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Blood singing with your voice

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The first time it happens they’re young, so young, both of them barely past the cusp of adolescence. They’re playing in their mother’s gardens, something Loki already suspects won’t be part of their lives much longer, Thor’s time taken up with his lessons and the weapons training he began earlier this year. Spending an afternoon being chased through the thick maze of hedges, trees and flowerbeds by his older brother, both of them laughing and shouting taunts at one another, will soon be a thing of the past, an inanity frowned upon by their tutors. For now, though, there’s no one to tell them otherwise.

Loki isn’t nearly as strong as his older brother, but he’s fast, long legs eating up the distance quickly, feet beating a swift rhythm against the grass that keeps pace with his racing heart. It takes Thor a long time to catch him; in the end, he only manages because Loki’s sleeve tangles on a mulberry bush and he has to spend precious seconds prying it free. When he finally manages and leaps across a little stream, he catches sight of Thor too late, his brother tackling him around the waist as they go tumbling down.

At first, Loki doesn’t even notice anything is different, too occupied with trying to escape Thor’s grasp, squirming and kicking and cursing his brother in between gales of laughter. And when he does notice his focus has shifted to Thor--foolish, wonderful Thor, who has grown still, paralyzed, eyes wide with what Loki is bewildered to find is terror and, even more perplexingly, shame. Loki falls silent as well, startled out of his mirth by his brother’s sudden change of mood. It’s only then he notices the hardness pressed against his thigh, and against all odds, the only thought that manages to take hold in the sudden emptiness of Loki’s mind is: Oh.

Before he can say anything--taunt, reassurance or even just an exclamation of surprise--Thor is scrambling away from him, cheeks flushed, eyes not meeting Loki’s, tugging at the hem of his tunic as if that might alleviate the condition he’s in. He’s embarrassed. Somehow that seems more marvelous to Loki than anything else about the situation. Thor doesn’t get embarrassed, not even by things he truly should be. The realization brings a surge of something else, something sharper, something that grows teeth and claws as it takes root in Loki’s too clever mind. He can use this against Thor.

Thor, who is already better than Loki at so many things. Thor, who can do no wrong in their father’s eyes. Thor, who their mother may chide but never watches with the worried glances she bestows upon Loki. Thor, who has already started to leave Loki behind when he’s joined by the fools he calls his friends. One word about this and his brother would fall from his golden perch. And just then Loki wants to, that hungry, terrible part he never entirely manages to quell whispering at him to run from the gardens screaming, shouting to all the world what Thor has done.



Loki loves his brother, loves him with the single-minded determination of a boy who doesn’t love much else in his life. Loki loves him better, deeper and more dearly than Volstagg, Fandral, Sif, or even their father or mother could ever hope to. Loki loves him so much he can mostly forgive Thor for eclipsing Loki in everything he does without even trying.

And so Loki doesn’t say anything, allowing Thor to hurry from the gardens without glancing back, and never speaks a word of what came to pass between them that afternoon.


In truth, he’s nearly forgotten about it by the time it happens again, and when it does, everything between them is different. They’re still young, but they’re past the worst follies of that youth and they’ve known for a while now that their love for another is different to that of ordinary siblings. Embracing that reality is new, however, new enough to make them both far too reckless. Loki has ever been susceptible to Thor’s powers of persuasion, and this is how he finds himself pressed to a wall in the antechamber to the communal baths of the Einherjar training grounds, Thor lifting him easily as he sucks bruising kisses into the skin of Loki’s neck.

It’s careless to the degree of lunacy, and when they escape discovery by one of the Einherjar by fortune rather than skill, Loki is furious with Thor, shoving his brother away when he tries to gentle Loki’s wrath with his hands and mouth. He’s even more furious when Thor points out, not incorrectly, that Loki hadn’t done much to stop him. Knowing they’re in no position for him to act on his ire or even to yell at Thor satisfyingly without drawing attention, Loki takes his leave, turning on his heel and leaving Thor calling after him.

Loki spends the rest of his day in his father’s court, fully aware that Thor only makes his way there when he absolutely has to. Observing the ebb and flow of the nobles and Councilors usually serves as one of Loki’s favorite pasttimes, but he can’t seem to concentrate, mind drawn back to what he and Thor left unfinished in the baths as he fidgets in his seat. The only balm for his frustration is that he left Thor in a similarly unfinished state, and when his brother finally makes his entrance later in the day, Loki is viciously happy to find him looking as dissatisfied as Loki feels.

