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It’s only about three minutes, perhaps, before Mobius feels the boneless softness drain out of Loki’s body, pressed up against him. He feels Loki’s face drag away from where it had been pressed against his collarbone, feels the cool absence when Loki’s body peels reluctantly away from him – and yeah, that’s not right, something’s wrong for sure. A minute earlier Loki had been wrapped around him like a particularly clingy vine, and now he’s pulling away.
‘Okay, hang on, Loki,’ he says quietly. ‘Where’re you off to?’
Loki goes still for a long moment. It’s dark, but Mobius can hear the sound of him swallowing in his throat before he speaks. ‘Just – taking my leave,’ he says eventually, his voice light.
Too light, Mobius thinks, and yeah, he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what’s going on here.
‘“Taking your leave,” huh,’ he says, keeping his voice low and gentle, like speaking to an animal running scared. He can feel the quivering tension in Loki’s body next to him, a bird poised on the verge of flight, and he doesn’t move. Not yet.
‘I – yes,’ Loki says stiffly. ‘Simply saving us both from the necessity for an awkward – post-coital discussion of boundaries. I thought you might appreciate it,’ and he sounds so hollow about it, so resigned, that Mobius has to let out a quiet laugh.
‘Always with the big words, huh,’ he says, fond, and then puts out a placating hand when he feels Loki tense up. It lands, soft, on the delicate skin of Loki’s wrist, and he thumbs it gently, feeling Loki’s racing pulse trapped beneath the skin. ‘Hey, hey – Loki. It’s okay. Breathe.’
‘I am breathing,’ Loki says with dignity. ‘I’m breathing, and I – ’ He cuts himself off, bites the words to a halt.
‘Yeah?’ Mobius prods. ‘You what?’ He sweeps his thumb across Loki’s pulse again, back and forth.
Loki takes a deep breath. ‘I’m fine,’ he says.
‘Sure you are,’ Mobius says.
‘I am!’
‘I know,’ Mobius says. ‘Do you want to leave?’
There’s a quick sharp intake of breath as Loki goes still, like a kid caught doing something bad, his body ceasing all motion. Mobius gives him a moment, but Loki stays frozen, so he strokes his wrist again and goes on talking. ‘Cause I don’t want you to leave. Unless you want to, of course, but, Loki – I don’t think you do. What do you think?’
‘I – ’ Loki says, and his breath shudders. Mobius waits. ‘I don’t understand,’ Loki says at last, sounding lost. ‘What was this for? What do you want from me?’
‘What do I – Loki,’ Mobius says, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘What do I want from you, really? Loki, do I seem like the kind of person who goes in for one night stands to you?’
He senses Loki prickling. ‘How could I possibly know whether you are or aren’t,’ he says defensively. He yanks his wrist out of Mobius’s light hold in a spiteful little movement, and Mobius sighs.
‘I’m not,’ he says, and then, because Loki seems to need this spelled out directly, ‘Loki, I like you.’
There’s a long pause.
‘You…’ Loki says eventually, ‘you – oh.’ He sounds a little stunned. He’s not touching Mobius yet, but Mobius can almost feel him warily softening.
‘Yeah,’ he says patiently. ‘Now can you just – come on. Get back in here.’
He opens his arm and waits. One second, two, then three, and Loki lets out a long breath, and then he’s slotting up against Mobius again. Mobius scritches soothing fingers against his back and feels the exact moment that Loki melts back against him.
‘You like me,’ Loki says, a few minutes later. ‘You really showed your hand there, you know. Quite embarrassing for you, really.’ His tone would be a lot more irritating if he didn’t sound so delightedly pleased with himself, and if he didn’t have his long fingers tangled in Mobius’s own, his head tucked into Mobius’s shoulder.
‘Uh-huh,’ Mobius says indulgently. ‘Real embarrassing.’ He turns his head by a few degrees, enough to drop an easy kiss against Loki’s hairline.
‘Are you mocking me?’ Loki says, indignant, and Mobius chuckles into his hair.
‘Nah,’ he says. ‘Just glad you’re here, sweetheart.’ As he’d expected, Loki seems to almost physically bask in the endearment, and Mobius runs his fingers up and down his back. ‘Go to sleep, Loki. We’ll both be here in the morning, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Loki says, almost meek, and Mobius can feel his smile against the skin of his neck.
Loki wakes up warm.
He never wakes up warm, which is what makes him jolt a little in shock as he becomes aware of it. His nature is cold, ice, but that doesn't mean he doesn't crave warmth, connection, the touch of another person; it has happened so rarely, though.
This time, he wakes up warm. Warm, and content, and with his head curled comfortably onto a surface that rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and he jumps with the shock of it.
'Hey, hey,' someone says. 'You're okay, Loki,' and it all comes rushing back, the newness and joy and sheer terror of it, butterflies gently swarming in his chest. He shifts his head, blinking up at Mobius's face.
'Good morning,' he says, and it comes out soft and fuzzy, his voice hoarse with sleep. Mobius's arm is - Mobius's arm is wrapped around him, and he's rubbing slow, steady little circles into the small of Loki's back. It feels so good that it's almost frightening, but he doesn't roll over and away.
'Morning, pussycat,' Mobius says, with that undercurrent of teasing amusement he so often has, as though it's a completely ordinary thing to say and not one that makes Loki's entire body flush with a wave of warmth. He drops his face down again, cheeks burning, and feels the gentle reverberation as Mobius chuckles. 'Guess that's what it takes to floor you, huh?' Mobius says, and really -
'Oh, shut up,' Loki mumbles. A line has to be drawn somewhere, or who knows where he'll end up, eating out of Mobius's hands like this, blushing like he's a teenager again when he's flirted with. It's absolutely pathetic, he knows, but somehow he can't quite bring himself to care.
'Okay, I'll shut up,' Mobius says agreeably, and tucks a stray bit of Loki's hair back so he can kiss his ear.
(He does not, in fact, shut up, and Loki doesn't even try to pretend it bothers him.)