ikols: looking for a cheap thrill (dimming headlights)
— ᴄᴏᴠᴇᴛᴏᴜs ᴍᴀɢᴘɪᴇ. ([personal profile] ikols) wrote in [community profile] riverviewlogs 2017-04-07 01:28 am (UTC)

[ Kill him. Win.

The whisper is age-old and so papery-thin in the back of his mind, where ancient memories curdle in a spiteful black ball, that he sucks in a quiet noise at the touch of their lips. He has to take a moment to refute it (I'm not a murderer, not really) as the lights swim and the magnitude of sharing a kiss rakes through the alleys of his mind, inherited and new. He blinks rapidly and shuts his eyes to focus instead on the warm supplication (He owes us this) that feels like acceptance (He won't keep us). Loki parts their lips by tipping his head back to catch a breath, then presses one in from the opposite side to quiet the restless murmurings in his head.

They hiss into silence like a pit of snakes disappointed that he won't fall, not today, leaving him free to brush his fingers through Tony's hair and paw along his waist, up and down to feel the strong body beneath that shirt. The music returns to Loki's ears and his weight sinks in at last, vulnerable from chest to belly to groin and arching in defiantly as ghosts simmer, comfortable even though apprehension lurks in the eaves of each new, bold touch. ]

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