Honeymoon

by Samantha MacLeod

  Loki cried out, a primal, animal gasp of pleasure; his new body spasmed and tightened around me. And I lost control. My hips thrust faster and faster against his, my head tilted back, my eyes closed, his name ripped out of my lips. My orgasm came from somewhere deep inside my body, and it crashed through every muscle, drowning me.

  I blinked as my mind attempted to recover from the oblivion of that orgasm. Loki’s smell surrounded me, his salt and woodsmoke. I took a deep, juttering breath and realized I’d collapsed on top of him. I opened my mouth to apologize and then gasped as I realized I was still inside him, and so sensitive it almost hurt to pull apart.

  “Oh. Wow,” I said, as I fell back against the pillows.

  Loki propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at me. “Not bad,” he said, running his fingers along my arm. “For your first time.”

  I laughed and shook my head as the room slowly came back into focus. “So that’s what it feels like.”

  “That’s what it feel like,” he said, leaning to kiss my forehead. “What did you think?”

  I closed my eyes and waited for my heartbeat to stop thundering in my ears before I responded. “Different,” I said, finally. “Intense. And, uh, fast.”

  He laughed, bringing my fingers to his lips. “You get better at controlling it,” he said, kissing my fingertips gently.

  My body shivered again, and I felt a low tightness spreading across my abdomen. I reached for his chest, cupping the curve of his breast.

  “I can honestly say you’re the first woman I’ve ever wanted to fuck,” I said.

  He laughed, and his eyes sparkled. “Want to try it again?”

  I shrugged, leaning to meet his lips. “Sure.”

  * * * * * * *

  For the first time ever, Loki fell asleep before me.

  We curled together on the bed, his head against my neck, his breathing deep and even. I felt a slow tingling move across my abdomen and hips and thighs, building and then dissipating gently as the magic he’d cast over our bodies dissolved.

  I smiled in the darkness and ran my hands over his shoulders, his back. His skin felt rough and uneven; his real self, then. No illusions.

  I took a deep breath and moved my hand to my own body, running down the length of my stomach to the space between my legs. Normal, I thought, with a flush of relief. Back to normal.

  Moonlight shimmered through the windows, casting deep shadows in the cabin. The waterfall thundered in the background. I didn’t feel particularly tired, and I slipped out of Loki’s arms, quietly coming to my feet. The plates from the late night meal we’d eaten between rounds of fucking each other senseless were long gone, but the glasses of mead were still there. I picked one up and smiled at its weight; it was still full. Loki did that on purpose. The empty plates return to Val-Hall, but the glasses of mead remain, constantly refilling.

  The door opened soundlessly and I slipped through, carrying my mead to the edge of the cabin’s porch, then sitting down to drink the honey wine as I swung my legs off the edge. The stars in Álfheim seemed brighter, more impressive. They sparkled and danced in the velvet sky, reflected in the distant undulations of the ocean. A gentle, occasional birdsong drifted past the roar of the waterfall, along with the soft trill of what I assumed were insects.

  Apropos of nothing, I found myself remembering Laura and Vance’s wedding. It had been the world’s most traditional, boring wedding. A full Catholic mass, over an hour long. I smiled into my mead. I must have wished Loki was there about fifty times. Especially at the reception.

  They sent me a Christmas card, Laura and Vance. She’s pregnant now. I realized with a jolt their next Christmas card would probably feature a baby. And what the hell are we going to do for a Christmas card? I snorted. Season’s Greetings from the God of Lies? We had a lovely honeymoon in Álfheim, despite a spot of trouble with the local Light-elves?

  “That’s assuming the plan works, and we can even get out of here,” I whispered to the darkness.

  I drained my mead and stretched my hands over my head, yawning. The Light-elves seemed like a distant, abstract concept at the moment; my entire body was pleasantly sore from the craziest night of sex I’d ever had, and curling up next to Loki was starting to sound really appealing. I clambered to my feet and hesitated, watching starlight play across the distant ocean and the subtle curves of the River of Light.

