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The Maid and the Monster	By : TheOtherAdler Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 8568 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers and make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-The Maid and the Monster
- 1
Additional warnings: Non-con, dub-con, partial mind control if you squint, mild violence, Loki/OFC, Not Mary Sue, canon, plot what plot, S/m, D/s, Top!Loki, Evil!Loki, magic as aphrodisiac, Loki's big throbbing inferiority complex, alien sex gods get all the good lines

And my entire prompt for this was "Loki in black leather pants and bracers, no shirt." xD

*****final re-write done, thanks to my beta readers!*****

The Maid and the Monster

Loki stood by the darkened window, staring out at the glittering lights of the city and trying to banish the niggling unease that still preyed on his mind. His hands clenched anxiously in his pockets.

This was a side of him he could never let others see, not the humans who had joined his war effort--willingly or otherwise--and certainly not the Chitauri he hoped to lead. No one could be allowed to peek past his veneer of charming, sociopathic certainty and icy calm.

But deep in the recesses of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shut it out, Loki doubted. He knew the history of Midgard, and it was a bloody one. Funny that such frail, short-lived creatures would struggle so fiercely against oppression when their very natures demanded stewardship; only the guidance of a strong leader would keep them from self-destruction. They must, he reasoned, understand that somewhere in their dim little minds.

And yet...

What if I fail? What if the mortals refuse to recognize my authority? What if they rise up against me? What if... I am not strong enough?

Irritably, he turned his back on the window, pacing again as he'd done for nearly an hour, now. This was a vital point in his plan, and it must go flawlessly. But more than that, he needed to know that he wasn't wrong about these people or their willingness to bow and accept his rule. It was, although he would never have admitted it to anyone else, a thing he genuinely needed. A thing he craved more than anything else, even revenge on his idiot brother.

Not my brother. he corrected out of habit.

There came a knock at the door, pulling him out of his thoughts. He stood, silent and watchful, in the center of the room as a faintly-accented female voice identified herself as "hospitality" and at his agreement, entered the room bearing a small tray that rattled with dishes--fresh fruit, and dark German coffee. Room service.

Gretchen paused in the doorway, feeling pinned in place by the sharp green eyes of the man in front of her. He was dressed like any other businessman she'd encountered--black slacks and shoes, crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, sleeves rolled back to the elbows--but there was something about him, maybe his bearing, or that subtle hardness around the eyes... Whatever it was, it set her pulse racing and filled her with a ridiculous impulse to fling the tray at him and run away as fast as she could.

Instead, she took a slow breath and stood up straighter, forcing herself to offer him a bright, brittle smile.

"Herr Laufeyson? Your room service?"

Loki's quick verdant gaze darted from the tray to the woman carrying it. Tall, but not enough that she could have met his eyes without standing on toe-tip. Sun-kissed skin complimented by straight, smooth brown hair that followed the curve of her shoulder. She was quite pretty, and the wood-brown eyes that fixed on him were wide with a fear that she was trying uselessly to conceal.

He found that he had no interest in the food or drink anymore, and told her airily to leave the tray on the side table. His worries began to fade, too--he could pass the remaining time in much more pleasant pursuits, and reassure himself as to the rightness of his plan. This woman would be his test case, and provide a much-needed distraction.

Loki smiled slowly, showing a thin crescent of perfect white teeth. Gretchen moved an inch nearer to the door, eyes wary but the mask of false cheer still firmly in place.

Her heart gave a few desperate thumps against her breastbone, each one as slow and distinct as a hand knocking on a door. Time seemed to slow with the neck-prickling awareness of danger, and in the surreal pause that followed, she found herself admiring the man's smile, even as sinister as it was. His lips were a delicate pink against fair skin and his sharp cheekbones were accentuated by the tightening muscles, slightly softening the stony, unforgiving set of his eyes as the skin around them crinkled warmly.

He was an attractive man, she had to admit. Strands of soft, glossy black hair fell into his eyes as he watched her; longer than she usually preferred, but... it suited him, somehow.

On the other hand, he was still looking at her the way a wolf might look at a cornered rabbit.

Gretchen shook off whatever odd fancy had gripped her, reaching clumsily for the doorknob while trying to retain her pleasant facade.

When she spoke, her voice was just a bit too high and the tremor in it made her wince. "If there's... nothing else, then..." she said, licking her lips nervously and turning to go.

