was the one thing in the world he wanted. He had given everything to defend the earth and its inhabitants. Was he not due what he desired most?

Eyes focusing, they honed in on the seething woman bracing the wall. Even incensed and in pain, Eden made his thick cock swell. Family. He had entertained the idea featuring her, of course. It was impossible not to when they spent so much time together. He had briefly substituted several of the women he worked with, but he always came back to Eden. She fit all his requirements; wide hips, a hearty body, strong maternal instincts, and more than capable of defending herself. How her superhuman talents would factor into her offspring had yet to be determined, but he doubted the results would be adverse.

Natasha would kill anything he planted inside her just to spite him. She was self-destructive. But Eden… Eden was flawed in a completely different manner, in harmless ways, such as stubbornly insisting she was always right or that her way was best, but he had sway over her. She was headstrong with a temper, but both were easily tamed. In training, she yielded beautifully to him. Sometimes it took him physically besting her to get a point across. If that carried over to their relationship, then so be it.

He knew Eden may try to escape with his baby because she feared for his or her safety, but that did not concern him. He would prove to her eventually that once she submitted to him, there was nothing to fear.

With a tired, distracted sigh, Steve collapsed onto the sofa, discarded his glass on the cocktail table and absently rubbed his chin with a thumb. Frowning, he tugged at the hair on his jaw, feeling the length. He turned and examined himself critically in the mirror mounted on the wall behind him, running his fingers through the heft of his beard. He could feel the odd stray hair and the undefined neckline bordered on untidy.

“I want this trimmed,” he said without facing Eden.

Biting her cheek to keep from scoffing, she crossed her arms and raised a brow, only to be met with an austere glance in the mirror’s reflection. Steve nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

“My shaving kit is in the bathroom, bottom left cabinet. Go get it.”

Releasing an irritated sigh, Eden dropped her arms to her sides.

“Yes, sir.”

Her voice was demure but the ire in her eyes gleamed with disdain. Pushing off the wall, she slipped into his bedroom and to the ensuite. She knelt and rummaged through the cabinet, retrieving the worn bag. Steve watched impatiently from a kitchen chair as she dropped her prize unceremoniously on his kitchen counter.

“What are you waiting for?”

Gritting her teeth, she unzipped the leather pouch, fishing out its contents and laying them on the table: a plastic comb, a few guards, clippers, beat up disposable razor, and a tube of shaving butter.

Eying the pile, the corner of her mouth pulled upwards. Forgetting herself, she couldn’t stop the jibe from tumbling out from between her lips, “The traditional Captain America doesn’t have a straight edge?”

Steve’s body stiffened. He inhaled sharply, releasing his breath through his nose. Forcing his corded muscles to relax, he shucked off his long sleeved tactical shirt and held it out for her to take. “I don’t have time for nostalgia.”

“Seriously?” Eden muttered to herself.

His movements froze and his gaze met hers. Heat bloomed across her face and chest at the invitation in his eyes to provoke him further. She held his stare for a moment longer before he called her bluff, and Eden looked away. Suddenly very busy folding his uniform, she focused on her task until he stretched his arms behind his head. With a loud, satisfied groan, he extended his hands into the air, then rubbed a palm against the skintight material of the thin, white cotton t-shirt plastered against his chest.

Aware of the nearly irresistible temptation to stare at Steve’s body, Eden set her jaw as she delicately placed his still-warm shirt on the counter. Planting a hand on her hip, her eyes flicked back and forth between Steve, his beard, and his array of tools. She motioned at the table.

“This is going to make a mess. There will be trimmings everywhere. Let’s do it over the sink.”

“Here is fine. My maid will sweep everything up later.”

Gritting her teeth, she marched to the table, snatched the clippers and comb in one hand and wrenched his chin upwards with the other.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. It may not be good,” she warned.

“I didn’t expect you to have done this at all. Whose beard have you trimmed?”

She hesitated, running the comb down through the scruff on his cheeks to wrangle unkempt hairs, then turned on the clippers. If his arched eyebrow wasn’t enough indication, Steve clearing his throat made his desire for a prompt answer abundantly clear.

“An ex owned a barbershop,” she said over the noise. “I wanted to know what he did all day, so he taught me.”

At the mention of her being with another man, Steve visibly bristled.

“I see.”

Using her fingertips to angle Steve’s jaw as needed, Eden couldn’t fight the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes followed her everywhere as she guided the guarded clippers down in the direction of the hair growth on his cheeks. His pensive gaze was overwhelming, and given the amusement in his eyes, he knew very well the effect he had on her. She opted to ignore him.

Confident that she had trimmed enough without taking away too much bulk, she flipped the switch off to change the guard. She needed one that would leave more length for his neck and chin.

Steve cleared his throat, breaking her concentration.

“Do you want kids, Eden?”

She froze, almost dropping the plastic piece in her hand. A deeply personal question from Captain America wouldn’t have warranted a second thought. But, since the takeover and her accused betrayal, Steve had been cold, withdrawing from her completely. Her heart ached at the naïve hope bubbling up in her chest that the inquiry was meant as an opportunity to connect. That man didn’t exist anymore. Giving herself a mental shake, she cleared her throat and frowned in thought.

“Um, well—I guess—I—”

“It’s not a difficult question.”

Shooting him a nasty glare, she snapped the guard onto the clippers and flicked the power switch. With a huff, she positioned herself in front of him, yanking his chin upwards and running the clipper comb through his beard.

Eden pursed her lips. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom,” she admitted. “My career is so much more violent than I expected, I don’t think a child should grow u—”

“You’ll be a good mom,” Steve interrupted.

The conviction in his voice caused her to falter. With an uncomfortable laugh, she shook her head.

“I don’t know anything. While my friends had babies, I spent my early twenties learning how to control myself around sources of energy so I didn’t accidentally blow up a city. I learned to fight and devise exit strategies and collaborate with a team. If I have been around them, the children I’ve seen have been victims of awful circumstances. I wouldn’t know what to say to a kid I haven’t rescued.”

