For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The kiss was not gentle. It was a chemical reaction, a sudden, violent explosion of pressure and desperation that had been building since the ashes of the pyre. It was a collision of fire and frost, a frantic, pounding claim.
Loki's lips were cool, a stark contrast to the burning heat of her skin, but the kiss itself was scorching. David's mind, the 20-year-old college kid, went utterly blank, short-circuited by the sheer, overwhelming sensation of her. Her lips were softer than he could have ever imagined, tasting of Qartheen wine and a faint, sweet musk that was uniquely Daenerys.
Loki, the god, took control, his hand tightening in the silver fuzz of her hair, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss. He was a conqueror, and this was his first act of claiming his new world. Her soft gasp was swallowed by his mouth.
For a heartbeat, she was stiff, her hands flat against the hard leather of his armor, a silent protest against the suddenness of his possession. But only for a heartbeat.
Then, she melted.
It was a complete and total surrender, not of will, but of the body. A low sound, a 'tremor' that was half-moan, half-sob, vibrated in her throat. Her hands, which had been pushing, now fisted in his armor, clutching, pulling him closer. She kissed him back with a desperate, untrained hunger that was more intoxicating than any Asgardian mead. She was shameless in her need, a queen taking what she wanted, even as she was being taken.
I broke the kiss, my breath ragged, my head pounding with a mix of adrenaline and the drain from my earlier magic. I rested my forehead against hers, my eyes closed. David's heart was a sledgehammer against his ribs.
"Daenerys," I breathed, the name an anchor in a frantic, blurring sea of sensation.
"Loki," she whispered back, her voice thick, her lilac eyes heavy-lidded and dark with a desire that matched my own. She was so incredible, so beautiful it ached.
Loki's possessive instinct, that cold, ancient urge, was burning. He wanted to see her. All of her. He wanted to claim every inch of the queen who had called him her monster.
My hands slid from her neck, down her arms, to her bare shoulders. The Qartheen silk was a whisper against my leather-gloved fingers. I pushed the fabric aside. It was an abrasive scrape, a contrast of textures, before my gloves found the smooth, warm skin beneath. She shivered, her nipples hardening instantly, pressing against the thin silk, two light peaks.
"You are..." David stammered, his voice thick. "...mine," Loki finished, his voice a low, predatory growl.
I didn't wait for a reply. I bent my head, my lips tracing a line from her jaw, down the column of her neck. Her pulse was a frantic bird beneath my mouth. She smelled of jasmine and something... electric. Like the air before a lightning strike. I found the sensitive spot just above her collarbone, the one that made her entire body arch into mine, a soft, aching moan escaping her lips.
"Loki, please..." she whispered, her hands frantic, clumsy. She was trying to unbuckle the intricate clasps of my Asgardian armor. "This... it's too much."
I chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Patience, my Queen."
I stepped back, just enough to see her. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen from my kiss. My eyes raked over her, from her silver hair to the bare shoulder, down to where the silk draped her soft boobs.
"Turn around," I commanded, my voice soft but absolute.
She hesitated, her lilac eyes searching mine, before she obeyed. She turned, her back to me. She was trembling. David felt a pang of guilt at the dominance. Loki felt a burning surge of power.
My gloved hands found the fastenings of the silk robe. I didn't tear it. I unlaced it, slowly. My fingers brushed her skin, tracing the line of her spine, the silk parting under my touch. The fabric whispered to the floor, pooling at her feet like a discarded purple skin.
She stood before me, naked in the moonlight, her back still to me.
My breath hitched. She was heaven on earth. Small-framed, but with a woman's soft, intoxicating curves. Her skin looked like pale marble in the dim light of the Qartheen garden.
"You are... perfect," I breathed, the words a mix of David's awe and Loki's appreciation.
I placed my hands on her shoulders. Her skin was so hot, so alive. I felt her shiver, a full-body tremor. I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"Now, you face your monster," I whispered.
She turned, slowly. There was no fear in her eyes. Only that same, burning, shameless desire. She was unburnt, a queen of fire, and she would not be cowed. Her gaze dropped, taking in my body, still encased in leather and metal.
A slow smile touched her lips. "Then you must be unarmed, my 'vizier.' It is only fair."
David blushed. Loki laughed in delight. She was learning.
She reached for my buckles again, and this time I helped her. The leather armor was heavy, intricate. It was a slow, clumsy, intimate process. Her small, warm fingers brushed my skin as we worked the straps. Each touch was a spark, a jolt. Finally, the chest-plate and vambraces fell away, leaving me in my black, fitted tunic.
It wasn't enough for her. Her hands went to the hem, pulling it up. I raised my arms, letting her draw it over my head.
The air of the garden hit my bare chest. My skin, the skin of a Frost Giant, was naturally cool, a sharp contrast to her.
