Author's Note: I usually don't do pre-chapter author's notes, but I do give warnings in rare cases when appropriate. You should know the drill by now. This chapter contains Explicit Sexual Content, and it's easily skippable if you're not interested.
Chapter 143
Arc 9 - Ch 10: Leap of Faith
Location: The Void at the End of Time
Tyson appeared on cracked pavement, angry gray clouds churning overhead. He sat up and spotted New York City, complete with skyscrapers with shattered windows and crumbling facades. No traffic. No people. Just wind whistling through the abandoned structures.
A flash of golden light erupted beside him. Sylvie materialized, stumbling as she regained her balance.
"Tyson!" She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
The kiss was desperate, hungry. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he pulled her closer, both confirming they were still alive.
A thunderous roar split the sky.
They broke apart. Darkness gathered above, swirling like living smoke. The cloud condensed, forming a massive serpentine head. A dragon with glowing red eyes materialized from the void itself.
"What is that thing?" Sylvie's face drained of color.
The creature opened its maw and dove toward them.
"Hold on!" Tyson wrapped an arm around her waist. Magnetic fields propelled them toward the ruins as the dragon crashed into the pavement.
They soared between buildings, the beast consuming everything in its path.
"That's the thing that destroys what's pruned from the timeline," Tyson shouted over the wind. "It devours anything that ends up here."
"How do we kill it?"
"I'm not sure we can. Our best bet is to run, find shelter."
They passed what remained of Stark Tower, but instead of the familiar 'STARK' logo, the building bore a different name.
QENG.
"That's different," Tyson muttered. He spotted a subway entrance. "If this New York is like mine, I might know somewhere we can hide."
They descended rapidly. Tyson threw debris from their path, relying on spider-sense and enhanced reflexes to navigate the stairs while hardly slowing.
The underground station was eerily preserved, frozen in time. Tracks, turnstiles, and even advertisements for products that didn't exist in his world. He kept going until it seemed Aloith had given up before eventually slowing and lowering to the ground.
"This way." Tyson took Sylvie's hand, leading her through darkened tunnels. His enhanced senses guided them deeper into the labyrinth beneath the city.
They navigated through maintenance corridors and abandoned service tunnels until they reached a nondescript metal door. Continuing through a large, wide-open tunnel, Tyson led her to another door and placed his palm against it. The lock mechanisms responded to his magnetic manipulation.
"What is this place?"
The door swung open to reveal an underground suite, untouched by the destruction above. The space was decorated in a 1950s aesthetic; chrome fixtures, geometric patterns, and pastel colors. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the TVA. A living area opened to a small kitchen, with several doors leading to what appeared to be bedrooms.
"How did you know about this?" Sylvie ran her fingers along a perfectly preserved countertop, marveling at the absence of dust.
Tyson closed the heavy door behind them, engaging several locks. "In my timeline, I built underground structures adjacent to the Alley. During the process, I discovered quite a few hidden gems. This was one of them." He gestured around the room. "I'm just glad it existed in this pruned version of New York."
Sylvie walked to a window that inexplicably showed a garden scene. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a convincing painting.
"The Alley?"
"An underground military project." Tyson moved to a control panel on the wall. Systems hummed to life. Lights brightened. Air circulation kicked on, dispelling the stale atmosphere.
"So this place was some kind of government bunker?"
"Something like that." Tyson opened what appeared to be a pantry, surprisingly stocked with canned foods.
Sylvie leaned against the kitchen counter. "How long do we need to hide out here?"
"Maybe an hour or two. Long enough for that thing to move on. Once it passes through the area, hopefully it won't return immediately."
She bit her lower lip, considering. "What do you want to do with your time?" Her voice dropped to a lower register.
Tyson glanced up, catching the shift in her tone. He turned to face her fully. "I suppose we could talk strategy."
"We could." Sylvie pushed away from the counter and moved toward him with deliberate steps. "Or we could find something more... entertaining to pass the time."
She stopped just short of him, close enough that he could smell faint icy winds and hemlock.
"What did you have in mind?"
Sylvie reached out, fingertips brushing his forearm. The touch was light, experimental. "I think you know."
"Fancy a bit of Mischief?"