Steve was contemplative as she removed the plastic guard. Her thoughtful reflection only made him desire her more. The urge to claim her, before another Hydra member did, before an opposing force banded together and stole her away, clouded his vision. There was only one solution: He’d plant his baby in her belly now and tie her to him forever. Eden would never allow her child to be taken from her and if she ran from him with the baby, he would find her. No matter where she went, he would find her. She would be his by right. They would be his by right. Mother and child tethered to father forever. His indestructible family. Untouchable, with two gifted parents that would do anything to protect their children.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the chair, tugging at his tactical pants as his erection grew at the thought of her swollen with their baby. For their first child, her movement would be restricted to the compound. She couldn’t be trusted, not yet. But by their second, he’ll have trained her by holding their firstborn over her as leverage to obey him.

Oblivious, Eden used the bare clipper to clean up his untidy neckline, neaten his scruffy cheeks, and trim around his lips. When she brushed away clippings littering his mouth with her fingers, he fought the urge to take them between his lips.

Eden started to hum, and it was clear her mind was deviating from their future.

“I’ve seen you with them,” he noted. “If you can handle traumatized kids during missions, you can handle your own. Practiced or not, you have maternal instinct.”

Eden’s ears glowed as she finished his sideburns. Whether Steve allied himself with Hydra or Shield, she knew he wanted a family. His approval of her ability as a mother was significant, she just couldn’t figure out where he was going with it. Opting to ignore his comment, she gingerly placed the clippers on the kitchen counter, as if doing so with little noise would allow her to slip away unnoticed.

“All done,” she said softly, casually brushing beard hairs off her dress as she backed away.

Eden yelped when he snatched her wrist. It took everything in her not to react instinctually, the way Captain America had relentlessly trained her body to respond when attacked.

“You’re not finished,” he said tersely, lifting his chin and rubbing the pads of his fingers along the short, prickly hair at his Adam’s apple. “There is still stubble.”

“I’m not using that rusty razor, I’ll give you tetanus,” she nodded at the disposable in his bag. Though Steve was correct, using a straight edge or razor would give an even closer shave than the clippers, she was not going to be responsible for infecting Hydra’s newest member.

Steve noiselessly raised his pant leg and slipped a black combat blade from a hidden ankle sheath, then handed it to Eden handle-first. Not a straightedge, but just as sharp.

“I just cleaned it,” he nodded at the weapon. “Don’t get it dirty.”

Don’t make him bleed. It was the most impassive threat she’d ever heard, but as deadly as if he’d held the blade to her own throat.

Eden fingered the knife handle, watching Steve’s face uneasily. How could he careen from thoughtful parent to menacing so effortlessly? Was this a challenge? Did he want her to attack him? He had trained her; Eden’s uncanny talent for disarming enemies in place of killing them had always made Steve proud. He knew her every tell and every strategy in her repertoire. Besides, he’d never actually kill her; he found too much satisfaction in toying with her. He’d hurt her though. He had the self-control to dominate her physically without causing her bodily harm. The toll it would take on her heart was another story. Whatever he was planning, she wanted no part of it.

She held the knife back out to him, shaking her head. “It’s too hard to get the right angle. I’ll cut you. Do it yourself.”

Steve’s mouth twitched. He patted his thigh. “Sit. You can do it from here.” He leaned back, arms spread along the back of the chair, lap open. The epitome of inviting.

Eden’s face warmed as she set her jaw. Hesitating, her eyes flashed before she abandoned the knife on the counter and stalked further back into the kitchen. Immediately Steve reached for the remote, his thumb on the button to activate her collar. About to press down for blatantly disobeying him, he stopped when all she did was snatch a hanging towel and meander to the sink to fill a bowl with hot water.

When she turned to face him her eyes widened, brows furrowing into an expression of saddened anger as she saw the device in his hand.

“Can I keep going? Or should I put these down so you can zap me?”

Though he only felt a tinge of guilt, it was more emotion than he could afford. Hardening his expression, Steve dropped the remote on the table and raised his hands in the air.

“My mistake.”

Again, he had to display that wretched humility that had made him Captain America. Why hadn’t Hydra purged him of it? Why couldn’t he just be bad? Breath stuttering as she exhaled, Eden stowed her items on the counter next to Steve’s shoulder, swapping them for the weapon.

Flipping the knife in her hand, she squeezed her fingers around the handle, inhaled and gingerly padded forward. Her breath caught as Steve’s iron grip cupped her ribcage and hip, lifting her to perch sideways on his thighs. She caught herself, one hand grasping at the thin white t-shirt he wore, the other plastered flat against his pectoral, the knife sandwiched between her palm and the solid wall of muscle.

Her fingers tensed when his chest rumbled beneath them with a laugh, goosebumps rising on her arms as his nose found its way against the hypersensitive skin of her neck. Steve made no effort to mask his groan as he inhaled the familiar fragrance of her jasmine shampoo, mingled with the scent that was intrinsically Eden. When she stiffened in his arms, he guided a warm palm up the expanse of her back, pulling her even closer as he used a knuckle to brush her hair from her face.

“Things have always been easy between us,” he mused. “It feels good to be this close, doesn’t it?

Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes lowered, focused on his chest.

“Of course,” she shrugged. “This is normal. It’s no different than training,” she all but whispered.

Shit.

Between his voice in his ear and his hands on her body, her brain wasn’t functioning. Eden needed space. She hadn’t smelled his familiar Old Spice deodorant, that faint note of sweat, or the pure musk of Steve since before the takeover. Her sole mission had been to convince her brain that the man working for Hydra who looked like Steve wasn’t Steve, at least not her Steve, so she could make it through each day. If she did that, Eden could maintain emotional distance while interacting with his imposter. She doubted sleep would ever come easily again, not with him in the next room, but she could at least survive the daylight hours without a complete breakdown. But now he was touching her, talking to her like nothing had happened and she couldn’t ignore who he really was.

