She hadn't deliberately intended to seek out his room on the ship, she really hadn't.

In actual fact, she had inadvertently stumbled upon it whilst wandering the maze of corridors, bottle in hand, taking long swigs of the liquid that burned the back of her throat but took the edge off, well....everything.

Loki, the infamous god of mischief, had been given a room like everyone else on board, though he'd somehow managed to snaffle himself a comfortably large one.

Why wasn't she surprised? He was a conniving diva.

Valkyrie could tell that it was his room immediately, because there was a book on the bed.
Where he'd managed to conjure that from was anybody's guess, and only Loki would be concerned with reading whilst everyone else was still struggling trying to process their grief, to settle into their new environment, to come to terms with the fact that Asgard as a realm, was no more.

As well as that, admittedly there was another clue.

It was that certain, divine scent in the air.
She recognised it as his. To her immense irritation, the annoyingly sexy little fucker smelt so good, and she hated herself for having even noticed.
His scent, and his sexiness
But she couldn't help it, it wasn't her fault she had a perfectly keen sense of smell, and wasn't blind.

The door was ajar, and her inquisitiveness compelled her to venture inside.
Why? To check that he hadn't smuggled any potentially deadly or life-endangering weapons aboard, which he could easily have done amidst all the confusion.

She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.
Granted she could, and had, thrown him against a wall earlier with relative ease, which was strangely satisfying, but that was beside the point.
He was deceptively heavier and stronger than he looked, and more importantly, he had returned to the palace alone.
His purpose, to evoke Surter with the eternal flame, but Valkyrie couldn't quite shake off the nagging suspicion that this would have provided Loki with the perfect opportunity to pilfer any of the other relics in Odin's weapon vault, especially the Tessaract.
Thor had spoken of his adopted brother's unhealthily fascination with the thing, and he'd even joked about how he hoped Loki wouldn't notice it whilst completing his assigned task, and be tempted.

If Loki had anything concealed, she would find it.
She was sure of that.
Although, she had been searching for some time now, and hadn't been able to find anything incriminating whatsoever.

The relentless warrior was so engrossed in her search, she hadn't realised just how long she'd been in there, and the alcohol that swirled in her brain must've been slowing her down, impairing her senses and judgement, as she hadn't accounted for him returning, catching her in the act.

He entered the room like a wild force of nature, and only the sound of the heavy door slamming shut behind him, alerted her to his presence.

Shit.
She cursed inwardly, but kept her expression impassive. More than able and eager to stand her ground.
She certainly wasn't about to apologise to him for being there, her reasons were justifiable.

"Well, this is an unexpected pleasure." Loki said, not even attempting to hide his surprise at finding a Valkyrie in his room.
"Are you lost? It's only to be expected I suppose, given that you haven't had much time to familiarise yourself with the layout yet."

He was mocking her the bastard. She could see the mischief twinkling in his eyes, and if she didn't know better, she could've sworn there was a certain predatory glint visible too, as his nimble fingers danced across the security keypad, punching in a code which locked the door.

"Why have you done that?" She demanded, her small nostrils flaring with indignation.

"Don't be alarmed, it's just so we're not disturbed. You clearly have something you wish to discuss with me, am I correct? Otherwise you wouldn't be here, invading my privacy."

"There's nothing I want to discuss with you, open the door!"

Loki heaved an exasperated sigh, and rolled his eyes at her rudely. "You've nothing to fear, I have no ill intentions."

She folded her arms and stared at him. He stared back at her.
They probably could have done this all night, neither of them willing to yield, but eventually he cracked. His patience thinning.

"Look, I know you don't know me but I'm not as sinister as they make out. However, I refuse to open that door until you tell me what the hell you are doing in my room."

Her gaze dropped, taking in his lean frame clad in snug-fitting leather, before scaling back up to his ludicrously handsome face with it's angular features. All high-arched cheekbones, dignified nose and baby-blue eyes. His crowning glory was his silky, mane of raven hair, combed back into perfection.

He looked like some sort of dark angel cast out of heaven. He looked every bit the devil he was.

"Oh, I already know all about you....lackey." She said deliberately, relishing the way his jaw perceptibly tightened. "Your brother filled me in. We had quite an interesting chat."

"As I've already told you, the name's Loki. Don't make me repeat myself again." He warned, his tone steely.

