He is the wind, and nothing more.
The transformation spell took about two weeks to learn, but all the hard work is worth it. Loki weaves through the halls as nothingness with this victorious, yet unseen smile on his face. He makes his way from the library, brushing past men’s shoulders and breezing through maidens’ hair.
He has a sole destination in mind: his and Thor’s shared bedroom.
Unfortunately, just as Loki is about to slip beneath the cracks of the door, he loses concentration and abruptly shifts back. He lands on the floor with a pained groan and several curses.
The door opens, and he looks up to see Thor staring down at him. “Loki?” His older brother’s eyebrows knit together in an expression of puzzlement.
“Hello,” Loki says.
“What are you doing on the floor?”
“Help me up first, ask questions later,” Loki chastises, and Thor, used to the jibes, just acquiesces. Loki brushes off invisible dirt from his pants and strides into their room haughtily.
On the bright side, at least he did not change halfway through the door. It might have been a little harder to explain why his upper body was in their room while his arse was bared to the other side.
“Trying out a new spell, brother?” Thor asks, following inside. He shuts the door behind him, and then it’s a familiar scene: Just him and Loki.
Loki throws himself on the bed without much grace. “I turned into wind, and I was about to come floating in and then scare you.” He declares this into the sheets, and his voice is therefore muffled.
“Why would you want to do such a thing?” Thor frowns, sitting on the edge and nudging his brother’s thigh.
Turning his head so he can give the other a squinty-eyed glare, Loki replies flippantly, “So I can spy on you.”
“That’s creepy, Loki.” But Thor does sound vaguely anxious.
“I jest.” Loki rolls his eyes - with the way Thor is acting, almost as if he’s hiding something, makes Loki want to spy on him after all. What purpose did secrets have, if not only to be uncovered?
Loki draws back and then pounces on his older brother with a mock growl. “Don’t call me creepy,” he crows, pressing his hands against Thor’s shoulders and pinning him down on the bed. “I’m the best little brother ever, say that.”
“You’re the littlest little brother ever,” Thor says instead. Before Loki can retort, he easily flips their position so that Loki is beneath him. “And the lightest, too.” He pins skinny wrists to the bed.
“Heavy.” Loki grunts. “Get off, you boor.”
“Say I’m the best brother ever.”
“Then no, too.”
Loki suddenly disappears, and Thor falls on his face. “Loki,” he whines, sitting up and looking around the room. “Don’t do that.” He feels a slight breeze ruffle his hair, sending a shiver down his spine.
Then Loki is sitting on the window sill, looking unimpressed.
“Don’t do that,” Thor repeats. “It’s creepy.”
Loki stares down at him. Finally he sighs and concedes, because gods knew Thor’s pleading face always worked. “Okay, okay. Fine. I won’t, not around you.”
Thor picks him up from the sill in this wide hug. Loki struggles, but ends up leaning into the touch, like he always does.
Loki perfects the spell. It isn’t long until he can navigate through the palace, unseen. He hears things, sees things. But mostly, he hears maidens sharing frivolous fantasies about his brother and sees them fawning over him from a distance.
“They like you,” he tells Thor once, just as they enter the fighting arena. They’ve become old enough to train. “If you look very hard, you can almost see the shapes of their eyeballs resembling hearts.”
Thor casts a glance at the sidelines, and there is a collective sigh from the maidens watching them. “I think they’re for you,” he says.
Loki gives a mock laugh, and then throws a punch.
If the girls had been enough of a distraction, his aim would have found its mark. But unfortunately, Thor turns his head just in time and manages to dodge.
They fall into an easy rhythm, sparring almost lazily. Blows do land, but it’s nothing that won’t heal afterwards.
When they finish, Thor puts an arm around Loki and thanks him for the match, grinning. To the onlookers’ disappointment, the brothers disappear into the baths.
When Loki finishes, he bids his brother goodbye. Five minutes later, he realizes he left his throwing stars. He goes back to retrieve them, only to come across the site of his brother, clad in nothing but a towel, lip-locked with a woman just outside the baths.
Instinctively, Loki dissipates into the wind and nothing more. They are old enough for such things, but to know that his brother engaged in them leaves a strange feeling in his stomach. He thinks it’s jealousy, but that’s silly, because what would he be jealous of?
