Natasha looked momentarily confused. Unsure of what to make of Loki's bizarre proclamation. She was frowning slightly, but her mouth kicked up at the corner in a bemused smile.

"Oh so you're THE Loki from Scandinavian legend." Her question sounded more like a statement, and her voice was gilded with sarcasm. "Because that makes sense."

Loki continued to stare at her unwaveringly, remaining eerily silent. Putting her in mind of the lull before a storm.

She gave a strained laugh. "How long were you in that bar for?"

"I am not inebriated, Miss Romanoff, if that is what you're insinuating."

Natasha's smile slowly faded as she realised he didn't appear to be joking. On the contrary, he looked deadly serious.

"You're....you're being serious?"

"Yes."

"So wait a minute, let me just get this straight...." Her green eyes narrowed, as she struggled to make sense of it. "....you're claiming to be a Norse God? And you actually, genuinely believe that's what you are?"

Loki's jaw clenched in irritation. "I am a God. Granted I understand how it must be difficult for your race to accept that we exist, but--"

"My race?" She interjected sharply.

"Yes your race, Midgardians. This is Midgard." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Natasha blinked in disbelief. "Midgardians, by that you mean humans, is that it?"

"Correct."

"And you're from.....another planet? Which basically makes you an alien, right?"

"I'm from another realm, yes. I do however, find the term alien to be rather distasteful and offensive. After all, where I come from you are the ones who are considered aliens. Certainly an inferior species." He explained patiently, in an almost bored voice.

"You prefer being referred to as a God?"

"Yes because that is what I am." He dipped from the waist to give her a mocking little bow. "I am Loki, of Asgard."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. A long silence ensued. A dense silence that was heavy and oppressive. The only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of the ocean. When Loki couldn't stand her ominous silence any longer, for once he ignored his pride, and demanded a response from her. That was, after all, the least he deserved after his honest admittance.

"Won't you say something?"

She'd begun pacing back and forth fretfully, her arms folded at her waist, her gaze fixed on the small trail of footprints her bare feet left in the sand.

Another awkward minute dragged by, and still no reply came. Loki was incensed. His patience, rapidly dwindling.

"Say something!" He demanded, sounding more desperate than he would've liked.

"What do you expect me to say?" She snapped, just as equally irritated, if not more so. "You actually believe that you're a deity. That's...crazy. Do you have any idea how delusional you sound?"

"You doubt me, Miss Romanoff?"

"Of course I do. If I believed you then that would make me just as crazy as you!" She shook her head, incredulous.

He forced a humourless laugh, that seemed to get stuck in his throat. "How ironic. I'm the God of lies, and now I'm being honest you don't believe me."

"Okay just stop. Please. All this God talk is utterly ridiculous. Maybe you're some sort of religious nut, but I'm not. And even if I believed in aliens, there's no way I'd buy into your bullshit that you are one."

Loki's dark expression seemed to falter then. His anger gave way to disappointment, and his mournful eyes betrayed a sadness that she found incompressible and unsettling.

Then a thought occurred to her. Perhaps he suffered with a mental illness.

"Loki..." She stood still, and gave what she hoped he'd perceive as a sympathetic smile. "...if that is actually your name--"

"It is!" He said tersely, hackles rising. Her smile of sympathy inflamed him. He mistook it for pity, naturally presuming that she was patronising him.

She sighed heavily. "Okay. Well, have you ever heard of grandiose delusional disorder?"

"Yes I am aware of what that is, and no, I do not suffer from an over-inflated sense of worth, power, identity or knowledge."

"You sure about that?" She raised a sardonic brow, which only served to incense him further.

"Quite sure. And I find your insolence deeply insulting, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated exclamation. "You have a literal God complex. If you're not getting help already, then you really need to. But I'm done with this."

She turned to walk away, but Loki reached out and caught hold of her wrist.

"Let go of me!" She brought up her elbow sharply, intending to hit him, when suddenly a bright golden glow emanated from his very being, shimmering over his body from the top of his ebony hair to the tips of his leather shoes.

Her mouth quite literally fell open at the sight, like a fish out of water, and she froze, her arm poised in mid-strike.

