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locketofyourhair800+ | NC-17 | Loki/genderqueer!Fandral
Unbeta'ed; kink bingo: object penetration. Whoo strap ons
He likes it a lot when Fandral pushes him onto their bed and starts kissing his jaw. She's dressed from work still, but her makeup is retouched because they both like the way it smears when she kisses him.
He loves the way she smells and how damned demanding she can get. She pins him to the bed, holding him there with her body as she kisses, one hand starting to undo his shirt. "Can I fuck you?" she whispers.
She's aggressive and demanding, and he already wants to feel her inside of him. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants through her kisses.
Fandral grins and kisses him again, her last kiss biting. "Get undressed and prepped for me," she says, batting her eyelashes demurely and Loki loves her so fucking much.
Loki undresses quickly. He wears nearly the same thing to work every day, and he's good at disrobing. He loves watching Fandral take off her clothes though, watching the soft blouse she's wearing slip off her shoulders, and then the cami underneath it. They've been together for years, but it still feels intensely new at times.
"Stop staring," Fandral says, rolling her eyes. She's still smiling, but she turns away from him to pull out the dildo and the harness she's going to use on him. It's bigger than normal, wider. "You need to prep," and there's a challenge in her tone that Loki can't help but respond to
Loki does as he's told, but it feels more perfunctory, the push of his fingers and the slide of lube. He wants her, wants to feel the hard press of the dildo inside of him. He wants to feel her stretch him a little, so his body has to fight just enough to get used it, just enough that it hurts in the best sort of way.
He's slowly working two fingers in and out while she adjusts the harness on her hips, so it rides high enough on her body, the bright turquoise dildo standing straight out from her body. Her skin is tanned from long runs in the afternoon sun, and he can't believe that she's his sometimes, or even that he's hers.
He pushes the third finger in just to be sure, just to be ready, and then she's crawling on the bed and reaching for him.
She raises her eyebrow, and Loki tries to look innocent, like he was being good and thorough about prep. "You're that desperate?" she whispers, and she kisses him again, holding his chin in her hand.
"I want to feel it," he says, docile under her. The dildo is slightly cold where it touches him. He traces the straps of the harness with one hand.
Fandral smirks and stretches out on the bed beside him then, waving one hand imperiously. "Show me then?" she says, and her tone is only a little tentative. Loki has never really enjoyed riding; he likes when Fandral does it, holding up on muscular thighs, so Loki can watch.
Loki kisses her, and he smears just a bit more of the lipstick across her face. "Yes," he whispers, pulling one leg over her. He has to be careful here, strandling her smooth, hard stomach rather than settling on her thighs. He tries to be careful where he touches her still. He's working at it.
She reaches down to hold the dildo rigid while he lines himself up, then batting her hand away. He knows how to do this, and the push in is perfect. It hurts and he hisses low through his teeth, shivering. Her hands circle his hips. "Do you want me to?"
Loki shakes his head, bracing himself on her upper abdomen. "Let me move for you," he says, and he pushes up again. He's not as smooth at this as Fandral; he's still skinnier than she is. Some of the college muscle mass has dwindled, but Fandral has always been an athlete.
He concentrates instead on the dildo, the hardness of it inside him. It feels different than her cock, and he likes that, like this is just one more reminder of who she is today. He kisses her jaw, moving so slowly because he wants to memorize the stretch and the slide, the way her skin is flushed. Her lipstick is ruined; he's probably wearing half of it.
She begins to jerk him off, and he gasps, letting his eyes flutter closed. She moves, just a little, and Loki's own rhythm staggers. He feels less in control, and he likes that. He forces himself to look at her, to watch her intent expression as she works him and fucks up into him, and he can't last.