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Bitter Spoils

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Thor blinked as he pushed aside the curtain of his tent, and then had to restrain the urge to smirk. His servant had clearly gone to great lengths to create a grandiose display of wealth to intimidate his prisoner; that, or he'd just scattered everything in order to get to his own spoils quickly, and presumably hoped Thor would be too distracted by his prize to notice.

The jotun sorcerer stood in the center of the tent with his back to him.

Thor let the outer curtain fall behind him as he stepped inside. The sorcerer finally turned to face him at the sound, a half-smirk on his face.

"If you wished to strip me of my gold by hand, you should have done it in public," he drawled with surprising casualness. "It would've made a better statement."

"You're criticizing how I conquered?" Thor asked, eyebrow raised.

He snorted. "You won a battle, Odinson. The war goes on."

"Perhaps," Thor agreed, moving to the table. He unsealed the jar of mead there and poured a horn of it, wondering absently if there were any candles left in his supplies.

He had to admit, they lit the sorcerer fetchingly. The gold of his adornments glinted as he shifted on his feet, his toes digging into the fur of a beast Thor had brought down during the first week of the war; the servant had wisely taken away his boots. And their heat eased some of the chill that the jotun's mere presence brought with him. "But I suspect it will go worse for the Jotnar from here on out, without Loki Laufeyson among them."

"I'm flattered," Loki replied dryly.

"Mm," was all Thor said as he took a drink. A moment later, he gestured for the sorcerer to turn.

Loki refused, staying as he was with an insolent blink. Thor narrowed his eyes over the rim of the horn.

He drained the mead and dropped his hand to his side, and began to pace a slow circle around the jotun. Loki held his ground, smirk in place; but his shoulders tensed as Thor paused behind him.

Thor pressed a thumb to the pattern of burst capillaries that spread across the sorcerer's back like the branches of Yggdrasil: the only trace now of the lightning strike that had finally laid him low that morning.

"That's an impressive healing spell you used," he remarked. "That attack was meant to kill you."

Loki laughed once, meanly. "Perhaps you aren't as powerful as you think."

"Perhaps you're as powerful as I heard," Thor replied, for he knew the effect his lightning wrought. Those it didn't kill outright were left deafened, paralyzed and unconscious, badly burned where their armor and any other metal touched them.

And yet when he'd reached the sorcerer, the jotun had already been staggering to his feet, the wounds along his jewelry nearly gone.

"Perhaps," Loki agreed, honeyed poison in his tone. "I assure you, I will be a useful slave."

Thor ran his thumb down the longest of the marks, feeling the sorcerer stiffen further, and then drew his hand away. "I'm sure you will."

He set the empty horn on the table and dropped Mjolnir near the chest beside the bulk of his armor. Thor undid his boots and kicked them aside as well, keeping Loki in his peripheral vision.

Before he'd managed to strike the sorcerer down, Thor had seen him collapse an entire portion of the battlefield, sending the warriors on it--gods and goddesses he'd known, who he'd drunk with, whose bravery he would celebrate later during the funeral feasts--falling into one of the vast caverns that lay below the sheets of ice that made up much of Jotunheim's surface, never to be found or seen again. That Loki had to sacrifice some of his own fighters to do so had not stayed his hand.

Thor's attack had been meant to kill.

But he'd stripped Jotunheim of one of its most cunning warriors either way, creating a victory he hoped would prove worth the blood spilt for it. Thor's eyes dropped to the sorcerer's wrists, where heavy lead bands thick with runes broke the golden gleam of his ornamentation. The metal had been welded close and tight, and there were bruises and ugly sores on his skin near the edges. Thor made a note to get a healing stone later.

He glanced back up and took in the proud set of the sorcerer's shoulders. "You look better with the blood washed off you."

"I would've preferred to keep it," Loki replied with a grin. "Aesir blood is quite warming."

Thor resisted the urge to clench a fist. "Unsurprising," he replied, keeping his tone even. "Even the youngest child knows Jotnar are feral as animals."