  “Fuck the Christmas cards,” I whispered, and I went inside.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For our last night at the cabin, Loki convinced me to sleep outside. He moved the mattress to the soft grass, away from the mist of the waterfall, and together we watched the sun sink into the ocean, watched the clouds turn golden, then scarlet, and then fade from pink to gray. The stars came out slowly, first one, then dozens, and then hundreds. It took me a long time to realize why they were so much brighter in Álfheim.

  “There’s no Milky Way,” I said, suddenly. “The sky, it’s just dark.”

  “Of course,” Loki whispered. “But watch the ocean.”

  There was a faint glimmer across the water, like the glow of a distant city. I was reminded of driving to Los Angeles at night, the way you can see the lights of the city gleaming against the night sky before you see them nestled in the dark ground.

  “Is that getting brighter?” I asked.

  Loki wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my neck. And then I heard the first distant stirrings of music, music that was somehow familiar.

  I turned to Loki. “Is that Miles Davis?” I asked. “Did you do that? How did you do that?”

  He laughed against my chest and reached under the pillows, pulling out an iPhone. “Magic,” he whispered. “Now, watch the sky.”

  I turned back to the alien stars as Kind of Blue echoed across the forests of Álfheim. The sky was definitely lighter now, with an odd, golden glow. It was almost moonlight, but not quite...

  An enormous, swirling, golden orb crested over the dark waters of the Álfheim sea. It was easily four times the size of Earth’s moon, and the surface was mottled, churning with vermilion, crimson, and burgundy.

  “Oh!” I gasped, bringing my hand to my mouth.

  “It’s a gas giant,” said Loki. “Like Jupiter from Midgard, just a bit closer. You only see it once every four or five days.”

  “It’s amazing,” I whispered, watching the gas giant rise over the ocean. Its golden glow reached across the calm, dark waters, stretching almost to the mouth of the River of Light.

  “Yes, it is,” Loki whispered, bending to rain kisses along the tender stretch of my neck. His hands moved gently over my waist, lifting my shirt. “Amazing.”

  I raised my arms, letting him pull the soft fabric of my shirt over my head. He tossed it into the grass and brought his face to my neck, breathing deeply as he ran his hands along my chest, cupping my breasts. I leaned back against him.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and his lips were on mine before I could disagree.

  I relaxed in his arms, opening to him slowly as his lips danced over mine. My eyes closed as I traced the arc of his neck, twining my fingers in his hair. Beautiful. No one had ever called me beautiful before Loki.

  He pulled away from our kiss and I sighed against his cheek. His lips traveled along my jaw and under my ear, kissing me, breathing against me, making me tremble. I turned in his arms and shivered when I met his ice-blue eyes above his high cheekbones, his perfect lips.

  “You’re the one who’s beautiful,” I said.

  He laughed. His voice carried a sharp edge. “My appearance is entirely a lie. Illusions. Transformations. That’s what I am. But you—”

  Loki ran his fingertips across the bridge of my nose, the nose I’d always hated, and then dropped his hand to cup my breasts, the breasts I felt were pathetically small.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered against my neck.

  My eyes stung with tears. I opened my mouth, but whatever I may had said vanished as he pressed his lips
against mine. He kissed me slowly, delicately, and desire flashed through my body like wildfire. I wanted him now, wanted Loki of the Ӕsir. The one who called me beautiful. I shifted on the mattress, yanking off my pants and underwear before turning to straddle him.

  “Such a rush,” he whispered, running his fingers along the back of my neck. “My wife is so impatient.”

  “You do tend to have that effect on me,” I said, my voice rough with arousal.

  “Well, tonight,” he said as he wrapped his fingers around my thighs and lifted me onto his lap, “let’s take it slowly.”

  I trembled as I felt his skin against mine, his cool, muscular chest, his strong thighs beneath me. My legs wrapped around his waist, and he pulled me close. Shivers of pleasure ran through my body. We both gasped as he entered me.

  “Slowly,” he said, his cool hands tracing the curve of my hips.

