Demons

My Happily Ever After

It's been 10 days since I tried to commit suicide off of Stark tower, and 3 days since I last spoke to my father. I haven't left Loki's chambers, instead choosing to read or just browse Netflix. (I was getting restless during my first night here, and I couldn't sleep. Loki mumbled something I couldn't understand, waving his hand at the wall, and suddenly there was a screen. It's not a television, exactly, but it's really cool. There's surround-sound that comes with it, even though there aren't any speakers, the volume automatically adjusts itself, and the screen can shrink down to the size of an iPad and become portable. It's awesome.) So really, I haven't had any reason to leave.

Loki was going to be sentenced to living in the dungeons, but Thor and Frigga protested so much after seeing how happy Loki is with me, that Loki gets a second chance. After all, Thor went to Jotunheim a while back, and he got a second chance after killing some of the Frost Giants. Loki just has to prove that he's changed for the good, so right now he's doing the Asgardian-equivalent of public service projects. You know, capturing barbarians, driving out the occasional Bilgesnipe, weeding the royal gardens. The last one wouldn't be so bad, but for the gardening part, he's not allowed to use magic.

Loki goes out early every morning, returning late in the evening, sore and bruised. He has two months left of this.

Glancing at my watch, it's almost 10:30 PM. Loki will be home any minute. Sure enough, within seconds there's a click at the wooden door, and it's pushed open by an exceptionally battered-looking Loki. (Still sexy as all hell, mind you.)

"You wouldn't believe the day I've had," he sighs, collapsing on a bench to pull off his boots.

"What did they have you do? Not the gardens again."

Loki chuckles. "Unfortunately, yes, the gardens, again."

I frown at him. "You poor thing, you must be so sore."

Loki rolls his eyes.

"No, I mean it..." My eyes light up. "Come over here, and I'll give you a massage."

He looks up warily. "A what."

"A massage. Don't you have those here?"

"We use magic..." he's grumbling slightly, but I can tell he's interested.

"Right. Take your..." he's wearing a lot of clothing that I don't even know how to describe, it's like formal gardening-wear. He's also wearing dark green, fingerless leather gloves that go halfway up his forearms. Those gloves. I want him to do terrible things to me, wearing nothing but his boots and those gloves. And maybe his helmet... "Take your... um, shirt, off."

Loki smiles, that little half-smile he only does for me. Where his mouth sort of twitches and his eyes twinkle. It's cute. He obediently stands before me, barefoot and shirtless, with his leather pants and those gloves. "The gloves, too," I say reluctantly. He complies. "I want you to come over here and lie on the bed," I murmur, in the way one would quietly speak in an art gallery. Because he's beautiful, he really is.

He lies facedown on the bed, turning his head to look at me. He has a look in his eyes with so much love, so much trust, it almost physically hurts me.

I crawl over to straddle him, my hips over his, and he lets out a very quiet moan. I grin. "I haven't even started yet."

Loki doesn't say anything, he just completely relaxes beneath me, as if he now feels perfectly safe, with me, like this.

I run my fingers up his back, relishing the way he shivers at my touch. I then begin slowly rubbing his shoulders, digging my fingertips in. He sighs. "Sage..." he utters with a rough voice. I make sure his shoulders are loosened up, before working my way across his back, massaging my way down to his hips, the slight (adorable) dimples at the bottom of his spine. He's got muscle. Not completely bulky, like Thor, but just the right amount. I love cuddling up with him at night, the way he protectively wraps his arms around me tightly. And we never overheat, either. Frost Giants are good for cuddling on a hot summer day.

After I'm finished massaging him, I lightly run my fingernails across his back, and he arches into it, like a cat. Loki has a thing for having his back scratched... sometimes just lightly, through his shirt, but sometimes more heavily, enough to draw blood (which happens by accident sometimes, but he loves making me lose control of what I'm doing when he's making love to me. It's like a goal for him).

He rolls over, letting me topple off of him. "I can't resist you," he pants, crawling on top of me and tenderly kissing me, until I have to pull away for breath. "You're all I could think about today, you're what kept me going, what always keeps me going."

He puts his forehead against mine, winks with a grin, then snaps his fingers. All of our clothing disappears. He intertwines our fingers with one of his hands, using the other to hold himself off of the mattress. He nudges my legs apart with one of his knees, and checks that I'm ready before rolling his hips forward.

·•·

It's later that night, and I awake sweating and shaking, wanting to scream, but unable to use my voice. I scramble out of bed and into the bathroom, curling up in a ball, hugging my knees, sobbing and shaking.

I hear Loki flick the lights on in our room, pull on a robe, and run to the bathroom door, which I've bolted shut. Loki tries the door, finds it locked, and without missing a beat he uses magic to open it. He goes to touch me but I flinch away.

"Please, no, please don't hurt me-" I'm struggling to breathe, I can't see anyone but him and his friends, I thought I'd forgotten them. "I'll do anything." I'm sobbing, it's real, all of it's real, I never told anyone, but it's happening now. I'm suddenly twelve again, I can't escape him-

"Sage Rowena Stark, look at me. I'm not going to touch you. No one else is here. It's just me. Please, listen to me, you just need to breathe."

The fog is clearing, and no, I'm not on earth all of those years ago, I'm on Asgard, I'm with Loki. Who loves me. Who will do anything he can to protect me. But he doesn't know...

I'm not hallucinating anymore, but I'm sobbing. Loki seems to notice a change in my posture, how I'm not cowering, or trying to hide, but rather I've just collapsed, I don't even care anymore.

He scoops me up as if I weigh nothing. The covers on our bed magic themselves back, and he lays me down gently, pulling off his robe and climbing into bed next to me, pulling the covers over us again, and holding me close. I bury my face in my pillow, and he wraps me up in his embrace. I fitfully fall asleep once more.