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Nú Brennur Tú I Mer	By : Gwyndolynelizabeth Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Thor Views: 3663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from this story, or from the Thor/Avengers fandom. it is all owned by Marvel and I am not making any money off of writing or publishing this story.

Chapter List
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How did this strange woman pervade his mind so? Loki could think of naught else but her face and her body—he forgot that they were in the woods, or that she was not of any of the realms of Asgard, and the thought that anyone might come looking for him after his absence from the banquet in his father’s palace had not crossed his mind.
Her keen eyes, wide and innocent, watched him as he began to unlace the front of his leggings, and he felt he could not undo the lacing fast enough. She sat upon the grass and he stood, her eyes reflected the moonlight until they became lights of their own.
She was haunting.
Loki felt tremors down his spine while she watched him. When the horrible, confining garment finally fell to the ground and he stepped out of it, he waited for her reaction, for she looked directly upon his manhood but said nothing. He waited, the breeze in the night air rustling their hair; her hair tousled as if it had a life of its own.
Finally, after a very quiet, still moment, the woman rose to her feet and took two steps forward to approach the prince, and there was cautious hesitance in her footsteps. Loki could see she was unsure. She still trembled, her hand shaking as it lifted to brush loose strands of hair behind her ear.
He reached his hand out, and she took it—his heart fluttered when she did, for he felt that she trusted him, and he knew she had absolutely no reason to. “Come here, lady…” He murmured, and she smiled faintly, bestowing her smile upon Loki’s face, for he could not help but reassure her, and if a small, sweet smile did just that, then so be it.
Strange that she merited reassurance and care in his mind. He had not the slightest idea why she deserved tenderness, but she did.
Loki drew the woman against him, and she exhaled the sweet scent of flowers, her eyes darting to his, her warm hands pressing against his chest.
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The heart in her breast fluttered as he drew her against him with such force that she gasped. His arms, long, and powerful, wrapped around her, his hands with long fingers massaged her backside, pressing her lower half against his where she could feel the hardness and heat from his erect manhood waiting for her. Her breathing quickened, but she guessed that he could tell and enjoyed it from the burning look in his eyes. She did enjoy the feeling of her sensitive breasts moving against his chest—the feeling was quite erotic—it was strange, but she delighted in that small friction between the two of them.
He looked beautiful, enveloping her with his height and the length of his strong arms, and his fair skin caught the moonlight like ice. Tendrils of black hair, like hers, wisped before his face, tousled from removing his clothes; the tendons in his neck moved with each breath he took, for he breathed as heavy as she did.
It seemed as if the prince’s eyes were beset with emeralds, which shimmered with moisture when he blinked. They wandered over her face, darting from her lips to her bosoms, his lips pressed together tightly as if deep in thought, but as he thought, a grin began to curl up the corners of his mouth and her heart leapt to her throat while fire flooded her cheeks. “What will you do, prince?” She whispered, laying a single kiss on his chest.
“Well, enough of this…” The prince grinned and lifted her effortlessly in his arms, laying her on her back in the grass, as he had done moments before. He was rather rough, but his hand stayed behind her head to cushion it. He was above her, naked, glorious, seeping power from every pore in his skin, and she sighed with desire, a sudden feeling whose onset was quicker than the time it took her to blink; she did not want to blink for fear of breaking the spell his emerald eyes held over her, rendering her helpless to his lustful musings. He looked upon her like she was something to be awed, and she thought that perhaps he was not used to such awe, and wanted her to worship him as he would love to worship her.
Braced on either side of her shoulders were his strong hands and arms supporting his weight, and he was between her legs, readying himself, breathing deep, his gaze rising from her womanhood to her eyes as with one powerful thrust he entered her and left her gasping for breath. She felt everything within her stretch as his full length and girth pervaded her body, and it felt delicious…albeit rather raw, but he did wait half a moment to allow her to catch her breath, and when she did, she giggled, reaching her hands forth to graze her fingertips over the tight muscles of his chest and shoulders. He released a long breath and smirked, his emerald eyes still burning as he bent down and nipped her right breast. She hissed, but he chuckled devilishly.
