Get On Your Knees and Pray To Me

Such A Pretty Mouth. Let's Put It To Use

When your eyes fluttered shut and didn't reopen, Loki took a deep breath. He brushed some of your hair away from your face as he straightened his back. Little snores escaped your lips, a sound that Loki would normally find irritating but from you, they were endearing.

Sort of.

You garbled out a snore and Loki grunted - never mind, not endearing. He rolled his eyes and pulled the sheets further up your body. The smell of sex still filled the room as Loki took a few steps away from the bed. As he stepped, the clink and clatter of the metal clasps and buckles of his leather armor rattled, stirring you. Loki could see the exhaustion on your face as you shuffled around in bed and he paused, not wanting to wake you. You sighed and settled further into the pillow, snores puffing from your lips again.

Loki waved his hand and his outfit changed. Instead of his armor, Loki was now dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and gray trousers. He kept the boots on - black Gucci with no laces or clasps - as he pattered around the room with his hands reaching into his pockets. He grimaced. These pockets are way too small, he thought. Magicking some larger pockets, Loki managed to stuff the totality of his hands into his pants.

Your room was small and incredibly cluttered. Loki stepped over piles of clothing, books, and records. Records? Loki knew it was a while since he visited Midgard but shit, people still listened to these things? He crouched down and picked one up. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, 1973, Elton John.

Loki lifted a brow. He remembered this bloke from when he visited Midgard in the early 70's. Elton was young, vibrant, and just a bit depressed. The singer had been drinking at the back of a bar, accent heavy as he slurred some incoherent noises. Loki had approached him, his confident swagger elevating him above the rest of the crowd. Elton locked eyes with him and the drunk smile left his face. Perhaps if he had been sober, Elton would have recognized him as the God of Mischief. But he didn't, for he was drunk off some cheap beer and too busy staring at Loki's ass. Loki could see in the young man's eyes that he wanted him and Loki was not one to turn down a good time. So, Loki had saddled up to him, hand resting on Elton's waist. He offered him a drink then ended up shagging him in the bathroom.

Loki was positive Elton had written at least two songs about him after that night.

He stared at the record with a grin. You snored like a beast but at least you had taste.

He placed the record down and stood back up, wiping his hands down the front of his charcoal pants. He went over to your dresser, drawers pushed out a bit from overflowing clothes. For a moment that lasted longer than Loki would like to admit, he wondered what kind of clothes you wore. The only clothing he had seen you in were your bathrobe and some delicious under garments. Did you prefer skirts or pants? Did you wear sweaters often because of the cold? Were you a sun-creature who dabbled in more revealing clothes but not for temptation, rather solely to keep your skin breathing? What colors did you wear? Surely, he would implement some green in there. It would look lovely with your eyes. Based on the fabric popping out from the sloppy drawers, you preferred browns, maroons, and navy as your typical color palette.

Loki had the urge to pull the drawers out, examine your clothing, and then promptly organize it all. The way the fabrics were poking out of the drawers made him shudder. Despite the disastrous state your dresser was in, Loki elected to ignore it.

He wandered over to your...bookshelf? Is that what he should call it? Really it was just a wooden structure with a few platforms wedged inside of it overflowing with novels, papers, and a few things he simply did not recognize. He skimmed his nimble fingers over the worn spines of the books and pulled one out at random. Fifty Shades of Grey, 2011, E. L. James.