Pushing Buttons

Indulgence (NSFW)

Love was rare. Even with Heimdall's keen sight he seldom labeled a relationship or attraction as such, especially when it came to himself. But lust? Lust was plentiful. And in many ways, it was useful. Whether a distraction or a means to obtain information, sex was as much of a tool as it was a luxury.

Skin to skin, with the opposite party begging for release, it was the perfect opportunity to draw out those dirty little secrets and desires that were hidden behind the everyday mask—

Clammy fingers pulled at his tunic, scrunching up the fabric as she all but took control. A sharp shove and he was on his back, laying atop a collection of furs and wool blankets. They had moved—he wasn't sure how, nor did it really matter, but they had ended up in her room, both equally hungry to devour the other.

She straddled him, lips crashing down onto his own again. Reflexively he placed his hands on her hips, holding her steady and in place as she feverishly deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue along his bottom lip, grinding her hips against his pelvis—

The action threatened to draw a moan from him, and he broke away from those pretty lips to allow her to catch her breath. "Keep this up and we'll be doing a lot more than kissing, Ditzy." Half-lidded glowing eyes opened to look up at her. Breathless, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips occupied his vision, but the fiery eyes looking back at him weren't embarrassed or even shocked by his taunt.

Her shoulders and fingers trembled slightly as she took in a deep breath, "Good."

His smile wavered for a brief instant. Either she had done this before, or beneath that kind and playful exterior, she was very intune and unashamed of her carnal desires.

"Intent on sleeping with a god," He smirked, "Most mortals can only dream of it." Especially when it concerned him. He took great pride in his position as the most fair among the Aesir, and as such, he was a prize that very few laid eyes on, and even less who had the privilege of bedding him. But this scatter-brained mortal—this lowly vixen had frustrated and vexed him more than any other person. And to say that he was eager to let loose said frustrations was an understatement. "Well then, in that case," With a quick shove, the roles were reversed, and she was pinned beneath him, "Shall we indulge ourselves?"

She discarded her top first, and he followed suit. There was a break in their feverish kissing. Her fingers left behind burning trails as she explored, her brow furrowed slightly and her gaze focussed. As if she were looking for something.

"What?" He demanded, annoyed at the absence of her lips.

"Huh," Her mouth twitched, "I'm just...I don't know, surprised I guess? Figured you would've had tattoos hiding underneath all those layers." Her fingers nearly felt like ice against his heated skin, piercing deep yet somehow as light as a feather. "Hidden from the eyes of most," She mused, hands moving lower, "Uncovered only by a select few that the Scion of the Aesir deems special enough."

"Special," He all but scoffed, though a part of him was satisfied, satisfied that he finally got an insight into those vain and selfish thoughts that remained hidden beneath that kind and soft exterior. "You would really think of yourself so highly? To me?"

There was a flicker of something in those silent eyes—confusion but also a twinge of hurt, as if he had just sliced into her needlessly. But she breathed, inhaling and exhaling slowly through her nose. "Then what are we even doing here?"

He glared. It was an answer he expected, but one that even he himself didn't have a concrete answer for. Heimdall had asked himself that question several times, over-analyzing everything in an attempt to come to an acceptable conclusion. But the more he thought, the more frustrated he became. And for once, his mind was nagging him not to think, and just act. His hand reached for the back of her neck, fingers fitting the curve and contour of the soft skin. "Just stop talking."