There is a smack as the crystal stopper connects with Loki’s palm. His long fingers close over its multi-faceted surface, holding it tightly. His eyebrows twitch playfully upward.
“Only a hug, brother?”
Loki stares back, gives the stopper a gentle toss. It sparkles briefly in the air before he catches it again. “There isn’t anything else you’d like to give me? Nothing you’d like to say? Because”—he spreads his arms and smiles invitingly, both hands suddenly empty—“here I am.”
Thor swallows down any words that might have been trying to make their way out of his throat. He dare not speak now; heaven knows what might come out of his mouth. So he settles for shaking his head dumbly and lowering his gaze. Admitting his defeat.
A shadow of disappointment darkens Loki’s face. “Well then. As there’s nothing more to be said, I suppose I’ll be leaving now. Good evening, brother. Or whatever hour it is out here.”
He turns to go, and it’s a sight Thor finds utterly unbearable: Loki leaving him again, walking away from his damnable hesitance, his indecision, his inability to drag out the shadowy thing that has been smoldering between them these many years and finally give it a name.
He takes a step forward and breaks his silence. “Loki.”
In the doorway, Loki turns.
“I have nothing to give you,” he admits, “but there is something I want from you.”
A ray of hope glimmers in Loki’s frosty eyes. “And what do I have that you want, brother?”
Thor holds out his hand. “The stopper.”
“The glass stopper I threw at… the thing that goes in the top of the—”
“I know what a stopper is, Thor.”
“Can I have it back, then?”
The hope in Loki’s eyes vanishes, and something much less subtle replaces it. “No.”
“What? Why not?”
“You threw it at me. Seems fair enough to assume you didn’t want it.”
“Well, I do.”
“That’s too bad, because I don’t feel like giving it to you anymore. I mean,” says Loki conversationally, “I was going to, I’d planned on it actually—the whole reason why I came here in person—but then I changed my mind. Yes. Yes, I think you’re just going to have to come over here and take it from me, brother.”
For a moment Thor’s expression wavers, and suddenly he’s not sure if they’re talking about the stopper or something quite different. “I’m, I really don’t want to do that, Loki,” he stammers.
“Why not?” Loki begins to saunter toward him. “That’s how you’ve gotten everything else you’ve ever wanted. By force. You could take this from me easily.” He draws out the last word, tilting his chin upward and baring his teeth.
Thor is becoming distinctly uncomfortable; that discomfort only increases when Loki comes within arm’s reach of him. “I don’t want it to be that way with y—with this.”
“Why not?” Loki repeats. “It’s only a worthless ornament. Nothing special.”
“Then it shouldn’t be too difficult for you to return, should it?”
Loki smiles, not a nice smile, but one full of venom and ice. “It doesn’t even belong to you. It has never belonged to you, so why do you suddenly want it back?”
“Because it should have been mine a long time ago!” Thor snarls. “I should have made it mine. But I was too…”
Thor swallows thickly and takes a step backward, realizing his error, that he’s allowed himself to be led into dangerous territory. Loki takes a corresponding step forward, refusing to let him escape. A second later Thor’s boot heel thuds into the wall and he goes still, knowing he’s trapped. Loki halts, glares at him—earnestly, hungrily—and waits.
“You know,” says Thor finally, his voice as raw as an open wound, “you were wrong about one thing, Loki. It’s not a worthless ornament. It’s well-crafted and useful. It has value. And it’s quite beautiful, too. I just never…”
“Opened your eyes and looked at it?” Loki barks. “Never realized how much you wanted it until you didn’t have it anymore?”
“Yes, Loki. That’s exactly what I mean.”
It should have been a victory, hearing such a humble admission from so proud a hero, but there is no sign of triumph on Loki’s face. Only a growing wetness in his eyes.
“Then why didn’t you say so before?” he says sharply. “Why didn’t you… why only now, after all this time? Why?”
“Because I was a fool, Loki. A blind and bumbling fool.” Thor reaches up and carefully touches the patch over his missing eye. “However, I think I see better now with one eye than I did with two. The world has, my world, it’s become very narrow lately. But at the same time it’s much easier to focus on things that are in front of me. Things that are most important to me. Things that, in my foolishness, I’ve neglected to fully appreciate.”
