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It’s messed up, Sylvie knows — the things that Loki lets her do to him.
More than that, the things that he encourages her to do to him. The things that he asks for — all manner of desires and proclivities and debaucheries — eager for all of the pain and the pleasure that Sylvie can give to him.
That she wants to give to him.
Perfectly balanced.
Right now, though -- right now -- Loki is panting and each exhale contains just he barest edge of a whine, and Sylvie snaps her hips against him — quick and punishing — just to see if she can make him even louder.
She grins when it it works, just like she knew that it would.
His skin is slick with sweat, and Sylvie runs her fingertips down the bumps of his spine, and the delicate contact only makes him grind his hips against her in what Sylvie recognizes as the desperation that it is.
Loki’s eyes had been bright and curious when she had presented the cage to him earlier in the day. And it isn’t like that hadn’t done this sort of thing with magic before, of course, but Sylvie can’t deny that this is one of those situations where the real thing is undeniably better. Seeing him locked away like this — the way that he had gasped and grunted with arousal and discomfort and helplessless when she had first locked it into place — made Sylvie throb at the apex of her thighs with a keen sense of arousal. In fact, it was almost enough to make her rethink her entire plan right there and then.
And though she’s never been a patient woman, this here — this is better than that immediate satisfaction that she had craved, Sylvie has to admit.
Because he is gorgeous like this. Every single muscle held tense and straining while he impales himself on her cock, over and over again. Well, not her cock, of course. It had been tempting, but she knows herself well enough to admit that she wouldn’t have been able to get the full effect here. Hels, she’s barely able to hold on to her control even with just the harness rubbing against her as he grinds backwards against her pelvic bone. No, this is about him, not her, and she needs to be perfectly clear-headed in this moment.
(Besides, it isn’t as if she hadn’t already came twice before strapping on her harness. And she shivers even now, with the memory of the way that she had leaned forward with her forearms on either side of his narrow hips so that she could press her panting mouth against his caged cock while she rode his face. He had twitched and shuddered so beautifully for her as her warm breath ghosted over his steel-encased skin, and the noises that he made against her soaking wet cunt were almost enough to push her over the edge that second time, just by themselves.)
He’s making those noises for her again now, and Sylvie can’t help grinding her hips in shallow thrusts, seeking just a bit more friction against her throbbing clit.
”Fuck — Sylvie,” Loki lets out with a little sob, and his entire body tightens as he shudders, and suddenly Sylvie can’t stand it anymore. She needs to see him — needs to see just how wrecked she’s made him — and so she pulls out suddenly, which abruptly cuts off Loki’s little exhaled whine midway through.
“It’s okay,” she says, her voice low and hoarse, but with a soothing with a soothing cadence that she punctuates with a gentle stroke over his hip. “I just need you to turn over for me, yeah? I want to see how pretty you are like this.”
When Loki flips over, it’s so fast that he nearly unseats Sylvie from the bed, and she can’t help chuckling, low and pleased. He does look entirely undone — tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and his abs twitching with the strain of tensing with pleasure and sensitivity.
But then her eyes sweep down to the patch of dark curls between his legs, and she can’t help gasping just a little bit at the sight of him. His cock is flushed deep red — almost a purple — and straining at the bars of the cage, bulging just a bit in the gaps between the metal. A thin thread of precum stretches from the head of his cock down to his thighs, and Sylvie reaches out her index finger to collect it.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Sylvie says with an air of concern and sympathy, though she knows that she’s entirely given away by the cruel grin that she can’t quite wipe from her lips. She runs her finger, still wet with his precum, over his swollen testicles, and it makes Loki’s hips surge up towards her at the light contact. And she can’t help indulging him for a moment; she cups his balls in her hand and massages lightly, and she feels her cunt clench down eagerly around nothing at the way that he reacts to her. The way that his eyes flutter shut and he presses more firmly into her hand — desperate for any contact at all with his most sensitive parts.
She rolls her fingers carefully over his scrotum once more, before taking her hand away altogether, and she grins even wider at the way that Loki’s eyes snap open as he lets out a low groan of disappointment.
“You want to come, don’t you? Desperately, it looks like,” she says, consideringly, and she’s rewarded when Loki merely presses his hips closer to her in response. She hums, as if in thought, before finally continuing. “I’ll allow it this time, if you can. But it’s going to have to be on my cock.”
At this, Loki’s hips buck up towards her once again, urgent. “Please, Sylvie — please.”
At least he knows how to ask nicely…
She does add just a bit more lube to her cock before easing back into him — this could be very quick, or it could be frustratingly long — and Loki sighs with a kind of relief once she’s fully-seated once again within him. He takes her cock so nicely, too, with the way that he works his hips against hers as she kneels above him with his legs spread and pulled up towards his chest.