A flicker of vulnerability crossed her face before she masked it with a smirk. The confident facade wavered. "I've never..." She stopped, frustrated by her own hesitation. "This isn't something I've done before. Being on the run doesn't leave much room for... intimacy."
"We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."
"I didn't say I wasn't comfortable." She stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. "I said I was inexperienced. There's a difference."
Before he could respond, she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, then grew bolder as Tyson responded, his hands coming to rest at her waist. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, feeling the strength there.
When they broke apart, she was breathing harder. "I may not have experience, but I'm a quick learner."
"I don't doubt it."
Sylvie stepped back, maintaining eye contact as she slowly removed her cloak. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. "Your turn."
Tyson complied, pulling his shirt over his head.
"Impressive." She reached out to trace the contours of his chest, her touch light, exploratory. "Very impressive."
Tyson caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm. The gesture was unexpectedly tender. Heat rose to her cheeks.
"You're gorgeous."
"Flattery. Is that part of this ritual?"
"Not flattery. Truth." His hand moved to cup her cheek. "And this isn't a ritual, Sylvie. It's a connection."
Something in his words touched her. For a moment, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to be seen. "I don't know how to do this. Not just the physical part. All of it. Being close to someone. Trusting them."
"There's no rush, no pressure."
Sylvie pulled him down for another kiss, deeper, more urgent. Her hands explored his shoulders, his back, learning the feel of him. Tyson responded in kind, his touch becoming increasingly passionate.
When they separated, both were breathing heavily. Sylvie took his hand and began leading him toward one of the doors they hadn't yet explored.
"Let's see if there's a bedroom behind door number one." A mischievous glint returned to her eyes. The door opened to reveal exactly that, a bedroom with a surprisingly well-preserved bed, its mid-century design matching the rest of the bunker. The sheets looked clean, as if time had somehow forgotten this place entirely.
Sylvie turned to face Tyson, standing in the doorway. Uncertainty flickered across her features again.
"We don't have to—"
"I want to. I want this. With you. I've spent my entire life running. Never staying in one place long enough to form connections. Never letting anyone close enough to matter. But with you, it's different. I feel... safe. And that's not something I've felt in a very long time. Let's stop talking. We only have an hour or two, remember?"
Tyson laughed, following her. "Yes, ma'am."
Sylvie's fingers traced the contours of Tyson's chest. She met his eyes, then reached for the clasps of her armor, but Tyson gently caught her wrists.
"Let me."
Her hands relaxed to her sides as Tyson unfastened the intricate Asgardian-inspired clothing. He started with the pauldron adorning her left shoulder, his fingers working the hidden clasps with surprising dexterity. The metal piece came away in his hand, and he set it carefully aside.
"You've done this before."
"No, I cheat. I can sense the metal, feel the clasps." He moved to the matching pauldron on her right shoulder.
Next came the emerald leather vambraces protecting her forearms. Tyson knelt before her to unfasten them, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist as each piece fell away, revealing the pale skin beneath. Her breath caught at the tenderness of the gesture. Rising to address the chest piece, his fingers found the fastenings that held it in place. As it loosened, he carefully lifted it over her head, leaving her in the forest-green tunic beneath. Each revealed patch of skin received his attention, a brush of fingertips along her collarbone, a soft kiss at the hollow of her throat.
"Is this how Midgardians always undress each other?"
Tyson smiled against her collarbone. "No, not usually. This is special."
When he reached the final layer, the simple tunic and leggings beneath all the armor, he paused, looking up at her for permission. Sylvie answered by capturing his mouth with hers, kissing him with newfound urgency. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he gently lifted the tunic over her head.
Tyson's hands spanned her waist, marveling at how, despite knowing her strength, she could feel so perfect beneath his touch.
Sylvie broke the kiss and reached for his belt.
"You're wearing too many clothes." The leather slid free with a soft hiss.
"For someone who so methodically planned their revenge, patience isn't your strong suit, is it?"
"Never has been." She tugged at his clothes, but couldn't make any headway with the adamantium weave. "Why start now?"
Tyson separated the weave at his waist and pulled the top over his head. She stepped forward, placing her hands on his chest before sliding them down to the waistband of his pants. She worked the fabric down his legs until he could step free.
