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Loki was on his lap.
Loki Laufeyson - God of Mischief, fallen Prince of Asgard, and the object of Mobius’ fascination for as long as he could remember - was currently planted directly in his lap, his breaths fanning quick and hot against Mobius’ lips as his own hovered a few scant inches above.
“What do you want, kitten?” Mobius murmured, unable to keep a bit of amusement from his tone even as Loki whined. A thin, impatient little sound.
This wasn’t, admittedly, how Mobius had foreseen the evening going. They were supposed to have been watching a movie, by now, with the accompaniment of a couple of boxes of takeout and maybe a bottle of good bourbon.
Loki had only been back a few months now, and he was very obviously still in the process of healing completely.
Granted, he’d recently felt improved enough to insist upon accompanying Mobius on a longer stint at the TVA, which meant that they were currently just short of making out on Mobius’ standard-issue TVA sofa, rather than their significantly more comfortable one back on the timeline.
The current situation notwithstanding, however, Loki still needed to take frequent breaks, in order to continue functioning as he had been. As much as he vehemently continued to deny it, he needed rest.
And rest was exactly what Mobius had intended to provide, when they’d initially begun settling down for the evening.
Then, Loki had glanced up at him with those doe-eyes, the shoulder of his soft sleep shirt slipping down the still too-thin jut of his shoulder just a fraction, and Mobius had promptly lost track of the narrative.
Which had led to where they were now— Loki practically straddling his lap as he keened softly into Mobius’ mouth.
He still hadn’t answered Mobius’ question, seemingly too caught up in their current situation to focus on doing so, and Mobius intended to rectify that.
“Loki,” he murmured, and felt a thrill of satisfaction course through him when Loki’s eyes immediately snapped up to meet his own. “What do you want, huh?”
In all honesty, he wasn’t completely sure what he expected as a reply. This whole….physical aspect of their relationship was still relatively new to the both of them, and they hadn’t ventured much further beyond the occasional slow press of lips, yet.
The last thing he wanted to do was rush Loki, however, who was a little skittish by nature, and Mobius was therefore content to allow him to set the pace.
He could wait. They’d danced around each other for what felt like a century. He was content to have just this for another, if that’s what made Loki comfortable.
Loki, who was currently looking a little glassy-eyed, his breaths slow and slightly labored.
Mobius felt a small lurch of concern flip over in his stomach, though he forced himself to keep his tone light as he prodded, “Loki?”, thumbs stroking soothingly against the skin of Loki’s abdomen beneath his shirt, just above the hipbones.
“Hm?” Loki blinked, as if coming out of a sort of daze, then proceeded to offer the slow, blissful sort of smile he only ever really did when feeling completely comfortable.
If maybe a little blissed-out.
At the sight, Mobius felt the knot within his chest loosen slightly.
Just blissed-out. Not checked-out. Not floating away to the mental space he sometimes did when a situation was too overwhelming or new. Somewhere Mobius had difficulty reaching, no matter how hard he pressed.
“Hey there,” Mobius murmured, and leaned forward to press a small kiss against the pleasantly flushed skin of Loki’s nose.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He murmured against the skin there, and felt Loki’s brow furrow against his own in response. ”What do you want? Right now?”
It wasn’t unfamiliar, this prompting Loki gently back to the present. Be it a pleasant or unpleasant situation, the god was still experiencing brief lapses in focus or memory, much to his own chagrin.
Regardless of how often Mobius had tried to remind him that such a symptom was only natural, given what he’d been through.
“Right now.” Loki repeated, a little blankly, though his fingers began kneading against the skin at the back of Mobius’ neck in a manner that further confirmed his interest in the proceedings.
Taking the opportunity for what it was, Mobius leaned down to press another gentle kiss, this time against the elegant column of Loki’s neck just below the jut of his jaw, and was rewarded with a sharp little intake of breath as a result.
“That’s what I said.” He teased lightly, then placed another, wetter kiss, if only to elicit another breathless gasp. “There’s gotta be something.”
“What— ah!” Loki jerked a little, hands tightening against the back of Mobius’ neck as a bit of tongue was added to the mix. “What, pray tell, is on the table?”
While the words were characteristically proper, there was a sort of breathless quality to them that had Mobius’ blood warming pleasantly as he continued to explore the soft skin of Loki’s neck with both lips and tongue.
He hadn’t added teeth yet - not yet - though it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back when just the miniscule stimuli was already beginning to goad Loki into responding like that.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He murmured, and was met by a particularly intense shudder in response. “You have me. Now what do you want from this?”
