AN: Hello, and welcome to my smutty and shameless fanfiction. With All Vice Tainted was completed in March 2013, but as some of my readers already know, I am in the process of re-writing it for the sequel. On the 2nd October 2013, I deleted the remaining unedited chapters, so that everything I posted would be here, on the original document. I am also posting this story to Archive of Our Own, so if that is your preferred fanfiction archive, you can see it there too.
Disclaimers: I do not own anything from the Marvel Movie-verse, but I do own Alexandra Beckett. I feel rather sorry for her. Being a creature of my creation is a truly terrifying thing. Also, this fic is heavy on the smut, so if this is not your cup of tea, please leave now. I do not tolerate flaming of any kind. Hope you enjoy :D
Be Careful What You Wish For
Alexandra Beckett would never have guessed that the Rainbow Bridge of legend would be so monumentally beautiful in reality. Beneath its transparent surface, rivulets of light danced, illuminating her boots in a riot of colour. A curious smile tilting her lips, she crouched so that her fingers could brush the hard, incomprehensible surface. Was it glass? Was it crystal? Was it a substance she did not even know existed? She suspected she would never find out. After all, the residents of Asgard seemed preoccupied with the myth, the memory of what they were and the knowledge that they would remain great. The practical nature of their existence, the physical form of the environment that surrounded them, seemed to invite little discussion.
Beneath her fingertips, the bridge seemed to breathe, a steady thrumming. Its presence was relaxing, almost familiar in this vastly alien place. Not that she would have given up her assignment to Asgard for anything. It was just that sometimes the sheer intensity of it was a little... daunting.
Drawn by the thrumming, she drew her body flat against the cool surface. The pulse caressed her body, rhythmically tuning to her own heartbeat. Miles below, waves crashed against the monolithic sea cliffs that circled the realm of Asgard.
"You should not be here alone, mortal."
The cold words folded around her, wrenching her body and soul from the comforting embrace of the Rainbow Bridge. A different sensation plagued her now, one that she did not wish to acknowledge; one that culminated between her thighs.
"I am not alone, Loki. Heimdall is watching."
Sliding her bare arm across the bridge, she pointed forward. Sure enough, far in the distance a flash of the gold-clad watchman could be seen.
"And Heimdall would continue to watch as you slip off this bridge and fall to your death, Agent Beckett."
Agent Beckett, well that was better than mortal at least. "I'm not sure whether to take that as a threat, or well-cloaked concern for my well-being?"
"Neither," the prince replied, voice still cold. "It was a statement of fact."
Alex moved onto her back, observing the intruder, well aware that her Asgardian nightdress was a little on the sheer side. It was not as if she had expected company. Besides, the prince had no doubt seen many naked women in his time – and horses, if the legends were to be believed. Not that she was naked.
"I was under the impression that you were supposed to be serving some kind of punishment. Where are the stitches?"
Flinching, Loki ran long fingers over his lips. "You know full well that to wear the stitches now would undermine Odin's goal. What is the point of humiliating me if there is no one to see my shame?"
Of course she knew this, but Loki's night-bound freedom was something that brought Alex more than a little apprehension. The residents of Asgard were forbidden from paying the prince any heed during his nightly wanderings. The stitches were gone, but he became invisible in the eyes of the Aesir. Alex suspected she should do the same, yet the consequences of her ignoring him terrified her. Hardly surprising considering he had tried to enslave her race, killing off all those that got in his way. As a member of S.H.I.E.L.D she was no doubt high on his hit-list. In fact, as one of the agents in charge of his interrogation she probably made the top ten. Not that he had taken her questions seriously. He saw her as Director Fury's attempt to drill him for information using a "pretty face and a nice arse". His terminology had initially shocked Alex, but then again, he did call Natasha Romanoff a "mewling quim", so she suspected his propensity for unexpected crassness was high.
While her inner feminist had been infuriated by this comment, Alex had also felt a little ecstatic that he thought her pretty, or that her posterior was worth ogling. Yes, he was a psychopath with a high body count and a superiority complex, but he was also a fine looking man. Ridiculously fine looking.
It was only now, with all the world issues sorted out and Loki safely imprisoned in Asgard, that Alex had come to discover something else about the prince. True enough, he was still psychotic and it did not seem as if he was too remorseful about his attempts to enslave the human race. Yet, one thing was obvious: he loved his family. Perhaps not Odin, hell, Alex could understand that. But Loki definitely loved his mother and obviously Thor too. It was also clear that he was resigned to his fate, almost willing to undergo the punishment.
It was this tiny inclination that Loki was something more than a brutal killer that made Alex sure that he would not push her from the bridge. That, and the fact that his startling pale emerald eyes were attuned to her chest. She guessed her breasts were somewhat exposed in the nightdress, but still, an immortal prince should not be a pervert. That went against everything Disney had told her about princes.
But then, Prince Philip did not murder eighty people with his own hands.
Prince Eric did not try to enslave the human race.
"Enjoying the view?"
The green eyes did not move away, his thin lips curling into a smirk. How did that normally sweet, handsome face contort into such demonic expressions of deviousness?
