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The escape pod hisses as it finally touches down just outside the limits of the Asgardian settlement. The planet is uninhabited except for the few hundred Aesir whose houses cluster together on the slopes of a low hill. Deep forest covers most of the land, and swift cold rivers flow nearby. It isn’t Asgard, but it is something more real, wild and new, and wholly earned.

Loki steps down onto the dark earth, sighing as cold air hits his face. His hair hangs long over his shoulders, and his tunic is loose around his shoulders. He’s lost weight these past few years. His trousers are looser than he would like as well, stuffed into boots that he charmed off of a trader two years ago, somewhere out near Hala.

Dead leaves crunch under his feet as Loki starts to make his way towards the town. The palisade around the settlement is high and well built. Just a few years ago, Loki would have had to walk inside in his own skin, trusting to his people not to hinder his passage. Now, though, his magical reserves have built up enough that he leaps into the air and finds his wings as a magpie.

He lets warmer currents of air carry him up high enough that he can see the whole of the settlement laid out beneath him. Houses cluster together in groups of twos and threes, and a market square is flanked by what looks to be an alehouse, two butcher shops, and a few other assorted stores. There are other various shops scattered throughout the city, and from this vantage point, he notices a few great machines in the process of being built.

At the very top of the hill, there is one house much larger than the rest. Its wood framing is as simple as that of the rest of the settlement, but the columns that flank the front door are gilded, and the doors themselves are great carven things, guarded by a few men wearing the armor of the Einherjar.

Loki flies down towards the courtyard in the center of the great house on the hill. Inside it, a few men practice with lances and swords. While they seem to be training hard, they do not hold their weapons with the grace of those who have spent their lives as warriors. They have come to this life late, and without calling, but they train with duty all the same. Loki perches on the gable above one of the doors onto the courtyard and watches them for a while, making note of their weaknesses.


When he tires of watching New Asgard’s soldiers train, he flutters down under the eaves. There, out of sight of the warriors in the yard, hidden behind a rack of spears, he takes his own shape again. Loki veils himself quickly though, winking out of sight before even the barest hint of his shadow can fall on the beaten ground.

He walks on quiet feet into the house. It’s wide and airy, the roof held up with pillars made out of stout tree trunks. The walls are covered in planed wood, smoothed out flat and soft to the touch. Loki trails his fingers along the wall as he walks, careful not to disturb the furs and skins that hand across doorways and finely paned windows.

At first, he walks almost without purpose. Then he spots a few people he recognizes, servants who had worked in Odin’s palace on Asgard even when Loki was himself young. His feet speed up without Loki having to tell them to, and he finds himself peering into the cracks around every doorway. There are people in many of them, but it is not until Loki has turned the corner and started walking down the long hallway that marks what is almost a new wing of the great house that he finds his brother.


Loki slips inside what must be serving as the great house’s library. There are a few bookcases against the walls, leather covered volumes filling up about half of them. The rest are stuffed with papers. A heavy desk is huddled in one corner, its thick legs carved into the feet of some great cat.

When Loki first glanced through the doorway, he’d seen only Thor’s bright, golden hair. Now that he’s inside, he can see more. Thor is hunched over the desk, his back to Loki. Most of his body is hidden by his chair, but Loki can see enough through the slats.

Thor has left his house cloak hanging over one of the bookcases, and is in nothing more than his tunic. Loki bites back a gasp when he sees how it stretches over Thor’s shoulders. Somehow, Thor is even larger than he remembered, filling up the chair. Even his neck seems wider than it is in Loki’s mind.

Thor’s hair is in a thick braid down his back, and his skin shows golden and tanned where Loki can see it in the gap between the neck of Thor’s tunic and the cord the binds the top of Thor’s braid. He steps closer, trying to get a better look at Thor. From here, he can see that he wasn’t imaging how Thor’s tunic is a little too small, and seems to hug his shoulders more tightly than should be considered proper.

Loki starts as Thor straightens up and then slumps back into the chair. He’s no longer bent over his work on the desk, and his huge sigh draws Loki’s attention away from his shoulders and down to what he can see of Thor’s sides between the slats in the chair. Loki bites his lip.

The top of the chair is pressed tight to Thor’s upper back, and his tunic billows there rough the spot just below the top slat. Loki lets his eyes travel down Thor’s back. There’s a definite curve to it, and then Loki has to bite back another small gasp as he finally gets to Thor’s hips.

