An unconventional trio

Stay out of my brain

Loki's POV:

As I descend into the training room, Natasha's words echo in my mind like a relentless mantra. "Nova doesn't want to be treated differently than anyone else." Her advice is sound, her wisdom undeniable. But still, I find myself grappling with conflicting desires.

The memory of our spar yesterday plays on a loop in my head, each moment etched vividly. The fire in Nova's eyes, the raw power behind her every move—it's undeniable, intoxicating even. She's strong, far stronger than she realizes. I see it, feel it in the air between us.

Yet, beneath that strength lies a vulnerability, a fragility waiting to be acknowledged. The urge to unravel her, to witness her coming undone for me in the most intimate of moments, consumes me. To peel back the layers of her carefully constructed armor, to expose the raw, unguarded truth beneath.

I can't help but yearn to see her shed the facade, to be unapologetically herself—the insecure, uncertain, achingly beautiful soul I know lies within her. And as I step into the training room, the tension between my desires and Natasha's counsel weighs heavy on my mind, a battle of wills within my very being.

As I stand there, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, a mischievous grin tugs at the corners of my lips when the distinct sound of heavy footsteps echoes down the corridor. There's no mistaking those boots against the floor—Barnes is approaching.

I hear the footsteps slow as he enters the room, his presence sending a subtle shift in the air. His voice, deep and gruff, reaches my ears like a familiar melody, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

"Loki..."

Unable to resist the opportunity to play with him, I turn to face him, the smirk on my lips betraying my amusement. "Barnes," I reply, my voice laced with equal parts sarcasm and intrigue.

I watch as James slowly strides towards me, his movements purposeful, his expression etched with a familiar hardness that speaks volumes. Irritation simmers beneath the surface, evident in the subtle furrow of his brow and the tense set of his jaw.

*Gods, that jaw could cut glass,* I can't help but think, a flicker of admiration mingled with amusement dancing behind my eyes. Despite the tension between us, there's an undeniable allure to his steely resolve, a magnetic pull that draws me in despite myself.

As he draws closer, the air crackles with unspoken tension, each step echoing like a warning in the silent space between us.

"That was a nice gift you gave her," he tells me, his tone neutral but carrying a hint of irritation, and protectiveness.

*Of course he knows,* I think, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. *Hm. Is that... jealousy I sense?*

"I'm glad she enjoyed them," I reply casually, my own voice betraying none of the amusement swirling within me.

As the rest of the group begins to filter into the room, he takes a step back from me, his expression unreadable. "We will talk about this later," he says, his words carrying a weight of authority that brooks no argument.

I nod in acknowledgment, the grin on my lips widening just slightly as I watch him retreat. I stand in the room, the air heavy with anticipation, when suddenly, a familiar scent dances its way into my awareness, wrapping around me like a silken ribbon. Cherry—sweet, intoxicating cherry—invades my senses, a tantalizing fragrance that sets my pulse racing.

I close my eyes for a moment, allowing the scent to wash over me, indulging in the memories it evokes—this room, my lips on hers. It's a scent that lingers in the corners of my mind, a constant reminder of her presence even when she's far from reach.