A/N: Right, so this will be my first multi-chaptered fanfic, I have already written the majority of the story and so I will be updating weekly (Cause there's nothing that annoys me more than when an awesome story doesn't get updated in forever). So I'd love everyone to review, tell me what you think or if you have suggestions or questions, even constructive criticism is helpful. Anyway, enough from me, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, Marvel, any of the character, blah, blah, blah…

WARNINGS: This story WILL contain – smut (lots of smut), language, violence, non-con situations, mentions of torture, and all that other angsty goodness

:)

Chapter 1. The Dreams

It all started with the dreams... the feel of his cool skin pressed against hers, smooth lips and hot tongue ravishing her mouth, chest, stomach. He rolls in her, around her, everywhere. Feverent whispers caress her ears and the friction between their bodies create an electricity that she could never have imagined. And all too soon her burning orgasm rips her violently from that tantalising dream, leaving her with only wet panties and the lingering burn of bright green eyes and the scream of his name on her lips.

Natasha smooths her hand over her frazzled hair and flops back down onto the pillow. She closes her eyes to try and regain control of her erratic breathing, but green eyes smirk down at her from the darkness, so she presses the palms of her hands against her eyelids until that burning green is replaced by flickering white spots.

Natasha slides out from under the covers and fumbles down the corridor in the dark to the bathroom. She flings her wet panties into the hamper with a look of disgust and leans heavily on the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Taking deep, calming breaths and gazing into her own blue eyes, she mentally resurrects the walls around her mind.
It had been months since Thor had taken his brother, bound and muzzled like a rabid dog, back to God-knows-where, and yet that bastard Loki was still managing to somehow play mind tricks on her. These dreams were his doing, she was sure of it, no way would her mind ever think up something as sick and twisted as this.

Her sex life was nothing to get excited about, but she liked it that way. No awkward dates or complicated sex etiquettes, sometimes she'd have a fling with Clint if she felt like it, but she knew there was no way she could ever love him in the way that he loved her. Sure, she cared for him and they made a great team, but she was positive that love could no longer exist for her... she was too dark and twisted a creature for love.

"Love is for children..."

The mantra from her Red Room days echoed in her mind.

She turned on the tap and splashed the cold water onto her face, trying to clear her mind of the dirty dreams. She grabbed a towel and dried her face, glancing back up in the mirror she saw a flash of emerald green eyes and unruly black hair reflected behind her. She spun around with a gasp but there was no one there. She peered more closely into the darkness, waiting for a face to appear again...

'BRIIING!' The sudden loud noise made Natasha jump. She mentally berated herself when she realised it was her phone ringing.

"Hey Nat, just got back from Latveria, did I wake you?"

"Nah, I was already up." Natasha replied as she began dressing herself one-handed.

"Yeah, Doom's been acting up again. Something about a chemical bomb…" Clint told her as she made her way to her living room and curled up on the couch. She knew she wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight so she may as well enjoy the chance to catch up with her partner and closest friend.

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In this one she was running from him. The tranquillity of the evergreen forest with its sun-dappled leaves and choir of birds was harshly disturbed by her bare footfalls and heavy panting. Though she hadn't seen him yet, she somehow knew exactly who she was running from.

She didn't know why, but she had on some ridiculously girly, white frilly dress. That was proof to her that he was controlling her dreams, as she would never in her right mind wear something as, as...cutesy as this.

As Natasha tore through the forest, the moss-covered floor abruptly gave way beneath her feet and suddenly she was falling, falling, the forest becoming a blur of green and gold above her head before she found herself ungraciously deposited on a wooden floor. Natasha groaned and rolled onto her hands and knees.

This may be a dream but apparently she could still feel pain.

She took in her surroundings as she slowly rose to her feet. She seemed to be in a great library, though it was nothing like any library she had seen before. The floors and walls were made of a dark wood but the ceiling must have been at least twelve feet above her head and shone like gold. She could barely make out the figures painted on the bright surface – a mural of some kind.

But the most peculiar thing about the enormous library was that there were no shelves, instead the books seemed to just float. Thousands of books were lined neatly as if the shelves were invisible, but when Natasha curiously reached out a hand it merely passed between one book and the next – there was nothing there.

Inquisitively, Natasha walked down the aisles and aisles of books, all thoughts of her pursuer suddenly gone. She finally came to an opening in the books and found what was obviously a reading area. Two Camelbacked sofas and a chaise lounge surrounded a highly ornamental ebony table on a hand-woven silk rug. All the seats looked like they came right out of an 18th century castle, upholstered in fine red velvet with a dark mahogany finish and golden pillows with little tassels on the corners. Two floor-to-ceiling windows stood behind the sitting area, but the outside light was muted by the fine semi-permeable curtains that billowed gracefully in the gentle breeze. All in all it gave off a largely royal effect.

Natasha wandered over to the chaise lounge and gingerly fingered the intricately carved dark wood of its arm when, without warning, she found herself being flung over the arm and facedown into the lush lounge.