She never saw the man move. No one could have crossed the distance that quickly, she was sure of it--not even with his long legs--but suddenly his body was against hers, his nose inches away from her face. The door closed firmly at her back, his palm pressed flat to the wood just above her head. His other arm blocked her escape, effectively hemming her in without really touching her. A knot of fear cinched tight in Gretchen's stomach as she stared up at him.

"Actually," Loki said, still smiling as his eyes flicked to her name tag, "Gretchen... There is one thing more."

He didn't just speak her name, he purred it.

Too stunned to think of escape yet, she simply stared up at him, blinking stupidly and cursing at her own slowness.

"Herr Laufeyson?" she ventured, voice high and strained.

The man's smile broadened, though his eyes narrowed at the same time. That combination sent a shiver dancing down Gretchen's spine.

"Please." he said, amusement in his silken voice as the bolt above her head slid into place, "Call me 'Loki'."

She was warm, he noted. Deliciously, humanly warm. It brought to mind youthful hunting trips to Midgard, and the quick little deer he could run down on foot while his brother sought larger game. He would occasionally kill a stag just to prove himself a worthy hunter, but it was the chase and the capture he loved best, seeing the eyes roll with terror until the whites showed and feeling the thundering heart under his hand.

Backed against the locked door with her brown eyes glancing frantically around the room, trembling with sheer panic in front of him, she reminded Loki of the deer.

He let go of the illusion that had helped him blend in, thin rays of gold shimmering briefly over his body as the suit vanished, replaced with his Asgardian clothes; no armor beyond the leather pants and bracers that closed the cuffs of his tunic, everything black, but lined in deep emerald to match his eyes. The dark colors made his fair skin seem even brighter, which was, he knew, a striking effect. A few women in Asgard had found that sharp contrast appealing, and more than a few men, as well.

The sudden shift in appearance had an unprecedented effect on his guest, however--she stood with her hands over her mouth, a look of sheer dumb surprise on her face and eyes so wide that he wondered if they might be forced from their sockets.

All that, he mused, and he hadn't put forth any real effort yet. Apparently this was going to be easier than expected.

Gretchen tried to refute what her brain kept insisting she'd just seen, lowering her hands slowly and mouthing words that she couldn't yet speak. The leading sentence might have been a simple "How?" but she never had the chance to articulate it.

Loki's hand dropped to her shoulder, the other holding her arm tightly enough to bruise the skin as he turned, dragging her away from the door and shoving her roughly into the center of the room.

Gretchen stumbled and slid, the carpet leaving red marks on her knees and the heels of her hands as she caught herself. The drop had winded her, but instinct demanded that she carefully watch the strange creature (was he an alien? A magician? How had he done what she'd just seen him do?) pacing slowly around her. His heavy, round-toed boots didn't seem capable of moving as lightly or as gracefully as he did, and she wondered if that, too, was a trick.

Then she realized she was on all fours in a locked room with a very scary man, and pulled her head together as well as she could, drawing a deep breath to scream for help.

The man pounced, crouching to meet her eyes and then catching a handful of her long, brown hair, wrapping it around his fingers as he pulled--hard enough that she could feel the hairs tearing free--and bringing her abruptly to her feet.

"Gretchen." he said firmly, the sound ringing in her head and demanding her attention. His grip eased so that she could turn to look at him. "What floor are we on?"

She frowned at the question.

"Th-the... 37th?"

Loki leaned in close, his breath hot and damp against her cheek. "If you scream," he said, "it would trouble me in no wise to toss you through the nearest window. I would not be caught, and you... would be dead. I doubt that's an outcome that would please either of us."

Gretchen swallowed hard as the words settled into her mind, and in the following silence her frightened gasps were far too loud in her own ears. She bit her bottom lip, then lowered her eyes in acceptance, and the dark-haired man smiled, untangling his long fingers from her tawny locks.

He studied her for a few seconds, then brushed her shoulder, smoothing back the few stray strands of brown his outburst had left tousled.

His fingertips continued to move, tracing her shoulder, then dancing above the swell of her breasts, pausing briefly between them. Had she seen a faint blue glow, under his hand?

She felt a sudden warmth spreading outward from that point, almost like goosebumps over her skin. The fear eased, though it didn't vanish, and something... else began to stir, inside her. She fought it down and stared hard at the man--Loki, he'd said his name was, and she nearly laughed at the thought that perhaps she was in the presence of one of the old gods.

