the silver tongued god of mischief

[Continuation from here.]

Loki pushed the archer backwards till the mortal's back was pressed up against the wall, then he pushed a little harder. He pressed his whole body against the shorter man and rubbed appreciatively against his captive. He was moving slow and steady for the moment. Now, while he still had half the mind to control himself.

He was still debating on how to proceed. He wanted to enjoy this night.

Loki didn't leave the apartment all day in part fear that Barton would attempt to escape somehow. He already knew he was going to get into trouble for what he'd done, he certainly didn't need to loose the archer on top of the impromptu transformation spell he'd cast to turn the agent into a white tiger cub. He didn't mind being stuck inside all day on this particular eve though as the entertainment value provided by Barton's defiant attitude and Raun's eager attempts to get the cub to play with him were priceless.

By the end of the day Raun had begun to settle down and when Loki took a relaxed seat on the couch the kitten was almost instantly there to lie down in his lap. The Trickster god petted idly at the kitten's soft fur as he kept a deceptively lidded eye on the tiger cub.

Coulson would be home soon. Loki couldn't be more overjoyed by the prospect.