Even with the way Thor slumps in the chair, his ass is pressed against the back of it. It’s fuller than Loki remembers, seeming thick and wide. The chair is just a little too small for Thor, and his thighs spill over either side of it, just as his ass presses against the back. Loki shifts from foot to foot, wondering if he can get closer without Thor noticing.

It is strange, seeing his brother after all this time, and seeing him like this, alone, working on duties that in the past would have fallen to Loki himself. Thor looks strange like this, huge and hulking, a wild creature confined to a home ill suited for it. Yet there’s something appealing about it as well, as though Thor has finally learned the skills Loki sought to teach him for many long years.

Thor sets down his pen. He grunts a little as he pushes himself out of his chair, using the table to stand, pressing one hand to his lower back as he stretches back and forth. Loki finds that he’s digging his nails into his palms, in an effort not to make a noise. Thor truly has changed. His tunic stretches tight around him, and Loki gets little glimpses of a thick waist and heavy thighs before Thor grabs his cloak and swings it about his shoulders.

Loki skitters out of the way as Thor turns and stomps out of the room. He follows at Thor’s heels, even as he tells himself he should go look at whatever Thor was working on. Loki can’t bring himself to, however. There are more important things to be done.


Thor leads Loki back to what have to be his bedchambers. They have a real door, rather than the fur skins that seem to be serving in place of doors in much of the rest of the house. Thor throws the doors open and Loki has a chance to slip inside before he slams them closed.

The first room seems to be some sort of parlor. There’s another desk and a heavy table with a few carven chairs. A flagon of ale stands in the center of the table, with a plate of apples beside it. Thor passes them by, though, ducking through the fur hanging over the inner doorway.

Inside, when Loki slips in, Thor has already thrown off his cloak. He’s tugging his tunic off when Loki catches sight of him. It’s just above his waist when Loki finally fails to hold back his gasp.

Thor drops the hem of his tunic instantly, looking up, his wide hands clenched into fists and his knees lightly bent, as if ready for a fight. For a moment, he looks around. Then he too sighs.

“You’re not there, are you?” he asks the empty air just to the left of Loki’s head. Loki holds his breath, and Thor goes on, relaxing as he talks. “I should stop jumping like this, ready to believe that every creak of a floorboard is your footstep and every whisper of wind is your breath. But Loki… I can’t. I keep thinking that I’m going to open my eyes one day and you’re going to be beside me, looking down and laughing at me.”

Loki takes a deep breath, and twitches his fingers. His spell drops and he becomes visible just as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m not laughing,” he says.

Thor sits down on his bed with a heavy thud.

Now that he’s visible, and staring straight at Thor, Loki cannot help but take the time to examine him, to rake his eyes over his brother’s body.

Thor is indeed larger than he was before. His shoulders are thick and wide, new muscle covering them. His tunic strains to cover his broad chest and thick pecs, and his nipple peak through the fabric.

It creases underneath them, and then stretches tight over Thor’s belly. That too is larger, and Loki’s mouth goes unexpectedly dry as he sees how Thor’s waist is thick and how his belly has found its way to sit on his thighs.

Those thighs are surprisingly wide as well. As always, Thor’s trousers are tight, almost leggings that cling to his skin and highlight the spread of his legs. They seem to be stretched even tighter than before though, wrapped around thighs that touch at the top and lead down to wide calves.

Loki takes this all in during the short moment when Thor stares at him wordlessly. Then he’s distracted from his examination by Thor getting to his feet and stumbling over on unsteady legs.

“Loki?” He asks.

“That is still my name,” Loki says, trying for levity, but not able to manage it with a voice that croaks out every word. Thor is so close to him now that Loki can feel the warmth of his body. For a moment Thor pauses just in front of him, a hand raised, not quite touching Loki.

“Not going to throw something at me?” Loki asks. “Don’t you want to check to make sure I’m real?”

“If you’re not, I don’t want to know,” Thor tells him. “If you are nothing more than a vision my mind has created, an image of longing formed from dust motes floating in the air, then let me dream for a while yet.”

“I’m no hallucination,” Loki says, just as Thor’s thick fingers find their way to tangle in the back of his long hair.

Thor cups his neck carefully, and Loki notices, abstractly, distantly, that he takes care not to press his fingers into Loki’s throat. It’s a distant fact, though, because most of Loki’s mind is taken up with the fact that he has finally found his way back here, and that Thor is alive and holding him and not angry at him.