Her fingers hesitated at the waistband of his underwear, her confidence momentarily faltering. But she hooked her thumbs under the elastic and slowly drew the fabric downward, then let it join the rest of their discarded clothing on the floor. She took in the sight of him fully revealed, a flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.
"Still impressive." The breathlessness in her voice betrayed her attempt at nonchalance. Her fingers twitched at her sides, as if she wanted to touch but wasn't sure if she should.
"Your turn."
He found the clasp of her bra, giving her time to change her mind. Instead, Sylvie squeezed his arm, letting him know it was okay. He unclasped it, allowing her to pull her arms out of the garment.
Beneath the layers of armor and clothing, Sylvie's body was all lean muscle and generous curves. She was beautiful in a way that transcended conventional beauty; fierce and real, a warrior goddess standing before him without pretense.
"You're staring."
"You're worth staring at."
His hands moved to the waistband of her leggings, his fingers brushing against the warm skin of her abdomen. He felt her muscles tense beneath his touch, not from fear but anticipation. Slowly, he knelt before her, drawing the fabric down her legs. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as she stepped out of the garment.
Tyson remained kneeling, his hands resting lightly on her hips as he looked up at her.
Her hand moved from his shoulder to cup his cheek. "I've spent my entire life running from things. This is the first time I've wanted to run toward something instead."
Tyson pressed a kiss to her abdomen, just below her navel, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. His hands slid around to the backs of her thighs, then he rose to his feet, lifting her with him. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her arms encircling his neck. He lowered her onto the mattress and followed her down, bracing himself above her. Sylvie looked up at him, her short hair splayed across the pillow. Without the armor of her smirks and scowls, she appeared younger, more vulnerable. But there was nothing fragile in the way her hands explored his shoulders, his chest, learning the feel of him with curious fingers.
"You're beautiful."
"More flattery." Her exploration paused. "No one's ever called me that before."
"Then no one's ever really seen you."
Surprise, disbelief, and beneath it all, cautious hope crossed her face. She pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, as if she was trying to convey through touch what she couldn't yet say in words.
Tyson responded in kind, his lips moving from her mouth to her jaw, tracing the elegant line of her throat. He took his time, mapping the contours of her body with his mouth and hands, learning what made her breath catch, what drew soft sounds from her lips.
When his kisses reached the valley between her breasts, her fingers tightened in his hair. He looked up, checking her reaction, and found her watching him with hooded eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Words seemed beyond her as his mouth continued its journey downward. His hands slid beneath her, supporting the arch of her back as he traced the subtle ridges of her ribs, the dip of her navel, the curve of her hip. Her breathing grew more ragged as his kisses trailed lower. When he settled between her thighs, his broad shoulders gently parting them, he paused again, looking up the length of her body. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
"What are you..."
"Trust me?"
The question encompassed more than just this moment; it was about everything that had brought them here, everything that might come after.
"I trusted you with my life." The words clearly cost her something, yet were freely given.
Tyson held her gaze as he lowered his head, his breath warm against her most intimate place. The first touch of his mouth drew a startled gasp from her, her back arching off the bed. Her hand found his, their fingers intertwining against the sheets as his tongue began its intimate exploration. The moment his mouth made contact, he opened his power up, and sensation crashed through him. Tasting her, learning what made her respond, collided with the cascade of her emotions flooding through their connection. Her shock. Her pleasure. She was in disbelief that this could feel so intense. All of it poured into him with startling clarity. Her arousal fed his own. He could feel her uncertainty about surrendering to sensation, could sense the exact moment that uncertainty dissolved into pure feeling. It was intoxicating.
He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. She saw something raw in his expression. "I can feel everything you're feeling. Every spike of pleasure, every moment of surprise. It's incredible, but it's also intense." He took a steadying breath, his thumb stroking along her hip.
The realization that this was affecting him as powerfully as it affected her, that she wasn't alone in being overwhelmed, gave her permission to surrender more fully. "Then feel it," she whispered. "Feel everything."
Tyson explored Sylvie with his lips, his tongue, his mouth. She had never experienced anything like this, this vulnerability, this surrender of control.
"Tyson." The word escaped as a gasp.
He looked up briefly, meeting her gaze with heat in his eyes. "Relax. I've got you. You're safe with me."
