Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-04-29 13:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, marvel (tv/movies): stephen strange, → week 035 (canon puncture) |
CANON PUNCTURE | DAY 4
He was here to settle an infuriating, albeit enjoyable, game of cat-and-mouse.
Loki just hadn’t decided yet which role he wanted to play. Up until this point, he’d been playing both. But it seemed to him, particularly after his recent conversation with Strange on the network, that now was a good time to pick a part.
“I do hope none of these plants are poisonous,” he said, drawing his fingers over a bright orange flower that looked like it might snap on him if he got too close to the stigma. “There’s no lifeguard on duty, after all.”
A brush of pollen stuck to his fingertip and he brought it to his lips. And then, against his own warning, he licked it. Sweet, but not deadly.
“Pity.” He wiped the remnants off on his jeans. “I guess I won’t be needing mouth-to-mouth.”
Loki walked around the jacuzzi and stopped near the edge of the pool. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and stood at a cant. The pose of impatience. “Alright, Strange. Come out from behind your bushes and let’s get this over with before I change my mind.”
From their private conversation over the network, Stephen knew Loki was coming and had mentally prepared for his shenanigans, but was stubbornly determined not to give Loki the satisfaction of thinking he could show up and immediately get his attention. So when Loki did arrive, he continued doing exactly what he was doing, which was basically gardening. Yes, he could’ve used sorcery to do the job in a fraction of the time, but there was something rewarding about doing it with his own two hands.
Two hands that ached with the dull pain of nerve damage, making him reevaluate his choice and decide maybe he ought to hold off on the work until Rita returned from lunch. He was due for a break himself, so he stopped not because of Loki’s arrival… the timing just happened to coincide.
Stephen stood, hand resting on a shovel that was planted in the rich, black soil of Dino-World, watching but not responding until he was directly addressed. “You finally finished parading around?” His eyebrows rose high, questioning. “What happened to lady Loki and her swimming laps?”
Loki gave a halfhearted shrug. Purposeful nonchalance. If Strange wanted to continue playing the avoidance game then Loki could oblige. He was, in truth, in no rush. No hurry. Loki liked the game as it was. He enjoyed chasing and being chased. He enjoyed seeing how many buttons he could push before he forced someone into action. Or, in Strange’s case, before he went too far and rankled his ire. Pricked his temper. It was a fun exchange. And just as it had been in New York, it was an exciting distraction from Loki’s problems.
Sometimes it was more fun to play the game than to win. And so far the payoff of playing was more enticing to Loki than the anticipatory end result.
That’s why he’d left Strange in the hot tub by himself. That’s why Loki’d refused to touch him. Well, and maybe a little bit of that was also revenge for being dropped off in a penthouse suite and left on his own.
And no, he would never get over that.
“I had a change of heart. Besides, if I showed up looking like that then you’d never get any gardening done. But who knows. I’m whimsical. I may change my mind again at any moment.” Loki rolled up the cuff of his jeans and dipped his toes in the water. It was a nice temperature. Perhaps not for lap swimming, but just floating could be nice.
Loki would never admit it out loud, but he appreciated this new pool area. Derleth was dangerous for him when there was nothing to do. A bored Loki was no good to anyone. When he was bored he did unthinkable things. The pool was a distraction. It was a materialistic comfort. And it probably saved a lot of people from some of Loki’s more chaotic antics.
“And I do not parade around.” Except he did. Even when he wasn’t conscious of it, Loki was doing whatever he could to garner attention.
Loki walked away from the pool and closed more of the distance between them, making his way over to the area where Strange was gardening. “You seem quite composed for a man who not moments ago was complaining about how eagerly he wanted to … How did you phrase it? Fuck me raw? I must admit, your crude use of language surprised me.”
Distraction - that was also Stephen’s excuse for focusing on the pool. Keeping his mind and body busy in a project when Derleth wasn’t surviving in a jungle against Dinosaurs or inhospitable arctic climates like Hoth, something productive and even relaxing… a hobby. Hugh had his Shakespeare, Fandral used to work on clearing a space on the Green… why couldn’t Stephen’s be the pool? Besides, it was an improvement everybody could take advantage of and enjoy. Gardening wasn’t an activity he liked before, and he could honestly say he still didn’t like it. Once these plants were put in, it would hopefully be the last time he’d ever get his hands dirty with soil, but having started the task he would see it to its completion.
