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Loki keeps his chin tucked in the air, proud and haughty, even as he is led back to Asgard in chains.

He smiles when his sentence is read, like it means nothing to him. Like it is just another cog in his convoluted machinery.

Thor, however, knows him well enough to be able to see the fault lines in his façade, and even after all that has transpired, is roused to pity.

“Do you want me to be there when they put it on?”

“I don’t need you to hold my hand!”  Loki hisses.

So, Thor stays away. When next he sees Loki, he has a gleaming golden torque wrapped around his elegant neck. It is horseshoe shaped, with an opening at one end, but not nearly wide enough for Loki’s neck to fit through. Perfectly snug and fitted, it’s a complete mystery how they got it on him at all. From the bruises on Loki’s wrists, it seems he did not give them an easy go of it.

Thor witnesses the torque do its work when Loki attempts a quick cast, a spell he had done thousands of times before. A force of habit.

The magic begins to flower out of Loki’s fingertips, but before it can truly manifest, it seems to get....snagged, rebounding back inwards from whence it came.  Loki’s mouth opens in a silent scream, and he clutches his chest as if to slow the frantic beating of his heart. At once, Thor is rushing to him and taking him into his arms. He holds him still until the tension seeps from his shoulders and Loki slumps in exhaustion. If Loki resents Thor’s coddling, he doesn’t say so.

Odin banishes him to the North Tower shortly thereafter. Thor thinks this might be because Odin does not, in fact, know what else to do with him.  It is fitting that Loki be punished, but with the torque, he is as powerless as a mortal; surely that should be enough? Perhaps it pains Odin to look upon him.

Nonetheless, Thor goes to see him. How could he not?

The first time, he finds Loki laying on his bed, staring vacantly up at the ceiling. The tower room is circular, with a single window on the western side. There’s also a table, an armchair, a wardrobe, a hearth, and a few of Loki’s old belongings. The room is in disarray, as if Loki had torn it apart.

“Have you come to mock me?”

“No. To visit you.”

 Loki turns towards him.

“Well, next time bring me some wine.”


Thor does.  And Loki gets drunk.

Loki was rarely one to indulge in alcohol. In fact, more often than not, it was he who put Thor to bed when Thor had been a bit too......immoderate. But Loki is excellent company when he is intoxicated. He laughs (despite himself) at Thor’s ill attempts at humor, and even makes a few bungled jokes of his own.  His head falls forward on the table like he can’t hold it up anymore, and Thor swears it’s the funniest thing. Thor loves how much softer Loki looks when he’s happy. He seems younger, less gaunt; more like his old, mischievous self.

In his inebriated state, Loki overturns his cup and spills wine across his lap. Mind clouded, he forgets himself and tries to cast. Thor watches in horror as Loki’s face goes from loopy and content to twisted in unmitigated agony. Loki falls to the floor and curls in on himself, dry heaving like he can’t take in enough air.  Thor is at his side just has he starts to vomit.  Thor rubs his back in what he hopes is a comforting way until Loki’s breathing settles into soft, shaky sobs. Thor hates how helpless he feels.

He carries Loki to bed and sends for a servant to clean the mess.

“Thor,” Loki croaks. “Help me. Please.”

Thor pets Loki’s hair until he falls into a fitful sleep.


Odin declares that Asgard needs a celebration – a great feast, to take their minds off all the troubles of late. It doesn't take much intellect to deduce what the Allfather has in mind.

“I’m to be wed,” Thor tells Loki.

Loki’s face is impassive.  “To whom?”

“Gróa,” Thor says.”Of the House of Gunnarr.”

. “.....The blonde one with the-“

“Big tits,” Thor finishes, cupping his chest for emphasis.  “You remember?”

“Bits of her.” Loki replies. “Now that you mention it. Well, how nice. I’m sure our mother is thrilled.”

“Aye,” Thor chuckles, “She is already pestering me for grandchildren.”

"She can take her pick. Knowing you, there are probably a few bastard brats running around somewhere."

Thor grins roguishly. it's no secret that he likes women, and women like him.

Loki frowns.  “When did you say?”

“In a week’s hence."

 “Let me guess.” Loki says flatly.  “I’m not invited.”

Thor purses his lips. Indeed, despite Thor’s protests, it was not deemed fitting for Loki to attend.  Thor had argued that Loki could simply come for the ceremony. Or perhaps just to wish him well during the feast – under close supervision, of course. Unsurprisingly, he’d been overruled, and Thor is more disappointed about it than he would have expected. He simply never imagined his wedding day without his brother by his side.

“I am sorry.”

Loki looks away with a sigh. “Aren’t we all.”


The wedding is a blur of gold and red and noise and drink. No one else seems to be troubled by Loki’s absence, and Thor doesn’t know why that stings as though it were a slight against his own person.

Thor admits he could do worse for a bride. She is lovely in a conventional Asgardian way: Fair-haired, blue-eyed, meaty in the hips and full in the chest. She is the type of woman that usually inspires his lusts, and as the festivities drag on Thor grows in eagerness to take her into his bed. They finally retire to the sound of thunderous (if borderline inappropriate) applause, and are soon enough left alone to consummate their union.

Gróa, as it turns out, has all the passion of a wet rag. Her eyes go round and frightened when he climbs over her, even though he speaks nothing but sweet reassurances to calm her nerves.

“Forgive me, my lord,” She whispers when she jerks away from Thor’s touch like a skittish fawn.

“Shhh, do not be afraid,” Thor hushes and pulls up her nightgown. “I will not hurt you.”

Thor means to be gentle, he does, but Gróa is a proper virgin bride, and she simply won’t open enough to fit him, even when he goes slow and uses oil to ease the way. There is something to be said for women of the bawdier persuasion – at least they can handle a cock.

“I am sorry,” Tears are streaming down her cheeks – in pain, in frustration, in embarrassment, Thor isn’t sure -  and she hides her face behind her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong....”

Thor huffs, equally frustrated. His desire has snuffed out, his cock has lost interest, and now all he wants to do is sleep away the rest of this soured night. He knows better than to show his aggravation.

“Do not by troubled, my darling.” Thor soothes, and pets her hair. “It’s been a long day, and we are both weary. We will try again another night.”

She nods, evidently relieved , and Thor kisses her on the cheek before rolling off her. It feels like an age before he finally finds sleep.


The following morning, Volstagg asks him how he slept, eyebrows perched high on his forehead and primed for a bawdy joke. Thor says nothing, but grins knowingly - that is enough to quench their curiosity. The Warriors Three cheer and clap him on the shoulder.  Sif, meanwhile, rolls her eyes.


In the following days, Thor busies himself with life at court, with food and sparring and midnight trysts and court paperwork. He tries to warm himself to his new wife, but Gróa is so hopelessly dull, having been raised in a household where needlework was considered riveting entertainment. Thor finds he can only stand her presence for so long before he slinks away to find more....amiable company. Nonetheless, he strives to be kind to her; she is a sweet girl, and does not deserve his coldness.  He visits Loki when he is able, but Loki has been sullen of late, and Thor can only attempt to wring a conversation from him for so long before he gives up and leaves Loki to wallow in peace. It’s looking more and more like Loki won’t revert back to his old self, and Thor quite simply.......misses him.

Thor is hearing government debriefings on behalf of his father when he’s nudged by an attendant.

“Pardon, my lord,” the page says into his ear, “You are needed.”

Thank the stars. Thor is bored out of his mind; he’ll take any excuse to get out of here. “For what purpose?”

“It’s ....your brother.”

Thor doesn’t need further elaboration. He immediately excuses himself from the hall and all but sprints up the spiral tower. He automatically assumes the worst. Is Loki ill? Had he tried to cast and inadvertently stopped his heart?

As he climbs higher, he hears that his brother is quite alive, and in the midst of what appears to be a very heated temper tantrum. Thor barges in as Loki’s gaoler is attempting to mollify him, unsuccessfully.

“Thor!” Loki greets. His hair is wild, like he hadn’t brushed it for a few days. “Good, you’re here.”

