st_ratagem | Tension release valve

Tension release valve

The branch, oddly lumpy as a branch, with its bark stripped off and some shaping was definitely interesting. At some point in the tree’s life, honeysuckle had grown on it and choked the branches, and even though the flowers had clearly not been part of the tree for a long time, the twisting looked very much like a snake wrapped around the top.

Loki hadn’t budged from his room in days, wrapped up as he was in crafting something that wasn’t gong to be particularly useful as a walking stick or a weapon. At some point he’d propped his door open just so he didn’t have to split focus between what he wanted to do and dealing with knocking. Mostly the only people who came by were people he didn’t mind, anyway.

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A lifetime of practice at illusions and other mental magics meant that When Loki was fully paying attention, he sensed things. In this case, that Valkyrie had gone far away in her head and the nip to her jaw had snapped her back.

He moved lower to kiss and nip at her collarbone, tasting her and enjoying the slide of skin on skin.

Loki was skilled with his lips and his tongue and his teeth and Valkyrie couldn't find it in her to be surprised. He had a silver tongue when he wasn't being deliberately obnoxious. On one drunken occasion when he had chosen to be annoying over nothing that mattered whatsoever, she remembered thinking his face would be best used as a seat. She may have even said it aloud--not that this Loki could tell her.

Though she was less inclined to get angry at him for flapping his gums in the past month, she had no objections to putting his mouth for this. When that hand on her bare back moved, so did her hand buried in his hair, tightening it rhythmically, just to encourage the sound of his voice.

Loki loved hands in his hair, and the rhythmic pulled did in fact result in a series of pleased noises, nonverbal (not quite groans) and muffled because his mouth was otherwise occupied. His hand on her back pushed her up a little more to let him shift attention from collarbone and shoulder to her breasts: lips, tongue, teeth, and free hand.

Valkyrie had to give Loki credit--most men managed to either be too tentative or think they'd impress her by treating her body like a slab of ham. Hands and teeth everywhere, reading and responding to nothing. There was the right amount of finesse, the right amount of rough, and she couldn't help but imagine what they'd feel like elsewhere.

Not one to remain passive, she brought her knee down onto his crotch and parted his legs.

The contact was delicious, and Loki bit harder for an instant in reaction. Then, just to see what Valkyrie would do, he used what leverage he had to try and roll then to put her on her back.Two pins in one day?

While Valkyrie let it happen, she regarded the man above her with a curious look, one that asked Oh, THAT'S what you like? She took it less of a challenge and more of an affirmation that, yes, Loki was the red blooded individual she liked to imagine he was.

Before he could get too far into his own designs, she hooked her nails into his back and yanked him down flush, responding in kind by moving her body in a wave-like arch that pushed them up for that skin-on-skin friction. "If I didn't know you were Jotun, I'd have asked if you were well." He wasn't deathly cold, but he was cooler to the touch. It was far from unpleasant.

Loki chuckled against her skin. “I’ve been asked that before.” It didn’t bother Valkyrie, clearly; if it did, there would be space between their bodies. “The first time, I didn’t know, so I thought I wasn’t.” He kissed her hard, then, rather than go down into that particular pit of memory; the tale had been popular proof of his cold nature for months, if not years.

Valkyrie idly wondered if Loki could see her thoughts from lip-to-lip contact, surmising he could do a great many things if he was so inclined. She'd known and courted magic users in her time, including those who wielded Asgardian magic.

'Still time to find out about that seat remark...' She smiled against his mouth, one of her hands finding the tightness in his pants.

“I can feel you thinking.” Actually reading thoughts took conscious effort and was rarely pleasurable for the person being read, but Loki did keep track of surface feelings and impressions. Yes, do that and This does nothing for me were excellent guides for someone who could never rely on affection to cover a shortfall in skill. He could feel the presence of Valkyrie’s thought and the curiosity/anticipation around it, but nothing more precise.

It didn’t help that she was making thought and concentration difficult. Loki’s hips ground down a little, pushing into her hand. They were both wearing too much clothing, but getting those leggings off Valkyrie meant backing away from her for a moment. “I’m game, whatever it is.”

She quirked a brow, sliding her hands back up to his firm shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. "It involves letting me on top." If he was offering, Valkyrie wasn't about to turn him down. And without waiting for another polite acknowledgement, she took her turn and shoved him onto his back, straddling his hips.

"I'll make it good for you." A little smirk, and she was angling herself back to roll the stretching, black fabric down her thighs.

“I believe you.” If nothing else, watching her rid herself of the last of her clothing was good. Valkyrie was a beautiful woman, and he currrently had permission, not just an excuse, to watch and appreciate.

Lowering herself back down to straddle him once the garments had been carelessly tossed where the wind took them, Valkyrie hinged at the waist and reclaimed his mouth. She bit his lips softly and indulged in the taste of his tongue. His mouth tasted clean--probably a product of him mostly eating for utility, whenever she saw him bother to do it. Lazing around in his quarters as often as she did, she got a feel for many of his little quirks.

"Would you hold it against me if I said I've been waiting to do this?" She murmured into his mouth, dragging herself up against him to replace her lips on his with her sensitive nethers.

