[ Chris has trained himself out of being possessive through sheer necessity, but there's still that little coal of avarice that burns in his chest, that looks at something he likes and thinks mine, you're mine and nobody else's.

If Loki really is a god, he knows the idea of laying claim to him is laughable. Chris was raised by a theology professor, was taught about all sorts of different religions from the first day he could comprehend language, and understands the basic rules of them all: you belong to your god, your god does not belong to you.

Well. He'll see about that.

He laves apologetic kisses into the fading bite mark as Loki takes his hand in his, distracted by examining the indentations in that cool, pale skin, torn between satisfaction and consternation. He's a good man. He prides himself on being a Good Man, he shouldn't like to see that he's caused damage or pain, but he can't help but be pleased to see he's left a mark on the body in his bed.

The slick in his hand is definitely enough to draw his attention away, though. ]

You think I don't have lube? [ He doesn't, but that's neither here nor there.

Rubbing his fingers together consideringly, feeling the slip and slide of whatever it was Loki just coated his hand with, he makes himself slow the steady hunch of his hips, grinding their rocking back down to a halt despite the aching need apparent in every line of Loki's body. ]

I don't know, baby, you were very naughty today. Do you think you deserve to get what you want after all that?