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The first time he meets Loki, Thor stands barely taller than his father’s hip. Odin holds Thor’s hand, the press of his palm warm and firm, and murmurs that Thor must be polite when he introduces himself to Prince Loki. It is Thor’s first visit to Jotunheim, where it is rather strange and very cold, but it is an important visit, Odin had said. It is time for Thor to be introduced to King Laufey and his family, for one day Thor too will be required to attend negotiations just as his father does to help maintain the fragile peace between the realms.

If Thor thought his own father to be tall and imposing, it is nothing compared to Loki’s. Loki is barely taller than Thor is, so far as Thor can tell, but Laufey — who was polite but also rather stern when Thor met him earlier — towers over all of them by several feet. For a giant, Loki isn’t very giant at all.

Nevertheless, Thor is captivated: like the rest of his people, Loki’s skin is a pale shade of blue and covered in intriguing markings the likes of which Thor has never seen on anyone back home in Asgard. His gleaming dark hair is even longer than Thor’s is, and braided very intricately.

“Hello,” Thor says brightly. He drops his father’s hand to bow the way he was taught to, and only wobbles a little bit. “I am Thor.”

“I’m Loki. Where are your teeth?” Loki asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Loki,” Laufey says flatly, stood off to one side and watching with an air of boredom. Loki pretends not to hear.

Thor grins and runs his tongue over the gap where his front teeth should be. “Oh, they fell out. I’ll get new ones soon.”

“That’s weird,” Loki laughs, apparently delighted by all things strange.

“Thor, come,” says Odin; their visit is now complete, and there is much to attend to in Asgard. “Laufey,” Odin adds stiffly, and Laufey answers with a terse nod.

“Father, can’t I stay and play with Loki?” Thor asks as Odin leads him away.

He makes his eyes big and pouts his bottom lip just a little bit for good measure. Unfortunately, his father isn’t looking, tugging Thor along behind him as they make their way outside to call for the Bifrost.

“I’ll not have any son of mine befriending a Laufeyson,” Odin grumbles. “You can play with your friends at home.”

Thor scowls. His father and Laufey have hated one another since forever, that much Thor knows, but he’s never really been able to see quite what all the fuss is about. Laufey doesn’t smile very much and Thor thinks he’s actually a little bit scary and maybe a bit mean, so perhaps his father is right, but Loki didn’t seem scary at all. He seemed fun and probably nice.

Thor looks back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one more glimpse of Loki before they leave. Loki, still standing where they left him, looks at Thor with an expression of pure mischief and sticks out his tongue before turning to hurry after his father.

Thor hides his giggles behind his hand and heads back to Asgard smiling.

*

“Father, must I?” Loki complains, but it is already settled. The things Loki could be doing with his day are many and varied, but instead — at his father’s behest — he must sit and observe at least some portion of the annual negotiations held between the royal councils of Jotunheim and Asgard, despite it being some years yet until he comes of age and begins attending the meetings properly.

To sit for several hours alongside his father’s advisors whilst Laufey and Odin make snide remarks at one another sounds unbearably tedious. Frankly, spending the day doing his homework would be more enjoyable.

“Odin suggested that his son, Thor, attend so he might learn more about the matters we discuss. As you and he are the same age, I thought it might be helpful if you did the same.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Loki relents under his breath, though he is somewhat heartened by the knowledge that Thor will also be attending.

A number of years have passed since their first meeting, and there is every chance Thor has turned out to be as big a bore as his father is in the interim, but Thor had at least seemed friendly the last time they met. Having someone his own age attending offers Loki some small hope he might not perish from sheer boredom.

When Loki is escorted to the meeting room some time later, Odin and Thor are already present. They exchange polite greetings as Loki takes his seat, but Laufey then gives Loki a warning look that strongly implies he ought to keep quiet and at least attempt to behave himself.

Loki tries, truly, but an hour into the discussions he is so bored and restless that he decides he must take matters into his own hands. Thor is sitting up straight with a most earnest expression, clearly attempting to take it all in despite having no idea what anyone is talking about, and Loki only feels a little bit bad at what he is about to do.

Conjuring a piece of paper and a pencil, he furtively scribbles a note on his lap and slides it over to Thor.

Look under the table

Thor frowns in confusion, then peers at his feet as instructed.

“Norns,” he whispers, wide-eyed.

Loki can barely contain his anticipation at the thought of the chaos that’s about to occur. He’s more than a bit surprised when Thor merely gestures excitedly for Loki to hand over the pencil and adds to the note before returning it.

Cool snake!!! :)

Loki gives him a baffled look and quickly adds more to his note whilst Thor continues sneaking curious glances under the table.

You like snakes? Also it isn’t real I used magic

Thor’s smudged and barely-legible reply comes promptly.

Wooooow! That’s amazing Loki. And yes I like them very much

The meeting is far more interesting after that. Laufey, Odin and their respective councils are far too engrossed in deliberation to notice Loki and Thor’s back-and-forth note passing, and together they fill whole pages with words by the time the discussions come to an end.

“Did you learn much of use today, Loki?” Laufey asks him over dinner that night.

