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~*Loki’s POV*~
I don’t know what to do. Well, that’s a lie. I know exactly what to do. I just don’t know how to go about it. I can feel my stomach twist and churn with nervousness.
I love painting. Painting is a passion, I knew from a very young age that I would be an artist. After the magic lessons my mother gave me to control my Seidr, I would run to my rooms to go sketch a deer I saw in the woods, or a particularly weird looking carrot that a servant brought past me into the kitchen as I was on my way to my quarters. My bedchambers quickly became littered and filled to the brim with scrunched up parchments and completely filled sketchbooks with drawings of things younger me thought was fascinating.
It’s something I still do to this day. Drawers, tables, bookshelves *filled* with old and new sketchbooks. Slowly over the years, sketchbooks were replaced with canvas’s. And now I have a blank one staring me right in the face. I know exactly what I want to paint, and what colours I need and already have, but I can’t seem to get it to look right.
First, I’ll move the body parts around - maybe it’s the pose? Hmm… No, now it’s the hair, it’s sticking up the wrong way. So I fix the hair, it’s sitting normally now. Now the face doesn’t even look like a real face. I fix the face. It looks like a real person now.
It looks like Rosalyn, my handmaid. The beautiful girl, no, *woman*, who comes to change my bins filled with parchment and take my dirty clothes to be washed. Even though I insist that she shouldn’t do my cleaning for me, time and time again she will always tell me “it’s my job” and “it’s what I get paid to do”. It’s a load of rubbish though. She barely gets paid enough to buy her own food, and she never takes the extra money I give her. She says, “I don’t deserve it, I do far less than all of the girls here.”
I didn’t even mean to draw her. It’s just… her eyes. Her beautiful, lustrous grey pools that I could swim in every day. They draw my every thought to her. Her lips as well. They’re so pink and plump. Every time her tongue darts out to moisturise them when she’s nervous, I catch myself staring. Oh, and her hair. I’ve never touched it, the fear of crossing a boundary and her never looking at me again too overpowering, but it looks so soft. The way that it sits in the plait behind her. I just know that it is always so smooth and soft under her fingers as she brushes it every morning.
Unfortunately, I don’t think I could ask her to pose for me. For it is a very lewd painting, a man, that for some reason really resembles myself, is on his knees infront of a woman, pushing her against the wall with his face between her legs. Her right hand is tangled in his hair, his left arm underneath her right leg, holding onto her hip to stay steady. Her left hand is lifted against the wall near her head, her hair falling through her fingers, her face covered in pleasure.
How do I get this damned painting right. Nothing is working. Everything looks wrong it doesn’t look like my other sketches. They’re so detailed and precise. It looks basically like the real thing that I was looking at.
…
That’s it.
I need to get a model. I could call in a prostitute or two to come pose. Hmm… That wouldn’t work, they most likely won’t look like what I want my painting to look like. Maybe I just have to use my imagination. Or I get the prostitutes in and use them but just for the base of where body parts go and then draw them to look like what I want. Yeah, that’ll work.
As I run to the side of my room where there’s a rope, I pull on it, knowing that in the servants quarters there’s a bell ringing, signalling that I need Rosalyn’s assistance as soon as she possibly can get to me. In just a few minutes, I hear a few polite taps on my door. Because I was standing there waiting for her, I immediately throw the door open.
Before I can open my mouth to speak, her eyes capture me. My voice stops before it can exit my mouth. I stare into her soul for a few seconds before I notice her tongue move to cover her lips. My eyes move down to track the movement. Her luscious lips, now coated with a thin layer of saliva, rub together to feel the smoothness that she created.
“Yes, Your Highness? You called for me?” Rosalyn politely asks, looking up at me the way she always does; submissive and ready to take orders.
“Uh- um… Yes, come in, please, Rosalyn.” What am I saying?! I was going to task her to call some prostitutes for me!
Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, I hold open the door to my quarters open and gesture to the furniture in the middle of the room.
“Take a seat,” I command.
She looks a bit confused and almost scared of the love seats and couches, but she sits down and crosses one foot in front of the other. She behaves like a princess. She could be my princess. I want her to be my princess.
