Perpetual

As Steve’s lectures about virtue echoed in Bucky’s mind, the man had already backed up the car and had been waiting in front of Elena’s house for minutes. You’re a monster, he muttered to himself while parking. All he could think about was pulling Elena into his arms. His body buzzed with anticipation as he strode quickly toward the house. The thought of wrapping himself around her soft form soon… He reached to knock but, finding the door ajar, slipped quietly inside.

Well, this wasn’t even the last thing he expected to see. Sweet, innocent Elena lay with her head tilted back against the couch, a statue-like blond man atop her—no, not just atop her, but inside her. Elena’s legs were wrapped around his waist. Thor was naked, her dress hiked up to her hips…

Thor gripped Elena’s jaw with one hand, her hair tangled in his other fist as he moved in slow, deep thrusts.

“While I’ve been waiting here for you,” he growled, “not only did you spend all week in Loki’s bed, but now you’re dating old men, Elena?”

She giggled. “But you said I could flirt with older men.”

Thor caught her lower lip between his teeth, groaning. “Only if Loki or I are with you.”

“But I didn’t set up the date! It was Iolanda’s doing.”

Elena let out a shaky breath as Thor hit a sensitive spot. “Thor!”

He whispered sweetly against her lips. “You should’ve told her, ‘No, I already have two lovers.’”

Elena whimpered. “Are you insane?! I can’t tell anyone about you two.”

Loki was one of the “villains” Stephen and Wanda had bargained with to secure their own happy ending. I don’t care how it happens—I want Elena, Loki had declared. “And Thor, he'll truly be my brother. He'll be in my life. He'll love me this time. Those are my terms.”

Neither Wanda nor Stephen wanted to agree, as they were close to their own happy ending. But this new universe had spiraled slightly out of control. Thankfully, only the two of them retained memories of their past lives. So when things went a little sideways—like Thor and Loki sharing Elena—no one came to complain.

“I don’t know, Elena,” Thor murmured against her lips. “I don’t think people would judge you if you tell them you have two boyfriends.” He kissed her until she trembled. “After all, you’re a sweet little princess with… high demands.”

A door creaked. Elena tried to sit up, but Thor laughed. “Darling, who’d dare enter this house while I’m here?”

“Thor!”

He chastised her, speeding up his rhythm. “Focus on me, Elena, or I’ll have to remind you where your attention belongs.”

She gasped. “God! Is this not you trying?”

“I haven’t even started.” Thor dragged his teeth along her neck. “I’m furious, Elena. You wore the slutty little dress I bought you, went on a date with another man, and gave him a show. What should your punishment be?”

She giggled. “Oh, great Thor! Please, spare me!”—a nod to mythology—“I had to make this small sacrifice to stop my brother from killing you and your brother!”

Thor pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at her theatrics. “So… all of this was for our sake?”

Elena nodded sweetly.

Thor tapped a finger between her breasts. “And this cleavage?” Another nod.

“The makeup I ruined the moment you walked in?”

Another nod.

Thor nearly lost himself. Gods—was he made solely to pleasure this girl?

“Was the man at least handsome?”

She whispered, “My eyes see no one but you and your brother, Great Thor. I didn’t notice.”

Thor pretended to ponder. “Hmm…”

Elena begged, “Can I finish now?”

“I don’t know. Only good girls get to finish, and you haven’t been very good today.”

“Thor!”

He chuckled. “Fine.” As he gave her what she wanted, he buried his face in her hair. When she began crying out, he pulled back to study her face. “Shh. Don’t tempt me further—you’re already unbearable.”

Elena blinked up at him with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, but Thor… you’re too good!”

“Alright. I’ll help you finish. Keep your eyes on mine, understood?”

She nodded breathlessly.

“Good girl.”

Locked in Thor’s intense gaze, Elena reached her peak. Afterward, both were drenched. Thor carried her to the bedroom, and before sleep claimed her, she felt his lips brush her forehead.

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

* * *

Bucky gripped the steering wheel, still reeling from what he’d seen. Driving in this state was reckless, but all he could think was get home, confront Pietro, make him pay. That smug bastard had called Elena “innocent”—but Bucky would shatter the illusion. “Your precious girl has two lovers, and she’s fucking them both!” He’d roar it, relish the shock on Pietro’s face, maybe even throw a punch for good measure.

Yet even now, Elena’s breathy moans echoed in his mind, and his traitorous body burned. He wanted to—

A figure materialized in the road. Bucky slammed the brakes, the car skidding sideways. His ears rang. Through the haze, he glimpsed a crimson cloak.

“What the hell—?”

Stephen Strange yanked the door open with a flick of his wrist. “Elena, Elena, Elena,” he sneered, looming over Bucky. “Must you find her in every lifetime? I made her a villain’s plaything here, and still you—” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No matter. You’ll forget her, Barnes.”

