Dawn was slowly breaking in Asgard. Although most of the denizens of the realm would not awaken for another few hours at least, the God of Mischief’s eyes shot open the very instant the sun peeked over the horizon. It was always that way for Loki, especially in this bedchamber where the massive, floor-to-ceiling window was draped with only the flimsiest of sheer curtains. He rolled over to face away from the offending window and was greeted with a much more pleasant view.
Thor was sprawled over two-thirds of his enormous, four-post bed, face up, arms flung wide. In typical fashion he had migrated over from his side of the bed throughout the course of the night and left only a small sliver of space for Loki’s repose. Loki didn’t mind; he’d grown accustomed to being crowded out by his brother. He smiled into his pillow and watched the slow rise and fall of Thor’s naked chest.
The prior evening had been spent feasting. A week ago, Thor and his friends had left on another grand hunting trip, and they had brought back an impressive haul. Everyone had been in high spirits, and even Loki had enjoyed listening to the tales of how Thor had single-handedly brought down a massive bear. It was well past midnight when their guests started to depart, and Loki had been anxious to be alone with his brother after a week apart. Normally, they had a signal to indicate their desire to spend the night together, but after trips such as these it was unnecessary. They retreated to their respective rooms, and a quarter hour later Loki slunk out from his quarters and quietly made his way to Thor’s chambers. They’d spent the balance of the night catching up on lost time.
Loki reached out a pale hand and laid it gently atop Thor’s chest. As expected, his brother remained sound asleep, and Loki’s hand began to rise and fall along with Thor’s rhythmic breathing. His mind was, for a few short moments, blissfully blank, so focused was he on the place where his fingertips and palm lay against Thor’s skin. It was so rare for his mind to stop its constant wheel of thought and, although Loki wasn’t aware of it now, in another time in the not-so-distant future he would recall those moments of unadulterated peace as the thing he missed most about those days. The days before the trip to Jotunheim, before the breaking of the Bifrost, before the Chitauri.
The doorknob to Thor’s chambers’ jiggled and Loki snapped back to alertness. The door was locked, of course, but his heart always jumped whenever the servants predictably attempted to leave breakfast for the God of Thunder after their nighttime liaisons. The brothers had long ago established a game plan for the mornings-after, to avoid even the remote possibility of arousing suspicion. Thor made it known to the staff that if his door was locked, it meant he had not yet dismissed his latest conquest (of the female variety, not that he ever needed to spell that out for the servants, presumed as it was). Loki’s door, however, was always unlocked and when the servants delivered his breakfast at exactly the same time as Thor’s they were often greeted by the sight of the young god slumbering behind heavy bed-curtains. It was a cloned version of himself, but Loki thought the illusion good enough to fool those who barely spared him a glance even during waking hours. The pair had carried on this way for many years, zealously guarding the secrecy of their affair.
Loki returned his focus to his sleeping brother. He began to slowly rub his fingertips in a circle where his hand lay, brushing past the hair on Thor’s chest, and then traced serpentine lines up and down the right side of his abdomen. Normally, before sleep claimed them for the night, Loki’s hands would wander Thor’s body, and Thor would grunt and groan and sleepily kiss the top of Loki’s head in appreciation of the soothing touches. Now, though, Thor was apparently doing his best impression of the Odinsleep, and Loki’s hands were having no effect on his sleeping brother. It annoyed him.
His fingertips roamed up Thor’s chest to his neck, dipping into the hollow of his collarbone on the way, and then up his jawline to loop around the shell of his ear. Finally, Thor stirred—nothing more than a louder-than-average exhale of breath that Loki recognized as a sign of Thor’s enjoyment. He smirked knowingly and dragged his fingers down the length of Thor’s body again. He traced the line of hair from Thor’s navel to the base of his cock, which was understandably still lying soft against his body. He didn’t linger there, but drew his hand back up, ghosting his fingertips along the same path, from collarbone, to jaw, to neck to ear.
