Chapter 8
The Asgard Universe - The Twins of Fate Saga - Summary/Content Note
Gwen follows Loki into his chambers and takes a long look around with a small smile. It is exactly what she expected from him.
Loki watches her, leaning back against the door. He can tell by the way her eyes take in the room with that small smile that she's pleased by what she sees. The furniture is elegant; the bed is huge; the windows are draped with rich dark curtains. Even a fire is burning in the fireplace, adding to the comfortable atmosphere.
"Like what you see?" he muses, folding his arms over his chest.
"It's very 'you'. And yet at the same time it feels strange to imagine you here at rest or picking out clothes or doing any other normal things with your guard down like everyone else."
He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"Believe it or not," he says, stepping forward to run his fingers idly over the back of an ornate chair, "I do have moments where I'm just a person." A pause. Then he looks at her, head tilting slightly. "Though I admit, those moments are rare. And usually reserved for people who've earned them." His lips quirk up in a smirk, soft and private.
"It's much easier to imagine you waking up perfectly put together in a perfectly put together room than to try to imagine you getting dressed and leaving a mess behind or anything lying around out of place." She takes a few slow steps around, noticing the little details in the room that show personality, and she likes what she sees.
He watches her, his expression turning curious as she looks around the room. The corner of his mouth quirks up as she makes that comment about him being perfectly put together, his gaze tracing along her form in a slow, languid gesture.
"Would it surprise you to learn that I am, in fact, capable of making and leaving a mess?" he asks, half-teasing. "Don't tell me: you assume I'm never anything but completely together all the time."
"I know you are, but... I think you are more capable and willing to leave a mess when it isn't your space or your things. Your own space and belongings are organized and put away. I've noticed that in every room you've shown me that you spend time in, and I'm also sure that is your doing, not a servant picking up after you."
He smiles slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. She's sharp. He has to give her that.
"That's true. I can't help myself." He glances around the perfectly organized room. "And you're right; servants don't bother with my things. I like to have a certain...order. It helps me think." His gaze shifts back to her. That hint of amusement is still there, and there's something else, too, something almost like appreciation?
"I can imagine that you are also quite possessive of your things. You don't want anyone touching something that is yours, even if it's for a harmless reason like putting it away." She turns to look at him with a knowing smile. "But I'm going to guess that you don't make your own bed."
He raises an eyebrow, surprised by the accuracy of her observation, and then laughs outright at her last remark.
"And here I thought I was good at keeping secrets," he muses, shaking his head with grudging admiration. "But yes. The bed is made for me. Call it a small concession to luxury. Though if you'd like to test that theory about me being possessive... you're welcome to move something and see how long it takes before I put it back."
"I've already moved something while we were talking." She smiles again at him, bigger and mischievously.
He narrows his eyes slightly, his head tilting just the slightest bit to the side as he studies her. He's clearly trying to figure out whether she's bluffing.
"Something, you say. And just where, pray tell, did you move it?" He sounds amused. The idea that she's dared to move something of his is almost amusing.
Gwen walks over and holds out her closed hand towards him. She had picked up a small dagger and tucked it up her sleeve; the pommel cupped in her palm. She turns her hand over and shows him.
He lets out a low, incredulous chuckle, staring down at the dagger she's showing him. He's genuinely impressed. He didn't notice her picking it up at all. He reaches down and takes the dagger from her, his gaze lifting to meet hers. The corners of his mouth tilt up in a smirk.
"Now that was clever." His hand twirls the dagger idly, testing its balance in his hand. "And here I thought you were going to say you moved a book or something. But no. You had to go right for the dagger."
She shrugs. "It was easy to pick up and conceal. Don't worry, I'm not a thief, and I rarely make a habit of messing with people's belongings. I just wanted to see something."
"And what were you trying to see, hm?" he asks, the smirk still on his lips. "If I pay attention enough to notice when something gets moved?" He sets the dagger down on a nearby table, watching her with a gleam in his eyes.
"I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice, but I was impatient and showed you before you could figure it out."
He lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head in amusement at her reply. He should've seen that response coming, honestly. He's already learning how quick and witty she is.
"Impatient, impulsive, and clever. The perfect concoction for trouble." He runs a hand idly along the edge of the table. "And you did all that just to see if I was paying attention to my own things."
"Yes, and to see how easily I could distract you. Think I could do it again?"
He lets out a low, dry laugh, lifting his eyes to meet hers again. There's a challenge in his gaze, and the smirk on his lips is now downright predatory.
"You can try, little vixen." His voice is low, a dare. "I have a feeling it'll take more than moving something to distract me."
"I already did that too." She smiles and holds out her other hand, exactly the way she did with the dagger. She turns it over to reveal a small trinket.
When he sees the trinket in her open palm, his eyes flicker up to hers with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.
"Bloody hell, you're quick," he mutters, eyes glued to the trinket in her hand. He reaches out and takes it, studying it for a moment before looking up at her again. "And just when exactly did you pick this one up?"
"When I walked past your desk just before I picked up the dagger." She raises an eyebrow flirtatiously. "Do you think I picked up anything else?"
His expression shifts from intrigued to openly suspicious, and he doesn't even try to hide the amusement in his voice as he scans her up and down, half expecting her to pull out yet another stolen item.
