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Though Thor knocks on the wood lightly, the sound echoes, reverberating down the length of the hallway he stands within.

“Brother,” he calls through the door, leaning his weight on its frame. “I know you are there for this is the last place left in Asgard I have to check.”

There’s a long pause where Thor wonders how great his chances of being ignored again are if he knocks once more, but then the door opens by itself, revealing the darkened space inside. Thor pushes it wider, quickly stepping through before his brother changes his mind, and shuts it behind him. He finds Loki hunched over his desk, only a single light illuminating the surface he fluidly scratches his quill over. It’s a large tome in front of him and he seems to be making notes in its margins, something he’s seen his brother do a thousand times before.

“You reek,” Loki says without looking up. “Haven’t I told you to bathe before you decide to grace me with your presence?”

Thor surreptitiously sniffs at his shoulder, wincing when the smell of his sweat is as strong as Loki makes it out to be.

“I was sparring with Sif; you know how that goes.”

Loki dips his quill into a pot of ink and continues writing.

“Yes, usually with you losing and ending up with far more tension than you started with, which I gather is why you’re here. You will have to find release somewhere else tonight, Thor, for I am busy.”

Thor cannot help but step closer, peering over his brother’s shoulder for just a second before Loki can catch him snooping.

“I have said nothing of the sort.”

Loki sighs and finally looks up, glancing back at Thor with an expression Thor has been on the receiving end of many times before.

“You never need to, Thor; it is always written so clearly in the way you hold yourself. That will be your downfall, I know it.”

Thor sees no reason to continue the façade with his brother seeing so clearly through it. He runs his fingers through Loki’s hair at the nape of his neck, the dark strands curling around his knuckles, and rubs his thumb across the first few knots of his spine.

“I am sure you have been here since supper, Loki; you must need a well deserved break.”

Loki shrugs his hand away, resuming writing once more, but this time with set determination clear in his hunched shoulders.

“I am fine. I would prefer it if you left,” he pauses, obviously to garner Thor’s attention, though he should know he already has it completely. “And take that stench with you.”

Thor lets out a rumbling laugh, but doesn’t move away. Loki scoffs in the back of his throat and turns a page of his book, smoothing his palm flat over it before beginning to write once more. Thor bends at the waist, curling his fingers around the back of Loki’s chair and he leans in closer, his nose barely grazing Loki’s hair.

“I am busy,” is Loki’s only reply as he shifts away from Thor’s touch.

“It is unlike you to deny me, brother,” he murmurs, lips dangerously close to Loki’s neck.

“It is unlike you to follow orders, so I suppose nothing has changed.”

“You never gave orders, only said you were otherwise occupied. We may work around that if you’d rather.”

As he says it, his hands drop to Loki’s lap, rucking up his tunic in order to reach the fastenings of his trousers.

“Thor,” Loki warns, though Thor chooses to ignore him, fingers already tugging and loosening the lacing between Loki’s legs. Loki glances over his shoulder, until he seems to realise Thor has no intention of stopping, at which point, he sighs heavily and then doesn’t respond at all, too busy scribbling notes upon the paper in front of him again. Thor hides his smile and doesn’t for one minute think it’s anything but a challenge. He reaches beyond the layers of Loki’s clothes, pulling his soft cock out into his palm, tracing his fingers gently over it. Loki shifts minutely, but his face is expressionless, betraying no hint of his feelings.

Thor keeps his touches soft, the way he gives himself pleasure when he’s happily drunk on mead with all the time in the world. Loki continues writing, but the way his cock twitches against Thor’s fingers gives him completely away. Nevertheless, he maintains his cool, collected appearance, even as Thor gently squeezes the head of him, a wonderful shade of pink slowly spreading a healthy flush down its length as Loki begins to harden.

