I am Loki, the god of mischief, magic, and lies. Silver tongue. Liar. Trickster. Deceiver. Shapeshifter. Bringer of Ragnarök. To be Loki, is to be alone.
“So where have you been, my wandering space-boy?” Morgan called from the kitchen, slipping in to the cosy domesticity of heating up macaroni cheese for him surprisingly easily.
“Worship me. Lick me. Make me come.”
Morgan stretched up as far as she could within his hold and flicked her tongue across his lips.
“Or use me. Fuck me. Make yourself come. I don’t mind - either gives me a great deal of pleasure.”
Loki licked his lips. “Oh darling I’m not quite sure which I would like to do more at this point. I do love how you’re eager for any of it. Can you ever get enough, I wonder.”
She was squirming beneath him, needy and wet and trying to get his cock in the position she wanted it.
“That depends - could you keep up with me long enough to find out?” She challenged, fire flashing in her eyes.
There was nothing she loved more than goading him into fucking her and -she knew- nothing that he loved more than hearing her say how much she wanted it.
“That sounds like you underestimate me. I may have to punish you for that.”
He adjusted his position, teasing her by running his tip against her. “So wet already. Tell me, does the mere thought of me fucking you get you wet?” Loki smirked at her and pushed himself inside her.
“Uhh yes, punish me …”
Each word was stretched out and distorted as he made her his willing slave again - always.
He felt so thick, so deliciously hard and deep inside her.
“Just thinking about you gets me wet, thinking about you fucking me gets me off…’
Needless to say, her answer was pleasing to him. “Good,” he replied as he began to thrust. His pace was slow, but he used force behind his thrusts, punishing her with each one.