Loki blinks, stunned by the depth of Thor’s words. And Thor, unable to stop himself, reaches out and touches Loki’s smooth cheek with his rough, blunt fingers.
“I’m not going to take it from you, Loki,” he says in a low, intimate rumble. “This is something that must be given, willingly. I want you to want to give it to me.”
The tendons in Loki’s jaw flex as he clenches his teeth. The moisture in his eyes wells to the point of overflowing; a single blink will send tears skidding down both cheeks.
Emboldened by the lack of a retort, Thor dares to lean closer. “I’ve been reaching out to you many years now. I’ve been trying to bring you back, but you refused to come to me.”
“You reached out needlessly,” Loki mutters. “I was already gone. You pushed me away.”
“But you came back,” says Thor, smiling. “Back from the dark and the nothing, and now you’re here again, in the flesh.” He slips his hand beneath the warm curtain of Loki’s long hair and cradles his neck. “You’re alive and I’m so thankful, and I’m… so terribly sorry for every time I’ve made you feel lesser than me. You are not, and you no longer have to prove it. I see it now and I believe it, what’s been there all this time. My strong, clever, handsome brother.”
“Your false, vile, wicked brother,” says Loki, and the tears finally spill from his eyes.
“But wicked no more.” Thor moves even closer, cupping Loki’s face with both hands. “Come to me this time, Loki. Take my hand. I’ll not drag you into my arms—walk into them. They’re open for you.”
For a moment Loki stands before Thor, blinking away his tears and struggling with some internal foe. At last he sniffs and sighs, makes a helpless expression, and puts his arms around Thor’s broad shoulders. Leather creaks between their bodies as Thor folds his arms around him.
“Loki,” he says happily, tightening his hold and burying his face against Loki’s neck. “Loki.”
Loki smiles thinly, reaches up to brush the shorn remains of Thor’s golden hair. He pets it carefully and explores the sharp edges of cuts made by the careless blades. He traces the curve of Thor’s ear, following the large tendon in his neck downward, then spreads his fingers and strokes his wiry beard.
Thor’s eyelid flutters. “That feels exquisite,” he murmurs, then abruptly frowns. “You’re not casting an enchantment, are you?”
“No,” says Loki. His hands massage Thor’s scalp, ten nails and fingertips producing waves of indescribable pleasure with every rake. “No more trickery. Just me, I promise.”
He is cut off by Loki’s lips smashing into his, and finds himself pressed bodily against the wall. He opens his mouth and leans forward, accepting what Loki gives him. Heat and tongue, a faint taste of mint, the nip of teeth. Warm, moist breath. Thin but soft lips pursing and sucking at his own. Thor brazenly grasps Loki’s buttocks and pulls him close, wanting to feel his desire—and wanting Loki to feel his.
Loki breaks the kiss with a surprised huff. “Oh—oh my.”
“Do you feel that?” Thor purrs, rubbing himself against Loki’s hip. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?”
Loki grasps Thor’s wrist and guides it between their bodies, pressing it to the growing bulge between his own legs. “I’m afraid it’s catching,” he says smugly. “What should we do, brother?”
Thor smiles and squeezes gently, relishing the hiss Loki releases. “You’re asking me? You’re the smart one, Loki. You always were. I defer to your superior intellect.”
Loki chuckles. “Flattery is cheap, Thor, and it doesn’t suit you. That is my purview. However”—he grinds himself into Thor’s palm—“I find your humility most endearing. Even if it is fueled by lust.”
Thor smiles indulgently. Then he ducks down and claps his arms around Loki’s thighs, hoisting him completely off the floor and onto his shoulders. Loki sputters and squawks as Thor bears him from the parlor like a fresh kill.
“Put me down!” He pounds his fist into his brother’s meaty bicep. “This is humiliating!”
“Not for me,” Thor beams.
“Ouch, you’re pinching me! I’m serious, Thor, this is horribly uncomfortable and most undignified!”
“Settle down, we’re almost there.”
