Prompt Post No. 1
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Attention: All new and continuing fills for this round are to be posted in the Overflow Post, not in this round.
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(I'm kind of working on this but keep getting hung up despite loving the idea to pieces!)
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Later, Loki will remind her that she didn’t have to take him up on it.
Later, Sif will lift her chin and smirk, just a little, and say, no, I did not.
--
One day, back when they are young, back when her hair was still golden and he was still shooting up like a weed, Loki asks Sif what is wrong.
Clearly, it’s something - in training earlier, she’d been vicious, cruel, violent and yet also somehow so very stupid. Which isn’t like Sif at all; normally, she’s a damn pleasure to spar with, because she actually thinks. But she’d thrown herself into training and the sparring with a blindness that actually scared him. Worried him. Worried him for her, which is an unsettling idea in of itself ( ... )
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“What do you think you might do?” He says, both because it’s more productive and because it will be a distraction.
“I don’t know. Thor said that once I prove myself, it will be enough, but I can’t prove myself if they forbid me to train.”
“You could disobey-”
“Mother,” Sif says, “would ask for my word.” And that would be that.
“You could…” He wants to help, both for her sake and for his. She’s his only true friend besides Thor (and brothers don’t count), and he doesn’t really want to be stuck not sparring with her, ever again. He’d never get any practice at fighting someone intelligent if her parents forbade her, married her off to some fool who didn’t deserve her. “Unless…you convinced them that you couldn’t be married.”
“And how am I supposed to do that, then?” She asks him, tartly. “I am not so unfeeling that I could make an oath never to marry.”
“Maybe, maybe if they thought you not a maiden, Sif-don’t-hit-me ( ... )
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“Well, yes,” Sif says, rolling her eyes. “That is why I want to do it again.”
“With me. Ow! What was that for?”
She glares at him, finger still poised to jab. “Of course with you, idiot. Who else?”
“I…I don’t…”
“…unless you don’t want to,” she says, slowly, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest.
“No, don’t-” He’s also sitting up now, hand outstretched before he snatches it back. “I want to,” he says, wondering why exactly he’s getting so tongue-tied. Then he remembers just how it felt, with her on him, pressing herself against him, pressing herself around him once she’d managed to slide him in without wincing. And he’d never, he’d never- well, he’d just been kissed before, nothing else.
Maybe with practice he wouldn’t feel so unable to utter an intelligent sentence.
“I want,” he says, and stops. “I want you. Again.” Always.
(but it’s more than just her, it’s a question of, a question of…It’s because she’s seen him come utterly undone, open and vulnerable, and he needs ( ... )
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Love it, love you, want to have my way with you in a forest glen ;)
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and :D!
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what, you mean it ISN'T? ;)
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