Steve’s thumb nudged her chin upwards to expose the underside of her jaw. Eden was caught so off-guard by act that the emotion bubbling in her throat froze and she sobered. She swallowed hard as she felt him lazily trace the tip of his nose along her jawline, before creeping lower and pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of her throat. She couldn’t breathe properly, but her head was painfully clear as his scruff burned her delicate flesh and his lips pulled gently against the tender skin of her neck, leaving a purple mark.

The sound of her breath hitching was deafening, and in case she weren’t positive that it was, feeling his lips morph into a triumphant smile against her throat confirmed it. Steve easily pried Eden’s clenched fist from his shirt and looped her arm around his shoulder. She was putty in his hands.

Neither of them missed how the position brought them closer yet, pressing her breast firmly against his sculpted chest. Aside from the minor shiver that racked through her, Eden ignored the sensation of her pebbled nipple rubbing against his solid mass. Steve, however, did not let it go unnoticed. He released a pleased grunt and nodded at the knife in her hand.

“You have a job to do, Eden.”

She hated when he said her name. All it took was hearing those two syllables and her lower belly tightened, flooding with heat. She clenched her teeth with enough pressure that something in her jaw popped. Taking a deep breath, she regrouped, then studied his face, analyzing the best way to proceed.

Truly, she did her best to maneuver herself with as little friction as possible. But in reaching to drag the shaving butter, steaming bowl and rag closer, she shifted and her bottom ground against the existing bulge beneath her, eliciting a hiss from Steve.

Eden froze in a mixture of terror, embarrassment, and arousal. When Steve repositioned himself beneath her, it was her turn to stifle a moan. She was fairly certain the way he ground his erection against her ass was payback. Unprepared for the retribution, the quiet gasp she uttered echoed in the silent kitchen. Eden swallowed back a whimper, closed her eyes as she collected herself. Straightening with mock confidence, she wrung out the steaming washcloth, smeared a dollop of shaving butter on the back of her hand and turned back to Steve with the utmost delicacy.

His harsh exhale puffed against her cheeks and she disregarded his smoldering gaze, stubbornly setting to work. It was impossible, however, to ignore the warmth radiating off his body. The contrast in their body temperature beneath her cool palms sent goosebumps rising up her arms as she twisted to face him. Keeping her face blank, she wet his cheeks, upper neck, and sideburns with the cloth, then worked the butter between her palms and applied it using as little bodily contact as possible. Unfortunately, she could only limit so much. Her task required her to run her fingers along his Adam’s apple, cheeks and the neckline of his beard to massage the product into his skin, ensuring there was a lubricating layer of cream between his flesh and the knife.

By all accounts, her hands should have trembled too badly to wield the weapon. She followed Steve’s gaze to the steady knife as she directed his chin once again with her hand. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smirk, but he couldn’t quell the regard in his eyes. She realized he was proud that she had stayed as composed as she had. Her lower half throbbed, trained like a dog to respond to pleasing him. At this point, it was a visceral reaction.

Cold blue irises tracked her every move as she lifted the blade, frowning at it before pausing to study his face. She had no more reason to dawdle. It was time to use the knife. Taking a sharp breath and holding it, she gently pulled the skin of his neck taut and dragged the edge of the knife through the layer of cream, only just scraping the surface of his flesh. It slid easily against his skin, slicing away the rough stubble until it met the edge of his carefully shaped beard.

Eden looked to him for permission to continue, but he only raised an expectant brow. Pursing her lips, she said a prayer to whoever was out there, thanking them for the fact that he was letting her work for the moment. She moved an inch to the left, and repeated the act. Mechanically she shaved Steve’s neck and jaw, moving towards his chin. As she reached the center of his neck, she scraped the knife across his skin, and he swallowed. The unexpected, fluid roll of his Adam’s apple beneath the weapon at an exaggerated degree hit the blade at just the right angle. The skin split, blood welling at the shallow broken seam. Steve didn’t so much as flinch, but Eden’s entire body froze, her breath leaving her lungs. Her brain felt like a fuzzy TV channel. She couldn’t think. Only her eyes moved, darting towards Steve’s face as she tried to gauge whether or not she had just signed her own death sentence.

When his only response was to clear his throat impatiently, she shook her head. Her thoughts were so loud her head was about to burst and her frantic inhalations sounded like those of an overheated dog.

“I can’t do this,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t. Please.”

He moved without warning, fortunate that she had the training to keep the knife steady this time. In a blink, she straddled him full on, her hands once again bracing his shoulders in confusion as he settled her body over his lap chest-to-chest, this time with her core positioned over the bulging hardness in his pants.

“Oh,” she gasped as his erection aligned with the soft cleft of her center, her eyes glazing over.

Steve groaned, his head tipping back and exposing his neck even further. At some level, Eden registered the dribble of crimson gathered at the site of the miniscule cut, but out of fear for her life, she only watched it gather idly.

After a determined exhale, Steve swiped at it, distractedly glancing at his thumb after he swept the blood away before refocusing his gaze on Eden. Unfazed, he confidently settled his hands on her hips, squeezing to gain her attention.

“Now, your angle is better. Finish the job.”

She started to position herself towards him, then stilled. Even the slightest pressure forward pressed her center against him. Fighting the urge to whine, she squeezed her eyes shut. With an uneasy breath, Eden shook herself. He wasn’t just going to allow her to leave his lap without finishing. Whether she was willing or not, he would make her complete the task.

