The Way to a Man's Stomach

BY : Omnicat
Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Thor
Dragon prints: 1286
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel's Thor, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

The Way to a Man's Stomach


Sigyn watched with bated breath as the dwarven chef chewed. He exchanged glances with the other chef, nodded, and turned to the rest of the class.

“This food is good!” he bellowed.

The class burst out cheering. Sigyn collapsed into a chair laughing, relief making her knees weak, only to be hauled back to her feet for a round of exuberant back-patting with her fellow Vanir and Aesir, hand-shaking with the elves, bruising hip-knocking with the trolls, and, in true dwarven fasion, crowd surfing. She couldn’t be happier.

It had taken her years and years, but finally she had mastered every major culinary tradition in the habitable realms. On Jotunheim it had been tricky finding willing teachers and avoiding the unwilling ones, on Earth she had doubted and dawdled because the mortals seemed to change their taste in food like others changed underwear, and on Nidavellir she had faced the dwarves’ endless competitive drive and perfectionism.

But it was all worth it, Sigyn thought as all around her, her classmates dug into the lavish feast she had prepared as the final test for her dwarven cooking course. For so many reasons.

Asgard, where people’s attitude towards cooking could be summed up as ‘the bigger the beast, the better the meat’, wouldn’t know what hit it. And one particular Asgardian least of all.


With high spirits, Sigyn rode the Bifrost back home and set out for the palace, pastry box full of dwarven rock cakes in hand. The guards didn’t return her greetings as cheerfully as usual, but she hardly noticed, too caught up in anticipatory daydreams of her reunion with Loki. When she reached the hallway leading up to his chambers, she paused for a moment to inspect her reflection in a shiny golden wall and tuck a strand of long hair behind her ear. She’d put on some weight since going on her culinary quest. She quite adored her new bust size and pronounced curves. Hopefully Loki would feel the same way.

With one last deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked on his door.

After several long moments, she knocked again.

And again.

Then she tried the handle, found the door open, and stuck her head inside. It was pitch-dark.

“Loki?” she called – and promptly sneezed. “What the...”

Stepping inside, Sigyn snapped her fingers. Fire sprung up on command in braziers hung on the walls and the fire pit in the center of the room. She set her box down, crossed the room, sneezed some more, and opened the protective shutters across the windows with a touch. As the fading daylight joined the flickering glow of the fire, Sigyn was able to discern the thick layer of dust that covered every horizontal surface.

Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Forgetting all about her pastry box, Sigyn fled the room.


“What do you mean he’s gone?” she asked, looking between the king and the queen with wide eyes.

Frigga promptly burst out in tears. Odin made to comfort her, but she slapped his hand away and flung herself into Sigyn’s arms instead.

“He’s not dead, is he?” Sigyn asked, panic tinging her voice.

“No, no, no,” Frigga sobbed into her hair. “But he hides from us, refuses to come home or even speak to us. Every time Thor tries to talk to him, they end up fighting.”

“But why? What happened?”

Out came the whole sordid tale. How Loki had sabotaged Thor’s coronation and Thor had thrown a temper tantrum of such magnitude it provoked Laufey into declaring war. How Thor was demoted to mortal and kicked out of Asgard until he learned his lesson, and Loki discovered he had been adopted and was actually a frost giant. How Odin falling into the most ill-timed Sleep in recorded history was only the cherry on the cake of his failures that day and Frigga had, in a sentimental fit of stupidity, thought to cheer Loki up by letting the greatest rival to Thor’s claim to the throne be king for the duration.

At this point, Odin and Frigga got sidetracked into shouting at each other. Sigyn quietly excused herself and dragged the rest of the story from a shame-faced Sif.

Loki had taken the opportunity to cook up his most hair-brained scheme to date and ended up breaking the Bifrost and tumbling into a wormhole. The Bifrost had been fixed with the help of a pretty mortal Thor had met during his time-out on Earth. Both Thor and Loki were on Earth now, Thor as a member of a group of heroic warriors known as the Avengers, Loki sulking by himself and regularly taking out his frustrations on said group of heroic warriors.

