The Siren's Mark (Loki Romance)

Chapter Nineteen

Of all the ways that Loki imagined the night would go, this was hardly one of them. Despite his unfortunate positioning on Cerys' couch, having his body draped over hers was strangely relaxing, and he slept well.

The television was still playing softly in the background when he woke, and the sky outside was dark. A storm had begun at some point during the night, and the patter of rain against the spanning window was what woke him. Everything inside the apartment was still, save for the flickering lights, and Cerys' heavy breaths waxing and waning against his front side. Loki relaxed back against the pillow, still hovering in and out of sleep.

Mere hours ago, Cerys had practically thrown herself at him—something he hadn't dreamed would happen for some time, least of all on a night like this. And almost immediately after, she didn't want to be touched—though naturally, her actions did nothing to make that easier. The sudden appearance of her lips took him utterly by surprise, and he sighed heavily when she crawled on top of him. His hand moved of its own accord to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. All the while, he accepted her eager kiss, and relished the arousal rolling hotly through his limbs.

So there she was, and suddenly gone again—rolling back over to her side. Breaking the illusion right then and there, that she would have her way with him...just as she did the first night they were together.

Cerys stretched her limbs out gently in front of him, snapping Loki's attention back from his distanced thoughts. He blinked down as her eyelashes fluttered open, and she turned toward him.

Loki merely stared back at her. And for a brief moment, she almost looked surprised to see him in her dazed, half-sleeping state.

"Loki...?" she breathed out.

"Yes?" he whispered back.

She stared at him through lidded eyes, her face settled into an expression of rest and relaxation—more so than he'd seen in quite some time. Like she'd just slept through the longest and sweetest night of her life.

Cerys' lips quirked upward. "...good night," she murmured sweetly, shifting closer against him as she turned her back to him again.

It took a moment for Loki to realize that the movement had hitched her shirt beneath the blanket, and bare skin pressed against his forearm when he draped it over her waist. Slowly, he reached up and tugged down on the edge of the shirt, fingers brushing against her skin as he tried to pull it downward. An impulse struck when he reached the rim of her pants, and he rolled his eyes up to the back of her head.

"Cerys," Loki whispered, pulling closer as he let his hand drop down to her stomach, hovering just above the edge. "Cerys," he repeated when she moved slightly, nudging the hair away from her neck.

Her eyes barely opened when a hand immediately clamped over his—stopping his fingers brushing at the base of her abdomen, and sprawling across her smooth stomach. Her eyes opened slightly, looking a bit uncertain. And that was fine—Loki gripped her fingers, and pulled her tightly against him with their knotted hands, kissing her earnestly just below her ear. She didn't react at first, nor did she push him away, so he did it again. The second time, her head tilted backward slightly, extending her neck a bit, and the gentle sigh when he kissed her was like silk, so he kissed her again.

And again.

Her hand began to loosen, and she finally let go—tangling it through his hair, and pulling him closer against her. Each breath grew a little heavier as bumps rolled over her skin, and Loki barely gave thought to anything other than the sounds she made to his touch, and slipped his hand beneath the loose sweatpants she'd been wearing.