As the ethereal glowing light enveloped his body, his black suit was replaced by elaborate gold and leather armour, and his expensive shoes by buckled leather boots.
The transformation was over within a matter of seconds, but the impact of having witnessed such an anomaly would remain ingrained in her memory forever.

His grasp loosened suddenly, causing her to stumble back slightly in delayed shock.

He smiled at her vindictively, as though he gleaned a certain malicious enjoyment from having shook her to her very foundations.

"Now you see me, Natasha."

Raising a trembling hand to her mouth, she stood, stunned, her thoughts reeling.

"Now you can go." He said dismissively, his voice irritatingly calm. "Run away little spider. Run from the big bad God. The monster who parents tell their children about at night."

With that he turned his back to her abruptly, fearing that the emotions that he'd kept tamped down for so long might come gushing forth like a river that had burst it's banks. Years of rejection, feelings of isolation, being treated with cool indifference, failure, disappointment. Shame.

Natasha couldn't be sure how many minutes passed whilst she stood gaping at his broad, leather-clad back, and he remained immobile, lost in his own shambolic thoughts.

This dramatic revelation had thrown her so off-balance, she doubted she'd ever recover. The world, life as she knew it, had been drastically altered forever. This dark, mysterious traveller from another place, had spun her to the point of knocking her completely off her axis. Now nothing would ever be the same again. She found herself questioning everything she thought she'd ever known.
It was so much to comprehend, too much to take-in, and she really did not know how to even begin dealing with it.

So Natasha did the only thing she could do. The one thing she always did in order to cope with complex issues and emotions.
She didn't deal with it.
She simply filed the information away, then buried it....deep.

"Why are you still here?"

His voice shook her from her thoughts, and she quickly regathered her composure.

"Do you want me to go?" She fired back, answering his question with a question.

His tall frame went visibly rigid. The rock-hard set of his shoulders tensing. "What I want is irrelevant, Miss Romanoff. Now you have learned who I am, what I am, it serves no purpose for you to stay."

"And you don't think that I'd want to know more?" She scoffed, indignantly. "Now I know what you are, I've got even more reason to want to stay."

He half-turned so he could shoot her a petulant look over his shoulder, his one visible eye narrowed. "To satiate your morbid interest?"

"No."

"Do not insult my intelligence. What more would I be to you other than an eccentric curiosity?"

"You're deliberately trying to push me away." She stated flatly. "Why? What is it you're afraid of? That I'll get too close and discover something I don't like?"

Loki snorted rudely, spinning on his heel. As if suddenly too enraged to be still, he began pacing restlessly around in slow, ever-increasing circles.

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Romanoff. I have never given a damn about being liked. Such sentiment is typical of human idiocy."

Natasha watched him pace, her gaze absently following the almost hypnotic sway of his narrow hips. He was indeed most other-worldly. His exotic beauty, his graceful strength, his magnetism, was lethal. She was completely out of her depth, and yet, not afraid.

"That's racist. But hey, I won't take it personally. I'm sure you didn't mean to offend me." She retorted. "But the point is I don't scare easily. And I definitely don't run away from anything."

His face visibly hardened. "Is that so?"

"Yes. And like I said, I want to know more. I think you owe me that at least. I deserve to know more about the man..." She faltered, quickly correcting herself, even though the words sounded so absurd as they left her mouth. ".....the alien, the...God, I had sex with....twice."

That gave him pause. He halted, turning to face her fully. And suddenly she was struck by how imposing, menacing, magisterial, and wildly beautiful he truly was.

"It alarms you to have given yourself to me." He said accusingly, fixing her with an accusatory stare. "And if I were to disclose further information to you then you would undoubtedly regret having done so even further."

"You would think so. But you don't know me."

"I know you well enough. And rest assured Natasha, if you knew me better then you'd think me just as much a monster as the rest of them."

"The rest of who?" She frowned. "You keep referring to yourself as a monster, but there's nothing monstrous about you."

He barked a sharp, bitter laugh. "As I said, you don't know me well enough. In time you shall, but I am not inclined to reveal all of those future horrors to you."