Loki was another one of his distractions. Their back-an-forth comments over the network trying to one-up the other had grown over time from simply amusing to now having Stephen seriously consider having sex with Loki. “You’re parading around now,” he flatly said, taking off his work gloves and tossing them together on the ground, then quoted what Loki had just said, imitating his voice in a mockingly poor way, “Oooo, I’m whimsical!” He used jazz hands for emphasis, rolling his eyes, sarcastically. “Oooo, I may change my mind again at any moment!’ More jazz hands, followed by a smug smirk.
Standing with his hands on his hips, he continued, “I’m composed because I’m way more in control of myself than you.” His voice was confident, but the way he gazed over Loki told a different story, eyes glinting with desire. Who was he trying to fool? Loki would likely see right through him. And he certainly wasn’t fooling himself.
“Is that what you like? Crude language?”
Strange hit a nerve. To be fair, he hit quite a few and quite often. But most of the time they were over texts and Loki didn’t have to show his frustration or, sometimes, his hurt. He didn’t know if Strange was cognizant of the fact that he sometimes stabbed too deeply with his words. Maybe he assumed Loki was strong enough to get over it. Maybe he didn’t think Loki cared. Worse had been said about him, after all. Maybe Strange didn’t care. Regardless, Loki was bothered by the mockery. And Strange did see through his antics too quickly. He was right. That’s what made it all the more infuriating for Loki.
He frowned. Lips pursed together in a thin line while his forehead furrowed. He didn’t even try to hide it.
And Loki was quickly reminded of how much he hated the stupid Sorcerer Un-Supreme.
Sometimes like simply didn’t get along with like. And the two of them shared far too many similarities of ego and narcissism. Then again, that’s also what made their escalating banter so enjoyable. It was a bit like arguing with himself.
“I like a lot of things,” Loki said. He’d lost that earlier playfulness to his tone. Now he stared at Strange like he might try to rip his limbs off. Loki really needed to work on that temper of his. “First and foremost being respect.”
Without that Strange could keep his crude language, and his touch, to himself. Loki may have been a villain. He may have done horrible things. He may have even warranted the cutting criticism. But he still had feelings.
Loki turned, facing his entire physique to Strange directly. His posture changed. He wasn’t tense or closed off. He was loose, less angry. But not entirely as coquettish as he’d been when he entered. Strange just made the game harder for himself.
Loki looked Strange up and down. An obvious sizing up of his appearance and attire. He made sure to enunciate the bored notes of his expression. To show that he was not impressed. Then he met his eyes and smirked. Because Loki did see that desire in his gaze. “Is that any way to talk to a king? To a god? To someone who can fulfill your every carnal desire? Try again, Doctor.”
Stephen understood the need to treat Loki with kid gloves, that his mood could and would change at a turn of a dime and how dangerous that could be. However, when caught up in the whole battle of the wits, Stephen's competitive nature, his need to be right, had him forgetting this. The last time he’d done so had Loki drawing his blood over a poker game when his gloating went too far.
The shift in mood was evident, and caused Stephen to deeply sigh and glance away, though he did refrain from rolling his eyes again. The saying, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he smacked his lips together to prevent making the situation even worse. It got him wondering if it was even worth it anymore, dealing with this Asgardian ego. How the hell did Mobius, and before that Fandral, deal with it? A strong part of Stephen wanted to walk away and leave Loki standing there like the child he was, and he seriously considered this.
But an even stronger part was too stubborn to give up. It had gotten to a point in Stephen’s mind that walking away was akin to defeat, and the last thing we wanted was to give Loki more ammunition. It was a challenge, and if anything Stephen always enjoyed a challenge, whether it was performing surgery or sorcery. He breathed, and with his exhale consciously released the tension he let Loki create in his body, released his egotistical pride. In doing so, his own expression and posture softened.
“Would you care for a drink?” he asked, and conjured from the pool bar a bottle and two glasses, which floated off to the side within reach. The bottle, a type of white wine, poured itself and that was on purpose - Stephen’s hands were aching from manual labor and when that happened they quaked more than usual… he was not confident that he’d be able to pour it himself without spilling and causing embarrassment. He held his glass but didn’t sip.
The words Stephen spoke had to be carefully weighed… he wanted to complement, but not flatter. Loki was in a prickly mood and might go sour no matter what was said, but he’d give his best shot.
