swirling black lilies totally ripe

She said he should get acquainted with all of her, so he set out to do just so, sat back as she changed shape. Her hair grew longer, but just past her shoulders, and straighter than the last time he’d seen it long; it made him wonder if most days she just didn’t have the time to dry it right. But the hair was of little importance, anyone could change theirs; the face was a different matter, ever so slightly softer now, cheeks fuller. He reached out. Under his thumbs, the already sparse hint of a stubble turned to fuzz, so fine the eye couldn’t tell it from skin.

“You’re really taking your time,” he noted.

“It’s just the best way to show you everything. Each step of the way I’m still me.” Her frame narrowed, as if one layer of muscle were retreating into itself. The cartilage of her throat shifted almost imperceptibly. “I hope you won’t think less of me for going to certain extremes,” she said, her voice higher now, but unchanged in its inflection. “I just want to show off my range.”

“Thanks for the clarification. I was really starting to worry you were one of those traditional women who bake pies in frilly dresses all day.”

Her hips filled out, as did her chest. Each of her breasts could fit in his palm, but he wasn’t ready to test it out.

“Whatever happened to the extremes,” he said, throat dry.

“I like them better this way.”

“They suit you,” he agreed, and nodded. His head was spinning a little, like he was a little virgin boy who’d never seen a pair of tits, or like he’d never seen Loki undressed before. In a way, he hadn’t. A pound of tissue and her shirtlessness was suddenly obscene; the same person sat before him, but she looked more vulnerable now, more delicate, though she certainly didn’t carry herself like so: back straight, chin up, as if it was all the same to her. Maybe it was.

From the waistband of her leather trousers climbed up a thin strip of darker hairs, like a promise. She took his hands and brought her to her hips, nodded, smiled. Trousers and boxers came off all at once. “I was thinking,” she said, a hint of hunger in her voice, “how about you look but you don’t touch?”

He pulled away with a desperate whine, and sank his nails into his palms. His own body was crying out, feverish, but he decided he could take care of it later. She looked less named now, when he could see everything; with the entirety of her on display, the exposed skin was not provocation, but its obvious, natural state. Still maddening to look at: natural bodies cause natural thoughts, and Feilan tried hard not to let them show, to be good and quiet and watch her spread her legs and show him a sex he’d never seen on her, and for a moment he really felt as though he’d died right there. How many had seen it, he wondered. Who else had had the privilege, and if anyone had, was it the same as this one?

“I can make it look different,” she said, as if reading his mind, “but I feel this one more. It would be useless to teach you a form I don’t like.”

“I quite like this one.”

“That’s very good for you,” she said, sounding not snarky, but matter-of-fact. She gently pulled herself open, showing the pink flesh inside, and Feilan had to look away to avoid blacking out.

He wanted to taste her, to lunge at her and eat her like he was starving. “I think we should end it here,” he said, and crossed his legs as if it would change anything. His ears were ringing. “I can’t… I don’t think… it’s a good idea.”

Loki looked at him for a moment. In one smooth move she rolled over and climbed off the bed, ended up on her knees in front of him. She rested her cheek on his thigh. “You don’t think so?”

Her fingers danced on his belt, and he closed his eyes. He nodded. If they continued, he believed, his heart might give out. Or he might do something extremely embarrassing in front of her, which wasn’t one bit less terrifying.

A light smack on his hip and the weight on his leg was gone. Fabrics rustled. “Perhaps you’re right.” By the time he opened his eyes, she was already dressed. “More of a third date thing, yeah?”

His chest fluttered. “We’ve been further than this a few times, I reckon.”

“And yet, you act like you’ve never seen me before in your life.”

“Well, I haven’t, in a way.”

On the doorway, she gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Flattering.”

Feilan waited to be alone before banging his head against the wall, dazed, fever still boiling under his skin.