"But it would be so fun to shear her head once more.” Loki said bitterly, sarcasm thick in his voice. His thumb rubbed against a non-existent scare under his lip, a shiver going down his spine at the thought of that particular punishment. He shivered as he felt the warmth of Baldur’s magic on his skin and walked around the chair to seat himself on the floor by Nate’s feet. He pressed his back to the arm of the chair and leaned his head against it, closing his eyes. “I’d rather you didn’t. Fight. At all.” he said, thinking of ways and plans to keep Baldur far from any enemy weapon.
"I can persuade you not to do it, but I’d much rather you just listened this time." With a soft simle, Nate’s fingers twined carefully in Loki’s dark hair, combing over his scalp lightly. "I don’t anticipate fighting." he said, a breath ghosting over his lips instead of continued words. "I never make it that far, if you’ll remember."
"Ah, your brothers." Loki said with a sigh, turning to perch on the back of the couch. "Have you talked to Thor?" he asked, trying his best to put his suspicions aside as he twisted to look at Nate. "Who has asked that you fight? You have never been a warrior, not like those other brutes." he asked, conveniently forgetting his own lack of warrior upbringing. Nate and Baldur were better protected than most anyway.
“Talked to Thor? No. His light has diminished significantly since I arrived and I have no intention of making myself known to him, presently. His wife is around, you know. Stay away from her hair, why don’t you?” his words fell out in heavy breaths, tainted with light. “Yes, well we can all be taught to fight, Loki. I shan’t, but it is not impossible.”
"Important is relative. What’s soured your sweet temperament?" Loki asked, leaning against the back of the chair across from Nate. He felt too restless to sit, twitchy and energized with a new flux of magic to his system.
"War— as it does always. I have seen sides grow stronger and more eager for bloodshed, my brothers among them. I’d much rather just sit and let it turn. I am not ready to return to Breiðablik just yet."
"Fucksake Nate!" She called, laughing as she turned to face him and sticking her tongue out impishly. One hand went to smoother her hair, the other stading a decent swipe at his shoulder for scaring her. "Lucky I didnt whack you with something .. though on second thoughts"
A chuckle resonated deep in Nate’s chest as she exclaimed and tried her hand at assault for the act. “Are you going to abuse me now, Fae? Because I scared you?” he chortled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I missed you.”
Loki groaned in disappointment when his hips were pinned back against the wall, fingers clenching around whatever they held in frustration.
Loki dropped his head back down to hide his sharp smirk, looking up at Nate coyly through black bangs with an exaggerated sweet look. “Master.” he whispered sweetly, fingernails digging into Nate’s back as he said it.
Loki felt a petulant look cross his face when Nate stepped back, leaning back against the wall to sprawl wantonly as best he could. Sharp green eyes peered through mussed black hair at Nate, assessing.
Loki felt the beginnings of a sneer tug at his lips and a growl rumble in his chest at the order that seemed to go against the grain of his very being. “And if I will not, Master?” he asked, switching back into playful defiance as he settled the order into his mind. Part of him still fought the command as he slid slowly down the wall until he was kneeling before the one he called Master. “Chaos maker at your feet, God of Lies bare before you.” he rumbled softly, leaning forward to nuzzle against one strong thigh, fingers of his captured hand teasing what flesh they could reach.
Silken words dripping from Loki’s tongue in time with the decadent tremor coiling around Nate’s spine. Peering down at Loki through a curtain of ebony, Nate caught the gleam of enjoyment in emerald irises. The sweetness rang false, though Nate quite enjoyed the honeyed words of such a sharp man.
Auburn hair tossed from his forehead in one swift motion as an uncharacteristic thunder echoed in the depths of Loki’s chest. Speckled irises watched Loki as he defied the command in thought, but not action.
"You will kneel." Nate professed, the distinct warmth of Baldur threading through the assertion.
Lacing slender fingers through sable hair, Nate exhaled a moan meant to remain in his lungs. “That tongue of yours could be put to better use, Loki.” he groaned, gripping satin hair unkindly as the remnants of a smirk rested against his thigh.
Loki gasped as he was pressed bodily against the wall, groaning happily as he tangled fingers in Nate’s belt and ground their hips together, moaning happily as he pressed into the delicious friction.
“Yes, yours.” he hissed, head hitting the wall as he dropped it back, closing his eyes to focus on the delicious touch of the one he loved. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip hard to choke down a sound too pathetic for him to let it free.
“Master, the only one with my leash in hand, keeper of my heart and soul, master of my body.” Loki gasped, hands clutching desperately now as he ground against Nate, positively aching with need. “Fuck me against the wall or bent over my desk, let all those drunken fools outside hear that I belong to you.” he said with a vicious smirk, goading now as he ran a hand up Nate’s chest.
Removing his fingers from Loki’s neck with a huff, Nate let his hands drift slowly up the toned thigh of the man he so desperately wanted in every way know to man and god alike. Pressing his palms firmly against Loki’s hips, Nate grinned. “Ah, ah, careful.”
Nate twined his fingers in the belt doing little more to keep his trousers fixed on his hips than the erection straining against the fabric. “Say it again.”
Tearing the belt from its loops, Nate groaned, tossing it to the ground. Nate flattened his palm against the zipper of the frost giant’s trousers, taking a step back.
"You would like that, wouldn’t you? For me to give you precisely what you want— to show everyone that I desire you and will take you when and where I like." Nate felt his lips sharpen at the corners. "Kneel, Silvertongue." His fingers clasped around Loki’s hand on his chest and acted as a guide as they traveled down his torso, hovering over the button of his trousers. "Kneel.”
"In my own office." Loki snorted as his knees went weak and his back pressed even harder against the wall for support. He grabbed the wrist of the hand clenched around his throat and panted.
“Please,” he grit, body feeling desperately hot.
"Shall I call you Master? Baldur, Nathaniel? Master of the great trickster, the Silvertongue himself? Tamer of the mother of monsters. You who did what no other could do, leashed the terror of Asgard." he coaxed, breathless between the hand at his throat and his accelerated breathing.
Nathaniel pressed Loki against the wall, long fingers wrapped around the god’s slender neck— skin like ice and smooth as porcelain. Nate kicked Loki’s feet together, placing his own on either side, pressing the entirety of himself against the deceptively diminutive frost giant.
“Your office? You say it as if anything that is yours is not also mine— I own you.”
A pleasured groan rasped like velvet against Nate’s tongue; he dipped his head with a grin as Loki spoke. “I do quite like the sound of ‘Master,’” Nate asserted, eyes fixed on the delectably sharp angle at which Loki’s lips quirked. “Silvertongue with a voice like silk;” Nate mused, “do go on.”