In a few moments Loki thumps down onto a huge, surprisingly supportive mattress; apparently the Grandmaster’s bed—like his bedchamber—was built with the modest-sized orgy in mind. Thor yanks his boots off and climbs aboard, sidling toward Loki on his knees. Loki props himself up and scoots hastily, deliberately backward.
“Wait, wait a minute,” he says, holding up his hand. “You should consider removing some of that armor before we go any further. Like perhaps all of it.”
“I was planning to.” Thor shrugs and leers, “At some point.”
“Some point? Listen, I’m quite certain I bruised my sternum on one of your pauldrons, so it all comes off. Every last bit of it. Now.”
“Alright, alright, as you command,” Thor grumbles, but the grin remains on his face. “Just remember, I was the one who tried to make sex safe.”
“You’re going to make sex impossible if you don’t shut up.”
Thor chortles richly and begins to remove his armor and underclothes. When Loki sees that he’s actually compliant, he hastily starts shucking off his own garments. In a matter of seconds there’s a mound of capes, leather pants, and various other accoutrements on the floor, and their naked bodies come together with a whisper and a rustle of sheets.
Thor stretches out against Loki’s side, his huge upper arm pillowing Loki’s head. He is pulled down for a kiss by a gentle hand on the back of his neck and they melt into each other’s mouths, taking their time, rekindling the fires of their appetites. Thor strokes the warm flesh of Loki’s flank and caresses his lean stomach.
“Your skin is so smooth,” he murmurs.
“Hm, or maybe your skin is just so much rougher,” says Loki, wrapping his nimble fingers around Thor’s thumb and guiding it to his lips.
Thor gawks as Loki takes it into his mouth and begins sucking it. The sensation of his tongue and its sleek, wet heat sends a bolt of arousal rippling through Thor’s core, terminating at his fully erect cock. It jumps excitedly where it lies against Loki’s thigh. He lets out a groan that’s half delight and half agony.
“Mmh.” Loki pulls the thumb out of his mouth with a pop. “I was right,” he says flatly. “Your skin is rough. Give me your tongue again, I prefer that.”
Thor smiles and leans down, touching his lips to Loki’s familiar smirk. Loki presses upward, opening wide and taking a long, deep drink. Thor braces himself against the mattress and loses himself in Loki’s affection, his heart thudding in his chest like war drums.
Loki makes pleased little moans and pulls Thor on top of him, bending his knees, allowing his brother’s body to settle between them. His hands go to work on Thor’s broad, powerful back, kneading the thick straps of muscles there and working their way down, down, where he clutches the cheeks of Thor’s ass and gives them a playful squeeze.
Thor squeaks and jerks sharply in surprise, then laughs at his own ticklishness. Beneath him Loki bites his lip, his dark hair fanned out around his head and his eyes bright with mischief. Their juvenile snickering subsides as their gazes meet, one eye to two; yet their smiles remain, softening to something more sober and meaningful.
“I’ve loved you, Loki,” Thor murmurs fondly. “I still do. And nothing in this world, not even death, is capable of striking that love from my heart.” He takes Loki’s hand and lays it upon his breast, allowing him to feel the strength and surety of that promise beat against his palm.
Loki stares up at him, his face suddenly as open and vulnerable as an innocent child’s. It is a face few people have seen, one so rare as to be considered practically fictional, reserved only for close family members or lovers. (Or in this perverse case, both.)
Thor recognizes it immediately, and his demeanor changes to one of sad reverence. “Has no one spoken such words to you before, Loki?”
Loki gently shakes his head. “I’ve given no one a reason to speak them.”
“That is regrettable,” Thor admits softly, “though I am happy to be the first.”
He sits up suddenly and pulls Loki into his lap. Loki straddles his hard, muscular thighs and rests his arms on Thor’s shoulders, wetting his lips in anticipation. Thor lays one hand on Loki’s waist while the other moves down to fondle him. Soon Loki is breathing in time with the strokes, rocking himself on Thor’s lap, rubbing the warm flesh of his cods against Thor’s. His face grows pink from the stimulation and his cock begins to bead and dribble. His gaze drifts down to Thor’s impressive organ and he lets his imagination run freely, causing him to become even more disheveled. Finally, though, he reaches the limits of his patience.