Refreshing the used dish cloth in the bowl of water, she used it to dab at his wound and clean the knife of stubble and excess shaving cream. She hesitated for a moment before adjusting the tension of his skin, then launched back into her chore quickly, more concerned with finishing promptly than the risk of inflicting another nick or two. Her physical position was beyond precarious; the intimacy of touching his face was already overwhelming, but the feeling of his cock exactly where she wanted it when they were separated by mere barriers of fabric and fundamental ideological differences was unbearable.

Eden didn’t want to think anymore. Retreating into her mind, she went on auto-pilot. Scraping and wiping, she worked methodically until her assignment was nearly completed. It wasn’t until then she that realized that once she did finish, she would be left straddling Steve’s lap without an easy way down and no work to occupy her. Torn between the incentive of not having to endure the intimacy of touching his face and the dread of the unknown, Steve forced her hand when he started rubbing his thumbs back and forth against her thighs, buffered by the cloth of her dress. She stiffened, unable to squirm away in fear of upsetting or further arousing him, but incapable of staying stationary due to the threat of his wandering hands.

The look of amused satisfaction that came over Steve’s face frightened her. It also made her slick center throb. Certain she resembled a panicked deer with wide, leery eyes, she wet her lip, eyes flicking to the weapon in her hand.

“This needs to stop,” she warned.

Silently he dared her to break his gaze as his fingers traced the hem of her dress. Eden was keyed up on adrenaline, so focused on Steve and his predatory gaze that when his palms confidently made their way under the skirt of her dress and up her warm thighs, her reaction was instant. Clutching Steve’s knife in her fist, she made a lightning-quick move to hold the weapon to his throat. The clap of his palm catching her arm sounded before she felt his grip on her.

“Eden,” he sighed. “I’m disappointed.”

Ch. 2 What a Shame >>

Tag list: @whatsitgonnabeangelina @kakakatey @patzammit @maynay43 @readermia @the-kinky-friend @monarchofallisurvey @averyrogers83 @atthediscowithoutpanic @smollest-soybean @alexakeyloveloki @theofficialwifeeeofpietro @rania @suzieqsez @liquor-belle @sophiria @titty-teetee @mcudarklibrary

#dark!steve #dark steve x ofc #dark!steve x ofc #dark steve rogers x ofc #dark!steve rogers x ofc #mcudarklibrary

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cruciferousjex · 5 years ago

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Negociations (an Entrapdak fluff? ficlet)

Some context: Prime has begun his invasion on Etheria. After being horribly rejected by Prime and left for dead once again, Hordak is saved by Scorpia who - unable to stand his pain - tells Hordak that Entrapta is alive on Beast Island. He ofc goes to find her. At this point the two of them are hiding out on Beast Island together, as it is ironically one of the few safe places left on the planet.

>>>

They sat huddled together near the entrance of the cave, listening to the dull roar of the nighttime wildlife. Night was was by orders of magnitude louder than day on Beast Island. Night was when the shrieking birds came out, when the carnivores screamed for mates, when the great reptile beasts roared and stomped to protect their eggs. It was an insufferably atonal symphony of horrors only broken, for Hordak anyway, by the sound of Entrapra's voice, and only then because he still could not quite believe that he was hearing it, that it really was her, here, next to him, neither having betrayed him nor having been killed.

The first fear was quickly eclipsed by the second when Scorpia told him the truth of what Catra had done. He supposed he should have killed Scorpia for this betrayal, for having kept it from him as long as she did, but in the choas of the invasion she'd slipped away. He did not give chase, Scorpia was not his priority. His sole focus became Beast Island and the recovery of Entrapta, so that they might resume their research and find a way - any way - to escape the planet. Prime could not be stopped. Their only option would be to steal a ship and escape as far from the planet as was possible in this pocket universe, and then genetate a portal - to anywhere.

But tech was not on his mind as he made his way to Beast Island, nor even escape. What was on his mind - quite primarily and to his equal fascination and dismay - was her hair. As he tossed the bodies of a pirate crew off a Horde armored transport - stolen from him and his to reclaim, after all - somewhere in the back his his mind floated her hair, the soft weight of it on his shoulder, how smooth it had felt when it once or twice touched his face. Her hands, her eyes, her ... her *voice.* It was admittedly bizarre, that in the aftermath of his every failed plan, of Prime's invasion of Etheria and complete rejection of him, that the only thing he could think of, that occupied his mind day after day like a vulture pecking and gnawing on a corpse, was the hair and hands and eyes and voice of a woman who was most likely dead.

[[MORE]]

She wasn't. Of course she wasn't. He chastised himself for ever having underestimated her. She had of course survived on Beast Island, as she was brilliant and adaptable enought to survive anything, and had in fact saved him from certain death not long after his arrival there, swiping him from being ground to death in the gullet of some giant scaled and fanged horror. She tossed him out of harm's way with her hair and put the beast down via handmade crossbows she'd built from the island's steel tensile vines, the arrows tipped with poison extracted from that same vine's flowers. She was dirty, her clothes were ripped, but this was all just one more adventure to her, another opportunity to collect data. Hordak was speechless at seeing her again. She just laughed and asked what had taken him so long.

But now here they were, together again, huddled together in the dark. It was getting cold. A fire was not an option, as it would alert every wild animal in the vicinity to their presence.

"I have an idea," she said, grabbing his arm to get at the one of the armor's control panels. She used a sharpened stick to open it. She took a moment to admire the controls "Looks good. You've maintained this very well, Hordak."

"Of course," he huffed, unconsciously touching the purple carved gem at his neck. It was the last part of you I had, he didn't say. It is my treaure, my totem.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making you into a heater," she replied, and shivered. "Just reroute the temperature controls, and - there! That should work."

He gingerly touched the plate on his chest, which gradually rose in temperature. "To what degree?" he asked. "Am I to warm the whole cave?"

"I suppose I could do that but it would probably overheat and there's not a lot here to repair you with. No, this is enough to warm you, and, um ... me."

She gave him an odd look, expectant but sheepish.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I, um ...."

"What?"

She bit her lip. Gestured to him. "Can I...?"

