Work Text:
“Is winter on Midgard always this frivolous and annoying?”
Loki stared out the window of (y/n)’s study, watching the people walking past on the streets below. His posture and sneer read of disdain and superiority. But his eyes betrayed him.
That was the first thing (y/n) learned after the Avengers left the infamous God of Mischief in her charge: No matter what Loki wants you to believe, what tricks he pulls, or what mask he puts on, those eyes always give him away.
(Y/N) creeped over to see what he was looking at. Peering over his shoulder, she observed a young couple with a toddler between them getting hot chocolate from a stand across the street.
She nodded and hummed, causing him to jump slightly. “Ah, yes! Family bonding. So very frivolous....”
He rolled his eyes, moving away from the window.
“What is the point?” he contested, dropping onto the couch in an oddly elegant fashion. It amazed her how posh he was even when he was being so dramatic and, frankly, ridiculous.
“In getting one’s toddler a hot beverage in the middle of winter?”
Another impressive eye roll. “In all of it. Pretending to care about ‘family bonding,’ the incessant singing, and all this hopped up merriment because of one holiday. What makes it any different from any other day?”
(Y/N) didn’t respond, still looking out the window. Sometimes it was just best to let him get it out of his system. But something about his tone this time… it was different. His usual rants were full of venom, often trembling with centuries of pent up fury. Not this time, though. This time it was fronted with the same sadness she’d seen in his eyes moments before.
“Tell me you don’t fall in for this nonsense,” he demanded, pointedly.
She shrugged. “Parts of it annoy me, don’t get me wrong. The modern world has corrupted it with intense commercialism and social rivalries over which neighbors put up the best lights or throw the most lavish parties. But the general feeling of joy, peace, and together-ness…. It can be a well needed relief. Especially in this line of work. “
Sighing, she turned to him. “And for some, it’s the only time people try to behave long enough to give them some peace.”
Loki cocked his head with a sarcastic smirk. “Somehow, I feel that’s directed at me.”
She gave him a coy wink.
But Loki didn’t see it. His eyes glazed over, he appeared to be off into another realm. That sadness still flared within them.
“Tell you what,” she started. Loki shook his head before looking back to her. “Since it will just be the two of us here on Christmas -- no pesky, boisterous Avengers to annoy us -- why don’t we try to enjoy it? Even just a little.”
Loki groaned. (Y/N) put her hand up.
“Just hear me out. All I ask is for you to try and enjoy yourself -- enjoy the peace and quiet of an empty Sanctum -- and I will make sure that peace stays intact. Deal?”
“Isn’t ensuring ‘peace on Earth” generally your job anyways?”
(Y/N) shot him an unamused glare and stepped in front of him.
“Shut the fuck up and shake my hand.” She was no longer asking, she was demanding as she shoved her hand out to him.
He looked at her hand and then at her, taking it in his. His hand was soft and cold to the touch. “Very well. No need for such hostilities, wizard.”
For a fleeting moment, as they stood there, hands linked, the sadness appeared to dim.
Loki withdrew his hand, picking up a book from the end table.
The conversation was over.
~~~
Over the next couple weeks, (y/n) planned nonstop, trying to figure out a way to make Loki’s Christmas special. Make the sadness dim again….
The thought to make it elaborate and flashy was tempting. And would certainly fit Lok’s usual over-exaggerated personality. But that just didn’t feel right.
It was obvious to her that what he needed -- what he longed for -- was kindness, a sense of comfort and belonging. Something to cherish.
Keeping it simple and intimate...that’s what she knew would mean more to him.
For his part, Like had done his best to enjoy himself as promised. He visited the window less and the book-covered walls of her study served to hold his interest.
He couldn’t remember the last time he got to revel in so much peace. No wars to plan, no reckless brother to prevent from starting wars…. It was bliss.
Perhaps, he’d never felt this peace before. Is that why he was ignoring the sorcerer’s obvious scheming? Usually, he’d be determined to discover her plot and foil it somehow. But, right now? He couldn’t care less.
Or perhaps he did?
(Y/N) never bothered him, leaving him to the immense variety of books in her possession. He read extensively on sorcery, the universe (and something called the multiverse), time and the efforts of these wizards to keep it in check.
On occasion, he’d ask her a question about what he was reading, to which she always excitedly answered. She lit up each time, despite obviously trying to maintain the stoic composure no doubt instilled in her but the Sorcerer Supreme. Knowledge, and possibly more so his interest in that knowledge, revealed a passion that quite unexpectedly captured his attention.
He found himself trying to see it more and more. Asking her more questions just to see it. Thinking about it hours later. Staying up late into the night to come up with ways to get her to talk longer before returning to her practiced stoic demeanor.
~~~
As Christmas Eve arrived, however, that stoicism melted away. (Y/N) was practically buzzing.
“One could almost mistake you for one of those squealing children outside the toy shop,” Loki teased, finally acknowledging her obvious excitement over her plans.
The evening light from the window silhouetted her perfectly. She gave him a coy smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”
His determination to remain outwardly indifferent to her features faltered as he looked at her. She was gorgeous! More so than any Valkyrie he’d ever laid eyes on.
