Loki's fall (sequel to loss and Loki)

Even Shooter Grows Tired

A/N: TW: mentions of self harm later in the chapter (also mentions puke 😶)
I love u all bbys and pls don't read from between the asterisks if this troubles you
Ur all loved and I promise it gets better ❤️

"I have to go."

I turned my head to the side, fastening the straps of my bra together whilst trying hard not to show how much I was struggling with them. I raised my eyebrow at Loki after he'd spoken, seeing him lever himself up from the bed, as I forced my eyes away from his exposed, muscled chest to meet his masked gaze.

"Is that relative to.. leaving the room? Or the house? Or the country? Or dare I say...the "realm" or whatever you poncy fucks call it." I muttered, slightly conscious to the fact that I was rambling and also to the fact that Loki had moved close behind me, drifting his cool fingertips over the span of my nape and upper back.

He caught my wrists and gently pulled them away from my back, replacing them with his own as he fastened they clasp with a lot swifter accuracy than my fumbling attempts. Fuck him. I'd been wearing bras since the ripe age of ten years old and he was suddenly able to fasten them quicker than I could. Did women even wear bras on Asgard?

"I have to go back to Asgard." He uttered coolly, resuming his tracing patterns on the curve of my back as I pulled on a pair of satiny material shorts that weren't in the least bit any more modest than if I were to parade around in naught but my underwear.

"For a short while, hopefully no longer than an hour or two." He spoke quietly, practically sewing the words into the skin of my neck as his jaw grazed the side of my head and my neck prickled with goosebumps again. I took in a deep breath and brushed my thumb against the marred skin of my palm.

"So eager to get back to your prison cell?" I muttered dryly with a smirk, and there was a cool breeze of air that danced across my skin as he chuckled lowly into the crook of my neck, manoeuvring himself around me to get off the bed. As he left I felt the air that surrounded me tighten with unspoken tension and I bit my lip as it became cold, colder than my comfortable coolness pressed against him.

"Clearly I've neglected to inform you of my recent position in Asgard." He spoke silkily, the undertones of a varying amusement lining every melodic bass note of his rumbling diction as he cut through the fragile body of silence that ran tensed, icy blades through our bodies like we were limp rag dolls strung up for its pleasure.

He turned back to me as a green glowing apparition scraped over his form, coating his body in a green and gold, leather clad armour that looked similar to the one he'd worn during his time in New York and on the helicarrier.

Unwanted memories picked at my mind with razor sharp nails of scalding metal and I clenched my jaw forcibly, clearing my mind so as not to give them what they so desperately wanted.
Now was not the time for nostalgia.

"I rule over the people of Asgard." He announced with a certain pride, but whatever pride it had elicited, it had been eroded somewhat by a flash of regrettable concern that was only dimmed by the glittering devilish mischief that seemed all the more vibrant in the dimming light of the golden sunset.

"Poor them." I shrugged, amused, feeling a shiver roll down my spine at the blackened smirk that had crawled onto his face as he observed me. A low, dark laugh escaped his mouth as he smoothed down his raven hair in the mirror and turned back to me, a knowing gleam in his eye.

"If I'm not back after two hours, either Surtur has finally brought ragnarok upon us, or Thor's back." He spoke as I pulled on one of my band t shirts and frowned. One of those things made zero sense to me, so of course I focused on the one thing I could happily understand.