“No, since you’re about to hold it against me,” he murmured back as soon as her aim became clear and half a second before his mouth had better things to do. More tongue, virtually no teeth, long licks, strokes and light sucks at her clit... and there was something thrilling, as always, in being at the mercy of someone who didn’t intend any harm.

He enjoyed giving oral, being being good at it (he was fairly sure) and enjoying the reactions and pleasure of his partner, so the only downside of this position was that he couldn’t also have Valkyrie’s hands in his hair while he ate her out. (Another time, maybe.)

Though her hands gripped and scraped the golden rails of the headboard to bear some weight, she was perched atop her partner authoritatively, grinding and moving wherever felt the best. The best part was that she didn't need to direct Loki that much--chalk it up to his passive mind reading abilities or his exquisite attentiveness (a power he was now using for good instead of evil). His ministrations drew forth a soft yelp and a tightening of her thighs about his head as his tongue drew insistent little circles, gripping the metal hard enough to warp it as she bucked and whispered filthy encouragements all the way.

"I rather like you like this." Valkyrie gasped as she tilted her head down to catch a glimpse of him, hair draping over her upper arms.

“Mmmm.” It was a nonverbal hum; Loki wasn’t inclined to use mouth or tongue for talking when he could keep coaxing those jerks and whispers out of her. In fact, even the hum was uttered in a way that the vibration of sound would complement, not interfere.

His hands, though, smoothed up her thighs to her hips, to agree that he rather liked her like this: breathless and shaking because of him.

As Valkyrie’s hips dug in more urgently and his finger snaked encouragingly up her body, she was struck with the sense of wanting—of needing —more. Chalk it up to the dry spell or the idle thoughts that had been dancing across her mind for the last month, but her body was demanding satisfaction.

“Pants off.” She picked herself up to give him space enough to do it, ready to take a knife to the cloth if he wasn’t adequately disrobed in the next very few seconds.

Under other circumstances, Loki might have delayed just to see what that edge to her desperation meant. At that moment, though, he was more than willing to comply immediately, since the restriction of clothing had somehow become almost painful while he was otherwise focused.

With his upper body free-ish to move, getting pants off took only a few seconds of effort, even if he turned his head to press a kiss to whatever part of Valkyrie's inner thigh was still available.

'Points for flexibility, this one.' Valkyrie thought in a particularly 'loud' manner, as if that'd make a difference, smiling as she pulled down and slid his cock between her thighs. She'd managed to cling onto enough patience to draw out their play, bringing her legs back up in a slow stroke around him as she bent forward and up to tease a one of the punctures in his neck with her mouth.

“Could have done that with my pants still on,” he rasped, burying one hand in her hair and twisting lightly. The sting of Valkyrie’s mouth on one of the knife cuts was delicious, right on the edge of too much teasing with the almost-but-not-quite friction on his cock. “Get to the point or I will.”

"As if this wasn't the point." Valkyrie shot back, though it came out as a sadistic purr. Still, while that wasn't an idle remark and she always gleaned no small amount of satisfaction from getting him wound up, she'd already stretched her own patience to its breaking point. With her body screaming to satisfy an entirely different need, she sunk down with a muted and pleasurably groan as she came to sit on his hips.

Whatever the point was or wasn’t, Loki forgot it as soon as he slid inside her. He groaned as well, and his hips bucked up, trying to thrust deeper, to move, even though Valkyrie’s hips were flush with his and there was very little ‘deeper’ left.

It had been awhile since her last male partner, but Loki’s mouth had been more than enough to get her ready and his cock felt as satisfying as the rest of him as it settled in her. Valkyrie’s position atop Loki’s form was ideal as it allowed her to slide and rotate her hips to find that angle that felt the best, licking her lips and digging her fingers into his chest as she tuned into his rhythm.

Luckily, the insistent and quick pace he was starting scratched the itch just fine, and she was lifting and bucking back to match, if not much harder.

Hard and fast seemed to work, so he let one hand go back to her hips to help her move, or sneak between her legs and tease, make the good angles better. And that was important, because then he sat up enough that his free hand could grab one of her wrists and shove her hand back into his hair without losing momentum.

And, not coincidentally, the new position let him kiss her again. If she objected to tasting herself, she’d certainly let him know.

Valkyrie nearly pinned him with the force she returned the kiss, making the bed tremble when her free grip slammed onto the headboard for leverage. She twisted her fingers at the end of his locks, yanking him forward just for the satisfaction of it.

Everything about Loki was controlled. Frigid—or so he lead others to believe. Even during their first skirmish and his defeat, he hadn’t lost his composure. Seeing and feeling him in the throes of an act as raw as this...it was a great look.

Yanking him back by his pitch black locks, she taunted the wound on his neck with her teeth and drove back hard enough to earn a cry from herself.

“Fuck yes.” Good sex emptied his mind, kept him from thinking anything more coherent than that. Pain did something similar, and adding a little pain - yanking his hair, biting at a cut - to what had already been great sex ensured Loki barely realized he was actually speaking words and not just nonsense need-sounds.

He couldn’t reach Valkyrie with his mouth anymore, so he let his hands move almost in sync with their rough rhythm. He stroked (or scraped, if his nails happened to hit) every sensitive spot he’d found on her body, trying to drive her further, push her over the edge.

Tension release valve

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