Denying Thor when he demands for Loki to follow him in a low voice is even more gratifying. His brother’s eyes narrow as he realizes his usual tactics of manhandling Loki until he’s gotten his way can’t be employed in front of the assembled Asgardian nobility and the eyes of the Allfather. He has to settle for shooting increasingly frustrated glares at Loki, who smiles sweetly in response. The game has started to amuse him even as his ire at Thor’s reckless pushiness begins to fade.

He manages to evade Thor after the Allfather calls the day at court to an end and only resurfaces to take dinner with their parents, both pleasantly surprised at being joined by both their sons for their private nightly meal. Loki is exceedingly polite throughout, making idle conversation with his mother and father like there’s nothing on his mind at all, ignoring the thunder in his brother’s eyes when their gazes meet across the table.

There are only so many places for Loki to keep company, however, and after a thorough visit to his recently favorite section within the libraries, he returns to his chambers, fully aware of what’s waiting for him. Thor pounces as soon as the doors fall shut behind him and even though he anticipated it, Loki barely manages to duck from his grasp and put one of his desks between them. Heart beating faster and faster in his chest, Loki raises a hand, as if he might have any hope of keeping his brother at bay with reason at this point.

Anyone who looked at Thor could tell that his brother is far beyond reason now. Thor’s eyes are nearly black with desire, pupils blown until his iris is nothing but a faint ring of blue around their darkness. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, breaths too loud in the otherwise silent room. His fists keep clenching helplessly, like they’re already anticipating having Loki in their grasp. Loki doesn’t think he’s seen ever seen Thor this unraveled, and the sight thrills him, prevents any other attempts at escape as Thor heaves the desk away and snatches him up, flinging Loki onto his bed without hesitation.

That night is different than any of the others they’ve spent together, and Loki hadn’t thought it possible for things to improve even further in that regard. Thor is ravenous for him, almost incoherent in his need. Loki gives him everything he asks for without so many words, more than glad to reap the benefits of Thor’s relentless determination. And afterwards, when they’ve both come to a much more gratifying conclusion than during their earlier dalliance in the baths, Loki cradles Thor’s sleeping head to his chest as he studies the ceiling. And remembers.


Loki is a diligent student of probability. As such, he knows that two incidents don’t provide sufficient proof for causality, no matter how damning the occurrences may appear. Further confirmation is direly needed to arrive at any verifiable hypothesis. And so Loki sets out to gather evidence.

He never conjures another situation to the degree of what happened between them that day, lest Thor catch on to his suspicions and bury the matter entirely. But he creates different scenarios, little things that allow him to observe his brother’s reaction. After training one day he aims a playful strike at Thor’s side when he’s turned his back on Loki, dancing just out of his reach a couple of times when Thor tries to retaliate before allowing himself to be caught. He steals the apple Thor has set aside for himself during their time studying in the library together, tossing it from hand to hand as he retreats, carefully watching his brother’s face as he comes after him. He dares Thor to numerous races, on foot and on horseback, and makes sure to get a head start each time.

The outcome is always the same: Thor becomes flustered, tongue-tied, eyes bright with unspoken want. For whatever reason this particular desire of his doesn’t appear to be something Thor is able to talk about or even acknowledge in Loki’s presence. Since his brother has never had any issues expressing exactly what it is he wants from Loki, the entire affair baffles Loki, Thor’s obvious embarrassment a novelty he turns over in his head like a puzzle without a satisfying conclusion.

More than once he thinks of leveraging it against Thor, this one thing he may hold over his head and receive nothing but shame in turn. It’s tempting at times, the sickening envy Loki doesn’t seem to be able to stop growing in his heart urging him to drag Thor into the shade with him if Loki can’t climb into the sun. But he never does; instead, he keeps this part of his brother to himself, tucked away from anyone else, even Thor. And the day he comes across the story of Nimoa, Loki knows why he kept it a secret after all. He’s been waiting.


Thor agrees readily enough when Loki asks him to accompany him on his journey. The prospect of a good hunt and Loki’s company at night quickly dispels any hesitation even though Thor knows better than anyone that Loki likes to be by himself when he goes searching for rare ingredients for one of his spells. Perhaps he’s a little suspicious upon spying the very rustic tavern Loki has located for them, but when Loki makes apologies for the lack of comfort, naming the remoteness of their destination to be the cause for his choice, Thor waves away any concerns.