It wasn’t very hard to get straightforward and honourable Sif to admit that her and the Warriors Three’s immediate assumption of treachery had contributed to Loki’s current ire. It was even easier to guilt-trip her into taking Sigyn to Earth and introduce her to Thor’s new questing buddies.


Convincing anyone to put her in touch with Loki was a different matter.

Su-per-vil-lain. I don’t know how to make it any more straightforward, babe,” said the beliggerent one who called himself the Man of Iron.

“I know how you must feel,” the woman dubbed Black Widow told her softly. “But sometimes a man worms his way into your heart and you only find out afterward that he’s not the person you thought he was. Those things happen.”

“I’m really sorry, ma’am, but it’s just too dangerous. We can’t expose a civilian to that kind of risk,” said the Captain of America.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Sigyn said. “but as an Asgardian, I am by default many times more durable than most any Midgardian civilian. And a woman I may be, but no woman of Asgard is a helpless flower unable to defend herself. On top of that, I daresay I know Loki better than any of you. I think you’re all overreacting a bit.”

All heads turned in Thor’s direction at that.

Thor looked like a kicked puppy. “That’s what I keep telling them. My brother is a trickster by nature, he despises the demands and responsibilities of ruling. But this time I agree that it would be best if you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way, Sigyn. He has not been in the best of moods lately.”

In a last ditch attempt, Sigyn turned imploringly to Sif, who shrugged and looked apologetic. “I was wrong the last time, but this time there’s really no mistaking the danger.”

Furious, Sigyn stomped off to her designated room to sulk. That’s where Thor’s pretty and clever mortal paramour eventually found her.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you so anxious to see him?” Jane asked.

Sighing, Sigyn uncurled from the angry fetal position she had assumed on the bed. “I wasn’t there when things went down in Asgard. In the period leading up to Thor’s coronation, Loki’s spirits were so low I just couldn’t bear it. So I promised him I’d go on a quest to find something that would cheer him up again. I traversed the realms for some time, wondering what I could possibly get a prince who already has everything. Then it occurred to me: as adolescents, we first bonded over being tired of the usual Asgardian cuisine. So I set out to learn to cook the way they do in the other realms. It took me a little longer than expected. And now it seems I won’t get to keep my promise at all.”

“And you think he won’t attack you like he does everyone else?”

“I was thinking I could bring him a traditional dish from Jotunheim as a sign of goodwill.”

Jane grimaced. “You might wanna reconsider that tactic.”


Jane was sympathetic to Sigyn’s plight and made another appeal to Thor, but to no avail. Sigyn, meanwhile, did everything she could think of to find Loki herself. The mortals had such marvellous things as phone books and the internet, which had served her splendidly during her previous stay on Earth. Unfortunately, the phone book yielded no results and the internet only provided her with accounts of Loki’s previous brotherly spats and pranks. Which were intriguing and time-consuming, and in case of the latter an endless source of amusement, but didn’t bring her any closer to uncovering his current location.

Thor and the Avengers shot down Sigyn’s attempt at getting on national television to draw Loki’s attention to herself. The Son of Coul, whose position seemed a strange mixture of attendant and commander, likewise foiled her attempts at following the warriors when they went out to do battle with Loki. His powers of distraction were mysterious and impressive.

It was all very frustrating. So Sigyn cooked and baked every remotely edible thing in the mansion and watched with dark satisfaction as the warriors stuffed themselves with the most delicious food they had ever tasted and looked guiltier every time they denied her what she wanted.


In the end, they ran into each other completely by accident. In the supermarket.

The personal care products aisle, to be exact. Sigyn was pushing a cart laden with foodstuffs, which she promptly crashed into a magazine stand when she walked into an unexpected low-power notice-me-not spell that twang-ed across her mind like the snap of a rubber band. Her first thought was of a traveller meaning to avoid detection by predators, because the magic was far too weak to be effective against an Asgardian. Then she looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Loki.

Whereas she had gained weight since they’d last seen each other, he had lost it. He had always been slender, but now he was gaunt, his face lined and his eyes sunken. He was dressed impeccably, though, and his hair looked nicer than ever.

Only the sudden, overwhelming urge to stare and drink in the sight of him kept Sigyn from shouting his name for the entire store to hear. Instead she abandoned her cart and rushed toward him, whispering “Loki, Loki, Loki!” over and over again.