She took a half-step towards him, tilting her chin upwards in defiance. "Actually I think I got it right the first time. Lackey suits you, because that's exactly what you were for the Grand Master."

"It was a tactical necessity in order to gain favour with him and-"

"But what about Thanos?" She interrupted sharply, and his porcelain complexion seemed to pale further at her words. "Like I said, Thor told me everything."

"Is that so?"

"Yes! He told me all about your dodgy exploits on Midgard and your shady dealings with the Tessaract. But you're not solely responsible I suppose, because you were another of Thanos' puppets, right? His lackey."

Loki's eyes flashed with fury, and she watched his face gradually darken until his expression grew so black she suspected he would've liked nothing more than to seize her by the throat and choke every last breath of life out of her lungs with his bare hands.
Yet he didn't move a muscle. His anger, she realised, was the still kind. Completely motionless and reserved in a dangerous way.
She recognised something in the dark prince that made her extremely uncomfortable.

To the untrained eye, he was hail-fellow-well-met.
All charm and eloquence. He was talented at lying, she didn't doubt that he could most likely talk his way out of a room with no doors, thanks to the silver tongue he had been blessed with.
But beneath that cool, calm exterior there was a distinctive hint of the untamed about him, as if his dangerous, wild aura was just barely suppressed below the surface.
He was an anomaly, not just a mischievous, playful trickster.
On the contrary, Loki Laufeyson wasn't to be underestimated. A master of sorcery, and skilled fighter, he was potentially a deadly force to be reckoned with.
He exuded an air of dominance, confidence, intelligence and arrogance.

She had learned of his jaded history, the way in which he made a habit of wreaking havoc wherever he went.
The ancient prophecies had long ago foretold of his coming, and the Norns had woven it into his destiny to be a breaker of worlds. A mischief maker. The harbinger of destruction. The causer of Ragnarok....Asgard's undoing.
Loki had the potential to unleash mayhem, and she was no fool.
In spite of all her strength and agility, she sensed what he could do to her if he so wished. He could destroy her, but for now he remained completely composed and in control.

"And what about you, Valkyrie?" And just like that, his eyes suddenly seemed to clear, all visible signs of aggression dispersing as he shook off his anger. "What have you had to resort to, in order to survive?"

"This is not about me, your highness..." She spoke his title in a patronising tone, unable to resist riling him.
For some reason there was a devious part of her that enjoyed taunting him, and even though it went against her better judgement, she was curious to see how far she could push him. "....you're the one who can't be trusted."

"Oh I wouldn't believe everything you hear." He fired an unexpected disarming, dazzling smile across the room at her, straight into her large hazel eyes.

She blinked through the dazzle and shot back the kind of look Medusa herself would've been proud of. A lesser man would've been reduced to a pillar of salt, but Loki was made of much stronger stuff. He stubbornly refused to crumble beneath her withering gaze.
"I want to know what you might've stolen whilst you were alone in the weapon vault."

"Ah, so you're here merely to search my room for Odin's hidden treasures? Well I'm afraid the only one you'll find.....is myself."

Smooth bastard, she thought sourly.

"My brother did inform you of my parentage, I presume?" He continued, a twisted smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe the snigger off his irritatingly beautiful face. "And I can assure you I don't have the Tessaract tucked inside my cape. Feel free to search me if you insist."

"What does your parentage have to do with anything?" She responded gruffly, opting to ignore his invitation. "So what if you're the bastard son of a frost giant? A half-breed? Who cares? We've all got our dramas to deal with. Get over yourself already and stop playing the little-boy-lost card. You can't keep using your daddy issues as an excuse for your bad fucking behaviour!"

For a fleeting moment she thought she may have gone too far, overstepped the mark, but he simply pursed his lips and stared at her with uninhibited amusement.
"I beg your pardon? You forget your place, Valkyrie. And how dare you lecture me about bad behaviour when you seek to find solace in a liquor bottle at every available opportunity. Do you honestly believe if you drink yourself into a stupor you'll forget all the horrors? All the regrets? All the ghosts from your past who haunt you still?"

Valkyrie felt her right eye begin to twitch, and if she were a complete suicidal maniac prone to fits of violence, then this would be the moment she flipped out, lost her shit, and ruined the overall sense of good humour and air of positivity that everyone aboard the ship was now feeling.

"You know nothing about me, so keep your observations and opinions to yourself."