“You’ve got to understand,” Stephen calmly began, meeting Loki’s eyes. “This little repartee we have going here?” he motioned with his finger between the two of them, There’s nobody else in Derleth that I speak with like I do with you. Silver tongued, that’s one of your names, and it’s true. That’s because there’s nobody else with your kind of intelligence and wit. You’re more than a match for me, and sometimes… in my enthusiasm…” the corner of his lip quirked upward and he gave a reluctant shrug, “... I get carried away. And for that I apologize. I enjoy the sophistication of your company more than you know, but with it comes familiarity, and I forget with whom I’m dealing with… Asgardian nobility.”
He finished with an incline of his head, a respectful bow, and a slow, enchanting blink..
The difference between Mobius and Fandral and the illustrious Doctor Stephen Strange was that Mobius and Fandral cared about Loki. They didn’t just find him attractive and amusing. They liked him. More than liked him. And they had a friendship with Loki that went beyond the physical relationship.
Loki didn’t know if he could consider Strange a friend. Loki enjoyed the banter and the come-uppance. He had fun with the challenge of trying to put the sorcerer ill at ease. He liked taunting him. And, naturally, he loved the attention. Even when Strange was angry with him or annoyed, he paid him attention. He provoked Loki and Loki provoked him back. And it gave Loki great pleasure to see how lascivious they could get without actually doing anything about it. As destructive and sometimes demeaning as their words were to each other, it felt like a safe game. Because Loki was absolutely positive that Strange would never fall in love with him. Strange would never turn around and surprise him like Fandral had. He knew that Strange simply wanted the conquest. And Loki wallowed in the power that gave him.
The power of not giving in to him.
The power of knowing that it irked Strange more than anything else in Derleth.
Of course, Loki knew it couldn’t last forever. Eventually Strange would either give up or Loki would give in. He hadn’t decided yet which it would be. It seemed to teeter every week. Truth be told, if it had been Loki in Strange’s place, he probably would have given up by now. There were other fish in the sea. Fish that Loki was fairly certain Strange was already swimming with. Which was, of course, what made Strange’s obsession with him all the more enticing. That Strange could charm others and still be lusting after him? There was no better ego boost.
And it was moments like this, when Strange turned the tables in an unexpected direction, that kept Loki’s attention.
He raised his brows at the bottle, eyeing it carefully to make sure it wasn’t that same stuff which had basically knocked him out for half a day. When the glass was offered to him, Loki took it cautiously, half expecting a trick. But before he could take a sip, the sorcerer jumped into an even more unanticipated response.
Sophisticated. Intelligent. Nobility.
Well, shit. Loki didn’t see that coming. Not in a tone that actually sounded … truthful.
He blinked. “Fuck.”
Loki ran his tongue thoughtfully over his front teeth and then downed the entire contents of his wine glass. Then he held it back out towards the floating bottle. He’d definitely need a refill to finish this conversation.
“You do realize that you only get one first time with me, right? And I’m fickle. It could be the only time. No doubt it might wither the flames of our witty repartee. Is that what you want? Really? Because I know you’re not desperate for bedmates. You have your little actress, after all. Granted, I understand that there’s no comparison to this.” Loki waved a hand to indicate the entirety of himself. “But I want you to really think about this for a moment. Think about what you’re asking and about what that will change.”
Cue that simpering smirk.
If Stephen’s articulate apology sounded truthful, it was because it was. After his ego was removed from the conversation, it was easy to give Loki the polite respect he demanded, without going overboard with flowery compliments that would come across as being sarcastic or insincere. He didn’t even react when Loki uttered his curse, but remained straight faced, although a part of his was pleased that he was able to turn this conversation around from the brink of disaster after pissing off Loki that much.
Stephen took a drink from his own glass at the same time, but only a small sip, and he caused the bottle to tip and refill Loki’s glass. It would’ve been simple to throw Loki’s concern out the window, dismissing it as another parade, but again Stephen reminded himself to slow down and listen, slightly tilting his chin up as his gaze drifted away in thought.
Was getting physical with Loki something he really wanted? And how much would change as a result?
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” he finally said, looking back confidently. “But I wonder, does this mean you’ve made the same consideration for yourself?” Because to Stephen, it sounded like Loki had.
“Personally, I wish you’d taken the initiative in New York. That would have been really nice timing. That was a lovely evening. The end of the night aside, I rate that as one of my top five favorite experiences in Derleth. And not just because I enjoyed the banter and the special treatment. But because I know why you did it.”
Loki and Strange had never really talked about the extra attentiveness Strange gave him after the ghost week. Learning of Natasha’s death had really broken Loki. It had been a dangerous moment, not just for Loki’s psyche but for the rest of Derleth. Not many people had worried about him after that. Strange had. But Loki wasn’t oblivious. He knew the concern was twofold. Both for Loki himself as well as the rest of them. Strange had the same worries about Wanda on any given week.
