Honeymoon

by Samantha MacLeod

  Loki stopped me with cool hands wrapped around my arms. “Inside?” he asked, tilting his head toward the door and raising an eyebrow.

  “No.” My voice was already thick with arousal. I pushed his hands off my arms and leaned into him, kissing his neck, feeling his pulse quicken under my lips. “Here. Now.”

  “Don’t you want me to give you a tour of the cabin?” he asked, his fingers sending shivers of electricity through my body as they ran along my neck.

  “It’s one room. I think I got it.”

  He laughed as I climbed onto him, his lips meeting mine. I felt the length of his cock pressing into my stomach, hard and hot against my skin, and I sighed into his mouth. He gasped as my fingers found his shaft, gently guiding him into me. Making us one. I lowered myself onto him slowly, savoring the feel of his skin against mine, his fingers in my hair, the fullness of our bodies joined together. The world fell away, and then all that mattered was his lips, his hands, his hips against mine.

  “Oh, damn,” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  He laughed again, grabbing my hips. And then he stood, lifting me with him. He pressed me against the wall of the cabin, fucking me hard, waves of pleasure crashing through my body as he entered me again and again. I leaned into the rough wood, arching my back, offering myself to him, gasping as I cried his name over and over. I closed my eyes as the fire of my orgasm burned through me, leaving me trembling and breathless. Loki moaned and gasped against my neck; his entire body shuddered as he came inside me.

  I clung to his shoulders as my trembling feet again found the porch, and we stood together, breathing hard, our arms wrapped around each other. He kissed my forehead as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, and then he pulled back, bringing my fingers to his lips.

  “Ready for the tour?” he asked.

  I met his eyes and shivered at the spark that passed between us. He kissed my fingers again, slowly, before turning to open the door. I sighed, admiring the lean curves of his naked body. My husband, I thought, following him into the cabin. My husband.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Loki woke me before dawn, kissing my neck softly until I turned to see him smiling in the pale gray light of early morning. “Come with me,” he whispered, rising from the bed.

  I threaded my fingers through his and walked with him to the porch. I could hear the humming throb of the waterfall, could see the dim outline of the forest spread below us.

  “What is it?”

  “Wait,” he whispered, standing behind me, his head resting on mine.

  I waited, breathing the soft, still air, feeling his chest rise and fall against my back. Just when I was about to ask if this was a joke, there was a soft, golden undulation in the distance, the twinkling ripple of light against the far ocean.

  And then dawn came to Álfheim.

  The sun rose behind us, and suddenly the ocean was molten gold, the foam-tipped waves gleaming like beaten metal. Sunlight swept across the water, revealing the surf crashing across an endless, shimmering strand, revealing the braided mouth of the River of Light. When dawn reached the leafy treetops, thousands of white birds took flight, filling the azure sky with their silent dance.

  “There are no seasons on Álfheim,” he whispered as the golden light spread across the forest, transforming the River of Light into a thousand glittering rainbows. “Mornings are always like this.”

  I gasped, brought my hand to my mouth. My vision began to blur as my eyes filled with tears. I blinked them away, not wanting to miss the scene unfolding in front of me. The heightened colors of Álfheim made the view seem like a Bierstadt painting, like his mythically gorgeous, sun-saturated images of Yosemite.

  “This is—” I stopped. Words failed me.

  “Until this morning,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear, “I was the only person who had ever seen this.”

  The golden morning dissolved in a flood of tears.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling me inside. “Breakfast will be ready by now.”

  * * * * * * *

  “I chose this spot very carefully,” Loki told me as we shared the breakfast of Val-Hall. “Far enough the Light-elves wouldn’t stumble over. Defensible from all sides. Hell of a view. And I linked it to Val-Hall, so there’s always food and drink.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said.

  “I loved stories about Álfheim as a child,” he said, reaching for his coffee. “I swore I would live here—What?”

