ikols | open post | psls

I have no reason to speak honestly.

[ He shrugs in place, insolent and bored to the best degree he can affect. Loki brushes a leg up Chris's side, heel on the back of his thigh gliding down to hook lazily around a knee. ]

No incentive, thus far.

No reason?

[ Time for Chris to affect a pout of his own. He has a suspicion it's not nearly as effective as Loki's, but he's an old man, not an indolent youth flushed prettily with desire. ]

I made you dinner.

[ Technically he made himself dinner and then fed Loki after, but that's not the point. He's planning on making breakfast if he wakes up early enough, that has to count for something, right?

He's about to open his mouth to continue when his communicator chirps from the other room.

Almost instantly, the teasing playfulness slips from his face as he shifts his attention away from the young man in his bed instead towards the door of his bedroom, poised to leap into action if necessary, but he doesn't get up off the bed. Sure enough, after a few more chirps, it falls silent and doesn't start up again, so whatever the message was, it wasn't vital enough to override Chris's DND requests.

Shaking his head a little as if to clear it of cobwebs, he turns back to Loki and smiles. ] Sorry about that. Where were we?

[ The lazy flirtatious air is pebbled apart by the communicator, the way it snags Chris's attention a thorn in Loki's side. He reaches up to cup his cheek and ensure he doesn't look away again, green eyes brighter beneath low lashes. ]

You were going to have the best sex of your life.

I've lived a long life, sweetheart...

[ It's hard to remember Loki is apparently thousands of years old and that, by comparison, Chris is just a baby. He's starting to feel his age, much to his chagrin, starting to feel the aches and pains that come with settling into middle-age, with choosing a career that puts him in the path of physical danger with alarming regularity.

Turning his head a little, he kisses the heel of Loki's palm, his eyes closing in a too-long blink as he breathes in the smell of his skin as if to ground himself. ]

Yes, I'm sure they were all amazing. Do you know what I love doing in bed with the man I adore? Discussing his previous saddles.

[ The snerk expression Loki wears eases off as he raises a hand straight up, green magic coalescing in his palm. ]

This setting isn't really conducive to helping you relax, so allow me ...

[ A shimmering green wave fans out as he gestures with his arm, the arc of it continuing all around the room turning Chris's quarters into somewhere far, far grander. The wing of Asgard where Loki stays when at home in the Golden Realm is just that, golden, with veins of rich ore sparkling through the lofty pillars and sweeping tapestries of rich emerald draped haphazardly around the walls, each depicting one of his animals, a fox or horse or snake. The walls are piled with this and that, swords and artefacts (none of his best or worst), and the balcony is as wide as the two huge doors flanking it, letting in summer sunshine and a view of periwinkle. A rainbow arcs up on the ceiling, reflected from the Bifrost below. Silky golden sheets and deep fur throws are their bed, luxurious in the very real feel and scent: pine and apples, honeyed fruitcakes too. The bed itself sits in the middle of a cavernously round room, somewhere at the top of a tower.

Loki flops his arm back to the bed. ]

Welcome to Asgard ... or the very closest approximation of it.

[ It's an illusion, nothing more, but Loki's illusions are unparalleled tricks on the senses and he preens with pride. ]

[ That hadn't quite been what he meant, but before he can regroup to explain himself, Loki is throwing a hand up and throwing that green magic of his out from his palm, a spreading wave covering all of Chris's bedroom, coating it, changing it.

He'd be more alarmed if he hadn't seen Loki's magic before; his only real question is if they've been actually transported off his ship or if this is a situation like Loki's clothes had been before, real to the touch but easily changed or removed with just a thought from the young god.

As someone who appreciates artistry in all its forms, Chris allows himself to pull back and look around, assuming that Loki wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to create this setting for them if Chris wasn't allowed to admire it.

It's honestly a little overwhelming, the sumptuous grandeur of it all, from the silken sheets and the heavy tapestries, the glimmering prismatic light splashed across the ceiling and the glittering winks of gold in the stone that surrounds them. Even the smells seem real.

Prince of Asgard. Well. That does make this make a little more sense; if Chris had to picture what the rooms of a prince would look like, he might imagine something pretty similar to this. His imagination would be nothing but a pale imitation of the reality, though, especially this reality.

Smiling, a pleased and somewhat awed wonder coloring his expression, Chris turns back to Loki, but when he speaks, he says nothing about the room around them. ]

You adore me?

