Natasha was asleep, a sound deep sleep, the first in ages. She shifted against Loki's leg, murmuring something beneath her breath, her fingers clutching his leg as she sighed. It was the brush of his fingers through her hair that made her wake up, her eyes opening as she smiled up at him.
"I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. I never though that having people talk to me would be so tiring." Her hair had grown inches longer, curling around her shoulders, and she reached up to push it back, twisting it in her hands as she sat up.
"I find the smiling to be truly taxing," Loki said dryly as he marked his place in the book and set it aside. He liked her longer hair. She'd told him when she'd worked for Stark, or had tricked Stark into believing she worked for him -- a story that had had Loki in gales of laughter -- she'd worn her hair past her shoulders. He'd told her that on Asgard she could grow it still longer than that, and secretly he hoped she would simply let it continue.
"Supper is yet an hour away, if you wish to keep resting," he said and smirked. "Certainly I find it no hardship."
Natasha laughed softly. "You would." Her fingers tugged the wild red down around her neck and she looked through the curls at him, smirking still. "An hour away? I would have to wake up early. Completely your fault."
She needed to get dressed. Put on a gown that was suitable. But that required servants. No. No servants. Not right now.
"My head in your lap? Of course not." The teasing was coming easier to her now and there was a light in her eyes as the smirk stayed.
"My fault?" Loki contrived to look hurt, an almost-flawless illusion and one that Natasha could see through without any trouble at all. It still surprised Loki on occasion how little he minded, but he suspected that would last for some time.
He reached out and tweaked one of those curls, gratified to see her looking much more relaxed already, on the second evening of seven. "Perhaps I was mistaken and I find it an intolerable experience. Shall we experiment further?" he inquired, patting his leg.
Comments 40
"I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. I never though that having people talk to me would be so tiring." Her hair had grown inches longer, curling around her shoulders, and she reached up to push it back, twisting it in her hands as she sat up.
Reply
"Supper is yet an hour away, if you wish to keep resting," he said and smirked. "Certainly I find it no hardship."
Reply
She needed to get dressed. Put on a gown that was suitable. But that required servants. No. No servants. Not right now.
"My head in your lap? Of course not." The teasing was coming easier to her now and there was a light in her eyes as the smirk stayed.
Reply
He reached out and tweaked one of those curls, gratified to see her looking much more relaxed already, on the second evening of seven. "Perhaps I was mistaken and I find it an intolerable experience. Shall we experiment further?" he inquired, patting his leg.
Reply
Leave a comment