Bucky thrashed, but Strange’s palm pressed to his forehead. Ice flooded his veins, and with it—her. Elena’s laugh, her scent, the way she’d once traced his metal arm like it was something precious… Gone.

Strange hesitated, staring at the hollow shell left behind. “Pathetic,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

* * *

Pietro lay sprawled on the bed, watching Iolanda arch above him. Her crimson nails dug into his shoulders as she moved, her laughter sharp and bright. “Pietro,” she sighed, tossing her hair.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he groaned, hands roaming her waist.

Stephen watched, invisible, unseen.

He’d long since mastered the art of silence, of folding himself into the shadows. But here, now—it was agony. Iolanda’s scent (jasmine and iron), the hitch in her breath as Pietro’s thumbs brushed her ribs, the way her pulse fluttered at her throat…

Stephen whisper in his own mind. Mine. The word clawed at his ribs. She should be mine. “Enjoy it while you can Pietro,” he whispered, voice swallowed by the dark. “You’ll be dead soon.”

Iolanda froze.

Not at his words—she couldn’t hear him—but at the sudden chill. At the pressure, like phantom fingers skimming her spine. Her gaze darted to the mirror, searching for nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Pietro murmured, following her stare.

She forced a smirk. “Just thinking… should we try the mirror?”

Stephen’s breath hitched. Yes. Look at me. See me.

But she didn’t. Couldn’t.

As Pietro lifted her, Stephen’s hand ghosted over her arm—a caress only the air felt. “Is this how he touches you?” he breathed. “Does he know your skin hums like a live wire?”

Iolanda shivered, laughing too loud. “Pietro—”

Stephen’s fist clenched. The lamp flickered.

She didn’t notice.

* * *

The morning sun spilled through the kitchen windows, gilding Thor’s broad shoulders as he moved with the practiced ease of a man who’d memorized the rhythm of this dance—the sizzle of butter in the pan, the whisk of eggs in a bowl, the low hum of contentment in his chest. Elena watched him from her throne of polished marble countertop, her bare feet swinging idly against the cabinets. The scent of vanilla and crisping bacon wrapped around her like a lazy embrace, but restlessness prickled under her skin.

“Give me a task,” she demanded, plucking a sprig of thyme from the herb garden wilting by the window. She twirled it between her fingers, the green sharp and herbal against the gold of her nail polish. “Or I’ll wither away from boredom. Turn to dust. A tragic end for your beloved princess.”

Thor turned, spatula in hand, and the world stilled. Light caught in the honeyed strands of his beard, in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he laughed—a sound like distant thunder, warm and resonant. “Beloved,” he echoed, closing the distance between them. His calloused palm cradled her cheek, thumb brushing the apple of her cheekbone. “A princess doesn’t wither. She commands.” He kissed her then, slow and sweet, a counterpoint to the crackle of bacon behind him. “Command me, Elena.”

She nipped his lower lip, a flash of teeth and mischief. “Kneel.”

He obliged without hesitation, his knees meeting the tile as his hands settled on her thighs. The cold marble bit into her skin, a contrast to the heat of his mouth as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. Elena’s breath hitched.

The front door slammed.

Thor muttered to her, "Here comes your other servant, Your Majesty."

“A date, Elena?” Loki’s voice sliced through the moment, sharp as the obsidian-edged dagger he’d once gifted her (a “joke,” he’d claimed, though his eyes had glinted with something darker). He stood in the doorway, his tailored coat dusted with autumn leaves, his hair windswept into artful disarray. The chill of outside clung to him, a living thing.

Thor rose, unrepentant, and Elena’s pulse stuttered at the sight of them side by side—Thor, sunlight incarnate; Loki, a storm given flesh.

“Snitch,” Elena accused, swatting Thor’s arm.

Thor grabbed the girl's face with both hands and whispered before giving her a heart-wrenching kiss "You didn't think I would hide something like that from my brother?" He turned to Loki "I saw the guy's Tinder profile. He was handsome. And Elena looked beautiful on the date."

Elena squealed "You're a dead man now Thor!"

Thor smiled dangerously "Is that so?"

"Is that so!"

"Loki, she was also wearing the dress I bought. The one that hugged her whole body?"

Elena screamed as Loki hugged the girl sitting on the counter "Put me down, you Frost Giant!"

Loki laughed "You little puny human girl! You shouldn't have said that! I think someone deserves to be treated like a princess."

Elena giggled "No!"

Loki reached to lock the door after carrying Elena into the bedroom, but Thor had followed them "Loki..."

Loki rolled his eyes "Okay, come be his emotional support dog. You're no better than a Golden anyway." He gently tossed her onto the bed.