Loki had no such compunctions. “Sigyn!” he exclaimed, and the shampoo in his hand went flying.

Before his stunned expression could resolve itself into the hostility Sigyn had been warned ad nauseum to expect, she launched herself at him.

His arms closed around her immediately. “Sigyn!” Loki laughed, lifting her up and spinning her around. When her feet hit the ground again, he drank in her face with the same wonder she had felt. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you! I returned from my quest and found you’d run off to Midgard!”

“Your quest?” He looked like he’d forgotten all about that. “So you’ve succeeded?”

“Yes. And right on time too, it looks like. You look awful.”

“Thank you,” he said with a wry smile. His eyes flitted furtively up and down her body. “You look good, though.”

Sigyn beamed. “Thank you. Now tell me, where are your quarters here on Earth? We have so much to catch up on!”

Loki rubbed his chin. “It’s actually supposed to be a secret lair...”

“Oh, come on, for me?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

Loki could never resist Sigyn’s eyelashes.


“Not bad,” Sigyn said when they’d finished their little tour of the roomy, sunlit apartment. Nowhere near as grand and majestic as his royal quarters in Asgard, but that was a given. To Midgardian standards, it came pretty close. “Nice view, too.”

“You really think so? The mortals have no sense of aesthetics.”

“Well,” Sigyn said with a coy smile. “It wouldn’t do to speak ill of the supervillain’s evil lair in front of him, now would it? He could turn me into a frog!”

“And he would regret it instantly and turn you right back to your lovely maiden self,” Loki shot back with a hand pressed to his heart.

It was just like old times. Like nothing had changed. But of course it had.

“So,” Loki went on. “Are you going to eat all that food by yourself?” He nodded toward the pile of bulging shopping bags that they’d teleported along with them.

“Oh, no, I’m staying with the Avengers and they’ve kindly allowed me to take care of their meals.”

Loki’s face fell.

“You were in hiding, Loki,” Sigyn said patiently. “I had to sleep somewhere. And your brother and his friends knew more about your comings and goings than anyone else.”

Something possessive came into his eyes that made butterflies erupt in her stomach. “You can stay here, with me, now.”

“I’d love to,” she blurted out immediately. Then it was her turn for her face to fall. “But the others will be worried if I don’t come back.”

“Who cares.”

Sigyn made a face.

“Okay, then give them a call, tell them you’ve found me and you’re not coming back. Even better. I only wish I could see their faces.”

“Then they’ll think you’re holding me hostage and need rescueing. Those mortal friends of Thor’s have no sense of humor.”

He grinned like a fiend. “My point exactly.”

Sigyn had to bite back a grin of her own. Obviously it didn’t work very well, because Loki quickly turned the persuasion up a notch by taking her hands in his and squeezing them gently.


It was tempting. So very tempting. Just her and Loki, playing rogue in a bustling realm full of new things to explore... no-one to chaperone them...

But should she be condoning this villainous lifestyle of his?

Then again, some ‘villainy’ he was committing. Creating forcefields that transformed the clouds that entered their airspace into jellyfish, turning the city’s vegitation into tickle monsters... and didn’t all siblings fight once in a while?

“Alright then,” Sigyn said.

With a brilliant smile, Loki went in for a kiss.

Shock froze Sigyn in place.

Loki withdrew. “I’m sorry, I...”

A heartbeat later, joy exploded in every fibre of her being. She launched herself at him and kissed back.


After that, it didn’t take long for them to tumble into his big, opulent bed.

Ooh, it was good to be back.


A few hours later, Sigyn was puttering around in the kitchen wearing nothing but her panties and one of his unbuttoned shirts, revelling in the way it had Loki following her everywhere with his eyes. There was plenty of room to store the groceries; his cupboards were all empty and there was only some leftover takeout in the fridge.

“Don’t tell me this is all you’ve been living on down here,” Sigyn said, holding up a plate of cold pizza slices with her nose crinkling in disgust. “This stuff is worse than roast griffin!”