She tried to lift herself up only to find a tight grip on the back of her neck holding her down. She kicked out with her left leg only to have that held fast too. Suddenly she was being hoisted up by her ankle and realised horrifyingly that the flimsy white dress was literally the only thing she was wearing...

"My, my, my." Loki purred as Natasha grabbed at her hem and attempted miserably to cover herself. She tried to kick with her other leg but failed to connect, and she couldn't use her hands without letting go of her dress and exposing herself, so instead she resorted to 'the Death Stare'. But instead of its usual effect, all the Stare got was a chuckle.
"Oh, I do love the feisty ones." He said with a predatory grin.

Gripping her ankle, he flung her into the sofa, sending it toppling backwards to the floor with a crack. In an instant he was on top of her again. He grabbed a fistful of her dress and with one swift motion he tore the fabric from her body. Naked and vulnerable now, she threw a punch that connected with his jaw but he seized both her wrists and pinned them above her head.

She bucked and struggled but her body was trapped beneath his. Loki bent his head and licked a long line from her clavicle to behind her ear, involuntarily she shivered and arched her neck. He chuckled darkly in her ear, a sound that made her fingers tingle and heat pool in her belly.

"Don't struggle," he all but growled, "you know as much as I do that you want this. You can't hide anything from me."
She stopped struggling, captivated by his green eyes that danced with mischief and lust. Unexpectedly his lips crashed upon hers, bruising and passionate, his tongue parted her lips and delved into her mouth, eliciting a moan from her. Her mind was screaming to fight him but for some reason her body wouldn't respond.

He pulled away from her and fixed her with a look so lustful that she thought it would burn a hole right through her. She gasped as he kissed his way down her chest, between her breasts. He let go of her wrists and used his newly freed hands to squeeze her breasts.

As his kisses burned a red hot trail down her stomach, her mind became blank, all thoughts of fighting vanished, along with her sense of wrong and right apparently, because she knew this was wrong but that didn't stop it from feeling so, very, right...

His name fell from her lips as his tongue slipped between her legs. She could feel him smirk against her thigh as his tongue caused her to moan out loud, but she didn't care, just as long as he didn't stop.

She could feel the heat and pressure building like fire in her belly, and she rolled her hips up into him, desperate to feel more of his devilish tongue. Her hands had lain forgotten above her head until she thought to wrap them in his hair, using them to pull his mouth closer.

"Loki, wait..." she gasped. She could feel her climax building but she didn't want this to end, she wanted to experience more of him. But Loki didn't stop, didn't even slow down and all too soon she felt herself falling over the edge, followed by her own voice groaning Loki's name and those green eyes dancing with pleasure...

.

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Natasha opened her eyes to find herself back in her own room. She laid there for a moment, trying to rid her mind of yet another disturbing dream. Her body was heavy with the light sheen of sweat that covered it.

As she moved to find a cooler spot, she felt the sticky wetness between her legs. The sexual tension and the loss of control over her own body infuriated her, and Natasha let the anger build up until she had to jam a pillow over her head and scream in frustration like an angsty teenager. She closed her eyes and waited for her heart rate to slow, when there was a sudden crackling sound. She flung the pillow across the room and tore out of bed and into a fighting stance, only to come face to face with the real-life Loki.

"Good evening, Miss Romanov."

He spread his arms wide in greeting and his grin matched. Natasha stood stunned for a moment before coming to her senses and lunging for the gun on her bedside table, only to find it wasn't there. "Must we really resort to violence?"
She turned back to Loki to find her Glock 26 hovering above his palm, and with one flick of his wrist it disappeared.

Natasha eyed him cautiously, "What do you want?" She growled.

His grin widened and he chuckled in the same way he had in those haunting dreams. "Oh Natasha, I couldn't let you have all the fun by yourself."

She snarled at him, he could see the hatred and loathing behind her eyes. "Bastard." She muttered before aiming a swift roundhouse kick at his head. He evades it easily and laughs, "Violence it is then."

Loki blocks her incoming punches easily, it enrages her the way he so calmly deflects her attacks, so she throws everything at him. Right hook, back fist, knee to the ribs, side kick to the solar plexus. That last one winded him, so she continued her flurry of attacks until finally one of her punches landed on his perfect cheekbone.

The instantaneous change in Loki's expression was frightening. His cocky smirk slid off his face like a fat raindrop down a windowpane and his once mischievous green eyes narrowed. Before Natasha could even drop back into a defensive stance, Loki had grabbed her by the throat and thrown her across the room like a rag doll.

She hit the wall with a loud thud and fell to her hands and knees.

He strode across the room before she could get to her feet and lifted her up by the collar of her nightshirt. "Is that any way to treat a guest?" He said the words calmly but his eyes burned with fire.

He dropped her suddenly, sending her crashing backward into the footboard of her bed. Seething with rage, Natasha spun on her back and kicked off the footboard, flinging herself along the floorboards between Loki's legs and taking them out as she passed.

She turned quickly on one knee and aimed a kick at Loki's head as he stumbled. She turned and sprinted down the hallway, heading for the kitchen and her other gun.