Something about the words seemed to have a particularly strong effect on Loki, who elicited a small, pleased sort of sound, before tightening his hold on the back of Mobius’ neck, fingers tangling in the short hairs there.
The reaction caused Mobius’ heart to twist unexpectedly, and he found himself tightening his own hold on Loki’s waist in return.
“You have me.” He repeated softly, testing a theory, only to have it almost immediately confirmed as Loki exhaled a low whine.
Mobius felt his lips quirk up into a fond smile, and took a moment to place another soft kiss against the now reddened skin before him, before leaning back to take in the view.
As expected, Loki’s eyes were still glassy, the flush from his nose having spread across his cheekbones and up into his hairline.
His curls, though Mobius had only run his hands through them briefly some time earlier, were completely unkempt, framing his face like a halo, and they bobbed with each unsteady breath he took.
“Remarkable.” Mobius couldn’t help but mutter. “You’re so pretty like this, y’know? Sitting in my lap, all worked up.”
At the words, Loki’s flush deepened into something almost purple, and he squirmed slightly in place.
“Mobius…” he whispered, brows drawing together in that way they did when he was attempting valiantly to hold himself together.
And, though Mobius was tempted to continue teasing, continue drawing this out until Loki was a flustered, begging mess, he was also distinctly aware of his own vow to be patient. To be careful.
They had all the time in the world now, after all.
Which was why, instead of teasing, he simply whispered an answering, “okay”, before leaning up to capture Loki’s pliant lips beneath his own.
Immediately, Loki gasped, his hands moving to grip at either of Mobius’ shoulders with renewed force.
It bordered on painful, though Mobius would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the sensation.
As a result, he shifted in order to leverage himself upward, hands slipping from Loki’s sides to grip instead at his forearms as Mobius planted his own elbows onto the cushion of the sofa at his back.
Though it wasn’t entirely intentional, the change in angle resulted in an abrupt deepening of their kiss, their tongues clashing messily in a way that held more heat than anything else they’d done since they’d begun this little venture into the new and unexplored side of their relationship, some weeks before.
Unable to help himself, Mobius hummed in pleasure, and began to smile again as he felt Loki jolt in surprise.
Then, unexpectedly, he stilled, his mouth going completely slack against Mobius’ own.
The reaction was as abrupt as it was startling, and Mobius didn’t think twice before drawing back, their mouths disconnecting with a near obscene click.
When he glanced back up, it was to find Loki studying him almost sheepishly, chest still heaving even as his shoulders began to climb up toward his ears.
“Mobius,” he began, voice hoarse. “I—“
“It’s okay.” Mobius was quick to reassure, and gave the elbows beneath his hands a soft squeeze. “That was really fast. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”
“No, I—“ Loki shook his head, then glanced away abruptly with a small and frustrated sound that had Mobius’ heart sinking within his chest.
I’ve ruined it. He thought, a little frantically, though refused to allow that particular panic to bleed into his expression.
Not what Loki needed right now.
“Hey,” he prodded, instead. “No problem. We can slow down. Take our time.”
“It’s not—“ Loki huffed. “It’s not that.”
Mobius furrowed his brow. “No?”
He took a moment to take careful stock of the situation, noting that - while not exactly relaxed - Loki was not nearly as tense as he had anticipated, the frown on his features not too pronounced.
Hinting that whatever frustration he was feeling was not directed at Mobius’, but inward, at himself.
Mobius could work with that.
“Then what is it?” He pressed, when the silence continued to stretch between them. “Explain it to me.”
Chasing a hunch, he released Loki’s arms to replace his hands on his sides, above the shirt this time, at which Loki released a small huff of breath that was blessedly more relieved than anything else.
Even still, he averted his gaze yet again, and his throat bobbed with what was no doubt a tight swallow.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted, before Mobius could get a word in edgewise, expression twisting into something almost painfully earnest. “I didn’t mean to— We can continue with—“
The gesture he gave, a slight swivel of one hand, was vague enough that Mobius almost cracked a grin at the sight of it, though he knew it wasn’t exactly the ideal moment.
Not when Loki was continuing to look so damn lost, like he was practically begging Mobius to take the responsibility of continuing the thought off of his shoulders.
Unfortunately, while a talented analyst, Mobius wasn’t a mind reader, and needed a bit more to go off of before he could allow the situation to settle.
“Hey,” he spoke gently, though Loki’s eyes once again shifted to meet his own, albeit with a bit more reluctance, this time. “Remember what we said when we started this?”