Thor looks at both of them. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“I petitioned the Allfather to be let out for a turn around the grounds, and this dog-“ Loki points, accusatory, “- denies me. Me. A prince of Asgard. I’ve been penned in this dank, wretched tower for Gods knows how long; I’ve accepted my punishment and have borne it with grace and dignity but even I have my limits.”

In time, my lord. His Majesty said perhaps, in time –“

“Silence, you scum-eating lowlife of a whoreson! Thor, tell him. ”

“You interrupted my court hearings,” Thor says, “For this?”

"Speak truth! Has there not been such an order?”

Thor thinks. If there was, surely Odin would have told him. “I have heard no such decree.”

Loki’s chest heaves, tempestuous.

“I want out,” he screams. “I WANT OUT.”

The situation is escalating and Thor takes it upon himself to defuse it.  He turns to the gaoler. “Leave us.”

The gaoler shoots a wary glances back at his charge, then takes his leave.

Once they are alone, Thor sighs. “Brother, what is this foolishness?”

“These walls close in on me,” Loki says. His eyes are crazed, and Thor wonders how long it’s been since he last slept.  “It’s stifling, I cannot breathe.....”

“I cannot let you out, as much as I would like to.  I’m sure the Allfather will relent, in time. It is not in him to be cruel.”

This was obviously not the right thing to say, and Loki’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Do you know what it’s like to be denied my magic? It’s like having this....pressure inside my chest, across my shoulders, in my viscera. It stirs like a maelstrom inside me, and yet I cannot find release. I can find no peace, no solace, no rest.”

“I am sorry for your pain,” Thor says sincerely. He is not unmoved, but what can he do? The Allfather’s word is final.

Loki’s jaw tenses and his eyes flash wildly. In one smooth move, he grabs a nearby wine bottle and hurls it against the stone wall, smashing it into a thousand glittering pieces. Thor jumps, just a little bit.

“What would it take?” Loki says, low and dark, “Hm, brother? What would it take?”


“You can help me, I know you can. Once you take the throne – “

“That could be years from now. I do try to help you. I intercede on your behalf all the time. I tell our father the torque is enough, that you are more than adequately punished by being denied the use of your magic, but he is immovable.” Thor sighs. “I cannot undermine his sentence. This is your punishment, and it was deemed just and lawful, and you must endure it.”

Loki sneers. “You would leave me in this tower to rot?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Thor barks back. “I have come to visit you as much as I am able, and each time you have been nothing but a petulant child. How could you even suggest such a thing, that I could forget about you?” Thor tries approaching Loki carefully, as one might a feral animal, and manages to rest his hands on Loki’s shoulders. He tries to catch Loki’s eye, but his brother stubbornly refuses to look at him. “It pains me to see you thus, and my intentions are sincere. It hurts me too, to have my family divided.”

 “Yes, because you’re the one suffering here.” Loki shakes him off. “I just need some respite from this....thing.....He tugs at the torque so violently Thor wants to pin him down to make him stop. There are dark bruises around Loki’s neck where he’s obviously been trying to pry it off. “Just for a while, to vent my magic, brother, please, it’s killing me.”

“It would be a risk to unbind you,” Thor says carefully. “Surely you understand. You put me in a difficult position. I hate to see you suffer but I........I cannot yet trust you, either.”

“If you loved me –“

“Do not question my love for you!” Thor roars. He is quickly tiring of this. Can he not see that his punishment is Thor’s too? That his imprisonment denies Thor his companionship? That the luster of his wedding day was much diminished by his absence?

“What would it take?” Loki repeats, softer this time.

 “There is nothing you can offer.”

Loki is quiet for a minute. At length, he says, “I’d cast only for you.”

Thor chuckles. “Gods keep you brother, but you cast first and foremost for yourself.”

“I’d swear fealty to you.”

Thor looks at him dubiously, so Loki modifies:  “Fine. Keep me collared when I am not in your presence, and unbind me only when you see fit to do so.”

“Enough! The matter is settled. You must carry out your sentence until the Allfather deems it fitting to release you, and that is that. It would behoove you to cease this nonsense and act in a manner befitting of your station.”

Loki is evidently undeterred.

“I’d beg.”

Thor scoffs. Loki is the proudest man he knows; there is no way he’d lower himself to such a deplorable level.

“You think I wouldn’t?”

“I think you’re tired and not in your right mind.”

“You have no idea how far I’d go,” Loki says, purposefully vague.

Thor sighs. There is no talking to him when he’s hysterical like this. He turns to the door. “Rest, brother. I will return as soon as my schedule allows.”

In a swift, graceful motion, Loki sinks to the floor at Thor’s feet, taking one of Thor’s hands into both of this own.

 “What are you doing?”

Loki looks up, and his face is pure unadulterated sin. He kisses Thor’s signet ring, never breaking eye contact.


“Well, cease,” Thor says stupidly. “Because your efforts are wasted on me.”

“I’d get down on my knees, scrub mighty Asgard’s halls.” Loki goes on. “Would that please you instead? A sufficient demonstration my most humble remorse? Or would you prefer if I prostrated myself before you? Licked your boots?”

“Fine, do it,” Thor says. He had meant to say it in exasperation and call Loki’s bluff, but it came out sounding...a bit too eager.

Loki immediately silences and looks up at him intently with narrowed eyes.

Thor’s mouth goes dry. “I did not mean – “ His collar suddenly feels rather hot. He thinks to flee, but he’s somehow rooted as though his boots were made of lead. “You misunderstand me.”

“Oh, brother,” Loki says, eyes suddenly gleaming with dark intent, “I think I understand you perfectly.” At that he licks his lips, and dips his head down to lick along the edge of Thor’s boot.

Although he feels no physical sensation, Thor shudders at the sight of his brother bowed low at his feet, demeaning himself thus –

“Loki, stop, this is madness,” He manages to croak as Loki’s pink tongue swipes up the side. “This imprisonment has made you mad.”

“Desperate,” Loki murmurs, slithering back up Thor’s body into a kneeling position. The heat of his damp breath soaks through Thor’s breeches, and his cock twitches with interest. Thor is horrified at himself, but Loki merely smirks into the fabric. “And it appears I may not be the only one.”

His face is now level with Thor’s cock, which despite Thor’s better judgement, is beginning to fill. Loki is beautiful, Gods help him, beautiful and depraved, kneeling before him like this. Thor panics, feeling exposed even though it is Loki who is on his knees. He is discovered; the corrupt lust that had lain dormant for so long bursts forth, betraying his deepest, most secret desires. Thor is disgusted, both at himself and at Loki, and reacts unthinkingly.

Thor backhands Loki across the face.

Loki cries out and collapses to the floor. His hair obstructs his face, but from the way he gingerly touches his lip, Thor can tell he’s hurt him – cut with the very ring he’d just kissed.  

“I’m sorry,” Thor blurts out, appalled. “I must go. Rest now, brother, that you might yet come to your senses.”   He turns on his heels and flees. That was not supposed to happen. What is wrong with him? He thinks he hears Loki call after him, but he hardens his heart against it. He must get out of here.

The scream that follows him down the stairwell chills him to the marrow.


Thor drinks.

He drinks to numb his mind and dull his senses. He drinks to forget.

He passes out in a drunken stupor three nights in a row and dreams of filthy lips and raven hair. Upon waking, he finds himself hard and wanting, but refuses to do anything about it out of principle. His resolve crumbles not long thereafter and he finds his pleasure with Loki’s name on his tongue.

Frigga is justly alarmed.

 “My son, I beseech you,” She pleads “Tell me what troubles you.”

 How could he? How could he admit to his own mother the sick desire he feels for her second son? His own brother? Thor gives some transparent, half-hearted excuse – something about the heavy burden of kingship, the stress of a new marriage, Thor can’t really remember. Seeing that she is getting nowhere, Frigga begs him, at the very least, to lay down the bottle and show some decorum. Thor obliges out of love for her, but without drink, there is nothing to keep tainted thoughts from forming unbidden in his mind. Desperately, Thor turns his attention towards his wife, as is honorable, in the hopes that he could find respite in her arms.

