Compulsion (2,283 words) by LokiOfSassgaard
Characters: Loki, Sif
Additional Tags: drugged sex, non-consensual somnophilia
Loki hated it. Pining. It was the sort of thing he ought to have grown out of as a boy, and yet here he was, harbouring a melancholic jealousy he didn’t even want. He had long given up trying to catch her attention. His attempts to get her to see him as anything other than Thor’s younger brother had all been in vain, because that’s all anyone had ever seen him as.
She wasn’t alone, exactly. No one was truly alone while in a crowded mead hall. But the seat next to her was empty, and Loki never learned. He sidled up next to her, cup of wine in hand, and let himself get just a little too close.
“Loki, what do you want?” Sif asked, not even trying to sound like he hadn’t already annoyed her.
“Gossip and good drink?” Loki said, holding up his cup.
Sif shook her head, but she didn’t get up to leave him. Together, they sat in an uncomfortable silence until the man on Sif’s other side started boasting about slaying dragons, and Sif boasted back about slaying even bigger dragons, and Loki was utterly and completely ignored. He knew he should have got up to leave, but he couldn’t bear the shame of walking away. Instead, he stared into his cup and pretended he had come to drink alone. And after a few hours, when Sif stumbled off with the same man she’d spent all night having a verbal pissing contest with, Loki was left without even the illusion that he was with company.
After a battle always came drink. And in the tiny Elvish village, the drink flowed more freely than most places. As those in the hall one by one succumbed to the the ale and wine, Loki found himself amongst the last to still retain a semblance of his wits. The few that were still somehow conscious were only holding onto the last shreds, and would be quickly gone like the rest.
Loki wasn’t paying attention to any of them though. His gaze was fixed on Sif, sprawled nearby on the floor beside a bench. She had got up, intending to find a place to sleep for the night, and had got no further than right there. He watched her breathing, slowly and evenly; the rise and fall of her breast beneath her tunic. Without her armour to conceal her form, Loki could see the shape of her as he rarely did. The thought skittered across his mind that he could reach out and touch her, and nobody would notice. Nobody was even looking in his direction. He could touch Sif as he had always wanted, and she wouldn’t even know.
But it was a brief thought, chased quickly away at disgust with his own mind. How desperate was he that he would stoop so low? What kind of man was he that the only way he could get Sif’s attention was to steal it without her knowledge?
Loki rose to his feet and fled the hall, unable to escape the images still stuck in his mind.
He couldn’t get the image out of his mind. It was as though it chased him, relentlessly hounding him without mercy. Sometimes it would again flutter across his mind on a whim, allowing him to wonder what might have happened had he taken what he’d for so long wanted. Other times, he called it to memory, playing out the scenario as he took himself in hand. In those moments, the scene played differently though. It wasn’t some Elvish jarl’s crowded hall. When Loki played the scene in his mind, the hall was empty, and there were none to stop him from doing what he wanted to do with Sif’s body. He imagined what her flesh might taste like; the salt of her skin and the musk of the day’s activities. He imagined her soft, supple form beneath his hands, and how she might move against his touch, craving more even as she slept.
And she was always asleep. Never again did he imagine the two of them together, her using his body as much as he used hers. That illusion had been shattered, and now he had something attainable; something that was almost, and could have been real if he had just been brave enough to reach out and take it.
Loki stopped vying for Sif’s attention after that. He would never get it in a way that mattered, and he knew that now. Instead, he watched. He watched as she and Thor continued to dance around one another. He watched as she gave her attention to warriors bigger and stronger than Loki would ever be. He watched and he waited. Because Sif was confident. And like so many confident people, she was careless with who or what got her attention.
And eventually, what got Sif’s attention was a feast day. A day of drunken revelry and indulgence. Loki stayed close, watching her drink too much, and eat too little. He watched her travel from table to table, her delicate gown tight against her body to show off her every curve. He watched as she flirted and toyed with other men, but ultimately left all of them wanting. He watched as she crossed a threshold she was never aware of crossing, ignorant to her own limits. The feast had worn long into the night, and like so many times before, Sif was one of the last to stumble off. In that moment Loki knew he might never get this opportunity again. He leapt up, catching her arm as she stumbled awkwardly to one side. She looked up at him, and for a moment Loki expected her to ask what he wanted and to pull away from his grip. Instead she leaned into him and continued on her path.
Loki had never been overly fond of partners who were too drunk to know what they were doing, but Sif was not any tavern wench picked up on a whim. Loki could have what he wanted from her, and there wasn’t a soul on Asgard who could stop him.
She wouldn’t even know. She’d had so much to drink, Loki knew she wouldn’t even remember. And despite every apprehension and misgiving he may have had, Loki walked with her to her chambers. He helped her through the door and to her bed. And as she dropped from his grip, immediately spread out on the bed before him, Loki took one last moment to consider what he was doing. He looked back to the door, closed tightly between them and the rest of the realm, and all reason left him. Loki leaned over, nudging Sif toward the middle of the bed before climbing in with her. For a long moment, he gazed over her form, watching the gentle swell of her chest as she breathed. Her legs lay splayed open and inviting, as though waiting for him. Carefully, Loki pinched the hem of her gown. He watched Sif’s face as he gingerly lifted her gown, pulling it up so he could see her smallclothes beneath.
