The desire of our interactions.
“Not that I don’t trust you, God,” you say, “though I am trusting that diverting from the cleared path will not endanger our horses.”
Loki’s shoulders shelter a laugh as he turns his cheek towards you, “You worry not about your own safety?”
“There’s no need.”
“You fear no monsters in the woods? No Jötun’s haunt your anxiety of being off path?”
You smirk, “No Jötun could ever scare me.” You sigh, “And there are no monsters that live in these trees.”
“I never said they lived within the woods,” Loki smirks and kicks his horse to go a bit faster, leading you towards a less dense area.
As you follow him into a clearing the dirt under the hoof of your horse is slowly replaced by loose cobbles at the river’s edge. The bank of the riverbed runs wide and far, the river moving fast and silently between Asgard and Jötunheim. The frosted mountains ahead of you seem too stoic to be real, a part of you imagines they’re simply a photograph in a book. Far easier to accept a lie than the truth when the truth is so very large, and cold.
You slow to a stop, watching Loki lead his horse to the water’s edge. The sun exaggerates the curves of his hair, small curls spawning as he turns his head to you.
Loki waves at you, an invitation, “Come, Goddess, the water is fascinating.”
You heed his request and meander your way down the cobbles until Embla stops just before the water and dips her neck down. You scoot forward as she leans, almost falling, “Woah, friend!” You laugh, “Remember, I am up here.” You tap the side of her neck as she stands back up, shaking out her mane. You pat her once more before removing yourself from her back, letting go of her and letting her walk into the water enough to cover her feet.
Embla is soon joined by Saga as Loki dismounts and joins you, arms crossed behind him as you watch your horses drink before beginning to play in the water.
“Oh, the hostlers will have our heads for this.” You shake your head, “Those saddles are ruined.” You watch as Embla lays in the water, attempting to roll in the cool stream of the shallows.
Loki laughs, “I will dry and repair them when they’re finished. For now, they can ruin them all they wish.”
You hum in response, eyes outlining the mountains before you. The river seems wider than a continent, the mountains the size of a planet. “I suppose that’s true.” Your response to your own thought, that Jötunheim is in fact a planet, is taken by Loki as a response for him.
“You doubt my ability to take care of them?” he asks.
You look at him, puzzled at first, “Ah,” you say, “that was a comment for myself, I apologize. I believe every bit in your keeping abilities.”
Loki raises a brow and nods a silent acceptance. His feet find their way down the shore of the rocky coast after a moment, aimed for a collection of large boulders. Loki dips to sit on the edge of one giant rock, his feet swaying over the water as he takes in the imagery around him.
You stand for a moment and take in the scene in front of you as Loki’s contentment influences your experience. He sits at the water's edge near two horses with the spirits of puppies in water as the breeze pushes through his hair. The loose fabric of his sleeves joins the wind, pushing his shirt against his skin as he closes his eyes and inhales. The sun bounces from the water and onto the blue of his pants, the lighter shades of blue in the weave having a chance to be noticed against the cool gray of the stone he sits on.
Your feet slowly step towards him and your body sits next to his, hand dipping into the water to collect rocks from the bed through the clear water. You lean on your side, sleeve and arm drowning as you move pebbles around in search of a striking color. Each rock you pull from the bank is added to a pile between you and Loki, his hums of approval act as a chorus of satisfaction.
A fingernail smacking a rock draws a hiss from your lips as you dip your hand again as a thought occurs to you. Loki had told you that you were asleep for days, that he decided to wait until the end of this week to answer whether or not you should stay - whether or not he wants you to stay. He had been angry the last time you were together without the structured reason of the festival. But, you’ve had many unstructured interactions this week and he has yet to be angry with you, and has yet to demand answers.
“May I ask an odd question?” You finally speak up.
Loki nods and hums in response, looking over the water as the horses have settled on drinking.
You polish a rock in your palm with the tips of your fingers, “You’ve not been upset with me for days,” you explain, “I suppose I’m unsure what happened between tea and the night of the dance.”
Loki’s eyes drop from the sky in contemplation, a slight hesitation in the breath he takes before speaking, “I have decided I am not content in anger.”