“Are you going to put that in me or do I have to beg you?”
“I was waiting for you to say something.” Thor grins and drops a kiss on Loki’s collarbone. “And I wanted to make sure it was what you wanted.”
“Of course it’s what I want.” Loki sneers wickedly, his tone deepening and becoming warm honey in Thor’s ears: “I want to sit on your cock, dear brother. I want you to make me feel good, and I want to hear you scream my name as you spill yourself in me.” His skilled lips leave a smattering of kisses against Thor’s stunned mouth. “I’m going to unravel you. I’m going to make you come like a beast. You’re going to split me open and fill me with your love, and no one else will ever be able to satisfy you again. You’re going to claim me, and I will make you mine. That is what I want, brother. Can you give it to me?”
Thor, having lost his faculty of speech, manages a nod.
“Excellent. Now, I’m sure those fingers of yours can be put to a better use…”
No further bidding is needed; Thor’s hand moves from Loki’s erection and gently cups his balls, palming them with care. Loki’s eyelids droop and he sighs in approval. He reaches down and swipes his thumb over the tip of Thor’s cock, playing with the slit, swirling and spreading slick all over the sensitive head. Thor grunts happily and resumes his quest, feeling his way into Loki’s warm, humid cleft. He takes a moment to press his finger into the soft flesh just behind his scrotum, and Loki makes a deep, raspy sound in his throat, his cock bobbing in response.
“You like that?” Thor asks.
“Yes—ah, please don’t stop, keep going. Yes…”
Thor smiles and delves deeper into Loki’s crevice, finding encouragement in the sighs and hums that are produced. But then his fingers encounter something familiar yet unexpected: soft folds, slippery skin. And beyond that, a hot, spongy little hole, tight and oozing with arousal.
Thor smiles and wiggles his middle finger against the opening, dipping it just slightly inside. “You don’t have to change your body to please me, Loki. I want you as you are.”
“I’ve changed nothing,” says Loki quietly. “What you feel is mine.”
Thor’s face goes blank for a second, then his brows arch in surprise. “You mean you were born with…?”
Loki nods, his eyes skittering to the side. If Thor didn’t know any better he’d say Loki is ashamed—and that has to be impossible because Loki has no shame. Of that Thor is almost certain; regardless, he moves quickly to reassure him.
“It’s not a problem. I didn’t know you had… that you were like this.” He rubs gentle, pacifying stripes on Loki’s thigh. “Is this common amongst the Jötnar?”
“I don’t know,” says Loki quietly. “So little is written of them, least of all their biology. My searching has been fruitless thus far.”
Thor nods, still trying to absorb this astonishing news. “Does it bleed?”
Loki hesitates, then: “Yes.”
“So it is possible for you to—”
Something primal finds its way into Thor’s remaining eye, casting a dark veil over its vivid blue. “So if I were to come into you here”—he pushes his finger into Loki’s smooth, cushy sheath, evoking a tremulous breath—“it would make a child?”
“Nh, not now.” Loki adjusts the angle of his hips, making himself comfortable on Thor’s digit. “My cycles are regular and the time between them long. My season is not for a while.”
“But it is possible?”
“I suppose. I’ve no idea, really; I could be barren. I’ve never been… in that way before.”
“But it’s safe if we were to, er—now?”
When Thor looks again at Loki, there is wonder in his eye. “You are both sower and bearer. What an extraordinary trait.”
The nervous tic on Loki’s face vanishes at Thor’s compliment, and he looks almost sick with relief. “You truly think that?”
“Of course.” Thor draws an arm about Loki’s waist and presses a bristly kiss to his breast. “You have always been a source of amazement to me, Loki. Now more than ever.”
“I thought you”—Loki’s voice cracks, he tries again—“I thought you would laugh at me. Mock me. That’s why I never told you.”
“Oh, Loki. I am not the cruel, insensitive brat I once was,” says Thor, smiling up at him. “I have grown and matured in the years we’ve been apart.”
“So I see.” Loki’s hips gyrate, forcing Thor’s finger deeper inside him. “And so I feel.”
Thor grins and pulls his hand away. Loki groans in disappointment but stops short when Thor puts the finger in his mouth and sucks off the juices that glisten there. Loki stares in open-mouthed shock as Thor cleans the rest of it from his knuckles.