He opened his arms to her, and she crawled into his lap.

Everything settled within him at this contact, a calm that was utterly unfamiliar to him, but was so clearly the fulfillment of weeks of despair and fear and longing. Just this, Entrapta's arms around him, her legs around his waist, the happy sigh she gave as her head came to rest against his shoulder, the metal plates of his armor warming them both. Her hair slowly, perhaps unconsciously, wrapped around them, sealing them in an odd but effectively temperate cocoon. Hordak tilted his head, placing his face right at her hairline, and closed his eyes.

Her fingers crept up to the jewel at his neck.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"Likewise," he whispered back.

His hand rose to meet hers. Their fingers intertwined.

"This should not have happened," he said.

"What should not have happened?"

"I never should have allowed Catra to take you from me."

"You can't control everything, Hordak."

He grumbled.

"We're together now, that's all that matters," she said, and wrapped herself even tighter around him. A tendril of her hair snaked forward and tenderly stroked his face. In a swift movement, before he even knew he was doing it, he pressed the tendril to his lips and shut his eyes.

When he opened them again Entrapta looked up at him wide-eyed, fascinated by this new development. A blossom of adoration opened in his chest - god, her eyes, those sweet big eyes looking up at him as though he were the moon, it was unbearable.

He tilted her chin up towards him and kissed her, a brief soft kiss.

Oh," she said, blinking.

"Oh?" he asked, his ears lowering slightly. Had he gone too far?

"I didn't know, " she said too quickly.

"You didn't *know*?" he repeated.

"I mean I didn't think about it," she replied, also too quickly.

"You didn't think about what?"

"If you - um - if you -" she stammered, flushing. " I mean - you're - your species are clones, you reproduce by cloning, doesn't that make, um ... kissing and ...and such ... redundant?"

Hordak smirked.

"Not that I thought about kissing you," she said, quickly, definitively.

"You clearly did," he said with a soft chuckle. "You clearly put quite a bit of thought into it it."

Her eyes went wide. "I meant - you know what I meant. "

He nodded and gently stroked her face. Tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. She shut her eyes.

No one's ever kissed me before," she whispered.

"Then shall I kiss you again?"

She nodded. This kiss lasted longer, and this time she returned it. Her hands rested at his shoulders. He moved to kiss the side of her mouth, her cheek, her temple, her neck. She sighed, relaxing into him.

"My species," he said between kisses, "are not all clones. The clones are Prime's invention, and he left us...intact, in that way."

"Oh," she breathed, tilting her neck so he could kiss the crook of her shoulder. "Why?"

"For the purposes of conquest," he said. "Sometimes such things are needed in certain kinds of ... negotiations. And for the establishment of dynasties. It serves Prime's purposes that his genetics are ... available. So to speak."

He kissed her ear and nuzzled up into her hair. Ah, her wonderful, prehensile, talented *hair.* He breathed deeply.

"So we're...negotiating," she said.

"I suppose."

"Establishing dynasties?"

He chuckled softly. "Eventually. Maybe. If that's what you want. We could establish a fine one," he said, not allowing thoughts of *if we survive, if we get off this planet, if we can construct another portal* to invade this moment.

"We don't need to get too far ahead of ourselves," she replied. "Let's just stick to, um...negotiations, for now."

He smirked. "As you wish, Princess. As you wish." He touched her face, stroked her hair. "Anything you wish, for as long as I'm alive."

She smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed herself against him. "Hordak," she whispered. He pressed his face to her hair, then looked out over the horizon, past the ocean, where there lay the dull glow of interplanetary war, going unnoticed by the noisy creatures of Beast Island. The amount of time he was alive might not be much longer, he realized - but it would have to be.

Entrapta touched the crystal at his neck, then his face, then rose slightly and kissed him - this time fully, with a softness and trust that dissolved him, that, if he could, he would write into the very sky.

It would have to be.

#entrapdak #Entrapta #hordak #She-Ra #fluff #ficlet #fanfiction #spop #spop fanfic

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tfw-no-tennis · 5 years ago

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One Piece Readthru

heyo ive decided its time for me to catch up on the one piece manga finally!! i last read it uhhh sometime late 2018?? MAYBE early 2019....anyways ill be liveblogging it, basically for myself but if anyone is interested then enjoy lol

so w.out further ado hers 927-931 hya

uh ok i left off kinda in the middle of the wano arc, so im scanning thru some stuff to see what i remember.....i dont really remember what the deal is with that ginger (?) pompadour guy lmao. theres a lot of new characters and intricate politics in this arc from what i remember.

i havent really gotten spoiled for anything....i know that something bad happens to kid & killer, somethins up w/sabo (but we dont know what), luffy fights kaido (more than once i think?) uhhhhh we get roger flashbacks and hear the yonkous bounties....thats abt all i really know. so im hype to find out what else has gone on....

im gonna start around 927, i defs read this but i want a refresher

wow its amazing how sanji can oscillate so fast from being unbearable and annoying to like one of my favs

i loveeee the panels where those dudes start trashing sanjis soba stand and usopps like lol lets back up yall we KNOW sanjis boutta kick some righteous ass....YESSS

franky supplexing a guy....ily franky

toko!!! i forgot abt her!!! cute kid, whats her deal? iirc she works at the uhhh wherever komurasaki works and she almost gets murderized later

sanji and little kids is so cute ;_; more of that and less stuff of him being gross w/women

ok exposition....i do remember a lot of this

928, i feel like i remember this stuff so ill kinda blow thru it

oh yeah i remember luffy n the prison shennanigans....good times

and kidds here too, talkin abt how he lost his arm trying to fight shanks...lol dude

dude is really like oh i couldnt take down shanks, so ill aim for a different yonkou, im sure this will go much better a second time (and down an arm)

omfg i forgot abt this dude who apparently sold his FAMILY to get money for komurasaki....

