Bewitched by You (A Marvel/Harry Potter Crossover) COMPLETED

Chapter Twelve: Sweet Denial

(Warning: Explicit sexual content in this chapter [if you wish to keep reading, but want to skip over the sex scene, scroll past the italicized portion of this chapter])

Bucky could feel the pull in his shoulders, even before he opened his eyes. He recognized the uncomfortable sensation immediately, thanks to the last damn time he found himself like this—or imagined he'd found himself like this, stupid dream.

As he braced himself to open his eyes and look around at whatever dismal environment his subconscious was offering up, he heard it. Moaning, delicate and feminine, and . . . familiar?

Oh, yeah; he'd heard this voice before, only never like this.

It made him not really want to open his eyes, but at the same time, also insanely curious.

Forcing a breath, he finally looked. From his place, restrained by those stupid chains, he could see the bed—it was right goddamn in front of him—large, surrounded by golden curtains, sheer and shimmering. They were held back, pinned to the bedposts on only this side, for his benefit he would've assumed, if he could focus enough to think clearly in that moment.

Hermione lay sprawled on her back, her wild hair loose around her and not a stitch of clothing on her body. Bucky recognized the head of jet-black hair moving lower against her, despite that he wished he could very much ignore that he knew who that was.

Loki . . . .

The Asgardian was just as bare as the witch beneath him—he either was unaware of their audience, or didn't mind it. He slid his skin against hers, slipping off the bed to brace his knees against the floor. Loki buried his face between her thighs, a growl-like sound rumbling out of him at the way she cried out, her delicate fingers curling in his hair.

Bucky vehemently ignored his body's reaction to the show before him. "Hermione," he said in a rushed whisper, almost as though he imagined the other male in the room somehow wouldn't hear him.

"You're awake." Her voice was oddly light and airy as she made the observation, even as she rocked her hips beneath Loki's mouth.

Loki, for his part, made how thoroughly he was enjoying himself abundantly clear—the sounds he made, suckling and lapping at her, deliberately loud. He slid one hand down, his fingers circling his cock to stroke himself idly.

Bucky couldn't seem to close his eyes to block out what he was seeing. Why couldn't force his eyes to close?

"We were worried you'd sleep through everything," she said, still in that light tone, even as her breathing hitched and her body tensed.

He couldn't think of what to say in response. She wanted him to see this?

Her hands tightening in Loki's hair, she threw her head back, a pleading moan tearing out of her as she came. Loki let out a chuckling sound from deep in the back of his throat, his head moving against her ever more vigorously, nursing her through her orgasm.

Bucky found he had to remind himself to breathe. "This . . . ? Why are you making me watch this?" he asked, his resigned whisper barely audible.

It seemed Loki ignored him, at least until Hermione relaxed beneath him, withdrawing her hands from his head. He brushed quick kisses against her hips and the insides of her thighs before he stood, turning to face the bound man.

"You are not likely to believe this," Loki said, that wicked grin on his lips as he stepped toward Bucky. "But I am merely a pawn in this particular imagining."