Temptation

Daylight....

The sun was warm on her back.  Carefully, she undid her braid. Singing softly, a tune taught to her by her mother as a little girl.

"I stormsvarte fjell, je vandre alene...."

Drawing her comb through her long dark hair, she shook it out over her shoulders. The feeling of it being released from its bands soothing to her scalp.

The market had been hot and sticky. Sweat had plastered her hair to her neck, even in its pigtail, and grime had formed on her forehead. She couldn't wait to be free of it.

Sitting on the riverbank, she deftly unlaced her pinafore. Shedding its practical sackcloth weight, she tossed it to the side. Now, just in her cotton underdress, she felt instantly cooler, more free.

The light breeze fluttered against her skin, and her body reacted, her gently rounded figure now emphasised by the peaks of her breasts.  She smiled as she followed their swell. Even now, she found it hard to contemplate that she was a woman.  She always felt like a young girl trapped in someone else's body.  In one breath naìve and innocent, in another, a sensual creature, aching for the touch of a man.

A special man. One she hadn't stopped thinking about for over a week.

As she lay on the grass, she felt the sun warm her. She raised the hem of her shift, and her legs felt warm as its rays caressed her. Like a lover. A lover? How would she know? She was mature, older even than some of the other girls who were married and had children, but she was still a virgin. She'd never wanted to give herself to a man, not until now.

Until Loki. He was a prince. He was a Jotun, and he was bad news. But he was as hot as hell and twice as sinful. 

Closing her eyes, alone with her thoughts, she let her fingers run up her thigh. Tracing delicate patterns on her skin, she let them brush against her most intimate area. A slight gasp escaped her lips, and she moved a little to get more comfortable.

One hand smoothed the fabric of her shift against her breast. Its firm globe filling her small hand as she squeezed gently.  Her mind saw his long, elegant fingers encircle her flesh and squeeze.

She felt his lips ghost her neck as his teeth nipped her skin. Arching her back, she dipped her hand between her thighs.  Warm and moist, her lower lips enveloped her fingers eagerly.  Her body began to throb. She knew that it wouldn't take much to send her crashing over the edge.

Glancing around to make sure she was still alone, she sat up and cast off her cotton shift. Now, the feeling of the fresh air and the sun beating on her naked body sent her desire spiralling.  Only the thought of him, her lover, her prince, could satisfy her.

Her hand made short work of her frustrations, and she soon shuddered and moaned her way to Valhalla. 

Lying on the sweet grass, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up into the blue sky. A raven flew overhead and she smiled. At least no human eyes had yet seen her undoing. Birds didn't count.

Sitting up, she looked at her fingers, the evidence of her fantasy still apparent.  One day.  One day it would not be her fingers. One day it would be noone's FINGERS.

As she stood and walked down the bank into the river to bathe, she smiled to herself.  At least dreams were just that. Dreams. No harm done. No commitment made. No hurt when that commitment wasnt returned. If only she could show him that not everyone despised him. 

If only he could see that she was worth changing for.  But he wouldn't change, would he. And he wouldn't want someone like her so what was the point.  Fantasy it would remain.

Loki took his hand away from his mouth. The impression of his bite mark fresh on his leather glove.  The salty dampness in his breeches fresh inside the leather.

He let out a silent but strained breath. It had been the hardest - quite literally - the hardest thing he had ever endured.

When he'd decided to come riding alone that afternoon, he'd wanted and expected peace.

Jotunheim had been yet another peace keeping mission. Thor had yet again flexed his muscles and Laufey had yet again been magnanimous. Would the circus never stop?

Now Thor was back on Midgard, Odin was holding court over some Vanaheim issues and he? He was, for the moment, free. He'd wandered the market, but neither she nor her Uncle - he'd made enquiries - were there.

Disappointed, he'd refused the offers of his usual female companions and gone riding. Somehow their painted staleness no longer satisfied him.  Somehow? Who was he kidding. He knew exactly why and who would.

He'd heard her gentle singing before he'd seen her. Dismounting, he'd tied up his stallion and walked on quietly. He'd been overjoyed to discover her sitting combing her hair on the riverbank.  The girl. The fruitseller.

Silently, he'd waited. Having missed his chance to avoid terrifying her, he now had to wait and hope. Hope she didnt change her mind. Hope she... oh dear Gods. He felt the air rush from his lungs as she took off her dress.

The slip she wore, of basest cotton, was virtually seethrough from her own perspiration. With her back to him, he could see the form of her waist. The curve of her behind. His mind filled in the blanks as she caressed her breasts out of his sight.

As she lay back, hitching up the hem, he'd bitten into his riding glove. In one thought, he knew he should leave. This was her own private moment.  But to move now would risk discovery. And anyway, he really REALLY wanted to watch.

So watch he did.  As she lifted the dress. As she stroked her thighs. Now she lay where he could see everything. His own trousers now bound him tightly. Almost painfully.

His breath became short and ragged and, when she removed her dress altogether, he almost shamed himself there and then.  Gritting his teeth, he watched and listened to her pant and moan her way through her ecstasy, her body writhing at her own soft touch. 

Who.was she thinking of? Who was the he - or perhaps she - that made her want to cry out so? He could only fantasise it was him. But why would it be? She didn't know him. Like all the rest, she probably hated him. 

As he watched her tip into oblivion, he could hold back no longer and joined her in her moment of joy. His would be an easy fix. A little magic, clean breeches and nobody would be any the wiser.

Him? He would know. He would always know. Well. Almost. The one thing he really wanted to know? What she felt like. What she tasted like.  What she sounded like as he - and only he - took her to Valhalla.

As he watched her swim in the cool clear water, he snuck away. One day, one day he would make good on his fantasy. He hoped it would be hers too.