Summary:

One insanely hot tango ratchets the sexual tension between the God of Mischief and the Black Widow... Which one will give in to their desires first?

Notes:

Written for anon on AvengerKink meme on LJ.

Prompt: The Avengers (just some or all of them, author's choice) are undercover at a high class party trying to stop a villain's evil plot (which villain and the details of the plot are also author's choice). They realize that Loki is there out of boredom, and Natasha gets picked to distract him. The band strikes up a tango and Loki surprises Natasha by asking her to dance. Cue one insanely hot tango which ratches the sexual tension between them up to eleven and ends with them kissing in the middle of the dance floor. The Avengers foil the villain's plot and Loki vanishes, leaving Natasha to face the mixed reactions of her teammates.

Of course, Loki shows up in Natasha's room later to make it up to her.

Bonuses:
-+10 for the following Avenger reactions: Steve disapproving, Tony asking how good of a kisser Loki is, Thor apologizing for Loki's impropriety, Clint being amused, and Bruce not caring.
-+100 if Loki not only knows Natasha's supposed to be distracting him, he somehow arranged for her to be the distraction.
-+10,000 and the Internet if Loki and Natasha already have a secret enemies with benefits relationship going on.

# # #

Natasha Romanov felt like she was babysitting preschoolers. Granted, it wasn't one of their best assignments, but it wasn't half bad, so she didn't understand all the complaining. It wasn't every day you got to go to a posh party in their line of work, so it was a nice change of pace. But she was with five guys who liked to blow shit up and knock each other silly rather than just stand around observing people in fancy clothes.

It was laughable, really. They were actually pouting. Jesus, you would think their toys had been taken away. It was one fucking party and she got to wear a killer dress and almost-impossible-to-walk-in heels, damnit. She was going to enjoy this.

Natasha swirled the plastic sword that had conveniently stabbed an orange slice and a cherry in her drink and continued to listen to them complain to each other. She'd give anything to have Pepper pull her aside for some girl talk right now, but she wasn't that lucky. In a minute, she was going to stab the little sword in someone's eye if the bickering didn't stop.

"Tell me again why we are at this thing?" The question came from Steve.

"Because we were given orders to infiltrate and assess any danger to national security based on the tip we received," answered Tony. "More importantly, I was invited."

There was the Tony Stark she knew. At least he was somewhat used to going to events like this because he was a gazillionaire and his presence was not only demanded, but expected. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't be the one stabbed. That left the 90-Year Old Virgin, the Jolly Green Giant, the God of Awesome Hair, and the World's Greatest Marksman.

"And what, we're just your entourage?" She smiled at Clint's outrage. She knew it annoyed him to no end that the consultant on the team had more say-so than he did. "You're just that fucking fabulous, aren't you?" Ah, now they had graduated to high-school by using more colorful language.

"Well, this party is being held in Stark Tower," Tony respond, emptying the glass in his hand and slamming it down on the bar counter behind him. She briefly wondered if she should ask the bartender for a ruler or if it was more fun to stand here and watch Tony strut in front of the other Avengers.

"That's very convenient for us, Tony." Oh, so the Jolly Green Giant could talk when he wanted to.

"Yes, it is, isn't it? Seems that Trump Tower was having some security system issues, therefore not the ideal place for the President to hold this lovely party we're attending. Makes it easier for us, doesn't it?" Tony didn't even have to announce he was behind the security issues at Trump Tower, but she still wanted to high-five him. The man was a frikken genius to start, but there was no way in hell he was going to allow a fellow gazillionaire to steal the President's attention. Tony was ever the attention-whore. She honestly had no idea why Pepper put up with him.

"What's the danger we are supposed to be assessing, exactly?" There was Steve again, asking for specifics and clarification on the mission and being all logical.

"Rumor has it that a Skrull is here, possibly to attempt to assassinate the President," Bruce answered.

"Oh, well, then they should be easy to find considering we have no fucking idea who the thing is impersonating." Wow, Clint really was in a foul mood.

"That's why we are here. To observe and intercede if necessary." Steve wasn't stupid, but for someone with enhanced brain power, it had taken him a minute to catch up. "Where did this tip come from?"

"A…trustworthy source, I assure you." Up until now, the God of Awesome Hair was eerily quiet and she knew in an instant that he knew something no one else did. She was about to question who his trustworthy source was when another rather colorful explicative came from Clint.

All in her company turned to look at him before noticing his gaze was locked on a single individual on the other side of the ballroom. They, in turn, shifted their gaze to follow.

Natasha's heart skipped a beat. There, across the room, was Thor's mischievous little brother looking hot as fuck. The six-foot-one God was gorgeous in the leather and metal armor he usually wore (and yes she even thought his horns were hot) but tonight…

She liked a man in a suit. It was one of her turn-ons, she was proud to admit. It was probably why she spent so much time around Tony, much to Pepper's annoyance. There was something obnoxiously attractive about a good looking man in a fine, tailored suit. Suit porn, she'd call it. The cut of the fabric, the crisp white shirt, and a tie to compliment the look? Ooooo, so yummy and extremely dapper. It made any man look sharper. Now tuxedos, she thought, quickly chugging down the Sex on the Beach she was gripping (she needed that drink like she needed air), that was even better. It kicked the appeal up to astronomical levels.

And Loki fucking owned that suit. Every other man in the room just didn't compare. Of course he couldn't be bothered to wear a traditional black and white tuxedo with a boring bow tie to an event like this, nooooooo... he had to be different. The black jacket he wore was ribbed with dark green silk facings, complimented by a green and gold ribbed silk tie that disappeared neatly into a dark green vest. A dark green and gold silk handkerchief in the jacket pocket rounded off the look.

But, it just wasn't what he wore. It was also how he moved, how he stood. He was royalty, he knew it, and everyone in the room knew it because the aura around him fucking screamed that he was a bad ass motherfucker and not to mess with him.

