The Heat of the Snow // A Loki Fanfiction

Chapter 5

Warning: sexual content ;) Enjoy!

Loki closes the door behind him and takes a deep breath as his thoughts run wild. In all the years that he's been alive, he's never been more intrigued about a person. What is it about her?

It can't just be your delicate beauty, even though that's definitely playing a large part in his interest. But there's a lot more to it than that. The way you see the world you live in. The way your eyes focus, narrowing on particular things as if trying to figure out a tricky puzzle. It's how you looked at him too.

Ironically, you're the enigma to him—your face on repeat inside his brain. Loki hasn't experienced anything like it. She's interesting, that's all. An interesting girl in an isolated land...who happens to think similarly to me about certain things. Yes, that's all there is to it. A fixation, not unlike ones he's had before—though admittedly slightly more intense than he's used to.

The cabin is quiet now, almost quiet enough to hear the sound of the snow tumbling onto the roof. It really is a pretty place to escape the rest of the world—any world. And the only thing it needs now is for the air inside to be slightly warmer.

With a sigh, Loki pulls open the wood-burning stove and surveys the situation. How hard could it be? He has the logs, he has the matches, he has the stack of newspaper that Stefan showed him should be crumpled into little balls, page by page. Simple. Right?

To his relief, it only takes him a couple of tries before the flames take hold, swirling their red heat around the crossed logs before disappearing up the metal chimney. The heat immediately starts to fill the room, making him shudder. He hadn't realised how cold it actually was.

While waiting for the room to get to a good temperature, Loki explores the rest of the space, discovering a large basket in the kitchenette, full of further dry provisions and a few bottles of drink. "Not bad," he says, turning over a nice-looking red wine.

After fishing a glass from a cabinet, he uncorks the bottle and pours some out—the scent of vanilla and red currents filling his nose and immediately making him think of you again.

More specifically: how your lips might taste after you took a sip.

Loki licks his own involuntarily before taking a gulp, and the liquid flows over his tongue and down his throat, momentarily clearing his mind. I need to concentrate. I've been here for less than 24 hours and already I'm becoming consumed by something. It's not like he's a stranger to obsessions. The need to take and make something his. He's used to feeling like that. Sure, this time, it happens to be a girl...but the principles are just the same.

Clutching his glass, Loki grabs the bottle and heads inside the igloo. There must be some kind of heat across the surface, because despite the settling snow outside, as soon as it touches the glass, the flakes melt—allowing a full view of the sky and the swirling flurries above. He places the glass and bottle on the bedside table before reaching for his bag and undressing quickly.

Tonight would be the first night without magic, and that meant he'd have to do everything manually—which is fine, he could do that. Lots of people couldn't command magic in Asgard and they coped fine. Again, how hard could it be?

After several attempts at trying to get the shower to give out hot water, Loki gives up and settles for cold instead. And by the time he's finished, he's once again freezing, his fingers shaking as he fumbles for the towel hanging up by the bathroom door. This can't be right. If mortals can command the simple task of showering, then it's clear—this shower must be broken. I'll have to tell Stefan. Then he gets a thought and smirks to himself. Or maybe Y/N can help me...