“What do you need, sir?” She still refuses to call me by my name. She always says that it’s part of her orders and on the contract she signed.
“Um…” I sit on the couch adjacent to her and try to think of what to tell her.
Gods, I can’t ask her to call me a prostitute! She’ll think I’m some kind of man, no, *boy* who abuses his powers for sex! What do I do?!
I’ve thought about this all afternoon and now that she’s here I can’t even open my mouth to speak. I just want to get this painting done. Ugh, maybe I’ll just draw something else. I can’t get myself to ask her anything like that.
Wait, how about I get her to pose for me. She’ll do anything for me, as she’s stated multiple times. Well, first I need to get her in the mood. Make her feel comfortable, and maybe actually let me eat her out for a painting.
What if she has a partner? Or worse, she’s betrothed to another man?! Gods, that would make this awkward. I could never ask her such a thing either, it’s not my place.
On second thought, this idea won’t work. I can’t observe her posing even if she said yes, and there’s absolutely no way I’m even asking her if she has a partner and have the disappointment of finding out she’s been betrothed.
“Your highness? Are you alright? Shall I draw a bath? You look stressed, what’s wrong?” She asks in that gentle calming way of hers.
Shooting me out of my thoughts I immediately reply, “Yes! I’m fine! I was just thinking about what I needed you for a decided that I didn’t need you anymore! Sorry for your troubles, you may go.”
Wow, Loki. You couldn’t have been kinder with the way you basically told her to fuck off.
“Yes, Your Highness. Have a good day,” She exclaims.
As I watch her leave my bedchambers, I can’t help but feel disappointed. Her hands politely clasped infront of her as she walks out. She shuts the door and I hear her footsteps retreat back to where she came from.
~-/_____\-~
~*Rosalyn’s POV*~
“Rosalyn, Your Prince is calling for you!” The head handmaid calls out to me.
“Thank you, Marline!” I yell back, and immediately head to Loki’s - I mean, His Highness’s - quarters.
Practically running to get there as quickly as possible. I stop infront of his door, fix my plait and my dress, and politely knock on the door.
The second my hand falls back to my side, the door is aggressively pulled open to reveal him, very disheveled, looking very excited, as well as anxious. I lick my lips and rub them together as I look up at him before speaking.
“Yes, Your Highness? You called for me?” I ask.
“Uh- um… Yes, come in, please, Rosalyn.” His Highness quickly says as he holds open the door and gestures to his arrangement of love seats and couches.
“Take a seat,” He commands.
I’m a bit cautious, scared of getting any dirt on the beautiful green couches that have golden accents. Loki’s… His Highness’s signature colours. But because he ordered me, I take a seat on the very end of one love seat, the closest one to the door, and cross one foot over the other to look professional.
“What do you need, sir?” I request as I watch him move towards me.
“Um…” He takes a seat on the coach adjacent from me and just observes me.
He first watched me cross my feet, then put my hands in my lap, then lick my lips, and he settles on my eyes. I can tell he’s in deep thought.
I don’t know when he’s going to actually talk to me. It’s been several minutes since we’ve sat down, but I haven’t moved and he’s been looking into my eyes since. But slowly, he starts looking more pale than usual and sweating a lot more. Is he sick?!
“Your highness? Are you alright? Shall I draw a bath? You look stressed, what’s wrong?” I cautiously recommend.
Obviously startled, not expecting me to talk first, he states, “Yes! I’m fine! I was just thinking about what I needed you for and decided that I didn’t need you anymore! Sorry for your troubles, you may go.”
With my feelings getting low and my ego going lower, I politely say “Yes, Your Highness. Have a good day.” and make my way back to the handmaid’s quarters. I shut his door and listen to the patter of my own feet down the hallway.
“Rosalyn, wait!” I hear Loki call from behind me.
His deep, dominant voice booming throughout the halls, calling my name. Gods, do I wish I could hear him say that again, but maybe closer to my ear and in a different context. Oh my gosh! I shouldn’t have thought that. Stupid Rosalyn, stupid feelings, stupid hot prince!
