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Strength In Warm Hands

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Loki has loved Thor’s hands for as long as he can remember.

 

When he was little, still innocent and naïve and utterly guileless, he liked holding onto those golden hands. He liked the warmth that wrapped around his lithe fingers, liked the way that Thor’s touch exuded protection and love, and he loved it when he knew that Thor would hold no one else’s hand but his. He loved how Thor would protect him and wrap him in a strong embrace with those warm hands around his shoulders. The way that those hands brushed the hair away from his face, or wiped away the tears in his eyes, or held him close as he fell asleep; he loves it still, though now he is forced to hide it.

 

When he is in the cusp of adulthood, he quickly realizes that Thor’s hands have grown larger than his.

 

Thor no longer holds his hand as often as he did when they were younger, but he does it still when no one is looking. Loki is swift to understand that it is because their gestures of affection are not the norm in their age, so he accepts it. It hurts him, but he accepts it.

 

Thor does not like it either, so Loki takes comfort in that. Even if Loki notices that they are slowly drifting away from each other, even if Thor wishes more to indulge himself in violence and Loki in readings, even if Thor finds other friends like the Warriors Three and Lady Sif and Loki remains alone at a distance, even if Thor becomes more and more affectionate with other people and Loki can only watch it with an ache in his heart, he doesn’t make it seem like he minds.

 

It is Loki that Thor goes to whenever evening comes, anyway. No one else knows how it is that Thor holds Loki’s hands as though seeking some comfort in them, though Loki can’t understand why because his own hands are always cold and so small. Loki is no protector or warrior, he is not brave, but Thor seeks solace from him either way.

 

When Thor first holds Mjölnir in his hands, Loki notices a clenching feeling in his stomach and in his chest.

 

Watching those thick fingers wrapping themselves one by one onto the handle of the mighty hammer, Loki can feel something heat within him. He sees the tenseness in Thor’s hands as he shouts in victory at finally acquiring the relic, and Loki knows that Thor is holding very tightly onto it as though it might break if it falls. The people of Asgard cheer and compliment Thor on his strength, they congratulate him for obtaining such a mighty artifact, but Loki sees none of that. He can feel the power of Mjölnir reaching out to him, the magic within it calling to his own inner magic, but that is not what grabs his attention.

 

It is the way that Thor handles the artifact with gentleness as though it is something precious, and wielding it with such great force at the same time as though grasping inwardly the power of the hammer itself; that is what Loki sees. He watches it all silently from the sidelines, and though he is happy for his brother, he does not wish to talk to him just yet. Thor is disappointed when Loki leaves with the excuse of “wishing to rest,” though his attention is easily taken again by the women at his side. (Loki pushes away the thoughts that come to him of Thor holding him in the same way, those large hands grasping his shoulders and pushing him down to the cold marble floor as long fingers play along his naked skin. It isn’t right. They are brothers, and such abominable thoughts would cost him his life.)

 

When they are older and both knowledgeable of Loki’s true heritage, Loki comes to accept how he feels about Thor.

 

But still, he seeks out others like Angrboða with whom he is father to Hel, Fenrir, and Jörmungandr; Sigyn with whom he fathers Nari, and Svaðilfari with whom he births Sleipnir. With each new child he is given, he becomes more embittered as Odin takes them all away from him. His feelings for Thor become tainted with lust at his own bitterness yet he doesn’t mind, because Thor will never have to know. He is already too pained to try and seek anyone else after losing almost all of his precious children, and hoping for a love that will never be is more painful than anything else.

 

He knows that Thor is dismayed with him at his blatant lack of satisfaction when it came to bedding men and women. He doesn’t care anymore. What would it matter if Thor were ashamed of him? Asgard itself could not even believe in him; what would it matter if one other god added to that?

 

Yet, even with his thriving odium for the god of thunder, he still finds himself lying on his bed with a hand wrapped around his manhood and imagining Thor’s hands on him. He fantasizes about being prepared with thick fingers slowly pushing their way inside him and opening him up until he becomes nothing more than a whining mess, fantasizes about those large hands gripping him by the waist and bruising him as he is taken over and over again. He wants that pain from Thor, he wants to know that feeling of being filled and sated by the god of thunder himself as told in stories by the ladies of their court; he wants everything. But wanting everything of Thor is too much, Loki knows, so he’ll have to settle for sating his lust with him. Thor is easy enough to manipulate, anyway.