The first time she had ever seen him, deep inside SHIELD headquarters, she had lost the ability to form coherent speech. She had been in the middle of a conversation, too. Loki had been in cuffs, surrounded by at least eight armed guards and yet he had had the nerve to smirk at her as he walked by. It was something she was still berating herself over, as a psychopathic villain—an alien—wasn't usually the kind of guy she went for.

The contrast of long black hair against his somewhat alabaster skin was a striking combination. The sharp, narrow features of his face (his chiseled cheekbones and jawline were a fucking work of art) were intimidating, even against the handsome looks of his brutish brother. And yet there was something oddly warm about Loki's beauty that betrayed the evil scowl he wore half the time. Sorrow hid behind those piercing blue-green eyes that had the unique ability to bore into your soul if you weren't careful.

She knew that from experience…

But, his hair tonight. His haaaaaaaaaaaaaair. Unf, she could only describe his inky black hair as floofy. It was still long, well past his shoulders, but she had only ever seen it slicked back away from his perfect face, adding to his wicked demeanor. Tonight, however, it was softer, and the wavy curls…wait, how did Loki have curls? They contradicted his badassery! Sweet baby Jesus, his hair curled against the collar of his jacket, taking his evil factor to practically zero. And a perfect lock of hair had managed to escape and rest against his forehead.

Fuck, she just wanted to march over there and brush the stray lock away from his face.

A beautiful, flawless face that mirrored boredom and he hadn't even noticed the six of them were staring at him.

"What the hell is he doing here?" she blurted out her thought in a breathier voice than she had intended. Her cheeks heated up as five sets of eyes focused on her. It was the first thing she had said all evening, so she wasn't surprised she had caught them off guard, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that four of them were smirking. The Blonde Barbarian, however, was frowning. Fuck, was it so easy to discern from her silly little question that she was really fucking turned-on right now?

Damnit, she hoped not.

A sudden thought occurred to her. She glanced down at the gown hugging her curves. She instinctively palmed the fabric, as if inspecting it for lint. Dark green. Dark fucking green! Why the fuck had she picked that color to wear tonight? Something compelled her to wear it. Laughter? She would swear she could hear mischievous laughter echoing in her ears. Her fucking dress fucking matched his fucking suit.

She jerked her head back up and glared at the God of Mischief. The God of Lies and Deceit. The God of Fucking Green!

Oh shit, he didn't look bored anymore. Nope, he was looking right at her and the corners of his mouth were twitching as if he could read her thoughts.

Well, fuck…

"I highly doubt he was invited," came a comment from Captain Obvious.

"Ya think?" Clint replied. "I wouldn't put it past him to be behind this."

"My brother is not behind this." Thor sounded pretty sure of that statement, but it was instinct to doubt him. Loki was the God of Up to No Good, there was no predicting what fuckery he would get in to just to see how they would squirm.

It was kind of enjoyable, actually. He kept them on their toes with his unpredictability. But, right now she'd give anything to know what Loki was thinking. From across the ballroom, he slowly gave her a once-over, going from the top of her red curls to the tips of her peep-toed heels and back up.

A shiver spiked down her spine and not because she was cold.

"Are you sure?" she asked, clearing her throat and hoping her voice was much more assertive this time.

"He's the source. Am I right?" Natasha broke her gaze with the God of Mischief and rolled her eyes. For fucks sake, was Steve really that slow? The dude was sweet, but really?

"How can we trust anything he says? He lies, remember?"

"My brother speaks the truth."

"But, how can you be absolutely sure?"

"Steve, if anyone were to take down the ruler of this land, my brother would do it himself and only when it suited him and if it had a strategic advantage. He would not send an imposter to do it. It'd be a source of pride with him."

Well, Thor had a point there.

"Well, then does he know who the Skrull is?" Bruce chimed in with the same question she had. If Loki was the source, then logic dictated he might have a clue who they were looking for. However, how to get him to tell them was another matter.

"If he knew, he probably wouldn't tell us, the little shit." Oh, how Natasha loved Clint's snarkiness.

"Anytime he's around, mischief ensues. It's his God-given right, literally. I can't blame him, but we need a distraction so we can focus on figuring out who it is." Tony sounded entirely too cheery for this conversation.

But what kind of distraction was the question. For a full minute she pondered what they could do to distract Loki, get an idea of who the Skrull was impersonating, and how to stop said Skrull from assassinating the President before she realized her cohorts in fighting evil were all staring at her.

"Nat."

"Anthony," she replied, a sculpted eyebrow arching in annoyance on its own accord. Tony Stark only ever called her by the shortened version of her name—that she hated—when he wanted something.

"We need a distraction."

"No shit, Sherlock," sarcasm dripped from her voice. What the hell did he think she was trying to figure out?

"Mind providing us with one, dear? Seems our evil, blue elf over there only has eyes for you."

She chanced a glance at the mischief-maker whom still had eyes on her. With a smirk permanently plastered on that beautiful face, he crooked one long, elegant finger at her in a beckoning gesture. Her body tingled in in anticipation.

Well crap on a cracker, Tony was right.

Fine. Fuck, fine. But, he owed her one. This was a big, BIG favor she was doing for the team and not one she was exactly happy about, or so she pretended.

Natasha sighed. Giving in to being the bait to distract Loki was inevitable. She could be picked to do worse things, she supposed… like babysitting her teammates, for one.

It crossed her mind that it might be kind of fun to verbally spar with Loki right now and it was for that reason that her brain sent the signal for her feet to move.

Yup, that was the reason. Totally.

The tattoo of her heart echoed loudly in her ears, drowning out the music playing, as she slowly moved between the throngs of people dining. Natasha squared her shoulders as she approached him before realizing she was being ridiculous. She was a grown woman and had gone toe-to-toe with him before in the heat of battle, with guns blazing, so why was right now any different? Because she had gotten used to his Asgardian armor, that's why. Him looking hot as fuck in a suit was a new variable, one she wasn't prepared for.

