Your Way Out

Enrichment

I fought with the dawn to stay asleep. Eyes clenched tight, I counted the seconds as they passed between snoozing my alarm and the obnoxious buzzing that shook my pillow. It was useless. I was wide awake and late for my session with Loki. 

Lazily, I threw a white button-up shirt over a comfortable tank-top. I slipped on my trusty pair of black slacks and shiny black flats before rushing out the door. Agent Hanna was waiting for me at the end of the corridor. Her dark eyes were fixed on her watch. Tapping her foot impatiently, she glared up at me with a serious expression. 

"Miss. Bright, I'm sorry to bother you. You look like you're in a hurry. Somewhere to be?" she hissed sarcastically. 

I could only apologize so much, but her expression never changed. I had waltzed right onto her shit-list. Justifiably so. It didn't stop the guilt from ravaging my guts.

As we approached Loki's cell door, my stomach churned. It felt like I was being kicked over and over again. The door opened with an excruciatingly slow creek, revealing Loki sitting diligently at the white fold out table. 

Agent Hanna stood next to me. Tap tap tap. Her fingers impatiently clattered against her tablet. "Don't keep our guest waiting," she mumbled. At that moment I didn't know who I was more afraid of, Loki or Agent Hanna. 

I tripped over the lip of the door and stumbled inside the room. I stumbled into a dense invisible fog of heat and musk. I was immediately overwhelmed with desire. His desire. How did mask it so well? Loki's face remained calm and collected. His eyes  a mystic shade of blue, reflecting nothing but thoughtful contemplation and regal form. He sat relaxed and composed, like a CEO with a business proposal.
I fought through the swell of heat and made my way over to my chair. His eyes followed my every move like a cat watching its prey from the tall grass. I shivered as I sat down. The folder trembling in my grasp.

"Rough night?" Loki quirked.

I mustered enough composure to peer up at him. How was he more beautiful than a dream?

"Rough morning," I replied.

He was amused. He didn't have to smirk or chuckle. I felt his enjoyment. It was feral and devious with a hint of pride.

"I understand. I found it hard to get out of bed this morning," he began. I perked an eyebrow at him. "My dreams lately have been rather lovely. Its been near impossible to pull myself away," he sighed with somber despair.

"Deep breaths," I reminded myself. 

The air was so thick I thought I'd drown in it. My fingers tapped the table urgently. My anxiety mixed with Loki's sexual frustration caused a riot in my veins. An electric whirlwind that sent jolts through my muscles. I twitched and fidgeted, unable to veil my discomfort.

"Would you like some coffee?" I asked him. My lips trembled so I bit down hard to conceal the panic. 

Loki's brows creased apprehensively. "No, thank you," he answered. 

"Breakfast?"

"Thank you, but I'd rather eat my own arm than the garbage they serve," he grumbled. He cast a sharp glare at a camera and back to me. 

Silence. Awkward, uncomfortable silence. Loki twiddled his thumbs while I pondered over notes, pictures, and dozens of documents regarding S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collective knowledge on Loki, his family, and events that took place on Earth revolving them. It was a feeble distraction, but it was all I could do to tune out the unbearable fever that was seeping into my skin. 

I could feel Loki's eyes on me. I could practically hear the gears whirling in his head as he questioned by every movement. Why was I drumming my fingers like that? Why was I biting my lip? Why was I so quiet? Was this a power move? Did he fuck something up? It was almost refreshing to feel the impassive Prince stir with worry.