 

He tries everything to seduce Thor. He shape shifts into a woman, though Thor sees through it and rejects his offers. He inebriates Thor (and himself) with mead and offers once more, though Thor rejects him again. He creeps into Thor’s chambers while he isn’t there and divests himself of his clothing, sliding under the sheets of Thor’s bed and waiting patiently for the man himself to return. Yet, when he feigns sleep once Thor is back, Thor only brushes away his hair and leaves him there.

 

He’s already given up when Thor comes to him, his body tired after all the magic he’d used up and eyes teary after being completely fed up with Thor’s stubbornness.  He is angry at Thor, even going so far as to try and shove him away. Keyword being: try. Thor doesn’t leave him alone even with his threats and futile attempts at kicking or punching him. Instead, Thor embraces him. Loki struggles even with those large hands holding him close, but he tires soon enough, his usual fire burning out as he slumps forward into Thor’s chest and cries. Thor murmurs softly to him as he would when they were little and, all of a sudden, Loki feels so much smaller. Within Thor’s strong embrace he is weak, trembling and sobbing and utterly pathetic. But he’s too exhausted to struggle anew, only wanting to live in Thor’s warmth for as long as he can.

 

But Thor pulls away and Loki loses some of that warmth. He becomes distracted, mind far-off as he tries to figure out how to get more of that warmth back. He doesn’t even notice that Thor’s speaking until he feels the press of dry lips on his; he snaps out of his daze quickly, green eyes widening as he looks up at Thor in bemusement.

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor murmurs with a crooked smile, “I- I didn’t mean to kiss you out of the blue like that, brother. It’s just, you were crying, and…”

 

His weakness is my tears? Loki asks to himself in his head with incredulity as Thor trails off. But he lets that thought go for a while in favor of watching as Thor stumbles with his words, his long fingers twiddling idly in nervousness.

 

He is silenced instantly when Loki moves swiftly forward to capture his lips again. Loki is sure that Thor will go back to being cold with him [ironically enough] once he pulls away, but he doesn’t get the chance to escape when Thor suddenly pulls him down for another passionate kiss.

 

It’s a flash of clothes being ripped and thrown away and messy kisses when Loki suddenly realizes that he’s on the bed and naked. Not that Thor isn’t naked himself, but the gravity of the situation only dawns on him when Thor suddenly flips him over onto his stomach and he feels something wet dripping down his thighs.

 

“Thor?” Loki murmurs softly, trying to crane his head back to see what Thor is doing.

 

“Shh, Loki,” Thor mumbles and the wetness suddenly reaches up to his rear, fingers dancing along the line of his back and moving lower and lower until Loki can feel himself tensing in anticipation. He yelps when he feels the hard slap across his rear, eyes going wide in surprise that Thor would actually have the audacity to do that to him. “I’ll make it feel good,” Thor whispers with a chuckle in his voice.

 

Loki almost, almost, pulls away in irritation at how Thor is treating him, but Thor slaps him across the back again and he realizes, incredulously, that the sound that comes out of his mouth is a moan. Thor himself is surprised at the sound, his wide hands rubbing softly at the redness that blooms on Loki’s skin. Loki reddens at the thought of being so turned on by such violence, but he doesn’t stop Thor when he does it again, even going so far as to moan for him just to let him know that he likes it.

 

“You are a strange one, brother,” Thor murmurs as he soothes away the sting of his blows with warm hands. Loki stays silent, not wishing to indulge Thor any further. Thor pays no mind to it and slicks his fingers with oil quietly, watching Loki writhe beneath him with heated eyes.

 

Loki gasps and pushes his hips back when feels a thick finger nudging its way inside him, though he does so involuntarily. It’s the feeling of long and rough fingers sliding inside of him, teasing him and probing him that reminds him how much he wants Thor’s hands on him. He wants to beg, moan, cry out, “I want more,” but he doesn’t want to shame himself.

 

Thor groans softly in appreciation at the sight of Loki practically fucking himself on his fingers, though he lets it go no further when he grabs Loki’s waist and stills him. Thor knows that it is a whine that escapes the trickster’s mouth when he is suddenly stopped, though he ignores it, for his own sake. Hearing any more of the sounds from his brother’s mouth might just end him, and he hasn’t even begun yet.

 

“Calm down,” Thor murmurs as he pushes another finger in, further opening Loki up to him, “we have all the time in the world.”

