Chapter Text
“Must we?” Loki grumbled.
You smiled, loving him somehow even more when he was in a sour mood like this, a misery puss. “Yes. You can’t seriously not know your own birthday.”
He frowned, the motion pulling down that gorgeous poet’s mouth. “As I have said previously, it’s not the most auspicious memory for me, kitten.”
You settled yourself more firmly into his lap, twining your arms around his neck with a shit-eating grin. “And I want to make all future birthdays a great memory. A date you look forward to. A date we can celebrate.”
He rolled his eyes.
“With cake,” you added.
You had his interest now.
“What sort of cake?” he asked, his face set in that practiced boredom that you now saw through easily.
“Whatever sort you want. Birthday person chooses the cake.”
He arched a brow. “And, if Midgardian traditions are to be followed completely, I shall receive a present, shall I not?”
You teased your fingers through his raven hair, tugging on it lightly. “Whatever you want. Although what do you get a two thousand year old god who can wield magic?”
“I have a few ideas,” he replied silkily, his voice dropping as he nuzzled his face into your neck, making you shiver with delight.
“Do they involve clothes?” you teased, loving that you were more comfortable with him than ever, relaxed enough to so casually have this conversation.
“No clothes will even be entertained on my birthday,” he growled, continuing to kiss his way down your neck. His busy, talented fingers started work on the buttons of your sweater, revealing more of you to his eager gaze with every passing moment. You arched your neck to give him better access, clinging to his shoulders as he filled his large, warm hands with your breasts, teasing the nipples.
This man. He could send you from zero to sixty in a hot minute and he knew it. From the way that he leaned you back into the couch, claiming every inch of bared skin for his own with caressing fingertips and warm kisses, you could tell he reveled in knowing exactly how to make you lose your mind.
You breathed his name as he put that silver tongue to work down your body, switching positions so he lay you back on the sofa. It had been christened many times since Loki had practically moved into your apartment, and you hummed in pleasure as he moved over you. You’d even started referring to it as “the sofa of sex” in your head. Loki definitely had a similar idea; he sometimes got a wicked gleam in his eye when you flopped down on it after a hard day of work.
Clothes practically melted off of your bodies, tossed haphazardly about the apartment in Loki’s rush to feel your skin bare against his. Only when your entire body was bare to him did he proceed in lavishing you with his attentions, his tongue and fingers playing down your body to reach the apex of your thighs.
He stroked his deft fingers over the throbbing need in between your legs, eliciting a sigh from you and making your hips buck against him. You felt him smile against the soft flesh of your breast. “Seven hells, I can’t get enough of how responsive you are.”
Your fingers found purchase in his hair, urging him on with gentle pressure on the back of his head. “If you don’t touch me, right now, I swear to those Norns that you talk so much about that I won’t have sex with you for an entire week.”
“I hardly doubt you could resist me for that long, kitten, but as you wish. Let it be known that I have never left you wanting,” he purred, closing his lips over the pebbled peak of your breast just as he pressed his thumb over the pearl at the top of your sex, stoking a growing fire inside of you that threatened to burn you up from the inside out if he didn’t tend to it.
He shifted above you on the couch, sliding your legs further open with his knees pressing against your thighs, opening you up so he could slowly dip two fingers into the slick entrance of your sex. You clutched onto him, abandoning your hold on his hair to grip his broad shoulders, whimpering and sighing in turn as he expertly brought you closer and closer to your release.
And only when liquid heat finally crashed through you, all-encompassing and so powerful that you cried his name into his mouth as he claimed your passion for his, did he fully sheath himself with you.
His answering groans of pleasure were delivered into the sweat-dampened skin of the hollow your throat, his hands holding your hips steady as he simply held himself still through the aftershocks of your ecstasy. And just as you were melting into the soft give of the couch beneath you, your gripping fingers smoothing over the taut muscles of his back, did he begin to take you as he desired.
“I need you, love,” he growled, nipping gently at your jawline before bringing his head up to gaze into your eyes, the intensity of his desire stark in the green depths.
Your hands hooked onto the cut muscle at his waist and you urged him deeper into you, making his eyes widen slightly. “Then take me, Loki.”
He kissed you, quick and hard, your tongues dueling as his hips snapped against yours at an almost punishing pace. It was all you could do to hold onto him for the ride, wrapping your arms and legs around him until he cried out your name in turn, his body coiling and shuddering before he sank into your loving embrace.
*****
Later, as you snuggled into him, still basking in the afterglow of truly fabulous sex, you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “So you’re on board, then? With a party? For your birthday?”
“As long as there’s cake,” he answered. Your eyes were closed but you heard the smile in his voice clear as day.
“And I can invite your friends?”
A low rumble moved his chest slightly under your ear as he chuckled. “I do not have friends.”
“You do so.” You drilled a finger into his stomach, making him jerk and laugh in surprise. You’d never tire of his easy laughter that seemed to only come out around you. “The Avengers.”
“Those peasants.” But there was no heat to the words, and you knew that he was really beginning to feel a kinship with the Stark Tower Residents, whether he liked it or not. “And my brother will have to attend, I suppose.”
“He will. Just picture his face if he was left off the guest list.” And you could imagine it, easily. Thor was such an overgrown puppy and when he looked sad it was unbearable.
Loki played with your hair, the familiar gesture soothing. “Very well, kitten. I can deny you nothing. I ask only that that manchild Stark not be involved with the planning.”
You smiled. “I agree. Being micromanaged by Tony is enough to put me off a party mood. So no danger there.”
“It’s settled, then. There shall be a Midgardian party. For me.” He hummed, thinking it over. “I have never had such a thing.”
You snuggled into him, your heart wrenching. “Not even on Asgard?”
“Aesir are not much for parties. There were festivities, but they were family affairs, rather than singular birthday celebrations.” He dropped a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you, kitten. For thinking of me.”
Your heart squeezed as you tilted your head up and met his lips with yours. “You can thank me if you still feel this happy after a couple of hours with your favourite peasants.”