And when they’ve retired to their room and Loki slides into his lap, any possible questions melt away in the heat between them, Thor happily divesting them both of their clothes as he takes Loki to bed. Allowing things to progress without losing his head is as difficult as Loki anticipated, his plans and reason fading into the heady fog of desire once he’s sunk himself onto Thor’s cock, the temptation to ride the thick drag of it to completion almost too strong to resist.

The spell, when he casts it, is therefore strong with desperation and intent. The force of it knocks Thor backwards as he glances in surprised but pleased confusion to the magical threads that restrain his wrists and ankles against the iron posts of their bed. He raises an eyebrow at Loki, shifting his hips to test how much leverage this position still allows. “You’ll have to do most of the work now, brother.”

Again, it’s tempting. Abandon his scheme, leave things as they are and simply take them both over the edge into their pleasure. Spend the rest of their stay in bed, away from everything. But Loki has never been able to leave well enough alone and this is for Thor’s benefit more than his, after all.

Thor’s surprise becomes puzzlement as Loki sets both hands on his chest, gaining enough leverage to slide himself off his cock, his own jerking at the loss, desperate in its need for attention. Loki ignores it along with Thor’s frown as he rolls off the bed with knees that feel too weak to hold him at first, wincing at the cold floor beneath his feet. Loki makes certain to provide his brother an excellent view as he hurries to pick up the clothes they threw off in their haste earlier. Judging from the sharp exhale that carries as much frustration as it does appreciation, he succeeds.

Thor’s voice is heavy with impending anger when he speaks. “What is this, Loki?”

Casting his gaze about the room, Loki frowns. “Have you seen my- nevermind, there it is.”


Loki finally turns and smiles at Thor as he fastens up his tunic. “Yes, brother?”

“Undo the spell,” Thor commands, still displaying remarkable restraint. Loki expected him to devolve to shouting by now and has already cast silencing spells to prevent the other patrons from rushing in in concern.

“They’ll come undone in a few hours,” Loki tells him, picking up the sheet and throwing it over Thor to cover him to the chest. Seeing that the interlude has done nothing to flag his brother’s arousal, just like Loki’s own is reluctant to dissipate, fans the heated ache at the base of his spine. “I suggest you get comfortable in the meantime.”

“You told me we came for a hunt,” Thor says, the accusation thick with anger. “You lied to me.”

“I embellished,” Loki says, waving a dismissive hand. “I never actually lied. We’re here to hunt. You are, that is.”


“A few miles to the East within the forest you’ll find the entrance to the ruins of a maze. Its legend has become nearly forgotten, but there are still some accounts of how the Nimoans used to worship the creature they believed lived within its confines. Every seventh year they would send a young maiden into the maze to be hunted and sacrificed to the creature’s…wiles.”

Here Loki pauses, giving Thor a sly smile. “In all likelihood, just a superstition, but you never know. Just to be certain, I suggest you find me first.”

Sauntering to Thor’s side, Loki notes with no small amount of thrill that Thor’s rage has become infused with something else now, something silent and incredibly dark as Thor’s eyes roam over Loki. For a moment that look almost has him retreat. Silly really. These restraints would keep three men of Thor’s strength. Chiding himself not to back down now when he’s so close to seeing his plan to come to fruition, Loki closes the distance and presses a swift kiss to Thor’s lips.

“Happy hunting, brother.”


Loki’s nagging concerns regarding the accuracy of the century old accounts he perused are dispelled as soon as he steps through the weathered pillars of its entrance. The stone walls are in much better condition than he feared, rising several feet above Loki’s head even where they’re crumbling in parts. Everything has become overgrown by weeds and trees; more than once, the forest has retaken what the Nimoans once claimed for themselves, and Loki must turn back and take another path.

The effect is extremely eerie, the few shafts of light that manage to make it past the overhead trees dim and green, every surrounding sound being swallowed by the thick moss-covered stone. As he pushes further into the maze, Loki begins to understand the tales he read, many of them claiming the maze to be haunted by the souls of the sacrificed maidens. The wind whispers strangely through the stone and forest, and the high walls throw long, spindly shadows.