The vibration of his words against her sensitive skin sent a shiver through her body. Sylvie had spent countless years always vigilant, always guarded. Now, she found herself willingly relinquishing that control.
His tongue traced patterns that only he seemed to know. When he found a particularly sensitive spot, her back arched involuntarily, a strangled cry escaping her lips. Tyson responded by focusing his attention there, his hands holding her hips and kneading her ass as she began to tremble.
"I didn't know it could be like this."
Tyson hummed his acknowledgment. His hands slid beneath her, adjusting the angle slightly, and then his mouth dove back in.
She climbed toward something unknown yet inevitable. Her world narrowed to the sensations Tyson was creating, her breathing growing more erratic, her muscles tensing as she approached the precipice. He sensed the change, his movements becoming more focused, more insistent. When it came, it crashed over her like a wave breaking during a tsunami; powerful, overwhelming, utterly transformative. Sylvie cried out as her body shuddered in pleasure. Tyson stayed with her through it all, his tongue slowing but not stopping as she rode out the aftershocks.
As she slowly returned to herself, she found Tyson watching her with an expression that combined satisfaction with barely restrained desire. He pressed a final kiss to her inner thigh before moving up her body, his lips trailing a path along her stomach, capturing a nipple to suck for a moment, until finally capturing her mouth.
The taste of herself on his lips was strange but not unpleasant, equal parts intimate and naughty. Sylvie wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as she recovered her breath.
"That was..."
"Just the beginning," Tyson promised.
He positioned himself above her, his weight supported on his forearms. Despite his size and strength, his touch remained gentle and considerate. In this moment, suspended between what had just happened and what was about to come, Sylvie felt her walls crumbling, a door opening to possibilities she had never considered.
Their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the narrow space between them. He searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Instead, he found only trust and desire reflected back at him.
Sylvie reached between them, her fingers wrapping around him with tentative confidence, and guided him to her entrance.
Tyson braced himself on one forearm, his other hand interlocking with hers as he pressed forward with exquisite slowness, watching her face carefully as he eased inside. Sylvie drew a sharp intake of breath at the unfamiliar sensation of being filled.
"Breathe. Just breathe with me."
Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with his.
"More."
Tyson obliged, withdrawing slightly before pressing deeper, establishing a gentle rhythm that gradually brought them closer together. With each careful thrust, he learned what made her breath catch, what caused her fingers to tighten against his skin.
When he was fully within her, Tyson stilled, allowing them both to savor the moment of complete connection. Her legs relaxed and fell open wider, allowing him to draw even deeper.
"You feel... so much... so good."
He began to move again at an unhurried pace. Each thrust was controlled, not from fear of hurting her, but from a desire to make this first experience everything it should be. His hand slid beneath her, supporting the small of her back, adjusting the angle slightly.
The change drew a gasp from Sylvie, her head falling back against the pillow. "There. Right there."
Tyson maintained the position, focusing on the spot that brought her such pleasure. Expressions shifted across her face, surprise, concentration, and finally surrender as she gave herself over to the sensations. She was beautiful like this. Unguarded, responsive, with her usual defenses nowhere to be found.
He pressed his lips to her throat. Her pulse raced beneath his mouth.
As Sylvie grew more confident, her movements became more assertive. Her hips rose to meet his thrusts, her legs tightening around him to pull him deeper. The change drew the first groan from Tyson.
"That's it. Show me what you want."
Her eyes locked with his, a flash of her usual mischief returning despite the flush on her cheeks and the breathlessness in her voice. "More. Faster."
Tyson increased his pace gradually. The change drew moans from Sylvie, her head falling back as pleasure built within her. Her reactions fueled his own desire, pushing him closer to the edge of his control.
"Tyson." Her body began to tense beneath him. "Something's happening, like before, I feel—"
"I know. Let it come. Don't fight it."
He leaned back. His hand slipped between them, then his thumb found her clit. The added stimulation drew a cry from Sylvie. Tyson maintained his rhythm as he guided her toward release.
"Look at me. Stay with me."