He also wasn't trying to kill anyone at the moment, which also could be considered a turn on.

Damn her feet, she stopped entirely too close to him for comfort, and yet she couldn't bring herself to step back. Even in four inch heels, she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"Black Widow," he greeted her in that deep, foreign accent that destroyed her ovaries.

"Evil Tyrant," she replied. Oh snap, where did that come from? That was fabulous! Great timing, too, she thought. That is until his smirk slowly formed into an unholy-yet-adorable grin. She wanted to throw her hands in the air in defeat, this wasn't fair. He was amused at her comeback and her hormones were doing jumping jacks in response.

"What do you want, Loki?" Well, that was a stupid question and not the one she was going for. She had meant to ask something along the lines of "What are you doing here?" in order to ferret out the information they needed to complete this mission, but that's not what came out of her mouth. She totally didn't mean to ask the gorgeous pain in her ass what he wanted.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out; she knew exactly what he wanted. His face became a façade of seriousness and raw, hunger blazed behind those piercing blue-green eyes.

Natasha swallowed. It was a very dangerous game they were about to play and she couldn't wait.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and hovered there. What, exactly, was he contemplating? Just to be wicked, she licked her raspberry-stained lips before pulling the bottom one between her teeth.

A corner of her mouth quirked up at the low, growl that resonated from his chest. When he moved ever so slightly closer to her, the room suddenly became an inferno. He knew exactly how to invade her personal space and her cheerleading hormones just wouldn't stop.

She lunged for a passing waiter carrying a tray of champagne and stole a flute. She downed the bubbly liquid in one gulp, gasping for breath when she finished. She put the flute back as quickly as she got it onto another try passing by.

And then everything became still. People stopped eating, couples stopped dancing, and the band stopped playing.

It was freaky as shit.

Only the mischievous devil and she remained unfrozen and she knew he had something to do with the sudden quiet in the room.

Natasha frowned. She was about to ask what the fuck was going on when he asked her to dance.

But, no music was playing. The Frost Giant had frozen everyone.

As if he heard her thought loud and clear, time moved back into a flurry of motion. Or had she just been imagining it all? Crap, she didn't know anymore!

"Dance with me, Ms. Romanov," he demanded, moving another inch closer to her. She refused to step back. She wasn't losing this game, damnit, even though she wanted to run screaming from the room and not because she was afraid. God or not, there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of backing down.

"Dance with you?" Damnit, there was that unintentional, breathy voice again. Marilyn Monroe could kiss her ass.

"Yes…," Loki whispered, extending out the simple word into the hiss of a deadly reptile. Appropriate, she thought.

"Why should I?" Give her a valid reason and she'd do it, but not until he gave her one. Please give me one, she thought.

"Because…," he paused to look around the room before focusing his attention on her again. His eyes twinkled in merriment when he finished. "I'll give you exactly what you want, Ms. Romanov." The cadence of his speech was slow and deliberate, each word enunciated with the erotic lilt of his voice.

"The Skrull." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. That's what she wanted to know and that's what she was going to get, even if hell froze over for her to get it.

He didn't agree, per se, but instead made a humming noise and nodded.

He flicked his wrist and the band's tune suddenly changed to cover The Gotan Project's "Santa Maria (Del Buen Ayre)".

"A tango?" He wanted to dance a tango? Loki Laufeyson could dance the fucking tango? How and where did he learn to do that? Did they have tango lessons on Asgard?

Those and a few million other questions raced across her mind in that mere second waiting for his answer.

Which, she didn't get. He merely smirked and brought his hand up, slowly running the back of his elegant fingers down her bare shoulder. His knuckles brushed against the smooth skin of her arm, igniting a trail of heat that raced to her groin. He feathered his fingers past her elbow, before finally finding her hand. OhmyfuckingGodsweetJesus!

Loki grabbed the tips of her fingers and pulled her hand up, releasing it near his face. He splayed his hand close to her cheek before smoothing it against her hair. The impossible man found and released the pin that held her hair in the perfect queue on top of her head in one swift move, causing the red curls to cascade down her back. He flicked it somewhere on the dance floor behind her before wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck. He gently squeezed, indicating that she needed to participate in this or else.

Good thing she also knew how to dance the tango and if he wanted to do this, then so be it. But, only because she'd get the information she needed. Right?

She flattened her palm against his shoulder blade. The hand that could have killed her in an instant with a squeeze (the man had obnoxious super-human strength, she discovered in the past, that he probably could have ended her life right then and there if he wanted to) flitted down and around her back, coming to rest just under her right breast. In perfect harmony with the music, his other hand grabbed her waist, fisting in the skin-tight material to pull her closer to him in a possessive move.

Breathe, Natasha, breathe!

His feet moved and she followed, unable to do anything but follow his lead. A step back, then two—he pulled her into him—then one forward, leaning over her. Dancing to the beat, they became one with the music. Closeness was broken as they pulled apart, holding each others forearms as he moved sideways, stepping backwards. She followed suit, but stepping forward. The whole time, it was only them in the room. Everyone else faded away as their gazes remained locked and magic was woven into the air around them.

He spun her in perfect timing to the dance and coming out of the spin, he jerked her against him. Natasha clung to him, while his arm snaked around her waist. Her knee slipped out from the slit in her dress to press against his side as he slowly dragged her across the dance floor. Snapping forward, they turned and turned before he spun her away again, but never released her hand. Pulling herself to him again, she whipped to the side in perfect tango-esque fashion before dragging herself up. They twirled, stepping together in unison around the dance floor, her dress whipping around and around until they stopped.

She flung her back against his chest, his grunt satisfactory to her ears. One leg extended to the side, she slid down, digging her manicured nails into his thighs. His hands hooked under arms, he tugged her back up and not caring who saw, she conveniently brushed her hand against his crotch. She smiled when he groaned.