He comes across the remains of a few unfortunates, their bones strewn apart and already becoming part of the surrounding earth. Even though logic dictates that they most likely succumbed to the lack of food or water as they failed to find their way out of the maze, the discovery sends a prickle of unease down Loki’s spine. Whispering a locating spell, he watches the emerging lines of his surroundings in his palm, his pulse fading from a rapid thrum to a more measured pace as he reassures himself that he knows exactly where he is.

He can’t help but think of the legend, the young maidens being sent wearing nothing but a ceremonial shift, treading the maze barefooted and in constant fear of the supposed creature. The tales never mentioned whether they were allowed to return after the creature satisfied its urges. He hopes they did. The idea of so many finding their end within these walls seems more unsettling now that he’s walking the same paths they did than when he was reading about them back in the safety of the libraries on Asgard.

Loki glances up at the sky, tries to gauge how much time has passed by the fading light above. He estimates it’s been long enough for Thor to come after him.

If he’s coming.

That uncomfortable image keeps returning to him as he advances along winding paths. Thor may have simply packed up and left once Loki’s spell faded and set him free, his anger at Loki’s deception taking him back to Asgard instead of into pursuit.

Perhaps Loki went too far this time, although he’s certain no other course of action would have brought them here otherwise. Something tells him that simply confronting Thor with the truth would have gained him nothing but further retreat and embarrassment on his brother’s part. As he settles down for the night beneath the shelter of a fallen pillar, drawing wards and disguises around his makeshift camp, Loki forcibly dismisses his doubts. After all, his brother rarely disappoints him.


On the second day, when he’s almost ready to admit defeat and call upon his seiðr to lead him out of the increasingly convoluted maze, Loki comes across a recently abandoned campsite. At the sight of the neat stack of firewood, Loki’s heart leaps into his throat and he utters a spell of concealment, the instinct to hide strong and immediate. Seeing where Thor’s tracks lead isn’t hard, his brother making no effort to disguise his path. That much makes sense. Thor isn’t the one being hunted, after all--Loki is.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine. When he decided to indulge this desire of Thor’s his mind was mostly on his brother’s pleasure, not his own. But now that he’s got proof Thor is after him, the fire Loki brutally smothered back in the tavern roars to life with a vengeance, its heated tendrils making his blood sing. He turns on his heel and heads back into the direction he came from, drawing runes to drop the disguise that’s allowed him to fade into the background of his surroundings. Never let it be said that he didn’t make this a fair contest.

In the following days, Loki employs all of his considerable skill to hide his own tracks within the maze. He lays false trails to set Thor off in one direction while Loki pursues another, leaves little clues that amount to nothing more than a smoke screen and even scales the walls to climb down on the other side, allowing his steps to fade into nothingness. There are several close calls when he hears Thor in the distance, and even though Loki manages to evade him every time, it sends a rush of anticipation through him. Knowing Thor is on his tail without ever laying eyes on him stokes a nervous excitement he finds hard to shake.

It makes it difficult to stick to his plan, but Loki has ever thrived in the face of adversity. By the fourth day, he’s almost made his way to what his orientation spells tell him is the innermost part of the maze. If Loki’s sources are to be believed, there lies a temple within, the place where according to legend the creature would carry off its sacrifices. It’s the perfect setting for the culmination of their game. Thor will eventually find his way there and Loki will be waiting for him, perched upon the altar, all too glad to allow himself to be claimed by his pursuer. Nothing can go wrong really.

There’s only one flaw in his plan.

Thor is an exceptional hunter.


When it happens, the shadows have begun to creep along the walls in a way that Loki by now recognizes as the first harbingers of dusk. He’s idly wondering whether he’ll be fortunate enough to find another crack in the maze walls that will provide him with natural shelter during the night, when he turns a corner and finds Thor waiting on the path ahead of him, only a few dozen feet of distance between them.

Loki freezes, mind shockingly blank as he stares at Thor. Less than a week has passed since he left his brother behind bound and angered, but the sight of him jolts Loki to the core, steals his air away as he tries to make sense of how this happened. With his hair tied back and his usual armor exchanged for leathers, Thor doesn’t look much different from the way he does on every hunt they’ve ever been on. Yet looking at him sends every nerve in Loki’s body screaming, an ancient, instinctive response to the expression on his brother’s face, the sharp gaze honed in on Loki. Appraising him. Like prey.