i think we’re supposed to feel bad for this dude and think komurasaki is cruel or w/e but man honestly i just respect the hustle. girl knows whats up

HVBJSDKFBDS I FORGOT THE HILARIOUS LINE WHERE SHES LIKE ‘I HATE POOR PEOPLE <3′ IM....its literally like a weird twitter shitpost lmaooo

they cut immediately from komurasaki to tama asking momo if he has a sister....LMAO SUBTLE......

i dont even remember if that twist was spoiled for me, but either way it was my like immediate thought upon komurasakis intro lmao

ok 929!

omg kanjuro selling some-drawn fish lol

OUGHHH CARROT AND THE OTHER MINKS....i miss carrot sm i hope she shows up more :( i really wish she would join the crew....

lmao that guy calling zoro a pretty boy and saying girls are probably all over him....zoros like uh ew no im gay

OOOH PLOT SHITTTTT....caesar and doflamingo name drops...

VEGAPUNK HM [eyes emojiey]

orochis defs gonna get fucked up at some point. his design reminds me of wapol and other like corrupt king archetypes

oguhfdbsjkgjdfbh laws head basket i forgot abt that. also i love when people call him traffy thats weirdly cute

oh right the other supernovas who became kaidous bitches are here to fight...i recall that fight somewhat

920 time!

oh yeah the weird place where all the poor starving people laugh constantly...inch resting

OHH YEAH BIG MOM!!! man i definitely read a lot further than this lmao. w/e i was SO fucking hype when she showed up, imo the whole amnesia thing is pretty lame. we’ll see where it goes tho

the art here is just so good oh man. the panel of big moms ship charging up the waterfall while she laughs? fantastic

EPIC arrival. i hope big mom gets to do cool stuff even despite the impending amnesia

i ALSO hope her kids get to do cool shit too. im still holding out for a zoro vs amande battle (if shes even there? i dont see her, but thatd be such a waste)...and smoothie vs robin....

and she wants zeus back....NAMI FIGHT??? PLEASE???

oh its bdsm dinosaur guy....hmm never thought id type that

LMAOOOO law is like Dont You Dare Fucking Snitch On Us and usopp is like uh luffy pls come pick me up this guy is too hardcore

FINAL BATTLE thats so dramatic law please

sanji saying he’ll protect usopp omfg

oooh theyre destorying all the soba shops....here comes sanji to bring the PAIN

OMFG THE RAID SUIT i forgot he busts that out....hilariously quickly all things considered

931! ok but first my obligatory thots on how sad i am abt how the women of op look nowadays lmao revisiting old one piece just makes it all the more obvious how ridiculous its gotten....like nami and robin dont even look human, its insane, and the sameface has gotten so bad...idk i miss when op women used to look normal and could just exist without being Sexy Women bc that was a thing at the beginning and i really loved that...now its just like wow all titty no waist legs are 100x longer than normal....not to mention the writing for women in op has gone way downhill...ugh. ANYWAYS onward

ofc as soon as i say that theres a rlly cute and p normal looking cover w/nami...i love her sm shes my fav character thats part of the reason this bothers me so much lol

i miss her short hair tho...the long hair is pretty and i like her different hairstyles but i defs prefer the short spunky look. i wish she wouldve gotten a cool bellmere-esque haircut after the timeskip at least

ok im p sure i didnt read this...? i dont remember hgbvhjaksdfk

GERMA THEME SONG HBVJSDUIFJBSF are you telling me that the raid suit activation process involves a THEME SONG....please i need to hear this. thats so fuckign funny

‘GERMAAAAAAAAAAA’ [sanji doing an unironic magical girl transformation] IT CANT BE OVERSTATED HOW HILARIOUS AND AMAZING THIS IS LMAOOOOOO

i think we saw this w/his siblings during whole cake but i forget lmao

of course franky and usopp are like OOOH FUCK YEAH

HHBDSJKFJSB the implications of law knowing Exactly who that is....like i really need to see an omake of a campy power rangers/sentai/whatever-esque show/comic with all these germa personas omfgggggggg

and law having read the comics is SO funny

also. sanjis hair is SO unfortunate lmaooo

O SOBA MASK HBVHSJDKUFJBDSK

germa was the bad guy group in the comics....good lmao

law was defs a fan he knows ALL the lore LMAOOO

A BABY SANJI....and then sanji being weird. skip!

ironic hows theyre like oh shit gotta challenge this dude so he doesnt destroy the town and their fight is gonna level the place anyways lmao

oh i did read this i think cause i remember all those ninja busting robin for sneaking around

which ok theyre ninja but robin could grow eyes for surveillance so it doesnt make much sense that shed be caught so easily...alas

THAT GUYS HEAD HBVHJFKD LMAO

oh yeah then big mom washes up w/amnesia lmao. i hope that plotline doesnt suck, i dont have too much hope...normally i really like amnesia plotlines and honestly i think itd be cool to explore w/like one of the strawhats but in this case it just seems kinda like a lazy way to take big mom out of the game :/ my prediction is she’ll get her memory back at a certain time thats convenient to the plot, just in time for like an all out war w/kaidou and the straw hats and the yakuza maybe? we shall see (possibly)

ok its past 6 am so its bedtime. more later!

#LJ reads one piece #thats my tag now!#one piece #my posts #liveblog

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distressedpanda · 5 years ago

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Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 10

Warnings: Language, mostly fluff but mentions of arousal. Angsty, angst, so much angst. Did I mention angst?

A/N: That’s right, you aren’t seeing things! Two posts in one day! (Pats self on back because no one else is going too!)

As always, let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat @thenatallie Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Too soon for Loki, his peace was disrupted. Iloa had slumbered soundly against his side for several hours, her warmth calming and quelling his affliction further. He felt much better than he had upon first awakening. Her warmth and their electric connection healing his very soul. The aches from small movements disappearing as he soothed the sleeping beauty in his arms.