Thor’s other hand slides down between the soft skin of his thighs, fingertips pressing behind Loki’s sac, rubbing tantalisingly. He knows Loki will not be able to ignore him much longer for he has seen Loki in the deepest throes of passion and has learned bit by bit how to get him there, to the point where his mouth – usually overflowing with lies – opens, nothing slipping past his tongue except quiet breaths; where his back, slick with sweat, arches and Thor’s hand fits perfectly against the curve of his spine. He has seen it all, taken everything his brother has to offer, and as sly as Loki may think himself, Thor knows his tricks, has seen them in the years that passed them during childhood. No one can have a brother like Loki without picking up a few of his qualities for their own.

“Thor, go back to your room.”

Thor knows Loki doesn’t mean a word; he would use his magic if he did, he would force Thor to leave without even asking first. He tightens his grip, still stroking slowly, his knuckles and wrist aching so perfectly, while Loki continues playing the role of nonchalant brother. It is not the way he pictured this encounter to be, but it’s everything he expects from Loki, God of Mischief.

He shifts his other hand back further, fingers only just grazing the tight pucker of Loki’s entrance, but it finally draws a reaction as Loki’s thighs part. It is the barest of movements, but Thor knows it happens because suddenly he finds it easier to move his hand, to slip one, dry fingertip inside Loki. His trousers are taut around his hips, but not enough for the fabric to dig into his soft, pale skin, not enough to prove he wants it, that Thor’s hand will make him stoop to anything more than a barely-there spreading of his legs.

Loki is seated at a strange angle, Thor’s hand keeping him from sitting flat upon the wooden chair, but he remains diligently taking notes. Peering over Loki’s shoulder, Thor has the minute pleasure of seeing the slowly deteriorating state of his script, the way some words have inkblots at their beginning or end, revealing Loki’s silent lack of control. He doesn’t comment, but the way Loki readjusts his grip on the quill tells Thor that he already knows.

He waits for Loki to press the nib to paper before circling his thumb around the leaking head of Loki’s cock, turning words into smudges of dark ink, completely illegible, more than possibly ruining the page. Loki shifts, elbow shooting back and hitting Thor with enough force for him to know it wasn’t accidental, before he hovers his palm over the mess and clears it with a few whispered syllables of magic.

“You are ruining my work, Thor. I advise you to leave before you find yourself in a mess no one will be able to clear up.”

Thor doesn’t move away, not even an inch; instead, he presses closer, his chest flush against the back of Loki’s chair, feeling the heat of Loki’s body between each slat of wood. His mouth brushes the harsh line of Loki’s jaw, the skin only faintly rough with prickling hair, making his lips tingle, and he pushes the tip of his nose into the curves of Loki’s ear, breathing warmly into it.

“Give up, brother; you are fighting a losing cause.” Loki tilts his head away, but Thor only waits a moment before pressing back in. “What if I told you everything I might do to you?”

His voice lowers as he says it, and from as close as he is, he hears the wet noise of Loki swallowing the exact moment it happens.

“Unless it involves you leaving me in peace, I do not wish to hear it.”

Thor pushes his smile against Loki’s throat, teeth nipping a bruise onto his skin in response.

“What if it involves me taking you into my mouth right here? I’m sure you could continue your work and it would only take a moment.”

Loki turns his head sharply, shooting him a dark look at the insult, and Thor has to really try to keep from laughing. His brother has far too many buttons for him to press. Loki makes a point to shift his hips, letting the finger Thor has inside him slip out as he reaches over for another book, flipping through the pages quickly as though to cross-reference information. He closes it with a loud snap not a moment later and Thor rather thinks it was only to make a point; Loki has more than likely already read both books ten times over and could recite their words verbatim; he does it to distance them.

Thor cannot help but pull his free hand out of Loki’s clothes, curling his palm over his warm hip, holding him in place as he drags his lips to the curve of Loki’s neck. He can feel the tension under his mouth, each and every tilt of Loki’s head, the movement of his skin as he leans almost imperceptibly into Thor’s touch. The fingers wrapped tight around Loki’s cock never falter, stroking, drawing the first drops of pre-come to the tip where they stick to Thor’s knuckles, the warm wetness quickly cooling.

