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to the ruler and the killer, baby

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There is something glorious in breaking Thor – in having his fingers scrabble for purchase against the sheets as his hips fuck eagerly into his brother, the gold of his hair spilling over his shoulders, as beautiful as can be. There is something wonderful in knowing that Loki, sly, creeping Loki, can be the thing that Thor wants and can never have – occasionally, of course. Not like now, with Thor’s cock inside of him as he rides his brother, milking it for all it’s worth, a slick smile on his lips.

When Loki shoves down, impaling himself even more perfectly than before, Thor bares his teeth and hisses in want – a hand on the thin waist, his fingerprint bruises something Loki will mull over later, remembering how it felt, what is was like, to own something that he can never have if only for a few hours.

He fucks himself on his brother’s cock hard and fast now, twisting his hips, feeling the pleasure spark at the base of his spine, a hot heady feeling like power and possession slipping under his skin.

Eventually, Thor must come, and he will, and Loki will savour the feeling of a twitching prick in him, coating his insides in some secret mark of mine mine mine.

Yes, Loki thinks, yours as your are mine, an unending ouroboros of you consuming me in fire and I having you in ice and the long endless circle of death and destruction that will follow wherever we go – Thor bucks upwards and Loki tightens his entrance, snapping his hips back down – feeling the hot pleasure wash over him as his thoughts spiral deliriously – but remember, o brother of mine, remember, that I will die at your hands and your hands only – as you will mine – and Thor comes.

His brother’s orgasm surges up like a spark of lightning – Loki’s spine a conduit, his mouth an outlet, and he says Thor’s name like a prayer at the altar of desire and chaos. Thor’s fingers are tattoos on his hips as Loki himself rocks down, feeling Thor’s cock spend itself, and Loki comes too – without a touch, because power and control is a much better stimulator than a hand.

When they come down, slow and easy, Loki slides off his brother’s lap, straddling his knees as he goes down – sleek as a cat – and licks Thor’s softening cock into his mouth, tasting the come.

A moment later, Thor’s hand reaches out and curls around the strands of his hair, finding a hold. And when Loki pulls back, testing the grip, it’s just tight enough to be a warning.

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