Her back plastered against his chest, her head fell to the side. Loki took the opportunity to sweep the curls off her shoulder and bite the string of pearls draped around her neck. A shudder reverberated throughout her body when his warm breath fanned against her skin.

It was her turn to moan. In synch with his movements, she slid one leg to left then the other to the right. Forward once, forward twice. She lifted her arm, draping it around his neck. Her hand found its way into his luscious locks, tugging because she had the opportunity. The growing hardness against her ass was her reward for doing so.

Oh baby, it was on.

She whipped herself around to face him again. One hand wrapped by his and the other angled on his shoulder, they continued to move together to the tempo of the music, shifting and turning in time. She kept her upper body still, twisting and pivoting her feet as he propelled her around him. She never took her eyes off him, unable to miss the unadulterated need and lust in his stare.

She reciprocated it.

His head already tilted down toward her, she pushed up on her toes, bumping her nose with his. He lifted her into his arms, her knees draped over his forearm. They spun and spun and spun in a beautiful rhythm before he finally let her heels touch the floor. Whirling her away from him one final time as the music came to an end, he jerked her to him. One hand digging into her waist, the other holding her wrist to his chest, she was unable to do anything but be at his mercy.

The realization that it had been that way through the whole dance and would always be that way dawned on her far too late. Time seemed to stand still once again as Natasha just stood there, wrapped in his embrace, waiting for air to return her lungs. His lips hovered over hers and—damnit! Was he going to kiss her or not? Because if he didn't in the next second, she was going to—

Loki slammed his lips down on hers before she started whimpering. He let her wrist go and instead fisted his hand in her hair, jerking her head back so he would have better access to her mouth.

She happily let him.

Natasha gripped the lapels of his jacket, melting against him. His lips were hard and demanding and—fuuuuuuuuuuuck! She was going to lose her sanity! Fireworks exploded somewhere deep inside her and the pep rally for her reproduction system shouted in excitement. He claimed her lips with such passion and abandon, (and something else she couldn't quite explain) that she wasn't so sure this was the same hell-bent-on-world-domination egomaniac she had previously fought.

And if he was, she'd be the first to kneel as his slave.

Natasha knew it was futile to resist the swift entry of his tongue. He was going to have his way and there was nothing she could do about it. If she hadn't been holding on to him for dear life, she would have dropped to the floor. Her knees buckled at the sheer intensity of waging a tongue battle with Thor's bratty brother that she was sure there was magic involved in it.

She was amazed she was able to hear his purely animalistic growl over the roar of blood rushing in her ears. She was still gasping for breath when he released her from the fast and primal kiss. His hands cupped her face and she leaned against his chest for support.

"The red dress," he whispered, thumbing her bottom lip.

"Hm?" Well, crap! She couldn't even form words now, the rat bastard. How the hell did he do that?

"The one you seek wears the red dress." Amusement tinged his voice. Was she really that bemused?

"Um…okay," was all she was able to mumble. Yup, guess she was. How ridiculous! If anyone saw her like this, she would never live it down.

Oh shit! How could she have forgotten? She was just supposed to distract Loki, not eye fuck him from across the room! And then a tango? Really?

She pushed away from his chest. She was beyond mortified! Everyone was staring at her, including the President, the First Lady, and the rest of her team, like she had just sprouted wings. Well, no shit, she had just swapped spit with the devil!

Ugh, she could feel the heat creep up her cheeks and she was absolutely sure her face was as red as her hair.

She turned around, stumbling slightly, and stood there as if her feet were cemented in stone. She was pretty sure she mumbled something about him being the suckiest sucked that ever sucked which got a hearty chuckle out of him in response.

She finally moved when she heard Tony's boisterous laughter. She wasted no time and made a hasty retreat from Loki. She got her answer, so why did she feel like she had lost their little game?

He was watching her run away in defeat and probably enjoying every second of it.

I am, little spider, but only because your ass looks marvelous in that dress.

She halted, hearing his smooth, seductive voice clear as day in her head. Why you evil, son of a—

The night is still young, Agent Romanov.

And just like that, poof, he was gone. Literally! She had turned around to ask just what, exactly, he thought he was doing by invading her private thoughts—how it was even possible—but he was no longer there. The space he had occupied was empty and the sparkle of his presence had faded.

She continued her journey toward her companions, ready to deliver her message. Red dress, red dress… What did he mean by "The night is still young"? Why hadn't he said "Until we meet again," or "Tomorrow I start my world domination plan again" or anything like that?

Because he did what he wanted, that's why.

The five men she had arrived to this little soiree with were no longer bickering at each other like children wanting to play with the same toys. No, actually, she felt like she had become the little sister to five very protective and overbearing brothers who wanted an explanation of her behavior.

She stopped and noted their expressions: Steve looked disappointed, Tony looked entirely too giddy, Thor looked apologetic, Clint looked amused, and Bruce looked like he could give a crap.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," Tony said in a rather cheery voice. "Nice going, Natasha. I think the whole room was distracted. Got it on camera, too."

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"I've never seen…dancing like that before." Not that she really cared, but she didn't like the disapproval she heard in Steve's voice. She couldn't blame him. The guy was a Boy Scout, but shit, didn't he ever swing dance back in his day? That had to be raunchier than a tango when the chemistry was right.

"So, how good of a kisser is he? It looked pretty hot."

"Tony!" Thor came forward and took her hand. "I am sorry for my brother's impropriety. Are you all right?"

Clint chuckled. "I think she's better than all right, big boy." He slapped Thor on the shoulder. "Right, Natasha?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I'm fine. It was just a dance." She flung her hair over her shoulder, annoyed.

"That's all he said it would be, anyways."

Shut the front door… what the hell was Tony talking about? "That's all he said it would be?" Red clouded her vision. "When did you speak to Loki?"