Thor smiles and it does nothing to alleviate the darkness lurking in his eyes. “Hello, brother.”

Loki runs.

A dozen possible reactions – use his seiðr, laugh it off, give in and allow Thor his victory – simply disappear, seeping from the fraught grasp of Loki’s rationality like water through desperate fingers. There’s nothing except the frantic, heated urge to flee, not on a controlled path that might take them where Loki intended this game to end up but blindly, crashing through the overgrown corridors of the maze with Thor right on his heels.

Loki doesn’t dare look back.

He’s still faster than his brother, but Thor took him by surprise and Loki’s lost his way, every corner he turns a potential dead end that would deliver him right into Thor’s arms. Distantly, the small part of him that hasn’t been swept up in the wild panic coursing through him like a river reminds Loki that being claimed was always the intended outcome. The entire purpose to this endeavor was to unleash the dormant savagery his brother isn’t otherwise capable of, and the thick, hot singing of his blood doesn’t exactly object to the idea. None of that matters anymore as Loki runs and runs and runs, ricocheting off walls and leaping over crumbling stones, an instinct driving him forward that goes deeper than the common sense their species developed later on.

This is primal, the urge to escape a predator propelling him until his legs feel hot with the strain, his head strangely light as he makes split second decisions, diving into corridors and choosing paths at random. Once he realizes that he can’t hear Thor behind him anymore, it’s already too late. Loki only has a spare moment to put everything together, but in his adrenaline fueled state it feels like an eternity. Thor never lost sight of him. Even with Loki gaining distance on him, he couldn’t have been more than ten paces behind. Thor isn’t behind him anymore, which means his brother knows exactly where this path leads and veered off somewhere to intercept Loki’s course. He’s been led into a trap.

It’s the last thing on his mind before Thor slams into him, driving the air from Loki’s lungs as they hit the ground, rolling in a mad jumble of limbs, Thor’s arms like iron bands around him. This is the moment to give in, what he went to all this trouble for. Yet for some reason Loki can’t quell the urges that have seized him completely and despite his exhaustion, he struggles, the need to flee drowning out everything else. Of course it doesn’t matter anymore, Thor’s strength far outmatching Loki’s own. Loki is exhausted, bruised from the impact and scratched from the thick brambles all over. He’s also harder than he can ever remember being in his life, the swell of his cock pushing uncomfortably against his breeches.

No more than a few heartbeat pass before he’s assured of his brother’s similar state, the heavy curve of Thor’s cock pushing against him as he drags Loki backwards. Fingers scrabbling uselessly in the thick moss, trying and failing to gain enough purchase to get away, Loki finally stills when Thor sinks his teeth into the curve of his throat, a warning seen and heeded. It becomes a kiss when Thor realizes Loki has ceased squirming, the roughness of his beard scraping the abused skin in the most delicious way.

They’re both trembling, Loki notes through the thick haze that has taken hold of him, desire burning so white-hot that Loki’s first instinct is to shy away from it. He tries to slip a hand beneath himself to squeeze at his desperate cock but Thor growls into his ear, forces his head down with a calloused palm and Loki has to catch himself on his hands in order not to taste grass. He can’t help the half-bitten sob when Thor rips his breeches down, the cool air like a balm to the aching fullness of his balls. Thor gives them a tug as if he’s sensed Loki’s thoughts, cradles them in his palm like he’s gauging their weight, how much Loki has waited for this.

The image leaves him breathless and needy, pushing back against Thor just to get a brush of that perfect hard cock against his ass. He whines when Thor digs his thumbs into the soft crease where his rear meets his thighs, keeping Loki right where he wants him. Loki barely has time to think that Thor’s ambush left him unprepared, that for the life of him he can’t remember the appropriate spells he’d otherwise be able to recite in his sleep, because Thor is baring him further, prying him apart every which way, and then his mouth is there and anything left of Loki’s mind gets swept away by the first brush of his tongue.

Loki doesn’t let him do this very much. It makes him feel exposed in ways he can’t explain, and of course Thor craves it for that very reason, eager to take him apart with nothing but his mouth and the soft bristle of his beard against tender skin. Thor isn’t asking for permission this time and when Loki tries to squirm away, a hand comes down on his ass, the smack quick and sharp, shocking a gasp from Loki. Even more surprising than the reprimand is his reaction, cock jerking with the sting of it, straining against his belly.