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She felt so warm and tight around his length that Loki thought he had died and gone to Valhalla, or that there was no other woman in any world who felt as wonderful as this one did, and when he withdrew only to plummet back into her scorching depth, she released such a sweet, erotic moan that he thought he would release into her too quickly if she kept making such sounds. She was wet, slick, her body begging for all of him and more.
“My, my…” He breathed, distracted by her hands massaging his shoulders and neck. He withdrew and thrust inside of her again, harder this time, then felt her walls clench around him as she gasped and dug her nails into the skin on his shoulders. That burned, but Loki did not mind in the least, rather, he relished in the feeling, and in the sight of her eyes rolling and closing in pleasure, her breasts bouncing playfully with each thrust he made, and the harder he thrust, the more they swung to and fro. Again he thrust, and again, and again, until she hadn’t time to gasp for air, though her lips parted in a silent cry.
Loki lowered himself farther onto his elbows, never breaking pace. She whimpered, her voice trembling as the angle of his thrusts changed thus, more to pleasure the deepest, most tender spot within her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and they both released moans and sighs betraying their pleasure. Loki was shocked that this strange, foreign woman felt so deliciously wonderful! She made deep, guttural vocalizations of his lust and passions arise in his chest to escape his lips; she made the very blood in his body boil!
“Loki…” He heard his name upon her lips, such a faint sound that he nearly missed it. He smirked, answering with a powerful thrust that caused her to cry out. Shocked, she covered her mouth quickly with her tiny hand, biting the side of her palm to keep from crying out as he pounded mercilessly deep inside of her. Then he saw her face flush red and she giggled, or did so as best she could. Her eyes twinkled, and his smirk softened to a smile. She moaned, rising to her elbows until their faces nearly met, and the angle of his member within her was changed once more and they both shuddered. “Your smile is… warm…”
Loki’s heart began to melt from the glimmer in her eyes, and he let his smile grow. He swallowed hard, catching his breath before he asked: “You think… my smile is… warm?” She nodded, her nose brushing against his when she did so. He wanted to laugh, but he did not. He thought that she saw his eyes laugh, for hers did in reply, and she planted a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. Loki pulled his face away, but she persisted, took his face in her tiny, soft hands, and pressed her warm, full lips against his.
A kiss? Loki had never kissed nor been kissed—a kiss was too sweet and gentle of a gesture, such a gesture that he felt he could never afford to lend or receive. But her lips danced against his in the same rhythm as their bodies moving together; he felt her hot breath and took her bottom lip in resignation to give in to her affections as he returned her kiss with more fervor. While their kiss gained more passion and fury, so did the ardent collision of their flesh and the sound of her arousal like a puddle inside of her. That sound drove Loki mad, for he knew that with each lunge delving deeper into her quivering center, she drew nearer to her release, so he quickened the pounding rhythm of his thrusts. She covered her mouth but he still heard her begin to cry out, softly at first, but louder when he did not falter from the new pace. “Ah! Loki!” She removed her hand, trying not to cry out, but failing miserably. “Loki! Loki… oh…oh my!”
Sweat shone like a mist over her body, and it dripped onto Loki’s face and over his clenched, tightened muscles. The merciless, pounding new rhythm drove him deeper and deeper into her, as deep as he could go, driving her wild, causing her to clench her finger nails into his back and side, scratching as she grasped for a tighter hold to allow him even more access. “Deeper, I beg!” She moaned, and he took hold of her hips and held her down on top of him so tightly that their skin no longer collided, and he could not withdraw, forcing him in the deepest he had been, till he swore he could feel the contractions and spasms of the deepest part of her womanhood. His arms began to shake, and her mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes open wide, tears glistening in the corners of them.