"I owed him a favor," Tony shrugged nonchalantly like it wasn't a big deal that he had set her up. "Said he would tell us who the imposter was if you danced with him. Have to say, Nat, I didn't think you'd go for it so easily."

Natasha said a very naughty word in her native language and didn't give a flying fuck that it made Steve turn cherry red. She didn't need a gun to kill Tony Stark, she was about to do it with her bare hands. She was going to Hulk-smash him right in the face. He looked appropriately terrified as she approached.

"How the hell does Pepper put up with you?" She didn't give Tony the chance to answer before turning to the beefy L'Oreal commercial. "Your brother set this whole thing up, just to fuck with us, by the way!" She was shouting now. That mischievous laughter she heard in her head earlier? Yea, that one? She heard it now and knew her assumption was correct.

"Natash—" Her hand flew up to stop Thor's miserable attempt at an explanation of his brother's actions.

Her hand still covering Thor's mouth, she turned to Bruce. He hadn't pissed her off and therefore was her best friend at the moment. "He said to look for a woman wearing a red dress."

"The dress code called for black attire." The Master of Zen was smart not to mention the color of her dress.

"Tony, where is your girlfriend tonight?"

"Pepper's having dinner with her parents, Steve." Tony frowned. He must've heard Steve's accusatory tone, too. She dropped her hand from Thor's mouth. "Why?"

"Because she's here," he answered and all of them watched as the woman in question stood in the doorway on the other side of the ballroom.

Natasha smiled.

Pepper Potts was wearing a red dress.

# # #

Natasha didn't care that she hadn't bothered to say goodbye. She just left. She got the information she needed, relayed it to her coworkers, and they took care of it. It didn't take all of them to deal with one stupid Skrull.

Tony had the smarts to call Pepper on her cell phone to confirm she was indeed at dinner with her parents. That subsequently led Tony's ass to be chewed out rather nicely by his secretary-slash-girlfriend for the interruption and for checking up on her.

Natasha already liked her for putting up with Tony, but now she wanted to marry the woman.

She would find out later that the Skrull had made the stupid choice to make a beeline for the President without regard to the Secret Service agents that were scattered throughout the ballroom. Nevermind that the Avengers were also there and her five coworkers were able to intercept the fake Pepper Potts before she did any damage.

She left the venue and took the black SUV SHIELD had provided as transportation to get them to the party. The boys could find their own way back; she just needed space to herself. She called her boss, Nick Fury, to tell him she was taking a day or two of vacation starting right now and not to disagree.

He knew better than to argue with her.

It took a while, perhaps a few hours, but she headed north out of the city. The vehicle's GPS navigated her to a small town in the middle of nowhere that had a small bed and breakfast.

Perfect.

She paid for her room and was thankful the sweet, little old lady with piercing blue-green eyes at the front desk didn't ask why she had no luggage and was wearing an evening gown. Guess the grandmother had seen stranger things in her days.

She was beyond emotionally exhausted and wanted to do nothing but sleep until next week. She was embarrassed by her own body's betrayal and now the unending sexual frustration.

A bath or even a cold shower would probably do a world of good right about now, but she just wanted to strip and fall into bed. Tomorrow would be a better day, right?

She kneeled to unbuckle the strap wrapped around her left ankle when the softest of noises, barely above a whisper, tickled her ear from somewhere behind her. She wouldn't have even registered it if her body wasn't already on high-hormone alert. She stood slowly, but didn't turn around. She didn't move, didn't say a word; the only sound echoing was her breath.

For a full minute, she contemplated the possibility that it was her own mind playing tricks on her when she heard a soft hissing noise.

She'd rather be prepared than not. She'd sleep with her gun under her pillow if it made her feel better, damnit.

An agent always, always kept a weapon of choice with them at all times. Her beloved friend tonight was a pistol strapped to her left thigh. She could kill anyone with her bare hands if she had to and she would fight tooth and nail against her attacker except that hand-to-hand combat wasn't feasible in her dress.

Natasha slowly slinked her hand to the slit in the fabric so as not to catch the attention of whomever or whatever was in her room.

Too late… was all she heard in her head a split second before she heard a faint pop. She felt a warm hand wrap around her throat. It tightened, cutting off her air, but she did manage to strangle out a gasp before her back was slammed against a hard, familiar chest. A second hand followed hers, resting over her hand and the pistol securely tightened in the holster.

That won't work… again, the voice in her head warned her of what she already knew. The hand wrapped around her neck softened and became gentle, the fingertips sliding up to cup her chin. Her face was turned to meet the lips of the man—no, the god— who had embarrassed, annoyed, aggravated, danced with and seduced her earlier.

A litany of curses streamed through her thoughts as he captivated her again, with his lips slanting over hers once, then twice. She whimpered in surrender the third time, unable to do anything but hold on for dear life as she lost her mind. His fingers brushed up her thigh, caressing the sensitive skin in an exquisite pattern, making her squirm against him. He toyed with the thin band of her thong before he slipped his long, graceful fingers past the satin fabric. Without permission, he found her core and stroked her, silencing her moan with his unforgiving tongue.

She wanted to hate him, really, she did. He was the enemy, damnit. Despite knowing he could snap her neck in an instant like a twig because he was a freaking god, she pushed against him in a half-hearted struggle, but it only made him growl into her mouth as a result. Her ass was shoved perfectly against the hard junction of his thighs and she could do nothing but be at his mercy as she was held against him.

I need you, little spider…I need you now. He was not supposed to be her lover. She had told herself that the last time they fucked like the world was ending (because it was, she reminded herself, and he had been responsible for that little episode as well).

And he wasn't supposed to be bringing her to an orgasm in what… thirty seconds with just his fingers in her and his tongue in her mouth? Was her body just that primed and amped for sexual attention? But dear Goooooooooood! His fingers were magical!