“That we’d taken entirely far too long to get here?”
Somehow, in spite of his own apparent discomfort, Loki was still able to maintain the ever-familiar wry sarcasm he so often wielded, and Mobius was helpless to keep the smile off of his face, this time.
“No, smartass.” He squeezed Loki’s side with one hand, careful to keep the movement both gentle and obviously teasing. “We said that we needed to talk to each other, be honest, in order for this to work. Remember?”
If the suddenly slightly uncomfortable expression that creased at the edges of Loki’s features was anything to go by, he definitely did remember the conversation Mobius was alluding to.
Nevertheless, Mobius waited patiently for a verbal response, knowing that Loki was well aware of the expectation.
And, after another beat of silence, it came.
”I do.” Loki muttered, tone so low it was almost inaudible, though Mobius heard it all the same.
“Good.” He replied, which earned him a renewed flush spreading across the high points of Loki’s cheekbones.
Which, of course, only served as a temptation to keep pressing, keep praising, to see just how far that flush might spread…
Later. Mobius reminded himself firmly, yet again. They had time.
“Then how about we try this again, yeah?” He ventured, “You tell me what’s up— without trying to insist that it’s nothing.” He warned sternly, when Loki opened his mouth to protest. “And I promise to listen. Deal?”
It was a long shot, admittedly. While they’d come a long way in the past few months, Loki was still working through his own tendency to clam up and withdraw when things got a little too emotionally intense for his liking.
In turn, Mobius had been forcing himself to actually stop and listen, rather than fall back into the habit of psychoanalyzing and goading Loki into admitting his true feelings one way or another, when such occasions did arise.
But they’d been learning, and Mobius couldn’t help but be proud of how far they’d come together.
A feeling that was bolstered further when, after another few moments, Loki swallowed again, and offered a slow nod.
“Alright.” He agreed, and Mobius could have cheered as he felt another surge of pride course through him.
He held himself back, however, and settled for a small smile.
“Alright.” He echoed. Then, deciding to take a little pity and open the proverbial door himself, added, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, huh?”
To his relief, Loki seemed to wilt slightly at the gentle, friendly tone, and leaned forward to tangle his fingers into the fabric of Mobius’ shirt collar.
A nervous habit, Mobius knew, but at least he wasn’t feeling so uncomfortable he was drawing away from the contact.
“It’s only…” Loki trailed off, brow furrowing as his gaze settled somewhere over Mobius’ right shoulder. “It’s silly.”
He shook his head slightly, as if coming back to himself from some far off thought.
Mobius was quick to nip that in the bud, however.
“Nuh uh.” He shook his own head disapprovingly. “Listening, not judging, remember? I wanna hear what you have to say. Even if you think it’s silly. Even if it is.”
He had meant the last part to be jovial, an attempt to draw Loki’s mood back toward something more light-hearted, though the wide-eyed, slightly stunned look he received in reply insinuated that he’d missed the mark, the reassurance still a little too real. A little too raw
Like so few in Loki’s life had ever been willing to actually listen to him without the threat of judgement, and the offer of it now was enough to stun him into an almost reverent sort of silence.
And the thing was, Mobius knew that this was the case. Had seen it himself, more times than he cared to recall.
Yet the fact did little in the face of the pure sorrow that briefly constricted within his chest at the thought.
“Sweetheart.” He whispered. “You know you can talk to me.”
Unexpectedly, Loki’s expression shifted into something almost convicted, at the words, and he straightened with a new sort of resolution.
“I do.” He repeated, at length, almost to himself. “I do.”
Then, he gave a small but firm nod, as if to steel himself, and inhaled a deep, tremulous breath before letting it burst back out of him in a gust of an exhale.
All the while, Mobius waited patiently, by now well-familiar with Loki’s methods of gearing himself up for a particularly vulnerable conversation.
True to form, Loki finished out the textbook motions - swallowed thickly, pursed his lips, and blinked twice in quick succession - before shifting to meet Mobius’ gaze head on.
“It’s just…” He finally spoke, tone low but determined. “You— You asked. What I wanted.”
Mobius bit back the urge to frown in confusion at the sudden turn in the conversation, veering in practically the opposite direction he’d been anticipating. “Yeah?”
“Well.” Loki cleared his throat, blinked again. “It isn’t that this isn’t…nice.”
He gestured again, then, to the minimal space between them. The fact that he was still essentially planted in Mobius’ lap, and quite comfortable with the position, given that he hadn’t so much as shifted in an attempt to break the contact between them.