The curve of his jaw, the thin pink knife-edge of his smile, even the predatory gleam of his poison-green eyes, all of these things made her increasingly less fearful and more... Welcoming. Some dark, traitorous part of her mind began whispering that this was right, that she wanted to submit to this creature, wanted to please him.

Gretchen shook her head to clear it, wondering why the man was chuckling at her, now.

It would have been unfair to do more than plant the seed in her mind, he knew, but already Loki could see her struggle against the suggestive spell, fighting to keep control of her body. He couldn't help but laugh, really, knowing how useless that was. A token challenge was always amusing, though; it made victory sweeter when it came.

He watched her warm, dark eyes unfocus, the lids lowering slightly as her body reacted to his nearness. Her full lips reddened, pupils dilating, and he could see the pulse in her neck flutter as her heart raced. Best of all, the spell did nothing unless that desire already existed; it didn't create, it only enhanced.

Under different circumstances, he'd have greatly preferred seducing her without the aide of magic. He simply didn't have the time for small talk or charm, tonight. Perhaps he'd visit her again after the battle had been won, assuming she was still alive by then...

He stroked the tender skin of her neck, tracing a gentle path downward that followed the neckline of her uniform, watching as her chest rose and fell rapidly under his hand. The dress she wore--soft grey with white cuffs and collar--struck him with familiarity; he'd seen others in the hotel dressed the same way, and it reminded him of something else, from another time and place.

"Are you a servant?" he asked softly. She flashed him a baffled, vaguely offended look.

"I work in... hospitality, Herr--erm, Loki. Some cleaning, but... mostly I just fetch things for the guests."

He nodded thoughtfully to himself. Her description was exactly that of a servant, though apparently they were called something else, here. Needlessly confusing, that. He'd have to simplify class distinctions during the reformation.

He smiled again, pleasantly, eyes bright and thoughts blissfully clear of concern. His wandering hands caressed the rounded swell of her breasts, lifting and squeezing--harder than he should have, perhaps, but Gretchen leaned into his palms all the same, eyes rolling upward beneath the lids and stifling a moan.

He murmured into her ear, a lush, tantalizing sound that made her shiver and press more eagerly against him. "Do you object to being touched, little servant?"

She bristled at the term, brows knitting for a second, but then his thumbs circled the stiffening nipples beneath the fabric of her dress, and the objection was overruled. Gretchen bit her lip again, undecided as to how she should answer. Inevitably, she stretched to place her lips near his ear. "...No." she admitted.

His grin was as wild and dazzling as his eyes, fingers catching the rounded collar of her blouse as he pulled, snapping away the buttons and freeing the thin top from its matching skirt.

He marveled at the fine, lightly-tanned skin beneath her shirt, the smooth, rounded breasts confined by the white silk and lace of her bra cups. Such lovely cages for such lovely assets, he mused. His broad hands squeezed the softness of both fabric and flesh, drawing an unconscious, lilting sigh from her, then he tucked his fingers beneath the lace-trimmed edges and tugged, tearing the bra in half and baring her fully to his touch.

Gretchen felt oddly dizzy, a growing tension low in her body dragging her concentration away from the fear and the thoughts of escape. Her skin tingled where he touched it--long-fingered hands cupping her breasts, now, crushing one hardened nipple beneath each thumb.

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, his lean, hard form suddenly tight against hers. The nearness left her breathless and unsteady on her feet, that weakness only worsened by his fingertips toying with her nipples, squeezing and rolling each one in turn until the tension between her legs was nearly painful.

Loki watched her from under lowered lids, no longer smiling. His expression was intent, his voice husky with unconcealed lust. "Kneel for me." he said.

Gretchen's spine stiffened, her brow puckering with distaste. "No!" she snapped, fighting to clear her mind of the spell clouding it.

Loki could hardly have looked more stunned if she'd struck him with his brother's hammer. "No?" he asked in a deadly, incredulous whisper, pulling abruptly away from her.

She swallowed hard, looking up at him fearfully and covering her breasts with her hands.

His anger coalesced into action, teeth bared and eyes cold as he lashed out, striking her hard across the cheek. Gretchen gasped and pressed her palm to the stung skin, expression pained and frightened, tears welling in her eyes.

The look on her face was gratifying, but not enough to soften the insult of her refusal. Loki's mind whirled bitterly. If I cannot make one pathetic woman yield to me--a servant, no less--what hope have I of ever ruling this miserable realm?

