Actions

Work Header

Barren Lands to Fertile Fields

Work Text:

Loki was unaware of how long it took to dig himself out of the earth. When he finally breached the surface, fingers clawing through dirt and meeting nothingness, he had hoped to get his first breath of fresh air since death. Yet as his head burst above ground, what filled his lungs was a mouthful of sand that had sprayed onto his face.

He wheezed, his eyes forced to labor with tears to flush out the sediment. With his eyes squeezed shut, Loki wriggled himself out of the ground like an ungraceful earthworm.

The wind blew with sand, the grains striking Loki from every angle. It was a strange thing, considering he had surfaced in Manhattan, where there was barely any ground not encased in cement and asphalt, let alone any amount of this much loose sand. Once free, Loki cast a shield to protect himself from the gusts, and he could finally open his eyes.

It was a nightmarish landscape. He recognized the tall and towering structures around him as the same ones of the city he had invaded years previously, but they were now eroded, weathered down to the point where entire walls had disappeared. Down the street, in fact, was the Avengers Tower - though half of it was destroyed, the irregular crumbling indicative of an explosion as well as of natural collapse. Not a single soul was visible on the streets, for the entire city was engulfed in a thick storm of smog, sand, and dust. The city had been grey before, but it still had been infused with life, movement, and flashes of color. Now it was all buried in ash and decay.

Loki observed this while brushing off his armor. It seemed that whatever had happened after Thanos killed him hadn’t been good, to say the least. Loki could only take comfort in the fact that in his time at Hel, he had seen neither hide nor hair of his brother. Thor was still alive, somewhere, and Loki was going to find him.

Loki wandered the city in search of information. Whatever cataclysmic event had happened, there was sure to be some clue of where his brother might have gone: whether he remained yet on Midgard, or had abandoned the Midgardians for another realm. All objects in the outside world had sunk beneath the storm, so Loki searched for a sealed storefront where people might have often passed. He found one several blocks down - its broken green signage declared it as ST RB  KS, and inside were a plethora of tables as well as a board pinned with papers. The door was locked, but a single tug from Loki had it swinging open. He slid inside, careful to not allow the storm to enter with him, and made his way to the board.

Handwritten notes littered the entire surface, so dense that it was almost as if they had formed a pelt made of paper. A brief glance showed penmanship of all kinds and in all colors. Some of these notes were pleas requesting salvation, others were welcoming of their approaching fate. Some of them left contact information for anyone who wished to spend their last moments with company. They all reeked of desperation. The words to a printed news article barely peeked through the mass, and Loki peeled away the notes to reveal it.

EARTH’S LAST SANCTUARY, the headline read.

The picture showed a foreign city, one Loki had never seen on Midgard. Wakanda, the article called it. The last bastion for humanity. The only place where life could still survive on a decaying planet.

At the bottom of the article was another picture. It showed a group of what Loki assumed were the remaining Avengers - Stark, the Captain, the Spider, Banner, some other beings Loki did not know - and Thor. He had two eyes, and his hair was still cropped short. In the grey photograph, his brother’s expression was devastatingly empty.

 

According to the article, Wakanda stood on the Eastern side of the African continent. Loki climbed his way to a rooftop, and from there, he shifted his form into a bird and flew. The storm raged all around him, but he continued, his shield protecting him from harm. When the gusts finally parted around him, he found himself over water. Below, the ocean roiled. Heat wafted from the furious waves. Even from the skies, Loki could tell that the water was hot enough to burn.

The entire sky was tinted orange from the pollution of dust, and the clouds looked more like clumps of shadow, masses of ash hanging above the world.

Loki’s heart fluttered within his chest. He knew, now, that the Mad Titan had succeeded. Thanos had sundered the universe too suddenly; when so many strings of Fate snapped all at once, the entire tapestry threatened to fall. The worlds were dying, the universe slowly pulling apart with each newly broken thread. Soon enough, they would all collapse.

Loki flew for days. The sun burned, orange and massive, and set, bringing a deep chill. This world had reached its winter, but the ash which buried the world might never melt to make way for the spring.

The African continent passed beneath Loki’s wings. It had been a desert before, and it remained so now. The sand dunes had taken over the entire continent: no trees, no towns, no signs of life could be seen. It was all sand.