"I know enough. Like for example, how you can't even bring yourself to tell me your name because you're too afraid to acknowledge your own past." He retorted coldly.

One hand went to her hip, the other instinctively balling into a fist.
"My name is scrapper 142." She spat.

"I think not." His lip curled into a harsh, cruel line. "Brunnhilde is your name, and a beautiful one at that. So why not use it?"

She faltered for a brief moment, hearing her name on his lips was a disturbingly sinful experience, and the air whooshed right out of her lungs, as if someone had placed heavy weights upon her chest, crushing her.

"How do you know my name?" She barked angrily, voice dripping venom. He had that shit-eating grin firmly in place now, and she fantasised about knocking his perfect front teeth down his throat. "You will regret meddling with my mind, trickster!"

"Oh, I highly doubt it." He crooned, drawing nearer. Seemingly oblivious to the violence in her fierce eyes as she impaled him with her glare. "Do your worst!"

Her throat constricted with a mixture of panic and anger. She wanted to crush him, grind him to dust beneath the heel of her boot, but as he moved slowly towards her, taking his sweet time about it in order to prolong the anticipation, it became increasingly apparent that this is what he wanted.
He wanted her to spar with him, to fight him.
He was throwing down a gauntlet, silently challenging her, and if he expected her to engage in his bizarre game then he was sorely mistaken.

"You're a twisted bastard!"

"Possibly."
He continued to prowl towards her like a languid but potentially lethal big cat, dark and all long, leaned, muscled limbs. His narrow hips swayed hypnotically with his purposeful movements and she was loathed to admit that she found his graceful strength and exotic beauty infuriatingly distracting.

His eyes fused with hers, his gaze heavy and intrusive, making something stir inside of her, poking and prodding at a place where she never allowed anything to go.

Fucking trickster.
Who the hell did he think he was?

Something snapped in the back of Valkyrie's mind. A rogue neurone kicked in and suddenly she found herself lunging for him.
The best form of defence, is attack.

Loki was prepared for her, having already anticipated her actions, so he managed to fend her off, blocking and deflecting her attack.
But she relentlessly rained blows down upon him, until at last she hit him squarely on the jaw, resulting in a bruise no doubt.

He winced, his head snapping back with the force of the hit.
"You're so fiery, and savage Brunnhilde..." He growled through clenched teeth, as though thinking aloud to himself. "...I like that."

He responded next by bringing his elbow up and across, catching her in the side. Valkyrie staggered back, but recovered quickly, delivering a hard kick to his shin.

They grappled for a while, teeth bared, snarling at each other like a pair of rabid, feral animals.
Yet he was holding back.
Valkyrie was well trained in combat and experience had taught her to recognise when someone was pulling their punches.

But why was he doing that?

If she allowed herself to believe her gut instincts, then she already knew. In fact she was only too well aware, as she arched into his solid, unyielding body, and they became locked in a vicious, sensual tug-of-war.
She could feel the muscles in his thighs pressing against her own through his leather trousers, and her stomach began to do an alarmingly unfamiliar yo-yo of lust.

No.
She wouldn't be taken in by his false charm, his deadly charisma, overt sensuality, or any of his other physical attributes.
So what if he was aesthetically pleasing?
She would not be exploring this disturbing, unnerving attraction further.

She hurled herself at him with all her might, and their bodies collided, tumbling onto the steel floor in a tangled mess of flailing limbs. Fleetingly she found herself wondering what hidden gems lay beneath that inconvenient barrier of leather armour, and a light sweat broke out on her forehead at the very thought of it.

"Please tell me you're going to chain me up again." He teased, his voice ragged due to his hampered breathing.

"Fucking pervert!" She hissed back, having easily bested him once again. She was beginning to suspect that he rather liked being tied up, having so complacently obliged when she had bound him earlier that day. "Are you getting off on this?"

She had him where she wanted him, as she sat straddling his slim waist, and by surrendering so hastily, he had revealed his true intentions. He was exactly where he wanted to be too.

He tried and failed to bite back a laugh, and Valkyrie felt it rumble through his chest as he stared up at her with those beguiling eyes which seem to hold all the mysteries of the universe within them. They were intelligent, mournful, the eyes of a deep-thinker, and something about the look in them drove her crazy.
"Me? You seem to like having me at your mercy." He pointed out, feigning innocence. "I'm merely indulging you."

