Chapter 20
The Asgard Universe - The Twins of Fate Saga - Summary/Content Note
This chapter contains explicit sexual content intended for adult readers (18+).
If that’s not your preference, you can safely skip Chapter 21 — it’s an optional interlude and doesn’t affect the main storyline.
By continuing, you confirm you’re comfortable with mature material.
Otherwise, you can return to the main story.
Hours later, as the moon is high in the sky, Loki slips through the door and into her room. He glances over to see her asleep in the bed. Soft. Naked. Vulnerable. His body heats instantly, his heart slamming against his ribs at the sight of her lying there. His gaze sweeps over her, taking the full measure of her before he quietly strips out of his own clothes and slips into bed next to her.
Gwen senses his presence and rolls towards him. She wakes slowly, her mind becoming more and more aware, and she feels his skin against hers.
Gwen's body is running on instinct now as she feels him. She kisses any part of him that her lips can reach before she swings a leg over him and climbs on top.
Loki groans softly, his hands going straight to her hips as she straddles his lap, his eyes flaring with heat as he looks up at her. He pulls her down for a rough, hungry kiss, his hands greedy and eager as they slide over her bare skin. His voice is low and needy, his body already rigid and hard against her.
"Gods, I need you," he murmurs huskily.
She says nothing as she takes control, her mind on one thing only. She wants him and will not wait. This is pure need running through her. Everything she does is deliberate with one goal in mind: take him and take him hard.
Loki knows this is different from their usual lovemaking. This time, there's something wild in the way she touches him. It's rougher. Harder. His own hands are demanding as he pulls her further down, his body responding easily as if it's been waiting for this all night.
"I—" His words break off in a gasp when her mouth drags over the side of his neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. Her name falls from his lips in a low, ragged curse.
She is demanding and relentless. Focused. She doesn't care about anything but giving and taking pleasure with complete determination. She doesn't hold back a single noise or movement if it'll get them to her goal.
Loki is burning. He's never seen this side of her, the way she takes charge and takes what she wants. She's a force of nature, and she's going to get what's hers. Every sound she makes... his name when it falls from her lips like that... drives him right to the edge, and she's not even close to finished.
"You're mine. I want you. All the time. I need you," Gwen whispers.
Loki's fingers dig into her hips as he looks up at her with something like pure devotion in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He's never been so hers. And he loves it.
"You have me," he growls, voice rough with pleasure and need. "Every damn part of me. I'm yours."
She doesn't let up on him even as she comes. She is desperate for him. She goes again and again until he is spent beneath her.
By the time it's over, he's a boneless, breathless mess, shuddering in the aftermath. There are marks on his skin from her nails and teeth, and he's never been more content in his entire life. He pulls her against him and holds her, his fingers tracing lazy, absent-minded patterns over the small of her back.
"Gwen... the things you do to me."
She is still tired and feels the wine's effects even now, but she is so deeply satisfied.
"You came back so late. Next time I'm going to go with you so I can have you right when I want."
Loki nuzzles the side of her neck with a lazy, pleased hum. He's tired too, but he's also absolutely and completely happy where he is, wrapped around her.
"Mmm... tempting. But we both know I'd never get anything done if you were there." He punctuates this with a slow, lingering kiss to the hollow beneath her ear. "I'd be too distracted by how much I want to fuck you senseless against every available surface."
A naughty smile curls up at the corner of her mouth. "Please do."
Loki chuckles darkly, tilting his head to look at her expression—her smirk, the mischief in her eyes. She's stunning like this.
"Oh? So now you're asking me to sabotage my own diplomatic efforts just because you like the idea of being fucked on some lord's priceless antique desk?" His fingers trail down her spine with deliberate slowness. "I didn't realize I'd married such a menace."
"Oh, yes." She leans in to breathlessly whisper in his ear. "And when you are king, I'm going to have you every single way on that throne."
Loki lets out an involuntary shiver as he processes her words, the sound turning into a low growl. The image of having her in the throne room like that…
"How am I supposed to concentrate during those meetings when all I can think about is you bent over that damn throne? You're trying to get me in trouble."
"Bent over it, on your lap, on my knees, on your knees..." Her breathing gets harder again as she pictures every position on that throne.
A strangled moan leaves his lips, and he tightens his grip on her, his body responding instantly with heat and need. He's never going to be able to hear the word 'throne' without getting hard now…
"Stop. You can't tell me these things when I'm this tired. Damn it all, it's not fair. You're trying to kill me here."
She sighs and rolls her eyes with playful exasperation. "Fine, go to sleep. But I expect to be woken up if you have a desire."
He huffs, pinching her waist lightly before curling around her with a mock-indignant sigh.
"Selfish. You've already wrung me dry and now you're demanding more? Cruel woman." But there's laughter in his voice as he pulls the furs over them both, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "I'll wake you."
"Good."
She smiles and gives him another kiss before wrapping herself around him, ready to go back to sleep.
Her fleeting, tipsy thought of Einarr was nothing. He might like her, but she knows no one can fuck her like Loki does.
He holds her a little tighter, the warmth and weight of her body in his arms calming something in him that had been on edge, though his thoughts keep straying to her words and the way they've left him aching and sensitive. She's asleep before long, her breathing slow and steady.
He doesn't sleep for a while. He's still too tense. He lies there in the dark, holding her and trying to ignore the thoughts of all the ways he's now planned to have her in the godsdamn throne room.