But it did mean something to Loki that Strange was paying attention. That he was looking out for him.
Even if it never went further than that.
“I’m a villain, Stephen. I have no problem separating my feelings from my physical actions.” Loki sipped the wine and then reached out to draw an index finger down the center of Strange’s chest, starting at the soft spot at the center of his neck and trailing over his t-shirt. He let go after he reached the end of the breastplate near the xiphoid process. “Can you?”
Here he goes again, Stephen thought, sealing his mouth together in a tight frown. Loki brings up how he abandoned him in that NYC hotel room. However, this reiteration was different in that Loki admitted how much he enjoyed their evening together, and acknowledging his motivation behind it. This time Stephen scrutinized Loki’s expression carefully, trying to find any indication of deceit, but finally decided it didn’t really matter.
“My reason,” Stephen countered, trying to downplay his role, “was to prove to you dried fruit could be just as delicious as candy.” He relented a little by admitting, “And to prove to myself that I could spark the interest in somebody whose standards were as high as my own.” He then gave a little shrug, breaking eye contact and looking away. “If it helped improve your mood? Then I’m glad.”
This was his way of saying you’re welcome without actually using those words.
His expression fell even further while thinking about that evening, and he took another sip of wine before continuing, “I should’ve taken the initiative. I don’t know why I didn’t. It certainly wasn’t because of Allison.. . she’d chosen to sleep with Fandral on her birthday.” His voice betrayed how irritated he still felt over her decision. Another sigh later, and the tone was gone, replaced by one that was more introspective. “Actually, that’s not true. I do know. I didn’t think you’d be interested, so I turned myself away before you could.” He quickly glanced over his shoulder to check Loki’s reaction, concerned about what reaction he’d get, in a way that was almost daring Loki to make fun of him.
The shadow of pressure where Loki’s finger had been on his chest lingered, and Stephen flashed a crooked smile. “I don’t think being a villain has anything to do with that.” He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it deciding that maybe he shouldn’t, but then changing his mind to go forward and say it anyway. “The reason why I broke up with Allison was because she wanted more than just a casual relationship. I’m not willing or eager to be emotionally tied down. And the reason it upset me when Allison chose to go with Fandral instead of me? Was because I was planning something and expected I’d be her first choice. How am I supposed to follow after the Asgardian god of sex,” he spoke the title with bitter sarcasm, wobbling his head a bit to make fun of Fandral, but it was clear his pride had taken a blow that night. He punctuated the end of his sentence with another sip of wine.
This was his long way of responding to Loki’s question, Can you?, by implying, Yes, I can.
The more Strange spoke, the more he revealed, the more Loki was careful to steel his expression and hide his initial reaction to the words. To say he was surprised was, well, an understatement. Loki never expected to receive an honest explanation from Strange about anything. True, they’d shared something of a moment when Loki helped the sorcerer adjust to his new memories, but that had been different. Strange had needed something from Loki then. And Loki was curious to see what lengths he was capable of going magically in Derleth. He also wanted to test how far Strange was willing to trust him.
This was different. Despite the fact that Strange was very cautiously minding his words so as not to completely deflate his own ego, Loki felt an earnestness in what he was saying. And that gave Loki pause.
Were they friends? Now he wasn’t quite sure.
“First of all, Fandral is not the Asgardian God of Sex. Technically, he’s not even a god. I understand there has been some confusion about that, but god is not and never has been in his title. So, let’s not give credit where it’s not due.” There was a little bit of a bite to Loki’s words. His memories of Fandral had returned after his altercation with the King of Space in the other Derleth’s Desolation. And Loki was still wounded by that betrayal. He was dealing with it, but he was of a firm mind to put his foot down whenever the topic of that particular warrior came up.
He and Strange could both share some of that bitterness.
“I won’t speak to anyone else’s taste, but for myself, if I’d been given the choice between Fandral and you…” Loki paused for dramatic effect. Then he tilted his head from one side to the other, a smirk playing on his lips. “Fandral is too polite. He’s not my equal in any arena. Never will be. I don’t mind soft lovemaking or romance, but I demand personality. I enjoy a weighty conversation. I like someone who isn’t afraid of pain. Someone who can keep up. I enjoy a long foreplay and a willingness to break the rules. I don’t like simpering in the bedroom. And I would rather have enthusiastic inexperience than tedious routine.”