Then he sees Thor gently push the woman away. Loki is too far to hear whatever is said, but it ends with the woman walking away hurriedly, eyes brimming. She walks right through Loki.
A sigh draws the trickster’s attention back to his brother. Thor is leaning against the wall now, running a hand through his hair as he stares contemplatively up at the ceiling, and Loki pretends not to see the gratuitous amount of exposed skin.
“Damn you, Loki,” he hears him mutter.
Why, Loki is not sure.
He slinks back to his room(his own, as they are too old to share one anymore). He ends up forgetting about his throwing stars altogether.
To be honest, Loki thinks it Thor’s fault for having trusted him in the first place. He knows he promised, and really, he did try and succeeded for about eight years. And then the incident at the baths happened and it was only for a month more that Loki could upkeep that promise.
He breaks his promise on Thor’s twenty-first birthday. By the end of the night, Thor is inebriated. He disappears from the banquet. When Loki cannot find him, he deigns to go to his brother’s room - invisibly, of course - because he has not had a chance to talk to Thor all day and personally wish him a happy birthday.
Loki arrives to a scene much like the one he stumbled upon in the baths. This time, he is privy to the sight of his brother’s naked, sweat-dampened back, taut as his hips thrust rhythmically into a woman below him.
Loki nearly loses concentration on the spell. Just as he prepares to leave, mortified, Thor gives one last hard thrust and spills inside the dark-haired woman, and he hears a strained whisper of, “Loki.”
In the days that follow, Loki does not look at Thor. He wakes up a good hour earlier to ensure that he does not end up alone at breakfast with him. He politely denies any request to spar or hunt together.
At night, he mutters a quick spell and twists through the keyhole and into his brother’s room.
Every time, he watches, transfixed, as Thor wraps a hand around himself. His cock is hard and flushed red, already leaking precum, and it’s so big - Loki licks his lips and imagines how that would feel inside him, stretching, filling, marking, ruining and spoiling him from any other.
The moon casts light over hands and thighs stained with cum, and by then, Loki is gone.
The night before the coronation, Loki loses self control.
“Nervous, brother?” he commented over dinner that night, the first words spoken to Thor since a while. The second one burns like acid on his tongue.
“Hardly,” Thor scoffed in return, but there was something underlying his tone that told Loki otherwise.
His brother had been tense all day. He turned in early that night, claiming that he wanted to get as much rest as possible, but Loki was always the better liar between them two.
That’s how Loki ends up sneaking into Thor’s room for the umpteenth time. His brother does not even undress the whole way, simply pulling down his pants low enough to draw his cock out. “Damn me,” he rasps under his breath.
And Loki can’t have that. He can’t have Thor finally realizing how wrong this is, not when Loki has just realized how much he wants it too.
Without another second’s hesitation, Loki allows himself to materialize between Thor’s knees.
“Loki,” the king-to-be gasps out, blue eyes going wide as he registers the sight, “what are you-“
He doesn’t get to finish, because Loki has pushed his hand away from his cock and replaced it with his mouth.
“Loki!” Thor fists a handful of his hair and pulls him off.
“No.” Loki grabs his wrist, stilling his arm effectively. “I’ve been waiting for this, Thor. Please, I want this.” And then, he adds desperately, “We both do.”
Thor’s eyes go wide, but he has no time to question what Loki means by that. The dark-haired man takes his cock into his mouth again, this time going further. Loki releases his wrist and places his hands on Thor’s thighs instead, as if to hold him down.
He runs his tongue along the thick underside of Thor’s cock, feeling the vein there, relishing the taste of his brother.
Whatever protest Thor might have had dissolves, and then his other hand is also tangled in Loki’s hair. He controls the pace and Loki lets him, letting himself be pulled and pushed, jaw lax as Thor uses his mouth.
“Yes,” Thor utters above him, “that’s it, Loki, just like that, oh, fuck, your mouth-“
Loki coaxes with his tongue. He wants to taste his brother’s seed - or perhaps feel it splashing across his cheek when Thor abruptly pulls out and shoots all over his face-
He’s pulled up by the hair before that happens, and his mouth leaves the engorged member with an obscene pop. A low whine sounds in the back of his throat, but then he’s being hauled into Thor lap and his lips are being claimed by Thor’s own, and Loki can’t find anything to complain about.