  “How slowly?”

  “As slowly as we possibly can.”

  Our lips met and the realm of Álfheim fell away, dissolving until all that was left was the two of us, husband and wife, trading breaths as our hips rolled and danced against each other, our bodies generating sweet heat under the burning, alien stars, as slowly as we could, until we were both gasping and trembling and clinging to each other, every movement releasing another wave of pleasure.

  I tried to hold out, to stop on the crest of my orgasm, to let the pleasure build and build. But when he arched his back to cup my breasts, his hips moving against mine, I could hold back no longer, and the orgasm that had been building for an hour crashed over me. My entire body trembled in his arms, every muscle firing as I cried his name over and over. And then he was kissing me again, slowly, deeply, my body responding to his every movement, opening to him again and again in the burnt sienna light, until I was no longer able to speak, to think; I was an animal, riding waves of pleasure, cresting and coming over and over in his arms, moaning his name until my voice gave out.

  When I became so sensitive that pleasure began to edge into pain, I put my hands on his chest and shook my head. We pulled apart and I collapsed on the mattress, staring into the vermillion swirls of the gas giant above us.

  “Wow,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from cries of pleasure. “You really are a god.”

  He laughed and smiled at me, his face open and relaxed in the dim, golden light. “No,” he whispered. “I’m your husband.”

  His lips brushed mine again, and his hand traced the curve of my stomach toward my sex, touching me softly and gently until my body flooded with heat and I trembled under his hand, aware of nothing but him, his fingers, his mouth, his smell.

  “I love you,” I gasped.

  “As I love you,” he answered, his breath soft and warm against my skin, and then pleasure flooded my body again and I could not say anything at all.

  * * * * * * *

  “There they are,” Loki said.

  Our bodies were curled together on the mattress, watching morning come to Álfheim. Sunlight poured over the ocean; the white birds took flight across the River of Light. Our mattress and tangle of blankets was still in shadow, but the light crept across the waterfall. It would reach us soon.

  “What?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  “Over there.” He sat up and pointed along the cliff.

  I turned, following his gaze. I could just see a narrow plume of pale blue smoke rising from the distant forest. “Is that the Light-elves?” I asked, a cold knot of fear settling in the pit of my stomach.

  “It is indeed,” he said. “They won’t be here until tonight. And by then, we’ll be gone.”

  “And where are we going?”

  “To the castle,” he said, smiling. “But if they want to exhaust themselves climbing these cliffs, well, I’d hate to deny them that opportunity. We’ll just leave a nice, friendly note on the door.”

  I smiled and stretched, staring at the forest spread below us. “It really is perfectly defensible.”

  The sunlight reached us, and Loki’s hair gleamed like flame in the morning light. “They still found me, of course,” he said, and his eyes flashed.

  I reached for his hand. I had suspected this was where he’d fled, where he’d gone to hide after the death of Baldr. The Edda said he went to a house with windows on all sides, next to a waterfall; this cabin seemed to fit the bill.

  “This will work,” I said, hoping my voice would carry a level of confidence I didn’t feel.

  “Of course it will,” he said, taking my hand.

  I shivered. It was not the best time to remember my husband is the god of lies.

  * * * * * * *

  We waited until we could see the dust plume rising from the beach, the sign of the Light-elves’ approach. Loki whistled under his breath, standing on the porch with his arms crossed. His outfit had shifted to become his battle armor, a detail I noted with some alarm.

  “That’s an entire company,” he muttered. “They sent an entire company to collect us.”

  I stood next to him, watching the dust rising in the thick light of late afternoon.

  “Well,” he sighed. “I suppose we should go.”

  I turned to look at the cabin. We’d left a note on the door, as Loki suggested. Gone to castle, it read, with a large smiley face. The note flapped gently in the soft breeze off the waterfall. The cabin looked very lonely, and very vulnerable, in the soft light.

  “You don’t think they’ll…” My voice faltered. Burn it down? Destroy it?