"Do you want me to think badly of you?"

She didn't expect him to answer that. Loki was far too aloof. And even if he did, she didn't expect him to answer honestly. Surely that would make him too vulnerable, exposed. And she got that

So when he growled a reply, it took her completely by surprise....

"No."

She held his stormy gaze, and felt an unspoken recognition pass between them. They held a connection, somehow, and unbelievably it appeared he thought enough of her to care for her good opinion, in spite of all his bravado.

God of Lies.

The knowledge that he cared, caused a restless yearning deep beneath her breast. Unexpectedly, they'd accidentally developed a most unlikely bond, a rapport, that was so intimate. So exciting. So strange. And so wrong.
Aside from their most baser instincts and the overpowering physical attraction, they were linked by feelings of regret, remorse and shame.
Natasha had made her peace with all of the terrible deeds she had done in her young life. Or st least she had thought so. Now she wasn't so sure.

Her gaze flickered away from his grave face, lowering to the ground. "I've done things I'm not proud of too."

"I know." He said gently.

She swallowed. Of course he knew. She wasn't entirely sure how, but she wasn't about to question him on the matter. Not wanting to open a veritable pandora's box.

"The thing is, Loki, we do what we need to in order to survive. I think that's one thing we have in common. Nothing you can say will shock me, or make me think any less of you."

She raised her eyes and he immediately looked away, reluctant to acknowledge the similarities they shared. He'd become guarded again. Haughty even.
Her anger spiked, and she retaliated by wanting to vex him. Loki was proud and stubborn, much like herself, but however Godly he may be, she knew a sure fire way of antagonising him. She'd have to take a shot at wounding his vanity in order to chip away at the wall he'd built around himself.

"Well, I guess I'll have no way of knowing just how unlike other men you really are until I find myself a regular guy." She remarked dryly, relishing the way his head snapped round to glower at her.

She managed to bite back a gratifying smile, and casually pretended to study her fingernails, which was difficult to do now it was growing dark.

"What do you mean by that?" He grated, his gaze darkening.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "This is going nowhere, right?"

"This? Explain to me precisely what 'this' is?"

"Us."

His face creased with undeniable discomfort. "Let us be clear on the matter, Miss Romanoff. There is no us."

For some inexplicable reason his words cleaved through her like a blade, drawing blood. She'd gotten more than she bargained for there, by playing down their fling or whatever it was. His cruel retort hurt more than any physical assault ever had. Now she wanted to hurt him even more in return.

"Just as I thought. So.....I guess this is it then. Too bad I won't see you around. I won't be able to let you know whether you fuck any better than an idiotic human."

"I beg your pardon?"

Her forest green eyes held his changeling ones unwaveringly, feigning an innocence that she'd carefully cultivated since childhood, and had now perfected.

"What? I won't know for sure will I, until I have something to compare it to."

The implication of her words temporarily robbed him of speech. His eyes became emblazoned with fury, his mouth set in a grim line. He radiated pure outrage.

"You dare imply that you intend to....to compare a Prince of Asgard with another man? And a mere mortal at that?" He ground the words out, as if finding them just as distasteful as her crude statement.

"Oh I'm not implying, your highness." She used his title mockingly, riling him even further. "It's a promise. What do you expect me to do, live a life of celibacy after you return to your world? Surely even you're not conceited enough to think I won't find a new lover--"

"By the nines you will not!"  To his annoyance, she didn't so much as flinch at the drastic raising of his voice.

Natasha had scarcely blinked when suddenly he was right in front of her, crowding her body with his. Any other woman would have been frightened, especially given the fact that he had now revealed himself to be a wildly powerful being.

But Natasha Romanoff was unshakable.

"And how do you suppose you're going to stop me?" She challenged, tilting her chin upwards in defiance. "More to the point, why would you even want to?"

"Stop you? I'll kill you first before I allow you to give yourself to another, do you understand?" His voice was now a harsh whisper. The possessiveness he felt towards her was unraveling his mind, overriding all rational thought.

