Loki's Kitten

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Visitor

Day in, day out, your world continues to seem dull and dreary. The rain continues, sapping your energy and dampening your spirits. You are so tired, so ready to block out all the harsh realities of your existence, that you lay down on your bed, fully clothed, and close your eyes.

You soon fall into a light sleep but a sudden brightness in the room disturbs you. Not a flash, more like a pulse of energy. You open your eyes and raise yourself on your elbows, looking towards the door. You blink. What you think you see is Loki, God of Mischief, Son of Odin, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. You realise this is ludicrous and assume you are still asleep, or delirious, so lay back on your pillow and shut your eyes once more.

Your hear a faint rustling and can still detect a change in the room, so you try to clear your head and sit back up. He is still there. Taller than you imagined, stronger, more imposing. He is wearing fine Asgardian leather, complete with his coat, cloak and crown. You feel a tangible sense of awe at his presence.

You try to come to terms with the fact that this may, in some measure, be real, and follow his eyes as they scan around the room. Shit. The place is a tip. A picture of sloppy Midgardian mundanity. There are piles of clothes, towels in a heap, drawers laying open and shoes strewn across the floor. You had never for a moment dared to dream that you would ever be in the same space, the same reality, the same room as Loki. But if you had, this would not have been it.

The rustling noise continues as he causally picks through objects on your dressing table. Whether he is fascinated by them, bored, or trying to gain some sort of sense of you, you cannot tell. He picks up a necklace. It was given to you by a friend and simply has the word 'strong' affixed onto a thin silver chain. He looks up and meets your eyes, tilting his head and slightly raising one eyebrow. You hold his intense gaze for a moment before lowering your eyes with a slight smile. Are you strong enough for Loki? Dear God, you hope so.

You are caught somewhere between fantasy and reality and, for the briefest moment, consider attempting to tidy the room. You look back to Loki as he makes a gesture with his left hand and there is an instant emerald flash across his eyes. The room darkens then is filled with soft lamp light and pale rays flooding through the window. As you look, the familiar view has been replaced by a beautiful twilight falling over sweeping hills and a babbling river.

It is still your room, but the furniture is finer. The bed is bigger, with four intricately carved wooden posts and soft, clean sheets, scattered with cushions and pillows. The transformation is so astonishing you almost forget the cause of it, and consider how out of place you now must seem in your worn jeans and t-shirt. But as you look down, you see that Loki's tricks were not only limited to your environment. You kneel on the bed, sitting on your heels and see that you are wearing a light black robe, so delicate that your body can clearly be seen underneath. It has a deep 'v' at your neck and is gathered by a row of pearl buttons at your waist. The skirt is long and flowing but entirely open at the front. There is nothing covering the black lace and satin knickers which are secured in place with two ribbon bows at your hips. The gathered waist gives your body an alluring hourglass shape, and you are briefly distracted by the beauty of your own form, noticing your full breasts, cupped delicately in the flimsy fabric.

You come to your senses and try to accept that Loki is, in fact, in this room with you, here and now. You rise from the bed tentatively and walk slowly towards him. He lowers his chin to look directly at you, but you can't read his face. Curiosity? Amusement? Does he appreciate your form dressed in this way? After all, it was of his choosing, was it not?

You find your voice. "Loki – why are you here?" Now his face softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as he steps towards you.

"Do you think I have not heard you call to me? Have you forgotten all the times you have whispered and moaned my name, begging me to come, to touch you, to make you mine?"