Her eyes opened, locking with his. This woman, who had survived centuries on the run, who had faced down the TVA and defied the Time-Keepers, who had never stopped running long enough to connect with anyone, now trusted him with her most unguarded self. The realization, combined with the sight of the Asgardian princess, a goddess, moaning under him, pushed Tyson closer to his own edge. His movements became more urgent, though he maintained enough control to ensure her pleasure came first. He could feel her tightening around him as she approached her peak.
"That's it. Let go for me."
The combination of his words, his touch, and the steady rhythm of his thrusts finally pushed Sylvie over the edge. Her release crashed through her with an intensity that surpassed her earlier climax, drawing a cry from her lips. Her body clenched around him, pulling him deeper.
The sight of her coming beneath him, combined with the exquisite pressure of her inner walls gripping his length, shattered the last of Tyson's control. His rhythm faltered as his own release approached, his muscles tensing.
He groaned in warning and thought to pull out.
Her hands framed his face, pulling him down for a kiss. "Don't hold back. Not with me."
The permission undid him. With a final thrust, Tyson surrendered to his own release. He buried his face against her neck, breathing in the scent of her as their bodies shuddered together.
Tyson experienced their orgasm from both sides of the connection simultaneously. The moment her climax began, he felt it through her body, the cascading waves of sensation, the total dissolution of conscious thought into pure feeling, the pulsing contractions from the inside. At the same time, those contractions gripped him with exquisite pressure, her body rhythmically squeezing his length in ways that shattered the last of his control. The dual experience was transcendent and overwhelming. He couldn't separate where his pleasure ended, and hers began. Was he feeling his own release or hers? The question became meaningless as sensation obliterated thought. He heard someone crying out and realized distantly it was him, his voice joining hers in a wordless expression of pleasure beyond articulation.
For several heartbeats, he remained frozen above her, trembling with the aftershocks. When his focus finally returned, he found Sylvie watching him with dazed wonder. "Did you...?"
"Feel everything you felt while feeling my own? Yes." His voice came out rough, wrecked. "I don't have words for what that was like."
For several moments, he remained inside her, their breathing gradually slowing as they floated back to reality. Tyson braced himself on his forearms to avoid crushing her, though he knew she was far stronger than she appeared. Their foreheads pressed together, neither quite ready to break the connection.
When Tyson finally moved to shift his weight beside her, Sylvie made a small sound of protest, her arms tightening around him.
"Stay. Just a little longer."
The silence that followed was comfortable at first, filled only with their gradually steadying breaths. But as the immediate haze of pleasure faded, Sylvie's mind began working again, processing not just what had happened but what it meant. She shifted slightly in his arms, enough to see his face without fully breaking their connection.
"I need to ask you something." Tyson picked up the uncertainty threading through her thoughts.
He brushed a strand of golden hair from her face, his expression open. "Anything."
"Amora." The name hung between them for a moment. "And the others. The ones she calls your mistresses." Her fingers traced an absent pattern on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm not naive enough to think you've been celibate all these years I've been on the run. But I need to understand what I'm walking into here. What this," she gestured between them, "actually means in the context of your life."
Tyson didn't flinch from the question, which she appreciated. His hand settled over hers, stilling her nervous movements. "You're right to ask. And you deserve an honest answer, not a comfortable one."
He took a breath, organizing his thoughts. "Amora and I... it started as an alliance of convenience, became friendship, and grew into whatever it is now. She's brilliant, powerful, complicated. The 'queen' thing," he smiled ruefully, "that's her way of making sense of a situation that doesn't fit traditional relationship structures. Its hard for me to define what we have because we never defined it."
"And the others?"
"Each relationship developed naturally, not as part of some grand design. I won't pretend it's simple. There's complicated dynamics, but there's also joy in those connections, and everyone chose this knowingly."
"And where exactly do you see me fitting into this arrangement? Another mistress in Amora's court? Just another woman to warm your bed?" The sarcasm was a defense mechanism, but the genuine question underneath was clear.
Tyson's hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "I don't know yet. What I felt with you just now, what I'm feeling through this connection, it's different. Unique, just like every relationship." He held her gaze. "But I won't lie and say I know exactly how you'll fit into my life. That's something we'll have to discover together. What I do know is that I want you there. However that looks."