Damnable woman. Why wasn't that enough to shake her? To crumble that stoical composure? How dare she insult him. Provoke him. And not shrink back in fear, instead she had the gall to look at him in a way which implied she wanted to be kissed.

She gazed up into his handsome face, her mouth slightly open. "No actually. I don't understand. Sorry I'm just a slow-witted human. You'll have to explain it to me."

His hand went to her hair, his fingers coiling around the silky, flaming locks. Then he tugged, yanking her head back, exposing her throat and forcing her to hold his intrusive gaze. To his satisfaction, she inhaled in a soft, shuddering gush, and he enjoyed the way her full breasts swelled against the neckline of her dress as she breathed.

"You're mine now, Natasha. And mine alone." He rasped.

Then he bent his head and claimed her full mouth with his, kissing her with a slow, penetrating dominance. He held nothing back, pushing her lips apart and flooding her mouth with his tongue. She tasted exquisite. The way she kissed, languidly but with incredible sensuous focus, drove him wild with desire.

She had not attempted to push him away as he'd expected her to. He broke the kiss with a ragged, hissing breath. "So you truly do not fear the wicked Loki? The monstrous demigod?"

Even in the dark she was visibly flushed, her mouth open but there was no response. Just her panting breath.

Frustrated and painfully aroused, he slammed her to the ground violently. She gave a yelp of protest as she landed flat on her back in the sand, the sudden impact almost winding her. But his barely leashed sexual aggression created a flooding river of heat to flow through her responsive body. And as he came down atop of her, a nervous flutter grew in her belly and caused her breath to quicken. She drew in his luxurious scent, breathing through the layers of clean masculine skin, cinnamon spice and leather. Then beneath all that lay the intrinsic base notes that were simply....him.
It was potent, intoxicating, and impossible to resist. Though she did try.

"No." She gasped, in a feeble attempt to discourage him.

"No?" He didn't sound disgruntled or surprised, but rather amused. His voice was gilded with malicious mirth, as though he found her half-hearted plea entertaining.

"I want to know more about you first, ah--!"

Her words dissolved as Loki took her breasts in a rough, possessive grasp.

"You're in no position to make demands, Miss Romanoff. I intend to have you whether you surrender to me willingly or not."

Natasha sunk her nails into the back of his neck, pulling him down into her kiss, any objections she may or may not have had, liquified in the heat of his passion.

Sighing harshly at the pleasure of her writhing body under him, he kissed her exactly as he intended to fuck her....
Deep, rough, and utterly dominating.

Afterwards he wouldn't remember loosening the falls on his leather trousers, or clawing at the neckline of her dress to expose the soft mounds of her breasts.
He wasn't thinking at all. He was lost to the heat and silken texture of her delicious skin.

"I need to be inside you again." He breathed, mouth open against her throat.

His large hand found it's way beneath her dress, and Natasha was thankful for being lay down. His fiery mouth enveloped each of her nipples in turn, licking, suckling and even gliding his teeth along the sensitive, hardened little points. Meanwhile his fingers had found the slick opening of her sex, and he teased and stroked her clit insistently, causing her legs to tremble in an alarming way.

Her head pushed back into the sand, as the tortuous ache rose to an unbearable height, until the pad of his thumb pressed against the sensitive centre and without warning the tension gave way in an explosive spiral. Her body spasmed, and she cried out for him. Warm lethargy weakened her muscles, and she was too dazed by the aftermath to know how hearing his name leave her lips almost undid him.

Hungrier for her than he'd ever been, Loki forced her trembling legs to spread for him, and held her pinned between the unyielding heat of his body and the soft, silken sand. Grinding the hard length of his cock against the very centre of her, sending rippling waves of delight from her core to every part of her body, she surrendered to the heady, erotic sensations.

Pushing a hand down between their bodies, Natasha's searching fingers reached for his sex. The heat and texture of it fascinated her. Lengthy, hard and thick, it was an instrument of ultimate pleasure, regardless of who he was or where he came from. Only he, Loki of Asgard, thrilled her and fulfilled her, until she could think of nothing else.
Until she couldn't think at all.