It is hard to find satisfaction with one as passionless as she.

Her face twists in agony when Thor finally enters her.

“No, keep going,” she moans. “You must finish.”

“I am sorry,” Thor says dumbly.  She is tight, as good chaste ladies are, but her girlish squeals of pain grate at Thor’s nerves and wilt his erection. He tries to maintain it by fondling her breasts through her nightgown, which she stubbornly refuses to remove.

“Just go slow,” She grits her teeth as though this were the worst of tortures. It’s torture for Thor, too, to have to hold himself back and not rut as he pleases. He’ll never spill at this rate.

He pumps into her as gently as he is able, and still she does not loosen. He tries to touch her and perhaps bring her some pleasure but she bats his hand away.

“No, don’t.”

Thor groans, annoyed. “Why not?”

“It’s not proper. Just.....just keep going. ”

Thor pulls out and takes himself in hand, pumping himself at a much faster rate.

She gasps, horrified.  “What are you doing?”

Thor ignores her. He must sire a child, and this is the only way he can bring himself to do it. The sinful image of Loki on his knees flashes in Thor’s mind, and a fresh pulse of pleasure courses up Thor’s spine. Loki opens his mouth, tracing the outline of Thor’s hard cock through his breeches and –

Thor is coming. He quickly re-enters his wife and releases deep inside her, drawing in mighty gasps of air as he does so. She makes some noise but he is deaf to everything but the pounding in his head.

Gróa is frozen underneath him, gazing at the ceiling somewhere past Thor’s shoulder. When he is finished, Thor unceremoniously rolls off her and onto his side.

Neither of them speak. Thor hates this, and knows she must too.

So it goes.


Thor is a fool.

A soft, warm-hearted fool and he knows it.

Perhaps he thinks he can just wipe the memory of their last meeting from his mind and start afresh; perhaps he wishes to distract himself from the troubles in his marriage bed. Either way, Thor once again finds himself climbing the spiral stairs up to Loki’s tower cell. Thor admits he was being a coward for avoiding him, but then again, would anyone want to face the fact that they are hopelessly in lust with their own brother?

His fears are unfounded.

Thor doesn’t mention what happened, and neither does Loki. They talk, and it’s pleasant enough, if somewhat clipped. Loki has pulled himself together since his outburst, and replies coolly when Thor tries to pry conversation from him. Even his hair, which is starting to grow long, is braided into submission. It seems like the impish, playful spark Thor so loved has faded from him. The torque weighs heavy on his shoulders, and Thor notices he often reaches up to rub at the raw skin underneath. Loki grows wearier and wearier with each passing day, and doesn’t pick a fight even when Thor gives him an opening to do so. It’s....distressing.

Alarmed, Thor goes to Odin, but the Allfather is steadfast.

“Loki must be contained,” he says simply.

“To what end? Forever? Father, he’s wasting away.”

Odin gives no answer, and closes the matter with a wave of his hand.


It is Loki’s name-day.

Or, at least, the day they’d usually celebrated as his name-day.  Thor realizes he doesn’t even know when Loki’s true name-day is. It matters not. The important thing is that this year at least, Thor hadn’t forgotten. And he’s determined to make Loki smile, even if it’s just in exasperation.

He knocks at the heavy wooden door. No answer. He knocks again, more loudly this time. Each time visits, he can’t help but worry he’ll find his brother dead on the other side. Thor’s heart pounds in the silence.


“What?” Comes the irritated reply.

“It’s me,” Thor says, relieved. He doesn’t have to elaborate further. He knows he’s the only one who ever visits him.

 There is a pause. Then, “Enter.”

Loki is lying in bed, curled into himself, but he sits up when Thor comes in. There are bags under his eyes, and his cheeks are hollow. Thor wisely chooses not to comment on the fact that it’s past noon and Loki evidentially still hadn’t gotten up.

 “I brought you something,” Thor says, trying to lighten the mood, and sets his load down on the table.

Loki rubs at his eyes, then stiffly rises out of bed to inspect the offering.

“Books,” Loki says, rather obviously.


“Magic books.”


Loki thumbs a cover. “And what, pray, will I do with magic books, now that I’m denied my ability to cast?”

Thor has no answer, and he scratches his neck sheepishly. “Ah, right.”

Loki takes stock of the titles in the pile. His cuticles are raw; he’d been gnawing them bloody.

“It’s your name-day.” Thor explains.

“Oh.” Loki ‘s brows furrow. “I must have lost track of time.”

“I know the Allfather forbade magic books from you, but I thought.....I thought they might give you some comfort.”

Loki searches Thor’s face for a minute, eyes unreadable, then turns back to his present.

“The Incantations of Esmer.” Loki pulls a tome from the pile and flips through its pages reverentially.  “This one was my favorite. The illuminations - such fine craftsmanship in the calligraphy and miniatures. Ink of lapis lazuli, gold leaf. The frontispiece alone..... It must have taken the scribe a year to finish. And the spells...”Loki’s voice trails off. “Such spells that could shift the very nature of space and time and matter.....”

Thor peers down over Loki’s shoulder, but fails to be as impressed as his brother evidently is. Thor was never the scholarly sort.

Loki closes it abruptly. “All the good it does me now. Tell me brother, does it please you to taunt me?”

 “I’m sorry,” Thor says dumbly.  “I did not realize, I simply –“

“-Weren’t thinking.” Loki finishes with a sigh.  “As you are wont. Well, your good intentions are not unappreciated. It eases my mind knowing they’re here where I can cherish them, rather than have them gather dust on some forgotten shelf.”

“I could bring you some other books, if it would help to occupy you. Perhaps a history of Asgard, or a bestiary -”

“So you can relieve your troubled conscience?” Loki sneers. “Don’t bother. I’d rather sit in this tower and count the stones.”

“Then you are a stubborn ox.”

“Better a stubborn ox than an insensitive, unthinking, insufferable oaf!”

They glare at each other for a few tense moments, but then Loki’s face cracks into a tiny smile, and suddenly Thor is laughing.

Are you always so merry when you are insulted?”

“It would please you to know that I only allow such abuse from your most august self. Oh, and that reminds me -“ Thor pulls a container out of his satchel, “I had the kitchens make this for you, little though you deserve it.”

Loki lights up when he sees what it is – candied fruit – and grabs the container greedily. Thor tries to hide his delight in Loki’s boyish love of sweets.

“Ah, now that’s more like it.” Loki takes a seat at his table and immediately pops a piece into his mouth. He chews obscenely with an exaggerated moan for Thor’s benefit, which only makes Thor roll his eyes. People think Thor has poor manners, but in private, Loki is truly the worse of the two. Not that Thor minds; it’s so good to see the old Loki is not completely gone. This is the first he’s seemed somewhat normal in months. Thor chuckles and sits down next to him.

“Are you going to share?”


“I see your manners have not ameliorated.”

Loki is already reaching for another piece. “Your talking is spoiling this moment for me.”

 “Fine,” Thor laughs. “You could use the extra nourishment anyways. Put some meat on your frame.”

 It’s true. Loki is thin, too thin.

 “I worry about you, you know.”

Loki shoots him a look, mouth half full. Thor would laugh if he didn’t value his life quite so much.

 “So you come up here check on me, make sure I have not gone entirely mad.” Loki says between bites. “I know.”

 “I come to keep you company. For your company.”

Loki licks the sugar off his fingers and Thor pretends not to watch. “No one else proves interesting enough for you, so you feel the need to come up here and bother me?”

Thor grins. “Something like that.”

“Gróa must be dull indeed.” Loki inhales another piece. “Pretty little wife at your beck and call and instead you choose to spend your spare time with me.”

 “She’s not so bad. She inquires after your health.”

Loki snorts. “Funny. And they call me a liar.”

“She does not know you as I do,” Thor says. “That’s all.”

Loki’s eyes are distant. “Nobody does.”

He eats in silence for a moment while Thor watches.

 “For my company,” Loki echoes thoughtfully, apropos nothing.

“Hm?” Thor’s thoughts had roamed elsewhere.

Loki sits back, having eaten the half the contents of the container. Stars! Do they not feed him up here?

