Obsession (Loki Fanfiction)

Chapter One:

I will be the first man to kiss you...

...to bed you...

...whether you come willingly or not you will be mine, and mine alone.

Do you understand?

I open my eyes to darkness. For a moment his voice lingers within my ear, soft as the mouth which kisses my skin before disappearing completely. Only for him to have him return to me tomorrow night. My hand immediately flutters to my neck. The remainder of his lips against my throat warms my cheeks. This time his touch had felt intimate. It had become personal. His voice had been against my ear. Each word he had spoken had been dark, sensual and raw. I had wanted it. I wanted him. I hadn't known when it had started. I didn't know when it would end. Except he appeared before me in my dreams. The man with no face. Only his breathless whisper and sweet caress hinted on his identity. An identity that still remained unknown.

No longer able to sleep, I climb out of bed and pad barefooted into the kitchen. I glance at the clock which hangs on the wall. It's quarter past five. I make myself a cup of tea, taking the steaming cup inside my fingers before opening the doors to the balcony. I step out into a cool and clear Monday morning as daylight peeks from beneath the skyline. Silhouettes of London's iconic features rise from behind tall building blocks. At this time the city was just beginning to shake itself from sleep. It's this time I think about my dream. I raise the cup to my lips and take a sip. She would want to know. If I told her that I had still been receiving the dream she would consider placing me on medication again. The last prescription of drugs hadn't been successful of removing my dream. Instead they had only made them stronger, more frequent, and now tonight's dream had felt more intimate than before. It had wakened something within me. Do I tell her I liked it?

It is six o'clock when I return inside the flat, placing my teacup on the side before slipping into the bathroom to take a shower. The water runs off my skin and his touch is emblazoned on my throat. I run my fingers over my neck, closing my eyes to the words which I am all too familiar with. I dress promptly in a skirt and a clean white blouse, teasing my hair into a ponytail before slipping on some comfortable shoes and closing the door to the flat behind me. The morning feels pleasant against my skin and the backlog of London activity and murmuring voices drifts to the back of my mind. I am more occupied by what I am going to say to my therapist. She isn't the easiest women to turn a blind eye. She will suspect my lies. Luckily, the walk is short and I quickly fall upon the sleek modern building with the gold plaque inscribed next to the door. I can't hesitate any longer. Taking a deep breath, I turn the brass rounded handle and step inside.