"You're telling me you only swiped two things?" he drawls. His fingers twitch slightly, as if resisting the urge to check her sleeves himself. "For some reason, I don't believe you."
"You're wrong. It was only the two of them." Gwen feels like she understands Loki. If she were worried about him or wrong in her assessments of him, she wouldn't have picked up anything at all, and she wouldn't be teasing him like this.
Another low, dry laugh slips out, and his smirk deepens. He's obviously finding this both irritating and enjoyable at the same time, a mix of annoyance and curiosity. He takes a step toward her, his eyes still fixed on hers as he leans against the table next to them.
"No more little trinkets for me to worry about?" he murmurs, eyes roaming over her face. "You're not hiding something else up your sleeve, are you, little vixen?"
"Want to check?" She holds her arms out towards him.
He smiles slightly, his gaze flickering down to her outstretched arms. The offer is almost too tempting. His hands twitch once more, but he keeps them firmly at his side.
"Oh, I do. I absolutely do," he tells her, his voice low and rough. He's still leaning casually against the table, but his eyes are locked on her arms, scanning for any hint of anything else she might have hidden there.
"These Asgardian dresses are great for hiding things. Perhaps you should watch out for actual thieves around here."
He snorts softly at her words, his gaze still roving over her dress as if he's trying to figure out if there is anything hidden in it.
"Real thieves I can handle. It's a clever little minx like you I have to watch out for." He glances up to look at her face, a slight smirk on his face. "What's next, hm? A dagger up your skirt?"
"That is where I would keep one in this dress, if I needed to. But there is no dagger. I didn't take anything else, and I won't take anything else."
A beat of silence passes as his gaze flickers up and down her dress again. He's clearly taking his time, his gaze lingering on her hips in particular. He smirks, pushing himself up off the table.
"I'm almost inclined to believe you. Almost." He closes the distance between them. "But I have one more place I need to check first." He steps right up to her, close enough that the edge of his boots touches her shoes. He looks down at her, the smirk still on his face. "Turn around."
Gwen chuckles. They agreed to spend the night together simply in each other's company, and she would not be a quick conquest for Loki. If she had wanted that, she could have had it, but she actually likes him. Just because she didn't want this to be easy and over quickly with him doesn't mean that everything is off the table. No, she knows exactly what she is doing. She turns around without protest.
He watches her turn for him, his gaze roving over the back of her body. She's just as lovely from the back as she is from the front.
"Good girl," he murmurs. One of his hands lifts and slowly slides down along the curve of her hip, fingers trailing over the back of her thigh. He's being careful, and he's taking his time, checking all areas where she might have a hidden weapon.
As his hand drifts lower, grazing the underside of her thigh near the back of her knee, he pauses. His fingers brush against something unexpected—cold metal tucked into a hidden strap under the dress.
"Ah." His voice drips with smug satisfaction as he feels the small blade strapped to her thigh. "And what do we have here? Lying to a liar never ends well, darling."
"Borrowed from Natasha. We weren't sure if my powers would work in Asgard, and the team didn't want me at this party without some kind of protection."
He can't help but laugh at her excuse. The image of the assassin giving her a knife with a knowing glint in her eye makes it even funnier.
"Protection." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head slightly. His eyes meet hers again. "From what, exactly?"
"Handsy Asgardians, of course..."
His smirk becomes a grin, clearly enjoying her playfulness even as he shakes his head in mock disbelief.
"And how exactly does this tiny throwing knife protect you from those 'handsy Asgardians?'" he drawls, taking a step closer until he's standing right behind her.
"Stab someone enough times with it, it will be effective protection... but that's not the only one."
She pulls the skirt aside, opening the slit in the dress wider, revealing a band around her thigh holding 3 more knives.
His eyes drop to the knives strapped to her thigh, and for a moment, he just stares. Then he lets out a deep laugh, rich with amusement and appreciation.
"Darling," he says, shaking his head, "you’re even more trouble than I thought." He slides one blade free with deft fingers, testing its weight before looking back at her with wicked amusement. "I like it."
She shivers slightly as he slips one blade from her thigh strap.
"Nat is going to want these back, and you don't want to piss her off."
He lets out another low laugh, his fingers curling around the knife. He's enjoying the way his touch is having an effect on her. The way she shivers when he slides the blade from the strap is very telling…
"You're right, I don't. So I'll gladly give these back so I don't have a knife embedded in my chest in the middle of a party." He grins, taking a small step forward so his chest brushes against her back, his other hand moving to her hips, fingers gliding over her skin. He leans in until his lips are right beside her ear, close enough to feel the heat radiating from them against her skin. His voice is low and rough, with a hint of satisfaction in it. "But you do know that there are a few other places you might have hidden a knife that I'll need to check." His hand slides down from her hip to her thigh, his fingers trailing teasingly along her skin as his body presses against hers from behind.
"I promise there are no more hidden weapons or surprises, but I understand if you want to check thoroughly..." Her breathing and heart rate have picked up, and it's pretty obvious how much he is affecting her.
He can hear the change in her breathing and feel the fast thump of her heart; her body's response to him is clear as day. His hand continues trailing along her thigh, fingertips brushing against the inside of her leg. He leans in even more until his chin brushes lightly against her shoulder, lips nearly grazing her earlobe.
"Oh, I will." His voice is a low growl, full of promise and dark satisfaction. "Thoroughly and very slowly."