They stand that way for long moments, their only contact Thor’s thick fingers playing through Loki’s hair. Thor’s breath is harsh, coming in little fluttering gasps, his broad chest heaving as he pants. Loki is not much better, staring at Thor’s wide lips and heavy beard, wondering what Thor is thinking but not able to ask.

The silence is finally broken when Thor lets his hand drop to Loki’s shoulders. “You’re real,” he murmurs.

“Yes, as real as you are,” Loki says, and it feels like a promise.

“How?” Thor asks. “It’s been five years, Loki. I thought… everyone told me you were dead. And I thought that it was probably time to accept what they said as true.”

“It is a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere. And I have missed your stories.”

“Have you?” Loki asks. He pulls away from Thor just far enough to perch on the arm of the sofa that lurks across the room from Thor’s bed. Thor follows him, sinking down next to Loki, lounging back. He sighs as he sits down, and Loki’s eyes skip over his broad chest and down across his belly, fixing once again on his thick thighs. He stares for a few seconds, until Thor finally speaks up.

“I have. I truly have, Loki. It has been… I have been very alone without you.”

“Did you mourn?” Loki asks, and Thor’s eyes go wide. He reaches out, setting a hand on Loki’s knee and looking up at him.

“I did not,” he whispers.


“I could not believe you dead. Not this time. I would not.”

“And for once, you were right, Thor. I should be proud of you,” Loki tells him. He can’t quite say that he is, however. If Thor had mourned, it would have meant that he was thinking of Loki, the whole time that Loki was thinking of him, trying to get back to him.

“You are not?”


“Why?” Thor asks.


“Why now? Why after five years, have you come back to me - to us?” Thor stutters. “Did you finally run out of people to trick?” He asks bitterly, the words a rush after he corrects his first question.

“Thor,” Loki sighs. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“I wish I did not.”

“I couldn’t come before now.”

“Why not? Could you not find your way to us?”

“I… Thor, you have to understand. Thanos almost killed me. Even with all my power focused on keeping myself alive, by the time someone fished me out of the wreckage of our dead ship, I was almost spent. I had no magic. I couldn’t even keep up my appearance as your brother.”

“And you thought I would not welcome you back as a jotun?” Thor asks, astonished. “I am not the bigot I once was.”

“I didn’t say that!” Loki exclaims, but he cannot help but wonder what Thor would have done, if he had appeared on the doorstep, his skin blue and covered in the lines of his heritage.

“No?” Thor asks. “Then why?”

“I couldn’t, Thor.” Loki hisses. “I spent my whole time, every moment of the last five years, every second, just trying to make my way to you. I went to Midgard, for the Norns’ sake. And when I got there they said you’d gone, and it took almost a year to get off their planet and find someone willing to take me in this direction. You have no idea the things I have done, just to earn my passage here.”

Thor snarls at that, his chest quivering and his fingers balling into knots. Even through his own anger, Loki’s eyes catch and hold on Thor’s heaving sides and the way his jaw goes thick and soft when he sets it. He’s distracted, though, both from his fury and his strange obsession with Thor’s body by Thor’s voice.

“I… Loki…” Thor starts, and as Loki watches, he seems to get himself under control by sheer force of will.

“Yes?” Loki hisses out, managing to make his anger clear in his voice, even as he feels it draining away in the face of Thor’s soft eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I did not know.”

“You never do.”

“You’re right,” Thor admits. It might be the first time he’s ever admitted that without a struggle. “I don’t. You have proved yourself to me, after all. You died for me.”


“Twice,” Thor repeats, grinning a little at Loki. “Of course, this time I did kill your erstwhile murderer, and restore the universe to its proper course, but that does not compare to what you have sacrificed for me - for Asgard.”

“For you,” Loki corrects him, grinning. “Asgard seems like it has prospered here, all without my help. Though - ” he casts his eye across Thor and then reaches out a finger, poking Thor right in his soft side. “You seem to have prospered without me as well.”

He does not expect what happens next. Instead of laughing off his words, or telling him how well Asgard has fared in his absence, Thor jumps up, shying away from Loki’s hands. He’s through the door in an instant, leaving Loki alone in his bedchamber, staring at the swinging door hanging with wide eyes.


It takes a moment for Loki to collect himself enough to follow Thor back into the sitting room. When he does, he finds Thor slumped over the table, his head in his hands. Like this, his arms look thick and his hands are enormous. Loki notes all that in the instant he comes through the doorway.