  I shook my head, realizing I’d been staring at him. “It’s just… It’s difficult to imagine you as a child.”

  “I was the bastard son of Laufeyiar in ancient Útgarðar. Small, weak. No father to protect me. Difficult just about covers it.”

  I reached across the table, wrapping my hand around his cool fingers.

  He shrugged. “I’ve no regrets,” he said, his voice level and measured. “I wasn’t strong, so I became clever. My mother was low-ranking, so I became ambitious. I was hardly more than a child when I met Óðinn, when he swore the oath of blood-brotherhood with me. I thought life among the Ӕsir would be…different.”

  He glanced out the window, then turned back to me. “Anyway. Those are ancient stories.” He wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug and smiled at me.

  “So…” I hesitated. “Are we in trouble? Here?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” he said, cheerfully. “Considerable trouble.”

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Tell me about the Light-elves.”

  “They used to be just the elves,” he said. “Long ago, even before my time, there was a war. The victors forced the defeated to leave Álfheim, and they declared themselves the Light-elves.”

  “And are the Light-elves…the good ones?”

  Loki snorted. “Oh, fuck, no. The Light-elves are sanctimonious bastards, and they couch their cruelty in self-righteousness. They’re worse than the Dark-elves.”

  “And you made a deal with them.”

  Loki reached for my hand. “My wife, would you like to have children?”

  I coughed and gagged on my coffee. “What? With you?”

  “Well, I can’t say I cherish the thought of someone else impregnating you,” he said, smiling at me in the golden morning light.

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Of course. Happens all the time. In fact—” he stood and leaned close to me, inhaling deeply against my neck. My skin flushed at his breath. “You’ll be ready in about a week’s time.”

  I closed my eyes. “One second,” I whispered.

  He kissed me on the cheek, gently, and then walked away. I heard the door close behind him. I took a few deep breaths and waited until my heart was beating normally before I opened my eyes. I could see mist rising off the waterfall, the forests of Álfheim spread before me, the glittering ribbon of the River of Light dividing the trees. I looked down at the golden plates of Val-Hall on the small table. When I turned my head, I could see Loki’s back silhouetted against the sun-sparkled ocean. The wind lifted his flaming red hair from his pale neck. Loki Laufeyiarson of the Ӕsir. God of fire and lies.

  My husband.

  I closed my eyes and examined my life.

  I fell in love for the first time when I was thirteen years old. His name was Peter, Peter Richardson. He was a year older than me, with curly brown hair and an easy smile. It took me three months to get the courage to speak to him; in our very first conversation, he mentioned his girlfriend. I sought refuge in the junior high library, as usual, hiding in the furthest corner to wipe the tears from my cheeks. And, when I could see again, my eyes settled on a book with a Viking ship on the cover. A book of Norse mythology.

  My brother told me I’d never have a boyfriend, and I believed him. I didn’t even bother in high school. No one approached me, and I hardly spoke to anyone, let alone anyone I found attractive. I felt a flicker of hope in college, especially during my first year at UC Davis. It was college, after all. A girl who could read German and tal
k about the theoretical implications of ancient mythos might not be such a turn-off in college.

  But it wasn’t until my senior year that I actually got a boyfriend, Doug McInnes. Doug didn’t believe in marriage, and he didn’t want children. I’d spent the past seven years telling myself I would never even have a boyfriend, let alone a chance at children, so I told Doug I didn’t want to get married either.

  Then I started fucking a god, and things got really weird.

  I pushed back from the table and closed the cabin door behind me as I walked to Loki. He stood at the edge of the waterfall, the rising mist curling around his slender body. The morning light caught the water droplets as they fell, making the air a swirling ocean of rainbows. He turned to face me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “Yes,” I said, just loud enough to be heard over the crashing roar of the water. “Yes, I do want children. But not in a week. I mean, I haven’t even gotten a job offer yet. And I’d like a few years to get established, first.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Wait…” My stomach clenched. “Do you want children? With me?”

