A/N: Just a small ficlet that I did. Hope you guys enjoy it, because I sure did while writing it :3

The Nature of Kisses

When he was little it was a kiss on his forehead at bedtime and a kiss to his hair when he was crying. Frigga had done it countless times-every night and at every scraped knee or cruel jest from the other children. When he grew into his young teens the goodnight kiss on his forehead came with some hesitation, but it was still there. When he seethed she would laugh softly and kiss his cheek. That always served to calm him, if not embarrass him. When he grew older Frigga would pat his cheek and smile when he came to her. It was always after a moment of slight hesitation that she would kiss his cheek. She knew he was growing older, but you are never too old for a mother's kiss.

There were other kisses too. Some were hard and demanding while others where soft and pliant. These were the kisses of lovers. They strayed down his neck and stayed there in the form of dark bruises which his high collar would easily hide. But these kisses did not stay, and neither did their givers. Some were sloppy and inexperienced, some were tentative and shy, and others were demanding and well trained. The kisses of lovers always varied.

The kisses he received from his two wives were different as well. There was no true love within them. It was mechanical, something that they both had to do. He always had to refrain from cringing when he kissed his wives. They were boring and neither of them caught his attention. They were chosen for him by Odin of course. He complained to Frigga about them and she would smile sadly, giving him a mother's kiss on his cheek before tell him that there was nothing that she could do. He sighed in relief each time he was granted a divorce.

He treasured the short time he got with his children. He kissed them goodnight as his mother had done for him. His children loved it, especially little Hel. She would bounce on her bed until she received a kiss to her forehead. It always made him laugh. It tore him apart when they were taken away from him. It killed him when his youngest two were slaughtered.

There was a time in his life when there was no such thing as kisses. There was only hatred, anger and destruction. Thanos, the mad titan, had control of him. All he could do was watch as he destroyed set out to destroy Midgard. This wasn't him. This wasn't something he wanted. He liked Midgard. It had been a retreat for him when things got too stressful on Asgard. He stood with a muzzle over his mouth, his eyes averted. He couldn't look at the pride filled eyes of the Midgardian heroes, or the look of betrayal in Thor's own bright blues.

Now things were different. The kisses were much, much different. But that was okay. They were welcome and kind. They were loving and fulfilling. He had never had kisses like this. The one who gave him these kisses gave him back his children, had fought tooth and nail with Odin to get them back and had succeeded. The kisses from this person came with the soft scratch of a dark goatee and a blue glow from an Arc Reactor. The person's name was Tony Stark.

Of the kisses in Loki's life these were the ones he treasured most. It was thanks to Tony that he had his children. He was loved and accepted. Tony was always in awe with his Jotun form, never fearful. He loved to trace his fingers down his markings, followed by his lips. The intimacy of the gesture always made Loki shiver. Tony's lips would always find his and give him another kiss to treasure. It took him a while, but he finally knew what these kisses were.

These were the kisses of true love.