“And just what is it about my company that you seek?”

“Uh,” Thor says, unsure of where this is going, but already feeling hot under the collar. He feigns disinterest.  “What do you mean?”

Loki casually pops another piece in his mouth. “Well, I don’t know. If it’s company you’re looking for, then you may as well acknowledge how you hardened at the sight of me at your feet.”

Thor chokes on his own spittle. He was certainly ill-prepared for Loki’s blunt manner of speaking. “That was – “

“Rather unexpected, I’ll have to admit. Even I was taken aback by the extent of your depravity. I knew you desired me, but that...”

“Loki,” Thor gawks, “You – you’re my brother.”

“The forbidden fruit, as it were. Ironic that you could have any comely girl that caught your eye, but the one thing you truly desired above all else was ever denied to you." Loki says. "And you are unused to being refused."

Denial is hot on Thor’s lips. “You do not know of what you speak.”

“How very fortunate, then, to discover we are not of the same lineage.” Loki goes on carelessly. “That news must have greatly eased your mind. I am no more your blood than the whores you take to your bed. But unlike them –“ Loki’s eyes glitter malevolently, “- I have it in me to give you what you truly need.”

“And what is that, pray?” Thor says, before he can help himself.

Loki smiles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You want to hurt me.”

Thor is aghast. “Never. I could never do you harm.”

 “Lies do not become you, my brother. I know you do. There’s darkness in you, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. Tell me, how long have you so desired me? Since we were youths? Or  perhaps -” Loki considers him carefully, “ - since you found out I am a Jotun imposter? That I am a monster, dually sexed, like the others of my kind?” Loki sneers.”The Allfather failed to tell you that, didn’t he? Or is my condition precisely what fans your dark lusts?”

 Thor’s heart races. “Enough.”

 “Oh, and I could give you perversion, brother, such that could not be found in even the most degenerate of brothels. I am, after all, but a savage, lacking the moral integrity of the noble Aesir. You could give me your full strength, rut me like a bitch, just as you crave. I hear that is what they do in Jotunheim. I can take it. I could satisfy you like no other. I could slake your lust like your icy little wife never could.”

 “Enough!” Thor shouts, rising to his feet. He is overcome with the urge to strike Loki and silence that cursed tongue of his, but resists lest he add fuel to Loki’s fire. He bends low to Loki’s face.“You spew such lies.”

“Perhaps.” Loki says idly. “Or perhaps I speak the truth you never dared to acknowledge.”

Thor snarls, at a loss for words.

“I’ll have them send more books up to you,” Thor says, turning to leave. “Perhaps some time alone will clear your head of such madness.”

He slams the door behind him, bolts it, and marches straight for the kitchens. He corners a nameless scullery maid, utters a few cheap words of persuasion, and has her against the wall.  She does not refuse him, but after he’s done he notices a limp in her step. Perhaps he is an animal.

Exhausted, he climbs into bed with Gróa. He easily makes himself hard again and fists himself until he’s ready to spill inside her. Gróa allows this with grim resolve and parts her legs obligingly when she sees Thor is close. Thor comes with a soft grunt, pulls out, and collapses into a dreamless sleep. He pretends not to hear her cry.


One thing about Loki -  at least his company is interesting.

To the outside, Loki would be anything but. Loki was always quiet, bookish, introverted, and never one to seek attention. But he has a sharp wit and a sharper tongue, and a dry sense of humor that only Thor seems to truly relish. Thor may have his boorish pranks, but Loki was ever the true trickster.  Sometimes they would ally themselves to exasperate the palace servants.  Thor chuckles to even think on it. Once, Loki had turned a bag of dried beans into spiders (a prank gone awry) and no less than four kitchen maids had fainted with fright. Thor never laughed so hard in his life. Another time, Loki used his magic to create a distraction when Thor was caught half-naked in a haystack with the stablemaster’s wife, allowing him to slip away in a most indecent state of undress. Odin always came down harder on Loki, so Thor would often take the blame for his brother. If he was completely honest, he was happy to do so, because in return, Loki would sneak him sweetmeats late at night when Thor was sent to his chambers with no dessert. They’d stay up till morn, eat their fill and talk of their next adventure.

Those were the days Thor misses the most.

He thinks on this as he sits in Gróa’s torturously polite company.

“How was your day, husband?” she asks primly over her supper, right on cue.

Thor answers with an automaticity that is truly pitiful. “Well. Thank you. And yours?”

“Very well. I took high tea with the Allmother and the seamstress came to fix the hem of my brocade dress.”

“That’s good.”

“And I finished my needlework piece, the embroidery on your white tunic. You will have to try it on again. You will look so handsome in it.”

“Mmmm,” Thor says, but that might just be because the mutton is particularly delicious tonight. Thor knows he is no intellectual, but he’s certainly twice the conversationalist Gróa is. She runs through her tiresome news, seemingly oblivious of Thor’s indifference.

“You went to see your brother today,” she says, feigning nonchalance. “Is he well?”

The mental image of Loki arranged lewdly on his bed, touching the sweet unknown between his legs, flashes in Thor’s mind.  He beats it down and doesn’t allow his face to register any emotion.

“He is restless. He has......not taken to his imprisonment well.”

Gróa hums. She mistrusts him – as, perhaps, she ought – but she knows better than to forbid Thor his little visits.......not that he’d obey anyway. “He always was rather unpredictable.”

Thor downs the rest of his mead. “Indeed.”


Thor goes to Gróa a few nights later, as is expected of him. He’d been avoiding her for the last week. Not because he harbors ill-will towards her; she is simply......boring. She’s prim and ladylike and well-mannered in the way that perfect wives are, but that hardly makes her a perfect companion. Things came to a head when Frigga took Thor aside to remind him of his dynastic duty. It appears Gróa had been complaining that Thor has been neglectful of late. It was awkward, to say the least, having his mother remind him of the importance of a warm bed to a successful marriage.

“Your allegiance is firstly to her,” She says. “Not to your brother.”

 So, up he comes, for another bout of lukewarm lovemaking, if only to get them both off his back. Such is his lot in life.

 Gróa is at her vanity, dressed only in her white nightgown. She looks lovely, which makes it all the more disappointing that Thor can’t bed her as he likes.

“Husband,” She greets, watching him come in through the reflection in her mirror.

“Good evening, sweetheart.” He presses a quick, cordial kiss to the back of her head. “You are well?”

“Very,” She preens under his attention.

 Thor begins to divest himself of his armor, rolling his shoulders when he’s finally free. After today’s spar, he is ready to fall into bed and sleep until midday. Perhaps he can just tell Gróa he’s too tired?

“I was thinking,” she says casually as she brushes her long golden hair, “You should ask the Allfather for more rooms.”

 “Yes? To fit your wardrobe?” Thor teases gently, but partially means it.

She smiles broadly. “No, silly. For the nursery, of course.”  Thor perks up, suddenly very interested.

“It is soon,” Gróa says hurriedly as she rises to face him. “Very soon. But I missed my monthly bleed again, and the midwives say it is a good sign. I could not wait to tell you.”

Thor crosses the room to embrace her, lifting her off her feet. Amazing, how one’s feelings towards another can change in an instant. “That’s wonderful,” Thor exclaims, grinning like a fool. A child. An heir, at last. Gróa laughs, and presses a kiss to Thor’s lips.

They retire to their bed, and it is the most comfortable it’s ever been between them. The news has lessened the strain of being in each other’s company . If she is indeed pregnant, Thor is forbidden from making love to her until well after the birth of the child. She is evidently self-satisfied at having fulfilled her purpose, and although it angers Thor that she resents her wifely duties so, he must admit he’s relieved that he too no longer must suffer their cold couplings. After she bears a few children he can avoid her bed altogether.

She snuggles next to him and rests her cheek upon his chest.

“A son,” she says dreamily. “I can feel it.”

Thor waits until she is asleep before he sneaks away to celebrate with that dark-haired laundress.


Thor is drunk.

His stumbles up the flights of stairs towards Loki’s tower as if pulled by an inescapable, invisible force. This is a mistake, he knows already. But then, he is a fool and always has been.

