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A love story, a rose, and a book of poems	By : Rosewatergoddess Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Thor Views: 920 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing at Marvel, except Loki's heart. Sadly I make no money. I don't own Thor or the characters of Thor, Odin, Frigga, Sif, ect

Chapter List
- 1-A love story, a rose, and a book of poems
- 1
A love story, a rose, and a book of poems
It is a bleak night in Asgard. The earlier peacefulness of the evening air has turned to violent thunderstorms. The once gentle breeze that had caused the window curtains to billow through the french doors of Loki's bedchamber had now become a torrent of violently, whipping white drapery and you had rushed into the swirling white cloth to shut and lock the balcony doors. Before this tempest had started you had decided to wait for Loki's meeting with Odin to end by enjoying the sunset on the balcony and taking in the scene of Asgard's gardens below you, scenting the air with the fragrance of hundreds of flowers while you read to pass your time. Now your serenity was shattered. And you felt suddenly very lonesome for Loki's presence.
Just a few hours ago you had been angry with him and on the verge of picking a fight. He had asked you to cancel your plans and spend the day here with him. Then, with a single note from Odin, a rakishly charming smile, and the promise that he would not be gone long you had spent the day wandering around his bedchamber bored out of your mind. You had thought about giving up a dozen times and just leaving but the light in his blue eyes when he asked you to wait for him was too much and the guilt of knowing how those same eyes would sadden when he discovered you had not waited would have haunted you the rest of the day. So you waited. Damn Odin. What could possibly be keeping Loki? Everyone knew Odin trusted Thor more than Loki. Odin should have called Thor into his damn intrigues.
Frowning and shriving slightly now from the dousing of cold rainwater when you had shut the french doors you decide to close the outside doors to Loki's sitting room and after stripping off your sopping wet dress you climb into the middle of Loki's large, soft bed. You settle yourself down amid the pillows and pull the thick comforter close to your body. Now all you have to do is warm up and wait for the shivering to pass.
Still, you missed Loki even more now. You missed the playful and gentle side he hid from most the court. You missed his teasing, his sarcastic wit, and at this moment you even slightly missed his dominant I-shall-let-nothing-harm-you side. Not that you would ever really admit that to him though. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. But you missed him so much now it was starting to become a physical ache. If only you could just see him or hear him speak. He had often won many arguments between the two of you by reading you poetry while you laid your head on his chest in bed, just letting the rhythm and the cadence of his words send you off to sleep. In the morning you could never really remember who had won the argument and so peace was once again restored.
You felt a few frustrated tears forming in the corner of your eyes but before you could brush them away your hand hit a small, hard, slightly oval object tucked under one of the pillows your head had been resting on. Tucking the covers about you you sit up and hold the object in your hand. It weighs very little. You use your free hand to make a casting motion and the candles light, filling the room with a cocoon of golden light.
The object is shaped like an egg and weighs just a bit more than one might. It has the look of poured honey that can only mean it is made of amber. It is not clear all the way through and there are what appear to be magnets housed in the amber casing. There are a few small indentions on the wide side of the amber. Curious now you press the largest of these and feel the amber depress slightly. And then the most wonderful sound started to play.
“Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King's daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.
Red roses are at her feet,
Roses are red in her red-gold hair
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.
Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.
Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.
What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)
There are two that ride from the south and east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King's daughter rest.
There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hathduggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)
No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.
You sat on the bed unable to stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks. Not only was the poem both beautifully written and terribly sad but its origin was from a book of poetry from Midgard that you had loaned Loki by one of your favorite Midgardian poets Oscar Wilde. That Loki cared enough to want to keep a copy on this strange device moved you more than words could say. And hearing Loki recite the words of the poem with such depth and feeling caused you to start crying even harder.
As you sob gently you do not hear the hallway doors to Loki's chambers being opened. Noticing all the lights out in the central rooms but the candle glow coming from under the door frame to his sleeping chamber Loki stealthily crosses the room, using his warrior's grace to make not a single sound. When he hears a man's voice he pauses outside the room ready to break into a fury but upon listening to the words a bit longer he shakes his head at his own folly. He quietly opens the inner bedroom doors, taking care not to make a sound. His easy stride takes him within reach of the bed and he surprises you by kissing each and every one of your tears away. “Oh, my darling. I wish that was not the poem you listened to. I much prefer this one when I think of you."
"O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!
And light for my love her way,
Lest her little feet should stray
On the windy hill and the world!
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
For my love and I would go
To the land where the daffodils blow
In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
Sing on, sing on, from your soft brown throat!
And my love in her little bed
Willlisten, and lift her head
From the pillow, and come my way!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!
Come down, come down, for my love to wear!
You will die on her head in a crown,
You will die in a fold of her gown,
To her little lightheart you will go!
O blossom that hangs in the tremulous air!
O blossom with lips of snow!”
Your eyes are still streaming tears as Loki finishes the poem. You try to laugh through your tears at how happy you are. Loki takes you into his arms and wraps you into a tight embrace. He loosens one of his hands and while you keep your eyes closed just holding him against you and breathing in the scent of his skin you feel the softness of a rose's petal against your cheek. You peek up at him and he holds one of the dusky pink roses you love so well. “I was just able to grab one from the garden before the storm hit. I am afraid it's why I am running so late, although” he says, smirking “If the results of my tardiness is that you are naked in my bed and not angry with me for my unexpected neglect I shall have to find ways to be in Odin's presence more often, tiresome though it is.”