I stop walking and turn my heel to face him, and then I pace back to his room. He looks to suddenly have had a burst of confidence.
“Look, I’m going to ask you some really weird questions and you just need to trust me. If I make you uncomfortable at all tell me, please. Now, come back in,” he demands.
Not wanting to disobey his orders, and being the most curious person you’ll ever meet, I follow him into his room and sit back on the same love seat.
Instead, this time, he sits next to me on the love seat.
“Do you have a partner?” He gets straight into the questions.
“Uh, no. I have no romantic relations at this point in time.” I answer.
“Are you interested in anyone?”
Yeah, you…
“Not particularly.”
“Have you had sex before?”
“Oh! Um… yes, only once.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
…
“Not particularly.”
“How would you like to have sex with me?”
My eyes bulge out of my head and I audibly gasp. I can’t have sex with a prince, surely that’s some kind of treason.
“I can’t have sex with a *prince*! That’s so very illegal!”
“That doesn’t mean anyone has to know. Think about it,” He comes closer to me and puts a hand on my knee rubbing it in small circles with his finger. “I could give you the best experience of your life and you’re doing me a massive favour.”
“How could *I* be doing *you* a favour by having sex?!”
“See I want to make this painting, it’s a bit lewd and I can’t quite get it right. I originally called you here to bring in a prostitute or two, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. But I want you to be my model. I want to have sex with you.”
“Wow, you’re really straightforward, uh… Look, I would say yes, Your Highness-“
“Loki, call me Loki.”
“But I’m sure a handmaid having romantic relations with a prince is some form of treason. I could lose my job! And think of after-“
“We don’t have to worry about after, that’s something to worry about later.”
“Well, you’ll go back to have the amazing life of a prince and I’ll go back to being a handmaid and never having such amazing sex ever again and probably marrying a man that doesn’t love me, and I don’t love him, but we’re forced to have *at least* 5 kids because that’s the way that my life has always been set out for me!” I take in a deep breath because I didn’t breathe at all while I said that.
There’s an uncomfortable silence that settles in the room.
Loki takes his hand off my knee.
“Right.” He looks disappointed.
“I shouldn’t have talked back to you, Your Highness, I’m sorry.”
“Please, for the love of the Gods call me Loki.”
“I can’t! It’s against the literal law!”
“I’ll show you what’s against the law.”
Loki lunges forwards towards me and digs his hand into my hair, pushing his lips into mine. At first, I push him back, but I didn’t want him to stop at all. Almost like he read my mind, he continues on abusing my lips.
Gods, I have been praying for this ever since I started working for him. His soft, silky, black hair cascades down his shoulders, normally slicked back, but today it was just thrown wherever it would go. I dragged my hands up his shoulders to the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
His lips part and his tongue darts out to lick my lips. He patiently tried to pry my lips open, and when he succeeds he pushes his lips between my teeth to massage my own tongue.
In the heat of the moment, I couldn’t stop, but I subconsciously knew that I may regret this later. And for some reason, he pulled away.
“Can we take this to my studio?” He pleads.
“Yes,” I sigh and pull him back to my lips, drunk on his kisses.
He moves off the love seat, keeping our lips connected, and picks me up like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist and basically bear hug him whilst we make out.
As we walk into the studio, he sets me down on yet another love seat, but this time I’m laying down and he lays down on top of me. His bruising kisses move to my neck and I use this moment of peace to look around the room. He has an easel stationed close to the middle of the room, facing a wall. To the left, or in this case behind the love seat and coffee table, there’s a supply closet with no door that is filled to the brim with pigments, paints, and tools of all kinds.
Slowly, his hands start to wander down to my waist and he grinds into my heat. I feel his hardness rub against my swollen clit and I let out a reluctant, quiet moan.
“Let your moans out. I want to hear it.” He commands.
“I- I can’t…” Another strangled moan as he hits her clit. “What if someone hears us…”
“They can’t. The Royalty’s quarters have sound proofing. For privacy or something,” He rolls his hips against mine once more.
Trusting him, I let out a loud moan.
“That’s it, so good,” he mouths into my neck.
Slowly, he starts lifting my dress. “Is this okay?”
