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Words. Without them he was nothing. Or, so everyone thought.

His brother knew better.

Silver tongue trapped, imprisoned by the stitches sewn through his lips. He had shuddered each time the needle passed through, top then bottom, twine tugged tight, sealing inside him all these twisted words he needed to speak.

But Thor knew.

Maybe that gave them reason enough to retreat to his bedchamber, alone, but together in their shared silence.

He shoved Thor down onto the bed, then slipped astride him. Hovering there, barely touching, savoring the heat building between them, he looked down. Thor stared up at his mouth, at his beauty now defaced by this affront to his dignity. He leaned closer, and Thor’s eyes softened to a blank gaze as if mesmerized by Loki’s unspoken words, hearing them without sound.

I love you.

I hate you.

I am going to fuck you.

You are going to fuck me.

Together we will shatter this world.

He lowered his body, easing himself down onto Thor’s lap. Between them the smoldering heat flared, melting the edges of frost forever gripping him and loosening the restraint he kept clamped always over his desire. The ache in his groin built until his cock, fully aroused, strained for freedom. Beneath him, his brother too stirred, growing erect against him.

Now Thor’s gaze shifted, lifting from the horror of his mouth, to his eyes.

“Loki...” He paused, his voice quaking, tiny tremors running through his body.

You want this.

“We cannot.”

You want me.

“No.”

You have always wanted me.

“This is wrong.”

I have always wanted you.

Inside him churned all the years of envy, of desire, of rejection, of loneliness, every tangled emotion he ever felt for Thor.

Always.

“Loki...”

He vanished their clothes.

Take me.

Growling, Thor reached up, clenching a fist in his hair and dragging their faces together.

But there could be no kiss. No lips parting, no tongues meeting. Stitches denied them the initial dance of mating.

Had he been able, Loki would have smiled at the irony of being forbidden this one expression of mutual desire he had always yearned for.

But Thor narrowed his eyes, tightening the grip in Loki’s hair until all amusement faded away. The pain scorched through him, racing to his erection. Thor grabbed it with his other hand and stroked hard, twice. Pleasure and pain mingled in a union more glorious than any lost kiss could have been.

He squirmed, pushing into his brother’s hand.

Thor released him, as if disgusted, but then wrenched him around and shoved his face down into the bed.

Take me.

A tiny spell, mentally chanted, provided his brother with the means to prepare him. Before he even finished closing off the spell, he felt Thor slide an oiled finger up between his legs, then thrust it inside him. The other hand gripped the back of his neck, and held his face pressed into the bed.

Hating that he could not see, Loki twisted, struggling to turn. But Thor’s grip was merciless. So too his finger, first one, then two, fucking Loki hard. Then, as Loki began to push back, taking him deep, he jerked his fingers out.

No!

Slowly, more carefully that Loki wanted, Thor slid his cock in. The oil eased his passage, but he proved far thicker than Loki could effortlessly take.

Loki cared nothing for the pain, and instead welcomed it, pushing back. He heard himself moan, the pathetic, begging sound muted by the stitches and the bed beneath his face.

Thor grasped his hip with one hand, the other still clenched around the back of his neck, fingers digging into him, adding to the pain. Then he started fucking him. Long, deep thrusts, shoving him farther into the bed, stealing away all thought but pleasure.

More. Harder. Faster. Deeper.

Unable to open his mouth, to gasp for deep breaths, he breathed through his nose, desperate for air. Desperate.

More.

Through it all, he still wanted to see his brother, watch his face, his eyes while finally they gave in to each other.

Cannot bear to look into my eyes while you are fucking me?

Too much shame and guilt?

Face down still, he dug his nails into the bed, clawing at the sheets, tears blinding him.

Cries of need, of anger, of pleasure converged in his throat, a scream rising up into his mouth. Pushing. Pressing against his lips.

The stitches loosened, his shriek slipping through the slight gap.

Thor stilled.

Don’t stop.

Don’t ever stop.

But look at me...

Please?

Suddenly, Thor pulled out.

Before Loki could form any protest behind the stitches, Thor flipped him onto his back, wrapped one hand behind each knee, spreading his legs open, then again plunged inside him.

Only now they stared into each other’s eyes.

Seeing unveiled lust firing the clear blue into something dark and fractured, Loki screamed again.

Stressed by the intensity of his scream backed by the wild snarl of emotions now exploding inside him, the stitches pulled. Then tore. Then ripped free.

Blood spattered across his chest, spraying droplets over Thor’s face. It dripped from his golden hair, falling down like red tears spilling over Loki’s pale skin.

Thor paused deep inside him, panting. He clutched one thigh, fingers digging, surely leaving bruises while keeping Loki’s legs spread. The other hand he held trembling over Loki’s face, ghosting over the fresh wounds, murmuring his concern.

But Loki raked his nails down Thor’s back, then dug them into his ass, urging him on.

Fuck me!

The agony of his shredded lips paled before the onslaught of pleasure. Consumed by his brother. Taken apart, every last thought burned away to nothing, leaving only raw need.

Too quickly they both found release. Loki climaxed first, arching into his brother’s grasp, moaning through bloodied lips, taking Thor with him. And Thor forced himself deep, shaking, coming, while their lips met. Oblivious to the burning pain of his ragged wounds, Loki submitted. They kissed through the final darkening haze of orgasm until both collapsed in each other’s arms, fully spent.

Thor...

Torn flesh. Raw. Lips seeping red.

But Thor’s gentle touch dabbing away the blood soothed the lingering pain.

“Speak,” Thor whispered.

He shook his head, while looking into his brother’s eyes. There he found words Thor never would give voice to. And those unspoken words drove exquisite pain through his heart.

“Loki?”

Again, he shook his head, now closing his eyes. He tucked his face against Thor’s neck, willing for this brief moment to allow silence speak the words for him.