Sylvie was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice held an unfamiliar hesitancy. "I've never done any of this before. Not just the physical part, but the emotional complexity. Relationships. Plural." She paused, then forged ahead with characteristic boldness. "And there's something else I should probably mention, since we're being honest about complications."
"Go on."
"Women. I've never had the opportunity to explore whether I'm interested in women as well as men. When you're running for your life across timelines, you don't exactly have time for sexual experimentation." Her fingers resumed their absent tracing on his chest. "But I've wondered. And if I'm entering a situation with multiple partners involved..." She let the implication hang.
Through their connection, he could sense her genuine curiosity mixed with uncertainty about his reaction. "Are you asking if I'd have a problem with you exploring that?"
"I'm telling you it's a possibility. I don't know what I want yet. I'm still figuring out what I want from you, much less anyone else. But I spent centuries not having choices about my own life. I won't enter another situation where my options are limited without my consent." Her green eyes challenged him. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"No. Though I'll admit the idea of you and Amora together creates some interesting mental images, given how similar you are to each other." His smile was genuine, if somewhat lascivious. "But more seriously, you're right. You deserve choices. About everything."
Tyson pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. The feather-light touch tickled unexpectedly, drawing a soft laugh from Sylvie, so unguarded and genuine that Tyson found himself smiling in response.
"I just—" Her words cut off abruptly as the slight movement shifted him inside her. He was still hard, still filling her completely. A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Oh. You're still..."
Tyson nodded. "We can stop. You must be—"
Sylvie silenced him by deliberately shifting her hips, taking him deeper. The movement drew matching groans from them both. "Does it feel like I want to stop?"
The transformation was subtle but unmistakable. The vulnerable woman who had surrendered to her first experience of pleasure was still there, but now something else emerged alongside her. The Goddess of Mischief, confident and playful.
"Like I said, I'm a quick study. I want to see what else I can learn."
Tyson felt his desire growing at her words, at the deliberate way she moved beneath him.
"Is that so?"
She batted her eyelashes, making a look that was both innocent and wicked. "Show me more."
In response, Tyson withdrew slowly, almost completely, before sinking back into her fully. The motion drew a sharp intake of breath from Sylvie, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Like that?"
"Yes. Just like that."
This time was different; the slow care and urgent need of their first time was replaced by something more exploratory. Tyson maintained the slow, deep thrusts. She began to move with him, her hips rising to meet his, finding counterpoint to his rhythm.
"Tell me what you like."
Tyson smiled down at her. "I like watching you discover what you like."
A thoughtful expression crossed her face, followed by determination. "Then let me try something."
With surprising strength, she pushed against his chest, rolling them until she was straddling him, their bodies still joined. The new position drew him even deeper inside her. Sylvie braced her hands on his chest, adjusting to the sensation of having him so completely.
"Better?"
Tyson's hands cupped her ass. "Perfect."
Sylvie began to move experimentally, rising and falling in shallow motions. Each movement taught her something new, what angle brought the most pleasure, what pace made her breath catch. She leaned forward slightly, changing the angle, and groaned as the adjustment hit something exquisite within her. "There."
"Show me."
The challenge in his words sparked something in her. Sylvie began to move with more purpose.
"Like this. Just like this."
Tyson's hands tightened on her waist as he watched the beautiful Asgardian ride him with increasing confidence. The erotic sight of her taking her pleasure wasn't one he'd forget soon.
"You're magnificent."
A flush spread across her cheeks at the praise, but she didn't look away. Instead, she placed her hands over his, guiding them up to cup her breasts. "Touch me."
Tyson obeyed willingly, his thumbs brushing across her nipples, drawing a moan from her lips. Her head fell back as pleasure built within her. Tyson's hips rose to meet hers, taking over when her control began to slip. Her eyes met his, wide and vulnerable despite the power position she held above him. He increased his pace, matching the urgency of her movements as they raced toward release.
Sylvie cried out, her body arching as she shuddered around him. Tyson followed shortly after, his release triggered by the exquisite pressure of her clenching.
She collapsed forward onto his chest, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Her head shifted to rest beside his on the pillow, her golden hair spilling across his shoulder. Her eyes were half-closed, her face holding a satisfied smile as she floated in the hazy aftermath of pleasure. Before she could fully recover, Tyson's hands found her hips. With gentle pressure, he began to move her, shifting her back and forth in subtle motions. He was still hard inside her.
