Obsession (Loki Fanfiction)

Chapter Nine:

I lye inside Chris's sleeping arms, waking to warm delicious waves of tingling sensation. My body is deliciously sore and my lips are swollen with kisses. We are tangled within one another, our limbs crossed over like vines. I trail my fingers through the smattering of golden hairs on Chris's chest, looking at him for what seemed to be the first time. It suddenly occurred to me by how beautiful Chris actually was; lean and graceful limbs, slender long fingered hands, crafted for making love. A sweet full lipped mouth, long enviously curling eyelashes several shades darker than his hair. The articulate sugar dusting of freckles from summers' past. Ageing had the opposite effect on him; it made him look younger.
I rest my head once more against his chest, listening to his heart beating loud against my ear.
Despite of how happy I am, there is a persisting nag drilling into the back of my skull. That nag is Loki.

I knew he knew that I hadn't killed Chris. I could feel him, slowly applying pressure against my brain, prodding with invisible fingers and rooting through my thoughts. It agitated me by how much Loki knew of me and how little I knew of him. I wish I had never gotten into the situation in the first place. Now I was a murderer - a cold bloody one at that - and it scared me to think that I had no idea what Loki wanted me to do next. I could always say no...and why didn't I? Deep down, I already know the answer: I don't want him to kill me.

Chris moves beneath me, sighing and muttering softly in his sleep. I steal a kiss from his lips, grinning down at him. Chris's eyes are slowly beginning to open, passing their blue - eyed gaze sleepily over me. He is smiling in an instant.
"Isobel," he greets me politely, although the humour in his eyes mistakenly gives him away.
"Christopher," I sit atop him, straddling his hips as I stroke his face with the back of my hand. He catches my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist lightly.
"You are so beautiful Isobel," he whispers. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to say that to you."
I blush - the first time I have ever done that in front of Chris. It's a first for everything.
"I love this," he reaches up to touch my cheek. "Watching you blush. It's adorable."
"Chris..." I squirm, embarrassed by my own body's reactions. Chris laughs and drags himself off the mattress. We sit aside one another before I snuggle up to his chest again.
"I'm glad it was you to have walked into my life," I tell him truthfully. "I'm glad you never gave up on me."
Chris strokes his hand along my naked spine. It feels so heavenly that I close my eyes.
"I wouldn't have given up, not when you were in America, not even when you decided to scare me half to death."
I feel his body shaking gently with laughter. I giggle and Chris kisses my forehead.
"Those dreams, the voices...they're over right?"
I open my eyes.
"Yes," I whisper, swallowing bile. "They're over."
"Thank God."
Then Chris is kissing me, causing me to forget.

***
We decide to stay in bed, wrapped up within one another until Chris eventually disentangles himself from me.
"I'n going go take a shower." A slow and effortless smiles spreads lovingly over his face. "Care to join me?"
I grin, silently giving him my response. Chris - knowing the contents of my flat inside and out - reaches into a drawer and takes out two towels.

***
The water is hot and clean as it pours over us, cleansing our skin. Chris flicks his wet hair out of his eyes, standing gloriously and purposely positioned in front of me. Our mouths slide over one another, tasting and touching as we are pressed against the shower glass. My hands slide through his dripping hair, feeling courage as he holds me against him. His hands lightly skim my thighs before grasping my waist and angling my body towards him.
"Kiss me Christopher," I ask him softly.
And he does.

***
We emerge from a steam filled bathroom, my hair still damp from the shower. I forage quickly through my drawers before pulling out a camisole and shorts. Chris wears his t-shirt and faded jeans and is blinking water from out of his eyes.
"Want some breakfast?" I ask him, the clock reading five past ten.
"Sure." Chris takes my hand. "Want me to cook? You were never the best at cooking."
I hit him lightly on the chest.
"We both know that's not true."
"Isn't it?"
"Yes," I assure him, and I stretch on my toes to kiss him.

Something clatters to the floor in the living room. I immediately pull away, straining to listen with the blood roaring in my ears. My heart rate spikes.
No.
"What was that?" Chris says, his expression darkening.
"I don't know."
"I'd better go and check. Stay here." Chris gently let's go of my hand and walks out of the room.
"Chris!" I hiss, immediately following him after.
I'm stopped dead in my tracks. Chris is pinned helplessly against someone, their arm restricting his throat. A gleam of silver passes over his throat before hovering precariously above it. A pair of green eyes stare directly into my soul. All remaining air escapes my lungs.
It was Loki, and he was holding Chris at knife point.
Shit.