“Yes! Don’t stop!” I plead.
He slowly lifts my dress to reveal my underwear, a simple pirate of cloth cut to fit my bottom half and my breasts respectively. I gets self conscious, knowing that all the other woman he’s seen have probably been in laced matching sets or g-strings, something sexier than grey cloth that protects nothing. I move my hands to cover myself and look away from him in shame.
“Don’t cover yourself, you’re so beautiful.” His appreciation of me ebbing away the shame slowly.
Cautiously, he reaches around my back to take off my bra - if you can even call it that - so he can have access to my hand-sized breasts. He unclips it and moves to take it off of my body. He looks at my chest in amazement and lowers his face to it.
As he moves his hands up to my boobs, he squishes them against his face as he makes out with the skin there. His thumb and index finger squeeze my nipples between each other, which forces me to moan out in ecstasy. My hand moves to his hair and I grip the strands tightly.
He moves his face to one of my nipples, putting it in his face and sucking on it like a baby would to its mother. Kitten licks and kisses were then given to it and then he gives the exact same attention to the other. I start to feel a little emotional about the fact that a man cares for my pleasure and not just his.
He then moves his entire body down mine, leaving a trail of kisses and licks, to then push my underwear away. I’ve never done any of this, the only thing that’s been up there is a tampon and that disgusting guy I fucked at a party all those years ago. I assumesthat’s what he’s going to do, too, but instead he moves his hands to my wetness and runs a finger up me, landing on my clit and rubbing it in circle.
“Oh, my god!” I shriek.
“Yes, this god’s all yours, my love,” He groans, watching my face.
He plunges a finger into me and I almost pull his hair out, but he seems to like that because he lets out a moan of pleasure. His finger thrusts in and out of me, perfectly hitting a spot that starts making me see stars.
“Don’t stop! Please!” I yell, he feels so good inside of me, I can’t even begin to imagine what other parts of him will feel like.
“You’re doing so good for me, darling,” His lips find my clit and he laps up any wetness there.
I practically scream out in pleasure. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m getting finger fucked by a prince and he’s sucking my clit. I’m the luckiest girl on the planet, to Hel with worrying about getting fired, I don’t care anymore.
I quickly start approach my climax and I beg and plead Loki not to stop, shouting at him to get my point across that I’m very close. And just when I’m about to reach the point of infinity, he pulls his face away and his fingers out.
I whimper in despair, now feeling rather empty, “Why’d you stop?”
“Cause I wanted to move somewhere else. You’re technically being a model, remember?” He picks me up off the couch and steadies me on the ground.
While that kind of hurt my feelings, I have to remember that he’s a prince and that he’s had sex with much prettier women before, this is just to help him paint. I cast my eyes down as I follow him to one of the walls.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, but continues, knowing what I’m thinking, “Look, I didn’t mean to say it like that. I want to have sex with you and this definitely won’t be the last time, I just need to see you up against the wall.”
As he says the last sentence he pins me against the wall infront of the canvas. Not knowing what he’s about to do as he tells me to stay put as he goes back into his bedchambers to grab something. After a minute or two of awkwardly waiting against the wall, he comes back into the studio with no shirt, untying his trousers, and he’s holding a packet of some kind. I eye the packet, confused on what it is.
“Oh- Uh, this is a condom, it will ensure you don’t get pregnant. It something that’s for some reason very expensive in Asgard, in other places it’s quite cheap, in some, it’s even a free thing you can get anywhere. Either way, you seemed pretty worried at the idea of having kids earlier, so this is just some protection,” He explains.
If it’s expensive, that makes sense, being a handmaid, I am the lowest of low in society, the finest delicacy I have eaten is fresh bread. My family never even knew farmers, so our vegetables were starting to mould and rot even when we just bought them. So, something like protection to not have even more children, which is something you’re encouraged to do in the lower classes, is something I definitely don’t see.
“Oh.. Well, I appreciate it,” I say embarrassed that I don’t know about something that seems so simple in his life.
Casually, he drops his pants and underwear, revealing his length. I stare down at it, unable to stop gawking. I couldn’t take that. While he isn’t some humongous unbelievable length, he has at least 7 or 8 inches down there. I start to feel dizzy even thinking about it. He grabs himself and strokes a few times before opening the packet and sliding on the rubbery condom.
