Those who didn't find it romantic -- or who looked for romance in all things were fools anyway. Loki was not always good with the words for it, but he loved Stephen and that meant in all ways. He was endeared by the delivery of milkshakes at odd times, and by sensual slow sex and cuddling afterward. And he also liked being fucked so hard he had to hold onto something in order to not fall over.
One day, Loki rather hoped to break some furniture in the process.
Naked seemed the only way to go against a texture like the almost-felt of the pool table. While Stephen tore at his pants, Loki tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off -- although the little golden crown remained. His grin was shit eating and sharp, a threat as much as a promise. If there wasn't some blood drawn by the time they were done, they hadn't done a proper job. "Come on," he said, absolutely a demand.