She would, he resolved, learn her place and pay for this insult.

"I wanted to do this gently." he said, his tone accusatory. "Apparently that won't be possible, but either way, you will kneel."

He was breathing faster, and dimly aware that his composure had cracked, but couldn't bring himself to care. This was a test, and he would not fail it.

He offered the ghastliest parody of a smile, his voice no longer smoothly seductive, now, but harsh and low. "Won't you?" he sneered, face and tone suggesting that he would simply snap her neck if she refused again.

Gretchen glanced anxiously at the floor, unsure how to proceed, but gradually lowered her head, blushing furiously as she did so, and bent one trembling leg after the other, finally kneeling in front of Loki with head bowed low.

He allowed himself a small, unseen smile as he brushed her reddened cheek, soothing the skin idly with the native chill of his touch while renewing the more complex spell he'd used to pull her desire to the surface before. Strong fingers curling under her chin, he tipped the woman's head back, watching as her lashes fluttered in response to the faint warmth that swept over her skin. He could see her nipples flush a deep coral and harden, the skin crinkling around each stiff point. That was more like it, he thought, stroking her cheek absently with his thumb.

"Isn't this better?" he asked softly, deeply gratified when the sound of his voice caused her breaths to quicken. "So much easier, isn't it? So much more right."

Gretchen bit the corner of her lip, staring up at Loki dizzily. "...Yes." she found herself saying, voice barely more than a whisper. Her nipples throbbed steadily in time with her pulse and the heat between her legs was almost unbearable. She shifted on her heels and tried not to think about it, but found it impossible to ignore. More worrying still, that treasonous internal voice seemed to agree with him. It felt perfectly natural that she should be on her knees before this man, even if she would never have done it for anyone else. And not for the reasons she would have thought--him slapping her, the earlier threat--no, it was... something else that she responded to; a subtle aura of power and sensuality he seemed to carry. She licked her lips and stared up at him, transfixed in spite of herself.

He spoke again, voice threaded with the gentle pressure of suggestion: "You want to please me, don't you, Gretchen? Your future king."

Frowning briefly in confusion at his last sentence she focused on the question instead, her mind still cocooned in a heady fog of arousal. Finally, she closed her eyes and nodded; a quick, nervous gesture of assent.

Loki's jaw twitched, his eyes focusing keenly on her face as he drank in the sight of her surrender. His own desire, tended like banked coals from the moment he'd held her pinned against the door, suddenly flared to life, sending a thrill of lust through his body. He could feel his cock hardening, a feverish weight that pressed uncomfortably against the front of his leather trousers, and with a delightful shiver, he unbuttoned and freed it, staring ardently down at Gretchen. She glanced at his hardness with a deep, crimson blush but carefully straightened, anticipating what must come next.

Lips twitching at her embarrassment, Loki placed one large, spidery hand on the back of her head, holding her securely in place as he pressed the tip to her mouth. She struggled at first, brown eyes silently pleading, but that only encouraged him, and inevitably she was forced to accept, tasting the barest trace of salt on his skin as the head of his cock slid over her tongue. His deep sigh of pleasure ended in something that was nearly a moan, and the smooth rumble of sound delivered an unexpected jolt of heat to the core of her body. Again, the urge to serve this... being seemed to overtake her as she glanced up at his delicate features, his eyes closed blissfully as he guided her head in slow, steady strokes.

His closeness, the heat of his skin, the scent of leather and his own unique pheromone signature, and above all the smooth, tempting pressure of his hardness moving slickly in and out of her mouth, all of these things combined to ratchet up the tension low in her body until Gretchen could hardly breathe. She felt her own wetness and the insistent ache that drove it, tucking one hand between her thighs to cup the damp heat there, grinding with abandon against her palm while her other hand reached for his shaft.

At the smooth, sudden pressure of her fingers around him, Loki drew a sharp breath and stared down for a few heartbeats, watching her eager, wanton movements with delight before relaxing again, his hold on her head easing as her head bobbed and twisted on its own. He settled into the pace set by her warm grip and eager mouth, his low breaths giving way to wordless moans and murmurs as her tongue curled and flicked along the underside of his cock, thrashing and swirling when he drew slowly back. As he drove forward again, she guided him deeper, until the rounded tip snugged firmly into the back of her throat, depriving her of air, but purely of her own volition. She showed a truly unexpected skill, and he begrudgingly revised his opinion of mortal women a little; they clearly had their uses.