[ With a growl he throws a thigh over Chris to push him back into the furred unicorn-rug and guides that comically slick hand around to his neglected ass, arching his spine. ]

Shut up and kiss me, Chris.

[ Not that Loki waits for permission, rocking down to get their cocks realigned in a heady drag of hot precome, trying to re-inspire the same urgency that lived before the damnable comm went of. ]

[ Laughing as he gets flipped, Chris obligingly trails his fingers down to where Loki so desperately wants them, stroking and petting for a moment before giving in and dipping the tip of one finger past that tight clench of muscle. ]

You really are a prince, aren't you?

[ No one else can be that demanding, he's sure of it. Luckily, Chris finds it incredibly charming, as evidenced by the look on his face as he watches Loki shift above him, the light of the Bifrost reflecting in shards across his face making his eyes look painfully blue and painfully fond.

Tangling his free hand in that silky black hair, he pulls Loki down to acquiesce to his demands of a kiss. ]

I told you! Mmph.

[ His laughter turns into mock-grumbles against Chris's lips for moments before Loki melts into him, sucking in a sharp breath when breached. He rolls his hips to afford the best angle and shuffles his knees in the plush bedding for a better brace, kisses losing their focus as his lashes flutter with the sway of his concentration. Chris looks very fine beneath him, blue skies in his gaze and warm skin that could bear the sun of Asgard. He's a warrior, in simpler terms, and Loki wants to make his prized, perfect partner sing. ]

That's right, ah. Right there, oh ...

[ Gods help him when he has all of the man buried in his backside. ]

My prince.

[ That's not really how that works, but he doesn't think either of them particularly care at the moment, too busy with other, much more important, matters.

Matters like how Loki's kisses grow sloppier the more distracted he gets, the warm give of his body that Chris swears is getting warmer the more he touches him, the sweet little sounds that spill from his lips as he moves above him to chase his own pleasure even as Chris scrambles to give it, the wide black pupils of those pretty green eyes Chris loves looking at nearly wide enough to reflect back the mirror image of Chris himself.

He moves as quickly as he thinks he can while still trying to hold himself back, trusting in Loki's ability to tell him when it's too much or not enough but not necessarily trusting his own restraint. ]

Yours ...

[ Blissed out on his attentive lover, Loki feels the spiralling ache of finger after finger being added and takes them all with gasps and whines, biting at Chris's lip to distract himself when the strain feels almost too much. Then there's a final give, a need to have Chris that outweighs any lingering discomfort, and he knows he's ready.

He also remembers what Chris said he wanted, so he taps his wrist to get his attention. ]

Let ... Let me get on my knees for you. [ Language feels like mead in his mouth, sticky and slurred from numbing kisses. ] I want that too.

[ Like it takes a few moments for the words to filter through the fog that's clouded Chris's mind, he's slow to respond to Loki's mumbled words, and when he does it's with little more than a long groan.

He doesn't want to let Loki out of his embrace, especially not after all this time, but eventually he convinces his fingers to cooperate and the hand he has clamped down tight on his hip lets go, fingers loosening their almost vice-like grip before smoothing a petting stroke down the line of his smooth, pale thigh. ]

Yeah. [ Very eloquent. ] C'mon.

[ It'll feel so good once they move, he tells himself, once they can bear to. On aching knees Loki crawls to one side away from those large hands and in one long, slow slide he drops his weight to the blankets, the curve of his back offering up his slick, empty ass like a supplicant trying to summon a god. The comparison has him smirking into his pillowed arms. ]

Take what's yours, love.

[ The Asgardian breeze is warm then cool, caressing overheated skin then licking it better with a fresh waft as thin curtains billow into the bedchamber. Idunn's apple garden sends the scent of those sweet fruits in with it and Loki sways his raised hips like the only ruined, filthy creature in the realm, glorying in it. He's fairly confident that even a communicator blowing up wouldn't pry Chris away from him now. ]

[ Sometimes, Chris idly wonders if he's stepped into a dream.

Or maybe, more likely, the Enterprise has sailed into some alien culture's net, fallen unwitting prey to a society that can cast such strong illusions that one's deepest, darkest secret desires are made flesh right before them, casting such a tempting spell that even the strongest of wills can't resist. How else could he explain the sight of someone as beautiful as this lithe young man spreading himself out like a feast just for Chris to enjoy, his hips swaying playfully and toes curling against satin sheets, all but begging him to touch?