Elena squirmed excitedly on the bed "Oh, I'm stuck in a bedroom with two Asgardian gods. Oh my God! It's so scary." She said in a fake scared tone that made both men laugh.

Thor raised his eyebrows "Elena, don't make Loki angry anymore."

"What happens?" she challenged. "Will he turn blue?"

Loki shook his head, laughing. “Come here, let me show you!” He grabbed her by the ankle, pulled her down the bed, and lay on top of her. Their faces were so close. He brushed his lips against Elena’s with a slowness that drove her crazy. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying… well…” Elena swallowed. “I acted like a sl*t during the date.”

Loki grinned "Is that so?"

The girl nodded.

“I see Thor didn’t punish you enough?”

Elena faked a look of embarrassment. “He did his best, but it wasn’t very successful.”

Thor protested. “Hey!”

Loki nodded. “I see. Then he needs to be punished too.”

The girl clapped her hands. “Hooray!”

Thor threatened from where he sat above the bed. “Elena, you’re playing with fire.”

"He's right about that," Loki said, grabbing Elena by the wrists. He got off her and pulled her into a sitting position. "Thor, come here and pick up Elena. Hold her still while I take care of her. And you can't touch her, no matter how much she begs."

Elena and Thor said at the same time. "That's not fair!"

Loki kissed her deeply. "Guess who doesn't care?"

Thor picked Elena up and sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs were over Thor's. Elena swallowed hard as Loki knelt in front of her. "Is it too late to apologize?"

"Quite," the man replied in a dangerous voice. He placed Elena's bare legs, who was wearing Thor's shirt, on his shoulders. "Thor, unbutton the shirt, but don't take it off."

Elena was already writhing. When Thor pressed himself against her while he was unbuttoning the buttons, she received a warning from Loki, "Thor cannot touch you Elena, so do not tire yourself."

Afterward, chaos reigned as usual. These moments—when both Thor and Loki found themselves in Elena’s bedroom at the same time—were rare, but whenever they collided, it became a contest of dominance, a performance of control over her. Yet the truth hummed beneath every touch, every whispered command: Elena alone held the reins. They knew it. They’d always known it. But the pretense—the illusion of power—was a game they refused to stop playing.

Loki’s hands were a paradox—ice and wildfire, methodical and merciless. He pinned Elena’s wrists above her head, his lips trailing down her neck with the precision of a man dissecting a prayer. “You want chaos?” he murmured against her pulse. “Then beg for it.”

She arched into him, her laugh fraying into a gasp as his teeth found the delicate hinge of her jaw. “You first.”

Thor’s growl vibrated against her back, his chest a furnace searing through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Enough games, Loki.” His palm slid down her arm, fingers interlacing with hers—a tether, an anchor. “You’ll break her.”

“Break her?” Loki’s laugh was a blade’s edge. He leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. “She’s already shattered, brother. You just refuse to see the cracks.” It was true. Thor was refusing to see and Loki was always edging her by touching those cracks. She needed it. She needed the both. Elena’s retort died as Loki’s mouth crashed into hers, all hunger and spite. His kiss was a battle—a clash of teeth and tongue, a claim that left her breathless. Thor’s hands tightened on her hips, his groan a rumble of thunder in her ear. “Elska,” he warned, the old endearment rough with restraint.

But restraint was a language Loki refused to speak. His fingers danced down her ribs, skirting the edge of cruelty, as he whispered against her lips, “Tell him, Elena. Tell him how you crave the storm.”

She shuddered, her nails biting into Loki’s shoulders. “I’m not afraid of storms.”

“Liar.” Thor’s voice was a raw scrape of sound as his lips found the curve of her shoulder. “You fear what happens when the lightning strikes.”

Loki’s laugh was dark silk. “Let it strike Thor. She is faking it. She has no fear. Look at her, our sweet goddess. ”

What followed was a blur of heat and friction—Loki’s ruthless hands mapping every secret she’d sworn to keep, Thor’s mouth gentling the bruises left in his brother’s wake. The air thickened with the scent of salt and sweat, with the electric charge of words unspoken. When Loki finally pulled back, his pupils blown wide, Elena’s name was a curse on his lips.

“Look at me,” Thor demanded, tilting her face to his. His eyes were a tempest—chaos leashed, but barely. “This isn’t a game. Not for us.”

She knew. She’d always known.

Loki’s fingers tangled in her hair, forcing her gaze to his. “You want us?” His voice cracked, raw and rare. “Then take us. All of us. The scars. The rage. The goddamn mess. Only we can give you that, Elena. You are free to look outside, but you know that at the end of the day, what you are looking for can only be found in our arms.”

Elena’s answer was a kiss—to Loki’s fury, to Thor’s resolve, to the fragile thing they’d built in the wreckage of their ordinary lives.