Ice Maiden (A Loki Fanfic)

Walls

He was enjoying this. Normally, Midgardian women were weak in the face of his charms and normally he was bored within minutes, it was too easy.

This one however, was different. She had fought him. Every single day for the last six months. Her mind was closed but she was fascinating, and fascinated it seemed, in equal measure. She had a sharp intellect, one to challenge his own he thought, and a keen mind for cyphers and language. Despite her animosity, she had become invaluable to him in his quest to track down Hydra agents. They worked well together, but she simply would not allow him near either mentally or physically, if she could help it.

He was intrigued.

She was pretty, very pretty. But that wasn't it. She wasn't a stick insect like most of these Midgardians, she was womanly and inviting. That wasn't it though. She was petite, barely 5', especially compared to his 6'2" but that wasn't it either. Her eyes were defiant pools of blue green anger and THAT was it. He wanted to know why. Why the continual resistance, even down to accepting a cup of coffee, over the last few months? Why the anger and why oh why, was he so bothered.

Since that fateful day in New York - several years ago now - he'd encountered ongoing suspicion and outright hostility. He could deal with both. He really didn't care much what the majority on Midgard - he refused to call it Earth - thought of him. Those who knew him, knew. Those who didn't and still judged him? To Helheim with them. This was different. He found himself thinking of her at the most odd times, wondering what made her tick. Sometimes just wondering.....

He'd been 'rescued' they said, he wasn't himself they said and to be honest he had to agree. The Dark Order had been impossible to resist in his loneliness and the torture, well the less said - or thought - about that the better. He really didn't do regret, but he had tried to make amends, a bit like that odd soldier that had started to hang about with Rogers and Wilson looking all broody and melodramatic.

He'd joined their little Boy Band. Signed up to fight alongside his brother Thor and his friends. Indeed, with the exception of Fury, who was basically suspicious of anything that moved, they had come to some kind of truce, you might call it a kind of friendship even. He fought with them against Hydra, proving his worth again and again. Using his network of spies, he managed to get intelligence and codes so they could monitor transmissions. It was a balancing act, allow Hydra enough freedom and they would communicate with less care. Eventually he hoped, for them to be hoisted by their own petard, to quote the Midgardians.

So why did it still bother him that she seemingly hated him enough to go to the effort of continually shutting him out? He couldn't quite put his pale, elegant, finger on it. Although, to his growing consternation, he realised he very much wanted to put his pale, elegant, fingers on her. All over her. Repeatedly.

This drove him on to more outrageous behaviour than even he would normally have dared. He came and stood over her as she sat at her desk. Leaning down, a hand on either side of her as he leaned in, he whispered into her ear. His face mere millimetres away from her. He could smell her perfume, subtle but addictive. He lifted a hand and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she didn't flinch just stared as if he had slapped her. He smiled, aware of what that did to her in the nanoseconds before her wall appeared. As he spoke, his breath danced over her neck and she swallowed as she built it. He could see and he could feel, if not her thoughts, at least her inner turmoil. Her mind may be closed like a trap, her face a mask, but her body disobeyed and gave her away.

"Hello Pet, I think I have something you want" he almost growled, finding himself desperately wanting to kiss her. Slowly, carefully, tasting every atom of her. Normally he just took what he wanted but with this one, he wanted her to come willingly. As an equal. What in Helheim was happening to him? On more than one occasion he almost had given in, like today, but again she'd closed her eyes and spoken with a voice of almost pure venom.

"Give me the transmission PRINCE Loki", she opened her eyes, composed once again, adding in almost a hiss "please". He recoiled internally at the sarcasm dripping from the word Prince, but it just added fuel to his already growing fire. A wildcat? They could be tamed too. Hopefully.

She'd had to close her eyes, she couldn't resist much longer. His proximity was intoxicating. The scent of mint and leather and something more primal, sent her senses into freefall. His eyes, framed by those long dark lashes, seemed to see into her soul. Green fire burned within them, intense and mesmerising. Try as she might, despite all the anger and resentment, she couldn't look away. He was simply quite the most beautiful man - sorry, God - she had ever seen. Black hair falling to his shoulders, Cheekbones you could cut yourself on and a smile to die for. Tall, broad shouldered and, she assumed, perfectly formed under that black Gucci suit. She had to stop herself wondering what he would look like without it. With a complexion that screamed SPF100, he was chiselled from the finest marble.

As he walked slowly towards her, a knowing smile spread across his face she knew he recognised the depth of her discomfort. In the core of her being she wanted him, desperately. She may hate him for what he did, her mind steadfastly keeping him at arm's length, but her body responded on the most intense level to his very presence in the room.

She was glad of her suit jacket covering her hardening nipples and the desk, allowing her to press her thighs together trying to relieve the burning fire deep within. Her mind wandered and with an electric shock to places so deep it was visceral, she could see them lying together. His hands on her, his mouth, his body... dear God STOP IT! she thought. A vision so vivid she was almost sure he put it there, not so much a daydream as a premonition. One she was determined not to fulfil, she was NOT going to be another notch on his bedpost. Even without the added incentive to hate him, she wouldn't just fall into his arms and his bed. Emotional commitment was NOT in his vocabulary. Loki had a reputation as long as... well she wasn't going to even go there.

She kept repeating "brick wall , brick wall" in her mind. The others had warned her when she first transferred to the cypher unit, he could not only read transmissions, he could read minds. She wanted him nowhere near hers. He leaned across the desk at her, his face close to hers, his breath on her neck. He pushed the hair back out of her face and she almost came undone at his touch. Panic rose in her at this most basic reaction and she stared, wide eyed at him not daring to move or speak till she was in control.

"Hello Pet, I think I have something you want", his low throaty growl hit her like a freight train and she felt herself grow weak just listening to him. It would take every ounce of self restraint not to turn and kiss those inviting lips, grab fistfuls of that raven hair, so she closed her eyes.

Swallowing slowly and breathing deeply, she said,

"Give me the transmission PRINCE Loki - please."

It had come out more bitter than she actually intended and instantly a tiny part of her was sorry. This was personal, very personal, but really he had no idea. This had been war. This had been death and destruction and the end of everything she knew. She had fought hard to get to where she was now, and HE wasn't going to waltz in and act like nothing happened. She couldn't make him pay, he'd faced justice and done his time, but she didn't have to like it. And she wouldn't pretend that she did.