He doesn’t put up any further resistance, even when Thor’s ministrations make him want to crawl out of his skin to escape the force of his desire, burying his flushed face in the fold of his arms. Thor’s keeps his ass high in the air by the grip on his thighs, tongue slipping into Loki over and over again, relentless in his determination. He licks Loki sloppy and wet until he’s prepared to his satisfaction and when he finally eases himself away, he bestows another firm slap onto his ass. The treatment is maddening and Loki would protest it, he really would, except his throat is dry with the thickness of his desperation, the only thing he can concentrate on the prospect of finally getting what he’s been waiting for for days.

Thor gives it to him. Perhaps his own need is too great to tease, because there is no pause as he spits into his hand and pushes the thick head of his cock against Loki, both of them gasping as he slides himself inside. It’s too much. No matter how many times Loki has taken him before, right then it feels impossible, ridiculous, the increasing fullness making him claw at the ground until his fingers hurt. There’s no escaping it, Thor sinking inch after inch into him slowly but without pause, stilling only for a moment when he’s filled Loki to the brim before he starts to fuck him in earnest.

If Thor possessed any more restraint he abandons it then, his hitched breaths becoming growls as he mounts Loki like they’re beasts, rutting into him at a brutal pace. It’s ruthless and fierce and Loki loves every second of it, cock slapping wetly against his stomach with every push inside. Any attempt to match the movement of his hips to Thor’s is met with another slap and since Loki can’t help but push back against those hard thrusts his ass is soon stinging, skin heated and flushed with the constant attention of Thor’s heavy palm.

Neither of them lasts long, Loki painting the ground beneath and Thor spilling into him with another hard thrust, spearing him to the hilt. Loki is so busy with trying to pull enough pieces of himself together to form a coherent thought afterwards that he doesn’t immediately notice Thor hasn’t lost a bit of his hardness. Only when Thor shifts his knees and the heavy curve of it slips out of Loki a few inches, making him hiss and curse, does reality start coming back to him. A wonderful dread blooms in his chest and he uses shaking arms to raise himself onto his hands and knees, seeking more leverage as he tries to summon his voice speak.


The hand on the back of his neck is expected but no less infuriating for it, pushing Loki face first into the sweet-smelling grass with a possessiveness that borders on casual. Loki opens his mouth for what he knows with be a futile protest and snaps it shut again, cheeks flushing when Thor delivers another slap to his tender skin. His cock twitches in a valiant attempt to rise to the occasion and his ass clenches around the thick stretch of his brother. Thor’s voice is coarse, barely above a growl, as he pushes himself back all the way inside.

“I caught you, brother. You’re mine until I say otherwise, so we’re doing this my way.”

Ridiculous. Loki wants to tell him but for some reason his entire body has grown even more heated with the words, his cock finally winning the battle against Loki’s refractory period, brushing wetly against the trembling muscles of his stomach. And when Thor picks up his rhythm again there’s nothing to do but plant his shaking knees and keep his ass up high like Thor wants him to, letting his brother fuck him as they both need, vicious and deep and again and again and again.

The sun has long set by the time Thor finally relents and Loki has lost count of how many times each of them found their release. His brother takes Loki with him when he rolls onto his back, which is fortunate, since Loki doesn’t think his limbs are moving in any way he wants them to right now. Thor’s chest isn’t as soft as the moss-covered ground, but Loki gets to slide his hand underneath the tunic Thor is still wearing, stroking at the damp skin there. The ache in his thighs when he finally relaxes makes Loki wince and then suck in a breath when Thor’s rough hands run down his back, fingers kneading the strained muscles. Loki hums into the crook of Thor’s neck contentedly, even lets his chin be tipped up for a thorough kiss, the first they’ve shared in nearly a week.

“Are you alright?”

The question is so unforeseen it startles a laugh out of Loki and once he’s started he finds that he’s not able to stop, the absurdity of the situation overtaking him. His laughter sets Thor off as well and soon they’re both struggling to breathe, any time their eyes meet inciting another wave of mirth. When they finally get a hold of themselves Loki’s stomach is aching along with his thighs and he groans, resting his forehead against the worn leather of Thor’s jerkin. One of Thor’s hand strokes its way up Loki’s thigh and then the coarse pads of two of his fingers rub where Loki is sore and leaking, making him hiss softly.

