“I can see why the Einherjar did not continue the tradition,” Loki comments, her breath puffing warm-cool over the bare skin of Valkyrie’s inner thigh. “The nine rings are to symbolize the Nine Realms?” she asks, as she scrutinizes the twin rows of four small, golden rings on each side of Valkyrie’s labia, crowned by a larger torque-like ring above them threaded horizontally across her clitoral hood. “No, I do not see the runes for all nine of the Realms represented.”
“Originally they were to represent a battle fought bravely on each of the Nine,” Valkyrie says, tilting her head back against the headboard. The ceiling of the refugee ship was bland enough to not bring back unnecessary memories. “But seeing as Bor had already slaughtered Svartalfheim before I was born, by the time I joined the ranks, the rings simply stood for nine great battles fought and valor won. Every Valkyrie was given her first piercing after she finished training and was initiated into the ranks; the rest had to be earned.”
“And the first piercing was Asgard, to rule over the rest,” Loki reasons correctly, voice wry. There’s only a faint rustle of the sheets in warning as Loki scoots closer and takes the first ring between her lips, tugging gently.
“Hey!” Valkyrie protests, as Loki’s clever mouth closes over her clit and sucks, a long, steady pressure that ends with the tip of Loki’s tongue pressing firmly up against the underside of her clitoris, while the ring, trapped somewhere against Loki’s teeth and the roof of her mouth, presses just as firmly down. It makes a deep ache throb higher between her legs, lower than Loki’s mouth, and she hisses in both disappointment and relief when Loki pulls back. “Do you want to hear about this or not?”
“I’ve been tasked with recording and preserving Asgard’s history,” Loki says, peering up at Valkyrie through dark lashes with her best innocent expression. Her hair is loose and mussed about her shoulders, and the way she’s half crouched, half kneeling, fully, gloriously bare between Valkyrie’s spread thighs only makes the ache of arousal increase in intensity. “I must examine it thoroughly from all angles to make an accurate record.”
“Brat,” Valkyrie says almost fondly, tangling a hand loosely through Loki’s hair as the other woman traces around each of the piercings with a curious finger.
“And what is this one?” Loki asks, running a finger lightly over the elaborate scar on her mons, where the two circular scars through which an enchanted rune bar had once been affixed under her skin had been incorporated into the larger rune that now occupies the area. Valkyrie’s hand tightens and twists reflexively in its grip on Loki’s hair, and Loki freezes, startled. Valkyrie yanks her hand away quickly as if burned and grips the sheet instead, looking away.
“That was my wedding band,” she explains gruffly, looking away. “I left the band with her when I burned her body and sent her soul to Valhalla, and carved her name in its place instead.”
“May she rest well, ever glorious,” Loki says softly, and Valkyrie turns back just in time to see Loki dip her head in a respectful bow that reminds Valkyrie that Loki was and still is a Prince of Asgard, that Odin’s younger heirs are surprising in ways different from his first, and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to the scar. Before Valkyrie can manage to find her voice around the lump in her throat again, Loki presses the tip of a finger to one of the rings in her labia instead. “You’ve fought on Jotunheim?”
“Oh. Yes.” Valkyrie might want a subject change as much as Loki does, but Loki is obviously doing a better job at pivoting. And bargaining. A truth offered for a memory gained. “I earned that one in the battle that helped to put Laufey on the throne of Jotunheim, and Odin used that unrequested…aid…to dictate the terms of the relationship between Asgard and Jotunheim for centuries after.”
“Asgard put Laufey on the throne? No wonder there was such resentment later, which likely also led into the last great war. And no wonder this is the first I’ve heard of it, as Asgard would not want to admit the puppet king they had originally installed was now rebelling.” Lokl gives a self-deprecating smile with too much behind it, then sighs and flops down dramatically on the bed. “I tire of history for now.”
“I agree.” Valkyrie reaches out with a foot and prods at Loki’s delightfully perky ass with her toes. “Why don’t you come up here and do something about this like you promised?” she says, gesturing to her own spread legs with a smirk.
“Oh, and what happens if I don’t?” Loki asks, squirming away from her foot.
“I’ll punish you.”
“Ah. And what happens if I do?”
“I’ll punish you thoroughly.”
Loki’s eyes go dark and she shivers in anticipation. “Oh, yes. My mistress.” Quickly, she crawls into position, yanking Valkyrie’s legs over her pale shoulders. Leaning forward, she eagerly greets Valkyrie’s cunt with a messy, open-mouthed kiss, like enthusiastically greeting a returning lover after a long battle, before she turns to using her silver tongue to catch Valkyrie up with what has happened in each of the Nine Realms and beyond since the war.