"You're too cocky for your own good, lackey." Bringing her hand up, she clasped a hand to his slender throat. Applying just enough pressure to his windpipe to make him squirm beneath her. "What makes you think I'd have any interest in you?"

"I wouldn't dare be so presumptuous my lady." He purred. " I just speak as I find... My heightened senses enable me to feel the anger you radiate, and my own personal experience has taught me that you need a release for all that tension."

She forced a mirthless laugh, and shook her head pityingly. "Yeah, beating your sorry-ass to a pulp sounds rather appealing right about now. That would be an excellent way for me to release some tension!"

"Ah, my apologies. I forgot....Valkyrie's have no interest in carnal pursuits." He paused for added affect, as if choosing his next words carefully. "That is, with men anyway."

"What are you implying, sly one? Spit it out! Speak plainly!" Valkyrie narrowed her beautiful almond eyes in suspicion, and immediately regretted being drawn in by him.
He was as slippery as a snake, as cunning as a fox, as depraved as a demon, but twice as pretty. and she was quietly furious with herself for having engaged this long in conversation with him already.

Her head ached, upgrading from thumping to splitting. All in all it had been one 'Hela' of a day, and now she longed to retire to her own makeshift quarters and settle down with a bottle of potent Asgardian ale.

Although, the wicked Loki was proving to be just as potent, and she didn't like it one bit. It completely unnerved her.

"I'm suggesting, not implying..." He corrected, quirking an elegantly pointed eyebrow at her. "...that you would probably benefit more from a good...hard....fuck. There, is that plain enough for you?"

The breath hitched in her throat and her mouth went dry.
She was stunned, temporarily at a loss for words, which was so unlike her.
She could hardly swallow, her brain refused to function due to the impact of his torrid words as they flushed through her body like a balmy tidal wave of desire. Her own latent hunger for this wretched prince now peaking in subtle rushes.

"But, perhaps your preferences in a bed partner, aren't of the male variety." Loki was saying now, his eyes darting back and forth across her face. Scrutinising, searching for some indication that he may be right.

She leaned down, bringing their faces closer until they were almost touching. All the while she was desperately trying to ignore the way he stared at her with a concentrated focus that might be described as hunger.
She knew this because she hungered for him too.
In truth she was ravenous.
Starving.

"My sexuality has nothing to do with you, lackey. Pleasures of the flesh are forbidden, but even if I hadn't taken my vow of chastity in order to become a Valkyrie, I wouldn't be tempted by the likes of you."

Loki's face tightened now from a look of tolerance to violence. "Oh, I suppose my brother is more to your liking is he?" The irrational, deep-rooted jealousy seemed to seep from his every pore, and the very cracks of his bones. His eyes hardened, taking on a cold, glacial quality. "How predictable. Even the most beautiful shield maiden, the lady Sif, had a weakness for the mighty Thor....but I expected more from you, Brunnhilde. I'd even go so far as to say I'd wager that his bulky, lumbering carcass labouring away over you would not satisfy your needs."

As if to emphasise his point, Loki brought his hips up to meet her, and the simple action made her pulse quicken against her wishes. Every nerve in her body stood on end, as a cluster of shivers wriggled their way down her spine.

Damn him.

She fought to swallow the thickness that was clogging up her throat, but succeeded in keeping her expression stoic. As if her features had been carved from granite.
That was her most basic method of survival. Slipping on a mask of indifference came naturally to her after having worn it for so long, as if it were a second skin.
It was all part of her armour.

"You're so damn sure of yourself, aren't you?" She managed, breezily. Hoping he wouldn't see through her attempt at 'couldn't-care-less'

"That I am."

"And why is that? Go on, do share. I'm in need of some entertainment, so tell me why you're so convinced that you could satisfy me?"

"Because, my dear angry Valkyrie, unlike my brother I'd be willing to let you use and abuse me however you see fit." His voice slowed and deepened into a sensual drawl. "Am I right in saying that you would very much like to be in control? To dominate me? To take possession of my body and bend it to your will?"
The warmth of his breath ghosted over her cheek. His unveiled lust speared low and hard, heating and burning her insides as she felt the steady pulse of arousal pool in her belly.