  “Yes. Very much,” he said, leaning toward me. Our lips met and I melted into him as we kissed, slowly and intimately, the soft mist of the waterfall gusting around our bodies.

  I pulled back and stared at him, his heartbreakingly beautiful face, his sparkling eyes. I put my hand on his chest.

  “Now. Stop trying to distract me,” I said. “What deal did you make with the elves? And exactly how screwed are we right now?”

  * * * * * * *

  “After the war,” Loki said, as we sat together on the porch of the cabin, watching the rainbows dance in the mist off the waterfall, “the Light-elves forced the Dark-elves out of Álfheim. The Dark-elves have been refugees ever since, living in Svartálfaheimr with the dwarves. And Svartálfaheimr is…” Loki paused. “Let’s just say it’s not the most ideal of all Nine Realms.”

  “So the Dark-elves… They want to get back here?”

  “Of course,” he said. “They’re constantly trying to get back here. Didn’t the Light-elves strike you as just a tiny bit warlike?”

  I nodded. Hitting my husband with an arrow as soon as we arrived did seem to fit the definition of “warlike.”

  Loki sighed and stretched. “About a millennia ago, the Dark-elves found a way back to Álfheim. A secret way. For hundreds of years they fought, and the Light-elves still couldn’t find the Dark-elves’ passage. They couldn’t stop the invasion.”

  I sensed where this was going. “Until you offered to help.”

  He nodded. “For a price. As I said, I chose this location very carefully.”

  “So the Light-elves gave you this place. And you gave them?”

  “I closed the passage,” he said. “With a gate, of sorts. And I tied the gate to a physical artifact, something the Light-elves would appreciate. A big, luminescent crystal. They love that kind of shit.”

  “But they shot you with an arrow?”

  “Exactly. It seems Asador is no longer honoring our agreement.” He shrugged. “But he must want something from me. From both of us. Otherwise he would have just thrown us into his extremely unpleasant dungeons.”

  I was silent for a minute, watching my husband’s face in the shifting light coming off the waterfall’s mist. “How did the Dark Elves find that passage in the first place?” I asked.

  Loki only smiled.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “So do we have a plan?” I asked.

  It was late evening, and we were eating together in the thick, rich light streaming through the windows of the cabin. The gleaming plates of Val-Hall had appeared just as the sun began to dip toward the ocean, laden tonight with thick steaks, boiled new potatoes, soft biscuits, and delicate wooden bowls filled with salad greens.

  Loki raised an eyebrow at me as he drained his goblet of mead. The goblet refilled as soon as he put it back on the table. “You always think I have a plan,” he said, his pale eyes dancing in the evening light.

  I leaned back in my chair, smiling at him.

  “The Light-elves are not exactly trusting,” he said, lifting his fork. “That’s why it wasn’t enough for me to close the entrance. They wanted something in return, something they could keep. Something they could watch.”

  “Hence the crystal,” I said.

  “Hence the crystal. But the crystal is basically glass. And glass is quite fragile.” He smiled. It was not an especially welcoming smile.

  “And if the crystal breaks…”

  “Then the gate will open again, and chaos will erupt across Álfheim. I’m quite certain the Dark-elves are watching their secret entrance, ready for another chance at regaining this realm.”

  “So where is the crystal?”

  Loki shrugged, his hair falling across his cheek. “I’ve no idea. I assume it’s somewhere in Asador’s palace.”

  I reached across the table and brushed his hair back. Loki took my hand in his and kissed the inside of my wrist. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met; I was suddenly no longer especially interested in dinner.

  “Not a bad plan,” I said. “We find the crystal, we break it…”

  “We unleash hell,” he said as he released my hand. “Now I don’t doubt Asador has a plan of his own. But I have the advantage.”

  “The advantage? What advantage?”

  “My darling, I have you,” he said, coming to his feet.

  “How is that an advantage?”