As he repeated the circuit around Thor’s body several more times, Loki scooted in closer to his brother and began laying delicate kisses to whatever portion of Thor’s arm and shoulder presented themselves to him. Thor’s breathing intensified, although his eyes did not so much as flutter; a wordless, quiet moan escaped his lips. This time, when Loki’s fingers found their way down to the space between Thor’s legs, he felt his brother’s cock hardening.
Loki propped himself up on his left elbow and continued touching Thor, moving his attentions over to the far side of Thor’s body that he previously hadn’t reached. He watched with satisfaction as Thor danced on the verge of consciousness. Thor swallowed, and Loki saw his eyes shift underneath his lids. He leaned down and pressed a few more kisses to the center of Thor’s chest, drinking in every detail of the reaction it garnered.
Thor was definitely hard now, and Loki was of a mind to enjoy himself one more time before the day began in earnest. He lifted himself with his knees ever so slowly and reached a hand back to prepare himself. He rubbed two fingers up against his entrance and found his body still pliant from the night before. It did not take him long to open himself on his own hand, and he found himself biting his lip from the sensation of both renewed pleasure and lingering pain from the previous night. As he worked his hand, he continued spreading kisses along Thor’s chest, chaste and closed-mouthed at first but growing sloppier as he lost some of his focus to his own pleasure. He nipped at Thor’s skin and panted against the plane of his abdomen before finally brushing away the sheet from his brother’s erection.
Thor finally seemed to be on the verge of opening his eyes, and since Loki was determined to surprise him, he hastily scrambled up and over so that he was straddling his brother’s prone form. Luckily, he was able to reach the vat of unguent they kept on Thor’s bedside table, and quickly slicked up his palm. In one quick motion, he ran his hand down Thor’s shaft and sank down atop him, hilting Thor within him easily.
The groan his scheming elicited from Thor was exquisite to Loki’s ears. Thor’s eyes burst wide open to take in the scene; he was unclear for a moment whether his brother was actually writing wantonly above him, or if he was just having a vivid dream replaying the previous night. Then Loki bent down, adjusted his angle and started to work up and down on Thor’s cock, and Thor realized for certain he was awake. He grinned widely, unabashedly, and reached up to grip his brother’s hips in two huge hands.
Loki continued pumping up and down, using the tips of his toes and his knees for leverage and slamming down each time in a syncopated beat. His erection bounced in time, neglected thus far and nearly straining from it. Thor moved his left hand off of Loki’s right hip (and mentally chastised himself for again holding so tightly he bruised his little brother, although Loki did claim to like the bruises) and began to stroke him.
Loki’s outward appearance of control broke apart. For another precious moment, his mind went still as he felt the heat of Thor’s hand envelope his cock, and he surrendered to the repetition of Thor pounding deep into him. With a strangled gasp, his cock twitched in Thor’s grasp and he let loose a long ribbon of come onto Thor’s chest. His breathing was ragged, and he found he was no longer able to keep up the pace for Thor’s completion.
It didn’t bother Thor in the slightest. His favorite moments when they were together were when he could see the look on Loki’s face when he came—so wanton, so beautiful, as his lips parted and his body tensed and then went slack. Reaching up, he pulled Loki down to lean closer against him, and claimed Loki’s mouth with a deep kiss.
When their lips and tongues untangled, Thor took over control and flipped Loki off of him and onto his knees. He reentered Loki and pressed one splayed hand to the middle of his back, pushing his chest closer to the mattress and his ass up in the air. He pumped into him hard, striving for his own completion. Loki’s eyes rolled shut at the punishing pace and he began to babble his encouragement to Thor—yes brother, please brother, take me, harder, faster, deeper, come for me brother. His silver tongue did Thor in, as it always did, and Loki could feel the spurt of Thor’s orgasm as his rhythm fell apart. Thor gave a few more off-beat thrusts and collapsed against Loki’s back.
The two brothers lay still for a minute, panting and collecting themselves. Thor pulled away and fell back to his side of the bed, and Loki deftly rotated off of his knees and onto his side so he could press against his brother’s body again. Thor drew an arm around him and pulled him in closer, laying a kiss on the top of his head.
Loki smiled against Thor’s chest. “Good morning.”