It was difficult to stop there, but as much as he enjoyed her talents, he wanted something more. Pulling away with a sigh of regret, he ordered her huskily onto the bed, tucking his still-stiff member away again and re-buttoning his pants. Gretchen dared a quick glance up at his face, then frowned stubbornly at the floor, resisting the persistent, breathtaking urge to submit, serve, please this man. She wanted it terribly, but couldn't pinpoint why she wanted it, and that confusion troubled her enough to struggle against the compulsion.

Loki leaned down, his face only inches from hers and the tips of his soft, black hair brushing her cheek. She could feel his breath on her lips, making them tingle and itch.

"Do as you are bid, little servant." he growled, eyes gleaming fiercely in warning. Gretchen winced at his reaction, but still shook her head and looked away, head bent low to hide her fear.

His breath hissed in irritation as he pulled her roughly to her feet, catching the hem of her skirt and tearing it away with only the barest tug. He did the same to her panties, then spun her--her eyes springing open in shock--and all but tossed her onto the bed.

Shakily, Gretchen pulled herself up onto all fours, preparing to scramble off and, if she was lucky, out the door before Loki could stop her. Her hands and feet, though, refused to cooperate. She pulled and struggled to lift them from the bed, but they stayed in place as if they were bound with unseen loops of metal. The nothing that kept them pinned actually felt cold against her skin, and she shoved down the panic of being held by an unseen force. There was no getting around it, now--this man was not normal. What was happening was simply impossible, and yet, it was happening. The buried panic left her quivering weakly in the unseen shackles, and she cursed her own weakness for reacting so damned predictably.

Loki was intensely displeased by the woman's contrary dissent, though he wouldn't have admitted to himself exactly why it frustrated him so. This was no longer a test case, though; no longer something he could engage in dispassionately. It was suddenly and strangely personal and he was now determined to conquer this pathetic creature, to teach her to respect him, draw her desire out until she begged for him to have her, to use her, and then quite possibly snap her neck when he was done, though he was undecided on that particular point.

Seeing that she was bound, he pulled off his tunic angrily, not even bothering to unfasten the leather bracers but only tugging the fabric free before dropping the garment onto a nearby chair. The insult of it all stung more deeply than he wanted to admit, and the prickling discomfort of avoidance honed his anger to a keen edge. He was well past any thought of seduction or subtlety, now. He wanted to break her.

Loki reached for the walking stick he'd left tucked away in the corner; his scepter in disguise, of course, with the top glowing an icy, far-too-familiar shade of blue. As he turned, the cane shifted easily, dwindling to a thin, abbreviated rod and tapering at the tip. It still felt wonderfully comfortable in his hand, as it had since the first time he'd held it, and the narrowed end, he knew, was supple enough to cut skin with only minimal effort. His smile was twisted with spite, but Gretchen couldn't see it from where she knelt. Not that it would have mattered--she couldn't escape what was coming and he'd soundproofed the room with his magic as soon as she'd opened her mouth to scream. The threat had only been to prevent her wasting time and breath on the effort.

He crossed to the bed and stopped, watching her lithe form appreciatively despite his annoyance. She was still making every effort to free herself, but the straining and squirming were oddly... attractive, somehow. He quirked a faint smile and brushed the tip of the cane over her skin, following the curve of her legs upward from the bend of her knees to the dimpled muscles of her rear. Gretchen froze, head raising in a sudden snap of movement as the breath caught in her throat.

Perfect. Loki thought, pausing to enjoy her panic before lifting the cane high and bringing it down again with a sharp, hissing crack across the backs of her thighs.

She curled in on herself defensively, hair tossed wildly across her shoulders by the movement. Drawing a quick, deep breath, she released it slowly in a long, wavering cry of pain. Another swat followed the first, and more after that, each one tracing lines of bitter, stinging heat across the tender skin of her legs. She pulled harder against her bindings, head shaking frantically as each new welt formed.

Loki's quickened breaths suggested more than just exertion--he was barely applying effort, after all--and his eyes blazed as he watched the woman struggle; heard the gasp and hitch of each inhalation as she fought down tears.

As delightful as he might've found that under different circumstances, he slowly moderated his anger, applying the whippy switch in lighter strokes across her rounded bottom and focusing... elsewhere.