With Loki right behind her, Natasha grabbed a knife from the block on the kitchen bench and flung it at him, giving her enough time to rip open the kitchen drawer and reach her gun. But Loki was quick, knocking the Walther PPK/S out of her hands and sending it skidding across the floor and into the lounge room.

Kicking him in the chest, Natasha made a dash for the weapon but Loki caught her and threw her into her faded blue couch. He was on top of her in a heartbeat, a knee in her back and a large, pale hand grasping her wrists. Her silk nightgown rode up around her waist as she squirmed and struggled, trying to buck him off.

Suddenly the slap of skin on skin caused her bottom to radiate with pain as Loki's hand connected with it. She cried out but stilled.

She felt his weight shift and his warm breath was suddenly in her ear. "This is much better don't you think?" He purred, sending a shiver down her spine that she didn't entirely think was fear.

"You beneath me, half naked and..." he slipped one long finger between her legs, "dripping." He breathed, causing a small moan to escape her lips.

Disgusted with herself, she bit down on her lip. She had withstood hours of torture without making a single sound, she could handle his games. But torture didn't cause her body to tingle all over, nor give her the urge to arch in to his touch. His lips ghosted her ear and when his tongue flicked out and licked a long line from her ear down her neck, she had to bite her lip harder to keep from moaning again.

"Tell me little spider, does this remind you of your wicked dreams?" Loki's fingers trailed circles on her inner thigh.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She ground out between gritted teeth.

"Well then, maybe this will jog your memory." And with his free hand he grabbed the back of her shirt and with one violent tug he ripped it from her body.

He yanked her wrists backwards so she was forced onto her knees. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her flush against his chest so he could lean forward and whisper in her ear, "Do not fight me, little spider. We both know you want this."

His lips ghosted over her neck and shoulder while his hand wandered up from her hip to grasp her breast hard, pinching her nipple and causing her to gasp in pain and pleasure.

"To escape your sins, you bathe yourself in more sin. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers." As he spoke, his fingers dipped down into her panties and found their way inside her. She bit her lip so hard to keep from moaning that she could taste blood. "You claim to be redeeming yourself through death and destruction, but we both know it's purely because you enjoy the death and the destruction!" His fingers were long and lightning fast, reaching all the spots that would normally make her scream.

She let her head drop back onto his shoulder, panting heavily, and squeezed her eyes shut, still refusing to make a sound.

"You think yourself above me, when in reality you wish you were by my side! Little spider, you suffer the worst kind of deformity – a warrior with a conscience."

And with that final jab, Loki spun her around and shoved her forwards to land against the back of the couch. A tingling sensation encircled her wrists and when she tried to pull away, she found that her wrists had been magically chained to the couch.

Natasha struggled against her invisible shackles, twisting and pulling, and looked over her shoulder to find that Loki was suddenly as naked as she was.

Unwittingly her eyes travelled downwards, "Svyatoye der'mo" she breathed, her eyes widening. For the first time tonight Natasha felt a jolt of pure fear.

The sound of Loki's laughter forced her to tear her eyes away and bring them up to meet his. He pressed his body against hers and the feeling of his bare skin was electric, it made Natasha's hairs stand on end. His breath was hot on the back of her neck, "I will make you never want another."

His honey-coated words and the feeling of him finally, finally entering her proved more than all the torture resistance training in the world and Natasha let out a loud moan. That only made Loki thrust into her harder and soon he was steadily riding her into the couch, one hand tangled in her hair and the other squeezing and pinching her breast.

Natasha struggled against her restraints at first but with each increasingly powerful thrust, she found it was all she could do to hold on to the couch for dear life. The musky scent of sex and Loki suffocated her and his fingers blazed a trail of fire wherever they roamed.

She lost all sense of thought and time, her mind was numb and all she could feel were the waves of pleasure pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She could hear Loki grunting and her own moans, though the blood rushing in her ear made it sound like they were underwater.

When her climax came, Natasha didn't even realise she was screaming Loki's name, her orgasm so intense it blinded and deafened her. Pleasure shot through her, coursing through her body and down to every extremity, making her tingle all over.

As Natasha came down from her high, she felt a warm dripping sensation down the back of her thigh and realised that Loki had pulled out. She tried to get her breath back and as she turned to face him, she realised that her wrists were no longer magically bound.

She looked up at him; he was fully clothed once again and did not look at all dishevelled as she must look.
Still breathing heavily she caught his eye. The green seas betraying lust and smugness as he watched her lay naked and spent on the couch while he stood calm and controlled above her. He smirked, turning on his heel he began to walk away.

"Loki" she called out, and he stopped.

"Give me back my gun." He turned abruptly with a grin on his face and, from nowhere, flung her Glock 26 towards her. She snatched it from the air with both hands and aimed it at him, but in a swirl of green he was gone.

She held her position, wary that he might pop up somewhere else, but after a few moments she slowly lowered her arms. She glanced around the room and, with a sigh, she flopped back into the couch, she let her arm fall and heard the gun clatter to the floor.

She closed her eyes.

She could have sworn she saw him wink.