There was a caveat there, however. Mobius knew well.
“But,” Loki continued, like clockwork. “It’s— What I want, it’s— Well, it’s a bit embarrassing, if I’m being honest.”
The words, to Mobius’ dismay, were beginning to leave Loki in a rapid sort of landslide of syllables, which meant that he was likely close to falling back into another cycle of self-doubt.
Or, worse, outright panic.
“Hey,” Mobius cut in gently. “Even if it’s silly, remember?”
“Right.” Loki nodded a little jerkily, then sucked in another breath. “Well, then. I was— Well, I was rather hoping that you— That we might—“
He’d reached a limit, it seemed, and fell forward in a defeated kind of slump before drawing his hands back toward himself.
For a moment, Mobius was sure that he was going to pull away entirely, and braced himself for the inevitable sting that would follow.
It was to his great surprise, therefore, that Loki remained exactly where he was, and hesitated only briefly before bringing his arms up to wrap around himself, hands cupping the opposite elbows in a repetitive sort of pantomime that might have been comical, under different circumstances.
As it was, Mobius shook his head slightly, admittedly at a loss as to what Loki was attempting to convey with the odd little charade.
Something he did not need to vocally share, if the exasperated look that overtook Loki’s features was anything to go by.
“Ugh!” Loki groaned, and raised both hands to bury his now reddening face behind them. “I only meant that the— the kissing, it— It’s nice. But, at present, I would rather simply…Just…”
With a sigh, he lowered his hands, and once again wrapped them around his middle in a loose embrace.
And, all at once, something clicked within Mobius’ mind.
Of course. Of course.
“Loki,” he huffed, and could not have stopped the fond little smile spreading across his face if he had tried. “Are you asking for a hug?”
It seemed to be both the right and the wrong thing to say, for Loki seemed to sag slightly in what could only be relief, even as his eyes took on a telltale sheen.
“I’m sorry.” He sniffed, and glanced down to study where he was now wringing his hands miserably together in his lap. “I know it’s not what you wanted, but—“
“Hey, hey.” Mobius was quick to interrupt, and reached up with one hand to cradle the side of Loki’s head carefully, fingers tangling in the soft curls there. “Who said anything about it not being what I want, huh?”
Loki frowned.
“But,” he shook his head, and a stray tear spilled down the side of his cheek at the movement.
He’d always been quick to tears, and the tendency had seemed to increase ten-fold, since his return from the “End of Time”.
Mobius had mostly chalked it up to pure exhaustion, though he honestly would have been willing to take it in stride if it was simply another new part of his Loki they’d have to take into account.
It wasn’t like he couldn’t deal with a few extra tears from one of the weepiest individuals he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
That being said, he adjusted his hand slightly now to brush the tear away with the corner of his thumb.
“You were clearly…Enjoying yourself.” Loki finished, a little lamely, the words accompanied by a slight flush of the skin beneath Mobius’ hand.
“Sure was.” Mobius shrugged. “But it doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy myself doin’ something else.”
Unsurprisingly, the words didn’t quite seem to compute to Loki, and the furrow between his brow deepened as he shook his head uncomprehendingly.
“I don’t understand.” He added, the admission unnecessary, though no less heartbreaking for it. “You— That’s something you’d be okay with?”
Unable to help himself, Mobius huffed again, and ran his fingers softly through Loki’s curls in what had in the past proven to be an effectively soothing gesture.
“Now I’m gonna answer that question with another question.” He warned, only half-joking. “When have I ever been not okay with hugging you?”
Loki’s expression spasmed at the words, and Mobius had to remind himself yet again just how new this entire thing was to him. The physical and emotional intimacy both.
“You haven’t.” Loki confirmed, only a little hesitantly. “But I meant it more as more of an ‘instead’, rather than in reference to the singular action in itself.”
Oh. Mobius felt his heart twist again.
“Hey,” he removed his hand from Loki’s hair, instead moving it to tap chidingly beneath Loki’s chin with the knuckle of his forefinger. “I’m fine with an ‘instead’. As long as you’re comfortable.”
Almost as if to contradict the statement, Loki’s eyes immediately began to grow glassy again.
“Even if it’s something lesser?” He whispered.
Mobius bit back a sigh, though he couldn’t necessarily say that he was surprised by the tremulous inquiry.
The culture Loki had been steeped in practically since birth had praised the physical, revered the sexual, and blatantly scorned anything that might have been considered vulnerable in comparison.
