When Loki tried to catch his breath, all he could manage was a tiny whine, low and far down in his throat.
His brother’s cock was enormous.
It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. He’d seen it before, almost always soft against Thor’s thigh, but on occasion—when Loki didn’t respect his brother’s privacy—he’d seen it with Thor’s fist wrapped around it, coaxing it to peak, or, less pleasingly, in the middle of being used on one of the more enthusiastic wenches of the village below.
He’d never actually felt it, and it was from this perspective that Loki truly appreciated the impressive proportions of his brother’s cock.
This was the outcome of a wrestling match that had gone somewhat awry. Thor had been teasing Loki with the spoils of their last battle. He’d pillaged a collection of apothecary’s stores that, as Loki pointed out vehemently, Thor could make no use of. Want no use of.
Loki wanted them desperately. But it wasn’t until Thor waggled a female swamp dragon’s tertiary fang in Loki’s face that Loki’s control snapped. A grab—unsuccessful—and then several hard shoves that only made Thor laugh: those were the result. But then Loki had smacked his elder brother across the face, a backhand, in fact, and the fight between them began in earnest.
They didn’t have much room for violence. It was Loki’s bedchamber, and the younger prince had years before demanded and designed a bed for it that took up most of the space. So Thor had little opportunity for creativity after he flung the dragon’s tooth into a corner, grabbed his brother by the collar, and prepared to pound him into submission.
Oh. It wasn’t, originally, that kind of pounding.
Loki had ended up flat on his belly, in the middle of his bed, with his arms twisted up behind his back, and Thor hissing in his ear, “Submit, Loki.” Loki squirmed. “I said submit.”
Loki wasn’t certain when the dynamic had changed, but it may have been—partially—the result of the wiggle of his hips, as he was just trying to get free. He only succeeded in parting his legs around his brother’s, letting Thor settle more solidly against him.
Battle always did have an untoward effect on Thor. One that those wretched tavern wenches frequently got the benefit of afterwards, and apparently Loki might enjoy right now. Possibly even more than a yellowed, cracked dragon’s tooth.
“Submit.” Thor punctuated the command with a thrust of his hips harder against Loki’s. Loki wondered if Thor even realized what he was doing, but then, after a little cry from the younger as his arms were twisted harder …
Yes, that seemed to do the trick.
He could hear the laces of Thor’s breeches splitting, whether by Thor’s one free hand or the impressive power of that erect cock, Loki didn’t know. What he did know was that his own leggings were pulled down, ripped away suddenly, and it was very fortunate indeed that in his more dissolute activities, he had learned a spell to ease the w—
And that was how he found himself spitted on his brother’s cock, the hot, fat head of it driven so far into his gut that Loki suspected it was impeding his breathing. Well, impeding it more than Thor’s dense weight pressing down on him, one arm still holding Loki’s own up against his back, the other bracing his upper body next to Loki’s cheek. Somehow—somewhat fortuitously—a mound of linens had ended up pillowing Loki’s hips, which were raised and in the perfect position to be—
Thor wasn’t moving, though.
Loki squirmed a bit more. With his leggings mostly stripped off, with Thor’s own trousers somehow gone, Loki could feel the coarse hair of his brother’s thighs scratching the sensitive insides of his own. Could feel how his own buttocks were spread wide and speared with that thick organ. Hadn’t felt anything like it in all his years of—
But Thor still wouldn’t move.
The bigger man was only breathing heavily behind him, and the hesitation in the sound, the hitch of possible sobering thoughts, was not pleasing. It was almost as if Thor had only just realized he was fucking his own brother and was experiencing … regret?
That wouldn’t do.
“Thor,” Loki began. “Is something amiss? Has your cock ceased to function?” He wiggled for emphasis. “Is it broken?”
Yes, Loki could hear the regret in Thor’s inhale, and that was useless indeed. “Loki, I—I’m sorry.” The words were a hot wind next to Loki’s ear, teasing the loose curls sprung up by the sweat of their conflict. Despite Loki’s annoyance, it felt lovely.
He wanted more of it.
He would get more of it.
“Thor,” he began again. Then, with a smirk and a solid plan, “Brother. I could indeed use a good hard fucking, just now.” Sighed theatrically. “Though with the feel of your weak and tiny organ, I find it difficult to believe you’d be able to give me what I want—”
Got a growl at that. So predictable. “You dare to speak such lies now, when I have you at my mercy?”
“At your mercy?” Loki mimicked. “Only as much as a finger is at the mercy of a splinter, I think.” He moved his bottom again. “In fact, that would be an insult to the splinter, for I can barely feel this.”
Had to bite back a groan as Thor thrust then, once. Another gust of breath displaced Loki’s hair. “You mean to taunt me into action, brother?” And there it was, Thor shaking off whatever reluctance he might feel at despoiling his sibling, and thank the fates for it.
“I mean to see what you’re capable of, brother.” Loki shifted his legs enough to tickle himself with that prickly hair, to feel the strong muscle and thick bone of Thor’s thighs still wrenching him apart. “I mean to get a good hard fuck, and I mean to be filled to bursting with seed.”