The familiar hum of energy danced over his fingers where they gripped the cane's handle, and he smiled wickedly as the magic coiled and twisted from there, wrapping around the tapered end of the thin rod. With careful aim and a steady pace, he guided Gretchen expertly, using slower, lighter swats, until he'd led her to exactly the point he wanted. His reward came in the rhythmic, half-conscious rock and sway of her hips, accompanied by the sweet transformation from sharp, painful cries to shuddering, guilty moans.

"In Asgard, when a servant refuses her master's commands, she's punished for it." he lied smoothly; in truth, most were far more forgiving of minor transgressions than he was inclined to be, but he felt his way was more effective, as Gretchen was now proving. "You should be grateful--my punishments are rarely this pleasant."

Another lie, but there was no one to correct him, here.

Asgard?? Startled by the familiar word, she twisted her head quickly to look at him, shock plain on her sweet, sweat-dampened face. Loki laughed at her surprise, amazed that creatures as slow as she could still piece things together, however clumsily they did it.

"Oh, did you finally work out who I am, little servant? Did the epiphany hurt your poor, dull mind when it struck?"

Gretchen swallowed hard, panting with confusion, pain, the remnants of lust, and something near to terror, now.

The man--no, she corrected herself, the god--lowered the cane and rested a long, narrow hand on her hip, leaning in to murmur tauntingly to her. "Silvertongue. Lie-smith. Trickster. And far more titles beyond that than I can keep track of, but I've lately been more partial to 'Loki the Destroyer'." He gave a short, mirthless laugh and went on, his hold on her hip tightening enough to bruise as he stretched further across her back, pressing his erection firmly against her thigh.

"Before I'm done, you will worship me, Gretchen." he breathed, his soft voice heavy with certainty. "Do not doubt it."

The woman shivered at the low, hypnotic purr of his voice, frightened and ashamed of her body's responses all at the same time. The caning itself had been weirdly arousing, a fact she found too bitter to swallow, and now she could feel a single bead of wetness trickling along her inner thigh from the slick heat between her legs. Gretchen lowered her head, wishing she could vanish as the blush painted her skin with shame.

Loki traced the welts on the backs of her thighs with a cool, soothing touch, caressing her like a lover, and the ripple of longing that resonated through her traitorous, treacherous body tore a ragged sound of longing from her lips before she could stop it.

He chuckled with delight, setting the rod aside. His own desire was hardly less acute than hers, but he'd kept it tightly controlled, his composure icy as he studied the lines and curves of her body. She was quite lovely with her head bowed, he decided; he liked a creature that knew when it was conquered. But he wasn't finished yet.

Waving his hand in a brief, graceful gesture, he released the magic that had held her in place, certain now that she wouldn't try to escape again.

Still stroking her welted skin gently, he ordered her onto her back in the center of the bed, waiting warily to see if there would be any more resistance. To his relief and her great luck, Gretchen did exactly as she was told, and as he watched her, he wondered if the ruddy undertone that spread over her skin was from chagrin or excitement. He rather hoped it was a mixture of the two.

Crawling across the bed to join her, he watched with pure, wolfish amusement as her thighs parted in anticipation, her back curving slightly to lift her breasts. Oh, she was eager... but not as eager as she would be soon, he vowed with an impish leer. Holding the backs of her smooth thighs well parted, he brushed his lips across the sensitive skin just above her knee, kissing and tonguing a warm path higher until he reached the point where leg joined pelvis... then paused before pulling back to trace the same dainty, teasing steps along the other thigh's interior.

This time as he reached the apex, he paused to nuzzle into the soft, hairless skin of her mons, delighted that Midgardian women had finally adopted a more aesthetically pleasing approach to personal grooming. He trailed kisses maddeningly over her outer lips, relishing the soft sighs of longing she made. The muscles of her legs tightened under his touch, but she didn't lift toward him yet, perhaps afraid of raising his anger again.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her with eyes half-closed before starting the torment in earnest--grazing his tongue-tip along the edge of each fold, but only in a slow, single sweeps, lingering enough to make her breath catch but not enough to stimulate beyond the faintest tickle.

Exhaling slowly across her dampened skin, he cooled her feverish heat before repeating the trick--then parted her labia with long, deft fingers to lap and tease at the skin below, his dexterous tongue stroking and curling and delving into every nook, exploring every point except the one she most wanted him to. Her panting breaths urged him on, his delight in this small torture making his cock throb insistently where it nestled beneath him.