He walks up to me again and puts his hand on my face. I lean into it and hold my hand on top of his. He gently leans his face down to mine and presses his lips to mine. This kiss is softer than before, I feel like I don’t have to worry about a bruise after, like earlier. I lift one of my hands to drag through and tug on his hair gently.
He pulls away briefly to look into my eyes, “I hope this doesn’t hurt too much.”
He comes closer to me and lines himself up with my entrance. He connects our lips again as he pushes his length into me, going so deep i think his tip can feel my stomach. But it keeps going, it feels like he’s going to push into me forever. As he finally settles into me, my breath hitched and my hands are tight in his hair. He lets out a loud groan as I breathe through the little bit of pain I’m in.
He whispers soothing things into my ear as I clutch him tight to me. He soon pulls out, to then pick me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and then he pushes himself back in. I let out a moan filled with pleasure and pain. He grips me and pulls me as close to his body as he can as he sets a slow pace pushing into and out of me.
I take a few deep breaths to try and ground myself, but every time he soothes himself into me, he hits the perfect spot to make me moan and groan for him.
“Gods- Sir, please go faster,” I plead.
He stops and looks me dead in the eyes, “Call me Loki, love.”
“Your Highness, I can’t-“
“I won’t be repeating myself.” He says as he starts a new, faster pace of thrusting, making me see stars.
“Oh, my God! Loki!” I scream as I throw my head back against the wall.
“Yes! I’m yours, my Queen,” Because of the way we’re positioned, he can lean his face down into my breasts as the bounce up and down around him.
Normally, I would tell him to never insult Her Highness, Frigga, like that, but Gods did it make me feel as if I were his Queen. His bruising pace quickly makes me rush to my climax.
“Loki, I’m close! I’m so close! Don’t you dare fucking stop!” I scream at him.
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” He yells back, his dick twitching, also close to his release.
Soon, after he drags one of his hands down to my clit to give me even more stimulation, we come at the same time as I chant his name like a prayer to any God that will listen to me.
I decided to give it a few moments of silence and breathing before I ask, “What happens now?”
“Oh, I’m not done with you, yet.” He chuckles and places my legs onto the ground.
Following my legs suit, he begins to kneel before me, “Gods, no! A prince should never kneel!”
“I wouldn’t kneel for anyone else except for my Queen,” He brings his face close to my heat once again, but this time he actually pushes his tongue past my folds instead of his fingers.
I gasp and drag my hands to his hair once more and tug on the dark strands. His tongue explores the lower region of my body and I throw my head back against the wall again. His tongue finds the same spot that his fingers and cock previously did that kept making me see stars, and I definitely made sure he knew.
“Right there! Please! Right there, Loki!” I screech.
I grind myself onto his face, this position almost feels natural to me. My knees quickly buckle from the pleasure, and he slides his left hand up to my hip to keep me steady. With my right hand tugging his hair, and my left hand pulling my own, I scream out to whoever is listening as I reach that blissful climax.
“Yes, Loki! Gods! Yes!” I pant as I ride out my high on his face.
With a face covered in my wetness, he looks up at me as I take a few deep breaths. I move to kneel onto the floor, my legs having no power left. He slowly stands up, to then reach down and pick me up.
He takes me to his bathroom and draws me a bath, then walks to the bin to throw away his soiled condom. He then hops into the bath with me and helps wash my entire body from any sweat or… other substances. He cleanses mine and his hair and then gets out to grab us both a towel.
When he comes back, he also grabbed some extra clothes for me, refusing to let me back into my disgustingly uncomfortable handmaid uniform. He then takes us back to the studio and I watch him paint his way into the night. I don’t get to watch the entire process, but when I awaken from a beautifully peaceful and comfortable sleep, I see that he has started a painting. It resembles exactly what we were just doing.
I don’t know how he does it without the reference right in front of him, but he is probably using his memories from our prior shared moments.
Not caring out what tomorrow may bring, I rest my head back down and fall back asleep once again.