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A cold front was settling in Tønsberg, a sure sign of the coming winter, but you were positively steaming.

You were laying naked on the sofa, panting, catching your breath. Your skin was on fire from flush and exertion. It felt like your muscles and your bones had betrayed you, left you for another plane of existence. You were rendered as useless as human-shaped jello. Ecstasy-flavored jello, was the only stupid, meaningless thought you could conjure, laying there in the afterglow.

Loki pulled his long, elegant fingers from inside of you, kissed your stomach, and leaned over to the low table. He grabbed a piece of chalk and marked a diagonal line over four vertical hatches. There were already several clusters of these hatch marks mapped out on the dark wood - a tally of your weekend's efforts. One mark for every time he managed to conjure sweet satisfaction in you.

It had started as a challenge, a dare, a little game to play over the weekend - how many times he could make you come, and how many times you could take it. Neither of you was backing down. Neither of you were ready to bow out.

"Shall we give it a go on the floor darling? I don't think we've done it there yet," he said to you, somehow hunger still in his eyes.

"I - I don't think I can move from this spot," you replied breathlessly, shakily.

He leaned over you again, his lips slightly turned up at the edges in a self-satisfied expression. Loki wrapped his arms around you and scooped you up. He held you against his body, pressed against his chest, his mass supporting your only semi-solid frame. You felt like you fit perfectly, like this was the one spot in the entire universe meant just for you.

His scent was intoxicating - leather and soft earth and spices and and the warm singe of magic. You could smell it so strongly in the crook of his neck, and you wanted to bottle it up and keep it with you so that you could always return to the feeling of being here in his arms. You could smell him, smell his magic so intensely lately. You sometimes felt as if it lingered on you, followed you around.

"We've already done the floor," you said dreamily.

"Oh?" Said your lover, "Then where should I enjoy you next?"

"Here," you said, reaching up to gently kiss him, "You can have me here."

Loki pressed arms into you and kissed you firmly, hungrily. He slid his hands down to your hips and dug his thumbs in, taking purchase there, taking control, lean fingers digging into the cheeks of your ass. As you locked lips, he rolled his lap into the space between your legs creating friction between you and the soft pants he had on. His kisses were sloppy and animalistic as his bulge grew and stiffened. His desire for you was beyond wanting and was verging towards needing. You were more than happy to be the indulgence he craved

He freed his erection from his pants and pulled you down onto it, slowly, savoring it. You were still soft and eager from your last orgasm, only moments in the past. You loved the feeling of his robust length inside of you, but this time the feeling was heightened, like it was electrically charged. Hyper sensitive bolts of sensation shot up your spine in sharp waves. You leaned back and moaned in reaction. He pushed you up and pulled you down again, over and over around his firmness, urged on by your apparent reaction. The sensation grew with the repeated thrusts. You felt like a piston firing and it was starting to consume your senses. You tried to focus on Loki's solid, thrusting mass, and on his hooded, hungry, intoxicated expression.

"The bookshelf," you panted, "You haven't had me against the bookshelf."

The next time he pulled you up, he rose with you, fingers digging into your tender upper thighs, sending sparks through your legs. He bridged the short gap between the sofa and the book shelf and pressed you against it with a force that threatened to send several tomes flying. You were wedged in between him and the furniture, but the pain of the books digging into your back was grounding you to the moment - fighting this new voltaic sensation.

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