She sees that smile, somehow, through the haze of lust that almost clouds her sight, and lets out a whine at the back of her throat. She can't tell if he's being smug or simply pleased to hear that uninhibited declaration, but whatever it is, the effects are delicious - for her. He's found her clit, finally, and she soars a little with the first few licks. Her head falls back against the wall, her grip in his hair steadies, and she closes her eyes to surrender to the sensations.

"Yes - oh - don't stop..." There's another string of curses, in as many creative languages as she knows - she even manages the equivalent of oh fuck me that's nice in Jotnnar, because why wouldn't she have picked that one up from him so far?

But she doesn't ask for more than he's looking to give her. Even if, were he to slide his fingers inside her cunt right now, she'd melt them with how hot and tight she is. Even if she wants to leave him as claimed and marked as he is leaving her.

(Imagine, later, her legs will tremble as she gingerly sits down on the chair next to his at the negotiation table, heat like a noose around her neck, and Loki's smug smile not betraying how his face smells like he's had it buried between her legs.)

For now, she'll take. Get taken. Stand half-naked above him and beg with impatient little gasps and moans.