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locketofyourhair500+ | Sif/Loki/Fandral | G
unbeta'ed; for kink_bingo: exposure
Seeing Sif out of armor is a rare treat. Loki and Fandral both will take opportunities to put themselves into more customary attire, but Sif attends half the great meals and celebrations in her lightest armor, with a weapon in her hand. Fandral adores that she always looks ready to kill, but Loki likes seeing her without that armor, without the shield and the sword so she is utterly exposed.
He starts asking her to leave the largest of her personal weapons in her room. After all, it is dangerous and the dinners are rarely such large and dangerous affairs that she needs it. She looks at him with dark and suspicious eyes. Whatever there is between them, it is hard won and hard fought, and she does not yield without question. She is not like Fandral; she does not respond to Loki the way she will to Fandral, with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. No, Loki must fight for every inch.
She challenges him to a duel, and he loses. She keeps her weapon. She keeps it until Loki can’t help himself and he must use magic. She calls him a liar and a cheat, and he is covered in bruises. But he won, and she has to leave the sword behind.
Fandral takes up the challenge then, kissing the back of her neck in the evenings and taking a piece of armor a day. Sif fights him half the time, taking the shield back when he pulls it away from her back.
“Stop,” she says, and she is blushing, eyes bright. She is uncomfortable, to be this exposed, Loki thinks.
He thinks that until he sees her hand touch Fandral’s cheek, and the soft lilt to her voice when she says, “I am not going anywhere dressed as a true maiden.”
Fandral touches her side, her breasts. “If we could just show your beauty,” he whispers, and he bows to her.
“Fandral, your beauty is enough,” she says, but she’s pleased. She kisses the top of his head.
Loki has a thought then, a dark and dangerous thought, and he touches her cheek then. “But we want to show you,” Loki says softly. “You are gorgeous, and you are ours.”
She rolls her eyes. “And I am a warrior. None of the others show skin like maidens.”
Except Fandral wore less than a dancing girl on Alfheim to a celebration and looked like he owned the room, and Sif had no excuse.
Normally, the dress was simple, glamorous the way his mother is glamorous, but sometimes, she dresses as Fandral had, in a small top that exposes her stomach and a skirt open to show her entire legs. She wears her hair loose, using it as a cape to give flashing glances of her skin.
Fandral enjoys the attention of dressing near naked; this has never been in question. But in the fire glow of the hall, Sif stalks like a predator. She is glowing with satisfaction, enjoying that no one can look away. She doesn’t look to Loki or Fandral when she is dressed as such, but they know. They will see her in the night, and this confidence will take the day.