You blink at the rock in your hand, rolling it over. “That is entirely well grounded, however I don’t understand how it is an explanation for the change of heart you seem to have towards me.”
Your eyes stay on your hands as Loki thinks aloud, “I expect it is the influence of you.”
You interrupt his pause before he can continue and look up at him, “You believe I am forcing a desired emotion of settlement from you?”
“Not at all,” Loki corrects quickly, “I do not mean that. What I mean is,” he cuts himself off with a sigh, “I mean I have noticed in each of our disputes I was the instigator. You hadn’t once directly intended to upset me, that I had done it to myself each time.”
You watch him as he talks, his eyes searching the space in front of him for words. “Goddess, you are a unique experience in terms of companionship.”
Your mouth pulls to the side, a small laugh as you drop your eyes to your hands again, “Yes, I suppose The Goddess is quite an interesting friend to hold.”
“You must know that is not the desire of our interactions.” You can hear he has finally turned his head to you, his voice a bit clearer than when he talks to the water.
You brows furrow as you look to the waves, “You are not aiding in my understanding.” You shake your head, “You must understand my confusion, yet you walk around a direct answer as to why your attitude finds me in good company this week.”
“Goddess,” he sighs, “it is simply because you are good company. I do not need to find it, nor do I need to ruin it.” Loki’s head tips to the side, “Goddess, I find that when we are together and I am not preparing to go to war with words, I enjoy every moment in your closeness. I can laugh as I wish, talk as I wish,” you look up as Loki laughs, “Goddess, I can breathe.”
A moment passes before you realize you have been staring at Loki in silence, his face dipped down to yours in eagerness to convince you of his last words. Your breath catches in your throat, “Loki.” His name trails off and falls to the wind as his eyes watch your lips form his name.
“Goddess,” the same warning, that same lifeline of longing in your title fills his tone again. You remember how close you were the last time he cautioned you, how your heart slammed into your chest to try and reach his. It does it now, the same tempo as in the garden. Your lungs beg air to fill them as Loki leans toward you a bit farther, watching as you raise towards him in slow agony.
You swallow and watch his lips, “Loki, I-” your words are everything and nothing, your eyes are fixed to his lips as though you’ve been irrevocably magnetized, mind body soul—
Loki tilts forward further still and that’s when you realize— this is really, truly happening. For the briefest of moments, you look into his eyes and see that he feels it too. He’s right there with you, being pulled, pulled, pulled, closer, closer, closer, as though you and him are a planet and its moon, forever tied together by the order of the universe. Your eyes flutter closed as you wait for the onslaught of sensation.
His lips slot against yours with the same sort of ease and suddenness that an avalanche slides down a mountainside. You feel your fingers tremble, where your hand comes to rest on his heartbeat, then tug him closer, chasing after the warmth of his breath. Loki mirrors the movement, fingers slipping through your hair to rest on the curve of your neck, guiding you up, kissing you deeply enough that you feel his heartbeat fall in sync with yours for a wonderful, blissful moment.
The sudden wave of intimacy startles you into pulling away before you’re ready to, looking up into hooded eyes, the pink dusting the bridge of his nose, the adoration tucked away in every wrinkle of his face. His fingers pull from your hair to rest on your cheek, a content sigh billowing under the curve of his smile while his thumb dances back and forth on your cheekbone.
You swallow and close your eyes, the absence of space between your body and his own apparent in the way your chests move in sync as an attempt to catch your breath. Leaning into Loki’s touch, you open your eyes and memorize the equanimity of the water crashing into the rocks as sure as the worship in his eyes. Loki is the first to speak, though it’s not out loud.
“Goddess,” his thought sings through your head as his forehead reaches yours, nose passing against yours. A loss of vocabulary from a man who uses it as weaponry stitches a smile on your face.
You laugh to yourself, “I believe, now, I understand the desire of our interactions. Thank you for being perspicuous.”
Loki’s head shakes as he grins, “You shall be the cause of my expiration, my Goddess.”
“Hm,” you hum, “I am already the cause of your dawn.”
“You are quite right.” He agrees.