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Warmth

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In the beginning, it is easy.

Loki knows Thor’s tells, the meanings behind each wink and the bend of his lips. He puts a little extra squeeze into his embraces, lingers a little bit too long after putting Thor to bed after a long night of drinking. A small bump of his shoulder, an extra lick of his lips when he knows Thor is looking.

He can’t quite say why he does it. It can’t be as simple as- he wants it. He needs a handle on Thor, yes, that’s it. Later he will think it was the beginning of when he knew he was different. Knew he was set apart from the rest of his supposed family, knew he was other. Foreign. Some red-eyed alien with bitter icewater for blood, searching for a little bit of warmth.

Thor puts off warmth like a bonfire.

 

After a night of sloppy drinking, he pries Thor away from the tavern, away from the others. His hips jut in clear invitation as he carelessly bumps against Thor.

It would be hard to miss the way Thor’s eyes widen and then narrow in a smirk. Loki licks his lips again in anticipation.

Thor throws a companionable arm around his shoulders as they stagger back to the palace. Loki hadn’t drunk nearly as much. He wanted to keep his wits sharp.

Loki closes the door to Thor’s bedchamber with a soft click, and locks it. The sound of the lock is louder, catches Thor’s attention from where he was trying to pry off his boots. He catches Loki’s eye and grins. Loki wonders if Thor had as much to drink as he had initially thought- his gaze seems too focused.

“Do you want something, brother?” Thor flicks his tongue out at the word, smiles like he accomplished something clever.

When he sees Loki tracking the movement, his smile changes into something hungrier. Loki feels the door behind him with his fingers, reassuring himself it is closed. Closed against what others would think, safe, they are safe here.

And very much alone.

Thor grips his upper arm, the warmth soaking through the leather of his sleeve. He pauses, gaze flickering between Loki’s eyes, bare inches from his face. Loki has to keep his eyes from fluttering closed with anticipation. As the moment drags on, Loki realizes he is asking for permission.

“Yes, you- you fool, I-” his palm flattens against the door in preparation for Thor’s onslaught.

Thor kisses his cheek, still hesitant. It makes Loki want to throw things at his head. Thor’s ragged breath is gushing over his jaw and neck, working its way through the undone laces on his shirt and down his chest, turning his skin into electricity and sparks. Thor’s lips pull away from his cheek reluctantly, stubble rasping as Thor seeks out his mouth.

“Please, oh please- just-” he licks into Loki’s mouth, swallows his begging for more. Loki is pushed back against the door, firm hands on his wrists and a knee between his thighs. He ruts helplessly, restlessly, against Thor’s hip. Loki’s mouth opens for a probing tongue, lips slick with spit. His lips split under the sharp pinch of Thor’s teeth. The tiny pain snaps through his body. If he thought he was hard before, it was nothing like now.

Thor seems content to hold him there and kiss him for merciless eons. No matter how much Loki wriggles, tries to get free, Thor merely grunts and pins him back in place. Loki is finally sobbing, whimpering, feeling that his skin will peel off and ignite if he doesn’t get relief. In between gasps for air, he moans, trying to ask for- for-

“Yes, want you to.” Thor whispers into his mouth in between kisses. Loki doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, but it has to be a way out of this torment. He finds the self control to nod, and Thor retreats a few inches. He seems to be looking for something in Loki’s eyes. Again Loki wonders exactly how much Thor really did drink.

Thor reaches for his shirt, still keeping him perched on his toes and largely resting on Thor’s thigh. With a loud rip, he tears the seams and splits it into two. He doesn’t seem to feel this needs more removal, and it hangs limply from Loki’s shoulders as Thor puts his attention to the rest of his clothes. Loki feels his weight resting back on his feet as Thor attacks his mouth again, roughly pulling their pants down just enough to free their cocks.

As Thor frots against him, his eyes roll back with the increase in pressure and heat. He could do this forever, he thinks dazedly. The cold wood of the door behind him balances him out, reminds him to store this shimmering heat for the freeze he knows is around the corner.

Desperate to feel more, he grabs at Thor’s shoulders, trying to maneuver him into that exact motion, mimic what he does to himself late at night. His fingernails score down Thor’s biceps when he hits on that perfect groove.

Which, of course, is when Thor stops. “I think we should move- there’s a bed, or even the rug-”

Loki nods. He should have thought of that, should have been thinking of what loud noise the door would make as it was rubbed against its hinges. He thinks that he should be ashamed of his lapse, but he’s just too hungry for more.

