“I didn’t ask to ascend, Loki.”
“You didn’t ask to descend either,” he answers, sharp and sincere.
My heart falls onto the floor between us, and I scoop her up carefully, aware of the damage to her.
Tag: Vulnerability
I lean back into his arms.
“Tell me the fantasies concerning you.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s alright. I won’t feel ashamed or judge you,” Loki says.
I feel his warmth as I show him the fantasies that creep into my head most.
“Nothing that unusual.”
“Really?” I ask, looking up at him.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Well, you know my mythos. I’m never surprised. Maybe that’s a good thing?”
I turn three shades of red and bury myself in his chest.
“I love your evil side,” I confess, my eyes brimming with tears.
“Tell me,” Loki says.
“The way you use your darkness is beautiful. It’s not all sass and humor, but rich and visceral. It’s not just that you are cunning. It’s that you reinvented the meaning of cunning. Your lies lead to truth, sure, but this involves opening my wounds, cleansing and cauterizing them. It’s not fun, but it’s brilliant.”
“Thank you for appreciating me,” he says, a slight snarl curling his lip.
“You’re the most beautiful monster.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” he says sardonically.
“What?”
“Relate.”
“I can’t help it. It’s not that I enjoy everything, but I am willing to see the beauty of it, the genius.”
His fingers unwrap from around my arms, and I melt into him, aware that my life is in his hands as much as my own.
Tied with soft leather strips to the headboard. A cute little pink vibrator between my legs, clamped shut around it, softening its jolting just enough that I can’t be satiated.
Loki acts nonchalant, like he’s not in the middle of torturing and teasing my pleasure. I squirm and wiggle, twisting this way and that. His attention, his eyes watching intently, suddenly catches me off guard, and I give up the struggle.
“You didn’t think I would let you so soon, did you?” he says with the slightest smirk, deep lustiness in his voice.
“No,” I whimper in confession.
“Not until you are mine,” he says gently.
“Please,” I plead.
He strokes the hair from my eyes, leaning over to kiss me, warmth flooding my senses.
I can’t seem to get the vibration on my sweet spot, and my frustration comes out in grunts and groans. I’m aware of the part of my brain in love with the process, with my vulnerability, with my desire, with my want of him, and with my submission so beautifully unfolding.
He grins, pulling on a black latex glove, and proceeds to fill me with his middle finger.
“Fuck you, Sweetheart,” he says adoringly.
I love the double entendre. It makes me further his that he engages my mind. His come-hither motion pulls me into him, soul first.
“My soul is so slutty!” I squeal shamelessly.
He chuckles, wearing a wide grin, then clears his throat.
“I’m your God. Your husband. Your Dominant, if you’ll have me.”
Surprise tears break me open.
“Yes!” I yelp.
He kisses me as I fall apart to let him in.
“Good. You’ll break up with him.”
I agree. I already knew it was needed.
“How?”
“Exactly how he left you. Do you hear me? Give nothing more to him. Not an explanation, not your time, nothing. Be petty.”
Loki helps me up from my restraints, both past and leather, darling strips that forever now will remind me of his love.