“As good as it tastes,” he says between licks, “I’m sure it’s better when taken straight from the source.”
Loki’s eyes gleam with a ravening darkness. “You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”
A beat passes. Then they’re both scrambling like fiends, bodies shifting position rapidly, arms and legs finding their places in this most ancient of dances.
Soon Loki is lying on his back, knees bent and thighs propped on Thor’s shoulders, groaning as his brother enthusiastically devours him. Thor buries his face into Loki’s cunt, stabbing and twisting his tongue inside him, sucking his clitoris, lapping up the fleshy, tangy nectar seeping from his body. And when it seems he’s licked Loki dry and all he tastes is his own saliva, he lifts his head and thrusts fingers into him—only two, he is yet quite tight—trying to lure more out of him. His beard is damp, his lips are glossy with Loki’s slick, and his cock is an angry red cudgel throbbing between his legs, harder than it’s ever been before. A glut of clear fluid drools from its purplish head, leaving damp spots wherever it touches the sheets.
Loki heaves for breath, his features bent into an expression almost resembling pain. He gropes vainly at Thor’s head, silently cursing the loss of his long locks, and moans obscenely at the ceiling.
Thor comes up for air and tilts his head to one side, cracking his neck with a grimace. “Need to change the angle,” he mutters. “Hold on.”
Loki yelps as he’s bent nearly in half, forcing most of his weight to rest on his upper back. Thor grips Loki’s thighs and bends his head down, nosing his way back to that sweet well between his legs.
Loki’s eyes roll back in ecstasy; something about the new angle or the blood being forced into his head—perhaps even the odd sensation of his bottom half being held up in midair—increases his pleasure sevenfold. He squeezes his thighs around Thor’s prickly cheeks and moans his name. His cock drools against his belly, the drops running toward his navel.
Thor pauses for breath and plunges three fingers inside Loki, pumping and twisting, ramming them in as far as they’ll go. He curls them as he drags them out, straightens them as he dives in, searching for the magical little spot he knows must be there.
“Come for me, Loki,” he rumbles, his lips shining as he adds a fourth finger. “Come for your big brother.”
Loki’s mouth drops open and his features freeze in a look of astonishment. “Oh Valhalla I—” A scream steals the rest of his sentence. His hips jerk and he bucks, cries, drills himself onto Thor’s fingers, hissing and moaning and clenching his fists in the sheets.
But even in the throes of ecstasy, he still has enough sense to refrain from choking Thor to death with his legs.
A minute later he is a spent, boneless deadweight, and Thor carefully lets him down onto the mattress, leans over him with a concerned look. “Did you climax?”
Still breathing heavily through his mouth, Loki claps a hand over his eyes. “That is the stupidest question you have ever asked me. Of course I climaxed.”
“But you’re still…” Thor pokes Loki’s erection, rock hard and weeping copiously. Loki jolts, apparently more sensitive than ever. “You didn’t spill your seed.”
Loki sighs and holds up two fingers, wiggles them. “Two separate systems, two separate climaxes. The one given the most attention wins.” The corner of his mouth flickers with amusement. “Unless stimulated together. Then it’s a double orgasm and I really lose it.”
Thor’s face nearly slides off. “What.”
“It’s devastating. Sometimes it takes days for my powers to return.”
“It’s true. I’ve done it a few times before.”
“That is not fair.”
Loki snickers like the unrepentant hedonist he is.
“I’m serious,” Thor gripes, “that’s bollocks. How dare you get the best of both worlds—”
“I get the worst of both worlds too, you know.”
“—yes, but the ability to have a double orgasm would make it completely worth it. Ugh.” Thor groans and flops onto his back. “I’m so jealous and disappointed. Mostly jealous. And disappointed.”
Loki rolls his eyes and swings his leg over Thor’s body, sitting astride him. He places his hands on the powerful swell of Thor’s pectorals and looks down at him sadly. “Right. What a pity, blessed with this incredible body and good looks and that massive weapon of a cock. Poor, poor you.”
