Heaven Sent (Loki/Asgard Fanfiction - Aislinn's Story)

Chapter Eighty-One

Wind rustled through the trees, in from the terrace and Aislinn rose onto her elbow to gaze down at Steve. He was asleep, and in his relaxed state, she could almost picture him as the overeager fifteen year old who thought he'd lose his virginity to an older woman. Despite his assurances to the contrary, he had to have been a drop-dead gorgeous boy by then. How could he be anything but? All the pictures she'd seen of him made her wish she'd known him then as well.

"You see the pictures I've kept. Trust me, they aren't all good ones and I certainly didn't always look like I do now. Not when my face was a mess of zits and I weighed two-hundred and fifty pounds, I wasn't. I was a freak, Ash. A short, fat, pizza-faced freak. And everyone made damn sure I knew it."

That was how he saw himself and she wondered how much of that still lingered in the back of his mind. It explained how a guy as hot as he was wasn't at all arrogant or a braggart, like Jake. Explained why he sometimes seemed so amazed that she loved him, that she wanted him, that she was his no matter what. That sense of entitlement came from a lifetime of being told how perfect you are, a lifetime of always being the boy girls chased—like Andreas.

But if Steve was to be believed, girls didn't even notice him until he was nearly a man. Hard to believe now, but she knew he wasn't lying. His mother had shown her pictures of Steve from his early teen years. Of course, he wasn't quite the horror he tried to convince her he'd been. He was heavy. He did go through a period where he battled terrible skin. And his mother confirmed he didn't have a girlfriend until his senior year of high school.

The soft light from the bathing chamber burnished his olive skin, glinted along his dark hair. Without thinking, she traced along the rough curve of his cheek, along his jaw. His skin was sandpapery with whiskers he'd need to shave in the morning.

He sighed in his sleep, turning into her caress. "Ash..."

She smiled. "My love."

"My girl," he murmured thickly. "My... wife..."

"Always your wife, Steve."

"Always."

She bit back a laugh. Sometimes, when he'd gone to sleep before her and sleep evaded her for whatever reason, she amused herself by whispering things to him, just to see what he'd mumble. Usually he made little to no sense, but sometimes, like now, his words made her smile or made her feel warm inside.

He rolled onto his side, his arm draping over her hips as he mumbled, "My beautiful wife..."

"Who loves you so very much."

"Never felt like this about anyone... just my Ash..."

"And you will forgive her for waking you now, but there's something she wants to share with you."

"Share everything with her... Everything. No secrets."

"Steve," she gave him a gentle shake, "wake up, love."

"What's the matter, baby?" he murmured, his eyelids slowly rising. "Something wrong with Chris?"

"No. He's fine." She gently inched away from him, sliding to the edge of the bed. "But I want to show you something and we have to see it at night."

He reached up to rub his eyes with one hand, letting it fall away to squint at her. "What's going on, Ash? What time is it?"

"It's almost two in the morning. Trust me, you'll like this."

He groaned, flopping onto his back. "Does it involve me getting to see you naked again?"

"Would it make a difference if I said yes?"