Thor pulls away, leaves Loki gasping and chasing his lips and shoulders. He watches Thor walk to the bed. Suddenly he doesn’t want the bed, doesn’t want that- he’ll think of why later, but the bed seems too- seems too real. He gets out, “No, no- on the floor, just like that-”

Thor toes off his boots and pants, pulls off his shirt and rolls onto his back on the rug. He grins up at Loki, still standing by the door with his mouth gaping open. Like a fool, his mind chimes in.

Loki pulls off the remains of his shirt, slips off his shoes and tosses his pants aside. He drops to his knees next to Thor, trying to remember, glad that he had thought ahead enough to not drink so much. He reaches out for Thor’s thigh, gets him to roll over onto his stomach and then lift up on his knees. Thor is ready for him, spread out like a present. He wants to unwrap him then, leave him open and gasping and utterly ruined for anyone else.

He bends his head down and licks Thor’s back, along the base of his spine. He licks up and then down, loving the shivers and curses he is pulling out of him. He spreads his hands along Thor’s sides, scratches lightly and then deeper as his mouth licks and kisses and bites. He finds Thor’s ass, licks at the furled pink skin until it opens as he gently insinuates a tongue.

Thor has long since given up cursing at him, and now just moans in entreaty. His back is bent like a bow, offering himself up, spreading his thighs open. Loki can’t hold back a “such a good little slut, just take it- take my-” as he laves his entrance till it’s sopping wet.

And Thor whimpers like a broken animal, “Anything, anything you’ll give me- just give it to me, yes...”

Loki magics lubricant from where it’s hidden under Thor’s bed. Hen opens him up, quickly, greedily. If his skin was on fire before, he doesn’t even know what it is now. Everything is focused on this one thing. His skin fizzes and he can feel the electricity snapping through every nerve and between every synapse.

As he sinks in, he reaches out with his filthy lubed up hand and grasps Thor’s long hair, rides him like it’s a race. Thor gasps and bucks into Loki’s other hand, reduced to incoherent sobs and pleas for more.

And Loki is happy to give it.

His orgasm is wrapping itself around his spine, coiling down through his belly. Loki makes himself slow down, focus on pulling at Thor’s cock until his wet panting breaths are at a fever pitch.

When he knows- just a little bit more- he can feel Thor’s muscles tensing around him, delicious pressure increasing and- he nearly comes without his own permission. Instead Loki pulls out, ignoring Thor’s keen, and flips him onto his back. Stripping Thor’s cock mercilessly, he bites his shoulders and neck. Thor raises his hands to tangle in Loki’s hair, score down his arms and back as he whimpers helplessly.

Thor’s orgasm comes just as Loki teethes a fresh mark onto his neck, just under where his cloak will hide it. Loki continues to pull at him through it, until Thor weakly tries to bat his hands away. Loki allows himself a small smile.

Lifting up Thor’s knees he pushes back in, loving the limpness and utter welcoming pull of his body, wrung dry from the seed covering Loki’s hand and belly. He fucks him brutally, quickly, to his own completion. His orgasm snaps through his body like a wire cable breaking under tension.

Thor’s eyes have been shut ever since his orgasm, but they flutter open again as Loki licks the seed from his hand and their bellies. Methodically, he sucks and laves at their skin with his tongue, drinking in the warmth of the seed. He lingers below Thor’s left nipple. He can feel his heart beating up through the skin, pushing hot blood through his body.

Loki has never felt so warm in his life.

He pushes Thor’s knees back up from where he had let them collapse back on the floor, nosing in between his cheeks. Ignoring Thor’s gasp and tensed muscles, he licks up the trickles of seed and finally places his lips around his red, abused hole and sucks. Thor’s gasps turn into a pained moan.

When Loki is satisfied he has gotten enough, he stretches back over Thor’s body, lingering over his swollen mouth. He refuses to kiss him, though- his mouth is disgusting, covered in sweat, stink and seed.

Without a word, he stands up. Putting his clothes back on, he can feel Thor’s gaze burning holes in his skin. He unlocks the door and leaves Thor as a filthy come streaked mess on the floor.

 

He knows Thor is unsettled, the next few days. Feeling the heat under his skin like a lizard in the sun, he doesn’t care. He ignores Thor’s attempts to get him alone, ignores his questioning eyes at mealtimes, and is not in the palace more often than he is.

But soon enough, the creeping cold returns, insinuating itself like gooseprickles, turning the tips of his fingers blue. And he remembers the way the warmth felt. He remembers want.