“It is time for a break,” Thor presses, but Loki tips his chin up, his hand never once stopping from writing. Thor digs his teeth sharply into Loki’s clavicle, his tongue laving over the indents he leaves behind when he pulls away. Loki pulls the collar of his tunic back into place, covering the mark without even glancing at it or making a noise of response. Thor doesn’t know whether to laugh at the situation or hit his brother in frustration.

Instead he does neither; he draws away, shifting around Loki’s chair in order to kneel down and wedge himself under the desk. Loki clears his throat, his amusement clear when Thor accidentally knocks his head against the wood, but Thor manages to fit. Loki fights against him as he pushes his knees apart; his strength impressive, but not enough as Thor tugs his trousers down over Loki’s bare feet and throws them into the small space behind him. He trails his fingers slowly along the inside of Loki’s thighs, watching how his cock twitches two or three times before he wraps a hand around it once more.

Loki stops writing, staring down at Thor with a dark, warning gaze, but Thor holds his eyes, never breaking contact as he leans forward and drags his tongue slowly behind Loki’s heavy sac. Loki’s jaw clenches, but his expression never changes, even as Thor slides his lips slowly up Loki’s length, tongue nowhere near as warm as the skin under it, and takes him into his mouth. He lets him slip all the way to the back of his throat, almost its entirety, and pauses to let his brother feel how wet and hot it must be around him. Loki twitches, cockhead nudging his palate before Thor grins around him, lips stretching wide and tight.

He pulls back, feeling the slow drag of Loki from his mouth, before he flicks his tongue once around the tip then lets him slide all the way back into the heat. Without looking over his shoulder, he can hear the way Loki’s writing intermittently stops and starts, as though not focussed enough to continue, and Thor can feel Loki’s resolve breaking in his bones. He pushes down further, until he’s fighting the urge to pull away, the feeling of choking rising in his chest, but he remains with his nose pressed into the trimmed, tight curls over Loki’s groin. He swallows once around him and there’s a loud click, which is possibly the snapping of Loki’s quill, but he doesn’t check, Loki’s soft swear enough to tell him he’s right.

There’s the sound of drawers opening one after the other, Loki’s body folding over him as he rummages around, obviously looking for something else to write with. Thor pulls back, nudging his lips against his brother’s cock, letting his breath blow over him.

“Why not use magic?” he suggests and he feels Loki pause, the obviousness of Thor’s idea stalling him, as though only just realising how much Thor has managed to distract him. Thor keeps his smile to himself, afraid Loki’s pride will send him away, and attempts to take him back into his mouth. However, fingers thread into his hair – though he can hear Loki shuffling papers above him and realises it must be a spell – holding him at bay until Loki finally stops and Thor hears the gentle clink of the ink pot’s lid falling into place.

Loki’s spell continues to hold him, even as he slides his chair back and stands to his full height. He stretches, arms lifting to the ceiling as his back pops quietly, then beckons Thor out, invisible fingers leaving before Thor can speak. As Thor struggles to free himself from the small space, he watches his brother slip his tunic gracefully over his head, draping it across the soft cushions of the stretched seat at the foot of his bed. Thor lifts himself up, muscles complaining only slightly, and as he raises his fingers to begin unfastening his own clothes, they suddenly vanish, reappearing in a folded, neat pile by his feet.

When he finds himself flat on his back, the silky duvet of Loki’s bed underneath him, he knows Loki has had enough of games, and he is more than happy to let Loki slide up and straddle his waist. His hands find their way to Loki’s hips almost of their own accord, thumbs stroking over smooth skin that he wants nothing more than to press his mouth against.

“Let me prepare you, brother,” Thor murmurs, watching the way Loki’s chest rises and falls with each staggered breath. Instead of replying, Loki presses his lips to his own fingertips, a muttered spell all he needs to slick them wetly, making them shine with an oily substance in the low light.