Loki took a sip of wine. “And I love a good cape.”
“I was being sarcastic,” Stephen said, shaking his head in disbelief - he thought his tone of voice was enough to give Loki the clue that he didn’t actually think Fandral was a god. There was a time in Derleth, however, when he was sleeping around so much that he practically was. Stephen himself only just arrived and hadn’t taken part of any of the free love that was happening on campus, when all you had to do was write over the network that you wanted sex, and there was usually a positive response. Now? Meh. Stephen wasn’t the type to brazenly advertise like that himself, and even the actress he was said to be woo-ing, Rita… she was hiding something from him, but he didn’t know what.
The way Loki was overthinking and making this more complicated than necessary? Stephen’s attention began to wane.
That is, until he realized that Loki was speaking about his intimate relationship with Fandral in Derleth. Had Loki regained his memories? What changed? How did it happen? Stephen turned back around, on the verge of asking these questions, but then abruptly cut himself off when the conversation switched again.
Okay, maybe this was Stephen’s ego reading into this, but it sure sounded like Loki was insinuating that they were equals? Complimenting him on his personality? He was mildly flattered… until…
“Waaaaait a second. Inexperience? Excuse me?”
At the mention of sarcasm with regards to Fandral, Loki merely raised his shoulders in a bored shrug. He didn’t want to talk about Fandral. That was a bitter pill which would only worsen his mood if he spent too much time dwelling on it. Besides, Strange might have been sarcastic, but Loki wasn’t. He had a very strong opinion—Magician-based evidence aside—on who was and wasn’t a god.
And, for the record, Loki didn’t think Strange was his equal on everything. Maybe not in anything. But he was close in many areas. Or, at least, closer than most in Derleth. Mostly magic and intelligence and taunting satire. And for that Loki could garnish some respect for him.
But he wasn’t lying when he said he enjoyed Strange’s company. Even if it did often come with a temper tantrum on the part of one of them or ended in a rush of frustration. Loki knew that he was as much to blame for that as the other man. He partly did it on purpose, after all.
Loki rolled his eyes when Strange misinterpreted his meaning. “I’m not talking about you. Although, you haven’t existed on the mortal plane for very long, so the word isn’t entirely incorrect.” Smirk. “What I mean is that I would rather give my time to someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing but is motivated to impress than someone who has memorized the pageantry.”
Loki finished off his glass of wine and set it down on one of those lounge tables. Then he took out his phone as though to check his messages. “So, what’s the verdict?”
He held up his phone and took a selfie of himself making a kissy face and a peace sign. Then he glanced over at Strange. “Are we going to flip a coin or…?”
Stephen took the hint… as curious as he was, he wouldn’t bring up Fandral again. At least not at this time. Anyway, the primary thing he was concerned about was Loki’s mental stability, and he doubted Loki would ever reveal his mind about that.
I’m not talking about you. Stephen’s eyebrows rose but chose not to say what he really wanted, which was, Oh, right. There’s somebody else who has a Cloak that you’re obsessed over. No, he’d hold his tongue this time since Loki already had a tantrum about being disrespected. He wasn’t even going to argue that between his repeated deaths by Dormammu, the fourteen million plus alternative ways to defeat Thanos seen by the Time Stone, and the memory of him spending centuries studying dark magic and absorbing the power of mystical entities, he’d technically existed on the mortal plane for much longer than it seemed. Sometimes it was beneficial to be underestimated.
Speaking of pageantry… there he goes again, Loki parading, this time taking selfies. Stephen wasn’t going to rise to the bait. He remained standing still, his face a blank slate, though when he saw Loki was finished, he dispelled the wine bottle and the drinking glasses including his own, causing them to seemingly disappear in thin air.
“The verdict on what, exactly?”
The selfie was important. Loki had made a promise to Mobius that if he was going to fraternize with anyone that he would stop, take a selfie of himself, and send it off to Mobius as a kind of warning. Granted, Loki had joked that he would take the selfie in the middle of his rendezvous, but despite Mobius’s jests Loki didn’t think he really wanted that. They were still in the early stages of this sharing experiment and Loki didn’t want to push the boundaries too far. He was still hedging his bets. Regardless, the selfie, whilst it may have appeared to be a moment of vanity, was a preparation for what might occur.
Judging by Strange’s question, however, it didn’t look like it would be necessary.
Loki sighed. Then he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Perhaps the timing was wrong. Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t right. Maybe Loki was misinterpreting the sorcerer’s words. Strange wanted him, didn’t he? Wasn’t that what they were talking about? Wasn’t that what they were trying to decide?