You smile at his jest but you have spirit and have good incentive to keep him guessing at his true state of forgiveness. “But my lord, there are many reasons I might have cause to be in your bed unclothed. Was not your brother, Thor missing from your session with Odin? It could be that I kept him otherwise entertained.” A dark look crosses Loki face but he quickly loses it. “Ah, then my darling I wish you much joy of him. I saw him leave the castle hours ago so whatever joy he supplied you with could not have been much to your satisfaction.” And on seeing your lips pout at your teasing gone awry he closes the distance between your bodies. “Perhaps, I might offer myself as a more suitable lover?” Using the petals of the rose to trace your breast where the covers have slipped slightly. “With no other options my lord I believe you will have to do.” You say as you begin to return his ardent kisses.
“Odin's summons has cost us enough of our time for today. Let us waste not a moment longer. I have been neglectful of you for much too long this day.” Loki kissed you with a passion that he rarely showed and you moan into his kisses, your hips undulating, trying to find purchase against him. His lips brush against your lips and then his tongue cautiously taste your lips. Your own lips eagerly part for his and they move in anticipation of his silent request. He explores your neck, your lips, your mouth, all very slowly as if he is memorizing your taste. His kiss deepens and you feel yourself being pushed more firmly into the bed underneath you. You writhe and moan beneath him until you can feel the full length of him pressed up against you. Your hand fist into his hair causing a little whimper to escapee from his mouth.
“Oh, my darling. If Odin only knew this was where my mine was all day long.” Loki whispers huskily against the skin of your throat. He begins to moan deeply and you can feel the rumble of it on your own skin. It was a sound you loved to hear and although he had no idea just hearing it could cause you to come undone. You wanted to do whatever it took that caused him to make that sound again and again. You begin to roll your hips slowly again, keeping a steady rhythm and are rewarded by another one of those guttural moans. His hand still holds the rose and he moves the covers to run the soft petals between your breast, tease your nipples until they are hardened peaks and everywhere the rose petals touch his mouth soon follows. He slowly draws circles on your belly with the petals and then redraws them with his tongue. By this time you are unable to do anything but whimper as you squeeze your legs tightly together and make little rocking motions. He finally places the rose to rest on the cleft between your thighs.
He begins to move back up your body. His hands cup your breasts, his long, dextrous fingers teasing your nipples, while he kisses your neck and throat. You let out another whimper as your body begins to twitch in anticipation. You reach for the fastenings of his clothing and he raises his head to better assist you in disrobing him. As much as you want to hurry to get him naked and fully seated inside you you will not allow yourself to rush. You slowly undo each and every button on his leather shirt and coat. When they finally loosen he shrugs out of them with a growl. Once naked he presses his chest to yours. His fingers return to your breasts and he pushes them together. But he takes each nipple into his mouth one by one as if they are delicacies he wishes to savor on his tongue for as long as he can. You have moved pat undone and are about to start begging him. He cannot help but noticed that your moans are becoming ever more intense.
“Are you finally ready for me. my darling?” Loki asks in that deep, husky voice all men in the throes of passion acquire.“Yes! Please” You whimper. Loki holds back for just a moment as if letting you feel all he is offering you and all he could take away if he so chose. “Good.” Loki says as his blue eyes stare straight into your soul. He presses his full weight against you and positions himself so that his arousal is pressing against your thigh, the head just brushing the petals of the rose. He uses his hands to keep you from spreading yourself for him. “The petals…they are so soft. Not nearly as soft as your skin but still, they intrigue me.” He says. You gasp. Shuddering a little as you realize what he’s purposing. “My Prince, would it please you to leave the rose there so that as you enter me it shall brush you too?” You ask, timidly. Your lovemaking has always been as equals but this new game of Loki's seems to have flipped the tables a bit. He smiles at you. “Oh, my dearest, my own little rose, how very well you are beginning to know me.” Your breathing begins to quicken as Loki moves the hand that had held your legs together and he now allows you to spread them so he might settle himself between them.
Loki puts one of his hands on your hip to guide you and the other he uses to pin the petals of the rose so the softness touches the both of you. You gasp in shock at the feeling. It is such a duality of sensations, soft, velvety rose petals teasing your clit as his hardness enters you with smooth thrust. Neither of you are able to hold back moans of pleasure. Loki tilts your hips up for a better angle. He moves with you. Neither of you closes your eyes but keep them locked on each others. Every time his thrust reaches it's apex his lips gently sweep across yours. Finally, his thrusts strengthen and his breathing becomes more labored. “Loki, Loki, Loki.” you moan his name again and again until it becomes the mantra you live by.
He softly cries out your name. His kisses coming faster and thrusts deeper. His glorious blue eyes lock with yours and you are finally able to release the glorious pressure he has built inside you. You arch your back to release all that pent up energy and you cry out the name of the author of your pleasures as your orgasm rushes through you, leaving you helpless and ecstatic.

The poems in the story are both by Oscar Wilde 1.Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring 2.Under The Balcony
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A love story, a rose, and a book of poems