Her fingers trace runes over the skin he's conveniently bared to her as both precaution and tease. She's had far too many enemies to simply allow anyone into her chambers without protecting herself.

"Your skin is like marble," she whispers the words against the column of his throat before nipping at it, looking to leave a mark, testing her boundaries. "A work of art, carved by the Norns themselves." Another nip where neck meets shoulder. "It's always interesting to touch something beautiful. To know that your hands have forever altered it with a touch that can't be erased. Hands. Teeth. Tongue." Loki licks a stripe up the pulse of his skin and hums at the taste of him.