Her eyes flew open in surprise. "More?"
Tyson didn't answer with words. Instead, he maintained the gentle rocking motion, guiding her movements with his hands. He lifted her only slightly with each movement, focusing not on long strokes but on deep pressure against her most sensitive inner places.
The sensation was different from before, more intense, more concentrated. Tyson could feel the subtle ridges deep inside her sliding against the head of his cock with each careful movement.
"Oh. That's—" Her words dissolved into a low moan as he shifted the angle slightly.
Tyson learned what movements drew the strongest responses. He established a rhythm that had her gasping with each subtle thrust.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her fingernails leaving marks in his skin that healed over instantly. He never withdrew more than an inch before pressing deep again. Her inner walls began to flutter around him. "I can't. It's too much—"
But he didn't stop. It wasn't long before a strangled cry escaped her lips, her inner muscles clenching around him. Tyson pulled her close and kept grinding her along his length, guiding her through the peak of pleasure and into the shuddering aftermath. When her body finally went limp, her breath coming in ragged gasps, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Too much?"
Sylvie managed a weak laugh. "Not enough," she countered, though her voice and body said otherwise.
The challenge in her words sparked something in him, a desire to show her just how much pleasure her body could withstand, how many sensations she had yet to discover. With careful movements, Tyson shifted their positions, rolling them so that she lay beneath him once more.
"Turn over."
Sylvie complied, trusting him without hesitation, rolling onto her stomach, her face turned to watch him over her shoulder.
"What now?"
Tyson's hands moved to her hips, urging her to raise them slightly. "Lift up."
"Like this?" She adjusted her position to display the elegant curve of her spine, the subtle dimples at the small of her back, and the round curve of her ass.
"Perfect." His hands traced appreciative paths along her sides, over the curve of her hips, down the backs of her thighs. The touch was reverent, worshipful, making her shiver despite the warmth of the room.
He positioned himself behind her, one hand guiding himself to her entrance once more.
"Oh." Sylvie's fingers clutched at the sheets as he slowly thrust forward. "That's different."
"Good different?"
In answer, Sylvie pushed back against him, taking him deeper with a soft moan. "Very good different."
Tyson established a rhythm, his hands steadying her hips as he moved within her. The pace was measured at first, allowing her to grow accustomed to the new sensations. But as Sylvie began to respond more enthusiastically, pushing back to meet his thrusts, he gradually increased both speed and force. The change drew appreciative sounds from her throat, soft moans evolving into more urgent cries as pleasure built once more.
"More. Harder."
Tyson complied, his hands tightening on her hips as he drove into her with greater force. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by their shared gasps and moans. He was mesmerized by the shape of her ass and the light jiggle that rippled through it as he thrust into her.
She pushed back against him with each thrust, growing more urgent, more demanding, as she chased her third release. Sylvie cried out, her body convulsing as her third climax tore through her, but this one was more muted, like her body had reached its limit. Tyson continued diving into her until he fell over the edge as well.
For several heartbeats, they remained locked together, then, slowly, Sylvie turned in his arms, her face flushed and her hair wild. Despite the exhaustion evident in her features, her eyes held a spark of joy that had been absent in all the time he had known her.
Her breathing finally returned to normal. The afterglow of pleasure still radiated through her body, making her limbs feel heavy and her mind wonderfully light. She turned her head to look at him, finding his eyes already on her, warm and attentive.
"Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me. We shared that together."
She shook her head, propping herself up on one elbow to face him more directly. "You don't understand. You can't understand what that meant for me." She dropped her gaze momentarily, as though the admission cost her something. "All those years running, never staying in one place long enough to... to connect with anyone. Never trusting enough to let anyone close." Her voice grew quieter. "I've been alone for so long that I forgot what it felt like not to be."
Tyson drew her into a kiss, appreciating the softness of her lips. "I'm the only person who does understand. It only takes a touch to gain your memories, remember? I know what you were thinking, know what you felt."
Her eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. "Tell me. What did you feel?"
Tyson took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. How could he explain the complexity of what he'd experienced through her? The layers of emotion, the contradictions, the revelations? Not to mention the sensations.