Thor’s voice is a coarse rumble against his hair. “Truly, are you well?”

There’s no way to mistake what he’s enquiring about. Loki deliberately chooses a light tone when he speaks.

“I think I left half my skin back on those brambles, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Thor doesn’t say anything, and his expression is conflicted when Loki props his chin onto his brother’s chest to look at him. Irritation sparks bright and unwelcome at the sight. It’s just like Thor to ruin this with misguided feelings of guilt and self-admonishment. Pushing himself up on one elbow until he can glare down at his brother’s handsome, infuriating face, Loki shakes an errant curl out of his eyes with an annoyed flick of his head.

“It was my idea. I planned this.”

“You did it for my sake,” Thor says softly, raising one hand cradle Loki’s neck.

Irritation grows into fury then and Loki narrows his eyes, words escaping before he can think them through. “I liked it, you fool. You may take your castigations to someone who is inclined to listen, but don’t bring them to me. I’m not sorry for a single part of it.”

To his surprise, the grin spreading slowly on Thor’s face is smug instead of chastened and Loki realizes with a jolt that he’s been goaded into revealing more of the truth than he perhaps planned too. Thor’s fingertips rub at his sore entrance and he chuckles softly when Loki bites his lip.

“That’s what I thought.”

The words combined with the proprietary gesture are sufficient cause to make Loki want to squirm away, somewhere he’s not quite this exposed. Thor won’t let him of course, slipping two fingers back into Loki and crooking them, pressing right into his sweet spot. His tone has become coaxing when he speaks again and Norns, Loki knows he’s in trouble when he sees his brother this determined.

“What else did you have planned?”

Loki only hums, thoroughly distracted by the rough slide of Thor’s fingers. Thor won’t let it go though, and stops moving his hand until Loki whines against his jaw. “I caught you by surprise. How much further were you planning on leading us through the maze?”

Hoping an answer will finally get Thor back to rubbing against that spot inside him, Loki nearly trips over his tongue in his haste to answer. “Not far. There’s a temple at the center, I wanted to take you there.”

Much to his displeasure, Thor slips out his fingers entirely, paying Loki’s answering whine no regard. “I came across that temple. The altar is still there. Were you looking to make yourself a sacrifice, brother?”

“It’s what they did in the legend,” Loki says primly, knowing his demeanor is too close to pouting for Thor not to notice.

The quirk of Thor’s mouth only confirms. “You do like your stories.”

A noise of displeasure escapes Loki when Thor eases himself out from under him, leaving him on his back in the grass as he gets to his feet, pulling on the breeches he abandoned much earlier. He holds out both hands to Loki. “Alright, let’s go.”

Loki gives him a look of disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”

“To the altar,” Thor says.

“If you think I’m-“

That’s about as far as Loki gets before Thor picks him up and slings him over his shoulder, the movement shocking Loki into silence for a few seconds until he finds his voice again. “Put. Me. Down.”

“You can’t walk that far in your condition,” Thor says reasonably. His stride jostles Loki over his shoulder like he’s slain prey, to be carried off at the hunter’s pleasure. Loki punches Thor’s shoulder and gets a stinging slap to his bare ass for his troubles, Thor hefting him up further as he continues walking. It’s humiliating and outrageous and there is absolutely no reason for Loki’s cock to swell further at the callous treatment. He ought to struggle, at least protest to preserve just some small part of this dignity, but somehow he doesn’t, the spell of the situation ensconcing him firmly in its web.

The journey to the temple feels like an eternity, even as the more rational part of Loki’s mind tells him that it can’t have been more than half an hour when the smoothness of Thor’s gait is disrupted. Loki looks up to see him descending the steps to an area surrounded by crumbling pillars, the huge dais at its center leaving no doubt as to where they are.

Unlike every other part of the maze the temple hasn’t become overgrown, and the lack of trees allows the moonlight to paint every part of the crumbling stones in stark shades. Nothing stirs as Thor makes his way to the dais, as if even the critters avoid this place, recognizing what Loki feels with every step his brother takes. The temple is alive in its own way, its rudimentary seiðr waking to their presence, reaching for them with greedy hands. They’re being welcomed.

