The heat was stifling, the temperature and humidity reaching unbearable proportions as the day wore on. But in spite of his discomfort, Loki would not let the object of his resentment out of his line of sight.

Thirty minutes into his vigil, he loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons of his shirt. By the time an hour had passed he was forced to remove his suit jacket, and then some forty minutes later he reluctantly had to resort to rolling up his shirt sleeves.
He disliked having to do so. In his opinion, one ought to always be properly dressed.

Fortunately he did not have to do anything so drastic and unbecoming as shed  his shirt altogether and go bare chested like the majority of the other men, because finally -- and thankfully -- the young Agent Romanoff rose from where she'd been casually reclining next to her unlikely companion, and headed off back down the beach.

"About time." He muttered to himself, reluctantly leaving the shade afforded by one of the large sun parasols that hadn't already been commandeered. But before he did so, he quickly cloaked himself using his magic. He wasn't taking any chances of her detecting him following.

He had toyed with the idea of making himself invisible earlier and sneaking up on her and the man she had spent so much time unashamedly flirting with. Watching the usually poker-faced young woman laughing so heartily as the pair shared some private joke, had fascinated Loki. The way she inclined her head towards his, their bodies positioned at intimately close quarters suggested a familiarity of acquaintance and implied they were making more than just polite conversation.
She had brazenly massaged oil into his hairy shoulders, which both appalled and intrigued Loki in equal measures.

Surely to goodness the flirtation couldn't be genuine.
He wasn't naive enough to believe that it was.
But she certainly played the part well.

In the end the only thing that stopped Loki from casting his invisibility spell and eavesdropping, was the sand. Although the beach was crowded and Agent Romanoff otherwise engaged, he wasn't willing to risk leaving footprints for fear of them being noticed.
But now he no longer gave a damn. He was hot, tired and growing increasingly cranky. To hell with the consequences of any of these ridiculous mortals noticing shoe imprints being left by an invisible entity. They were al so dull-witted they probably wouldn't even be able to perceive such an anomaly.

He stalked her back along the shore until the beach gave way to sandy pathways and a built-up area. They made their way through the  grounds, passed the opulent beach hotel to what was signposted as the presidential section of the resort.
She came to a stop in front of the small bungalows that lined the Northern part of the beach, and reached into the top of her bathing suit.

Loki watched with amused interest as she fumbled for a second before pulling out a keycard. The thought of her keeping such a thing tucked inside her cleavage almost made him want to laugh.

However, any thoughts of laughter were immediately quashed when she successfully unlocked the door and was suddenly inside before he'd been able to dash in after her.

He uttered a string of expletives, irrational frustration consuming him.
At that moment he heard approaching footsteps, and turned to see a young man dressed in red shorts and a gleaming white T.shirt come around the corner.
Loki's keen eyes fell on the name badge pinned to his chest, confirming that he was a member of staff at the resort.

He wasted no time in letting the invisibility spell melt away, and called out to the hapless young man, displaying his trademark aristocrat authority.

"You there, boy! The lady that occupies this bungalow, what is her name?".

The cabana boy started, whirling around to face the speaker who's tone was so peremptory he felt he daren't refuse his somewhat unreasonable demand. "I...I'm sorry sir, I don't know."

"Then you are obliged to assist me by finding out." Loki barked impatiently. "You are in service here are you not?"

The young man blinked, his eyes downcast due to his inability to comply. "We're not allowed to disclose that sort of information, sir. It would go against hotel regulations. The privacy of our guests--"

He fell silent as Loki drew menacingly towards him, domineering him with his height. Dressed from head-to toe in sobering black, Loki cut an imposing figure, and he was well aware of the way in which the youngster shrank back from him, visibly intimidated.

"Your wage here is no doubt a meagre pittance." Loki ventured, tilting his head in an enquiring way. In his experience, very few Asgardians were immune to bribery and humans were no different. With a subtle flick of the wrist, he conjured a wad of Midgardian banknotes -- American dollars of course, as so far that had been the only currency he had handled -- and he forcibly pressed them into the cabana boys' clammy hand.

"Sir! I cannot break company rules....this is unethical. I could...I could lose my job." He protested half-heartedly, though he wasn't able to resist looking down at the cash longingly.

"Defy me and you risk losing much more than that." Loki warned, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Forget the name. Well hers at any rate. Tell me this, have you seen her in the company of an older man? Overweight, balding. Ruddy countenance. An oaf by his carriage."

The cabana boy looked taken-aback by Loki's unflattering description of the guest he'd just described, but the spark of recognition was evident on his bewildered face. "Y-yes I've seen the gentleman."

