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Two completely opposite people obviously shared your suite in Stark Tower.
The juxtaposition between your side of the closet and Loki’s was telling of how very different you were in almost all aspects of life. His, full to the brim with designer labels and expensive materials that made you want to weep for their quality, and yours with your standard fare, an amalgamation of pieces picked up from various shopping malls and department stores over the years, varying in taste and quality. Sure, Loki had gifted you extremely nice clothing over the course of your relationship, but those were separated from the rest, as if they would lose their value if they rubbed up against your mismatched wardrobe.
Fingering the edge of your soft bathrobe, you frowned, your head listing to the side as you tried to find an outfit for dinner that evening. It was one of those days where you didn’t feel particularly enthused about your wardrobe or yourself, imagining that every shirt, skirt, or possible outfit would pick up on your flaws and shout them out to the world. You stifled a low groan of frustration behind your bottom lip captured between your teeth, lifting the hem of your robe just enough to follow one of the many jagged purple lines that marred the tops of your thighs and the bottom of your soft tummy. If only…
“Almost prepared for dinner, sweetli- what are you doing?” Loki strolled into the walk-in closet behind you in a cloud of dark, masculine cologne, cutting off his question and changing it when you quickly ripped your hand from your thigh and crossed your arms over your chest.
“It’s nothing. Nothing. I’m just trying to decide what to wear,” you stammered quickly, avoiding his gaze by darting your eyes across the selection of shoes scattered across the far wall beside a full-length mirror that did nothing to hide your sudden panic.
He approached you slowly, brow quirked in curious confusion. When you didn’t meet his gaze for longer than a split second he came around to face you, lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger so that you had no choice but to look at him. “What is troubling you?”
“Nothing-”
“Do not lie to me,” he chided you, quietly, without any real malice behind the words. He sank down on one knee before you, hands sliding up your bare legs to peer closely at the bit of skin you had been glaring at distastefully when he had interrupted you. His fingertips traced the channels etched into your skin from rapid growth, weight loss, being human, etc. gently. “I do not see any injuries. Are you hurt?”
Just your pride. You wanted to die from shame at his close examination of such physical imperfections. It was already a startling sight to see your prideful prince kneeling before you, but to have him inches away from your most-loathed aspect about yourself was almost too much. Your hands dug into the hem of the robe. “No, I’m not hurt. Can you please get up and stop looking at those?”
“At your shapely legs? At the soft curves that drive me mad with yearning whenever I catch a glimpse of them?” he asked with complete earnestness.
You tried to step away from him, but his grip tightened that much more, not to the point of pain, but enough to show his displeasure at your attempted retreat. Knowing he wouldn’t leave without getting to the heart of the issue, he was the most stubborn and determined man you had ever known, your shoulders fell just as your heart did into the pit of your stomach. “I was looking at my stretch marks.”
It was obvious from your tone and the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes how you felt about them. His eyes tightened slightly. The intensity in them sent a shiver down your spine. “And?”
A tear slipped down your cheek and you hastily wiped it away, shame coursing through your body on boiling blood that rushed in your ears. “I hate them, okay? I hate you looking at them so closely. They’re ugly.”
“Stop it,” he commanded firmly, his voice at odds with the absolute devastation and love warring on his face.
His eyes didn’t allow you to look away for how ardently they stared into yours. With slow, sure movements, his hands reached up to untie the belt of the robe, opening it up so that he could fully bare your body to him save for your bra and panties. He dropped his arresting stare to take you in, his calloused hands following his eyes as he smoothed his hands over your skin. It was such an intimate act, his perusal of your body, carefully touching and committing to memory each sign of what you perceived to be as a failure.
“You are exquisite,” he breathed, the words spoken to your stomach just inches away from his lips. When you opened your mouth to reply, he shook his head, pressing a kiss to the soft skin beneath your belly button before continuing on, “I adore and cherish you, and this body. It was unprepared for the greatness of your spirit, and these lines etched into your skin are simply the result. It is a vessel to hold the one that I love, and to allow you to love me in return.”