"Yes, they are," he managed to whisper with that beautiful accent in her ear when he broke contact with her mouth. Air was a beautiful necessity as a human, a true gift he had graciously bestowed upon her, but so was the image of the God of Mischief dropping to his knees in front of her. Her brain was able to process the fact that he had discarded the jacket, but kept the vest and tie. The crisp, white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. Forearms that tore the slit in her dress apart like it was flimsy tissue paper.

She shouted when his teeth made contact with her sensitive nub. He tugged on her flesh, capturing the little bundle of nerves between them and teased her with his tongue. She sunk her nails into his inky, black hair and pulled him closer to her, if that was even possible. His groan hummed against her, causing shivers of pleasure to radiate throughout her body. The more she pulled on his locks, the harder he nipped and teased with his teeth and tongue. It was a vicious cycle that was sure to drive her mad.

A jolt of pleasure forced her legs to give out. He must've sensed her impending fall to the floor and mercifully took pity on her. Damn, the man had skills! He didn't even have to stop the blissful torture he was inflicting on her as he pushed her back against the wall and stood, draping her legs over his shoulders. Loki braced his arms on the wall behind her, effectively pinning her between him and the wall.

"Oh God!" Natasha cried out, slamming her eyes shut. One hand grabbed the bed post for leverage; the other cupped the back of his neck, holding him to her. Silver tongue indeed! Loki continued to tease, taste, and nip at her like a man starving to taste her for centuries. His tongue slipped inside her once, twice, slowly swiping up her engorged nub then returning to its place inside her.

"Loki…" Her legs were starting to shake and she squirmed against that beautiful face pressed against her. "Loki, please…" She could feel that sweet, delicious ache building in to an orgasm, yet she couldn't quite get it to crescendo.

Look at me, Little Spider. She ignored the voice in her head. It was right there, Jesus Christ, right there, if only… she felt wetness spill down her cheeks. Look at me! Natasha forced her eyes open at the command screaming in her mind. He captured her clouded-with-tears gaze with his as he continued to fuck her with his tongue. Beg me to let you come. I can go on forever…can you? The dark, mischievous glint was back. He was toying with her, the rat bastard!

"Fuck you," she managed to growl around a sob.

He chuckled against her clit, the hum vibrating right through her very soul. She screamed when he released his hold on her orgasm and it slammed into her. White exploded behind her eyelids, the ache of pleasure washing over her. She jerked against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tugged, pulling his face away from her in an attempt to stop the madness overtaking her.

She barely registered that he had lowered her, freed his always impressive length from his pants, and wrapped her legs around his waist. She was still coming down from what was quite possibly the most intense and awesome orgasm in her life, when he entered her. She gasped at his sudden intrusion, feeling impossibly full, filling her.

"So tight, my spider…" Loki groaned in the crook of her neck, pistoning his hips in a frantic pace. His perfect talent of hitting her perfect little spot near her womb kept her perfect orgasm going each time he slammed into her.

She didn't care if the walls were paper thin and everyone could hear her screams , she didn't want him to stop.

This was why enemies were lovers and she could give a flying fuck if that was wrong.

He stilled suddenly, a foreign curse escaping his lips on a whine. She felt him explode inside her, his cock twitching. Her walls pulsated around him, milking him dry. Finally spent, his breathing matched her own: heavy and ragged. She grinned, once again marveling in the idea that even a god from another world didn't have unending stamina.

She nipped his shoulder when the ache from her legs being stretched far and wide for too long began to bother her. He titled his head back and she dropped her legs from his waist, wondering if she even had the strength to stand.

She would have dropped to the floor if he hadn't caught her. No words were exchanged as he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other under her legs, draping them over his forearm. She folded her arms behind his neck, leaning hear head onto his shoulder. He carried them into the adjoining, private bathroom. In it sat a nice, large Jacuzzi tub, big enough for the two of them. She sighed, seeing the tub faucet turn on with the help of a little Asgardian magic and bubbles suddenly appearing in the tub. Candles also appeared and lit, while the light level in the room lowered to a pleasing ambiance.

Magic clearly had its uses.

Knowing she was about to enjoy an entirely different kind of bliss, she smiled. A hot bath, lots of bubbles (never mind a gorgeous man in the midst of a mountain of bubbles) and perhaps a little wine—two flutes and a bottle of Castello del Poggio Moscato d'Asti (cheap, but her favorite sweet wine) appeared on the side of the tub.

He put her down and she waited, allowing him to fully undress her. As she slipped into the hot water, the velvety steam and pearly bubbles sliding over her skin, a random thought occurred to her.

Just when had he acquired the ability to read minds? And what other new talents did he have?

# # #

She was super relaxed… no, she was uber relaxed. Sated and warm in chest-deep bubbles, with gentle long fingers rubbing her temples, she could have fallen asleep and woken tomorrow without a care in the world. Yet despite that, a question nagged at her serenity.

"Loki. What are we doing?" She asked, sitting up from her prone position against his chest. She turned to face him and found one of his perfectly tweezed eyebrows arched in confusion.

"Is this not called a bath? It is on Asgard."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it." Water splashed on his chest, droplets dripping from her hand as she waved it between the two of them. "I mean this. Us. We are enemies."

"And what, exactly, defines us as enemies?"

"You tried to conquer our planet," she pointed out. "And—"

"Under duress, Natasha." A tinge of sadness and regret seeped into his voice. There was something about the way he said her name—not Agent Romanov—that pulled at her heart.

He looked away from her, pink tingeing his cheeks. "I'm not evil. I never was."

She agreed, because she never thought he was in the first place. They both had abandonment issues and finding out that you were kidnapped as a child and then lied to was enough to make anyone temporarily batshit cray-cray.

Finding out you were being controlled and manipulated by Thanos, the universe's ultimate bad guy, was enough to make insanity permanent.