“For once, I meant no insult,” he whispers. “You look good, Thor.”

Thor laughs, his head still in his hands. He peers through his fingers, still laughing. “You are a flatterer, as always, Loki, but I fear this particular flattery may be outside your skill.”

“What are you talking about?” Loki asks, genuinely perplexed.

He comes to perch on the table next to Thor, looking down at him once again. Thor drags his head out of his hands, sitting back so he can run his hands over his body and then up to his face. Loki follows their motion, strangely eager, wishing that Thor spent a bit more time tracing the curves and softened angles of his body.

“I look tired,” Thor says when he reaches his face. “I look a mess, in a tunic I should have gotten rid of months ago, or gotten a tailor to let out. I look as though I haven’t been to the training yard in months.”

“I doubt that,” Loki whispers. If he speaks aloud, his voice will break.

“I look it, though,” Thor says. His cheeks are pink.


“Loki, don’t try to tell me I am just as I always was. I know that stress and time spent at my desk have taken their toll.”

“Thor, that’s not what I was going to say. You do look tired. But more than that, you look… you look good.” Loki admits.

He reaches out and rests his hand on one of Thor’s pecs. Now that he can feel the warmth of Thor’s skin through his thin tunic, and can dig the tips of his fingers slightly into Thor’s soft chest, Loki can finally admit to himself that he’s wanted to do this ever since he saw Thor stand up in the library.

Thor gasps, and Loki realizes that he’s put his hand on his brother’s chest without so much as a by-your-leave, and without any obvious rhyme or reason to his actions. He rolls his shoulders. Perhaps he has no plan, no reason, but he has spent the past five years with only one plan: to get back to Thor. Now that he’s here, he’s happy to spend a little time just doing what he wants.

“I want to see you,” he whispers.

Thor mouthes soundlessly for a moment, then nods. It’s one sharp jerk of his head, but it’s enough to have Loki tugging at Thor’s tunic, trying to pull it off. It’s too tight, though, and it gets caught on the curve of Thor’s belly. Thor has to reach down and free it, struggling to get it over his head and then to throw it down on the sitting room floor.

When he’s finally free of his tunic, Loki has to bite his lip to keep from making some sort of sound that would have been far to expressive. Instead, he reaches out and cups Thor’s pecs again. They’re soft, great pillowy swells of golden skin that Loki wants to press together, just to see the valley they form.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s on his knees in front of Thor, indulging in just that temptation. Thor makes a sound that might be an odd sort of gasp, but also might be a whimper when Loki puts both hands on his chest and shoves.

The valley is deep, and Loki just barely resists his urge to press his face into it and lay his cheek on Thor’s chest. He lets go as soon as he gets the desire under control, afraid to keep tempting himself. Somewhere above him, Thor rumbles with disappointment.

“Loki,” he breathes.

Loki ignores him. He has finally moved down to Thor’s belly. It’s soft, all Thor’s vaunted abs hidden behind a layer of chub and thick love handles. Loki finds himself tracing the crease at Thor’s waist, then running his fingers over the curve of Thor’s stomach to play with his navel, dipping inside and then out.

There are tiny stretch marks radiating out from the center of Thor’s belly, and more on his sides near his hips. Loki’s fingers tremble as he traces each and every one of them. They are a soft red gold against Thor’s skin, and they, more than anything else, make Loki’s breath speed. They break the line of Thor’s golden perfection, and give him a character he has never had before.

Loki dips his head down, wanting to taste. His tongue flicks out without his express permission, but the moment it finds Thor’s skin, he can’t imagine why he would have forbidden himself this indulgence if he could have.

Thor tastes like rainwater and warmth and summer storms. Loki licks along one of the darkest marks on his side, feeling how the skin is a little puckered. His whole body floods with heat. Somehow, these little marks make his brother so much more than a bronze idol. They make him real, and tempting, and more than Loki can stand.

“Brother,” Thor moans as Loki kisses his sides, shaking beneath Loki’s hands, where Loki is now clawing at every new, soft curve.

“Thor,” Loki whispers back, pressing his face into Thor’s belly.

“What are you doing?” Thor gasps.

Loki looks up. Thor’s cheeks are bright red. From this angle, his chin looks soft and welcoming, just like his chest and stomach. Loki surges up to mouth at it as well. Thor does not pull away.

“Doing what I desire,” Loki whispers. “I have spent all this time trying to get back to you, Thor. I deserve a reward, do I not?”