He really should be more careful. He knows what societies like the Talosians can do, what they're capable of. He remembers Vina.

But, just like with Vina all those years ago, he's weak in the face of such temptation, and he finds his hands lifting out to touch without regard for what his brain has to say on the matter.

Chris spends most of his life out in the darkness of space, beneath artificial lights. And yet, compared to the milky expanse of Loki's skin, Chris's hands look nearly tanned, sun-dark and hard like he's used to rough work and doesn't mostly just sit at a desk reading and writing reports. Sliding his hands up those hairless thighs, he lets himself look his fill, admiring the sight presented just for him. Digging his thumbs into the crease of Loki's ass, he spreads his cheeks and then just sits there, admiring that sight as well, the evidence of his hard work shining on Loki's relaxed hole.

When presented with such a feast, it would be rude not to partake fully, wouldn't it?

Yes. It would.

Curling his spine, Chris ducks down and drags the flat of his tongue across Loki's perineum and then up across his hole, savoring the salt-sweat taste of his skin. ]

[ If he could memorise the moment where Chris gets behind him and there's the lovely view of him kneading at Loki's ass over the godling's shoulder, he would. That same moment would then be overturned by the sensation of a tongue rolling across the softest, hottest, most vulnerable part of Loki's body, something that hasn't happened in a while even by his own standards of time and age.

A strangled squeak catches in his throat as tension laces up his thighs and he tightens up instinctively, breathing out a shaky moan built from the unexpected onslaught of pleasure. He reaches back to feel for Chris's hair and gets a loose fist secured there, needing to touch some part of him while open-mouthed on the pillows. ]

Chris, fuck ... !

[ Based on his reaction, Chris might assume that Loki's never had someone do this to him before.

Or, at least, not in a while.

A long while.

Which, naturally, means that Chris has to do it again, laving his tongue over the suddenly-tensed ring of muscle he'd spent so long relaxing, muffling a dark chuckle into the rosy skin beneath his lips as Loki gropes behind himself and tangles his fingers in Chris's hair. He'd pull away to murmur some reassurances, maybe to dole out a gentle tease, but that would require actually pulling away, and he doesn't want to do that. So instead he just redoubles his efforts, alternating firm licks with gentle little tickles, the magical slick Loki conjured for him mixing with his saliva until everything is wet and messy and filthy good. ]

[ Sigurd would never behave this way, too much of a man with his puffed-up pride and Aesir-soured sentiments to do as Loki does and debase himself to being so subservient. These are roles Loki owns, proudly for that matter, but the scathing attitudes of the Aesir are very keen even after thousands of years when it comes to sex, and every aspect of Loki has unsettled them for years. Fandral, God of Fertility that he is, isn't given to eating anyone out but a woman, and is clear with his preferences without being derisive, but both of these men are slim pickings and Loki isn't fond of fraternising with mortals who are easily swayed to expect things of him. So, it has been a couple of lifetimes since Loki was treated this well, as if precious and deserving of all pleasure, and he gags on groans as he shifts back in rolling motions to meet Chris's mouth in his desperation to experience something practically new.

He fills the bedchamber with noise, releasing Chris's hair in order to grip the bedsheets beside his head. Panting hard, a shudder goes through him and he pleads into cotton, unashamed in the face of his own hunger. ]

Please, I'm close.

[ Already, yes. Once he feels Chris really going places with that tongue, he fears it'll be over for orgasm number one.

[ It doesn't take long until Loki is arching up into him, his back a beautiful tense bow as his hips chase Chris's mouth, his face pressed into the bed presumably to hide his face from the outside world. That someone as inherently, joyously shameless as Loki feels the need to hide his face from this is truly a heady realization, making Chris's cock jump eagerly between his thighs, something he does his best to ignore for now.

He's got more important things to focus on right now.

Lost in his pleasure, that first jolt of surprised tension has well and truly melted out of Loki's muscles, and Chris alternates sweeping long gentle strokes of his hands up his thighs and up over his back, petting him and pressing his chest down some more to accentuate the angle of his hips. ]

Good.