What was he doing to her?
She couldn't think clearly due to the alcohol and desire-fuelled haze that fogged up her mind. She must've been too long without a man. And this wasn't just any man.
This was a wild and dangerous demi-god, one who was tempting her into the dark unknown. A world filled with erotic promise and shaking limbs. She felt as if she had been clubbed over the head by maddening, raw lust.

She'd remained silent for a heartbeat too long, and now he was grinning salaciously at her. "I'll take that as a yes then."

Valkyrie wanted to resist, she truly did. But the need she felt to be a woman first and not a brave warrior, overruled all rational thought. The sense of urgency to explore this man emotionally and physically pushed her almost to the edge of insanity.
Overcome with the need to satiate her curiosity, she crushed her lips against his, devouring his devilish mouth, grabbing handfuls of his dark, luscious hair.
He kissed her back cautiously at first, gently, carefully, but it wasn't gentleness she wanted, not now, not after all this time. Not from him.

Loki's strong hands held her hips in a tightening grip like he'd never let go, as her tongue forced its way passed his lips with passionate enthusiasm.
Her eyes flickered shut and she was gone, completely losing her senses to him as his kisses grew more demanding, more carnal.
His own velvety tongue invaded her small mouth like a conquering army, battling her own for dominance.

He was sinfully delicious, and she moaned into his mouth, shifting her weight in order to make the most of his sinewy body.
She could feel the distinctive bulge, the hard and steady pulse of the steely, masculine proof of his arousal, pressing into her like a hardening column between her legs.

Holy shit.
She'd never despised the entire convention of having to wear clothes as much as she did right now.
She rocked against him, revelling in the sweet friction, but still wanting more. Like a slave to the master of her desires, she wanted much much more.

He groaned softly, low in his throat, and his arms circled her, gathering her against him as they rolled over on the hard, cold floor, entwined together, still kissing hard and deeply.
The confines of Loki's designated room fell out of focus, forgotten. Similarly the nine worlds, and all who dwelled upon them, ceased to exist.
All that mattered now was herself and Loki, he had become the only solid thing in her speeded-up, swirling reality.
And his wonderful mouth, his lips, his tongue....they were perfect.
They aroused, they teased, they tantalised and took.
He could have it all, and that terrified her.
Knowing that she wanted to do things to him that would make her mother ashamed, terrified her in the most thrilling way.

A bolt of exhilarated fear shot through her, and suddenly she could understand why people often described kissing as melting, because every square inch of her trembling body dissolved into his.
Her fingers knotted into his cape, pulling him even closer. Her veins throbbed and her heart thudded and fluttered in her chest.
Valkyrie had never wanted anyone like this before.
Ever.

The weight of his body on top of hers was extraordinary. She could feel him -all of him - pressed against her, and she inhaled the scent that were the base notes of him. The musky smell of leather, and something more intrinsic like dew, as if he actually bathed in the fresh morning dew. It was the most delicious smell Valkyrie could ever imagine, and now all she wanted was to breathe him, lick him, eat him, drink him.
His lips tasted like honeyed mint. His face had the slightest bit of stubble, invisible to the naked eye, and it rubbed over her skin but she simply didn't care. He felt fantastic. His hands seemed to be everywhere, and it didn't matter that his mouth was already on top of hers, brutalising her lips, she wanted him closer.

She needed this.
Needed the closeness.

They broke from the kiss, each of them gasping for air. Loki's mouth was fucking glorious, but the bloody thing was incapable of remaining silent for any longer than a couple of minutes at a time.
"If we do this..." His voice feathered against her ear, husky with need. "...if I surrender myself to you subserviently, without any resistance and let you have your way with me....once you are satiated, I am going to ravish you, do you understand? You will obey me, you will beg for more, and you will say my name!"

Obedience and submission was not in her nature, but by now she would agree to practically anything in order to put an end to her torment. Besides, the prospect of bringing such a proud, domineering god to his knees, was too tantalising to pass up on.
She placed her hands against his sturdy chest and shoved him hard, pushing him over onto his back once more, and true to his word, as agreed, he complied without protest or hesitation.

"This is forbidden." She breathed the words into a sentence, exhaling shakily. "So it better be worth it, lackey."
She moved atop him, throbbing away, already wet with arousal as her hands busily began working loose the fastenings on his armour.

"Vows are made to be broken, that's all part of the fun." He said lazily, but his eyes were brazen and alive with uninhibited desire.
"And surely fucking the god of mischief has to be worth it?"