The position also gives her quite the view, as well, and she can watch every single emotion and sensation flit across his face — the sighs and the grimaces and the way that his eyes scrunch tightly closed in concentration. He can’t keep still either, and his hands fist in the sheets for a moment before he moves them over so that they’re resting on her thighs, fingernails digging into her skin rhythmically along with her thrusting.
“Feels so good,” he chokes out after a minute like that. His eyes are still closed but he tightens his fingertips into the sensitive skin of Sylvie’s thighs, and she knows that she’ll have marks there once they’re done. “I like it — I like belonging to you — like this. Just like this.”
And Sylvie is impossibly turned on — gods, she thinks that maybe she can come just like this, just watching him — but she still feels a lump in her throat at his admission. “You are. You are mine,” she says, her voice hoarse and raspy, but she feels his fingers tighten against her thighs again in response.
She can see just how close to the edge that he is — his abdominal muscles are so tight and tense and his head is thrown back against the sheets, eyes screwed closed. More than that, she watches as his cock twitches in its cage — tight enough that he can’t quite get hard, though she can see how swollen he is, and knows that he must be impossibly sensitive. A pool of precum forms at the tip of the cage, before spilling over, dripping down his shaft and on to his thigh.
“You’re going to come for me like this,” Sylvie says, a simple affirmation of what she can already tell to be true. “I see how much you want it. How desperate that needy cock of yours is for release. That soft little dick is going to spill all over you just like this.”
And — oh — her words do something to him — to both of them, really. Loki is suddenly frantic as he works his hips against her, meeting every one of her thrusts with one of his own. She’s not much better, though, and she has to use every scrap of concentration that she has left to keep her pace steady and deep, instead of the graceless rutting that she longs for to bring herself off against him.
So much for keeping my head clear.
But she can feel the way that Loki’s motions are focusing — like he’s digging deep into himself for release that is just beyond his reach. And she can’t decide whether she wants to watch his face, a perfect mask of concentration and pleasure, or his cock as it swells and strains against the bars of the cage, so she settles for letting her eyes flit between the two of them eagerly.
She sees it though, the way that Loki’s mind grasps on to what must be the perfect mix of pleasure and pain, and his eyes roll back in his head and his breath catches in his throat as he stops even breathing as he chases the peak of pleasure.
“That’s it, there you are,” she gasps out, barely a whisper, and she’s not sure if the words are intended for him, or for herself.
She watches, though, as his face twists, overwhelmed, and his mouth falls open in a desperate scream — loud and hoarse — that is suddenly choked off mid-cry as his body is wracked by orgasm. And it must be impossibly strong and overwhelming, from what Sylvie can tell, with the way that his entire body goes completely still and taut as cum pours out of his still-soft cock in little spurts that splatter over his thighs, and Sylvie’s as well.
It’s mesmerizing — his entire body quakes with little twitches that each culminate in a surge of cum from his caged cock, as he gasps and moans in pleasure. His fingernails are tightly embedded in Sylvie’s thighs but she can’t bring herself to care, not with how gorgeous he looks as he gives himself entirely over to the pleasure.
And he just keeps coming, and Sylvie can’t help grinding herself against the harness, as her body seeks out her own release, almost entirely outside of her will. Loki is still letting out little sobs as he twitches and shakes, and it only takes a few purposeful rolls of her own hips to push Sylvie over the edge with a gasp, as well, the harness working against both of them to draw out each of their orgasms.
She recovers before Loki does, too, though that doesn’t surprise her in the least, and she carefully slips the toy out of him before lowering his legs down to the sheets gently. He’s still panting and letting out the occasional groan, so she takes a second to loosen the harness and slip it off her hips and wipe herself off with a couple tissues before lowering herself down to the bed next to him. He curls into her body in response, so she wraps her arms around him tightly.
And gods, she’ll never admit it, but she loves when he gets like this. So overwhelmed and sensitive that all he can do is cling to her while he finds his way back into his own body. It’s a good feeling — for him, clearly — but for her, as well. The feeling of being wanted — of being needed.
She waits until his breathing evens out and he loosens his grip on her before she speaks. “Need to get that thing off and get you cleaned up,” she says, barely a whisper in the darkness of their bedroom.
“Mmmhmm,” he hums, before finally finding his voice, a bit hesitant. “I wouldn’t mind putting it back on after getting clean, though.”
And — oh — if that isn’t a thought, and it makes something spark in Sylvie, both on a physical and an emotional level.
“We can. Though we should probably go slow at first,” she allows, after a moment. And she definitely means in a physical sense, but she feels Loki’s breath catch in his through and she gets the double meaning just a second after he does.
“Slow as you like, love,” he murmurs, and tugs her closer in against him.