Loki fished an apple from a grocery bag and bit into it greedily before answering. “As little as possible. But I don’t have much choice. I can’t go to any restaurants or stores without being arrested or using concealment magic. Which, because of the mortals’ obsession with keeping their purses hermetically sealed, means stealing it. And have you ever tried eating in a restaurant invisibly? While you’re busy keeping people away from a seemingly unoccupied table, your dinner goes cold.”

Sigyn gave first Loki a look, and then the ceiling. “Are those scorch marks?”

“Also, I still can’t cook worth a damn,” he added cheerfully.

“You’re hopeless,” Sigyn said fondly. “On the bright side, this means my quest has not been in vain.”

“That’s right, you have something for me.” Grinning, he threw his apple core into the trash, wrapped his arms around her waist, and bumped his nose to hers. “What is it?”

“I learned how to cook proper food.”

Loki blinked.

“Trust me, you’re going to love it. It’ll open up a whole new world for you. I’ll spoil you rotten.”

But not before she pressed herself to his bare chest and had her wicked way with him again.

“Okay, I’ll trust you. Whetting the appetite first, huh?” he said, sliding his hands into her open shirt.


Wrapping her arms around his neck, she reached up on her tiptoes for a kiss, which he met eagerly. His hands ran up and down her sides until they broke apart and he lifted her up onto the island counter.

“By the roots and branches, Sigyn, how did you get so beautiful?” he whispered.

“I discovered the joys of good food.” She paused to moan as he cupped her breasts. “Oh, Loki, you have no idea. There are so many things I want to cook for you.”

He laughed. “I’m so starved for something, anything!, edible that hearing you talk like that is a turn-on.”

Then he took one sensitive nipple into his mouth and eased her down on her back amidst the unpacked groceries, and nothing more was said for a while.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he eventually murmured, in between trailing kisses down her stomach. “but I love your new figure. Please don’t ever lose weight again.”

Giggling, Sigyn threaded her fingers through his hair. “I was hoping you’d say that.”


The next few months were like a honeymoon. As predicted, the Avengers took Sigyn’s phonecall badly, and their unannounced and unnoticed visit to collect Sigyn’s things, worse. (Not helped, of course, by the overactive furry creatures they left behind in exchange.) There was no helping that, though, so she put it out of her mind and just enjoyed herself.

They took each other’s clothes off at the slightest provocation (their parents would be scandalized) and spent entire mornings lazing about watching cartoons. They went sightseeing all across the globe and played tricks on the poor, bored Earthlings. And they ate, often and well. Loki regained a healthy demeanor in no time.

Before setting out on her quest, it had never fully dawned on Sigyn just how limited Asgard’s range of foods and drink was. Now it was glaringly obvious, because for all its military, political, and magical might, the realm of Asgard was no bigger than a city state. The realm knew no winter and the soil, forest and rivers never depleted, making food shortages a non-issue. But there were only so many possible variations when you could count the number of vegetables on your fingers, and the fruits and nuts on another, and the fowl, and the fish, and both the game and lifestock combined... And most of the fearsome beasts slayed and dragged back from other realms weren’t, strictly speaking, edible. Keeping their meat down was something of a rite of passage for the foolhardy and testosterone-soaked. After century upon century of the same thing, was it any wonder the joy of eating had dimmed?

It was hard to exaggerate what a revelation her journey had been.

Sigyn introduced Loki to Midgardian quisine one novelty at a time. Salt, for starters. Salt-water fish. Salt snacks and sweet ones flavoured with anything but honey. Chocolate and anything with chocolate in it. Ice cream. (One day, they went on a tour along the city’s candy and pastry shops and bought a sample of every single thing they had.) Lychee nuts (half the fun was using them to find each other’s most sensitive spots first) and bananas (Sigyn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Loki decided to eat it even after...) and tropical fruits of all kinds. Tea in all its endless incarnations. Coffee. Rice and corn and rye. More vegetables than they could shake a stick at.

Smoothies, an instant hit with the both of them once Sigyn caught up on what she’d missed since she moved on to the next realm. Sandwiches with delicious combinations of fillings and spreads. Sauces with flavours so intense Loki’s hand flew to his mouth in shock. Cotton candy and giant lollypops from the Coney Island fair. Tofu and other vegetarian meat substitutes.