“And you would choose this?” Thor waves a hand over himself. “Your own brother? Me?”

“I would choose this more than anything on offer in the whole galaxy,” Loki tells him. His heart beats a little faster in his chest, his whole body aching with the honesty.

Thor looks down at him, eyes wide. “You truly mean that?”

“Let me show you,” Loki says, breathless. He presses a kiss to the soft curve of Thor’s belly just above his navel, then looks up at Thor again.

Thor nods.

Loki smiles, kissing harder at Thor’s belly, then nuzzling the mark his lips leave. He has not felt this desperate for years, not since before all this began, not since he and Thor will only princes, living in the blissful ignorance of their youth.

He pushes all that from his mind, focusing on Thor, wiping all his other thoughts away. His brother trembles beneath him, thick thighs parting even wider as Loki shuffles forward. Loki kisses Thor’s belly again, running his hands over it, admiring how it settles just between Thor’s legs.

“So soft,” he whispers into Thor’s skin. Thor makes a choked sound above him, and Loki looks up to find him blushing.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Loki murmurs. He runs his fingers lightly across Thor’s belly and hefts it in his hands once he gets to where it pushes out over the waistband of Thor’s leggings. “You look beautiful, Thor. More beautiful that I’ve ever seen.”

“Loki,” Thor gasps again. This time, Loki’s name sounds like a prayer on his lips, and Loki smiles at the worship.

“Has no one told you that?” He murmurs. Thor shakes his head. “What a shame. You should have people at their knees, begging just for the chance to taste your skin.”

“I- I would not want that?”

“Do you not like me on my knees in front of you?” Loki teases. He nuzzles one of Thor’s thighs, kissing the underside of Thor’s belly just where Loki holds tight to it.

“Just you,” Thor mutters.


“You have to… I haven’t wanted…”

Loki grins, still hot all over, still desperate to explore Thor’s beautiful new body, but finally faced with the way Thor’s cock has thickened in his leggings. He cups it with one hand.

“Have you not wanted anyone else all this time?”

“I have not wanted to demand… they have lost so much. And they might feel it a duty to their king.”

“Are you not worried I will think it duty?”

At this Thor laughs. His sides heave and jiggle when he does, his chest bouncing and his thighs shaking. “Loki, I would never believe you so self effacing.”

“Good, brother,” Loki says, and pulls at the waistband of Thor’s leggings.

Thor moans when Loki calls him that, and lifts up his hips obediently so Loki can slide his leggings down and off. He’s completely naked now, and his cock smacks against his belly, pressed outward by its swell.

“Fuck,” Loki swears. Above him, Thor is blushing again, his whole chest flushed. Loki can’t help but reach up and tweak one of his nipples, then squeeze his pink chest. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “Should put you in lace and fuck your tits, brother.”

Thor gasps, his cheeks flaming even more, but his cock jumps and precome spills out to slick the head.

“You like that?” Loki asks. He’s never seen his brother like this before, not really, but he has spent days upon days, years upon years, centuries even, all imagining what Thor would look like, hard and leaking in front of him.

This is better than his wildest dreams. Thor is soft and pliant, but beneath the new curves of his thighs, the jiggle of his belly, and the softness of his chin, strength lurks. Loki feels it suddenly, when Thor grabs his wrist, holding Loki’s hand to his chest and moaning.

“Touch me,” he whispers.

Loki laughs, reaching up with his other hand and pressing Thor’s pecs together. Then he finally gives into his earlier temptation and buries his face in the deep valley between them, licking and biting. Thor whimpers, then moans as Loki presses against him. Every time Loki kisses a particularly sensitive spot, Thor gives a short breathy gasp that has Loki’s own cock growing harder in his trousers.

They continue like this for a few beautiful moments, until Loki finds that Thor’s cock is too tempting. It’s pressing into his abs, forced between him and Thor by the curve of Thor’s stomach. Loki tears himself away from Thor’s chest, looking down.

“Look how thick you are, Thor,” he says. “You’re so soft for me, but then there’s this.” He reaches down and cups Thor’s cock with his hand.

“Loki,” Thor whimpers.

“Can I suck you?” Loki asks. “I want you in my mouth, want to taste you.”

“Please,” Thor begs, “Please, brother, please.” He’s already whining for Loki’s touch.

“Shh,” Loki smoothes a hand across his belly, then sinks back to kneel flat in front of Thor. He licks tentatively at the head of Thor’s cock, his nose bumping against Thor’s belly. “Fuck, Thor. Do you see this?” he asks.