"Who is he? Did they arrive together?"

"No, the lady arrived just yesterday. They dined together in the hotel restaurant last night. He's been here for some time, on business I think. But I'm afraid I don't know who he is."

"Find out and I will make it worth your while." Loki said persuasively, with a hint of danger in his voice. There was an art to being covertly threatening, and Loki had mastered it. Indeed it was a natural talent he possessed.

Reluctantly, the young man pocketed the money and nodded grimly. "I'll see what I can do for you, sir. What room can I find you in?"

"That isn't necessary, boy. Rest assured, I will find you." He replied ominously.

He then gave a dismissive gesture with his elegant hand, waving the boy away.

Recognising that he was being 'dismissed' he left, confused, darting apprehensive looks back at Loki over his shoulder as he stumbled off down the pathway.

Now alone again and filled with renewed determination, Loki cloaked himself once more and made his way over to the bungalow door. He focused all his energy and concentrated hard on the lock, using his power to manipulate the locking device.
A flicker of green light emanated from his invisible hand, and the mechanism gave a satisfying click. Grasping the handle carefully, he listened for a moment, then cautiously opened the door.

There was no sign of Agent Romanoff in the small room, but the sound of running water hitting tiled walls filtered in from what appeared to be the bathroom, which lay beyond another closed door.
He instantly set about searching, his mind fixed on finding confirmation that she was who he felt sure she was. The bedside drawers were empty, but leaning down on his haunches he felt around beneath the bed until he triumphantly grasped a leather purse.

Females could be so predictable at times. It was almost too easy.

Hastily he opened it, finding only her wallet contained within. There was no top secret documents, nothing that shed any light on who the mystery man was she'd been spending so much time with. But he refused to believe it was a romantic attachment.

Opening the wallet, his fingers pulled at the various Identity cards that were stuffed into the small compartment. Sliding each one out, his eyes darted back and forth over the photographs on each one, and the names...

Natalia Romanova

Natasha Romanoff

Natalie Rushman

The hair was notably different in each image, just as the name differed.
But the face was the same.
A younger, ever so more slightly fresher-faced, Agent Romanoff.

He felt a mixture of malicious satisfaction and consternation. Having confirmed his suspicions, he was now feeling decidedly disconcerted.
What an ironic twist of fate it was. He had wound up in a place -- a time -- that had led back to her. The insolent mortal who had manipulated him, beating him at his own game.
A worthy adversary she was indeed, but he was master of this game.
If the fates had somehow conspired against him to bring him here, then he would use it to his advantage.

Miss Romanoff would pay the price for her insolence, deceit and trickery.

Nobody made a fool of Loki of Asgard.

She would not get the better of him again, and using whatever subterfuge he must, he swore an oath on everything he held sacred -- which granted, wasn't much, Loki treasured only his magic, his books, and his mother -- but he swore he would be avenged.

Suddenly the sound of the shower being turned off, pulled his attention back to the present. He stuffed the I.D cards back exactly in the order they had been, and replaced the purse where he'd found it.

He was still crouching down beside the bed as the bathroom door opened, and the glistening figure of Miss Romanoff entered the room shrouded in a waft of scented steam.

He remained completely still, though he suddenly doubted his ability to move even if he'd wished to. His traitorous gaze was drawn to her petite body and the obscenely small white towel that clung to it, mercilessly accentuating her curvaceous figure.

She moved about the small room purposefully, rubbing at her wet hair with another towel, whilst intermittently pulling clothes from a closet and tossing them onto the bed carelessly.

There was a graceful strength about her, though he was loathed to acknowledge it. And as his eyes overruled his head, they lingered appreciatively on her creamy skin, the tiny droplets of water glistening in the setting sunlight which fought it's way through the gaps in the tilted blinds which hung at the window.

To his dismay, he was aghast as he felt something stir unsettlingly inside him. His pulse quickened, his heart thudding so loudly in his chest, he fleetingly wondered if she'd be able to detect it.

In spite of himself, and to his shame and disgust, it became unforgivingly apparent that his enemy was somehow reawakening his previously dormant libido.

No, he wouldn't allow it. Anger was a suitable antidote for desire. And he had an abundance of anger, just barely suppressed beneath the surface of his calm exterior.

He wanted Miss Romanoff to suffer at his hands.

He thought of all the ways he could torture her.

Her tears as he conjured images in her head, of everything and anything she'd ever loved dying.

Her suffering as he evoked painful memories from her questionable past.

Her screaming for him to stop as he pinned her against the wall with unrestrained aggression.

His thoughts were beginning to take a much darker turn, flowing into his mind like a dark, depraved, carnal river.