“Yes, I know,” Thor sniffs, “I fear nothing shall bring me out of this depression. I’m already languishing. Farewell, brother—” He blocks a smack from Loki’s hand and hisses with laughter.
“You are so full of shit,” Loki declares, trying not to smile. “You’re almost as bad as me.”
“You’re not that bad.”
“I’m not that good, either.”
“You let me be the judge of that,” says Thor, and nudges his pelvis upward a couple times, causing his erection to thump against Loki’s buttocks.
“Are you trying to be subtle?” Loki asks. “Because you’re failing at it miserably.”
Thor shrugs, folds his hands beneath his head. “Seems more polite than simply slamming in and pounding away. I’m trying not to be a complete pig here.”
Loki’s tongue flicks out hungrily.
Thor’s eyebrows leap up. “Wait, you wanted it that way?”
“Not quite,” he says, rising to his knees and grabbing the base of Thor’s cock. His thumb and middle finger don’t even touch. “But almost.”
He lowers himself, the head pressing hard against his hole until it finally pops in. He gasps and pauses, and Thor reaches out to steady him.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Loki huffs. “It’s just. You’re bigger than any I’ve…” He closes his eyes, bites his lip, and rises a little before sinking back down.
“Oh gods,” Thor breathes, watching himself disappear into his brother’s body, inch by sultry inch.
Loki repeats the motion, lifting himself almost off of Thor and then sliding back onto him, going a little farther each time. The pain is dull and vague, the pleasure bright and addictive, and Loki chases the latter in spite of the former, knowing a point will come when only one exists. Already he can feel his body responding, relaxing, accepting this rather large guest. His sheath, still slippery from his earlier climax, begins to pour afresh. His skin prickles and his hair stands on end; his nipples harden and the tip of his cock tingles; but better by far than all these exquisite sensations is the sight of his brother’s face staring up at him, helpless and devoted and utterly ruined.
“You’re mine now,” Loki whispers, and plants himself squarely onto Thor’s hips. He is completely, absolutely filled. He whines sharply and goes still, breathing through his mouth, waiting for his body to adjust.
“Loki,” Thor whispers gently, “don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine. I just. Give me a moment.”
Thor grabs a couple nearby pillows and stuffs them behind his back, propping himself up a little more. He can better reach Loki this way, and that’s precisely what he does: reaches out and takes him in his hand, working him slowly and smoothly.
Loki sighs and leans his head back. Thor can actually feel him relaxing; the muscles turning his sheath into an anxious vise begin to loosen to a comfortable—but still snug—embrace.
“Better?” he asks, and Loki nods. “Why don’t you try moving around now. Just a little.”
Loki takes a breath and starts to sway. His brow smooths out as the pleasure returns to him. Thor feels it too, and his cock throbs in relief.
“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly as he strokes Loki with one hand while the other caresses the tension from his quivering hip. “Slowly… Is there anything I can do to make this better?”
Loki opens his eyes. A leather patch and one bright blue eye stare back at him, and that’s when he feels it—the pure, sublime distillation of every good and beautiful thing he’s ever experienced, blooming deep in his chest and filling it with overwhelming contentment. He realizes what it is only after his tongue speaks the words: “I love you, too.”
Thor smiles and leans up, tucking a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear and kissing him chastely. “That makes me happy.”
Loki holds Thor’s face in his hands and begins to roll his hips. “I love you and I’m going to make you feel incredible.”
“You already have.”
“You don’t know what incredible is until you’ve had me, brother.” To prove his point, he lifts himself almost completely off before dropping himself back down with a wet, fleshy shhlick, burying Thor’s member inside him, grinding himself on the coarse golden hair at its base. Then he rises up and does it again.
Thor gives a guttering moan as he feels Loki’s heat recede and cool empty air take its place; then it returns, a warm, tight-fitting sleeve gliding down over the head of his cock, hugging all his ridges and veins and curves. Every transition from one phase to the other is smoothed by Loki’s heady, helpful essence. It seeps from him like a spring, easing the burden of accepting such a large gift.