“You squealing could never be a bad thing.”
The words graced past his lips smoother than he anticipated. But, even still, he held his breath as he waited for her to respond.
(Y/N) stared at him in shock. Had she heard him right?
Did that mean he’d heard her?
Metaphorical butterflies swarmed in her churning stomach as she struggled to find enough confidence to reply. Her training -- her orders she’d worked so hard to follow battled in her mind against the impulses desperately begging to take over.
“I, um, I’m sorry?” she stuttered, her hands wringing behind her back.
Loki’s eyes locked onto hers, holding her there, transfixed. “I do -- very much -- believe you heard me.”
His silky, low voice went straight to places only graced by her own fingers. (Y/N) prayed on every known deity in the multiverse he didn’t notice her thighs involuntarily, but subtly moving closer together.
The fire crackled as the god stood and stalked towards her. But with each step he took, her demeanor shifted.
Flustered and caught-off-guard gave way to a set jaw and straightened posture.
He came to a stop centimeters in front of her, an intriguing blaze melting the frostiness of his irises. She looked up at him, the corner of her mouth pulling mischievously -- a look that filled him with intense desires. Desires that brought back the echo of the other sorcerer’s moans passing through the walls of the Sanctorum.
He’d heard it only the once and very faintly. Truth be told, he thought he’d imagined it -- until her supple thighs flinched a moment ago.
And now this dominant posture? Oh she was igniting all his cells in a lust the equal he’d never felt.
Unable to control herself against those daring eyes any longer, she grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into a needy kiss.
Loki’s arms snaked around (y/n), each of his long, beautiful fingers firmly pressed into her back. His tongue met hers, though whose was in control was up for debate.
(Y/N) pulled away, breathing heavy, just long enough to demand, “Fuck me, Loki!”
He merely growled in response, recapturing her lips, and backed her toward the couch. With a quick flourish of his hand, he transfigured the couch into a luscious bed. They fell onto it, tangling together, each vanishing the other’s clothes.
Hands went everywhere -- exploring, prodding, and gripping. Her cunt ground down against his thigh as he fondled her breasts.
Grinning, Loki roughly pinched her nipples before grabbing hold of her hips and holding her in place. Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, he made his way down her neck, chest, and stomach to her thoroughly dripping cunt.
He seized it with his mouth, pressing hard on her clit with his tongue in a rhythm that had her back arched instantaneously. Sultry, sweet moans rang out -- and on the Norns he swore without doubt they were the same he heard a few nights previous.
And he wanted to hear more.
She gripped his long hair in tight fists. Her legs draped over his shoulders, squeezing around his head when his tongue flicked just right. His arms wrapped under her hips, lifting them to reach deeper as he explored her inner walls.
The reputation of that tongue did little justice to the true magic she was experiencing in that moment. Though she very much doubted this is what those legends pertained to.
She tasted so good! He could have spent a millenium tracing her folds and clit and diving deep into her. But his own nethers were demanding attention, his hips occasionally bucking against the bed when she let out particularly enthralling moans.
Unable to ignore his throbbing cock any longer, he crawled his way back up her body. He lined himself up and looked her in the eye, waiting for permission.
(Y/N) nodded, pulling him into another deep kiss and gasping against his lips as he pressed into her. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, wanting to be as close to her and as deep in her as possible.
He chuckled, moving one hand to grip her ass as he set a steady but heated pace. He’d wanted this for so long, though he could not pinpoint the exact moment his regard for her changed from mostly indifferent to a desperate need to be with her more intimately. It seemed to him it happened before he even realized, but he wanted all of her -- her heart, her soul, and, yes, he wanted to enjoy her body as well.
Badly.
And quite clearly, she’d wanted him too. For how long, he did not know, but he didn't much care either. Not right now. They had each other; he was taking her as he had in his dreams for weeks at least and she was filling the room with the sounds of her pleasure.
“Yes, Loki! Right there!” she moaned as he hit her g-spot over and over again. God, he was so good!
Her orgasm started to build; her nails dug into his back.
Understanding, Loki pounded into her harder. His own orgasm threatens to release with every thrust. But he needed to give this captivating mortal hers first.
(Y/N) screamed his name, convulsing, as her orgasm broke. The feeling of his own seed spilling in her as her walls squeezed around his cock added a few extra -- intense -- spasms.
Their euphorias combined, laced with magic so thick they could taste it in the air around them.
Stroking his cheek, she reached into the air just behind his head, gathering their magic to materialize his gift. When dealing with the God of Mischief, (y/n) knew the only safe place to hide a present was in another, desolate, universe.
She let her arm fall to the bed above her. That coy smile from before returned to her lips. Loki’s eyes glistened.
In her hand was a dazzling gold dagger. The rune, Kaunaz, was carved and painted green on the black handle -- an incantation for cunning and insight over one’s enemies. And one closely tied to Loki’s legend.
“Merry Christmas, Loki,” she whispered.
He looked from the dagger to her. Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, he replied in earnest, “Merry Christmas, (y/n).”