With the coming of spring, the storms had come down the mountain, as every year, bringing the rain.
It was mid-afternoon and the sky was a lonely malevolent grey. From your front window, you had a clear view. The wind lashed inside through the open screen door, sliced into pieces by the tiny wires and tumbling back together with a frustrated scream, like Manhattan rush traffic on a Friday. A misty dampness permeated everything, too warm to be cold, too chilled to be warm. It made you think of dark caves and swamps.
A gaunt kitty on your front porch had tucked itself under a deck chair, trying to ward off the droplets. Such a pretty cat, jet black with streaks of silver, one blue eye, one green. You wanted to bring it inside and cuddle it, stroke the fur which pointed in skewed angles until it lay smooth and flat. Kiss the tiny pink nose. Get bitten for your troubles, probably. The cat glared mistrustfully at the whole world and hunkered down further into its deck chair cave.
With nothing else to do today, you had curled into a cozy chair with a blanket and a warm beverage, reading fanfiction. It was peaceful and comfortable and you were happy.
Hours passed and the sky darkened to coal dust black lit by the purple highlights of sunset. The rain was coming down in earnest, heavy sheets, blown at times almost vertical. The porch swing was banging rhythmically against the railing, a counterpoint to the wall-shaking booms of thunder.
Kitty was still wedged into her spot, getting periodically drenched. You opened the door and called to her, but she refused to move. The cat had no collar. There was nobody you could call to retrieve it. After a few minutes, you conceded defeat and returned to your chair, sad for the kitty. You settled your head back and the storm lulled you closer and closer to sleep.
Bam! The noise of the screen door slamming against the wall had your body jacking from the chair to beat your eyes in the race to open.
Your open eyes were blinded by a flash of lightning. In the afterglow, the silhouette in the doorway was a hole ripped in space, two curved horns cutting negatives into the sky, below that, a slim figure whose trench coat was just visible at the bottom edge, where water sluiced down it, creating a single huge puddle on the floor which reflected the light of the sky. Your eyes had adjusted by the time they reached the top again, enough to see glowing eyes turned steel blue by the light of the storm.
The power had gone out on your block. Your cozy house had turned into a den of looming dark objects. You wanted to run but your joints had frozen like ice in their sockets. Loki stepped forward and grasped you by the back of the neck, pulling you into his embrace.
He touched a single finger to his lips, hushing the words you were groping for. You fell silent and acquiescent in his arms.
His arms were thin and braided tight with muscle. His hand was smooth and cold on your neck, but his torso was warm where it pressed against yours. He smelled like rotting earth, fresh and heady and sweet. The water from his drenched armour soaked instantly through the front of your clothes and even that was warm and comfortable.
His lips were thin; the lower slotted perfectly between yours. With the upper, he sucked your mouth into a precise, lingering ablution, laving the underside of your upper lip in erotic strokes from teeth to tip. He slipped further in, tongue flicking up to lick the back of your teeth, then to rub sinuously over the hard palate, finally curling around your tongue in a mind melting embrace. You licked the underside of his tongue and moaned. He tasted like he smelled, cool, sweet, a naked morning run through the forest with the undergrowth whipping into you on every side. You rubbed shamelessly against Loki, a moment more and you would cum.
He pulled back, settling lingering light kisses as he went.
"Am I dreaming?" You asked dazedly.