  “I’ve no idea. And I’m afraid we’re not in much of a position to bargain. My darling?” Loki offered me his arm.

  “Just a minute,” I said.

  I wasn’t ready to leave, not just yet. Not empty handed. I walked slowly off the porch, my eyes on the ground, looking for something, something I could hold and carry, something I could bring back to Chicago to convince myself these past three days weren’t just an amazing dream.

  There. I bend down and grabbed a smooth, gray rock about the size of an egg. It fit nicely inside the pocket of my black and gold dress, the dress that matched his battle armor.

  Loki raised an eyebrow. “Souvenir?” he asked.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I was afraid I might cry. He offered me his arm and I took it; we walked together to the transport portal. A moment later we stood beneath the ash tree at the base of the waterfall. I stared up at the sheer cliffs. The wink of sunlight off the glass windows of the cabin was barely visible at this distance. It looked like an absolutely impossible climb.

  I giggled. “The Light-elves are going to be so pissed,” I whispered.

  Loki smiled at me. “Oh, they are indeed. Now, may I escort my lovely wife to the Palace of King Asador, Lord of the Dawn?”

  “I’d be honored,” I said.

  * * * * * * *

  We arrived at the Palace of King Asador just before sunset.

  The palace sat at the top of a steep bluff, overlooking the ocean. My first impression was of onion domes, like Saint Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow, although they lacked the garish colors. Instead, the domes were gentle hues of green and gray, braided together. As we approached I could see delicate leaves covering the domes, fluttering in the soft, coastal breeze.

  “What is this place?” I whispered as we approached the enormous gates.

  “Trees. The palace is alive. Well, most of it, anyway. The elves are very proud.” Loki sounded unimpressed.

  I glanced up, along the trembling leaves on the palace walls, and counted at least a dozen Light-elves on the ramparts with curving, black bows trained on us. I shuddered, remembering the fat arrow I’d pulled from Loki’s shoulder.

  The elf standing in front of the palace gates was even taller than King Asador. He wore two cutlasses around his waist, winking wickedly in the fading light. Loki’s head barely reached the elf’s waist.

  Loki bowed deeply and I followed him, attempting to curtsey. “We are here at the invitation of King Asador, Lord of the Dawn,” Loki said, his voi
ce resonant. “I am Loki Laufeyiarson, one of the Ӕsir of Asgard, and this is my wife—”

  “I know who you are, Lie-Smith,” the elf rumbled. “Follow me. And don’t try anything,” he added, casting a knowing look to the archers along the walls.

  Loki smiled as if this were exactly the reception he’d been hoping for. “It would be our pleasure,” he said, offering me his arm.

  I took it, threading my fingers through his, my back straight and my head held high. I am the wife of an Ӕsir. I will not show fear.

  The massive wooden front gates opened soundlessly, and a handful of tiny, delicate gray-green leaves fluttered through the opening. We followed the guard along a path paved in glimmering blue stones, through a garden filled with laughing fountains and fragrant blossoms. I watched the gardens carefully for a gleam of crystal or the sparkle of gemstones, but I saw nothing.

  The inside of the palace was light and airy, open to the elements. The walls were bare, only braided branches and trunks with the occasional leaf or dangling bunch of fragrant, burgundy flowers. I saw no decorations, no gemstones. No crystals.

  We followed the guard through winding hallways until we reached a room whose far wall was entirely open to the ocean. We were at the top of the bluff, and I tried not to think about how distant the ocean was, or how long it would take you to reach it if you fell from that vast opening. Or were thrown. There was a narrow table in the middle of the room, lit with delicate honey-colored tapers and set with three chairs.

  “Wait here,” said the guard. “Touch nothing.”

  “Such charming hosts, the Light-elves,” Loki whispered as the massive guard retreated.

  “Indeed,” I said, glancing at him.

  His face was perfectly composed, almost amused. His hair lifted and gusted around his high cheekbones and dancing eyes. He looked completely unconcerned, as if there were nowhere else he would rather be. I took a deep breath and tried to force my face into a similar expression.