Loki knew when he had reached Wakanda by the sight of its greenery. A blue barrier glittered in a dome shape, creating a clear divide between the barren wasteland of the outside world and the grassy fields within. Loki came to a halt, flapping his wings before the barrier. There must be an entrance somewhere. He flew around until he found a gateway. Two guards stood beside it within the barrier, and they seemed surprised at the sight of a bird before them. They looked at each other and spoke, their words inaudible past the barrier. Apparently, any surviving life was still welcome; one of the guards tapped at a screen that appeared from her bracelet, and the gateway opened.

“Where did this bird come from?” one of the guards asked, but Loki flew away swiftly.

He could feel Thor, now.

He could sense his brother dying.

 

Loki soared into what must have been an audience hall, an open and airy space fit for royal presence. It was there that Loki saw Thor, sitting on a chair, his hands picking through seeds and blessing each one with life and fertility.

“Stop it!” Loki roared into his own body, a swirl of feathers bursting in the air around him as yanked the seeds from Thor’s hands. Thor had no time to react before Loki tossed the seeds back into the basket and clamped a hand around his brother’s arm. It was thin, thinner even than when Thor had been in his adolescent years. Still muscled, but far too lean. His brother had aged terribly, his vitality having been sapped by his efforts to maintain this pitiful scrap of land.

Thor was a god of fertility. His very presence yielded great bounties, and his blessing turned soils rich and fertile. He could call rains to water crops, and the seeds he touched would grow with abundance. He had every ability to nourish and sustain life, and that was what the Midgardians had him do. In the face of their own planet dying, every speck of ground becoming barren, every drop of water turning to poison, they begged their god to save them. And so he did. He used every scrap of his power to nourish their dead soil and water their dried earth.

Even if, in the process, he used his own life to do it.

Thor parted his sunken, chapped lips. His eyes, one a familiar blue, the other a strange brown, were enormous on his face. “Loki?”

The moment Loki appeared, the entire room erupted into commotion. Loki spared not a second of thought for the audience around them; he snarled at Thor, “We are going to your rooms.” With a twist of magic, he urged himself to the place in this city that carried the most of Thor’s essence. One moment they were in the audience hall, and the next found them in a small, homely room.

This is how they accommodate a king?” There was only a single bed in this room, a small desk, a chair. A mirror hung on the wall next to a shelf of sparse clothing. An axe, radiating energy and power, sat against the wall.

“Lo-Loki?” Thor gripped Loki’s arm painfully tight, drawing Loki’s attention back to him. Thor’s expression was raw with disbelief and pain, teetering on the edge of hope. He couldn’t believe that Loki had returned; Loki could scarcely believe it, either.

“I was dead,” Loki said. “But I came back.”

Thor hovered at a distance. They were connected only by the hands on each other’s arms. But in the next breath, Thor had launched himself at Loki, wrapping him between his arms and squeezing him with such pressure that a lesser man would have been crushed. It was a grip which said that even if Loki were an illusion, Thor would still never let him go.

“I’m here.” Loki carded his hand through Thor’s hair. Thor had pressed his face into the junction of Loki’s neck, weeping. “I’m here, brother.”


Loki had pressed Thor down onto the bed. His brother had refused to let go of him, his hands clinging to any piece of Loki he could grasp, so Loki had to kneel over the bed to lay Thor down on the mattress. “Shhh, Thor.” He caressed the undersides of Thor’s eyes, wiping away the tears. “You need to sleep.”

“Loki,” Thor croaked. Even as the spell took hold, Thor fought valiantly to keep his eyes open, gazing upon his brother as desperately as a man in a desert seeking water. “Don’t go.” His hands trembled where they wrapped around Loki’s wrist and shoulder, refusing to let go even when the sleep urged Thor toward unconsciousness.

“Shhh.” Loki stroked Thor’s head, comforting. “It will be alright. Sleep, Thor.”

“Loki…” The drowsiness took hold. Thor’s eyes blurred; his blinks turned heavy. “Don’t…”

Loki leaned down. His lips brushed Thor’s forehead, a soft kiss. “I will be here,” he said, and Thor’s fingers finally fell to the bed, his eyes sliding shut.

When he was sure Thor had entered sleep, Loki rose from the bed. He used seidr to strip Thor of his clothing and boots, and pulled the blanket over his brother’s resting body. Thor’s chest rose and fell gently. Loki left his hand over Thor’s heart, feeling it beat weakly beneath his skin. This could not be allowed to go on.