She stared. David had been a college kid, average. Loki's body, this new body, was anything but. It was lean, hard muscle, pale and smooth, defined by centuries of Asgardian training.
"A god," she whispered, her hand rising to trace the line of my ribs, my chest. Her warm palm on my cool skin was a shock to us both. It felt incredible.
"You're... cold," she murmured, her brows furrowing.
"Only on the outside," I promised, my voice rough.
In one smooth movement, I scooped her into my arms. She gasped, her arms instinctively wrapping around my neck. She weighed nothing.
I carried her from the garden into her chambers, kicking the door shut behind us. The room was lit by a single candle, casting frantic, dancing shadows. I didn't take her to the bed. Not yet.
I pressed her back against the cool marble wall, my body caging hers. Her lilac eyes were wide, her breathing shallow.
"You wanted tribute, Daenerys," I murmured, my lips brushing her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. I kissed the soft swell of her breast, my mouth closing over the light, hard nipple.
A sharp, electric cry broke from her lips. She arched against the wall, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her nails scraping my skin. The pleasure was so intense it was almost pain.
"Loki..." she pleaded, her head thrown back.
I moved to her other breast, laving it, suckling, until she was panting, her legs trembling. David's mind was gone, lost in the taste of her, the scent of her, the sound of her pleasure. This was a climax of sensation, a pounding, frantic need.
"I want you," she cried, her voice breaking. "Now. Please."
"What do you want?" I demanded, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, just like in the sample. I needed to hear her say it. This was her choice. Her power.
"I want you inside me," she responded, shameless, her eyes blazing with a matching fire. "I want to feel you. All of you."
Hearing her words, I lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her ankles locking behind my back. I held her pinned against the wall, her body open to me, a perfect, aching invitation. Her center was already wet, slick with her desire.
I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock brushing her folds. She gasped, her body tensing, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Look at me, Daenerys," I commanded.
Her eyes snapped open, locking with mine.
I entered her.
It wasn't a gentle push. It was a claim. A slow, deep, complete possession. A burning, aching fullness that stole her breath and shattered my control. She cried out, a sharp, raw sound of pain and pleasure so intertwined it was impossible to separate them. She was so tight, so hot, so perfect.
I paused, letting her body adjust to mine, letting her feel every inch of me, buried deep inside her. David's mind was exploding. Loki felt a sense of... belonging. Of rightness.
"Now," I whispered against her lips, "I move."
I withdrew, almost completely, and then plunged back with my full strength.
Her vision blurred. The world dissolved. There was nothing but the sound of our breathing, the slap of our bodies, the pounding rhythm of my thrusts. I was lost, driven mad by her crazy movements as she matched my rhythm, her body pulsing around me.
I moved us from the wall to the bed, never breaking the connection. We fell onto the rumpled silk sheets, a tangle of pale limbs and dark armor. I was on top of her, driving into her, frantic, desperate.
This was heaven on earth. This was madness.
I felt her climax begin to build. She moaned, a low, keening sound in my ear, her nails leaving bloody furrows on my back. The feeling of her pulsing around me, of her complete, wild abandon, brought me to the limit.
"Loki!" she screamed, her body arching off the bed as an incredible climax seized her, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
The sight of her, the sound of her, the feeling of her, shattered my last thread of control. I moaned in her mouth, my thrusts becoming rough, frantic, as I followed her over the edge. I climaxed with a force that felt like a physical blow, a burning release that flooded her womb.
For a long time, we didn't move. We lay tangled, our bodies slick with sweat, the room silent save for our ragged gasps.
"You're really amazing," I whispered, kissing her neck, my voice rough.
She just trembled, her body still humming with aftershocks.
Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or perhaps her scent made me dizzy. I don't know how many times we did it. My last memory was of her on top of me, her silver-fuzzed head thrown back, her soft boobs swaying as she rode me, her lilac eyes locked on mine, a look of pure, possessive power on her face. She was the Mother of Dragons, and she was taming her monster.
The next morning, I woke with her head on my chest, her small body curled against mine under the rumpled sheets. The sun was streaming through the high, barred windows.
Her hand was resting over my heart.
For the first time since I'd left Asgard, since I'd died as David, I didn't feel lost. I didn't feel like a "variant."
I felt her stir. She nuzzled against my chest, a soft, sleepy sound, before her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at me, and a slow, beautiful, 'sated' smile spread across her face.
"Good morning... my Vizier," she whispered.
The pact was sealed. Not in words, but in fire, sweat, and a shared, desperate need. She was my Queen. And I was her God.
And as I looked at her, a cold, Loki-like thought struck me, a thought David's morality couldn't suppress. This intimacy, this act... it wasn't just pleasure. It was a binding.
A binding that could, perhaps, have... consequences.