Normally Sif's kisses tended to be as brutal as the lady herself; a hint of dominance, of defiance, hot and heavy and breathless. Always breathless. This was not a normal occasion, however. As forbidden and unthinkable as this might have been to her, some part of her had wanted this for a long time. Sif barely remembered details of a time when thoughts of kissing Loki kept her awake at night, but she remembered those thoughts vividly. It was an old unfulfilled desire; not nagging, but very much there.

Despite some part of her feeling this was a long time coming, there was nothing brutal about the way she brought up a hand to Loki's cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. The warmth of his hand at her back was a pleasant addition that caused her to lean in closer, and still when she deepened the kiss it remained soft, so unlike her and yet exactly how she wanted it to be.