Sigyn had Loki try all kinds of meats and fowl and fish the Midgardian way, but before long they realised that meat just wasn’t his thing. In Asgard, where meat was the main ingredient in everything, such a revelation would never have been possible.

“I’m not even surprised, you know,” Sigyn said absentmindedly as she admired the figure he struck with his sleeves rolled up and his arms covered up to the elbow in dishwater suds. “They don’t eat meat on Jotunheim. The very concept is as alien to them as eating sawdust is to us.”

Loki stilled. “You know about that?” he asked, in a small, vulnerable voice she rarely ever heard from him.

For a moment, Sigyn stared at his suddenly tense back in confusion. Then it clicked, and everything inside of her seemed to turn hot and liquid, and she leaped from her chair to wrap her arms around him from behind.

“Of course I did,” she whispered fiercely. “And it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. The friends I made on Jotunheim are some of the best I’ve ever had.”

She didn’t care that he got soapy water all over her when he spun around and drew her in for a hard, fierce kiss.


One day, they went out to militarize the city pidgeons and instead got into a fight with the Avengers that ended with Sigyn being ‘kidnapped back’ by the ‘good guys’. They’d expected them to succeed sooner, to be honest.

“Oh, it was simply awful,” Sigyn told the Son of Coul gleefully. “He locked me up in his evil lair with nothing to do because he keeps the place clean with magic, placated me with expensive gifts, dragged me out to see movies and crash parties in disguise, and he ravished me all the time. Valhalla, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted him to do that. ...what, I thought it was okay to talk about that kind of thing here?”

Phil, Son of Coul pinched the bridge of his nose. “Miss Sigyn, are you aware that by telling me this you’re implicating yourself as an accomplice in Loki’s crimes?”

“Crimes? You mean there’s a law against Bertie Bott-ifying junk food via temporary magical illusions? How ingenious your lawmakers are, to be prepared for even such freak incidents!”

Thor, at least, was glad to hear his brother was doing well. Sigyn spent her first night back with him and Jane, leafing through the photo album she always carried around in a little pocket of sub-space Loki had made for her. It was unanimously agreed that his new diet was doing wonders for him, and they had a good laugh comparing recent Disneyland and Madame Tussaud’s pictures with news clippings from that time he let his hair grow out and dressed like an Asgardian pirate.

Three days later, Loki re-kidnapped Sigyn by breaking through the walls of the mansion on a flying motorcycle. Sigyn waved at the tiny, frantic figures that appeared on top of the rubble as they flew away. “Bye! It was nice seeing you again!”


Kidnapping Sigyn back and forth became something of a game. She made sure to always carry her toiletries and a change of clothes in her sub-space pocket.

The Avengers wanted her to talk to a psychologist, who tried to explain to her what Stockholm Syndrome was. Sigyn, in turn, tried to explain to the little mortal what a fivehundred-year friendship and mind-blowing sex were.

“Guys, seriously, does she look like an unwilling hostage to you?” Jane burst out one morning. Everyone immediately stopped stuffing their faces with home-made croissants. “And hasn’t it occurred to any of you that since Sigyn found him, nothing Loki’s done has been destructive in nature? Splash-happy enchanted fountains, making museum exhibits scream – those are just practical jokes!”

“And,” Thor added eagerly. “no setbacks. He hasn’t resorted to violence even when we took Sigyn from him.”

“Tell that to my repair bills,” the Man of Iron muttered.

“To be fair, you holding me here isn’t much of an obstacle,” Sigyn said, buttering a piece of toast. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“See! He’ll be back to blowing up buildings the moment she gets sick of his obnoxious ass.”

“That is not what I said!” Sigyn cried indignantly.

The Captain of America rubbed his eyes. “She’s right, you guys. This is an excersize in futility. Miss Sigyn doesn’t want to be here, it doesn’t affect Loki’s behaviour any when she is here, and we can’t manage to keep her. All this game is getting us is a few good meals every other week, and sooner or later SHIELD is gonna cotton on to that fact and pull the plug on our fun.”

“But what if...” the Black Widow mused. “What if we found a way to keep Loki from getting her back. We could use her as a bargaining chip. Force him to turn himself in. Or,” she added quickly, seeing Thor’s thunderous expression. “get him to join our side.”