Loki shrugged a shoulder. "Better to be an animal than led by a king who practices woman's magic and murdered his kin."

Thor studied him once more, his gaze lingering on the narrow hips beneath the jotun's loincloth and the lean build of his chest and thighs. The sorcerer wasn't brawny; but Thor could see the sleek muscle corded beneath his skin, and knew he'd been as deadly on the battlefield with his knives as he had with his spells.

"You're a notorious magic user," he pointed out. "And not just to attack--even healing spells, 'women's magic.' Are you not a man?"

"Sorry to disappoint," Loki smirked. "But I am."

"It's no disappointment," Thor replied lowly. "I would have you either way."

For the first time, the sorcerer's arrogance faltered. But he regained control of himself quickly, narrowing his eyes.

"Undifferentiating as a beast," Loki sneered. "And you called me feral."

"You're the one who wished to be covered in Aesir blood. You'll have to settle for something else."

"Unlikely, if your cock is as limp as your wit," the sorcerer replied cuttingly, though Thor saw him glance to the entrance behind him.

He could hear others outside, preparing for the evening meal and drawing lots to stand guard and discussing funeral arrangements for those lost to the caverns. The voices rose and fell as people continually passed by. There was no way the sorcerer would manage an escape through the camp even if he succeeded in getting past Thor--not barefoot on the cutting ice of Jotunheim, not with his magic bound by those lead shackles.

"We'll see," he replied, and pulled his tunic over his head. "Undress."

"No," Loki said. He bared his teeth when Thor glared at him. "If you wish to humiliate me today, you will have to work for it."

Thor dropped the tunic on the ground and adjusted one of his vambraces. "You have a proud tongue. A shame it didn't burn off."

"Perhaps you're not as strong as you think," Loki repeated with a smirk, before shifting his hands.

Thor marked the gesture and immediately tried to recall how long the sorcerer had been alone while he was preoccupied with other business. Not too long, he'd thought; but it might have been long enough to find a way around the bindings, if the jotun was as skilled as rumors said.

Thor tackled him.

He had no benefit of surprise, and the belt that increased his strength lay among the rest of his armor. But he had his greater build, and used to his advantage the fact that no matter how much the sorcerer had healed himself he'd still nearly died that morning.

Even then, it took Thor time to grapple him to the fur. Loki fought viciously, using the sharp edges of his jewelry and horns to his favor, striving to blind him. Thor was irritated to find himself winded at the end of it.

"Yield, Loki of Jotunheim," he growled, a forearm pressed against the back of the jotun's neck as he braced over him.

"Prince Loki," he snarled. "Would you in my place?"

"Yes," Thor replied. "You were defeated honorably."

"You are a liar, Odinson."

"Yield," Thor ordered.

"Die," Loki spat in response.

Thor pushed harder, feeling cartilage scrape beneath his arm. "Yield."

Loki hissed a breath out through his teeth, and loosened slightly beneath him. When Thor lifted his arm and began to straighten, the jotun swung a fist out and punched him hard in the kidney.

Thor grunted in pain and caught Loki's forearm before he could strike again. He seized his other arm as well and wrenched them both behind the sorcerer's back, shoving his chest against the fur.

Thor gripped Loki's wrists in one hand above the lead bands, the other pressing down hard on the center of his back to hold him in place. "You use your hands for magic, sorcerer. Yield, or I will break your wrists," he warned.

Loki's response was a muted snarl.

Thor tightened his grip slowly, feeling the bones grind together against his palm, and watched Loki carefully. He'd used no magic yet--either the bonds still stood or he'd been waiting for a riper moment, and Thor assumed this would be it. The sorcerer's shoulders trembled with the strain, but he refused to speak.

When Thor knew more pressure would crush his wrists, he jerked Loki's arms higher to buy another moment and give him one last chance to seek mercy. But the jotun remained silent. Thor exhaled sharply and prepared to break the bones.