Finally, his mouth covered the stiff, reddening bud at the vertex of her nether lips, stroking back the hood to flick quickly against the hardened nub, delivering a maddening flurry of dashes against it before sucking it gently between his lips, trapping it in place and grinding slow, rough circles across it with the flat of his tongue.

Gretchen forgot her circumstances entirely, eyes rolling madly under the lids as her shoulders pressed hard into the pillows behind her. She hissed and groaned, writhing and lifting to meet each nimble flick of Loki's tongue, her hands buried in his thick, dark hair. With a low shudder, she braced and ground against his mouth with abandon, movements more frantic as her cries came louder and more shrill on each skilled thrust and swirl of his tongue.

He pressed two longer fingers against her outer labia, squeezing in time with the sweet, pulsing flutters of his tongue-tip until Gretchen hissed, her back straightening and legs trembling with strain, no more than seconds away from an earth-shattering orgasm.

Loki's teeth flashed viciously as he lifted his head, narrowed eyes watching with rapacious hunger as she whined in frustration, kicking as violently as his iron grip on her thighs would allow.

Once she had finally calmed completely, he dipped his head and began again, this time slipping his fingers into the wetness below before applying his tongue in a fluttering little dance of strokes above her throbbing clit, light, then hard, then light again, drawing her to the edge by slow degrees until she tensed helplessly, head tossing as she cursed vividly under her breath.

When he raised his head this time, Gretchen stopped muttering to simply wail, near-mad with the need for completion.

She watched him with a delirious kind of excitement, every move of his body intensely and unbearably seductive to her, now. His pale, bare chest was muscled without being bulky, like a dancer's or a runner's. The leather of his bracers glistened darkly in the room's low light, matching the leather of his trousers. Black and white in sharp contrast, and those bottle-glass green of his eyes standing out so vibrantly that she couldn't help but notice them. They were cold, those eyes, and twinkled with harsh amusement, but she couldn't look away, especially not as he pulled himself atop her, unfastening the front of his pants and positioning himself between her thighs, staring down like a man who'd just taken a country and was merely admiring what he now owned

The head of his cock nudged temptingly against her entrance, pausing there but moving no further. Loki smirked, his lips a thin, cruel line as he held her hips pinned against the bed, keeping her from raising to draw him in deeper--a reminder that she was not in control. Gretchen squirmed in frustration, only stilled when he lowered, bending until his face was so near hers that she could feel his breath and the warmth of his lips hovering just above her skin. He was still holding her eyes, and her heart thumped harder in her chest as if trying to escape the breathtaking awareness of him.

"Beg for my touch, Gretchen." he hissed. "Beg, like the needy little harlot we both know you are."

His hips moved the tiniest fraction forward, the tip of his cock only just penetrating her, now. The core of her body tightened painfully with desire, and all hope of self-control simply crumbled around her. Gretchen shivered and drew a deep, slow breath, her chocolate-brown eyes closing. Licking her lips, she whispered, "...Please..."

"Please what, you brazen whore? Ask me in detail. Give me your prayers and I might grant them."

Her eyelids fluttered, teeth clenching hard as she struggled to move her hips, every instinct screaming for his touch, but he retained the vexing distance, eyes flashing as he watched her writhe in longing beneath him.

"Please..." she murmured again, louder with yearning this time, but a sudden blush stinging her cheeks nonetheless, "Please fuck me..."

She continued to whisper to him, pleading for his touch, his kiss, even to serve and please him. The words spilled out, but she could hardly believe it was her speaking them.

Loki finally silenced her desperate voice with his mouth; a hard, hateful kiss that left the tender skin aching even as she marveled at the skillful flicks and teasing darts of his tongue, drawing her own out so easily. She kept her eyes closed as he plunged, sliding into her slick entrance easily and taking her in quick, brutal strokes. The memory of her soft, eager appeals echoed in his mind while he fucked her, pleasure thrumming through him in time with his pulse-beats as he basked in her pure, candid desire for him. That was precisely what he'd wanted, and now it was finally his.

It was only a few seconds after he'd begun that he felt her go taut, panting breaths catching suddenly in low, guttural moans. Gretchen braced as her muscles clenched around him, the heat inside her building to a scalding peak that she couldn't have backed down from if she'd tried. She silently prayed that he wouldn't stop her this time, but Loki spoke as if he'd read her thought, coaxing her over the edge at last.

