[ Resting his forehead against Billy's neck, Loki's low laughter shakes all through his chest and shoulders. A nibble finds its way back up to the hinge of a jaw, nosing there as he raps light fingers on Billy's hands almost thoughtfully. ]

How about we kiss until you feel like sending me packing? I promise to leave as soon as you grow sick of the sight ... and taste of me.

[ Oops, that ear needed a nip. ]