"Stop," Loki gasped. When Thor paused, he hissed a long breath out through his teeth; and then he bent his head and muttered, "I yield."

Thor released his hands but continued to watch him warily. Loki pulled his arms to his chest and rubbed his wrists gingerly, curling away as much as he could with Thor's legs astride and pinning his own.

Thor didn't let him go far. He hooked his fingers in the waist of Loki's loincloth and wrenched, twisting the metal until he could peel it off and cast it aside.

Loki glared up at him through loose black hair and gold chains. "Am I to go naked into Asgard?"

"I'll find you other clothes," Thor said, unfastening his breeches.

"Slave rags," Loki sneered.

"You will endure it," Thor ordered. "With all the gods you've sent to Valhalla in this war, your life should be forfeited. Be grateful I spared it."

"Ha!" Loki snickered bitterly. "The same could be said of you, god of thunder. How many Jotnar have you slaughtered without a thought?"

Thor snorted derisively. "I'd more easily believe you were offended for your kind if I hadn't seen you condemn them to death alongside my own."

Loki made a disregarding noise. "A few foot soldiers. Their death enabled the death of the Aesir that outnumbered them; they did their duty. If your father allowed us entry to Valhalla, they would've earned their place in it."

Thor paused, breeches half off his hips, and stared down at him. "...Do you truly believe what you just said, prince?"

Loki gave him a cold look. "I want no condemnation from you, Odinson. Of the two of us, you're the one who needs to rape your enemies to convince yourself you've won."

Thor brushed aside the hair spilled across the jotun's face, tossing it over his shoulder to get a clear view of his expression. Loki stared back impassively.

"You are a beast," Thor said at last. "Or you've been taught to think like one. If those are Laufey's methods, he'll lose in the end. He'll have no warriors left."

"Or you'll lose, because the Aesir's coddling of their soldiers will leave cracks in their defenses," Loki retorted.

Thor scoffed in response. He ran a hand over Loki's hair once more, catching a handful before twisting it around his wrist.

"On your knees," he said with a short tug.

Loki tightened his jaw, but obeyed. He pushed himself up with an elbow instead of his hand.

Thor shucked his breeches off, kicking them to the side, and ran a palm down Loki's back once more. The lightning had struck him on the shoulder blade and spread the marks out across his shoulders and upper arm--but the thickest mark zagged down to taper at the small of his back, looking much like a lightning bolt. Thor slid his fingers over the dark blue trail, pleased at the sight.

"Get on with it," Loki said, sounding bored. His shoulders were tense again.

Thor tugged his hair sharply before pressing his mouth to Loki's shoulder. The jotun's skin was still cool despite the warmth from the candles and the exertion of the fight; but he wasn't impossible to touch. Thor bit his shoulder lightly before sucking the skin into his mouth and worrying it with his tongue and teeth, wondering absently if it would heat further.

Loki made a disgusted noise, and then ceased to respond at all.

Thor left a second trail of marks across his shoulders, shifting his arm and bracing it against the jotun's head to keep him from rearing back and gouging his horns into his face. He ran his other hand along Loki's hip and chest, idly feeling out the curved ridges on his skin and the muscles of his stomach. Eventually he moved down to palm the sorcerer's cock.

When Loki slowly began to thicken beneath his steady, even strokes, Thor smirked against his shoulder.

"You could have saved us the earlier aggravation, sorcerer," he commented, running his thumb over the head before pulling his foreskin back further. Loki drew in a breath.

"A mouth is a mouth," he said a moment later, in an annoyingly steady voice. "A hand is a hand. Of course I would react to them, especially when I don't have to see what they're attached to."

"Of course," Thor replied, and didn't relent.

When Loki began shivering faintly, gripping his own thighs in an effort to tense himself enough to hide it, Thor released his hair. He reached back and snagged the small pot of oil he'd noticed half-hidden behind the farthest cushion when he'd entered, and dragged it closer while the sorcerer was distracted.