With another twist of seidr, Loki brought himself to the fields of Wakanda. They were sprawling plains of lush land. Sheep and cows grazed on the grasses, and rows of crops sprung vibrantly from the soil. His brother had ensured they would exist; they were fed by his brother’s lifeblood.

Loki walked down an empty plot, gazing into the soil. This was fallow land. It was dead, all nutrients disappeared; the ash had taken them away. Thor would have had to come tend to this land, coax it back to fertility, and lose another year or two of his life in doing so.

Loki heard the sound of someone approach behind him, but he did not turn until the person spoke. “So,” the man said, “You’re still alive, Reindeer Games? Thor seemed pretty sure you were a goner.”

“I was.” Loki faced Tony Stark. The man was old, now, his hair grey and his face creased with wrinkles. Several decades must have passed since Loki’s death, then, but not so many, if the mortals were still alive.

“You gonna explain how you’re still kicking around, then?”

“Death doesn’t seem to stick,” Loki said. Behind Stark, others were fast approaching. The Captain. Banner. A troupe of Wakandan guards. “Tell me, what were you planning to do when my brother finally died?”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“He cannot do this forever,” Loki said. “You did notice that Thor is killing himself to keep this land alive?”

Stark’s backup had arrived. They circled around Loki, hands gripping their weapons defensively. Loki paid them no mind. He looked at Stark, whose face was slowly shifting with horror.

“He said--” Stark stopped. His eyes dropped to the ground, mouth parting with realization.

“Yes,” Loki said. “My brother has learned to tell a good lie.”

 

The Midgardians threatened Loki for all of two minutes, after which Loki said, “I can save your planet, you know.”

They all looked at him with distrust - except for Banner, who said, relieved, “Really? Can you? Great.”

“You believe him?” Rogers frowned at Banner, who shrugged.

“Hey, I figure that if Thor’s the only one keeping us alive, maybe Loki’s got something up his sleeve that could work, too. Besides, he’s not that bad - we’ve got a 50/50 chance of him actually wanting to help us.”

“I really don’t know what to say about the fact that you think a 50/50 chance is a good thing,” Stark said.

“Hey, when it comes to Loki? I’ll take those chances. Usually he’s at a 0 on the helpfulness.”

“I’m so happy to see that even these long years of separation have not changed your views of me,” Loki said. He turned to Stark. “Did any other Asgardians make it here?”

“Yeah, a couple. They’re in the city.”

“Bring them to me,” Loki said. “I need their help for this to work.”

 

There were more Asgardians than Loki had expected. Approximately half of the ship had successfully escaped. Only half of those had actually made it alive to Midgard. They said that Thor had offered to bring them to other realms - Vanaheim, Alfheim - but they all stayed. They could not abandon their King.

Loki found among them a few farmers, and two of the orchard workers who had tended to Idunn’s apple trees. Loki set them to work on the fallow fields, making them prepare the land for planting.

He then waited for two days by Thor’s bedside. His brother recovered slowly, aided by Loki’s seidr. Loki brushed his fingers against the scar on Thor’s face, watching his brother steadily regain color, his face no longer as weary as before.

On the third day, Loki woke Thor up.

Thor’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze wandered in the air before settling on Loki, and a bright but sleepy smile spread across his face. “Loki - you’re here.” He reached out, his arm still weak with drowsiness.

Loki had not stripped the spell entirely. Thor would have to return to sleep, soon, after they were done.

He caught Thor’s hand as it reached out to him, and stroked his brother’s palm with his thumb. “I told you I would be. I’m here to help you, Thor. But I need something from you.”

“Anything,” Thor whispered.

Loki leaned down to kiss him.

Addled by the sleep spell, Thor kissed back sloppily, mouthing at Loki’s lips. Loki flicked his tongue playfully inside Thor’s mouth before moving away. He climbed onto the bed and settled over Thor’s taut stomach. A single movement of his seidr, and Loki was naked above him; Thor moaned at the sight, his hands drunkenly reaching for Loki’s thighs and groping them greedily.

“So beautiful,” he slurred. He tried to sit up to better reach for Loki’s body, but Loki pushed him down.

“No. You’re to rest.” At Thor’s whine, Loki leaned down again to kiss him. “I’ll be the one making you beg today,” he whispered, a promise.