Loki only raises a single eyebrow when Thor comes barrelling in. He is tucked into the nook next to his only window, open book on his lap, illuminated by the flicker of his hearth. Thor swallows down his initial inclination to find him beautiful.

“Brother,” Loki says coolly.

“You are not asleep?” Thor says, rather stupidly, because it is obvious he is not. “It is late.”

“With all the excitement going on in the Great Hall?” Loki says dryly, “I couldn’t possibly.”

So they shook the very rafters with their boisterous feasting. Thor is a little proud. “You heard us.”

“Valhalla probably heard you.”

Thor laughs easily and blames the drink for it. He sinks himself down onto Loki’s plush armchair with a mighty oomph to keep himself from staggering on his feet.

 ‘Gróa is with child,” Thor blurts out. He finds that he’s grinning like a fool but can’t seem to stop. “We were celebrating.”

“I know,” Loki shuts the book and does not elaborate how he obtained the news.“How very wonderful that you were able to pry her frigid legs far enough apart to plant your seed.”

It’s true, but Thor does not like hearing it. He’s rather protective of Gróa now. “Do not speak of my lady in such vulgar terms.”

“Ah. Of course.” Loki quiets and turns his gaze back towards the window.

Thor sighs. He had come here hoping Loki would share in his joy, not mope about like some sulky adolescent. Thor goes on: “The diviners say she will give birth on the summer solstice. They say it is a good omen.”

“A golden child for my sun-kissed brother.”

Thor’s head swims. He shouldn’t have come up here in such a state.  He should have cleared his mind by finding a pretty bed warmer, even if his pleasure has been muted of late. In fact, Thor cannot find satisfaction in anything. Not in wine, not in lovemaking, not in song. Even the blessed news of his child’s conception is diminished. There is something wrong with him and he doesn’t know what it is or how to fix it.

Loki sets his book aside. “Well, congratulations, brother. I’m sure you will make a wonderful father.”

Is Loki being sarcastic? He doesn’t sound like it, for once.  He may mean it.

“Thank you.” Thor replies, equally earnest. “And you a wonderful uncle. I’ll make sure my child knows you and loves you as I do.”

“Ha,” Loki smirks. “Gróa would love that.”

“Gróa will do as she is bid.” Thor says dismissively. “You are my brother. Nothing has changed that.”

Loki hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t reply.

“I missed you at the feast,” Thor admits. “Like on my wedding day. It’s not the same without you by my side.”

Loki traces a pattern against the glass with a fingertip. “My present condition dampens my will to make merry.”

Thor sighs. He could point out, once again, that this punishment was Loki’s own doing, that all this came about by his own mischief, but there is no reasoning with him when he’s being so morose. Besides, Thor is not looking to pick a fight.

The silence is stifling. Loki is impenetrably distant, and Thor longs for him, for things to be as they once were. They used to be the backwards way that brothers sometimes are.  Thor would tease, and Loki would sulk.  Thor would run; Loki was ever at his heels. Loki is his other half, his opposite and complement. Thor tries to think when things changed between them but can’t settle on a decisive moment. Everything is in disarray now; Thor doesn’t know how to relate to his brother or how to handle the darkness Loki stirs in him.

 “Drink with me, at least,” Thor pleads. “Like old times.”

“If I did, would you leave me in peace?” Loki says.

Thor produces a bottle and two glasses from his sack with a chuckle. “I have always taken pleasure in annoying you. Here, I brought you some mulled wine, you ungrateful lout.”

Loki’s interest is piqued, and he finally pulls himself away from his alcove.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Loki observes, but takes a glass anyways. He allows Thor to sloppily fill it and doesn’t say anything when Thor spills on the stone floor.

“Have you ever known me to be temperate?”  Thor says. “Humor me. It is a blessed day, and I am in good cheer.” He pours himself a generous cupful and sets the emptied bottle down.

“To my lord’s firstborn,” Loki murmurs, raising his glass.

“Aye,” Thor agrees, “The heir of Asgard.”

 They drink. Thor downs his glass, and decides to ignore the fact that Loki did not drink much from his own cup.

The rush is immediate. Thor’s vision swims, addled with alcohol.  It was a poor decision to come up here in the first place, especially in his uninhibited state. Loki stands before him, pale and tall and lovely, dark hair slicked back into a braid to show off his fine angular features. He wears no armor, donning instead a soft-looking robe that nips in at his narrow waist and makes him look impossibly graceful. Damn it all to Hel! Thor hopes his child will inherit his mother’s constancy and not his brash impulsivity.

“Come here,” he rasps.

Loki raises a single eyebrow, but does as he is bid. As soon as he is in arm’s length, Thor pulls him down perhaps a little too forcefully, and Loki lands sprawled onto his lap.

“Ah,” Loki smiles, as if somehow vindicated.

“This isn’t,” Thor feels the need to explain, but his head feels cloudy and muddled and the words simply do not materialize. “I just....want to look at you.”

“You’re drunk,” Loki says flatly.

“Not so drunk that I cannot see.” Loki is a warm weight on his lap, slim but solid, and so unlike Gróa’s delicate constitution. Thor takes Loki’s face in his hands. His eyes are luminous and crystalline, like looking into shattered glass.

“I miss you,” Thor says, somewhat pitifully. “So much, it’s a void, and I can’t -”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You always did get clingy when you were drunk.”

“Can you just listen?” Thor huffs. “You always twist my words into jest.”

“I’m sorry. I will be serious.” Loki makes a show of raising his eyebrows attentively. ”Speak, then.”

Thor can’t remember what he was talking about. It is so hard to think with Loki pressed up against him, warm and heavy.

“I, uh.”  Thor tilts his head forward, so that his forehead is almost touching Loki’s. “I just want you to know that I miss you. Not just tonight, but all the time. I miss the way things were between us. When we were close.”

“But brother, we are close.” Loki says. “In case you haven’t noticed.” He settles himself more comfortably on Thor’s lap, facing him, knees astride, and rocks his hips against Thor’s. A bolt of unwanted arousal spikes up Thor’s spine.

Thor groans. “Loki...”

“I knew you’d come back.” Loki says hotly into his ear. “As you say, you have no stomach for temperance.

Thor ought to shove him off his lap. He rests his hands on Loki’s waist with every intention of doing so, but he can feel Loki’s hipbones through the material, and ends up caressing him instead.

 “You’ve considered my offer, then.” Loki continues, more as a statement then a question, like he knows it’s all Thor can think of, that it invades his every thought, every dream. That it makes every other pleasure pale in comparison. That Thor is, without a doubt, obsessed.

“I – “ Thor chokes. “You should stop, Loki.”

“Then push me away.”

Thor doesn’t. He can’t, not when he needs this so badly.

“I know you want me,” Loki says.

He doesn’t deny; Thor cannot spin a lie like Loki can.

“Have you not thought about what it would be like to mount me?” Loki goes on in that mercilessly sinful voice. “About what is between my legs, now that I am unable to work my glamour to disguise my malformation?”

Thor mouth is so dry he can hardly form words. “You are not malformed.”

Anger flashes suddenly in Loki’s eyes. “No?  Well that is what your noble Allfather had me believe all these years. That I was a freak, a mutant. He bade me to hide it so as not to sully himself by association. But the fact remains that I am a monster, like the rest of my kind.  So don’t try to pacify me. I’d rather wallow in my debased nature than suffer your pity and petty reassurances.” Loki places Thor’s hand on his leg.  “Sate your curiosity, judge for yourself.”

Loki’s skin is smooth and hairless and impossibly soft. Thor strokes it for a moment wonderingly, then against his better judgement, dips his hand up underneath Loki’s robes, finding him bare underneath. Loki shifts his weight on Thor’s lap to accommodate the probing arm, but otherwise holds very still to allow Thor access.

Loki lets out a small huff of air when Thor finally touches the lips of his cunt, but his face betrays little else.  Loki has his guard up, even in this, and there is a building need in Thor’s chest to see him utterly come apart.

“Kiss me,” Thor says.