Faked his way through a dismissive laugh. “Release me so that I may find it. I doubt your pathetic balls can produce enough to fill one of Mother’s thimbles.”
And that did it, pretty much.
With an angry roar, Thor pulled almost all the way out—to Loki’s momentary horror—and then slammed back in, so deep and with such force that Loki’s body was lifted from the bed, a cry shoved from his lungs by the power of his brother’s thrust.
Another withdrawal, and this time Loki tried to brace himself, which was near-impossible to do with his wrists still trapped behind by one of Thor’s meaty hands. He slid forward again, a scream muffled behind pinched-shut lips, as Thor drilled him relentlessly. Thor had fallen from his own free arm and was now lying fully atop Loki, pulling back just enough to force the hard rhythm.
To make his fucking point with his cock, and make it he did.
Now it was Thor’s turn to goad. “You find my cock unsatisfying, brother?” he huffed, words Loki could barely make out over his own moans. He tried to hold his head up, wanted to watch Thor’s fingers crush and tear into the bedding next to his face, but each time he did, he was pounded forward until he was inhaling nothing but his own musky sheets.
Thor was still talking—oh, yes. “… for it does not seem so from here.” He twisted Loki’s wrists up tighter, laughed a bit at the whimper it forced from Loki’s mouth. “Your hole is wide open like a hungry mouth, lips slick and red and needy, wanting nothing more than to swallow me.” He lurched forward to bite at the shell of Loki’s ear before continuing. “And you will, brother, you will. You will drink every drop and only be sated when your belly is full.”
Loki’s sounds were attempts at words, thwarted by the thick staff reaming him open and then withdrawing only to core him once more. Loki was grateful for his inability to speak, because, if he had, his useless self-preservation may have forced him to beg for mercy, to plead for his brother to stop, to be gentle …
And he had no real wish for that. Instead, his garbled sounds only spurred Thor on, as the monstrous phallus attached to his brother shifted just enough to—
Oh. And then Loki did scream.
The bulbous head’s rubbing over his sweet spot had Loki trying—trying so hard—to lurch to his knees, to give his own cock enough room to spill its seed, perhaps to spur Thor into using that free hand for a more productive purpose. But Thor’s weight still pressed him down, and Loki knew his pleasure was at the mercy of his brother.
The brother he had, perhaps unwisely, angered but a few long moments before.
As the shaft teased and bumped and slid wetly over the sweet source of Loki’s pleasure, the hidden place deep inside, he revised his thinking—this had all been quite wise.
“What say you, brother?” And Thor wasn’t done teasing now. “Is my cock enough for you? Or are you so unmanned that your own balls cannot even give up their precious seed when you are subjected to such a performance?” And the brief silence meant Thor was—oh, no—thinking. When he continued, it was with an obvious, if unseen, smile. “I should like to see if you can fill more than a thimble with your cock’s desperate spurts.”
Oooh. Bastard. “Thor, I—” And those were words, choked out as Loki’s pleasure only rose at his brother’s harshness, but they were all he could manage.
Thor, meanwhile, continued, his tone knowing and suggestive. “I should have you spill, instead, into a goblet, so that we may truly take measure of whose seed is more plentiful.” Thor scraped his bearded cheek against Loki, who turned his face into the touch. Even over the grunts he issued at each now-rhythmic, brutal impalement, he could hear Thor clearly. “And I would then present it to you, vessel filled to the top with both of us, our seed combined …”
Loki’s body tensed as his ecstasy finally crested, as he dreaded and craved how Thor would finish.
And, yes, the final words slipped into his ear, barely a whisper. “And I would watch you raise it to your liar’s lips, and drink it all down.”
So it was Thor’s mouth, and not entirely his cock, that sent Loki surging over the edge, his trapped cock spilling—plentifully, thank you—into the soft sheets beneath him, his ass, like the hungry mouth Thor described, suckling desperately at the monstrous rod that still pounded into him.
Thor roared as his own pleasure was finally milked from his swollen balls, driving his shaft once more deeply into Loki’s ass and filling him—oh, yes, filling him to burst—with loads of hot, slick come.
So, Loki was too tired to complain when his brother collapsed fully onto Loki’s back. Instead, he only worked to pull his arms down to his sides, hissing as the strained muscles moved back into their proper places. Thor’s cock was still embedded in his ass, though Loki could finally—mercifully—feel it soften, feel the seed beginning to pulse out with the final clenches of his climax.
Thor’s breath was still warm on his face.
When he spoke, his voice was hesitant once more; though, if Loki had to pick the emotion, he would have called it surprise.
“You really shouldn’t goad me, Loki,” Thor chided.
And Loki only laughed weakly as he savored his brother’s bulk along his back, against his ass, between his legs. “Brother, if that was the lesson you wished to teach, you have gone about it the wrong way indeed.”
The pleased rumble of Thor’s amusement was his answer.