Lesser, apparently.
Often, while watching the reels, Mobius had lamented that Asgard had ill-suited the gentle spirit that had kindled within Loki from a very young age. That longing for closeness, comfort and validation.
He’d hidden it well, as he’d grown older. Pushed it down so far that many had considered it lost entirely, after a time.
Not Mobius.
He’d seen the phantom after-effects of that kindness, that soft and near-painfully tentative longing Loki consistently carried with him. To trust, and allow himself to be cared for without reservation.
It had been more present since his return - particularly in the past few weeks - and Mobius would be damned if he didn’t at least make an effort to nurture it back to full health.
“Loki,” he murmured, as lowly as he could manage while still remaining audible. “There’s nothing lesser about it, okay? Not if it’s something you need.”
Loki’s breath hitched, stuttered dangerously, even as he eyed Mobius with something like hope sparkling behind his eyes.
“Truly?” He breathed in turn. “You truly don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.” Mobius confirmed with a small smile. “Heck, I consider it a bonus! Anytime I get to have you within arm’s reach is a win, in my book. The closer the better.”
To his relief, Loki’s lips tilted upward into a small smile, at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly.
“Right.” His eyes dropped to his lap again, though Mobius got the distinct feeling that the action was more flustered than embarrassed, this time. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Mobius parroted, if only to prompt a brighter smile. “So how do you want to do this, then?”
The smile dimmed, at that.
“Beg pardon?” Loki shook his head slightly. “Do…”
“Well,” Mobius cut in with a casual sort of half-shrug. “I mean we’re kind of already halfway there, as far as hugs go. We could stay like this, if you wanted.”
He deliberately left the statement open-ended, knowing that Loki’s curiosity would make it impossible for him to resist taking the bait.
And, sure enough—
“Or?” Loki prodded, and raised one brow slightly.
Beneath Mobius’ hand, the muscles of his side relaxed further, and Mobius mentally applauded himself for having gotten the both of them back to a more mutually comfortable state.
“Well I don’t wanna spoil all the options, here.” He teased, and returned his hand back to his favored task of stroking through Loki’s hair, just above the ear. “But we could lie down, if you wanted to just cuddle, your head on my chest or shoulder. You seemed to like that, the last time.”
An understatement. That had practically been their default position since Loki’s return, even before the more ‘romantic’ side of their relationship had been touched on.
A fact Loki himself was keenly aware of, if the slightly flush warming the skin below the slow and even strokes of Mobius’ fingers was anything to go by.
“Or we could watch a movie.” Mobius pivoted the conversation, though he had a feeling as to how the suggestion would be met. “You could lay your head in my lap, fall asleep like that.”
It wasn’t anything particularly suggestive, what he was proposing, though Loki still shifted uncomfortably, as if Mobius laying everything out verbally was somehow too much for him to handle.
A distinct possibility, but they had to start somewhere. Mobius was a firm believer that a little open communication had never hurt anyone and, beneath all the subterfuge and discomfort, he knew that Loki more or less shared the sentiment.
“I—“ Loki swallowed. “That is an…option.”
Mobius raised both brows, feigning surprise.
“But…?” He goaded. “Gotta tell me what you want, remember?”
If anything, Loki’s flush only deepened at the words.
“But,” he repeated, a little reluctantly. “Perhaps, for tonight, you might be amenable to just…”
He trailed off, though Mobius finally decided to take some pity, as he was able to read the script hidden between the lines now with crystal clarity.
“Holding you?” He finished, to which he was granted a startled, almost frighteningly hungry look. “Yeah, baby. Of course. I’ll hold you for as long as you need.” He sucked in an unsteady breath, then added, “As long as you’ll let me.”
That was all it took, apparently. Almost immediately, Loki’s features crumbled, and he fell forward with a gasp to bury his face into the crook between Mobius’ jaw and neck— his spot.
Almost automatically, Mobius’ own hands shifted into place, one rising to cup the back of Loki’s neck, the other beginning to soothe up and down the prominent bumps of his spine in a feather-light touch.
“Aw, sweetheart.” He crooned, when Loki shuddered mightily against him, his hands rising to tangle in the fabric of Mobius’ shirt at the sides. “I got you, okay? I got you.”
There was a frantic sort of movement against his neck as Loki bobbed his head in reply.
“I know.” He fairly gasped, then shifted as if in an attempt to burrow impossibly further against Mobius’ side. “I know.”
They stayed like that for an indeterminable amount of time. At some point, Mobius began to rock the two of them slowly from side to side.