Re: Valkyrie/any, genital piercings--FILL Valkyrie/f!Loki
“Originally they were to represent a battle fought bravely on each of the Nine,” Valkyrie says, tilting her head back against the headboard. The ceiling of the refugee ship was bland enough to not bring back unnecessary memories. “But seeing as Bor had already slaughtered Svartalfheim before I was born, by the time I joined the ranks, the rings simply stood for nine great battles fought and valor won. Every Valkyrie was given her first piercing after she finished training and was initiated into the ranks; the rest had to be earned.”
“And the first piercing was Asgard, to rule over the rest,” Loki reasons correctly, voice wry. There’s only a faint rustle of the sheets in warning as Loki scoots closer and takes the first ring between her lips, tugging gently.
“Hey!” Valkyrie protests, as Loki’s clever mouth closes over her clit and sucks, a long, steady pressure that ends with the tip of Loki’s tongue pressing firmly up against the underside of her clitoris, while the ring, trapped somewhere against Loki’s teeth and the roof of her mouth, presses just as firmly down. It makes a deep ache throb higher between her legs, lower than Loki’s mouth, and she hisses in both disappointment and relief when Loki pulls back. “Do you want to hear about this or not?”
“I’ve been tasked with recording and preserving Asgard’s history,” Loki says, peering up at Valkyrie through dark lashes with her best innocent expression. Her hair is loose and mussed about her shoulders, and the way she’s half crouched, half kneeling, fully, gloriously bare between Valkyrie’s spread thighs only makes the ache of arousal increase in intensity. “I must examine it thoroughly from all angles to make an accurate record.”
“Brat,” Valkyrie says almost fondly, tangling a hand loosely through Loki’s hair as the other woman traces around each of the piercings with a curious finger.
“And what is this one?” Loki asks, running a finger lightly over the elaborate scar on her mons, where the two circular scars through which an enchanted rune bar had once been affixed under her skin had been incorporated into the larger rune that now occupies the area. Valkyrie’s hand tightens and twists reflexively in its grip on Loki’s hair, and Loki freezes, startled. Valkyrie yanks her hand away quickly as if burned and grips the sheet instead, looking away.
“That was my wedding band,” she explains gruffly, looking away. “I left the band with her when I burned her body and sent her soul to Valhalla, and carved her name in its place instead.”
“May she rest well, ever glorious,” Loki says softly, and Valkyrie turns back just in time to see Loki dip her head in a respectful bow that reminds Valkyrie that Loki was and still is a Prince of Asgard, that Odin’s younger heirs are surprising in ways different from his first, and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to the scar. Before Valkyrie can manage to find her voice around the lump in her throat again, Loki presses the tip of a finger to one of the rings in her labia instead. “You’ve fought on Jotunheim?”
“Oh. Yes.” Valkyrie might want a subject change as much as Loki does, but Loki is obviously doing a better job at pivoting. And bargaining. A truth offered for a memory gained. “I earned that one in the battle that helped to put Laufey on the throne of Jotunheim, and Odin used that unrequested…aid…to dictate the terms of the relationship between Asgard and Jotunheim for centuries after.”
“Asgard put Laufey on the throne? No wonder there was such resentment later, which likely also led into the last great war. And no wonder this is the first I’ve heard of it, as Asgard would not want to admit the puppet king they had originally installed was now rebelling.” Lokl gives a self-deprecating smile with too much behind it, then sighs and flops down dramatically on the bed. “I tire of history for now.”
“I agree.” Valkyrie reaches out with a foot and prods at Loki’s delightfully perky ass with her toes. “Why don’t you come up here and do something about this like you promised?” she says, gesturing to her own spread legs with a smirk.
“Oh, and what happens if I don’t?” Loki asks, squirming away from her foot.
“I’ll punish you.”
“Ah. And what happens if I do?”
“I’ll punish you thoroughly.”
Loki’s eyes go dark and she shivers in anticipation. “Oh, yes. My mistress.” Quickly, she crawls into position, yanking Valkyrie’s legs over her pale shoulders. Leaning forward, she eagerly greets Valkyrie’s cunt with a messy, open-mouthed kiss, like enthusiastically greeting a returning lover after a long battle, before she turns to using her silver tongue to catch Valkyrie up with what has happened in each of the Nine Realms and beyond since the war.