He lets Thor come in to his room while he’s working on his spellwork. He waits until he hears the sound of the lock. The tiny snick means safety, means secrecy.

Loki makes Thor disrobe while he remains clothed, reclining on the floor with spellbooks all around and runes written on the tiles. He unfastens his pants only enough to draw out his cock and wends his fingers through Thor’s long hair as he fucks his throat. Saliva rolls out of Thor’s swollen lips as his blue eyes look up at him in mute entreaty for more.

He shudders his orgasm down Thor’s tight throat. His orgasm rolls through him like a thunderstorm rolls through the desert.

Thor gently rearranges his orgasm-limp limbs until he’s on his stomach, hips pulled back until his pants are down around his knees and he rests on his legs. Thor takes so long opening him up with lube slick fingers Loki finally snarls at him to fuck him already. He can feel himself getting hard again and just wants more, wants a thick cock filling him up and making him feel full.

When Thor pushes in, it’s more than he ever thought he could accommodate. His back arches into it, his mouth gaping open. Thor pauses, puts a hand on his shoulders questioningly. Loki licks his lips, finally nods.

Thor doesn’t fuck him the way Loki had fucked him, all panting eagerness and filthy talk. He doesn’t say anything, but ever so often, Loki can hear his mouth opening as if he is going to say something, then hold back. At first he welcomes the silence. He relishes the long thick push of flesh inside him, loves the burn and the spike of sensation as Thor hammers against his prostate.

By the end of his orgasm, he’s almost screaming (except can’t scream, can’t scream, someone will hear, nobody can hear, this is his and his alone) with the frustration for what Thor’s withholding. He moans out as he’s coming into Thor’s fist. This seems to trigger Thor’s own orgasm, and Loki can feel the hot pulses of come deep inside him.

The heat warps his bones from the inside out, makes him feel like a heat shimmer over rocks on a summer day. He feels wavering, uncontrolled, warm. He catches himself smiling at Thor as Thor finds his clothes and leaves.

Thor wordlessly smiles back at him as he unlocks the door.

 

Loki has heard about the taboos and social mores of Asgardian life. He grew up there, after all. He pays about as much attention to these strictures as he does to the chattering of the ladies that spring up around Thor.

It makes no difference to him who he sleeps with. He’s lain with many beings less human than Thor and thought- nothing. Or is it that he felt nothing? Sometimes he’s wondered what it would be like to lay with someone who cared for him. Instead of spitting curses, careful barbs hidden in cleverly chosen words, instead of malice and despair, to have someone to come home-

No.

Loki has always had a queer way of self reflection. He holds every current or future possibility up to the light, considering the ripples and tides of each consequence. Past actions interest him not a whit, however. If he was a language, he would be all future tense. He knows this about himself, and does not care.

If Thor was a language, he would be all present tense. No subjunctive. He shares Loki’s irritable dismissal of the past.

Sometimes, during a complex spell, Loki feels another way of seeing open in his mind. All the sparks and memories and the scent of Frigga’s hair- ghosts and demons inside him, split open and vulnerable. Loki usually shuts his third eye down tightly after a few seconds- eternity- of mindless horror. Even gods are not meant to know themselves so completely. Especially gods.

Once, during the endless seconds in between worlds, in between minds, he sees himself standing with Odin and Thor. They are all standing in a desert, still as corpses. Odin faces west, where the sun will soon set. Loki faces east. He can see his doppelganger’s red eyes melting from the heat of the sunt, yet he stares unseeing.

Thor stands in between them, proudly, his blue eyes shining, the only things that appear alive in the tableau. In that terrible moment, Loki thinks he sees him as he will be. Now Thor is a callow youth. But soon he will be a god, will be a king, will be justice made flesh. Will be as far from Loki as it is possible to be.

He pulls together his magic and wrenches his third eye closed. Loki takes a few moments to breathe, gasping for air. As he slowly recalls where and when he is, in the center of his circle. Shivers run up and down his muscles.

Later that night, he seeks Thor out where he is sparring with Fandral. Careful to keep out of Fandral’s sight, he allows Thor to see him. When Thor becomes distracted and begs off further sparring , he lets Thor follow him back to Thor’s room. The door locks with a finality that makes him shudder with need.

He does his best to mask the gooseprickles that pinch his skin. The shivers only subside when Loki is inside his brother. He scrabbles at his hips as he thrusts, Thor on his knees with his face pushed into the rug by Loki’s weight. He savors Thor’s whimpers and bitten back moans. Loki stores everything for later, for when the bitter frost returns.