“The verdict on what we’re going to do this afternoon.”
Loki held out his hand, palm up. A greenish magical glow emanated from his palm and quickly disappeared, leaving behind an elaborately decorated coin. It wasn’t of any Midgardian origin, nor was it of Asgard. Perhaps it was something drawn from the depths of Loki’s mind. He flipped it in the air towards Strange, waiting for him to catch it, before he spoke.
“If it’s heads, you decide. If it’s tails…” Loki shrugged. “Then I guess I’m going for that swim.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. That was the look Stephen had while giving Loki a staredown. Hadn’t he made his intentions clear enough? Did he have to spell it out to him in large fireworks across the sky? He didn’t mind working to impress somebody, but this was now ridiculous. As far as he was concerned, the mood was spoiled with Loki’s theatrics, which was a real shame. The coin was even embossed with Loki’s face.
With one hand he snatched the coin that was thrown to him and held it in his grip and patiently listened to Loki’s gambit. “I have a different idea,” he said, changing the rules and in doing so taking control. He held up his closed hand and slowly opened his fingers like a street magician doing a cheap trick to reveal the coin had disappeared.
“When the mood is right, and the stars are aligned…,” he said using an ooky spooky voice while waving his hand across an imaginary sky to be his own kind of dramatic. “... I’ll cash in on this coin, Give it back to you.” He then casually reached out to gently tuck Loki’s long hair behind his right ear. “And give you another lovely evening. But this time…” Stephen leaned over and purred into Loki’s exposed ear. “.. I’m not going to make the same mistake by leaving you.” He straightened, and the look in his eyes were burning with lust. “In case you didn’t understand, I’m going to fuck you till you can’t see straight.”
A pause. “Go. Swim. I’m going to sit here and take a break.” Upon saying that, he lowered himself into the nearest poolside chair, hands intertwined and resting on his lap, but he remained staring at Loki with the intention of watching.
The stars definitely weren’t aligned this afternoon. Maybe they were both misinterpreting each other. Or perhaps it was a case of neither of them being willing to release control. Whatever the reason, it was clear that today was not the day for whatever it was that was going on between them. Was Loki disappointed? Yes and no. But mostly he thought that the situation could be better. Not just for him, but for Strange. This wasn’t the right time. And this wasn’t the right set of circumstances. Especially if this was going to be a one time thing. Which, Loki presumed, it would be.
But when Strange leaned in close to his ear, Loki felt his breath catch in his chest. Strange could have turned the tables then. He could have easily convinced Loki to give in; to release the demands of his ego for just long enough. And it wasn’t just one thing that sped up his heart and enticed the craving between his legs. It was the cheap magic trick, the fingers brushing his hair behind his ear, the hot breath of whispers on his skin.
And then the threat. Or a promise. It sent a shiver through his nerves, tingling the sadistic edge of his desire.
Loki had to restrain himself from reaching out and touching him back. Because he knew if he did then he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he’d also be relenting the dominant role.
Thankfully, Strange broke the distance between them before Loki could make a bad decision. He watched as the sorcerer slumped down in one of the pool chairs. But Strange was determined to win this interaction. That was the point of the game though, wasn’t it? To see who could end up on top.
Maybe Loki would give this one to Strange.
He grinned. Then a green glow spread over his entire body, from top to toe. When it was gone Loki was in her more feminine form. She stood tall, but with one hip canted to the side, hair swooping longer over her shoulders. She wore a two piece that left very little to the imagination. Strange had seen Loki nude during the week on Hoth. But he’d never seen her like this. Long, lithe, and curving in places where she was normally cut in sharp angular lines.
“I’ll be looking forward to those stars aligning then,” Loki said with a wink. Then she turned her back to Strange and sashayed her way to the pool, slowly slipping into the water.
This wasn’t the first time Stephen had seen Loki present as a woman. It was the party that on Hoth, and Loki wore a flattering green dress that accentuated her curves. . She certainly caught his attention then, but this bathing suit was entirely a different matter…undressing her with his eyes wasn’t difficult when there wasn’t much to begin with. Stephen remained seated, his expression concentrated, and was able to appreciate the view for several minutes.
But then the sound of the door opening echoed off the panels of the room, letting Stephen know the show was over and it was time to get back to work. If it wasn’t one of the helpers returning from break, then it was somebody who came for a swim, and he didn’t want to be seen ogling.