You barely get the door shut before Loki slams you against it, his lean body pinning yours, one hand gripping your throat just tight enough to make your pulse race. “On your knees,” he growls, voice low and filthy. “I’ve been thinking about that mouth all day.”
You drop fast, fingers already working his leather pants open. His cock springs free, thick, hard, the head already slick. You wrap your lips around it without hesitation, sucking him deep while he fists your hair and fucks your throat in short, rough thrusts. “That’s it, take it all,” he snarls. “Such a greedy little slut for a god’s cock.”
He doesn’t let you finish him. Instead he yanks you up, spins you around, and bends you over the nearest table. Your pants are ripped down in one impatient tug. Two long fingers shove inside you without warning, pumping hard, scissoring you open while his thumb circles your clit. “Already dripping,” he laughs darkly. “You’re going to take every inch.”
He replaces his fingers with his cock in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out at the stretch, but he doesn’t slow down. He fucks you like he owns you—deep, punishing strokes that make the table creak. One hand stays in your hair, the other reaches around to slap your ass hard enough to sting. “Louder,” he demands. “Let the whole palace hear what a whore you are for me.”
He pulls out only to flip you onto your back on the table, legs shoved wide. He slams back in, hips snapping fast, eyes glowing with mischief and lust. “Look at you,” he pants, “taking my cock so fucking well. This cunt was made for me.” His thumb works your clit again, relentless, until your orgasm crashes over you. You clamp down around him, vision whiting out, but Loki just laughs and keeps pounding through it.
He doesn’t come yet. Instead he pulls you off the table and onto the floor on all fours, mounting you from behind again, even rougher this time. One hand reaches under to pinch your nipples, the other wraps around your throat. “Come again,” he orders. “Come on my cock or I’ll keep you here all night.”
You do, shaking and sobbing with pleasure, and only then does he let himself go. He buries himself deep and fills you with hot pulses, growling your name like a curse. When he finally pulls out, he doesn’t leave you on the floor. He lifts you, carries you to the bed, and lays you down almost gently.
“Still with me?” he murmurs, voice softer now but still rough. You nod. He cleans you with a warm cloth he magics into existence, then slides in behind you, one arm draped possessively over your waist. “Good girl,” he whispers against your neck. “Rest. I’m not nearly done with you tonight.”