But she wore none. Her gown fit so tightly around her form that smallclothes would only get in the way. Nothing lay between Loki and the parts of Sif’s body Loki wanted most. He stared at her cunt, unable to believe he was finally able to see it. He had imagined it before, countless times, but never had he seen it until now. Loki tore his gaze away from it and looked back up to Sif’s face, finding her still asleep. Biting his lip, Loki moved between Sif’s knees, bending down to get a closer look as he carefully settled her gown out of the way.
Again, he looked up at her, and again found she hadn’t moved. Loki reached out to touch, dragging the pad of his finger over her opening. Sif didn’t so much as stir, so he did it again, this time pressing past her folds. He couldn’t decide between watching his fingers sink into her, or watching her face to know if she were about to wake. With a ragged breath, Loki buried his fingers inside her, feeling her from within. Her heat, her wetness. All of her. He was achingly hard within his breeches, and he imagined it was his dick he fucked her with as he drew his fingers out of her, and then buried them again. It only made him want her more, but he didn’t stop. He watched her face, part of him wanting to see her respond to him. He wanted her to know he touched her, even if she did not know it was him. But she still did not stir. Her breath did not hitch. She slept on, even as Loki continued to fuck her with his fingers.
With his other hand, Loki unlaced his breeches. While he used his fingers to pull whatever reaction he could from Sif, he began to stroke himself, keeping time so that he worked himself at the same pace he worked her.
When it became clear she would not rouse, Loki pulled his fingers from her. Compelled, he took his fingers in his mouth, tasting Sif on his own flesh. He licked and sucked on his fingers as he continued to stroke himself, moaning quietly beneath his breath until he could no longer taste her. He wanted more. With his caution exhausted, Loki lowered himself to bring his mouth to her cunt. He invaded her with his tongue, pulling her taste from as deep as he could reach. He rutted into his own hand and moaned against her, humming deep from within his chest. For a moment, he thought he felt Sif stir beneath him, but it was a fleeting moment. When he looked up at her again, she was still sound asleep; still had not moved from where he had put her.
Loki moved before he even realised what he was doing, but even as he climbed over her, he did not try to stop himself. He watched her face as he sunk himself into her cunt, having to push past her tightness around him. Still, she didn’t stir. Still, she slept on. Fully seated within her, Loki could barely breathe. He had never imagined he would be here, knowing Sif’s body on every level. He rutted slowly against her as he leaned down to taste her flesh, exactly as he had imagined countless times, and found her even better than he could have ever hoped. He felt her body through her gown, unable to get past it so tight and close around her. Loki kissed her lips, and imagined that she kissed him back. Instead, she groaned quietly, for just a moment, and was silent again. The sound drew an almost surprised whimper from Loki. He needed to hear her make that sound again. He needed her to respond to him, in any way. He fucked her harder, letting his weight fall over her. He buried his face in her neck and keened desperately against her. She was his, in every way that mattered, finally. She groaned again, and Loki gasped. He shifted on top of her, holding her around the hips to press their bodies closer together.
She stirred beneath him, turning her head to one side, and Loki dragged his mouth over her exposed neck. He got lost in her, moaning and gasping against her skin. Then she groaned again and turned her head back, and for just a moment her eyes drifted open. For just a moment, Loki felt as though he could see into her very soul. Then, her eyes closed again, and her head fell to the other side.
It drove Loki mad. He hitched her even closer to him, trying to bury himself as deep as he could inside her. Her eyes opened again for just a moment as she gasped, but Loki didn’t stop. She shifted beneath him, barely able to move, and Loki only increased his speed and his force as he rutted into her.
Lowly, Sif whimpered as she turned her head away again, and Loki shushed her.
“None of that,” he said breathlessly. “Come on. I’m almost there.”
He thought she pushed against him, but then she fell limp beneath him once more, her eyes staying closed. Loki bent his head over her shoulder and keened loudly as he neared completion. He held Sif against him, watching her face as he finally spilled. He trembled as he felt his seed filling her, and wondered if she’d ever know. Gasping and panting, Loki hastily backed away from her, watching as she continued to lie still. He quickly pulled his breeches back up and tied them, suddenly realising what he had done. Sif had seen him. He knew that, though he knew not whether she would remember having seen him.
Loki quickly got to his feet, gaze still fixed on Sif’s sleeping form. Her gown was still hitched up, and for a moment Loki thought to fix it. Maybe if he put it back, she’d think it was a dream.
But he stopped just short of reaching out for it. He wanted her to know. He wanted her angry with him. He wanted to see her rage and murderous fury.
He wanted her to not remember any of it. He her to know that she had crossed someone, and not know who. He wanted her to wake and realise what had happened to her with no memory of it.
Instead of fixing her gown, Loki slowly backed out of her chambers and rushed to find an alibi.
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