Instead, he went ape shit on the purple-skinned bastard and, with a little help of the Avengers, won in a glorious battle that would go down in history.

"And I don't kick puppies, despite what you all may think. Actually, I'm rather fond of them. Kittens, especially," he muttered, poking a stray bubble with his index finger and sounding like a petulant five year old whose toy had just been taken away from him. But it was Stark's comment to her a week ago about how Loki probably liked to kick puppies when he wasn't inducing disharmony that made her smile. Oh, do walls have ears.

"Are you saying we aren't enemies then?" she asked, careful to gauge his reaction.

"It is my…," he paused, choking out his next word, "All-Father given gift to create chaos. I can't change that, even if I wanted to. Everyone, all creatures, need to have a little mischief in their life."

She could agree with that. "And you are very talented with your gift, Loki."

"I, too, have red in my ledger that I want to wipe clean," he continued, as if he didn't hear her. He cupped her face then, his palms warm against her skin. "I am glad it began with you."

She chuckled. Ok, so not a supervillain anymore. Right. "You could have started with Thor. He thinks you hate him."

He dropped his hands and shook his head, annoyance crossing his beautiful, flawless face. "Thor needs to realize that centuries of being best friends and brothers is not easily forgotten. He always was obtuse."

She arched an eyebrow. "You tried to kill him, remember? And an entire race of people, and that was before Thanos got a hold of you."

"And yet I did little to persuade you into letting me come to your bed."

Touché.

"I didn't want him dead, I simply asked the Destroyer to make sure he never returned. I was…distraught at learning of my true origins. As King, I was thinking of protecting my people."

Oh, really? That was his reason behind trying to commit genocide?

He smirked and she knew he had read her mind again. "I am trying to make amends, Natasha."

"So says the God of Lies…"

He threw back his head, his laugh hearty and rich as it reverberated off the bathroom walls. "I only deceive when I have reason to, and I have no desire to give you a falsehood."

Before she could ask why that was, he answered for her, "You've never lied to me. Honesty begets honesty if you are true."

She was slightly offended and she scooted away from him. She was a master manipulator and that included telling lies. "How would you know that I've never lied to you? I'm a spy, I—"

"Because aside from being recently gifted with the talent of reading your wicked thoughts, my dear," he grabbed her arm and jerked her to him, water sloshing over the tub in the process. "I was also gifted the ability to know when one is deceiving me and has deceived me in the past. It certainly makes conversations interesting. Like this one," he added as forethought.

He pulled her onto his lap and tried to kiss her, but she pulled her head away. Alright, fine. So, she had never lied to him, but she wanted to test his new talents. "Do you love Thor?" she whispered, pursing her lips next to his ear.

She felt him jerk under her. "I do not wish to talk about my brother."

"Too bad. Answer the question or this will go no further." Her tongue followed the path of his earlobe, and she felt him shudder under her. Call me a liar…

He sighed, knowing she would make good on her threat to leave him sexually frustrated. "I thought you said love was for children."

"Perhaps. But we are all someone's child, whether we like it or not. Even monsters have parents," she whispered.

Loki shoved her away from him, his hands on her shoulders. His sneer was dark and so were the storm clouds brewing behind his red-tinged eyes. The air had suddenly turned so cold, she could see her breath. She shivered as the water temperature also started to drop. Perhaps she had made a mistake in teasing him and she wondered if perhaps now was a good time to cut off the conversation with a former supervillain and go back to her not-so-normal life.

She pushed his hands away and grasped the edge of the tub, intending to stand, but damn, he was fast. He jerked her to him, her back hitting his chest, water and bubbles splashing everywhere. His grip on the backs of her thighs was somewhat painful as he spread her legs. She moaned as he entered, an icy hardness filling her.

She arched against him when a cold, blue hand delicately scarred with grooves and symbols, cupped her breast and toyed with her hardened nipples. The other wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. His nails scraped against her clit beneath the water as he pumped inside of her. His tongue, surprisingly warm, teased her ear.

HolyshitohmyGod! Tingles swam in her lower belly. His sudden aggression, revealing his true form and then fucking her—she was either going to go insane or pass out from the overwhelming burn in her womb.

"Yes, I am a monster," he growled in her ear. He cupped her jaw, turning her mouth to meet his lips. "Do you like me this way?"

She didn't even have to open her eyes to know she'd like what she would see. "Yes," she whispered, then gasped as a spike of pleasure raced up her spine. He shoved his tongue into her mouth and she fought him with hers. Water continued to seep out of the tub as he pounded her from behind.

"Have you grown to love me, little spider?"

Aww, fuck you! Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou! That wasn't fair! He had manipulated her and she knew that if she told a lie now, not only would he know it, but it would be the ultimate betrayal. And probably a really bad idea, given she was being fucked mercilessly by a Frost Giant.

"Do you?"

She wanted to scream in denial.

"Answer me!" he snarled in desperation against her swollen lips.

Fuck it. "Yes."

He shouted against her lips, his seed spilling into her. Hearing his continuing cries of pleasure from his release brought her own orgasm crashing in on her and she felt herself squeeze and tighten against him.

Limp. She went completely limp against his chest. It was pathetic, unbecoming of a spy, and she didn't give a rats ass.

And that was the last thing she remembered until she woke up wrapped in a tangle of silky sheets and Loki's embrace. He was softly snoring in her ear and she felt the corners of her mouth curve upward.

All other times they had engaged as lovers, he had left immediately afterwards. Gracious enough to give her pleasure, yet his departure had always stung a tiny part of her. She hadn't been sure why until tonight, after her little, universe-shattering confession.

Perhaps that was why he had stayed this time?

She gently untangled herself, careful not to wake the sleeping god cuddling her—and really, who thought he would cuddle—and made her way to the bathroom. Even in the dark—who knew what time it was—she noted the bathroom was in perfect, clean condition. Must be nice to have magic at your beck and call, she mused as she relieved her bladder.