But their undisturbed tranquility ended when Banner abruptly swung the door near the foot of the bed open. His eyes cast down, studying a clipboard in his hands as he made his way into the room.

Loki’s instincts were to growl in warning at the other man, but he held back not wishing to awaken the sleeping girl at his side. A low rumble did start the closer the other got to the bed, causing Loki to further notice the lack of pain. Banner finally looked up, assessing the sight before him with clinical analysis. Then he smiled.

“You’re awake,” Banner said, keeping his voice low.

Loki was stunned, he had assumed the doctor would demand the removal of the girl from his person. Schooling his features, “Obviously,” he deadpanned. Sure he had become alarmingly open with Iloa, but that didn’t mean he was going to change who he was around anyone else.

Banner had gone about gathering items from the cabinets and depositing them carefully on the metal rolling table. “I am happy to see that she is finally sleeping.”

The sincerity behind that statement brought back Loki’s earlier thoughts, “How long have I been out?” he asked again.

Banner tilted his watch up to look at, “Almost seven days now.”

Loki couldn’t stop the huff that escaped him, “Well I suppose that is over 24 hours,” he blanched, glancing back down at Iloa.

“Ha, is that what she told you?” When Loki nodded in conformation, still looking down at the girl, the doctor continued. “I guess she didn’t want you to know how bad it was. Honestly, I didn’t know if you would wake up again.” Banner rolled the table over to the side of the bed.

“No need to worry, doctor,” Loki scoffed, finally looking back to the man. “I will not make the mistake of leaving her again,” unintentionally the words came out low and threatening. He didn’t think the doctor would remove the girl, but he couldn’t stop the incessant need to let anyone know that she would not be made to leave his side.

Banner lifted his hands in front of him, grinning, “Easy with the tone there, don’t want to anger the green monster. I am not making her leave or vice versa,” he chuckled. “I am just happy to see that she is finally sleeping. She has barely even rested all week.”

Loki inwardly blanched at the mention of the doctors alter ego, but kept his tone neutral. “How long was she out?”

“Only a few hours,” Banner admitted, reaching a tentative hand out to the other. “She refused to leave your side. Been in that chair since she woke up.” He held a blue cuff in his hand in an attempt to wrap it around Loki’s left arm. He cleared his throat before adding, “May I?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, “You have been treating me without my consent for an entire week and now you are asking permission?” He snarled at the other, annoyed by the stupidity of his question.

Banner actually flinched at Loki’s tone, taking a steadying breath. “Well, you weren’t awake then.”

Loki scoffed, “Oh just get on with it,” he growled, returning his focus and attention back to Iloa. He knew he was tempting fate, but it really was a stupid question.

Wrapping the cuff around Loki’s bicep, Banner set about checking his vitals. Loki focused on the way Iloa’s eyes suddenly raced behind her closed lids, her breathing becoming small gasps. Fearing she was having a nightmare, he tightened his arm around her. Calm yourself, my dear. He thought, knowing she couldn't hear him. But he would not voice such things in front of anyone but her. Hopefully his thoughts would be enough, for now. I will not leave you. Never again. Running his fingers soothingly through her curls and shushing the panicked thing at his side. With supreme satisfaction, he felt her breathing calm and her eyes slowed to lazy sweeps behind her closed lids.

“You really care for her don’t you?” the doctor's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up to see the doctor’s eyes filled with wonder.

Loki sneered at the man, “I do not see how that is any of your concern,” he bit out. Emotions, mortal emotions were a threat to his very livelihood. If he admitted to even one emotion, one fault, how many others would he feel the need to divulge? How many faults did he truly have? How many needed to be apologized for? He inwardly groaned at that thought. Save for Iloa, he had only honestly apologized to Frigga before.

Banner shook his head, “You’re right, none of my business.”

The doctor started to rub some type of cream across the gashes on his arm, “What happened?” he asked, remembering that he hadn’t gotten an answer from Iloa.

“The Russians,” Banner stated bluntly, returning the jar to the tray at his side. Loki quirked an eyebrow at the man, expecting more of an explanation. Banner sighed, “They were trying to retrieve the nuclear material, using the guise of being a part of the construction crew to gain access to the tower. Stark hadn’t stored the material at the Tower, though I suppose they were unaware of that fact. They set charges on their way out, luckily empty handed, and blew the Tower.”

Upon his clarification, Loki turned his gaze back to Iloa again. She would, had, thought this was all her fault. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but it was a fact that he could feel in his heart. Perhaps her fear to tell him of her injuries, her low volume attempt to mask the wrong cords of her voice, perhaps even the guilt in her unnatural lilt. Maybe it was the fact that he now knew she hadn’t slept in seven days. But he knew she would blame herself for everything. He thanked the Gods that he had somehow managed to survive.

“Not that I care,” he stated carefully, narrowing his eyes to further clarify that fact, “But is anyone else injured?”

Banner smiled, causing Loki to sneer in displeasure before the doctor answered, “Injured, yes. But everyone is fine. Oddly enough, everyone else was on the lower floors. You were the only person injured this severely. Stark, Thor and I were in the labs. Steve wasn’t in the tower, neither were Clint or Sam. Natasha,” he said her name with reverence and a little guilt, Loki quirked his eyebrow at the change in his tone. Banner cleared his throat, casting his eyes down momentarily, “She was in the elevator. It went into free fall, but the emergency brakes activated at about floor 65. She suffered a concussion, but no other injuries.” Looking back up then, that unbearably professional smile plastered on his lips again, “But other than that, you and Iloa were the only ones actually inside the blast radius. We were all lucky.”

Loki nodded, taking in the new information. He had to agree they had been extremely lucky.