Thor dipped his fingers inside, stirring the oil to ensure they were coated, and ran his thumb across the head of Loki's cock again. He smeared the drop of precome there leisurely, wringing another shiver and a hiss from the jotun before pulling away.

As Loki sucked in a breath at the sudden loss, Thor pushed a hand against his back, forcing him over. The jotun braced his palms reflexively on the fur to catch himself and Thor forced an oiled finger into him.

Loki made a choked, gasping noise before biting down savagely on his lip.

"You could save yourself much aggravation again," Thor murmured, twisting deeper inside, glad to find the jotun wasn't as cool within as he was without. Loki sneered in response, though the effect was ruined with his lip still between his teeth.

He remained silent as Thor added a second finger, but his back began trembling beneath Thor's palm and he sank down to brace himself on his forearms at the third. Thor worked slowly, keeping his free hand pressed hard between the jotun's shoulders, even though it left him unable to touch himself. The ache grew worse as he watched Loki shudder and jerk beneath him, his hips twitching whenever Thor pushed in up to his knuckles; but he refused to rut against the jotun's thigh and give him something else to deride.

When he squeezed a fourth finger in, Loki dropped his head to the fur, stifling a moan.

"Ah," Thor grinned, "you acknowledge I exist again."

Loki turned his head to the side and spat out a stray bristle of fur. "You over-credit yourself," he panted, and Thor was pleased to hear his voice was shaking. "You're hardly so generously endow--"

The insult choked off as Thor twisted his hand. "--gck!"

"Maybe not for one as difficult to sate as yourself," he replied, tugging loose. Loki swallowed a discomforted noise. "But I'll strive to rise to the occasion."

"So witty," the jotun muttered as Thor dipped his fingers in the oil again.

He didn't hold back his groan when he finally gripped his cock. Thor's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of friction at last, though he forced them half-open again when he noticed Loki staring at him narrowly.

Thor held his gaze as he spread the oil on himself. Loki's expression was nearly the same as when Thor had come upon him in the snow, hammer raised and ready to be brought down to remove Jotunheim's sorcerer from the battlefield for good: a look of hate and goading that almost--almost, but not quite--hid the panic behind it, the fear of death in one who knew the only afterlife open to him was Hel, whether he fell in battle or not.

As the war dragged on and the jotuns' warriors grew steadily younger and rawer, Thor saw that look more and more often. He was growing sick of it.

He'd stripped Jotunheim of one of its most cunning warriors either way. Laufey's defenses wouldn't last long without Loki to magically reinforce them or deflect Odin's spells; eventually he would fall, and then this tedious war would be over, and Thor could return to Asgard and to defending his home, not razing someone else's. He could return to being the god he preferred to be, and not the one protracted war necessitated.

But those were useless thoughts right now.

He pulled his hand from his cock with a grunt. Thor dragged the other one down Loki's back to grip his hip, and the jotun broke eye contact as he was tugged backward. Loki glared at the flame of a candle while Thor aligned his cock with his hole, and then closed his eyes and bit his lip again as he pressed in.

Loki tossed his head sharply as Thor pushed steadily deeper, casting his hair over his face to veil it. Thor let him; with his magic locked and bound, it was the only concealment left to the sorcerer.

When he was seated fully inside, Thor shifted and shoved Loki's knees further apart, seeking a better position. The jotun hissed again, but the sound turned to a muffled moan when Thor reached around and gripped his cock. Loki's back arched as he clenched a hand in the fur and drove into Thor's palm--and then he snarled under his breath and pressed his head against his forearm.

More precome had dripped from the slit since Thor had last touched his cock. He rolled his palm over the head as he pulled back, smearing it, and then began to stroke Loki firmly with his next thrust.

He found a rhythm soon: deep, long strokes combined with the discovery of a ridge on the underside of the head of Loki's cock that made the jotun's breath hitch each time Thor rubbed it. He huffed appreciatively when Loki began to rock his hips slightly--more into his hand than back against him, but a satisfying reaction all the same. Several comments came to his mind, and almost passed his tongue; but Thor held them back, uninterested in trading more barbs right now. The only sounds he wanted to hear from the sorcerer were the ones he was already making.