Loki narrows his eyes. “Whatever for?”

“Because I want,” Thor says, too cloudy to articulate himself in any coherent manner. “I want you to.”

Loki gauges him for a moment, but then tilts his head down to oblige. The first press of lips is tentative, even chaste, and Thor wonders whether Loki might be a bit shy, for all his talk.

Thor tries to work Loki’s mouth open, but he senses there is some barrier there still. He roots his other hand into Loki’s hair and holds him in place, then shoves two fingers up Loki’s cunt abruptly.

Loki gasps, and Thor utilizes the moment to deepen their kiss, pulling Loki closer and feeling inside him with both mouth and fingers. Loki’s skin is cool to the touch, but he’s scorching hot inside and it makes Thor dizzy with want. Thor feels around, exploring, then presses upward on his spongy front walls in a way he knows women like. His efforts are rewarded by a beautiful shudder.

“Enough,” Loki snaps, pushing Thor back and climbing off his lap. He straightens his robes coolly, but there is a telltale flush to his cheeks.  “Satisfied?”

Hardly. Thor’s appetite has only been whetted. Up until this point, Thor would have never thought he’d give in to Loki’s offer, no matter how much he’d been tempted to do so. Thor grants that he is often ruled by his lusts, a slave to passion, but there are certain boundaries he thought he’d never cross.  Thor always believed himself a better man than that.

Evidently not.

 “I want to see,” Thor croaks. His voice is low and hoarse and foreign-sounding even to his own ears. Loki’s slick is still upon his two fingers, and he rubs them together, savoring the consistency. He gets up and trails after his brother before he can stop himself. Loki has flattened himself against the wall, primed and tense like a trapped animal, as though he’s readying himself to fight Thor off should he come any closer. He seemed so poised and unaffected mere moments ago, but up close Thor can see that his eyes are a bit bewildered. This only makes Thor’s desire burn hotter.

“Ah, ah,” Loki taunts, sing-song.“I need your word first.”

Thor grabs his wrist, but Loki wrenches it back before Thor can really grip him. Even cornered, his eyes blaze bright and defiant.

“Your word Thor,” Loki repeats firmly, “That upon your ascension to the throne, you will free me from this wretched torque and reinstate my place at court, give me back my chambers and household, and grant me a position in your retinue.”

“You ask too much,” Thor says, losing patience. “The court would never accept it.”

“They would if their King wished it to be so,” Loki argues. “High King Thor, Ruler of Asgard, my lord and master. They all love you, and would follow you to the plains of Hel and back. I’d serve you too, brother. I would put my magicks to whatever use you see fit, to your glory and honor, in battle or in peace. I would be an asset to you, do not dare deny. On this I give you my word.”

Thor snorts. “Your word for mine? Forgive my skepticism, but your word means little.”

“I have other gifts too,” Loki goes on, dripping filth. “You know what I’d do for it.”

Thor is a fool to even consider such a thing. Unbound, Loki is dangerous, an unknown quantity; the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard. He wreaks havoc in his wake. He is volatile, unpredictable, uncontainable.

But damn him, Thor wants.

“What if I refused, and took you by force?”

Loki’s face betrays little other than a slight purse of lips. “Then I throw myself on your mercy, brother, and upon your love for me, if indeed such love still exists.”

“You know it does.” Thor says.

Loki cocks his head and bears his neck, uncharacteristically submissive. His words are honeysweet. “So let me give myself to your willingly. Hm? Let me please you in the way that only I can.”

Thor wants to hear him say it. “You’ll give me...”

“Anything.” Loki says, eyes brimming with dark promise. Loki is ever the performer; he has Thor enthralled and knows it. “I meant it when I said it. Tie me, hit me, humiliate me. Don’t you want to punish me for the mischief I’ve caused? For bringing chaos to your precious Midgard? I will let you fuck me. I know you want to, and I have nothing left in this world to lose.”

A wave of heat hits Thor hard, shooting straight to his cock. To hear proud, noble Loki to speak so crudely.......

 “Say that again.” Thor growls.

Loki does not hesitate, and smirks knowingly. “Fuck me,Thor. Fuck me like the whore I so obviously am.”

“Brother.” Thor moans, almost helplessly. He’s so painfully hard that he grinds himself against Loki’s thigh like an inexperienced boy. “I want you.”

“Then swear it. You know my terms.”


“One word, Thor. One word and I’m yours.”

Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn. Thor has never desired anything else in his life more than this. He will regret it, he knows it.  But for the fact that wants Loki’s permission to do this, to take with force but not by force, Thor would have certainly just ravished him.

“I swear.”

“On the almighty Allfather,” Loki adds for good measure. “And on your honor as future King of Asgard.”

“By the gods,” Thor growls, exasperated. “On the Allfather, on the Allmother, on Gróa’s cunt itself, I solemnly swear. Now, Loki, please.”

Loki seems satisfied by this, and he loosens his stance with a curt nod. It’s enough an invitation as any, and Thor is upon him at once.

He crashes his lips against Loki’s, and Loki parts for him obediently. His mouth is so hot, so sweet, so receptive. Thor presses his tongue inside and explores, and is pleased to find Loki matching his eagerness. Loki is breathless and flushed when Thor finally pulls away.

“Take it off.” Thor grunts, clawing at the robe. “I want to see you.”

Loki complies and begins to undo the buttons at his throat. He’s maddeningly slow about it, and Thor quickly loses patience. He growls and takes a fistful of the fabric in his hand, wrenching it so hard Loki staggers. Buttons go flying, a seam bursts, and Loki yelps in what could be a surprise. The robe pools to the floor at Loki’s feet, discarded, leaving him nude. And Loki is beautiful: deathly pale and lean, narrow-waisted and elegant. Hairless, too, save for a nest of dark curls above his cock. From this angle, he appears entirely male, but Thor knows he hides his feminine sex between his legs. Only the torque still remains, gleaming wickedly in the firelight.

“Your hair too,” Thor adds. “Let down your hair.”

Loki raises his hands to unknot the tie. He fumbles and purses his lips; Thor can see his fingers quiver. When the braid is undone, he shakes out his hair, which spills over his shoulders in silken waves. He’s otherworldly.

“On the bed,” Thor orders, but takes hold of the torque and half-drags him anyway. He’s being too rough and knows it, but cannot wait any longer.

Loki lands on his hands and knees, but he scrambles backwards before Thor can descend upon him. He flips himself over onto his back and grins.

“Eager, my lord?”

He kicks his legs when Thor nears, and it takes a few moments of struggle before Thor manages to subdue him. Loki laughs, half-mad and wild-eyed.

“Be still!” Thor growls. “You promised to submit!”

“Aye,” Loki says, “But you like a bit of fight, don’t you?” He thrashes – a token effort, for there is no dislodging Thor now - “A bit of passion? A man like you needs fire in his bed. No wonder your pretty little wife cannot keep you from straying.”

Thor slaps him, and Loki’s head whips to one side.

“I tire of your games.” Thor hisses. “I am beginning to think that either you are mad, or you crave punishment. Is that it?  Do you enjoy pain?”

“Better to feel pain than nothing,” Loki says cryptically. His chest heaves with every shaky breath, and it dawns on Thor that he might be nervous.


He should be.

“Then I will have your pain and pleasure both,” Thor says, ridding himself of his tunic. “Spread your legs so that I may look upon you.”

Loki cheeks go a slight shade of pink. “You mean to gawk at the freak?” he says, but does as he is bid.

Straightaway, he pulls his cock out of the way to give Thor a perfect view of his cunt. Thor drinks in the sight. Usually his trysts involve bunched-up skirts in dimly-lit corridors, and his wife certainly would never allow him to look upon her so lewdly. Few women are confident enough to allow Thor to pleasure them with his mouth, but of those who do - well. Thor has never heard any complaints. Loki’s slit is hairless, the lightest shade of rose, and Thor wonders what sort of noises Loki would make.

 Loki smirks coquettishly and rubs at himself, then pulls the lips slightly apart with his fingers, baring the dark pink flesh within. “Who would have guessed this is what gets you off?”