Thor’s cock had started filling the moment Loki first kissed him. Loki sat up and ground his ass down on it, feeling it thicken, hot and heavy beneath him. Thor was already panting lightly, hips jerking up and desperate for the touch of Loki’s skin. It was amazing how eager he was in his half-sleep.

Loki gently rocked his hips back and forth, letting Thor slide between his cheeks. He ran his hands down Thor’s chest, across his muscled stomach. Thor mewled, wanting more yet unable to act on it; whenever he tried to sit up and reach for Loki’s body, Loki pushed him back down and slapped his hands away.

“Please, Loki.” Thor already broke down. “Please, let me touch you, I need you. I want to taste you, I want to fill you--” He keened. His cock had turned hard and stiff and wet beneath Loki, who continued to roll his hips with teasing grinds.

“So desperate, Thor.” Loki rewarded his brother by slipping back and letting the head of Thor’s cock rest perfectly against Loki’s hole. Thor moaned at the feeling of Loki’s hole mouthing at the tip. “You act as if you haven’t laid with anyone in decades.”

“I haven’t,” Thor choked. “I wouldn’t.”

“Oh?” Loki let more of his weight settle on Thor’s cock. The tip just barely pressed into his hole.

Thor’s head fell back with a wordless groan, his chest heaving. His hips twitched, wanting to shove his cock in, wanting to feel Loki’s heat around him, but Loki had him pinned down. Thor would only take what Loki gave.

A moment passed where Thor recovered his breath; then he said, in a hoarse, fervent whisper: “You swore to me. You swore to me. And I... even when you were gone, I swore the same to you. You were mine, and I was yours. I would never have anyone else other than you.”

Loki took these words quietly. When the stones had settled in his heart, he said, “You could have spent an eternity alone.”

“It wouldn’t be so long.”

“You fool.” At that, Loki raised his hips and drove them down, viciously, sinking all the way onto Thor’s cock, letting thickness plunge him open all at once. His legs shook and trembled from the enormous girth inside of him, while Thor threw his head back with a shout. His cock was inside Loki now, and he immediately started pumping it in and out in small, frantic thrusts.

Loki panted, hungry, the pain and pleasure of being split open making him dazed. He sat there, letting Thor take him, his body rocking up and down atop Thor’s desperate thrusts.

“So good, so good, Loki--” Thor bucked his hips, grinding with ease against the spot that made Loki’s cock jerk and dribble onto Thor’s stomach. Loki hissed, skin feeling tight; Thor noticed.

“You want me just as badly,” he said, pumping into Loki, snapping sharp thrusts inside of Loki’s deepest parts. “You want me to fill you, want me to take you, brother; you love this as much as I do--”

“Yes,” Loki hissed, fingers arching. He raked his nails against Thor’s chest, and the flash of pain made Thor moan and stutter his rhythm. Loki pressed his advantage; he rose and slid down in a long, smooth movement, going from the very base to the very tip of Thor, every inch of his brother’s cock sinking in and out. This made Thor cry out, shaking; his eyes were transfixed to the sight of Loki taking him, over and over, hole stretching around Thor anew every time he raised himself up and sat back down. Loki luxuriated in the feeling of being filled, then empty, then filled again, the delicious burn of the wide stretch of his hole around his brother.

“I need you to come inside me, Thor,” Loki murmured, rubbing and grinding Thor’s tip on his prostate, selfishly milking pleasure for himself. At those words, Thor groaned and instinctively thrust harshly; Loki’s mouth fell open as Thor struck inside him just so, jabbing his prostate perfectly and sending sparks racing up Loki’s body. He sat there, held in place while Thor fucked him, drilling against Loki’s pleasure point with such merciless precision that Loki’s cock started weeping, drooling messily on Thor’s skin. Loki began rocking his hips back and forth, sliding his cock against the cleft of Thor’s stomach muscles.

“Spill for me, brother,” Thor begged, his hips slamming against the bottom of Loki’s thighs. “I’ll fill you as many times as you like, I’ll give it all to you - just please, let me see you.”

