Trust
Part 3

I saw him seldom at first, passing him once or twice in the halls, averting my eyes the first few times, part of me afraid he'd leave again if I came on too strong. Then one morning we passed each other in the courtyard and as I dared to look at him I heard him mutter softly, "Good morning."

I turned, watching him continue to walk and spoke back, "Good morning."

It was very much like we were meeting for the first time once again, every interaction cautious and brief, but evolving as we slowly warmed up to each other again. The first moment of real hope came when I spotted Thor talking with him as they passed down the hall, and they both shared a brief laugh over some joke I must have missed. I didn't need to know what made them laugh, just seeing them interact in a friendly manner again brightened my spirits.

Loki glanced back, his eyes meeting mine, and when his smile did not fade, I courageously smiled back, feeling the first warmth between us since everything went wrong.

That night, he found me in the great hall, beside the fire reading a book, and he stepped closer to glance at the title. "Is that from Midgard?" he asked.

"I went to one of the book stores this morning," I said, glancing up. "It's poetry."

"Poetry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "And since when were you one for poetry?"

I curved my lips into half a smile and shrugged. "I dabble," I said, my heart stopping a little when he seated himself across from me.

"Is it any good?" he asked, and I couldn't control how much my face brightened at the realization that we were going to have a real conversation.

"So far," I replied. "Here…" I flipped back a few pages and cleared my throat before reading to him the words of Philip Larkin.

"Talking in bed ought to be easiest
Lying together there goes back so far
An emblem of two people being honest.
Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside, the wind's incomplete unrest
Builds and disperses clouds in the sky,
And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why
At this unique distance from isolation
It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind…"

As the last of the words left my lips, I paused, slowly looking up to him to see he was staring at my fingers as they clasped the book, a soft smile on his features. Several long moments of silence crawled between us, and I lowered the book into my lap, folding my hands over top as I leaned forward to look at him. "What are you thinking about?" I asked.

His eyes met mine, his smile remaining, and he murmured, "I was just thinking… how I've missed our conversations." I nodded in agreement, debating for a moment what I should say next, but no words seemed right. Instead, I unfolded my hands and slowly reached forward, tracing my finger over one of his hands tentatively, waiting to see what his response would be.

His fingers uncurled, and he turned his hand over, allowing me to trace over his palm. As I did so, his own fingers slowly curved upwards, tracing lightly over my palm, and I dared to slowly rest my palm against his. Our hands caressed each other until we both worked our hands upwards, pressing our hands perfectly against each other, our fingers aligned as I couldn't help but smile at how much longer his fingers were from mine.

"I've missed you," I whispered. It wasn't til I looked at him that I realized his eyes had moved to mine. There was uncertainty on his face, and I knew he was slowly moving out of his comfort zone and into dangerous waters. Respectfully, I made no further advances, knowing I had no right to make them in the first place, not until things were fully healed.

Our hands lowered, and I sighed, happy to have shared just in that one moment.

We talked for hours and hours until the sunlight began to creep in through the windows and sleepiness began to get the better of us. Standing up, I handed my book to him with a smile. "You might like this." He hesitated, then took the book from my hand, nodding.

"Sleep well," he whispered, and we parted ways.

The next few nights he met me by the fire and we'd stay up all night talking or reading to each other, and each night our interaction slowly grew in intimacy. He slowly moved from sitting across from me to sitting beside me, the gap between us closing each night.

One night he took my hand while I read aloud to him.

Another night I rested my head on his shoulder.

A few nights later he rested his head against mine.

Then came the evening we sat reading silently from the same book, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me while his head rested against mine. As the words went by I found it harder and harder to focus, the sound of his breathing ringing through my ears, his warmth covering over me, and it wasn't until several minutes went by that I became aware he had stopped reading as well.

I slowly pulled my head out from under his and raised my face to his cheek, hovering over momentarily before pressing a kiss to his cheek. I felt his body shift slightly as he breathed in deeply, and his arm around me tightened ever so slightly. I withdrew my lips, and pulled my face back a little as he turned his face to mine. His eyes flickered over my features several times, then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my temple.

I closed my eyes, my breathing slowing at the feel of his lips, and slowly I turned my head, waiting as I felt his hand rest on the side of my face, drawing me forward. When our lips met, my heart burst, all the pain and longing melting away as what I once thought impossible returned to reality. His kiss remained tender and sweet, our lips caressing each others, and slowly he drew me closer to him.

When I felt the book slide from my lap and fall to the floor, I moved to break the kiss in an attempt to catch it, but he held me firmly, not allowing me to move away, and as the book hit the ground with a thud, Loki coaxed my lips to part.

The kiss grew in passion and intensity, his fingers running through my hair as one of his hands traveled to the small of my back, pressing me against him. I traced the side of his face with my fingers, sighing against him, and his lips parted to whisper, "Lay back."

He moved back as I obeyed, laying back against the stone floor, my knees bent, and he rested himself between my legs, his lips returning to mine as I ran my fingers into his thick black hair, one of his arms wrapped around the back of my neck, his hand resting on my shoulder, and his other arm snaked around my waist, embracing me tightly while his lips devoured me.

I had missed him for so long. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be his, to feel him give way completely to desire.

After what felt like an eternity, he parted, sitting upwards to remove his clothing, and I undressed quietly, resuming my position beneath him.

There was no foreplay, no teasing of each other. There was no lust in any of our actions. As my skin met his, I felt as if my soul was slowly having life breathed back into it, and as his arousal slowly penetrated me, I felt in that moment as though I was once again complete.

I lay still at first, allowing him to have full reign of what took place, knowing he needed to be leading the way, but soon I began to meet my hips with his, receiving a pleased groan from him as he thrust into me even harder. His body covered over me, his face hovering near my ear, allowing me to hear his every breath as emotion slowly grew clouded by pleasure. When I was sure he was in a state of pure ecstasy, I allowed myself to indulge, clenching my walls around him as I moved in the same rhythm. I heard him gasp and he moaned my name, his lips kissing my throat while I wrapped my arms around him, my nails digging lightly into this back.

I felt his muscles begin to twitch and his breathing grew erratic. I was nowhere close to my own release, but I didn't care. Instead I moved my hips to encourage him on, listening as he emitted a low groan, his breathing becoming erratic, and his hips slamming against me a few more times as I felt the hot rush of his orgasm fill me.

His body remained still as he lay on top of me, and after several breathless minutes rolled by, he moved himself upwards, causing me to notice the glisten of tears in his eyes. He sat up, reaching out for me, and I sat up as well, scooting next to him as he wrapped his arms around me, kissing my face and burying his own face into my neck.

I couldn't find any words to say, but somehow I knew I didn't need to. Instead I sat there in the warmth of his embrace, relishing the sweet freedom of forgiveness.