“Tease,” Thor growls, and reaches down to sink his fingers into the folds himself. Loki jerks, but stays still. He’s warm and wet inside; tight and inviting. Thor thrusts his fingers in and out, pleased to find them coating with slick. Thor has no idea if Loki is enjoying this or not; his pleasure is not exactly at the forefront of Thor’s mind. Still, he enjoys the sight of Loki writhing under him, so he curls his fingers and presses up on Loki’s inner walls. Loki gasps and rocks into him rhythmically. It’s the most wanton thing Thor has ever seen, and his cock aches for stimulation.

“Touch me,” Thor demands, guiding Loki’s hand down to his hard prick. Loki makes quick work of the laces on Thor’s breeches and slips his hand inside, taking Thor’s girth into his hand.

“Oh,” Loki says softly.

Thor laughs. He knows he is well-endowed, even for his stature, and he will never tire of that stunned look on his bedmates’ faces when they feel his full hardness for themselves.

“Having second thoughts?”

“I can take anything you give me,” Loki snaps, and begins to stroke Thor languidly, but not before Thor all but tears off the rest of his clothing. Now, when he sinks down onto Loki, all he feels is the softness of Loki’s skin against his own. He thrusts into Loki’s finely boned hand and grunts. It would be so easy to spill like this, with the warmth of his brother underneath him at last, but that would be an unpardonable waste.

Loki’s strokes him awkwardly, like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing.

“Has any man ever had you?” Thor asks it out of curiosity first, but he’s instantaneously struck with an overwhelming wave of possessiveness, and he prays the answer is no.

Loki raises an eyebrow at him and stops stroking for a moment. “Jealous, brother?”

Yes, inexplicably.

“Who?” Thor demands. “Who has known you?”

“It is of no import,” Loki says flippantly, “I am yours now.”

“To f –“ Thor can’t even bring himself to utter it. “That word. Say it.”

Loki smirks, licks his lips, and drags his fist down Thor’s length for emphasis, making him groan. “I am yours to fuck.”

Thor takes Loki by the underside of his thighs and drags him forward, legs spread and inviting. Ever the tease, Loki wriggles a bit just to make Thor grip him harder. Thor rumbles and orders him to be still, but he has to admit, there is a certain pleasure in finally pinning his flighty brother down.

He tries to think who it was that could have taken Loki’s virginity. Who was close to Loki, that Loki would uncross his legs for? Loki never had many friends, and no lovers to Thor’s knowledge. The only person Thor can think of as a possibility is....well, himself. Thor is consumed by envy, and deeply slighted. It should have been him. Why did his brother not come to him first? It is Thor who loves him like no other; does he not tell him so all the time?

Thor’s fingers sink low, past Loki’s cunt, to rub at his other hole. “What about here?”

Loki immediately jerks and tenses, fingers clawing into the meat of Thor’s shoulders. His seductive veneer drops altogether, to be replaced with pure, exquisite vulnerability. His eyebrows knit, and his lips part in an audible gasp. This, this is what Thor decides he wants.  Loki has always been the cleverer of the two, and Thor has never before caught him unawares. Loki’s never been more beautiful, more honest than in this moment. For the first time, he looks completely and utterly lost.

It’s intoxicating.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Loki spits and struggles futilely against Thor’s grip. It’s not a playful fight anymore; he’s actually trying to get out from underneath him. He’s much weakened without his magic, however, and Thor easily keeps him down. “You animal, you wouldn’t dare, I offered – “

“I already have a cunt,” Thor says, unable to believe what is coming out of his mouth. “And that of any maid I wish. You said anything, did you not?”

Loki tenses his jaw.

“Speak brother, or have you lost your silver tongue?”

“if you released me I would give you such a show,” Loki says, voice wavering, “I’d ride you to exhaustion. I’d take you down my throat. I’d put the cheapest whores of Haverigg to shame if you would not do this base thing.”

Such pretty words, but Thor is too far gone for redemption. He doesn’t simply want to bed Loki, he wants to own him, leave an indelible mark upon him, and this is the only way he thinks how.

“You will give me what I cannot ask of my wife.”  Thor says. “I will take this and nothing else.”

At that, Thor wets his fingers with his saliva and slips one partway in, making Loki cry out. Unlike Loki’s cunt, his hole is dry and furled tight on itself. He works his finger in, trying to loosen it up somewhat.  He’ll have to find some way to slick it, else this will not be pleasurable for either of them. Thor grips Loki firmly at the neck to keep him at bay, then reaches to his bedside table and dips his fingers into an unlit oil lamp. He brings the slick down to his length and strokes it a few times to coat it.

Loki tries to close his legs, but it’s impossible with the Thor’s bulk in the way.

“Stop, Thor.” Loki pleads, clawing frantically at the hand around his throat. “Brother, I beg of you.”

Why? Why should he? Loki is his prisoner. Thor is the one who brought him back to Asgard; he will do with him what he likes.

 “You’ll hurt me.” Loki finally admits.

 “I thought that was the point? To punish you?”

Loki grits his teeth. He must realize he’s finally lost control of the situation.

“Then roll me over and be done with it,” he spits. He tries to maintain an air of nonchalance, but there’s genuine fear in his eyes, and the darkest part of Thor revels in it.

As if he’d let Loki hide himself away.

“No.” Thor says. “I will take you like this, so that I can look upon your face.”

Thor aligns himself, and Loki panics, scrabbling Thor’s shoulders to try and push him off.

 “No! No, Thor, wait, I...Ah!” 

Thor grunts and shoves his cock partway into his brother. Loki sobs, and the sound is far too broken to be faked. Beautiful.

 “Brother,” Thor pants into Loki’s shoulder. Loki is accursedly tight, but the oil is helping to helps to ease the way.  Thor holds very still for a moment to keep himself from coming.

“Pull out,” Loki rasps. “I can’t – you’re too big.”

“Just....wait.” Gods, he feels incredible. 

Loki weakly tries to push Thor off, but he’s no match for Thor’s weight and brute strength .“I can’t take you.”

“You can.” Thor says. “You will.”

“Fine,” Loki snarls, even as frustrated tears pool in the corners of his eyes.  “Fine, you great beast. Fuck me up the ass. Do it. I dare you.” At that, he swivels his hips down, taking the rest of Thor’s length inside him. He must be a glutton for punishment, because the action also makes him mewl in pain.

“Loki,” Thor gasps both at his words and at the sensation. He pulls out slightly, then sinks back in. Pleasure blossoms in front of his eyes. “Loki.”

“Come on, then,” Loki hisses, because he simply does not know when to admit defeat.  “Mighty Thor, Stallion of Asgard, let’s see if the rumors about you are true. Do what you will. I don’t care.”

Thor is never one to turn down a challenge. He positions Loki as he likes, and fucks.

Loki takes it. Stars above, he takes it. Thor marvels at how much deeper he can sink into him than he can into any maid. Loki cries out when Thor hilts himself, again and again. The very degeneracy of the act spurs Thor on, and he begins to move faster. Loki is opening up for him, letting Thor take his fill of his body. He’s fighting less now; either because he has given up or is too exhausted to continue trying. Thor has subdued him, tamed him, broken him in like a wild mare. His wayward brother, nailed down at last.

Thor tilts Loki’s hips up and repositions himself for better leverage. He thrusts in and Loki gasps, but this time his cry sounds somehow.....different. Higher-pitched; sweeter. Thor does it again and Loki’s hole clamps down on him, deliriously tight.

“Do this?”

Loki scowls and half-heartedly kicks him with the back of his heel. ”Just get on with it, you dog!”

“You do,” Thor says wonderingly. He rocks his hips and looks down, noting that indeed, Loki’s cock is stirring, half-hard. “You’re enjoying this.”

Thor knows he is a selfish lover. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s simply that when he’s between a pretty bedmate’s legs he tends to chase his own pleasure with single-minded focus. But now, as he looks down at Loki – his brother, Loki, who is taking pleasure from this vile, unnatural act – it becomes Thor’s priority to force his climax out of him, by whatever means necessary.