When Banner finished as much as he could without waking Iloa, including removing the IV from his arm, “So your vitals look much better, amazing in fact. And the rest of you seems to be ahead of schedule, as far as healing. I still need to change the bandage on your back,” he held up a hand as a low rumble emitted from Loki’s chest, “But that can wait until Iloa wakes up on her own. Have her come get me from the lab and I will take care of it then.”

Loki nodded, watching the doctor put his supplies away and then exit the room.

“You should have let him change it,” Iloa’s sleep riddled drawl cutting into the silence, nearly made Loki jump off the bed.

He slapped his free hand over his heart and Iloa couldn’t hold in the small giggle that escaped her throat, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki glared down at her, but it had a playful edge that made Iloa sigh happily, “I was not scared. Startled perhaps, but definitely never scared,” he drawled, watching her grin grow into a genuine smile, that had his heart aching for a different reason altogether. Her tone was still off and she was still keeping her voice low, but he had to admit it was sounding better. Perhaps all she needed was the recovering power of deep sleep.

She nodded, “Yeah, sure,” she chided gently. She wiggled slightly, needing to stretch her tired muscles but still very aware that she could hurt him if she moved too much.

As if reading her mind, Loki hesitantly removed his hand from her hair. He dropped his arm to the bed behind her, effectively releasing her from his hold. She smiled again, sitting up slowly and dangling her legs over the side of the bed. Loki watched in rapt silence, as she lifted her arms over her head, clasping one wrist and arching her back deliciously. The resounding pop though small, rang through the quiet room.

Loki unconsciously licked his lips, a steady ache curling low in his stomach, his eyes dancing across the arch and curve of her petite frame. Suddenly, he needed to hide a very noticeable bulge beneath the sheets at his waist. He coughed, tearing his eyes away. This was neither the time nor place for such things to be capturing his thoughts. He took slow steadying breaths, drawing his knees up slightly to hide the embarrassing growth between his legs. A sharp pain lit his skin on fire at the motion, effectively deflating the hardness between his thighs. He bit back a groan, hissing sharply through his teeth.

Iloa spun around to look at him, placing a hand on his bare chest. “Loki, what happened?” her panicked voice rang harshly through the room. Her eyes frantically darted across his form before settling on his green gaze again.

So much for the healing powers of sleep, he thought.

He chuckled darkly, breathing in her ocean scent letting her fingers envelope him in warmth and soothing electric energy before he answered, “I moved.” At her inquiring eyebrow lift, he explained, “I lifted my knees, you were no longer in contact with me and I felt pain again.” With her hand planted firmly on his chest, he tested the movement again. Slightly lifting his knees from the bed, he felt a dull ache that was perfectly manageable. He quirked his brow at her as though that should answer everything.

Iloa breathed shakily, whispering in awe, “It really does help,” tentatively she moved her hand away from his chest only to place it on his slightly lifted knee, her eyes tracking the movement of her hand. She pushed his knee gently back to the bed. He hissed again and her hand shot back to his chest again. “I am so sorry,” she blurted.

Loki nodded, “It would appear that it has to be skin-to-skin contact,” he clarified. Her blue gaze locked on his again. Lifting the arm still behind her, he rested his open palm against her cheek, “You haven’t slept nearly long enough. You need more rest, join me again?” he pleaded, feeling more open and vulnerable than ever before.

She smiled and shook her head gently, “You need to be treated fully, before I would be comfortable with that.” She nuzzled his hand briefly before pulling away, his arm falling heavily back to the bed, she stood up next to the bed. “Besides, I have to talk to Thor.” Loki’s features turned into one giant question mark and Iloa chuckled at him. Placing a reassuring hand over his, “He asked me to let him know when you woke up. I will return and it will give you some privacy when Banner changes your bandages.”

Loki captured her hand quickly, “But it will hurt more if you aren’t here,” he breathed, hating how small and exposed his voice sounded. He almost wanted to take it back, until he was rewarded with her warm endearing smile.

“If you want to keep your dignity, you don’t want me in the room,” she tried to convince him. “You are naked under that sheet, Loki,” she added with a small chuckle.

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a deep, husky whisper, “Who said anything about maintaining my dignity?”

Iloa gasped audibly, she could feel heat bloom across her cheeks. Desire pooled low in her belly and she fought to keep her mind in safe territory. “Loki,” she warned, breathlessly.

Loki grinned evilly at the flush gracing Iloa’s beautiful features. He simply couldn’t resist tempting that flush, injuries be damned. “Don’t lie,” he teased, tugging her hand and drawing her back to his side. He trailed his hand slowly up her arm to flex his fingers across her shoulder blade. He drew her closer and she hesitantly lowered herself, placing her hands firmly on the bed. He lowered his head, brushing his lips teasingly across the shell of her ear, relishing the shiver that ran through her body. It took every ounce of willpower Iloa had to keep from melting into a puddle at Loki’s side. “You have wondered about what is under this sheet, haven’t you?” Loki breathed directly into her ear.

She shot up and away from his hold, “Loki,” she snapped, her cheeks growing from the pale pink to an alarming shade of red, “If you weren’t already injured, I would put you in here myself, you ass,” she growled and spun on her heels heading for the door.

He chuckled, groaning slightly already missing the loss of her contact, “But you love me for it,” he countered boldly.

She paused hand on the door handle, sinful thoughts dancing through her mind. Finding a daring thread of her own, she turned back to him. Her own eyes darkening, she took sure, confident steps back to him. Grinning at the audible inhale that crossed his lips at her approach. She lent forward quickly, before her brain could kick in with the logical excuse that she shouldn’t do this and captured his lips in a quick heated kiss. A low moan escaped his throat, before she pulled back to look him dead in the eyes, “I do,” she whispered, then turned leaving a very surprised Loki alone in the room, before he could even respond.

“Damn,” was the only word he could think to express the obvious turn over of control. But he found himself grinning as he thought, It isn’t so bad to lose control. . . sometimes.

#loki fanfic #loki x ofc #tom hiddleston loki #angst

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