(Marvel) Nocturnal
April 14th, 2014 22:06![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Nocturnal
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Loki/Billy
Rating: R
Words: 491
Timeline: Post-Young Avengers V2
Notes: Questionable consent. Dirty talk. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comicdrabbles, prompt "pillow".
He doesn’t come here every night. Sometimes he goes whole weeks between visits.
But always he is drawn back, inevitable as the tide.
Billy is a restless sleeper, always moving, always fidgeting. Sheets tangled around his knees, pillows dragged across the bed. But he doesn’t wake.
He never wakes.
Not on these nights when Loki stands over him, and sometimes watching is simply enough. Taking in the hypnotic rise and fall of Billy’s chest, an almost-affectionate smile creeping across his face when Billy tosses and turns, mumbling nonsense in his sleep.
But tonight watching is not all Loki does.
He hovers above the bed, so close he can feel Billy’s body heat. Hair in his eyes and painted nails curled into his palms as he whispers utter filth, lewd promises and demands, a hundred fantasies and more.
Below him, Billy pants and writhes, coloured by a flush that spills from his cheeks to his neck and below the neckline of his t-shirt. Eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, but he will not wake.
Loki is trying so very hard to make the most of his fresh start, this new body and the freedom that comes with it. But this is his vice, and he is addicted.
Addicted to the soft, helpless noises Billy makes, to the buck of his hips. T-shirt twisted up around his torso, the flat muscles of his stomach exposed, the trail of dark hair beneath his navel. Pyjama bottoms tented over the hard lines of his arousal, and Loki watches with a dry mouth as the fabric darkens a little over the head of Billy’s cock as he leaks pleasure and need.
Loki murmurs to him, low and hungry. Tells Billy’s sleeping mind how he wants to touch him, taste him, take him, all the ways he could make Billy beg for more, could make him scream. Watching Billy moan, heels skidding over the bed, turning to curl around a stray pillow. Rubbing his hips into its softness, and Loki watches the flex of muscles across his lower back, gaze catching on the roundness of his ass.
Imagining himself, for just a moment, in the place of the pillow, Billy’s weight thrusting down upon him. Imagining closing the gap between them, pressing his aching cock against Billy’s ass, grinding against that fullness.
He won’t, of course. Bad enough that he is here, but that is a line even he refuses to cross.
Cannot help but think back to his first visit, to the suggestions planted that allowed Mother access to this realm, that allowed Loki access to Billy’s life.
He is not sure which Billy would deem worse, that initial sabotage or the smut that has followed.
There is an ache in his chest at the thought, and so he pushes it away. Instead content to observe the growing desperation of Billy’s movements, whispered sex in the air as he talks Billy towards yet another climax.
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Loki/Billy
Rating: R
Words: 491
Timeline: Post-Young Avengers V2
Notes: Questionable consent. Dirty talk. For
comicdrabbles, prompt "pillow".He doesn’t come here every night. Sometimes he goes whole weeks between visits.
But always he is drawn back, inevitable as the tide.
Billy is a restless sleeper, always moving, always fidgeting. Sheets tangled around his knees, pillows dragged across the bed. But he doesn’t wake.
He never wakes.
Not on these nights when Loki stands over him, and sometimes watching is simply enough. Taking in the hypnotic rise and fall of Billy’s chest, an almost-affectionate smile creeping across his face when Billy tosses and turns, mumbling nonsense in his sleep.
But tonight watching is not all Loki does.
He hovers above the bed, so close he can feel Billy’s body heat. Hair in his eyes and painted nails curled into his palms as he whispers utter filth, lewd promises and demands, a hundred fantasies and more.
Below him, Billy pants and writhes, coloured by a flush that spills from his cheeks to his neck and below the neckline of his t-shirt. Eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, but he will not wake.
Loki is trying so very hard to make the most of his fresh start, this new body and the freedom that comes with it. But this is his vice, and he is addicted.
Addicted to the soft, helpless noises Billy makes, to the buck of his hips. T-shirt twisted up around his torso, the flat muscles of his stomach exposed, the trail of dark hair beneath his navel. Pyjama bottoms tented over the hard lines of his arousal, and Loki watches with a dry mouth as the fabric darkens a little over the head of Billy’s cock as he leaks pleasure and need.
Loki murmurs to him, low and hungry. Tells Billy’s sleeping mind how he wants to touch him, taste him, take him, all the ways he could make Billy beg for more, could make him scream. Watching Billy moan, heels skidding over the bed, turning to curl around a stray pillow. Rubbing his hips into its softness, and Loki watches the flex of muscles across his lower back, gaze catching on the roundness of his ass.
Imagining himself, for just a moment, in the place of the pillow, Billy’s weight thrusting down upon him. Imagining closing the gap between them, pressing his aching cock against Billy’s ass, grinding against that fullness.
He won’t, of course. Bad enough that he is here, but that is a line even he refuses to cross.
Cannot help but think back to his first visit, to the suggestions planted that allowed Mother access to this realm, that allowed Loki access to Billy’s life.
He is not sure which Billy would deem worse, that initial sabotage or the smut that has followed.
There is an ache in his chest at the thought, and so he pushes it away. Instead content to observe the growing desperation of Billy’s movements, whispered sex in the air as he talks Billy towards yet another climax.