Loki bit down on a sob, body shuddering from the intensity of the fucking and the begging. He fell forward, collapsing over Thor; Thor’s arms came around him, and their lovemaking turned into a slow and sensual grind as Loki trembled and spilled between them. Thor moaned and kissed Loki’s open, pleasure-slack mouth. Moments later, he, too, came inside Loki. A warmth, golden and strong, filled Loki’s stomach, making him feel almost as if he were glowing.

“More,” Loki said, breathy. He worked his hole around Thor’s cock, still inside him. “Give me more, Thor.”

Thor’s cock pulsed. Even as he came, his cock stiffened.

Loki lay there languidly atop his brother, rocked gently as Thor began to fuck back into him. Thor mouthed at Loki’s neck, shaping moans with his lips against Loki’s skin. The seed already within Loki slicked the way for Thor, letting him slide in and out with ease.

Once Loki had recovered, he detached himself from Thor’s chest and began riding him again. Thor whined at the loss of Loki within his arms, but there was no time to complain when Loki clenched around him. Eventually Loki drew a second load from Thor, this one just as much as the first. Loki was full and sated, his body filled with Thor’s fertility.

“You were so good for me, Thor,” Loki praised, running a hand down Thor’s cheek. His brother looked wrecked, face and neck flushed, eyes wet; Loki knew he did not look much better. Thor strained toward him like he wanted to rise, to press a kiss to Loki’s lips. Loki smiled and set his hand on Thor’s forehead. “But you must go back to sleep.”

Thor’s mouth fell open, indignant for just a moment before the spell took him again. His body went limp against the bed, eyes fluttered shut. His mouth was still open, and he began to snore.

Loki snorted. His brother, the king, elegant as always. He lifted himself from Thor, clenching his hole and trying to keep as much of the spend inside of him as possible. Still, some of it couldn’t help but leak out. When Loki had dressed and walked back to the fallow fields of Wakanda, a trail of Thor’s come had run down his leg.

His stomach was so full; he felt like he could nearly feel it sloshing inside of him, all of that spend, so rich and fertile. Loki stood before the fields, where the farmers had dug fourteen holes of equal distance from each other. He then called upon his seidr and reached into the closed dimension, the hidden place no one other than Loki knew, and in that dimension he searched for one of the treasures he had stored away in his time masquerading as Odin.

It was a wooden box, ornate but decorative. Loki opened the box and pulled out the nondescript bag within. He undid the string tie and reached into the bag; and then, outside of the dimension, Loki uncurled his hand to reveal fourteen seeds.

He went to each hole and carefully planted the seeds, whispering to them, blessing them with life. The fallow earth richened with every step Loki took. Thor’s come, the essence of fertility, was warm in Loki’s stomach. When all fourteen seeds had been planted, securely nestled in their bed of soil, Loki placed a hand over his belly. The magic was used up.

 

It took only three days for the first sprouts to break through the soil.

The golden apple trees of Idunn grew over thousands of years. This world did not have that long to wait, so every day, Loki hastened their growth. Each morning, he woke Thor for a few hours and rode him, making his brother fill him multiple times. When Thor returned to sleep, resting and recovering his strength, Loki walked out with a bellyful of come and laid his blessings over the trees.

Days turned to weeks; the trees had grown tall, nearly Loki’s height. The young leaves were soft and verdant, soaking up sunlight to sustain their rapid growth.

“Damn,” Stark said, when he stopped by the orchard. “Is that an Asgardian royalty thing? Having a magic green thumb?”

“It runs in the family,” Loki said, as Thor’s seed ran hotly between his thighs. Stark, ever ignorant, just looked thoughtfully at the growing trees.

The more time passed, the stronger Thor grew, as well. His bulk had returned; his hair was golden and soft. His skin regained its hearty tones, and the thrum of his blood was strong in his veins.

Loki pulled at the threads of the spell, letting Thor rise from the sleep. Yet Thor’s eyes remained closed; his chest continued rising and falling at the same dozing pace.

Loki paused; his hand hovered above Thor’s forehead. He contemplated for a moment, and made to move away - but in that moment of hesitation, Thor’s hand seized his arm. A flash of movement later, Loki found himself pressed into the bed, Thor’s weight hot and heavy above him.

His brother gazed down at him with narrowed, blazing eyes. He leaned closer, and he murmured, “Did you have fun, teasing me?”

Loki’s breath stuttered. His wrists were held tightly down, gripped by the hot brand of Thor’s hands around them. His legs, his stomach, his chest, all of them were pinned under Thor’s body, which leaked heat even through the layers of Loki’s clothing. Thor’s erection burned where it lay, thick and hard, next to Loki’s cock.