Before Thor can voice a complaint, his arms raise by an invisible touch, stopping only when they are pressed against Loki’s pillows, the hold still firm around his wrists, stopping him from doing anything more than watch his brother. If Loki is at all ashamed by his nakedness, it does not show as he widens his kneeling stance and slips his hand between his legs, fingers disappearing where Thor cannot see. His brother cants his hips, rocking down onto his own fingers, the emanating wet noises driving Thor half-wild with need.

“Loki, let me feel you,” he breathes, voice deeper than he expects it to be, but Loki meets his eyes, face far more expressionless than it should be with his fingers inside himself, and says nothing. Thor raises his hips, lifting part of Loki’s weight in his attempt to gain pressure where he wants it, but Loki doesn’t change his slow pace as he pleasures himself, even as he loses his balance briefly, rocking back, Thor’s cock sliding easily between his cheeks before he sits forward again. He scowls and fights against Loki’s magic, to which Loki lets out a sharp laugh.

“You can tease all you want, but when you are at its hand, you cannot allow it?”

“You are insufferable.”

“It is you who came to me, Thor, remember that. You know the sort of person I am.”

Thor struggles again, muscles tensing in his attempt, but if anything, the magic only holds tighter. He watches the way Loki’s arm flexes with each movement and he can hear nothing but the slick sounds of his fingers slipping in and out of his body; eventually Loki lets out a sigh and pulls his hand away, pressing wet fingers against Thor’s chest as he holds his weight up, glancing down between his legs. With his free hand, he grips Thor’s cock tightly, lining it up with his entrance, and pushing down slowly, the head sliding smoothly inside. He pauses and Thor digs his nails into his own palms, holding back from spilling too soon.

“Loki, please,” he rumbles, fingers twitching with want to curl around Loki’s waist and pull him down further.

Loki waits a moment more, until Thor’s sure he’s doing it on purpose, before he sinks lower, inch after inch of Thor’s warm length filling him. When he reaches its base, he pauses again, but Thor knows it’s for Loki’s own benefit, for he has bedded his brother many times before and during every instance he’s struggled with Thor’s width. Loki’s stretched so tightly around him, he cannot imagine how he must feel, but Loki raises himself up slightly and fingers brush Thor’s cock, momentarily touching where he’s pressing into Loki. His skin suddenly cools and as Loki slides down easily, he understands he’s slicked him once more.

After that, Loki’s movements are swift and measured, taking all he wants and giving only what he seems to deem necessary. The ease of Loki rising and falling in his lap takes Thor’s breath away; the way his cock bounces gently with every downward slap against Thor’s thighs, how his slim fingers dig into the spaces between Thor’s ribs, holding almost painfully onto him. Thor wants nothing more than to slip one hand free of Loki’s magic to curl his palm around Loki’s face and stroke his high cheekbone with his thumb.

“Brother, you are beautiful,” Thor admits without shame, but Loki curls a lip up despite the red tinge across his cheeks.

“Your flattery will get you nowhere.”

Regardless, Loki seems to move faster, the rolling of his hips holding more intent than before as Loki changes the angle and lets out quiet breaths with every slide of Thor inside him. Thor feels the way Loki begins to tense, his thighs pinching tighter against his waist, fingernails pressing marks into Thor’s skin, and he knows his brother is slowly falling apart. Having teased him for so long already, Thor is not at all surprised, but he is by his own pleasure wrapping around his mind, fogging it and keeping him from thinking rationally. He has never been one to be able to resist his brother, though, and the way his stomach flips as Loki tightens around him briefly reveals that he has been granted no reprieve.

He bites his own lip, watching as Loki’s body twitches above him, writhing in unadulterated need as he fills himself with Thor’s length time and time again. As Loki slides upwards, Thor spreads his own legs further apart, sending Loki off balance as he shifts down, letting him drop his full weight onto Thor’s hips, drawing matching moans from both of them.