 

Loki groans at the ministrations, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance that Thor is treating him so gently. He wants those hands treating him roughly, bruising him and making him ache for more; not like this. It’s like Thor sees him as some sort of maiden, something fragile.

 

“I swear to Valhalla I will turn you into a slug if you do not move any faster,” Loki hisses out when Thor adds another finger slowly to his preparation.

 

Thor’s blue eyes flash with something dark at the threat. “As you wish,” Thor says huskily, roughly pulling out his fingers and thrusting them back inside with enough force to make Loki moan again. Thor repeats the action with growing arousal, his blue eyes roaming around Loki’s form. Loki struggles to keep still, his eyes clenched shut with his hands fisted into the sheets. It feels good, too good, when Thor fills him with those thick fingers and stretches him open, and he knows that Thor’s other hand on his hip is bruising him and he’ll be in pain tomorrow and it’s delicious.

 

It could go on and on like this, Thor’s fingers stretching him open and thrusting inside him, and Loki would not mind. He has longed for those hands touching him in wicked ways and now that they are, he doesn’t mind it going on forever. He could get his pleasure just from this, the feeling of Thor’s rough fingers pressing inside him and Thor’s large hand bruising his waist to keep him still.

 

But Thor doesn’t want that. Instead he takes his fingers out (Loki tries his hardest not to whine at the loss of contact), pours some oil into his hands and rubs it along his manhood, nudging the head of it at Loki’s puckered entrance and thrusting in without warning until Loki gives out a strangled moan in surprise. “Y-you’re…”

 

Loki doesn’t have to look to know that Thor is grinning widely at him. “I’ve been told. Are you all right?” Thor soothes the skin of his rear with rough hands, tracing at the redness left there by his previous blows.  Loki closes his eyes and tries to feel more of those hands on him, even going so far as to reach out behind him and grabbing Thor’s wrist. Thor jolts at the touch, blue eyes looking curiously at Loki. “Brother?”

 

“Move,” Loki commands with his head bowed into the bed, his other hand folded in front of him to support him. “I am no maiden.” He lets Thor see a sliver of his smirk when he moves Thor’s wrist upward to grip him by the waist. “Fuck me, brother. Make me yours.” He murmurs silkily.

 

Thor stares at him in disbelief before nodding, his thick fingers embedding into Loki’s skin as he thrusts his hips forward. Loki groans softly at the motions, moving his hips back and rolling them just as Thor moves forward. The increase of pleasure is instantaneous and he cries out, green eyes clenching closed as Thor rubs against something within him. Thor groans back at the sudden tightening of Loki’s walls around him, pushing forward harder with every roll of Loki’s hips into his.

 

It goes on for what seems to be eternity, Loki’s hands clenched into the bed sheet with his upper body already lowered from the overload of pleasure. His hips are jutted up under Thor’s tight grip, the continual pounding of Thor’s cock within him bringing him closer and closer to climax. “Th-Thor,” Loki moans as he presses his forehead into the bed with eyes clenched shut, “Touch me, please.”

 

“No,” Thor murmurs huskily before thrusting harder into Loki’s hips. Loki gasps breathily at the roughness of it, eyes opening half-way as he tries to make sense of his surroundings.  “I can bring you to pleasure with just this,” Thor emphasizes the word with a roll of his hips and Loki groans, “my brother.”

 

“You are- ah,” Loki groans as he feels his loins tightening even further with heat, “insufferable, brother.” Thor makes no reply, only smirking as he gives another hard thrust into Loki until the trickster himself comes undone, his green eyes closing and clenching shut as his mouth opens into a silent scream. His body convulses and his back arches even with Thor’s hold on him until he is spent, body slowly getting off from its high as he slumps into the dirtied sheets of the bed.

 

Thor comes just as Loki’s inner walls tighten around him, his eyes clenching shut as his erratic thrusts slow down into one long push. Loki shudders at the feeling of Thor’s seed filling him, fingers clenching reflexively on the sheets as he remains lying on the bed. “That is disgusting, Thor.”

 

Thor laughs, a deep mellow laugh as he pulls out slowly from Loki and lies down beside him on his back. “You liked it, brother.”

 

Loki shakes his head, green eyes glinting with mischief as he looks upon his brother. “Of course.”

 

He has already gotten what he wants, anyway.