His hands ghosted up your sides to grasp onto the pliant flesh of your hips, and he stood, towering over you so that your eyes which had lifted to the ceiling to try to stop your blubbering landed on his breathtakingly beautiful face once more. “Your body is soft, warm and comforting, perfectly suited to press into and mold to the hard lines of my own. I relish the feeling of your curves against my skin when we fall asleep, or when we sit together on the couch. It was as if you were made to me, to provide a safe haven from my stresses in your supple skin.”
He left you facing the mirror, robe still open as he quickly gathered a shopping bag from his side of the closet. When he returned he pulled something out of it, a flash of black and green visible before his hands lifted over your head and his body shielded you from the harsh reflection you loathed once again.
“Lift your arms, beautiful.”
Puzzled, you did as he instructed, closing your eyes once silken material obscured your vision. The fabric flowed over your body, as soft as butterfly’s wings against your skin as Loki zipped up the back of the dress. His fingers encircled your wrists and lowered them to your sides before he let his hands rest heavily on your shoulders.
“I had been saving this for a special occasion, but there is no event more important than proving to you to just how stunning you are to me. Now, see yourself through my eyes.”
The dress was gorgeous, clearly meant to flatter your shape with black lace overlaid over dark green fabric. Golden threads interspersed throughout the material to give it a subtle shimmer as you twisted this way and that to inspect it. His thumbs brushed over the wide neckline of the dress, wide to expose more of your skin to his searing touch. Your hands brushed over your ribs before spreading protectively over your stomach, not wanting the mere fact that it wasn’t perfectly flat and toned to ruin the otherwise lovely picture that you and Loki presented.
“Ah-ah,” he corrected you, leaning forward so your back was pressed to his front, lacing your fingers together. He pushed your hands further into your stomach to hold you against him, allowing the heat that radiated from his body to tease loose some of the tension in your muscles. He bent to smooth his cheek over yours after brushing his lips against the top of your head. “You are ravishing, dearest, and I would have you now in this closet were it not for our dinner reservation.”
You flushed, heat blooming in your cheeks as you dropped your eyes to the ground to hide your sudden shyness at his bold flirting. “Loki…”
“I do love it when you blush. It brings out the warmth in your eyes. How they sparkle like the very stars in the night sky.” He pulled away, grabbing your favorite pair of shoes and holding them out for you. “And it reminds me of how tempting you look when that same flush spreads over the rest of your skin, spread out before me to feast upon in our bed… But first, let us find some nourishment for that precious body.”
Later, when he had plied you with enough food and drink to leave you sated and sleepy, you both rested on the couch with his head in your lap. You enjoyed combing your fingers through his long silken locks of raven hair, and he hummed contentedly when your nails scratched gently at his scalp.
He rolled over beneath your touch, wrapping his arms around your back to nuzzle his face into your belly. You froze for a breath, embarrassment clenching your body in its vice-like grip, but his hands rubbed around your spine in slow circles that eased you back into calm, languid serenity soon enough.
And then he shifted, releasing his grasp on you to lift up your shirt just enough to kiss where his nose had nudged into you just moments ago. His fingers teasing at your sides tickled, and you pushed at him weakly, biting back a smile.
“That tickles!” you protested, a bit of laughter escaping through with the words.
“Oh? You mean this?” he asked, glancing up at you for the briefest of moments, mischief written plainly across his face, before he sat up on his knees and his fingers danced across your ribs and tummy.
You wiggled beneath him, laughing and giggling and shrieking as you fought against his merciless onslaught. Tears poured down your face and your cheeks hurt from laughing when you finally managed to choke out, “Enough! You win!”
With a swift and efficient tug, he stretched you out beneath him on the couch and draped his body over yours, holding his weight on his knees and one hand. The other caressed your cheek before he left the faintest of kisses on your eyelids, your forehead, over the sting in your cheeks before capturing your mouth in a thorough, passionate kiss that curled your toes and stopped your heart in your chest.
Your fingers tangled in his hair of their own accord, and you didn’t relinquish their grip when he lifted his face from yours to shoot you a smile that made your heart ache for the love it contained. “You are absolutely resplendent, sweetling, when you blush. Now, explain to me once more why I should have any sort of opinion about these people baking in an oversized tent?”
He settled over you with his head pillowed on your stomach, listening to you defend and explain one of your favorite shows for what wouldn’t be the last time. But it was alright with you, as long as you got to hold each other while you did so.