She tiptoed back into the bedroom, but stopped short and gasped at the eery blue-green eyes staring at her from within the dark. Moonlight filtering in through the window only enhanced his predatory gaze.

"Loki, that's creepy…" she said aloud and was gifted with a chuckle in response.

Before she knew it, she he had tossed her onto her back on the bed and was hovering over her. No words were exchanged as she held his gaze, finding a hint of doubt gather in his eyes and his elegant features scrunched into a look that could only be described as adorable. This was an unknown part of him, precious and exposed just now, that was open to her. Perhaps he thought she would take advantage of it and hurt him, deceive him? Did he actually have uncertainty somewhere in the back of his mind of her true feelings despite wholeheartedly knowing she had spoken no lies?

Feeling him hard against her belly, she wrapped her hand around his length and gently guided him into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and licked his Adam's Apple when he threw his head back and gasped.

She locked her ankles and shifted her hips, encouraging him to go deeper. Before, sex with Loki had always been swift and sure, to the point. Frantic, even. But this time? It would be lovemaking in its truest sense, for she had confessed a secret that was going to get her into bigger trouble than anything else and he hadn't abandoned her. She was going to make sure this time was slow and gentle.

And it was. The third time they made love that night, he whispered foreign, exotic words and phrases into her ear as he slowly brought her to heaven.

The sky had opened up and was raining when she had woken him for the fourth round. She demanded he turn into his true Jotun form or else. She had no idea what possessed her to ask such a daring thing and he looked like a deer in headlights before shaking his head. She simply said "Please…" and waited, straddling him, until he acquiesced.

She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life and he was in such a vulnerable state. She proved it by kissing the symbol on his forehead and tracing each line grooved into his skin with her fingertips and tongue. His short breaths and shudders were music to her ears around the booming thunder.

She made it to his abs before he flipped her with a growl onto her stomach. He pushed her head down onto the pillow and pulled her ass into the air. Her throaty moan was muffled as he shoved himself into her. He held her hands together behind her in one of his own and remained in his exotic, alien form the entire time he pounded into her.

By dawn—and the fifth time, she cowgirled him—she was certain neither of them would be able to walk for weeks.

She sleepily winked open her eyes, horrified that sunshine would dare intrude on her late-found slumber.

"Unfortunately, I am unable to keep the sun from shining and disturbing your rest."

He was entirely too cheery and, God damn, his grin was just too much first thing in the morning. She sat up and immediately regretted it. The achey-soreness between her legs was ridiculous and glorious at the same time. She'd never had that much sex before in her life and especially not with a well-endowed alien. She yawned and stretched, holding the sheet to her chest. She was half-tempted to let it fall to her waist, just to see what he would do.

"You do that, and I fear I will cripple you," Loki smirked. He was dressed in the familiar black and green Asgardian garb he usually wore. It was intricate and beautiful, but it looked like an Olympic sport just to put the articles of clothing on.

He sat on the bed and pulled a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I must leave you now."

Damn, she pouted. She wasn't quite ready to let him leave. She probably looked like a freak show with her hair in complete disarray and bags under her eyes. Vile morning breath, too. Ugh, why'd he have to look so perfect in the morning?

"Because I'm a god."

She slapped his forearm, her hand hitting metal and she winced at the sting tickling her fingers. "Asshole."

There was that devious grin again. "It matters not what you think you look like. Know that you are a Queen in my eyes and one day I will make you one."

Well okay then. She rocked bed head, then. "Where are you going?" Crap, her I'm-a-badass-spy talent was on epic fail mode this morning. She sounded weepy. What the fuck was wrong with her?

She needed coffee and lots of it.

"Another realm has requested my help. My unique talents will aid them and," he paused, looking somewhere over and above her right shoulder. He hummed and his grin widened. "I truly wish to offer my assistance." He sounded proud, like realization had just dawned on him and damnit, she was proud, too, for his newly found goodness.

He cupped his hand behind her neck and pulled her forward. Her eyes fluttered closed, expecting a kiss on the lips from him, but instead he touched her forehead gently with his mouth.

"As you gave me a wondrous gift last night, I have given you one as well. Something very rare. Treasure, but do not spoil it," he spoke softly, pulling back. There was a glint in his eyes, like he was up to something and she wondered if she should ferret out what it was. "You will know soon enough, my little spider."

He stood and turned his back to her. She was momentarily blinded by a white light enveloping him as additional pieces of armor were added to his Asgardian garb. Gold vambraces on his forearms and chest pieces appeared, as did his signature horned helmet.

Before he could vanish, wink out, or whatever he did to suddenly appear and disappear, she caught his attention: "Loki, why did Tony owe you a favor? What did you do?"

Well, she meant to say goodbye and ask when she would see him again, but inquiring minds wanted to know. She also wanted ammo against Stark, because reasons…

Loki had indeed infected her mind with mischievousness.

He turned his head to the side to answer her. "As I am your Asgardian pain in the ass, you are my Avengers. No one is allowed to kill any of you without my permission. I disagreed with Thanos's decision to rip out Stark's source of power and life."

Loki had saved Tony's life? Huh. She'd never let him live that down, now that she knew.

A staff appeared in his right hand. A different kind of sceptor than the Glowstick of Destiny, but menacing all the same. She was left to wonder in silence where he got it as he disappeared right before her eyes.

She sighed. She was once again alone in the tiny room she had rented in the bed and breakfast. Last night was a perfect evening of dancing, sex, bathing, a little wine, sex, confessions of the soul, and more sex. But, today was a new day and it would be a great one. Back to work as a spy, protecting the masses, and babysitting a bunch of testosterone-filled superheroes.

As she stood up and wobbled on shaky legs, two questions popped into her mind: what exactly was the gift Loki proclaimed to have given her?

And should she be worried?