Oh lord. I can't believe I'm putting this up. I SHOULD be finishing Chapter 12 of To Cleave the Stars (please don't hate me for this) but I blame a certain little bird for planting this idea that I have to get out first. Bird, you know who you are, and you should be ashamed of yourself.

I know I am.

She'd thrown the balcony doors open wide that night to let the breeze in, welcoming the trace of its cool fingers over her damp skin as Asgard sweltered in the embrace of another endless summer evening. The sky outside was still rosy about the edges, never fully succumbing to the night in the handful of years she'd lived here. The darkness still bit deeply into the wan light though, shadowing the sky overhead enough to allow her precious stars shine through. So many more than there'd ever been on Earth, it seemed, even though she knew that was impossible.

Her thin nightgown drifted about her in a pale cloud of silk as she leaned against the balcony and strained her view in the direction she'd figured Earth lay, as if she could pick out the sun of her home amongst the wild spray of stars through sheer will alone. She was happy here on Asgard, as Thor's consort, but duty often called her husband away and at times she found herself...restless. She'd never thought that traveling the universe would mean staying in one place.

Or spending so many evenings alone.

The soft click of a door latch had her turning back to face the bedchamber, the room filled with groaning shelves of books she'd had brought in. An enormous four-poster bed crouched on a dais, and she trailed her hand along one of the gauzy drapes that hung from it as she drifted back inside. In the half-light of twilight she saw Thor lingering at the entrance, his eyes raking over her with a banked heat that sparked an answering warmth in her belly.

"Jane," he murmured and pushed away from the door, his arms reaching for her. She to closed the space between them and sighed into his embrace, her loose hair whispering over his court attire. Ceremonial armor silvered the hard planes of his torso and his thick arms, cool beneath her cheek as she pressed her face against his chest. His familiar scent rose about her, cinnamon and sandalwood, and she filled her lungs with it greedily.

"You're late," she chided gently, and ran her hands up the fascinating curves of his chest to rest on his shoulders. He was so very tall, towering above her, and she had to strain on the very points of her bare toes to reach his lips with hers. He bowed into her kiss, eyes drifting shut as he threaded his fingers through the strands of her hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips, punctuating the apology with another soft kiss. "A king's work is never done."

She toyed with a lock of his gilded hair, pouting prettily up at him in mock affront. "I was getting so very lonely," she scolded.

His only answer was a low growl and another kiss that tugged at the threads that bound her limbs together, loosening them deliciously. Thor was always an eager, attentive lover...but tonight there was an edge of desperation to him, and she wondered if something had gone wrong in court that evening. Perhaps he'd quarreled with his difficult brother again.

She was startled when he turned them abruptly and pressed her against the door, the intricate carvings that bordered it digging into her shoulders and back. His tongue swept over the seam of her mouth, demanding entry, and she was powerless to resist.

But something was off, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The reckless press of his hips against hers perhaps, or the spiced taste of his tongue as it flickered over hers. She drew back, her brow clouded with confusion, and in the wan light that spilled from the open balcony doors she could have sworn the eyes that burned down at her were the green of glacial ice rather than Thor's own blue.

"Thor?" she wavered, a breath away from his mouth as her eyes searched his own.

She felt more than saw the ghost of a grin that curved his lips. "For the moment."

Beneath her hands the sculpted bulk of Thor melted into angular lines, cold metal fading to warm leather and brass, filling her vision with green the violent shade of poison. She found herself caged in the frame of leaner arms, dark hair falling forward to tickle her cheek as hungry eyes fixed her in place. She gasped, and pulled her hands back as if burned.

"Loki!" His name was a hoarse whisper that drew heat to her cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"Jane," he replied, but seemed in no hurry to relinquish his grip on her no matter how she pushed at him. "You seemed unhappy. I came to cheer you up."

Her heart stuttered at the wicked growl of his words, like a tiger purring warmly over its kill. She pushed against his chest again, but she couldn't deny that her struggle was decidedly less enthusiastic than it had been. "Have you gone insane?" she hissed.

He threw back his head and laughed at that, a glittering brash sound that drew her in despite herself. How many boring banquets had she stared at that laugh across the table, watching over the rim of her chalice as his sly eyes crinkled with humor as he entertained some guest? Fascination was a guilty flower that bloomed deep in her belly, lush with desire and shame. She couldn't meet his knowing eyes, had to turn her head aside. "You should leave."

His long fingers gripped her chin, tipped her face back toward him. "I should. But then I've never really been one for doing what I should, Jane." His thumb brushed over her lower lip, dipping into the seam of her mouth so very gently, leaving her skin damp in its wake. His eyes seemed transfixed by her parted lips, and she shivered beneath the weight of his regard. "Or wanting what I should."

"We...we can't," she protested, but it sounded weak and feeble even to her own ears.

A fierce grin broke over his face like thunder, the smile of a man who knew this was his game to lose. "Tell me to leave again Jane," he murmured as he nuzzled into her hair, the brush of his lips sparking against the sensitive skin behind her ear and turning her knees to water. "Say the word, and I'll go. And I'll never return."

Damn him for the gloating tone of his voice. He'd always been able to see right through her, from the very first day Thor had brought her here and he'd raked her with his piercing gaze before pronouncing her 'too good for Thor'.

Her protesting fingers turned to questing ones, lured in the dangerous direction the leather of his tunic arrowed. Downwards, trailing over the seams and lines of his torso, so much slimmer than Thor's. Her husband was bulk and strength, but Loki was hungry planes and wicked angles. Whipcord purpose given form. She wanted to see those pale ridges of his stomach for herself, see if it was as alabaster as the rest of him.

As if her touch had been all the consent he needed, Loki arched over her and pulled her against his chest, one hand fisting in her hair and dragging her head backwards. She went willingly, baring her throat to him in an unspoken surrender. Fervor kindled in his eyes, and he ran the tips of his finger over the pulse that hammered along her throat. He couldn't have possibly missed the way he'd shattered it, sent heat and hunger pounding through her veins.

"Jane," he murmured, and her name was wondrous on his lips - cradled as if it were a fragile treasure. She whimpered in response, and that small sound seemed to break whatever spell had held him in check. He fell on her like a starving man, his fingers fitted carefully into the spaces between her ribs as he crushed them together. Fire leapt up at the contact, at the way his grip fit so perfectly around her, turning whatever remained of her protest to ash in its unchecked blaze. She pressed back, arching her hips into his, meeting his kiss with an urgency that rivaled his own.

Until, just as she thought she might weep from wanting, her arms and mouth and lungs were suddenly empty. She stumbled into open air, surprise slackening her bruised lips, and her puzzled gaze found she was alone in the room. Her heart listed as her stomach fell, and she pressed a hand against her mouth to hold back the sudden onslaught of tears. Such a fool, she'd been...tricked by the trickster.

The first drops had begun to trail down her cheeks when the door opened again, the cool rush of air that came with it soothing against her hot face.

"Jane?" came Thor's voice, full of concern when he saw the tear tracks that traced wetly over her face, and his hand was a heavy weight on her shoulder. "What is wrong, my love?"

He pulled her into an embrace that only had her crying harder, shame and frustration knotted into a skein that tangled her breath in her chest. Bemused, Thor helped her into bed and curled his large frame about her own, held her and snored softly as she stared sightlessly out the open balcony doors at the ever-wheeling sky outside until early morning.

Wondering if she was only imagining the feel of ghostly fingers dancing maddeningly over her heated skin.