His own climax is like a wave cresting through his body. Loki can almost feel the water rushing through him, warm and silky.

Greedily, Loki pulls out and pushes Thor onto his back, quickly engulfing his cock with his mouth. As Thor cries out and shudders through his orgasm, Loki eagerly takes in each drop. The warm seed fills him up, erases the emptiness and the frigid ice. He could cry with the joy of it.

He noses contentedly at his brother’s stomach. Loki suddenly realizes that Thor’s fingers, woven tight in Loki’s hair during his orgasm, are still there. They are softly rubbing his scalp with an affection Loki has not permitted until now.

As Thor’s fingers still, and their gazes meet, Loki sees Thor smile tentatively. The moment stretches. Emboldened, Thor lifts him up as if to embrace him.

The slam of the door is deeply satisfying. Loki stalks back to his apartments, unselfconsciously naked, tiny angry flames dancing from his fingers.

 

Later, in a secret place in the forest, Loki paces. This would be the first time he thought about leaving Asgard besides a childish fancy.

But not the last.

Somewhere deep inside, below the level of conscious thought, he knows the only way for him to leave is to be thrown out.

Now that he’s had a taste of Thor, if he had any choice- he’d choose to stay. Even if he won’t allow the gentle touches, Loki knows he would allow Thor anything else. And the resistance to even that will be sure to cave.

Part of him hates that Thor can hold that over him. Could make him stay, even when he wants to leave. Knowing that Thor is not subtle enough to even try only angers him more, makes the defeat that more galling. For Loki to be foiled by- by that? By- by-

It cannot be borne. It must not be.

 

He stays away from Thor for quite some time after that. Ignoring the unspoken hurt in his brother’s eyes becomes more and more difficult as the chill settles around his skin and creeps into his bones. He tries to hide in the palace, throws himself into his work. He spends so long inside his own mirages he almost forgets the numbness sliding up his nerves. No matter how he concentrates- pare away everything until all he is, until all he will be is what he wants to be.

He is startled back out of half dreams and half illusion by a touch on his shoulder. He blinks the mist out of his eyes and looks up at Thor. Suddenly he recalls where he is.

Loki is hunched over a spellbook, fingers paused over an intricate collection of runes. He’s in a tiny chamber hidden in the back of the palace. Nobody should know where he is.

His eyes flicker over Thor’s and wonders how far he can take this. 

Thor crouches down next to him, careful of the books. "We have missed you at meals, brother. Why do you hide your face from- us?"

Loki holds out a hand.

His brother grasps it. For a while, he only holds it lightly. The grip becomes firmer as Loki kisses him. Heedless of the door Thor left open, finally uncaring of who should see (although the risk was not great, some small part whispers) Loki loses himself.

 

Thor does shut the door. Eventually.

 

As Thor shudders and moans Loki’s name, his fingers twist erratically and weakly in Loki’s hair. Loki lets himself have this. He lets the warmth flow through his skin and his veins, following the slow track to his chest. He feels the thick dark blood heating and loosening, flowing past ice crystals and leaching the blue color from his skin.

Loki wonders how long it will last. He slowly collapses next to Thor, lets him continue rubbing his hair and murmuring drowsily.

But he wants this so badly.

Loki knows he will destroy it from the inside out. He will destroy Thor from the inside out. His fingers spasm on Thor’s chest. Thor hums in irritation at the sparks, subsides when Loki forces his palm down.

Ruining is what he does. It’s not what he wants, but he is who he is.

He wants to take Thor’s love and hold it like a candle inside his heart. Let the tiny flame illuminate the atria and ventricles, shine through his aorta like tissue paper and pour out of his chest, undying in Loki’s immortality. Reduce it to a singe moment, a red hot sliver of time that he would carry through for eons, that Thor could never steal back. Something that would warm him and keep the blue from his skin and the icicles from his fingers.

Loki would never be cold again. So long as Thor’s love warms him.

Thor’s eyes close slowly. Loki can tell that he is happy knowing Loki is allowing him in. Allowing the tender touches, the smiles, that he had always wanted to give.

Loki will take what he can get, hoard it for the centuries ahead of him. He knows he will leave. He knows he can stay warm without ripping it from Thor through orgasm. He knows Thor’s love will stay with him always, nestled safely behind his sternum, spreading tendrils of heat.

He will leave. It is what he does.

Part of him now also knows that he will always come back.