Unbroken (Loki x Reader)

*Chapter 1 - Choices*

Loki's fingers trail from your cheek to your jaw, where they linger for a moment as he gazes into your eyes. Your heart pounds and your stomach flutters as his fingers begin moving once more, barely making contact with your skin. His feather-light touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps as his fingertips float down your neck and across your bare shoulder.

"In Asgard," Loki whispers, his forehead to yours. "We are taught from a young age that warriors never show their hearts until an axe reveals it." The tendrils of his breath caress your face in cool waves of mint and honey. "Yet you have managed to tear my chest open for all to see with nary a weapon, my love."

Chills creep down your spine as Loki's lips drift over your pulse. He suckles on the most sensitive part of your neck, leaving behind small bites as his hands travel to your waist. You're enjoying his attention, but you know his current affections are to distract from the conversation you've been trying to have all day.

"Loki," you sigh. "We need to talk about it."

He ignores you, and grapples with your dress. The long layers of your skirt spill over his forearm as he sneaks his hand between your thighs, teasing you with light touches. You're not exactly exposed, but his single, teasing finger is enough to make you realize with a startling burst of clarity that you're in public.

"Loki," you exhale breathlessly, reaching for his wrist playing below the skirts of your dress. "Loki wait, we can't-!"

A particularly hard bite into the flesh of your neck silences your weak objections. With the hand not playing below your skirt, Loki tips your chin up, granting him access to the rest of your neck. You lean your head back with a sigh, resting against the wall and closing your eyes - giving in and losing yourself to the pleasure of having Loki's lips and hands on your body. You can talk about Odin's choice later. Right now, you can let yourself enjoy the attention. Attention you never could have imagined you'd receive.

You still find it hard - nearly impossible - to believe that a God has chosen you. You.

A sudden clang from down the hall reverberates around the golden walls, slicing through the silence. With a startled gasp, your eyes fly open to spot a young girl standing frozen at the end of the hall.

The child, no more than seven or eight, wears a plain, brown frock that reminds you more of a potato sack than a dress. Around her waist is tied a stained apron with fraying edges. Her big, brown eyes dart back and forth between you and Loki, shocked at the sight of the two of you absconding openly in the halls of the palace. You try to take a step toward her, but Loki keeps you pinned against the wall.

"Loki, stop," you whisper. "Look."

Loki glances up, confused. He follows your gaze to the young girl down the hall. But the moment he spots her, the girl's own eyes widen in fear. She quickly looks away, dropping to her knees and grabbing desperately for a mess of silver utensils, now widely scattered across the marble floor in every direction.

Loki huffs in annoyance and returns his attention to you, snaking an arm around your waist.

"Loki, wait," you say, pushing him away and taking a step toward the small girl.

Loki catches your arm. "She's just a servant, kærasta," he says. "You're not obligated to mitigate her clumsiness," he says breathlessly, trying to hold you in place with one hand now successfully wrapped around your waist grasping gently at your ass through the flowing fabric of your dress.

But you give him another stern shove.

"Beauty lives with kindness, Loki," you scold gently, giving him a stern and slightly disappointed look. "You read those exact words to me last night. Didn't you?"