As soon as I thought of Finn, I pushed him from my mind. I didn’t want to think of anything. I didn’t want to feel anything except Loki. The exhaustion of the night was pushed away as something surged through, something warm and hungry.
Loki kissed me more deeply and pushed me back on the bed. He wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me up and pulling me farther onto the bed. I clung to him, my hands digging into his bare back. The scars felt like braille under my fingers, scars he’d gotten to protect me.
“Wendy,” he murmured as he kissed my neck, his lips trailing all over my skin and making it tremble.
He stopped kissing me long enough to look at me. His light hair fell into his eyes. Something about the way he looked at me, his eyes the color of burnt honey, made my heart beat faster.
It was like I’d never truly seen him before. All his pretenses had fallen away, his smirk, his swagger, were all gone. It was just him, and I realized that this might be the first time I was really seeing him.
Loki was vulnerable and kind and more than a little frightened. But more than that, he was lonely, and he cared about me. He cared about me so much it terrified him, and as much as that should’ve scared me too, it didn’t.
All I could think about was that I’d never seen anything more beautiful. It felt strange thinking of a boy that way, but that’s what he was. Looking down at me, waiting for me to accept him or push him away, Loki was beautiful.
I reached for him and touched his face, almost astonished that he could be real. He closed his eyes and kissed the palm of my hand. One of his hands was on my side, and his grip tightened, sending hot shivers all through my body.
“I hate to even ask this but…” Loki trailed off, his voice husky. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I want you, Loki,” I said before I could let myself think about anything.
I wanted him, needed him, and for one night I refused to think about the consequences or the repercussions. I just wanted to be with him.
Loki smiled, relieved, and he almost seemed to glow. He bent down, kissing me again, only more fervently and deeper.
His hand slid under my nightgown, strong and sure on my thigh. I loved his strength and power, and the way I could feel it in even his smallest touches. He tried to hold back, to be gentle so he wouldn’t hurt me, but when he tried to slide off my panties, he tore them in half.
I took off my nightgown, slipping it up over my head, because I didn’t want him ripping that too. He tried to be gentle with me, and some part of me did want him to be, because that’s the way I thought my first time should be. But we were both far too eager.
He started out slow, trying to ease himself in me, but I moaned in his ear, gripping tightly onto him, and any pretense of restraint was gone. It hurt, and I buried my face into his shoulder to keep from crying out. But he didn’t slow, and very soon, the heat grew inside me. I was glad he didn’t slow. Even the pain felt like pleasure.
Afterward, he collapsed on the bed next to me, both of us gasping for breath. We’d knocked the bed off kilter, and I vaguely remembered hearing the sound of a board cracking, so we might have broken it. The red curtains of the four-poster bed had been tied open, but they had come loose, so they closed around the bed.
A few candles lit the room outside, but on the bed, we were shrouded in the warm red glow as the light flickered through the curtains. It felt sheltered, like a warm cocoon, and I don’t think I’d ever felt more content or safe.
I lay on my back, and Loki moved next to me, almost encircling me. One arm was behind my neck, and the other one was draped over my belly. I wrapped my arms around his so I could hold him closer to me.
Nestled in his arms this way, the scar on his chest was right next to me. I’d never seen it this close before. It looked so jagged and rough. It slashed at an angle, starting right above his heart, and stopping below his other nipple.
“Do you hate me?” I asked quietly.
“Why on earth would I hate you?” Loki asked, laughing.
“Because of this.” I touched his scar, and his skin trembled around it. “Because of what my father did to you over me.”
“No, I don’t hate you.” He kissed my temple. “I could never hate you. And it’s not your fault what the King did.”
“How did you get this?” I asked.
“Before he decided to punish me, the King considered execution,” Loki said, almost wearily. “He used a sword before deciding that torture might be more fun.”
“He almost killed you?” I looked at him, and the very thought of Loki dying made me want to cry.
“He didn’t, though.” He brushed back my hair, his fingers running through the tangles of it, and he smiled down at me. “The King couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. My heart refused to give up. It knew I had something to fight for.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” I swallowed back tears and lowered my eyes. “Tonight was… beautiful and amazing, but it was only for tonight.”