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“You’re whining again, my love,” Loki’s pale face smirks at you from between your thighs.
“I have to, Loki. It’s torture. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Oh, love,” he tuts, “this is far from torture. And it doesn’t matter if you can’t do it anymore. All that matters is you will do it.” The authority embedded in his silky voice is unmistakable.
He’s right, you would, simply because he asked it of you, but you couldn’t help whining with every ruined orgasm. You’d lost count of the times he’d dragged you to your peak, but stopped just short of the edge, never letting you fall over. You knew he would eventually, and it would be magnificent, but the wait was torment.
He’s dragging his limber tongue through your slit again, your cunt clenching around nothing. He circles your clit and you whimper, because you can already feel the tightness forming in your abdomen.
Your hips shake with each flick of his tongue over the sensitive little bud. The longer his tongue works the more you buck your hips against him. He presses an inhumanly strong hand over your pelvis to still you.
“That won’t get you anywhere,” he chuckles against your folds.
“I know, I know” you whine. “I’m not doing it on purpose.
“But you are. At least a little. Are you not?”
Damn him. Nothing gets by him. “A little,” you pout.
He smiles at you graciously. Like he’s about to do you a favor. Like he’s going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.
Except, no matter the offer, Loki’s in charge, and refusal is not an option.
“I will deny you three more times,” he holds up three elegantly long fingers, wiggles them, then slips them into your pussy, “if you can be a good girl all three times, I will let you come on my cock. Does this please you, my love?”
And because there’s no other answer you can possibly give, “Yes. Please Loki.”
“Beg all you’d like, love, I do enjoy it so, but bargaining time is over.” At that the fingers he has inside you start to move.
At first it’s languid pushes and pulls, but he ratchets up his pace every time you say please—he really does love it when you beg. His deft fingers know the inside of your pussy better than even you do, and he’s got you teetering right on the precipice frighteningly fast. In the split second before you tip over, he gently withdraws his fingers, and you whimper as the high skates away from you yet again.
“One,” he purrs. You’re doing so well, my love.” His paise warms you from the inside as his gentle fingers wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes.
He pushes your thighs apart so he can drag his tongue through your folds, and suck at your sensitive clit. Your high-pitched keening is music to his ears as he spreads you open with his thumbs and lavishes attention on your throbbing cunt. Your hands tighten into fists at your sides as the coil in your abdomen pulls tight. Just before it can snap his tongue slips from your clit, and the climax it teased evaporates.
“Darling, I love you so much,” he coos, and kisses your damp forehead, his chin shining with your juices. “Two,” he counts off. “Just one more time. I promise,” he reminds you through the haze of your frustration. “I’m afraid this one will be the most difficult.”
It always was.
“You know what I expect of you?” he inquires.
You nod. The final time he expects you to stop him. If you slipped, or cheated, put so much as a pinky toe over the precipice, he would spend days edging you. If you try to play it safe, stopping well short of that line, he would make you come over and over again, far past the point where every nerve ending in your body felt stripped, used, and raw.
You take a deep, shuddering breath, willing your body to settle itself. “Okay,” you huff.
“As you wish, my love.”
For the final denial he gives you no quarter. Fingers working in your cunt, and his mouth on your clit, he touches every single spot he has previously used to tease you to the edge. His fingers brush relentlessly over your g-spot, layering another temptation—a different type of climax, a heavy and promising weight that settles between your hips—it grows and swells like an ocean wave. It joins the coil in your abdomen. Each alone is imposing, but together they’re nearly unbearable. They build and build inside of you, tempting you, promising pleasure, if only you just let yourself tip. Fall.
You give yourself to the building tension you feel in your core. You let Loki’s tongue and fingers speed you to the edge, so close-
“Loki, stop!”
And, just like that, he does. You let out a ragged exhale as he gently withdraws. Tears bite at your eyes, and suddenly Loki is comforting you because you’re sobbing.
“You did so well,” he kisses you tenderly, soothing you as you wait for the rush of emotion to shake the tension out of your body. Soon, only the occasional sniffle remains.
Loki is beaming down at you. “My love, I am so proud of you. You were magnificent. Absolutely breathtaking.”
“Thank you, Loki,” you sigh. Though exhausted on the outside, inside you preen at the praise.
“Are you ready, darling, or do you need a moment?” He radiates patience, and you know he will gladly give you as much time as you require to recover, even though he must also be desperate to fuck, because he’s been hard and leaking since he first slipped his fingers inside of you.
“No, please. Need you now,” you whine.
“Hush, my love. I’m here.” He kneels between your legs, sliding a reassuring hand over your trembling thigh. “I want you to come. Whenever you’re ready, whenever you need to. You don’t need permission. I want to see you come on my cock. I want to feel your cunt milking me. Please, my love. Can you do that for me?”
That word… please. Such a simple word, but it’s as good as begging when it falls from Loki’s lips. It’s just shy of desperation.
“Yes. Anything you want.”
“I only want your bliss.”
Fingers wrap around his weeping cock, and he slips it though your folds, pushing into your cunt, he bottoms out with one slick thrust.
You struggle to adjust to his size. Your pussy quivers around him, and he barks an Asgardian curse.
“Such a tight cunt for me,” he groans.
He builds you up as slowly as he can tolerate, taking time to savor the moans and supplications that fall from your lips, but his patience is rapidly fraying. The way you’re moaning and squeezing him tells him you’re ready to come. He’s led you to the edge, yet again, but this time he helps you over with a gentle nudge.
A mere graze of his thumb over your clit coaxes your climax to the surface. It hits you hard, bowing your back, making you sing Loki’s name, while you cling to his muscular shoulders.
Before you’re even done shuddering out one orgasm, he shifts your hips with a steady hand on the back of your thigh, and his thick cock strokes perfectly against your g-spot. The pressure between your hips crests, and crashes over you. You gush slick over Loki’s cock, dousing his hips and thighs when he makes you squirt.
He drops his forehead to yours. “My love, you are extraordinary. I need to see you ride my cock.”
“Please,” you sigh.
He rolls you both over, he guides you over him with strong hands, until you start rolling your hips to grind against him, then bouncing breathlessly over his length. Your moans grow louder, and make him twitch inside you.
“Yes, love. Use my cock. It’s yours. I am fucking yours,” he growls.
A rosy pink blush spreads over his pale chest. He’s completely entranced by you. His crystalline eyes drink you in greedily, his mouth hangs open with panted breaths, and strands of his dark hair cling to his sweat-dampened forehead.
He is completely debauched. A fucking work of art.
“Loki,” you gasp.
“Yes, my love. I know you’re ready. So am I. Be a good girl and come on my cock. Come for me. Now.”
Loki’s command is as inexorable as the tides. Your climax burns through you with frightening intensity. He takes possession of your hips, holding you above him so he can drive himself into you hard and fast. He fans the flames that lick through you until you’re consumed by them, consumed by him.
It’s music to his ears when you scream his name. A handful of thrusts later, and warmth spreads inside you as his spend coats your quivering channel. When he comes, he throws his head back and groans your name so it echoes back to you from the corners of his cavernous room.
He doesn’t allow you to move off of him once he’s finished, nor does he grow soft inside you. Somehow his stiff cock feels even heavier when you’re fucked out and raw like this.
Holding you in his strong arms, he strokes soft fingers over your face. “Are you fine, my love?” he asks in a voice that sings with wild magic, and night skies pregnant with stars.
You nod against his shoulder. “Yes. I’m wonderful, Loki.”
“Glorious,” he coos, “because we simply must do that again.”