The altar is nothing more than a slab of stone that rises just a little above Loki’s waist and he only needs one glance at it to know exactly what Thor plans to do. Thankfully, his brother has enough presence of mind to cover the rough stone surface, setting Loki on his feet to strip of his clothes, indicating for Loki to do the same with the tunic he’s still wearing. Loki only has a moment to think back on his own pair of breeches, which are undoubtedly still back where Thor ripped them off his legs, before a heavy palm lands between his shoulder blades, pushing him down until he’s bent face-first over the altar.

Loki bites his tongue when Thor kicks his feet further apart and steps up behind Loki, rubbing the thick length of his cock against his ass. He knows exactly what Thor is after and desperately tells himself not to give it to him, his resolution rapidly fading with the teasing, wet press of the head of his brother’s cock against his entrance. The rough stone of the altar against his cheek has grown strangely warm and Loki doesn’t think he imagines the wordless whisper sinking into his mind with petal-soft insistence.

Give in.

Loki closes his eyes, licks the blood from his stinging lips. “Please.”

Thor seats himself with one long thrust, Loki trying to squirm away from the sensation, too sore for the rough friction of it even as his cock strains at the sensation, hanging heavy between his legs. This time he can’t control the sob when Thor brings his hand down heavily for another few slaps, shivering as his brother traces the shape of them on the already tender skin of Loki’s ass. Thor’s voice has become contemplating, and the small part of Loki that isn’t utterly occupied with the thick stretch of the cock spearing him grows alarmed at the idea.

“You’ve been holding out on me, brother.”

Loki swallows thickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” Thor says fondly and damn him, he’s not moving, not giving Loki any of the things he needs to forget this conversation is even happening.

“You favor this,” Thor states and delivers a stinging slap before Loki may feign ignorance again. “You could have told me.”

“I’m not-“ Loki begins and then breaks off because Thor has slipped one hand beneath him, finger tracing feather-light up Loki’s cock, swiping at the wetness of its head. He encircles him loosely with just his thumb and forefinger as he spanks the aching, heated curve of his ass, laughing softly when Loki jerks in his hand.

“You could spend just like this, couldn’t you?” Thor asks, sounding riveted and Loki drops his head at the idea: Thor buried to the hilt and not moving at all except for the hiding he’d be giving out with those perfect, broad palms. His whimper can’t be mistaken for anything but agreement and Thor twitches inside him in response, his brother plastering himself to his back to whisper hoarsely in Loki’s ear, hips already starting to draw back and thrust.

“When we’re back home, I promise. I’ll give you anything you want then, brother.”

Like you’ve given me this.

Thor doesn’t say it, knows perhaps that expressing his gratitude out loud would ruin it. He simply goes back to taking Loki apart by the seams, fucking him until they’re both unable to hold on any longer, trembling against each other as Thor spills himself inside him and Loki spends messily all over his thighs and stomach. He’s glad for the solid presence of the altar underneath him, legs too shaky to hold him up on their own. His entire body feels overworked and sore, and he doesn’t resist when Thor pulls out and turns him over, the warmth trickling down his ass and thighs nothing but a distant annoyance as he comes to rest on the altar.

Loki hasn’t even noticed his eyes have slipped shut until he opens them again in apprehension as his legs get lifted, Thor resting them over his shoulders as he steps closer. His cock, still inexplicably and terrifyingly hard, slides halfway inside Loki as he gasps, every single nerve firing desperately with the aching stretch. Loki can’t. There’s absolutely no way. He pushes at Thor’s chest, his brother catching his hands in his and kissing his knuckles tenderly even as he sinks himself all the way into Loki again.

“I’m not done with you, brother.”

“Thor, enough,” Loki pleads. He almost doesn’t recognize his voice with how wrecked it is.

Thor pays him no mind, pinning Loki’s wrists to the rough stone next to his head as he bends over him, fucking into him at a leisurely but no less punishing pace. “Didn’t you pay attention to the legend, brother? The sacrifice always lasted until dawn.”

Loki shakes his head desperately, even as his cock begins to stir and rise at the slick slide of Thor inside him. “You can’t.”

Thor kisses his mouth then, nudges Loki’s nose gently with his own until he’s looking at the pillars to the East of the temple. “Watch for the sunrise, brother. And pray to the Norns it comes quickly.”