Head back and spine arched, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly they'd have left fingernail marks if he were any other man, Gretchen howled in ecstasy. Her heels dug hard into the mattress as she rose to meet his thrusts, drowning in pure, blissful sensation.

Although occasionally cruel, Loki had always been a generous lover, and he delighted in her pleasure now, sliding one hand under her hips to guide them to his, delving more deeply to wring a second orgasm from her quivering body. This time, Gretchen's cries left her hoarse, her throat raw as the pleasure faded, leaving only stray shudders and whimpering sighs in its wake.

"Oh, god..." she moaned in astonishment.

Loki smirked. "Exactly." he said, his smile broadening as he sat back on his heels, tucking his knees under her thighs and then pulling her to meet him. Gretchen remained on her back, using the leverage of her bent legs to rock and grind against him.

His hands moved from her hips to her thighs, holding them apart and pulling on each new thrust to bring their bodies together again, the steady push and pull making her hips ache dully, but at this point she barely noticed.

His expression was serene, but a taut, violent excitement gained momentum below the surface, his arms and neck tensing as the brutal rhythm quickened further.

Gretchen watched him in awe, the dark, hidden part of her, the one that had whispered about service and submission and the need to bow to him now on the surface and eager to experience everything he had to offer.

Loki lowered his head with a faint groan, dark hair tumbling into his face and long, dark lashes twitching against his cheeks as he struggled to keep control of himself. His eyes slowly opened, meeting Gretchen's with a startling intensity. She swallowed hard and simply stared, completely unaware of herself.

But he was fully aware of her, warmed by the look of stunned adoration in her deep, brown eyes, the hectic flush of pink under her dusky skin, the parted lips and stuttering gasps that told him she was nearing the edge again. He resolved to wipe any thought of mortal sex from her mind, leaving no possibility of satisfaction with anyone else. For the rest of her life, he would be the high water mark by which all other sexual encounters were measured, though none could ever meet such a standard. That, he decided, was the price of her earlier refusals.

Holding her gaze, he leant down to toy with her nipples, squeezing each one in turn with his free hand while the other pulled her closer, guiding their pace and deepening this thrusts just as she started to squirm beneath him.

Pulling his legs deftly from beneath hers, he stretched atop her, still tugging and pinching one reddened nipple as he watched her face, reading the tension there like a book.

"This," Loki taunted, "is what you were made for."

He smiled slowly, like a shark preparing to bite, and let the magic flow from his fingers to her skin, trailing his hand gently downward to guide the spell lower. Gretchen gasped and went rigid in his arms, the silken heat between her legs tightening impossibly around him--drawing an unexpected moan from his lips as she squeezed his length harder--and then she was nearly screaming his name, her hands on his shoulders trembling as they gripped, her spine bowed in a helpless arc. The pleasure threatened to shake her apart, leave her shattered and broken, but Gretchen was perfectly willing to let it.

He licked his lips and watched her thrash, but found that her pleasure called to his, drawing him in slowly whether he was ready for it or not. Loki stopped fighting, his hand suddenly on her throat before her orgasm had even ended. His fingers curled, but he did not squeeze--only reminding her that he could if he chose to. The unspoken threat left an almost electric charge between them, too complex to articulate.

"Look at me." he commanded, his soft, hypnotic tones underscored by a sudden coldness that compelled her to obey. Iron under velvet.

She met his eyes nervously, his penetrating gaze holding her trapped. His breaths came in ragged gasps through clenched teeth, his delicate features, so coldly composed before, contorted fiercely in the moments before he came undone. She stared mesmerized until his thrusts became haphazard, the hand on her throat tightening dangerously as his eyes finally shuttered again, ecstasy pulling him under. Dropping his head, he moaned and growled against her ear, muttering in a language that sounded a little like Old High German, but wasn't. His tone suggested that whatever he'd said should make her blush, though, even if she hadn't a clue what it was.

Loki lifted his head and let go of her throat, his hands holding her face as he kissed her, hard and hungry, again and again. Neither of them could breathe, and to her shock, his hips were still moving. At the very point when she knew she absolutely couldn't come again, he forced her over the edge one last time, drawing back to watch with amusement as she arched against him, whimpering his name in her headlong tumble into bliss.

This was, he felt, a very successful test. Mortals were a bit more skeptical and contrary than he remembered, but he had no doubt that the rest would fall to him just as easily as this one had.
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The Maid and the Monster