The real question was: why did she covet his gaze at all?
"I suggest you remove yourself from this bridge, Agent Beckett. You have given Heimdall quite enough entertainment for the evening."
She snorted, somewhat unflatteringly. "Heimdall is not the pervert around here."
Nevertheless, she fitted her fingers within his outstretched hand, allowing him to aid her rising. As her booted feet steadied on the bridge, his hand shot away as though burned. Alex frowned. Clearly he thought her touch as appealing as sticking one's arm in a septic tank.
Their journey to the citadel was swathed in silence. The only sounds that met their ears were the distant surging of water, the light trickle of nocturnal birdsong and, strangely, the eerie notes of a lone flutist. The palace itself, a shimmering organ of gold, was as silent as the world that surrounded it. A few guards patrolled, but they did not take notice of the prisoner and mortal in their wake.
By the time they reached her chambers, the silence was suffocating. His proximity had already rendered Alex's body a quivering mess, which only added to the awkwardness of the situation.
Upon opening the door to her chambers, Alex was pleased to find the single lantern still burning, albeit dully, in the hanging. Loki followed her into the cavernous space, closing the door behind him.
"Um, have you forgotten where your cell is?"
The expression upon Loki's pale face was unreadable. His eyes, however, were like an open book. Within seconds, her already weak limbs turned liquid and her heart drummed a feisty tattoo against her ribs.
The following events came forth with such unexpected force, that Alex was entirely unsure as to when her back met the rough spear of wall between the two monolithic windows. Fingers that were not her own brushed against her thighs, drawing up the flimsy skirt of her nightdress. His slim, athletic figure pressed against hers, the sharp edges of his light armour bruising tender skin. Cold eyes locked into her storm grey ones momentarily before all eye contact was broken by the kiss.
Oh, the kiss. It was the kind of kiss she had only read about in erotic romance novels, but never actually experienced in reality. Skilled lips danced upon her own, firm and soft in equal measure. His tongue probed her mouth, demanding entry which she willingly gave. While her own fingers curled in his hair, his seemed to be continuing their mission with her dress. Oh God, why hadn't she worn underwear? What kind of whore walks around in a sheer nighty without underwear? Her internal scolding fell on deaf internal ears as his forceful hands drew her legs up around his waist, eventually resting on the previously admired posterior. Pressed so close she could feel his erection even through his thick pants. Why did he have to wear so much armour? She wanted him naked, on top of her, inside her.
Or did she?
She was being paid to observe Loki's punishment, not to spread her legs for him. She might not particularly like Director Fury, but it was flattering that he had enough confidence in her abilities to assign her such an important job.
Loki's fingers were now dancing across her thigh again, drawing up to the apex between her legs. His thumb slowly slipped within her slit...
No! This wasn't right! This was unprofessional. She would not be compromised.
"Loki!" she hissed against his lips, fingers tightening in his raven locks. A moan issued from her throat as he inserted his middle and index finger inside her. The pad of his thumb continued the relentless assault upon her clit. His expert lips and tongue left her mouth, brushing instead against the ivory flesh of her neck. Teeth scored her, eliciting a burning pain, yet all she could do was groan.
His hand still doing unspeakable things to her nether regions, the god of mischief looked up, eyes dominating her own. "Tell me what you want, Agent Beckett."
"I want you to go."
A light, terrifying chuckle left his lips. "You lie. Tell me what you really want."
She bit her lip, a strangely innocent act considering she was being pleasured by a megalomaniac. "I want you inside me." The moment the words left her lips she blushed. Did people really say that outside of romance novels?
"Is that so?"
The incessant ministrations of his fingers caused her to mewl pathetically. She mewled even more pathetically when he pulled away. She was so close! So very, very close!
"Be careful what you wish for, Alexandra." His voice caressed her, far more so than his hands. With a great deal of pain, not to mention damage to the belongings on her desk, she was unceremoniously thrust upon the hard slab of wood. Hands wrenched her thighs apart forcefully, his hungry eyes upon her exposed flesh. With an ear piercing rip, the nightdress hiding the last vestiges of her modesty was torn from her skin, leaving her breasts open to the ravages of his mouth.
"Perfect," he murmured, struggling with the ties to his pants. She tried to help, only to have her fingers slapped away with a snarl. Before she could catch a glimpse of whatever weaponry he was wielding, his lips enveloped hers once more. The head of his erection brushed against the aching flesh of her sex, before he slowly pushed within.
His demand was somewhat odd, and despite the exquisite delight of his presence within her, she found herself cocking an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly – ah! – the screaming type."
A malicious smile swept over his lips. "I want to hear you scream as you come."
He was all thrusting, each plunge reaching an entirely new depth. Obscenities blended with blasphemies poured from her lips.
The two syllables echoed around the chamber as she rode on the aftermath of her orgasm. Several thrusts later, his own climax came, his exultation moaned into her neck. Almost instantly, he pulled away, tying up his pants and swooping toward the door.
"Until tomorrow night, Agent Beckett."