[ He bites the swell of muscle beside his cheek for a moment, just long enough for the hand still covered in residual slick to lift so he can slip his fingers back inside Loki's body once more, probing in deep as Chris resumes licking and sucking at the ring of muscle stretched around his knuckles. ]

[ Boastful as he is about his grand age, there's no real way of masking how he reacts anymore so he falls into it whole-heartedly with every twisting, writhing push against Chris's hands that hold him down in order to keep him at the right height elsewhere. Face-down and ass-up, Loki's knees slide through the blankets in order to keep himself in place and he drools into the pillow against his cheek as thick, firm fingers start to work him up too, giving him something to finally bear down on. The chanted mantra of Christopher, my Chris can't be stopped, interspersed with hitched little noises and rolling groans all partially muffled in the bed.

When he can't stop the arching of his hips anymore he cries out and begs, tears spiking his lashes, ]

Touch me, please, please, Chris, touch me —!

[ A part of him had been wondering if he could make Loki come untouched just by doing this, but that litany of pleases crumbles whatever reserve Chris might have been able to muster up.

He'll spread Loki out on his bed and test that theory another day, when they aren't quite so desperate. Well. Chris won't be desperate by then. Loki is another story.

Pressing his fingers as deep inside him as he can, Chris reaches between Loki's legs and curls his free hand around the hot length of his hard cock, not even bothering to tease him but shifting straight into a firm, steady stroke. If he wants to come, Chris will help him come. To that end, he rubs his thumb against his perineum, remembering how well that worked last time, and redoubles the efforts of his mouth, firming his tongue and slipping it between his fingers as best he can as Loki squirms and clenches beneath him. ]

[ The way a gasp ripples through every bone in his body and he seizes up with a wail stuffed into a pillow is all because of Chris, from the over-stimulation to the care and attention what feels like everywhere and all at once. The broken sound of Chris's name has him sobbing as he comes in hot splashes all over that hand, hardly able to handle the push of a tongue alongside those long fingers, the throb of arousal pulsing through him to reduce Loki to nothing but nerves and instinct. He thinks about that touch over the soft expanse behind his balls, right where Chris is putting pressure, and how much he wants to feel that in a corridor with Chris's hand stuffed down his trousers because neither of them can help themselves.

Turning his head to drag down short, staccato breaths, he pries his knotted fingers off the blankets and tries to reach for Chris but his arm flops halfway, the softness of post-coital release a golden, heady glow all over from head to foot, but also making him useless at coordinating himself. ]

[ Feeling the way Loki jerks and convulses beneath him feels like victory, sweeter than any wine, more precious than dilithium.

He did that.

Allowing himself the indulgence of milking out those tremors and shakes for as long as he can, Chris keeps flexing his fingers inside Loki and stroking his hand over his cock, but eventually he takes pity on him and slows down until his fingers are still and his hand has dropped away, gentle kisses placed to the curve of Loki's ass and the small of his back as Chris shifts himself up and over so that eventually he's leaning over Loki's prone form and braced on one arm beside him.

He has yet to withdraw his fingers, though. ]

Hi, sweet thing.

[ The illusion around them starts to gain holes, green-limned sections peeling away to reveal the real location of Chris's quarters with Loki unable to keep up the same level of magic while most of his mind was just wrung out of his cock. He licks his dry lips and cranes his head back to find Chris for a kiss, which is when something clicks and he realises with a moan that he's still stuffed with those lovely fingers. ]

Hiiii ...

[ Although his weight sinks to the bed, Loki rocks back tiredly to feel how he's still being filled, unable to get enough. ]

Ahhh, oh. Hi, yes. Hello, lover.

Hi, baby.

[ An absolutely inane conversation for them to be having, but that's alright. Chris's face is wet from nose to chin, Loki has tears clinging to his lashes still, and they're both flushed and panting, coherency can hardly be expected right now.

He twists his wrist to meet the uncoordinated shifting of Loki's hips, sliding his fingers out and then back in again with glorious ease now that he's so relaxed.

Nuzzling a little kiss to the thin skin below his ear, Chris hums. ]

Feeling good?

Mmm? Mmm-hmm.

[ Loki sinks into the bed with only his lazily rolling hips a sign he isn't falling asleep, reduced to being half-hard from the force of his orgasm but still very interested in the way Chris is keeping him primed for more. He hugs his pillow, snuggling back into the kiss at his ear. ]

You can take me, s'okay. M'awake.

[ Sleepy but still horny, which is a blissful mix. ]

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