He hefts Thor’s belly in one hand again, holding Thor’s cock steady with the other and nuzzling against it. Thor makes a strangled sound that might be an answer, but Loki doesn’t spend time trying to figure it out.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he gasps. “So soft, and like you’ve finally let yourself spend time on ruling. You look like a king, Thor.”

He doesn’t hear what Thor answers, because he takes the head of Thor’s cock between his lips and swallows him down in one go.

It’s been years since Loki did this, but it isn’t hard to remember the way to swallow hard and open his throat for the head of Thor’s cock. Thor is thick and long, and the way his belly presses against Loki makes this a little awkward, but Loki is more turned on than he can ever remember being, and this is more than worth it.

It takes only a few moments before Thor’s hips twitch, and Loki feels his cock jumping. He grabs hold of the base, pulling off to look at Thor. “You can fuck my throat,” he says horsely.

He licks a bead of precome off the head of Thor’s cock as Thor moans. Then Loki rubs his lips across Thor’s slit, licking them afterward to make sure he gets every drop. It’s so good, and he dives back in for more. Thor’s cock is only slightly curved, the perfect shape to fit in his throat, with a thick vein running along the underside that Loki tongues enthusiastically at.

Thor seems to have taken him at his word, because the moment Loki has Thor in his throat again, Thor starts to pump his hips. Loki swallows hard, pushing down his instinct to pull away, and shuts his eyes. Now, all he can feel is the press of Thor’s stomach against his forehead and the feel of Thor’s cock deep in his throat, pushing and pushing and pushing. There’s nothing around him but the smell of Thor, the feel of Thor’s thighs as they brush past his face, the sound of Thor’s little whimpers. Loki presses a hand to his own pants, rutting against himself almost without volition as Thor takes over all of his senses.

His throat is starting to burn and stars blossom behind his eyelids. Still, Loki holds on. Thor feels so good inside him, wiping away every horrible, unpleasant deal and deed and promise Loki had to make to get back here. There’s only Thor left, nothing more, nothing less, just Thor, warm and safe and soft like home.

Loki swallows one more time, and then, with a roar, Thor comes. His balls draw up, and he empties himself down Loki’s throat. Loki has just enough presence of mind to pull off half way through, far enough that the last spurts of Thor’s come land in his mouth, instead of sliding down his throat right away.

It’s Thor’s taste, more than anything else, that sends Loki over the edge as well. He comes in his trousers, with only his hand as stimulation, coming as though he were a randy boy, with new-found manhood, and not a prince grown.

It does not matter. For once, it does not matter.

Loki sags in place, his mind clear, and his whole body warm, filled with sparks like lighting. For a few long moments he stays there, panting hard, still tasting Thor on his lips.

Thor reaches down and lifts Loki straight off the floor and into his lap. It’s warm there too, and Loki cuddles against Thor, mind still blank. He lays his head agains the pillow of Thor’s chest, and matches his breathing to Thor’s.

They stay that way for what feels like an hour.

Slowly, their breathing slows. Slowly, Loki comes back to himself enough to realize that he’s curled in his naked brother’s lap, pressed against Thor’s ample chest and chubby belly, his own trousers damp with spend. He struggles against the arm Thor has around his waist, trying to get up.

“Stop thinking,” Thor rumbles. His belly jiggles a little when he huffs the words in Loki’s ear, and Loki is distracted for long enough that Thor’s arms tighten around him in a vise-like grip.

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“Yes, yes you can. You’ve come back to me, and you’re here with me, and that was wonderful, Loki. Incredible.” Thor pauses for a moment. “You did like it, right?”

Loki cannot help but smile. “More than anything,” he admits, his chest hot with honesty once again.

“Then stay here. Enjoy this. Be happy. For once, be happy with me.”

“I can’t… I can’t promise that, Thor. Satisfaction isn’t in my nature.”

Thor kisses the top of Loki’s head, and then, for the first time ever, presses his lips to Loki’s. He kisses Loki so softly, that Loki wonders at it, at his great, stormy brother showing such sweetness. He can’t wonder for long though, because the kiss deepens, and when Thor finally pulls away, Loki is panting.

“Perhaps I can teach you,” Thor murmurs. He grabs Loki’s hand, setting it on his belly, then kisses Loki softly one more time. “Satisfaction seems to be in mine.”