Thor can feel his pleasure building low in his groin, his sac drawing tightly against his body as Loki begins to lose rhythm atop him. Loki lets his head roll back, eyes shut and wet lips barely parted while he hums low in his throat, every part of him so controlled and still Thor almost believes him to be made of clay. It’s with a graceful arch of his back that Loki pushes himself down as far as he can and spends himself in multiple warm strands across Thor’s body without ever touching himself. He rolls his hips through his pleasure, Thor’s cock hardly moving inside him, but Thor cannot ignore the feeling of Loki’s muscles squeezing around him. He attempts to thrust up instead, but Loki’s magic moves to his hips, pinning him down there as well, while Loki rests a moment, sitting pleasantly heavy on Thor’s waist.

Thor mumbles a complaint, his need still present, despite the way Loki chooses to ignore it, but it’s with a quiet noise that Loki pulls himself off of Thor’s body and slides over the end of the bed to stand at Thor’s feet. He reaches for his tunic, pulling it back on and letting the hem fall to rest halfway down his thighs.

“Loki,” Thor says, unknowing if it’s a question or a threat. His brother shoots him a quick glance, his face schooled to reveal nothing, before he turns away and walks back to his desk to sit in front of it once more. He flips open his text to where he left off and begins writing again.

“Loki!”

“Perhaps next time,” Loki begins, voice slow and half-distracted, as though Thor isn’t worth his time, “you’ll pay attention to my requests.”

“You cannot leave me like this.”

“I can leave you any way I please, Thor, and it would serve you well to remember that.”

Thor struggles, harder than ever, body stretching, but never lifting off the bed, and despite all his strength, he finds himself unable to defeat Loki’s magic.

“Loki!” he repeats, but his brother just continues his note-taking, never taking his eyes from his text. His thigh cramps in his attempts to twist out of the hold, but he doesn’t give Loki the satisfaction of yelling out his pain, content to just grit his teeth instead. His cock is reddened, looking far less painful than it feels, still slicked with oil and leaking pre-come, every once in a while twitching feebly in need of touch. He swallows and draws in a calming breath before exhaling slowly.

“What is it you want, brother? You want me to beg? To let you drag my name through the mud?”

Loki finally pauses, turning in his seat slightly.

“No,” he says immediately, setting his quill down without looking. “I was busy. I told you and you failed to listen.”

“I am sorry.”

“Yes, until the next time, I am sure.”

Loki sighs as though tired of rationalising his behaviour then snaps his fingers quietly. At once, Thor feels invisible hands sliding up and down his thighs, rubbing up to his hips and then back down again. When they finally wrap around Thor’s cock, stroking him fast and easy, he cannot help the noise which escapes his lips. Still unable to move his arms and hips, Thor settles for digging his shoulders into the soft, silken bedcovers below, opening his mouth wide in a silent yell as he comes over himself. His orgasm seems to stretch on forever as pulse after pulse of pleasure rolls through him, down from his head, tingling over his toes and the balls of his feet. His chest heaves and his jaw clicks as he finally shuts his mouth, teeth tapping together, tongue only just out of the way. He whispers quiet gratitude until Loki’s magic finally falls away, releasing him and letting him bring aching arms back down to his sides.

“Get out,” Loki orders though his voice is soft. “I am busy.”

Thor doesn’t move, unsuccessfully attempting to catch his breath, limbs too heavy with exhaustion to do more than lie still. He tilts his chin down, glancing at Loki from down the length of his own body and catches his eye.

“Are you not thankful for the break?”

With a crack of Loki’s magic, Thor finds himself dressed and on the other side of his brother’s shut door. The suddenness of everything makes his stomach roll, but he still tries the handle, turning it and finding the door locked. He will admit he was pushing his luck, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing his mouth close to the wood, hands braced on the frame as he leans forward.

“Do not work too hard, brother,” he calls out, mouth curled into a smirk. Loki’s reply comes in the form of Thor blinking and suddenly finding himself miles away, deep in the heart of an Asgardian forest, thick vines curling around his ankles where he stands. He lets out a loud crack of laughter, one that fills the air like thunder, before he begins his trek back to the palace.

All is not lost, he thinks, stepping through undergrowth he’s seen many times before. At least by the time he returns, Loki will be in need of another break.