The still-hard cock slides wetly up the crease of Loki’s ass, catching once on the rim of his hole. The younger barely has time to protest before the head is sliding in.
“Oh-” Loki stutters, breathless and barely coherent. “No, won’t fit, Thor, ah-!”
His brother does not listen, as he rarely ever does. Thor’s hand grips his waist tightly and guides him all the way down his cock, and Loki’s scream is swallowed by a rough kiss. Thor feels huge inside him, everything yet nothing he’s ever fantasized about.
“It will feel better,” Thor whispers against his mouth. “Gods, Loki, I promise.”
“Bastard,” Loki says weakly, and nips at Thor’s bottom lip in retaliation.
“It will, brother, trust me.” Thor gives a shallow thrust, and Loki has to bite back a whimper. “Oh, gods, you’re so tight.”
He kisses him. This one is different from the previous ones: gentler, affectionate. Thor’s arms come around his waist and press their bodies closer together, an embrace far too gentle for what was coming.
“Move,” Loki finally accedes, and Thor’s hips snap up in one quick thrust.
The pace set is hard and unrelenting and is enough to make Loki’s eyes water from the pain. “Ah, ah- Thor, n-not so - mmm! - fast!” It’s his first time and it hurts like hell and he thinks he may even be bleeding, but at the same time he absolutely loves being claimed so roughly by his brother, and it isn’t long until he’s begging for the exact opposite.
In this position, he feels speared by the huge length. Thor has his face buried into the crook of his neck and both of his hands on Loki’s ass, kneading the soft flesh and parting them for his cock.
“Fucking animal,” Loki gasps out. He tries to keep up with the thrusting, but Thor is faster and strong enough to bounce him in his lap as he wishes.
That elicits a low growl from the back of Thor’s throat. Loki feels himself being suddenly lifted, and he barely has time to open his eyes and see where they’re going before he feels himself being slammed up against plaster. Thor starts thrusting anew and just as hard as before, like he never stopped, and it’s all Loki can do to keep his arms wound tightly around his shoulder and hold on as he is fucked into the wall.
“You feel so good,” Thor groans into his ear, breath hot and heavy on his younger brother’s skin, “and so tight.”
When Loki cums, he does so with a sob and without having to touch himself. Semen spurts out in between them, coating Loki’s stomach and partially Thor’s. The thrusting slows down, until Thor actually pulls out and sets him back down on his feet.
He can barely stand.
Loki makes to move away, only to notice that Thor hasn’t cum yet. A mere second after this realization, he finds himself being spun to face the other way. A hand comes down on his back, heavy and keeping him bent. Like this, his body is almost at a ninety-degree angle. Loki’s fingers scrabble against the wall for purchase.
The hand slides from his back to his hip, and another spreads his ass. Before Loki can even register what’s happening, Thor has pushed inside of him to the hilt. In this position, he feels even deeper, and Loki opens his mouth to protest, but his orgasm has left his mind dazed and all he can get out is a long, drawn out, “Thor.”
Thor slaps a hand against his ass and groans, “I’m not done yet, brother.”
Loki’s legs threaten to collapse beneath him, but Thor is seemingly unaware, still pounding away at his brother’s abused hole.
Eventually, the rhythm begins to break, a sign that Loki takes as Thor nearing his release. “Yes,” the younger prince nearly begs, “do it inside me, Thor, please, please-“
And Thor does, with one snap of his hips that sends his cock as deep into Loki as it can go. He rides out his orgasm with small rolls of his hips, whispering brokenly, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
I do, Loki thinks.
Thor pulls out his spent cock, and some remaining drops of cum land on the small of Loki’s back. He pulls his brother up and turns him around for a kiss, this one chaste.
“I love you.”
Neither is sure of who says it, but they can be assured that there’s an accompanying, “I love you, too.”
In the morning, as Loki has to be helped to the shower, Thor will ask, “Was I your first?”
And Loki will not give him the satisfaction of a reply, instead telling him to move faster; there is a coronation to prepare for.
He is the wind, and nothing more.