“Ah, Loki…” Thor’s head lolls as Loki continues to ride him. It might be his imagination—it has to be, the discomfort of such a displacement would surely be unbearable—but he thinks he can see the flat plane of Loki’s lower belly bulge with each complete penetration. Real or not, the thought of actually being able to see himself move inside his brother fills Thor with indescribable, unadulterated lust.
Loki’s thighs give a weary tremble and he whimpers. Thor abandons his current task and moves to help him, grasping his hips in both hands and lifting him up, holding him at the halfway point. Then he thrusts his hips up and into Loki, and the motion causes them both to bounce on the mattress.
“Oh, oh my—” Loki starts, knowing what’s coming—and who will be coming with it.
“Yes?” Thor asks one last time, and Loki nods furiously. “Take over, then. I have this.”
Loki grasps himself and begins pumping rapidly, and a second later Thor penetrates him again, burying himself in to the hilt before withdrawing. Again and again, faster and faster. Loki moans loudly and uncontrollably, the pitch of his voice rising each time he’s entered, each time his brother’s cock drives into him and pounds another explosive thrill into his core. His sheath is alive with sensation, a greedy, gratifying hole between his legs, and all it wants is Thor.
Loki bows his head, his dark hair falling loosely around his face. His movements become shorter and faster, sharper, more urgent.
“I’m close,” he sobs. “So close. Oh, Thor…”
“I’m here, Loki.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“When I come, don’t hold back. Take me fast and hard, otherwise I—” His cock spurts and suddenly his words become a howl: “Oh Thor oh gods now yes now—”
Thor sets his jaw, grips Loki firmly in his arms, and slams viciously into him. Loki shakes and squeezes around him, his body excruciatingly, wonderfully tight, thrumming and fluttering as he climaxes. Semen pours over his knuckles and splatters onto Thor’s belly, rill after rill, an embarrassingly profuse amount. Thor continues to hammer into him, addicted to the feeling of the clenching, spasming channel, of parting that flesh with his own cock and having it cling to him as he withdraws, having it suck at him and try to hold him inside.
“I felt it,” Loki utters suddenly. “You’re about to come, I feel—”
Thor bellows at the top of his lungs, and Loki screams—half in terror, half in euphoria as his brother holds him at the waist and pumps wave after wave into him, ultimately throwing him into another savage climax. A stream of the ugliest, most vulgar words in the Asgardian language leaves Loki’s mouth. He surges forward, grinds himself even harder onto Thor’s shaft until pain lances through his belly, forcing him to stop.
He goes still, panting raggedly, shaking from overexertion. “Fuck me, I’m spent.”
Thor sprawls against the pillows, his chest gleaming with sweat, looking as if he’s just had most of his brains beaten out. “Hhuuunh,” he groans, his cock giving one last, dying spurt inside Loki.
They remain as they are for several minutes, climbing down from the peaks of delirium and waiting for their hearts to resume a normal pace. Finally Loki straightens his back and combs his hair out of his eyes.
“That was phenomenal,” he admits.
“It was glorious,” Thor agrees. “Round Two in twenty minutes?”
“Wha—are you mad?” he exclaims while Thor giggles. “I am spent, Thor. Completely. I wouldn’t be surprised if my powers don’t return for a week.” He scrubs his face tiredly.
“So you really meant that? You really do lose your powers?”
“Yes. All of the good ones, at least. I always have my combat skills, but there is no sorcery to enhance them. It’s almost like being one of those pathetic Midgardians.”
Thor grins, gives Loki’s thighs a devilish squeeze. “So I could take advantage of you in your helpless state and—” This time he does nothing to block the rain of slaps and blows that falls on his upper body. He accepts it with good humor.
“You’re a pig,” says Loki after he feels he’s punished his brother enough. “And a lout and a boor, and I love you.” He leans forward and kisses Thor’s cheek. “And I look forward to doing this again someday.”
“Someday? You make it sound like centuries from now.”
“You know what I mean.” He taps Thor’s chest with his finger. “Besides, there are more important things we need to concern ourselves with now.”
“I know.” Thor sighs blissfully. “I really enjoyed this, though.”
Loki smiles his charmer’s smile. “So did I.” It disappears, however, when Thor tries to slip out from under him. “Don’t! Wait, wait.” He plants his hands on Thor’s abdomen. “Don’t move. Don’t pull out yet, I’m…”
Loki grimaces. “Swollen. Can’t you feel how tight everything is?”
