[ Not to say that Loki isn't clearly a consummate actor — Chris will probably never forget the coquettish display in the market as Loki draped himself over Chris's side and all but fluttered his eyelashes at the jewelry seller to fully embody the illusion of the ditzy, harmless ingenue — but it's nearly impossible to hide that kind of shiver and blush, and if Chris wasn't feeling fond and indulgent to the apparent godling perched in his lap before, he sure is now.
It's been a long time since Chris considered himself even remotely religious, and he's certainly not superstitious (no more so than any other sailor might be, at least), and he's never heard of Loki or his myriad titles, but based on the evidence of his ability to manipulate reality, the lifting of the mirror, the creation of the portal, the banishment of his clothes, it doesn't feel completely off-base to accept that maybe, just maybe, there is something going on here that all of Chris's state-of-the-art science can't quite explain.
Oh, and there's the "thousands of years old" and "traveled through dimensions" thing to consider, too.
Thinking about it makes his brain hurt, so he's going to give that up immediately and instead focus on the here and now, namely, the look Loki gives him as he shoves at his chest with hands sporting the same kind of varnish that Una favors, the prim cadence to his voice wildly out of sync with the heat in his eyes.
Chris grins at him. ] I'm starting to get it, yeah. [ He lets himself be pushed, but not before stealing another heady kiss, as well as bussing one to the soft warmth in Loki's cheek — it's cute! — before collapsing back onto the bed beneath him so he can fully admire the sight that is Loki perched on his hips, shirtless and tousled from Chris's wandering hands, that blue shimmering bracelet on his wrist the only hint of color in an otherwise stark palette. ] I want that too.
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It's been a long time since Chris considered himself even remotely religious, and he's certainly not superstitious (no more so than any other sailor might be, at least), and he's never heard of Loki or his myriad titles, but based on the evidence of his ability to manipulate reality, the lifting of the mirror, the creation of the portal, the banishment of his clothes, it doesn't feel completely off-base to accept that maybe, just maybe, there is something going on here that all of Chris's state-of-the-art science can't quite explain.
Oh, and there's the "thousands of years old" and "traveled through dimensions" thing to consider, too.
Thinking about it makes his brain hurt, so he's going to give that up immediately and instead focus on the here and now, namely, the look Loki gives him as he shoves at his chest with hands sporting the same kind of varnish that Una favors, the prim cadence to his voice wildly out of sync with the heat in his eyes.
Chris grins at him. ] I'm starting to get it, yeah. [ He lets himself be pushed, but not before stealing another heady kiss, as well as bussing one to the soft warmth in Loki's cheek — it's cute! — before collapsing back onto the bed beneath him so he can fully admire the sight that is Loki perched on his hips, shirtless and tousled from Chris's wandering hands, that blue shimmering bracelet on his wrist the only hint of color in an otherwise stark palette. ] I want that too.