Then, with nothing more than a deep gasp from between her lips, her head fell back and her body collapsed on the grass, nails digging into Loki’s wrists until they drew blood, while her release gushed onto his abdomen. She writhed like a creature, not a woman, gasping though she could take in no air, trying to pull away from Loki’s length, but he held her in place with one hand on her pelvis, feeling his member pulse inside of her wildly convulsing womanhood, the soaking, dripping wetness of her walls milking all that he had to offer like invisible hands.
While she still writhed beneath him, he met his release with a cry, nearly collapsing on top of her. He supported himself as best he could on trembling arms while his body convulsed with the strength of his climax, and each time she contracted around him made him start, keeping his member painfully hard inside of her. Hot, creamy seed trickled from between her legs onto the grass, mixed with her own arousal. She finally caught her breath, but it was labored and she could not yet speak. Her body still spasmed, sending tremors along the prince’s length and over his entire body as he, too, began to recover from the potency of his orgasm.
He removed himself from within her, and watched as seed and fluid trickled out of her. She swallowed hard and drew her knees together, shuddering at the friction such a motion caused between her legs, and when she giggled, peaceful, languidly relishing in the warmth of post climax, Loki found himself chuckling merrily with her, smiling.
Finally, she was able to raise herself to her elbows, and when she did, she kissed Loki’s lips once more, lingering. “Your lip is swollen!” She laughed, wiping her saliva from it with the tip of her fore finger, blushing like a flower.
“Swollen?” Loki mused, touching her bottom lip with his thumb, “If I were you, lady, I would not press my lips together for a day or two!” and she winced when she did what he said she should not.
Loki rose to his knees, sighing, satisfied inside, and ready for a good night’s rest, but he could not remove is eyes from the woman as she rose to her knees as well and played idly with a lock of her hair. He did not want to leave the ashen grove. He sighed and he knew she saw the remorse in his eyes. “Where are you from?” He asked the same question he had asked her in the beginning.
“I told you, prince,” She smiled, “I am from very far away.” and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her pale face was beset with roses and her eyes shone like precious jewels as she looked upon him. “And you should return.”
“You said so earlier this night.” Loki returned. “Look what became of that advice…” She giggled.
“You should return. I must leave this place before the sun rises… and the sun is closer to waking than you might think.” She turned to look over her shoulder, and when Loki followed her gaze he saw that the black easterly sky was tinted with the palest blue. What had felt like mere moments when he was with that woman were really hours and the morning was nigh.
“Where will you go?” Loki sighed once more, but she raised her finger to his lips.
“Far away.” She giggled faintly.He thought he saw the slightest shadow of remorse flash over her beautiful face. But she rose to her feet, her footing unsteady.
Loki rose as well, holding his hand out to keep her from falling, for her legs were still weak, as if she had not yet fully recovered from his affections. She bent and recovered her chemise, now dry, and slipped it over her head to cover her body from his sight. He slipped into his leggings again, and into his boots, but he was slow, regretful that the night had to end at all. He brought her dress out of hiding; she found it laying spread on the grass near the spring, and donned it and all of her jewelry so that she was no longer the sweet, delicate maiden naked and vulnerable beneath him. She was once more a mysterious, shockingly beautiful lady clad in silk and gold that had, the previous evening, caught the light of the setting sun so well that she herself looked like a walking ray of sunlight. Her hair, however, remained loose over her shoulders, and her bright eyes looked upon the young prince with deep affection.
Loki nodded a farewell, unsure of what he should say, for she was the only woman who would care what he said or did as she left. She returned the gesture, and turned away. Seven soundless steps took her to the edge of the tree line, and even as Loki’s keen eyes watched her leave, she disappeared from sight, leaving him all alone in the ashen grove. He felt his stomach sink, and there was a strange emptiness inside of him.
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Loki walked up the hillside toward his father’s palace, and as he drew near the back gate he checked to ensure that his appearance was acceptable. He had returned his hair to its place, and washed the evidence of the night’s events off of his abdomen, and the sweat from his face and neck.
The only evidence he thought would be difficult to hide from his mother and brother were the scabbed, crescent shaped marks on his wrists… and the damn swollen lip.
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Nú Brennur Tú I Mer