Sigyn looked appalled. “Widow! I thought you were my friend!”

“Don’t you want his criminal record to be cleared? To be able to go out whenever and wherever you please without having to hide your identities? Don’t you want him to make up with his family? Don’t you want to go home?”

“I’m quite content here, thankyouverymuch.” Sigyn crossed her arms mulishly.

“This is an underhanded and devious plan,” Thor said slowly. “I don’t like it. But it might be just what we need.”


And so it was decided that Sigyn would be brought back to Asgard as a hostage, where even Loki would have trouble busting her out, and he would only get her back if he agreed to sit down to talk things out with his family and joined the Avengers for as long as they deemed necessary to repay the people of Earth for the damage he had done.

Once there, Sigyn promply went on a hunger strike. When she explained to Frigga why, and how Loki too had developed an entirely different culinary taste in the past year, the queen personally went down to Earth to set up a trade agreement.

She returned with one son on each arm.

(And Jane lagging ever further behind, because she couldn’t tear her eyes away from anything.)


All Loki’s bones seemed to liquify as he sank into the matrass, his face – though still bruised and scuffed from making up with Thor – a picture of extacy. His voice was hoarse from a lengthy session of expressing his feelings more loudly than his father could express his. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I fucking missed my bed.”

Smiling, Sigyn said down the covered tray she’d brought in. “Remember to take it with us when we leave for Earth again.”

He peeked over at the tray through one eye. “Is that dinner? Please say it’s dinner. After the day I’ve had, I’m starving.”

“It’s dinner.”

“Yesssss. Gimme gimme gimme.”

Loki sat up against the curved golden headboard and scooted over to make room for her, and Sigyn uncovered two steaming plates of vegetables with spicy sauce, rice dumplings, soy burger for Loki and grilled fish for Sigyn. They ate in a pleasant silence, snuggling into each other’s side, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

For dessert, she presented first a pair of golden apples. “A welcome home present.”

He took his with a solemn expression.

“You are happy to be home, aren’t you?” she asked, just to be sure.

“No, I just didn’t feel like staging an elaborate intergalactic rescue.”

They stuck their tongues out at each other.

“Yes, I am,” he murmured, eyes cast down in a tell-tale sign of open emotion. Then he bit into the apple and smiled adoringly. “I missed this too.”

Then she set the now almost empty tray on the bed between them and gave him a secretive smile.

“I found something in the kitchens that you might like. While you were on Earth, diplomatic relations between Asgard and Jotunheim have improved significantly. After the... incident with the Bifrost, Odin and Nál, the new queen of the frost giants, decided that it was high time to bury the hatchet and stop walking around like we might incinerate or deep-freeze each other at the slightest provocation. So there have been at least a dozen diplomatic and friendly visits to and fro, and Asgard has broken its age-old policy of total independence and started trading some of our limitless resources for exclusively Jotun-grown products. Which include, among other things...”

She lifted the last lid.

“...the best ice cream in the universe.”

In a golden bowl sat a large, snow-white swirl surrounded by smaller tufts in every colour of the pastel rainbow. The magic of the lid had kept it cold until now, and moisture beaded the inside. Ice cream didn’t usually have much of a scent, but the Jotun-made variant did. Sigyn saw Loki take a deep breath that became deeper, deeper, deeper. It smelled like fresh fruit, flowers growing on mountaintops, crisp winter air, and things Asgard had no words for.

Loki hadn’t even tasted the ice cream yet, but already he shot her last-minute addition of Midgardian whipped cream and sprinkles and little tankards of chocolate sauce and strawberry syrup a look implying their utter inferiority, as if their mere presence was an insult to the perfection of the ice cream.

That was okay. There were other uses for them.

Loki savoured the ice cream like he’d never tasted anything so delicious. Sigyn didn’t even touch her spoon; she just enjoyed watching his face as he ate, the little noises he made each time he tried a new flavour.

Wow, she thought more than once. I had no idea he could make that face outside of orgasm.

“If all Jotun food is this good, I think I’m going to murder father for bringing me up in deprivation,” he said when he’d emptied the bowl and licked it clean. He fell back against the pillows with a sigh of utter contentment. “That was divine.”