Thor lowered his head to brush his lips against Loki’s cheek, his beard scraping against Loki’s skin. He whispered against the shell of Loki’s ear, “Do you know how it felt, Loki? To wake up every day feeling you clench around me, seeing you ride and take me so sweetly, yet being unable to touch you? Having to lay there as you writhed above me, milking me - using me as if I were a toy, your own personal cock. Do you know how infuriating it was to hear you begging for me to fill you, even as you refused to let me up to fuck you as you deserved?”

Loki bit his lips, clamping them shut; he wrenched his wrists, trying to free himself, but Thor’s grip remained immovable, strength rippling through his muscles with ease.

“Oh, brother,” Thor said, voice light and smug, “you know better than to ask what you can’t take. It might bite you in the ass someday.”

“Like today?” Loki breathed. Even when he tried his best to jerk his wrists free from Thor’s grip, nothing happened other than Thor’s hold tightening around Loki’s delicate skin.

“If you’re good for me,” Thor rumbled, and Loki couldn’t help but shudder and spread his legs.


The next day, the two of them went to the orchard together.

Thor carried him there. Loki could barely move his legs, let alone walk. His stomach was so full that he had to forego his leathers; he wore Thor’s tunic, loose and comforting over the tight stretch of his belly.

The Asgardians gathered at the sight of their king, restored to his former glory. Thor was like the sunlight piercing through clouds: radiant and blinding. All eyes in Wakanda turned toward him as he passed, the Asgardian procession following him.

Stark, Rogers, and Banner emerged from the crowd. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, welcome ba--” It was then that Stark’s gaze fell on Loki. “Uh.” Behind him, Rogers reeled, face burning bright red. Banner, accustomed to such sights, sighed and muttered under his breath, seriously, guys, you can’t keep it to your rooms?

“My friends!” Thor grinned cheerfully at them. Loki, held aloft within Thor’s arms, did not do a single thing to make himself look any less thoroughly fucked.

“Is he pregnant?” Stark squeaked.

Thor boomed out a laugh. “No,” he said. He looked down at Loki, lovingly. “Perhaps someday.” Loki hummed noncommittally.

Stark and Rogers made matching choking noises. Banner had already walked off, shaking his head.

When they reached the orchard, Thor brought Loki to every tree. They blessed each one together, and watched as the trees stretched and grew and flowered, the delicate white buds sprouting from every branch. The flowers blossomed for only moments; in seconds, the petals fell away, and heavy fruit began to weigh down the branches of the trees.

When the golden apples had ripened, Loki called for Idunn’s orchard workers to come and harvest the fruits. The girls worked tirelessly through the day, gathering the apples with care and precision. By the end of the day, they had filled over thirty baskets full of gleaming and golden fruit.

Loki looked over the bounty. It was a fair enough amount for a first try. He summoned a group of Asgardians, those who were trustworthy and deft with their knives, and ordered, “Peel all of the apples. Save the skins, cores, and seeds. The fruit can be shared with our hosts.”

While the Asgardians worked, Thor went to sit down with Loki on a grassy knoll. They watched their people work together to prepare the fruits and bring them to Wakanda, where the taste of Idunn’s apple would bless them with longer lives and sturdier bodies.

“What do you plan to do with the the rest of the apple?” Thor asked, rubbing circles around Loki’s belly. Loki let his head rest back against Thor’s shoulder, his eyes half-lidded in relaxation.

“The apples are the fruit of life eternal. If we spread the skins and the cores across the surface of this planet, they will refertilize the lands and heal this realm’s wounds. Eventually, the air will clear and the seas shall calm. Greenery shall sprout across every continent, and life will be born anew.”

Thor considered this.

“We will need many more apples if you wish to cover all of Midgard,” he murmured. His hand was warm atop Loki’s stomach.

“I suppose we will just have to try our best to provide more,” Loki said. Down by the fields, as the Asgardians whittled down the golden apples, they shucked out the apple seeds and placed them in a growing and glistening pile, large enough to grow an orchard to feed the world.

If they paced things out right, it might only take a few centuries before they were done. Loki couldn't wait. And judging from the heat and hardness behind Loki’s back, neither could Thor.