“Touch yourself.”

“I will not!”

“Stubborn,” Thor chastises. He sits back on his heels so that he’s kneeling over Loki. In this attitude, he can see where his flesh sinks into Loki’s, where their bodies meet, where Loki is so tautly stretched around him.

Thor takes his cock in hand and begins to stroke him in time with his own thrusts. The reaction is immediate: Loki arches off the bed and cries out feebly. The sound makes Thor’s rhythm stagger.

“That’s it,” Thor pants.  “Take your pleasure.”

Thor ruts Loki hard, pumping him back and forth like a rag doll, but every time he brushes close to climax, he slows, and Loki huffs impatiently.

“Just come already.”    

“Not until you do.” Thor counters. “I want to feel it.”

Loki must be desperate, because he does not tarry.

“Fine.” Loki bats Thor’s hand away and takes himself in his fists, stroking himself in tandem with Thor’s movements. “If that will finish you.” With Loki otherwise occupied, Thor concentrates entirely on driving him into the mattress with each powerful thrust. He snaps his hips and watches, transfixed, as Loki works himself ever closer towards release. Loki finally spills, shooting viscous seed across his belly with a stifled moan. But Thor isn’t watching his cock. Rather, he’s mesmerized by Loki’s face when he comes: head thrown back wantonly, eyes squeezed shut. He rolls his hips helplessly onto Thor’s prick and his hole contracts rhythmically with orgasm.

And Stars above, Thor feels it.

“There.” Loki says as he falls back onto the bed, exhausted. “Is that what you wanted?”

Thor knows some women can come again and again with little rest in between – if Loki is part female, should he not also be capable of such a thing?

That would be a discovery worth uncovering.

Thor holds very still, hilted in his brother, and waits for the urge to come to subside.  Then, after he’s sure he’s sufficiently calmed himself, he slowly starts to pump again.

Loki sobs when he realizes Thor isn’t done.   

“Finish, damn you.” he groans, but Loki is clearly drained and can’t muster any real bite behind the words. “Be done with it.”

If Loki’s cock is anything like his own, there is no sense rubbing it now. Instead, Thor sinks his hand lower, and slips his fingers back in Loki’s cunt.  He gasps at the sensation of feeling himself move through Loki’s inner walls.

“One more,” Thor says.

Loki squirms at his touch. “I can’t. It hurts.”

Thor curls his fingers, rubbing at Loki’s insides, and manages to coax a moan out of him. His cock does not stir, but his cunt responds eagerly, and a fresh sluice of wetness coats Thor’s fingers. Thor repeats the motion again, and again, pushing up hard on that spot. Loki tries to angle his hips away from the stimulation, but eventually gives up and allows Thor to take him apart.

“Ah,” Loki groans, oversensitive. He’s not resisting at all anymore, and clings helplessly to Thor’s shoulders like a lifeline. Thor curls himself over his brother, never ceasing his ministrations, and presses an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss to Loki’s lips. It speaks to Loki’s exhaustion that he doesn’t even attempt to bite him.

Loki screams when he comes the second time, his voice echoing off the stone walls, and Thor fucks him through it. His hole clenches harder than before and Thor vision goes white.

“Tell me you love me,” Thor rasps into Loki’s open mouth. He’s so close. “Please.”

Loki opens his eyes at last. There are tears clinging to his eyelashes, and his skin is dewy-pink with orgasm.

 “I love you,” he says, and Thor comes harder than he ever has in his life.




Thor wakes some time later with a throbbing headache and raw scratchmarks on his back, chest, and shoulders. It takes him awhile to figure out where he is, and when he does, the memories come flooding to the forefront of his mind.

Loki is lying next to him, awake but unmoving. He stares blankly at the dying embers in the hearth as if in a trance.

He’s surprised Loki hadn't slit his throat while he slept.

 “Loki, I-“ he winces, “I am deeply, deeply sorry.”

He expects Loki’s wrath, for Loki to curse his name to Hel, for Loki to hate him. He’d deserve it. Gods, he’d deserve it. But instead, Loki merely shrugs.

“No need,” Loki says airily, waving his hand. “You desired a struggle and I gave it to you. I satisfied you, as I said I would. That was the bargain. Your guilt is groundless.”

Thor’s mouth gapes. “Loki, I...... I brutalized you.”

“Mmm,” Loki hums, ambiguous.

Thor notices the redness around Loki’s eyes, his blotchy face. He’d been crying. Thor has never known Loki to cry, and it’s agony to know that he’d been the one to have caused him pain. Loki had always been so strong, so hardened. Thor wants to reach out to him, to hold him and comfort him, but he’s not so daft as to think Loki would seek his touch at this moment.

“You couldn’t possibly have known where my desires lay...” Thor stumbles, “My perversions....”

Loki shrugs again, looking away. It’s maddening. How could he be so indifferent?

“Well?” Thor asks tentatively.

“Well what?”

“Say something.” Thor pleads. “I need to know your mind.”

“I am well enough.”

He doesn't look it. He looks haggard, wrung out, exhausted, to say nothing of the darkening marks around his throat and upper arms. There are probably yet more bruises on his hips and thighs, but Thor dares not lift the blanket to check. Thor is appalled. If anyone had laid their hands on him in such a manner, he’d tear their heart out with his own hands and feed it to the dogs.

“Is this another trick?”

“No,” Loki sighs, weary. “No trick. I am tired of tricks.”

Thor sits up and considers Loki more closely. Loki flinches when Thor comes near and it makes him feel worse.

“I think you lie, brother, even now. You hate that I saw you vulnerable, so you attempt to cover it, and pretend this is all your own doing, when you and I both know the fault is entirely mine.....I.....I lost control. I did this to you.”

“Indeed,” Loki says. “And they say I am a monster.”

Thor grimaces. He deserves that. Loki should be with someone who makes love to him with the respect and kindness he deserves. Not – not pinned down and...raped.

“Your other lover, was he –“ Thor pauses, “Good to you?”

Loki’s lips tugging upwards in a grim, sardonic smile. “Ever the competitor, brother?”

“I just need to know that he did not treat I have.”

“Thor,” Loki sighs, “You think I would have allowed any man to look upon my deformity? My secret shame? That part of me that I have spent centuries hiding? No. No one has had me before this night. I am well and truly yours, just as you wished.”

Thor blinks. “What?”

 “I suppose I should thank you,” Loki says pensively, almost bitter. “You left me as good a maid as you found me.”

This information spins Thor’s mind.

 “But I thought – you said – “

“I neither confirmed, nor denied. And you, dear brother, did not think to simply ask.”

Although the memory is hazy, Thor realizes Loki is right. How could he have been so callous?

Loki turns to him and reaches to Thor’s face. Thor thinks he means to claw him, but instead he caresses Thor’s lips almost reverentially. To say that Thor is surprised would be a profound understatement.

“But it would have been you,” Loki says quietly. “If you wanted me.”

“Loki,” Thor’s heart clenches. “You know I do. I always have.”

“You love me,” Loki says.

Thor does not hesitate. “More than anything.”

Loki seems to consider this. He analyzes Thor’s face for any trace of deceit, and upon finding none, pulls Thor down into a sweet, gentle kiss. Thor opens gratefully to it with a sob of relief. Perhaps.....perhaps there is hope yet, between them. For things to be something like they once were.

When they break the kiss, Loki’s eyes are bright and wet.

“Then prove it. Keep to your oath, brother, and it shall be well between us.”

Thor has no intention of doing anything but.




Loki lays very still until the tower door is firmly locked behind his brother. He waits a few long minutes until he’s sure he’s well and truly alone. Then, his face breaks out into a feral grin.

He’d done it.

And it had gone far better than he ever hoped.

His greatest trick, accomplished even without the use of his magic!

Thor is a soft, warm-hearted fool. He’ll never go back on his word now; no, not with what he has done. Day and night, the guilt will eat away at him, soften him to Loki’s whims. He’ll do anything to earn Loki’s forgiveness. In this, Thor will be Loki’s slave.

Loki can almost taste his freedom.

Muffling his face in the pillow, Loki laughs.