She was on her back in the warm sand, the balmy night air caressing the areas of her body that were exposed. Her dress was pushed up around her waist, her panties pulled to one side, and then he shoved inside her forcefully, filling her completely.
The path was slick and easy with her arousal, and he was able to sink into her womanly core, stretching her sheath, with only the slightest pinch of pain.

Encased in hot, slick, satiny flesh, his body became sealed to hers. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath. Inside he felt molten. Hot and liquid but needy. Drinking the breath from her, he swallowed her cries as he held her down and pumped fierce, growling like a beast. Radiant pleasure cascaded through her as he bit her shoulders, and throat, and breasts, leaving bruises on her creamy skin no doubt. Marking her territorially as his.

She was his now. She had to be his. His and no other's. 

"You like this?" He demanded hoarsely. "Do you like being fucked by a God, Natasha? A Frost Giant?"

Natasha moaned instead of being repulsed. Arched into his grip when he expected her to try and push him away.

"M-making love..." She panted, her voice broken due to his relentless thrusting. "....and with y-you, Loki....Just as you are...no titles....and it's enough."

Loki was not prepared for the overwhelming rush of emotion he felt at her acknowledgment. His brittle heart swelled within his chest.

"Say my name." He commanded. He pleaded, desperate to hear it tumbling from her lips once more. "Say that you are mine!"

"Loki." She keened, her hands blindly fisting into his hair. "Oh God, I'm...I'm yours!"

"Natasha....you feel so good. I'm never letting you go....You beautiful little thing."

"Natalia." She whimpered, breathlessly.

"W-what?"

"It's Natalia." She managed more coherently, with great effort. "My real name....is Natalia."

He clasped her neck and tilted it back for a hard kiss, turning her muscles meltingly soft. "Natalia."

Her heart palpitated unsteadily beneath her breastbone, filling with warmth at hearing him speak her name. Her true name.

But he was beyond words and beyond conscious thought now. He rode her with unbridled restraint. Rode the enormous wave of his turbulent emotions, his pleasure, his pain. They ground together, the sense of rightness almost unbearable. Her curves seemed tailor-made to his muscles.

This was where he belonged, deep inside her, where she could surround him and caress him.

This was where she belonged, wrapped in his arms, his body invading hers, hips pounding against her own in synchronised rhythm.

He filled her emptiness and she welcomed him. Consumed him in her scorching wet, female heat. Natasha's chest tightened and she sobbed against his neck, her tears wetting the dark waves of his hair. Their connection was so profound, it was as though with each thrust her emotions were forced to the surface, laid bare and exposed.

They were both being swept along by the ache, the longing, the burn of frustration, the sweet madness of uninhibited desire. Natasha stared intently into his eyes, knowing intuitively that they would reflect back what she was feeling. Loki resisted at first, but she took his face in her hand, cupping his chin and holding it in place.
It was enough to see what was in his eyes.
Desperate need. For her.
She had never seen the likes of anything so intensely passionate before, but she had felt it...Her own yearning for him, and it set her on fire.

Sobbing his name, she arched into him, and her body and soul surrendered everything.
Wrapping her legs around his furiously hammering hips, she also locked her arms around his neck and held him to her tightly, as the world fell down around her, exploding in a luxurious, shattering burst.
Natasha seized and gripped him almost painfully as her release hit.
Loki's mouth covered her scream, as he slammed into her sharply, driving deep, and came in a violent frenzy.
Low animalistic growls rumbled from his chest as his seed shot deep inside her core.
The glorious shudders lasted seemingly forever, rippling pleasure echoing through them both.

For long, blissful minutes he remained atop her, his head beside hers, her inner thighs cradling his hips.

"Perhaps this is how it should be." He muttered, tenderly nuzzling his nose against her neck. "You and I.....Us."

Natasha closed her eyes to cope with the enormity of what she felt. Of what her traitorous heart was whispering to her. Taunting her with childish ideals of a love that could never be. A love she would never possess. Love was not for the likes of her. No matter how much she found herself secretly longing for it.

"No." She replied softly, holding him tighter to her, wanting to absorb his very essence and never let go. "I wish it could be that simple."

"Yes." Loki agreed bleakly. "So do I."