Sigyn couldn’t take it anymore. “No, you’re divine,” she groaned, and launched herself at him.

She could taste the freshness of the ice as her tongue delved into his mouth. She pushed his coat from his shoulders, undid the leather braces on his arms. The knives he kept strapped to his forearms went clattering to the floor.

“I hope you’re not too full for a little excersize?”


He rolled them over, moved his mouth to the pulse point in her neck. A sound almost like a purr rose from Loki’s chest as Sigyn fisted her hands in his hair and began tugging and kneading his scalp.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“I like everything about you,” Loki rasped, eyes lidded and smile lazy. “Do you like me?”

She smiled back. “Yes. Very much.”

Sigyn watched contentedly as he removed the remaining layers of his clothing. Her own gown was a simple yet elegant one-piece that she tugged over her head with no regard for her hair. It was going to get much more disheveled yet.

When her head was halfway through the tunnel of fabric, something cold touched her shin, and she jumped. “Loki?”

“Don’t worry,” was all he said.

The same happened to her other leg.

Sigyn fought her way out of her dress, right in time for Loki to pour a line of chocolate sauce up her thigh. She laughed. “You’ve read my mind.”

“Lie down.”

Another line of chocolate on the opposit thigh, and he switched to the whipped cream, applying it liberally to both breasts. He poured strawberry sauce into her belly button. Strew sprinkles all over. Then he knelt beside her, took hold of her calf, kissed the bridge of her foot, and made his way upwards.

There was already chocolate sauce running down onto the sheets and the sprinkles really were getting everywhere, but they paid it no heed. Magic was beautiful that way.

It tickled. It took ages to lap up and suck off every last bit of chocolate. It was wonderful. Every inch of skin was another eternity of sweet torture. Or so Sigyn thought before she caved and found her clit, bringing herself to a swift relief.

Only for the cycle to start all over again.

When finally, finally her legs were clean, she pulled him on top of her. “Please, no more, just get inside me.”

She was wet and ready, and he eased into her smoothly. Loki sucked in a long, deep breath; Sigyn released it. Strawberry syrup trailed down her side as they started to rock. The friction, the fullness, quickly brought Sigyn to another orgasm and a drawn-out cry, but she urged Loki to keep going, to push her even further. Riding the waves of pleasure until the intensity became almost painful, she arched up, leaving smears of whipped cream on Loki’s chest. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t keep her eyes open. She could only gasp for breath, desperate sounds coming from her throat, and keep a death grip on Loki’s shoulders. And still he moved on top of her, his thrusts coming quicker, deeper, harder.

Then finally, a final explosion of extasy as Loki’s thumb found her clit, his whole body shuddering, and she couldn’t distinguish his scream from her own.

Slowly they caught their breaths.

“Everything is sticky,” Sigyn whispered after a while, with a half-suppressed giggle. “Everything.

Loki rolled off of her with a grunt and looked down at his no-longer-very-whipped cream covered chest. “Hm.” He gave her one of those looks from beneath his eyelashes that made her insides tingle. “I noticed you haven’t had any dessert yet.”

“Well, if you’re offering.” Grinning, she scooped the remaining cream from her chest and stomach in thick, wet globs and plopped them down on his. “Be a good plate and lie still.”

Half of the whipped cream ended up in her hair, but it was worth it to watch him squirm as it tickled his skin. He was hard again within no time. Figuring she owed him another release after having so many of her own, she poured a hand full of chocolate and wrapped it around the length of him.

That drew a satisfied – and satisfying – moan from him. Using her thumb, she coated him from base to tip before starting to pump. And then, when the chocolate began to congeal and crust from the friction, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked. Her tongue swirled around the head, dipped into the slit. The salty taste of precome and even a lingering hint of her own, oister-like fluids mingled with the chocolate. She stopped short of cleaning the top in one go. Instead, she tilted her head and started licking up and down the shaft. Took hold of his balls and sucked and lapped at the sauce that had trickled across and between them.

When he warned, hoarsely, “Sigyn, I’m not going to last much longer,” she took him into her mouth again and sucked until his seed spilled across her tongue.

She swallowed every drop. It seemed only a fitting end.

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