  “Enough plans,” he said, offering me his arm as I stepped out of my chair. I took it, and he pulled me close, crushing me against his chest. “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes for a honeymoon,” he whispered, and my skin tingled as my dress vanished.

  I smiled, moving my hips against his. “Now you’re overdressed,” I whispered, my lips tracing the curve of his neck.

  I felt his chest vibrate as he laughed. But he hesitated, watching me with an unusual intensity burning in his blue eyes.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He leaned so close I could feel the cool skin of his cheek pressed against mine. “Do you want to try something different?” he whispered. His breath on my neck made my skin tingle as his hands ran down my back.

  Something different. I shivered. He’s a two-thousand-year old, shapeshifting, trickster god.

  That could literally mean anything.

  I shrugged in his arms. “Sure,” I said. “Honeymoon, right?”

  His eyes danced, and then he kissed me, slowly and deeply, for a long time. My body tingled against his, shivering and trembling as his hands moved across my hips. I had no idea what he was doing, but his tongue and his lips were so distracting, I didn’t care.

  He pulled away and I sighed, blinking, trying to focus. His face seemed different, somehow. Softer. He took my hand and moved it slowly to his chest—

  I jumped. “What the—”

  Loki tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. My hand cupped the warm skin of Loki’s perfect, round breast. His body moved against mine, softer. Curvier.

  “Something different,” Loki whispered.

  “Okay,” I said, slowly.

  I pulled back, but he pressed his lips against mine. Those, at least, felt the same. As we kissed, I ran my hand very lightly over the unfamiliar swell of his breast, and his nipple grew hard against my palm.

  “Oh, very nice,” he whispered.

  I shivered again, flushed with heat and desire. And then something felt very different; there was an unfamiliar pressure, and an ache, between my legs. I pulled away from his hungry lips and turned to his ear. “What did you do to me?” I whispered.

  He smiled and wrapped his fingers around mine, pulling my hand from the curve of his breast and down the length of his new, female body. To the space between my legs.

  I gasped. “Oh, fuck!”

  He laughed against my neck. “What do you think?”

  I looked down. There was a very long, ve
ry stiff cock erupting from my pubic hair. I could feel it; it was so hard it almost hurt. I swallowed. It felt strangely vulnerable to have my arousal be so obvious.

  I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know what to do with this,” I said.

  “Oh, you know exactly what to do with it,” he whispered, his breath soft and warm against my skin. He stepped back and lay on the bed, his legs spread.

  I blinked. “You’re a...a woman,” I said.

  Loki laughed again. I’ve never been attracted to a woman before, but watching the curves of Loki’s breasts, the swell of red hair between his legs, my new cock stiffened and throbbed. Oh, damn, I thought. Maybe I do know what to do with it.

  “Well,” he said, arching his hips, “don’t keep me waiting.”

  I bit my lip and climbed on the bed. He wrapped his legs around mine and then reached between my legs. Electricity surged through my body as he touched me, making me gasp. It felt so good, so fast. My hips pushed against his, and he guided my cock into his body.

  I moaned, low and deep in my throat, as his entire body embraced me. “You’re so warm,” I said. “And so—oh—” He started to move his hips against mine, and I completely lost my train of thought.

  “Now, typically,” he said, his voice thick, “it’s considered gauche for the cock to come first.”

  I moaned again, biting my lip and trying to slow down. My legs trembled, and I just wanted to thrust against him, to push deeper and deeper. “I—I don’t—” I gasped as he grabbed my thighs.

  “Just breathe,” he whispered, running his hands along my back.

  I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as the waves of pleasure crashed over me, making my entire body tremble. I tried to slow my hips, to remember why I was trying to slow my hips, but Loki was moaning and thrusting against me, and I couldn’t think any more, I could only feel, feel his new body beneath me, feel the familiar burn of passion and arousal as his skin touched mine, as our bodies danced and flickered together—