Her strapped to the bed, begging him to release her, as he inflicted unspeakable acts of depravity on her.

Her ragged sobs as he gripped her perfumed throat suffocatingly while he forced himself into her.

His jaw tightened as a fierce heat began to course through his veins, making each nerve ending prickle with unnerving excitement.
Hell. It had clearly been too long since he had a woman. Only his abstinence from sex could account for such sordid fantasies involving a mortal. A mortal who he held a grudge against too.

She stood before him, oblivious to his intrusive presence, and an involuntary sharp gust of breath left his mouth as she loosened the towel, allowing it to fall to the floor around her dainty feet, leaving her starkly naked.

A gentleman would've had the good grace to not look.
To avert his gaze.
And maybe just take a fleeting peep.
But Loki wasn't one for peeping. He either took a long, hard look or didn't look at all.
So look he did.
No longer giving a damn for being a gentleman.
After all, a gentleman was just a patient wolf.

He stayed exactly where he was. Anchored to the spot by undeniable, maddening lust.
His position was gloriously convenient, affording him the most spectacular, intimate view, and his eyes took their fill. Roving over the swell of her breasts and soft peaks of her rosy nipples. Her perfectly formed, shapely rear. The seam of her toned thighs, and the enticing little patch of dark curls that crowned her sex.

The sight drove him almost insane with desire.

She was dazzling.

He watched, transfixed, as she slipped into her delicate, black lace underwear. Then sat on the edge of the bed, gliding a pair of black stockings onto her smooth, athletic legs.

He felt the rising heat in his body surging downwards, and his trousers grew uncomfortably tight around his groin due to his state of arousal. With such temptation within his grasp, his fingers itched to reach out and touch her. To run his hands over the pillowy mounds of her breasts.

By the Nines, what was wrong with him?

Pleasures of the flesh, whilst serving as an excellent outlet for stress, only ever created too much of a distraction, which is why Loki had refrained from engaging in carnal activity for the longest time.
His sole purpose in life was the acquisition of power.

But Agent Romanoff was infuriatingly attractive.

She was lithe, strong and yet undeniably endowed with soft, feminine curves in that effortlessly seductive way that Loki was so fond of.
And although she was, unfortunately, a mere mortal, her fair face and form rivalled those of any Goddess he'd ever beheld.

He clenched his teeth and attempted to regain his composure and scattered thoughts.
Surely any hot-blooded man could not be faulted for appreciating the sight of a naked female's....assets?
Yet he still silently reprimanded himself for permitting his primal instincts to impair his sense and reason.

She had to pay for what she had done.

He would make her pay, one way or another.

Now, he was not one to force himself on a woman without her consent.
He was many things, but not a beast to such an extent.
He never took a female against her will.

But he was tormented with thoughts of making her his. His quest for revenge fuelled the disturbing attraction he found himself wrestling with.
He wanted to take possession of her delicious little body, and bend it to his will.

He wanted to bring the infamous Black Widow to her knees.

Oh yes, he would enjoy taking her.

And breaking her.

He was confident he could do so.

Having slipped into a simple, but elegant black dress, Miss Romamoff proceeded to dry her auburn hair with the noisiest hand-held contraption Loki had ever had the misfortune to be subjected to, which created such an assault on his senses it doused his ardour quite effectively.

Then she sat at the vanity table, applying makeup with expert precision.
Her hair was shaped into the style of a chic, slanted bob, cut off sharply just below her jawline. He looked-on with silent fascination as she sculpted her face into a sultry, alluring mask. Her eyes were accentuated by the smoky hues of her eyeshadow, and slick black flicks of liner gave her an almost feline look.
She had succeeded in transforming herself from natural beauty, to seductive temptress.

She was certainly going to a lot of effort. And it put Loki in mind of war paint.
She was readying for battle.
Her target, the older businessman who was yet to be identified.
Her battle strategy, seduction.

Against his better judgement, Loki's curiosity had been piqued. Whilst he previously hadn't cared what agency she was working for, or what espionage she was currently embroiled in, now he was convinced she was going to use her feminine wiles on her intended victim.
How far would she be willing to go to achieve her goal?
Would she actually debase herself by bedding such a greasy, undeserving oaf?

His minds' eye was assaulted with the unwanted image of the man's fat hands groping and pawing at her. Rutting like a fat boar. His large carcass labouring over her exquisite body, as she dutifully lured him into a trap.
Into her web.

The thought of such a sight, sickened him somewhat. An unexpected possessiveness flooded Loki's body, and a word flitted through his mind as he watched her....

Mine.