In time Loki's gasps turned to whimpers, and finally to a groan as Thor at last wrung an orgasm from him. Thor stroked him a few more times as he came, watching Loki's shoulders twitch and half-feeling the urge to run a palm over them once again. Then he pulled his hand away.

Loki made a whining noise when Thor gripped his sides and pressed down, forcing him harder against the fur. The new angle restricted his ability to move; Thor shifted his leg out, bracing the balls of his feet against the fur and listening to Loki pant with each shorter, rougher thrust. He stared down at the mark of the lightning bolt on the jotun's back, half-hidden under his dark hair, and thought again of Asgard, his home, so far from this land of ice and monsters.

Thor closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasure-seeking. He blocked out the voices outside and the chill of the air past the candles' warmth and on Loki's skin beneath his palms, focusing only on Loki's panting and the thigh trembling against his own, driving harder toward the release that was almost there, almost, almost--

It hit in a warm, heavy rush, a final breaking of the tension that had been building in him since he first set foot into the tent and the jotun's presence. Loki whined again when Thor leaned heavily on him as he shuddered through it, muffling the sound against the back of his hand. Thor slid his hands down and braced them on the fur instead, nearly banging the side of his jaw against one of Loki's horns before he caught himself. Beneath him, Loki exhaled slowly.

He grunted when Thor eventually pulled out and stood. Another jar near the table was filled with melted snow, and Thor picked up the rag folded over it and rinsed himself off. Loki stretched with a grimace as he did, and Thor watched as he rolled to his side and got carefully to his feet.

"Here," he said, holding out the wet cloth. "Clean up."

Loki took the used rag with distaste, but apparently loathed the idea of remaining sweaty and sticky more. He dunked the cloth in the water and scrubbed it hard against the side of the jar.

Thor watched him for a few moments more before glancing at his horns.

He reached out and touched one, feeling bone with gold melted into it beneath his fingers. Loki jerked and then glared at him sharply from the corner of his eye.

"Don't mistake me for a lover, Odinson," he said coldly.

Thor snorted. "That would be impossible," he said wryly, still feeling the ache in his side from the jotun's last punch. He didn't withdraw his hand.

"I always wondered," he added. "How does your kind sleep with these?"

"The same as anyone else," Loki replied, still glaring.

"You can't lie on your back with them," Thor retorted. He flicked a finger at the horn. "Not with these ones, at least."

"I was unaware that that was the only way to sleep," Loki said dryly. He pulled the rag from the water and stepped away.

Thor dropped his hand and nodded at the bowl of fruit his servant had left on the table--probably at Volstagg's insistence; he seemed half-convinced they were all going to return from Jotunheim with scurvy. "You can have some of that. I'll bring more food and your new clothes when I return."

"I am grateful for the generosity, your highness," Loki said with an utter lack of sincerity as he began to rinse himself clean.

Thor half-smirked as he reached for his clothes. "Your tongue's recovered quickly."

"There was nothing to make it falter in the first place."

"I remember differently."

"I'm not surprised," Loki replied. "You seem the type to suffer many blows to the head in battle. What an unreliable memory that must create."

Thor paused in fastening his breeches and ran his gaze deliberately over the jotun's body again, taking in his disheveled hair and the stray trail of come dribbling down his thigh, the gleam of water on his stomach and the appealing contrast of gold and blue.

"We'll see," Thor responded, smirk widening. He finished with his breeches and pulled his tunic over his head. "I'll return later."

"Fall through the ice and never be seen again," Loki said flatly.

"You should wait until you have clothes again before wishing that," Thor replied, turning to the tent's entrance.

He glanced back briefly as he pulled the curtain aside. The sorcerer had turned partially away, but Thor could see him twisting one of the lead bands on his wrist viciously, lips pulled from his teeth.

Thor let the curtain drop behind him and made his way out into the war camp.