And, when Loki inevitably began to shudder, low whimpers crawling up the back of his throat at the prolonged proximity, Mobius began to hum. It was admittedly tuneless, though Loki seemed to relax immensely at the sound of it - or perhaps just the vibration of Mobius’ chest against his own - all the same, so he kept it up.
After some time, Mobius felt himself beginning to drift, and knew without a doubt that Loki was likely in a similar boat, if the deep and evening breaths expanding the narrow shoulders beneath his still stroking hand were anything to go by.
Loath as he was to disturb the peace, Mobius determined that he’d better check in now, in order to skirt the possibility of any potential emotional fallout.
So, he shifted, and brought the hand at Loki’s neck up to cup the back of his head, instead.
“Hey,” he murmured, knowing immediately that he’d been heard when Loki twitched slightly at the sound. “How we doin’, huh?”
“Hm?” Loki hummed groggily, the immediate response a testament to just how close to sleep he had been.
Mobius would need to relocate them to the bed, at some point. While Loki had complained several times about the ‘poor state’ of this thin TVA mattress, it would be more merciful on both of their backs than the sofa.
The thought in mind, Mobius shifted again so that he was able to get a better look at Loki’s features, and was pleasantly surprised to find them smoothed out with what was either comfort or pleasure.
“Hi there.” Mobius greeted again, “How about we head to bed, huh? Get a little more comfortable.”
There was a beat, before Loki’s eyes fluttered open, two slits of vibrant blue.
Then, he frowned slightly.
“Hm.” He grunted, and turned to hide his face in the crook of Mobius’ neck again. “A few more moments.”
A small, delighted little chuckle bubbled up from within Mobius’ chest at the request.
“I’ll still hold you in bed, sweetheart.” He reassured, and punctuated the point with a firm stroke of his fingers through the curls at Loki’s neck. “But we’re both gonna feel better for it in the morning if that’s where we crash.”
Loki’s reply, when it finally came, was surprisingly coherent, though he kept his face carefully tucked away.
“I know.” He muttered, audibly begrudging. “Just…A moment more?”
Mobius was, of course, incapable of denying his god anything when he used that particular tone, and what was worse was that Loki was fully aware of the fact.
Scamp, Mobius thought fondly.
“‘Kay.” He agreed, and was immediately rewarded by a pleased little hum. “Few more minutes, then. Though you’re gonna be the one bringing me pain pills when I inevitably get a crick in my neck.”
He felt Loki smile against the side of said neck, and his stomach warmed pleasantly at the sensation.
“Deal.” Loki muttered, his hands flexing against Mobius’ sides before he settled once more.
Mobius smiled and relaxed back against the sofa, fully anticipating that they’d lapse into another bout of silence until he roused them again.
Which was why it was to his great surprise that Loki’s voice sounded again not a minute later.
“Mobius?” He whispered, voice uncharacteristically small.
Mobius tightened his hold, in turn. “Yeah?”
“I—“ Loki inhaled a little shakily, then turned to press a small, barely there kiss to the junction between Mobius’ neck and shoulder. “Thank you.”
Not for the first time that evening, Mobius felt his chest swell with a near overwhelming force of affection.
“Oh, sweet thing.” He whispered, and pressed a kiss to Loki’s temple in return. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to be here— to do this. And,” He paused, finding himself having to swallow thickly against his suddenly tight throat. “And I’m happy you’re here, too. Always.”
Loki made a sound - something between a whine and a sigh - and moved one hand to grip at the fabric of Mobius’ shirt with renewed force.
“Even if it’s just this?” He questioned, at length.
Mobius squeezed him gently.
“Of course.”
Loki seemed to hesitate, then tacked on, the words barely audible now, “And if it’s only ever…just this?”
Mobius sighed.
There was an unspoken question there, he knew. A heaviness that he was sure that they weren’t ready to tackle, just yet.
Not tonight, at least.
Instead, he simply exhaled another carefully measured breath, and moved to press another kiss to the soft skin at the corner of one of Loki’s already fluttering eyelids.
“Even then.” He whispered.
Beneath him, Loki sucked in what sounded like a suspiciously wet breath, and turned to hide his face again.
Moments later, Mobius felt the fabric of his shirt growing slightly damp at the collar, though he opted to simply begin rocking again, rather than comment.
“I’ve got you.” He murmured. “And you have me. You know that, right?”
A beat, then, “I do.”
It felt, Mobius reflected in nothing short of awe, almost startlingly close to a promise.
He could work with that.