The fall from the Bifrost landed Loki in the realm of the humans and far from his Asgardian home, but that doesn’t stop the falsified prince from returning to it. It is easy enough to breeze past the golden gates, and Loki only hesitates once; that’s when he’s hovering before the great doors. But the hesitation is minimal, and it’s not long at all before he’s on his way again, sneaking underneath the cracks of the door.
The hall is lively with guests. They laugh and they talk and they toast, and for a moment, Loki honestly wonders, Was my fall not just mere days ago? Of course, he has to admonish himself for thinking so foolishly(You think they would mourn you?), but it doesn’t entirely dispel his wistful thoughts.
He stands in the center and takes in everything. Asgardian feasts are never anything short of phenomenal, and this is no exception. Loki allows himself to entertain the idea that Asgard is celebrating for him, for his return. Then a noble walks right through him, reminding Loki that no one can even see him. He is but the very air itself.
Once he finds no more interest in the hall, Loki makes his way through the crowd, towards the grand staircase. He follows the familiar path to his old bedroom, which was what he initially came to revisit.
He’s pleased to find that the door is still locked. Loki slips through the keyhole, and when he’s inside, he shifts back to his regular form.
Everything looks untouched. He isn’t sure whether that’s because no one wanted to look through the room of a traitor, of if it’s because no one was able to get past the door’s enchantment. Loki convinces himself that it’s the latter.
All of his books sit on a long unused desk. (I should take them with me, Loki thinks on a whim.) He pulls open a drawer and finds his throwing knives. Hesitates. Takes them and secrets them into his pocket.
He’s halfway through inspecting the other drawers when he hears a thump come from somewhere outside the room. Loki stills, eyes trained on the door, but the sound isn’t coming from directly outside. There’s a crash, and it sounds like someone is throwing things.
He’s sure now that the sound is coming to his right, and he knows what that means.
A little smile splits his lips before he can stop himself; yes, he knows all too well what that means. You have not changed one bit, have you? Loki thinks laughingly, but along with that thought also comes the urge to see him.
He succumbs to it. The urge, that is - and when Loki has dissipated into air once more and floated out into the hallway, he finds the other door ajar. It makes it easier for him to slip through and then in.
The sight of Thor hits him like the daylight might hit a man who’s been depraved of it for years. Loki almost loses concentration entirely; he clutches at the seams of his guise and pulls it back over himself. (But while he’s desperate not to be seen, he also wants to be, wants to shift back to his form and just admit to Thor and himself how much he missed - does miss - all of this.)
The room is in disarray. Loki knows that Thor isn’t the most ardent when it comes to cleaning his chambers, but this is…different, somehow. There’s a lamp shattered on the floor. Books, the few that Thor does keep, are scattered here and there. The curtains are half torn from the rings.
Thor himself lies on the bed, on his back, an arm splayed over his face. His mouth moves, slow, forming silent words.
Loki glides to the edge of the bed. Reaches out as a wisp of the wind, trails a nonexistent finger down his brother’s cheek. Ghosts a hand down the length of his arm and, finally, laces his invisible fingers through his not-brother’s.
Loki, he thinks Thor mouths at least once.
Thor is saying his name.
I miss you, Loki thinks he also catches, but perhaps his wishful thinking is merely getting to him.
“I miss you too, you blundering fool,” Loki tells the prone figure of his brother; affection and bitterness pool in his stomach, an ugly, rather painful combination. The air snatches his words up as soon as they are spoken.
It hurts to know that he cannot reveal himself, but god, he smiles.
“Perhaps soon,” he says to no one in particular, and it sounds almost like a promise. It dissolves into the air, just like his previous words, but it certainly does not dissolve from Loki’s mind.
Perhaps someday, Thor will find out that he hasn’t been clutching at nothingness, after all.
Perhaps someday, but not today.
He does lean down and press their foreheads together, lips coming this close to touching but not quite. No, Loki will not do that to himself.
“Soon,” he murmurs instead, and draws away, pulling himself back through the crack under the door, down the hall, back to the gates and to the Bifrost and back to Midgard, to somewhere, anywhere else, far, far away from Thor.
So quickly does he leave that, by consequence, he misses the way Thor’s eyes snap open. He does not hear the croaked, “Loki?” and then the rustling as Thor rises abruptly from the bed.
In Loki’s mind of conflagration, the one wherein he believes he will never be worthy, he is merely the wind and nothing more.