Thor mulls it over a moment. “Now that you mention it, yes. How long does it last?”
“A few minutes. Then we can…” He makes a rolling motion with his hand. “You know. Disengage.”
“You’re not going to be sore, are you?” Thor asks, and Loki is once again touched by his concern.
“Of course, but I’ll be fine by tomorrow. I’m resilient.”
“Don’t forget handsome.”
They dissolve into self-deprecating chuckles, then Thor’s eye widens. “Ooh. Oh yes, I like that. Laugh some more, Loki. I can feel it from inside you.”
“You are so easily entertained.”
“Less work for you, then.” Thor tries to wink, but with just one eye it ends up looking like a blink. He seems to realize this and his jolliness ebbs.
But Loki, ever observant, leans forward again and gives him a reassuring kiss, slipping his tongue between his lips and caressing his face, paying special attention to the side that has been so damaged. Thor runs his fingers through Loki’s hair and kisses him back. Loki tastes himself in his brother’s mouth, smells himself in his beard, and knows this is what he’s wanted for many, many years.
When they finally part, Loki takes a breath and slowly, carefully rises to his knees. Thor’s cock flops out of him, as flaccid as a dead snake. He stretches out on his side and props himself up on an elbow, Thor staring at him incredulously the entire time.
“You’re so clean,” he blurts. “How? You should be dripping. I mean you should be absolutely drenched. Did you—?”
“I have no powers, Thor. I couldn’t conjure away the mess.”
“Then where is it?”
Thor is appropriately thunderstruck. “Wh-? All of it?”
Loki nods, gives his belly a pat. “I think that’s why I’m so tight afterwards. I keep everything that’s given to me.”
Thor’s eyebrow gives an interested twitch. “I find that curiously arousing.”
Loki’s eyes fall half-closed. “Because you’re a pig with an oversized prick—and, like most pigs with oversized pricks, you won’t be satisfied until every womb in your vicinity is bloated with your offspring.”
“Sounds fairly accurate. Ow.” His hand is slapped away as he tries to cop a feel; he pouts. “Don’t hate me, Loki, pity me. Pity your poor, mindless, piggish brother—”
“Will you please cease?”
Thor snorts, then grunts, his hand pouncing across the sheets toward Loki’s unguarded belly. “Rork rork. Rork rork ronk.”
“Stop it, Thor.”
He grins. “Rork ronk.”
“If you dare…”
“Rork rork hu-reeeeee-!”
Squealing like a boar, Thor rolls into Loki and begins tickling him mercilessly. Loki shrieks and starts beating his brother about the head—or anywhere his fists can reach. But being powerless and still weakened from his earlier activities, there is very little he can do to save himself. Pillows and sheets scatter in all directions. Loki screams curses and murderous threats, but their impact is ruined by his convulsive laughter. Thor attacks every place he remembers Loki to be ticklish: his armpits, his ribs, the backs of his knees, that squishy, meaty zone where buttock meets thigh. Loki manages to knock him in the nose quite solidly for daring to venture there, and Thor supposes he deserves it. He finally yields after a few moments, not wishing to further provoke Loki’s wrath.
“I hate it when you do that,” Loki snaps and brushes his tousled hair back into place. “I always have.”
“Sorry. I like the sound of your laughter. It’s a beautiful thing.”
“There are other ways of making me laugh, idiot. Just be yourself; I’ll laugh at that for the rest of my life.”
Thor scoffs, snickers.
Loki feels for his hand and clasps it tightly, threading his skillful, slender fingers with Thor’s thick, tough ones. “And you had better be around for that.”
“What, the rest of your life?”
“I would,” he sighs, “if it weren’t for one thing.”
Loki sits up in alarm. “What? What thing? What is it?”
A cocky grin spreads slowly across Thor’s lips. “The stopper. Can I have it back now?”
There’s a pause. Then a mighty whack. And then Thor is all alone in the Grandmaster’s gaudy bedroom, his head buried by a presently-thrown pillow.
“Yeah,” he admits in a muffled voice, “I definitely deserved that.”