"At first, there was fear. Not of me, but of what was happening between us. Fear of letting go, of losing control. You've spent so long maintaining control. Of your environment, your emotions, your connections. Surrendering that, even for a moment, terrified you."
Sylvie nodded almost imperceptibly, neither confirming nor denying, but her eyes remained fixed on his.
"Beneath that was wonder. When the pleasure first began to build, I felt your surprise. The physical sensations were new, yes, but it was more than that. It was the realization that your body could experience joy." A flush spread across Sylvie's cheeks, but she didn't look away. "There was confusion, too. Trying to make sense of what was happening, but the feelings kept outpacing your thoughts. That surrender, letting yourself feel without thinking, that was new for you."
Tyson paused, but her expression remained open, encouraging him to continue.
"When you had your first orgasm, I felt the moment everything changed for you. It wasn't just a physical release, it was like you realized that pleasure wasn't just something that happened to your body."
Her eyes grew brighter with unshed tears. Not from sadness, but from the strange intimacy of having someone articulate experiences she had barely had time to process. "The second time, when you took control, I felt your exhilaration. Your mind kept flickering between focusing on your sensations and wondering about mine. Whether I was experiencing the same intensity, the same connection."
"Were you?"
"Yes. But there was something else too, something deeper that you might not even have recognized yourself." He reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers as he continued. "Beneath everything, the pleasure, the discovery, the connection, there was relief. Relief that after centuries of running, of fighting, of surviving, you could still feel something so... human. Well, that's how I interpreted it. But I mean, so universal, so basic. That the TVA hadn't taken that from you, too."
A single tear escaped, trailing down Sylvie's cheek. Tyson caught it with his thumb.
"But the strongest feeling was trust. Not just trusting me with your body, but seeing you without your armor, without your defenses."
Sylvie was silent for a long moment. "All my life, I've been alone. Even when I was a child on Asgard, before the TVA came, I felt... separate. Different. The burden of being a Loki, I suppose. And after, during all those years running, I had to be. Letting anyone close enough to know me meant putting them in danger. Meant putting myself in danger."
She squeezed his hand. "Having someone see me should terrify me. It should make me want to run."
"Does it?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. It makes me want to stay. And that's what scares me most of all."
"Stay here? Or stay with me?"
Her eyes locked with his. "If you know what I'm thinking, you tell me."
They were still close, still touching. He opened his power, bringing another flash of her thoughts, her emotions washing over him. Hope warred with fear, desire with practicality, and beneath it all ran a current of longing so deep it made his chest ache.
"You're thinking about possibilities. About what it would mean to stop running. To build something permanent. But you're also thinking about the TVA, about the Time Keepers, about all the questions we still need to answer."
Her eyes widened, but she didn't look away.
"You're wondering if wanting to stay makes you weak. If letting yourself have this means betraying everything you've fought for. And you're annoyed that I can read you so easily."
That drew a quiet laugh from her. "Get out of my head," she muttered, but there was no real heat in the words.
"Can't help it. Not when you're this close." His expression grew more serious. "But what you're not thinking about, what you're deliberately avoiding, is that you're not just thinking about staying. You're thinking about belonging."
Tyson felt the surge of emotion that accompanied it. Longing, fear, hope, all tangled together in a complex knot.
"Am I wrong?"
Her hand came up to rest against his chest, right over his heart. "No. But that doesn't make it any less terrifying."
"I'm guessing since you came here with me, to the Void, you're considering coming back when this is all done."
"I can't imagine what it must be like, to know for certain that things will work out in the end."
Tyson shook his head. "I don't know what will happen for certain. But I know that I'll get back to my reality, and it won't be pruned. It can't be, and I have to. There's too much on the line." His hand stilled on her skin. "I don't know if you'll be welcome in Asgard, but I can't imagine you won't be. And if you're not, you'll have a place with me. Though I imagine Amora would love you either way."
Sylvie sighed, rolling onto her side to face him properly. "What do you know? What happens next?"
"Next, we'll find Loki. Actually, lots of Lokis." He grinned. "What do you call a group of Lokis anyway? A collection? A chaos? A disaster?" Then Tyson snapped his fingers. "I've got it. A Mischief of Lokis!"