“Oh, yes,” Loki says truthfully.

He learned that Thor likes space and riding horses and learning about weapons, as well as his admiration for snakes and magic. As for what is discussed at the Jotnar-Aesir council meetings, Loki hasn’t the faintest idea, but he knows that Thor’s favourite colours are red and green and that he has a hammer called Mjolnir he will one day take into battle, and Loki thinks these things are of far greater importance than anything else he could possibly have been taught, regardless of what anyone else might think.

*

Perhaps, Thor realises some time later, he should not have been quite so enthusiastic in his assessment of the negotiations following their last visit to Jotunheim. It is deemed a sound educational experience and Odin thus informs Laufey that Thor will observe every year for his benefit, until such time as he can sit upon the council in his own right.

He will be sure to enjoy it very much, Odin tells him with pride, since he found it so interesting the last time. Thor refrains from face-pulling, but only just, and fixes a smile upon his face at this news. His father claps a fond hand upon his shoulder.

When the day of their visit draws close, curiosity finally gets the better of Thor.

“Father, will Loki be there?” he asks nonchalantly. “At the negotiations?”

Odin turns to him with a frown. “I wouldn’t know,” he says brusquely. “But if he is, I don’t want you listening to a word he says, do you hear me? He’s not to be trusted, just like his father.”

As it happens, Loki is indeed in attendance. Thor spends an enjoyable couple of hours trading notes with him just as they had the last time, until Loki is unceremoniously kicked out for turning everyone’s hair vivid rainbow colours and snorting with laughter at the fury this garners.

“What did I say?” Odin remarks afterward, his formerly-green hair now almost back to its usual pale shade. It is a shame; Thor was rather fond of the red Loki had given him, which had matched his cloak perfectly. “Do you think I want you around that boy when he behaves like that? I think not.”

Lost in thought, Thor barely hears him, already wondering what awaits them on their next visit. He cannot wait.

*

Still in disgrace, Loki is banned from attending the negotiations the next time they come around. This surprises no one, least of all Loki.

Nevertheless, the palace is quiet and terribly boring whilst the meetings are underway; Loki eventually makes his way down to the east wing so he might sneak glances into the meeting room, in case by some miracle something interesting actually occurs. He fights back laughter on catching sight of Thor, glassy-eyed with boredom and struggling to hide it.

Loki has almost given up on anything exciting happening and is about to return to his room when Thor timidly excuses himself over the hubbub of conversation to go and find a glass of water for himself. It’s a ruse to escape if Loki ever did hear one, but no one appears to care.

“Having fun?” Loki quips as Thor closes the door behind him with a soft sigh of relief.

For a moment Thor appears quite startled before breaking into the broadest of grins. Loki cannot recall the last time anyone ever looked so delighted to see him; it’s really quite disarming.

“Loki!” Thor exclaims. “I’m having no fun at all. Can’t you do something? I’d love to see more of your tricks.”

It’s awfully tempting: Loki has long been curious as to the exact number of frogs it would take to fully cover the floor of the meeting room, and now could be the time to find out.

“Er, best not,” Loki says after a moment of deliberation. Thor nods sympathetically. “I’m disappointed you think my talents are so limited, though. My magic goes far beyond mere tricks, Odinson.”

A little demonstration is in order, he decides. Of course, it is ruined — as many things are — by Loki’s older brother Helblindi, who emerges from the negotiations just as Loki is casually twirling a pair of conjured daggers that hold Thor duly captivated.

“Loki,” Helblindi tuts, smirking as he passes by. “Do stop showing off just because your, ah — friend is here.”

Loki whirls on him, livid, though Helblindi continues walking and pays him no mind. He can feel the force of his blush, cheeks burning.

“I’m not showing off,” he hisses, and is so utterly mortified that he storms away to sulk about it.

Perhaps he might, at some point, stick around long enough to bid Thor farewell before he returns to Asgard. On this occasion, Loki settles for lying face down upon his bed and drowning in woe.

There’s always next year.

*

Thor will never be certain, looking back on it, how Loki ever managed to convince Laufey that they should be allowed to briefly venture off together under the guise of Loki giving Thor an apparently much-needed tour of the palace.

In the library, they get into a heated quarrel over the relative benefits of magical prowess (perhaps the Aesir are just too stupid to harness their magic properly) and physical strength (maybe the Frost Giants, despite their size, are weak and must resort to their tricks) though the argument is soon forgotten when they decide to spar, each fascinated by the other and eager to show what they are capable of.

That’s also how the fire starts, somewhere between Loki’s magic and the lightning sparks Thor throws in retaliation. Loki’s abilities thankfully also enable them to put it out, and a swift bit of furniture rearranging covers the charred spot on the rug, though there’s little that can be done for the lingering smell of burning. Laughing, Loki grabs Thor by the hand and together they run to the furthest end of the corridor and around a corner where Loki tugs Thor into an alcove.

“And this window has the best view over the realm,” Loki says, smoothly concluding their tour as though none of the events of the last twenty minutes ever transpired.

“That it does,” Thor agrees. It feels as if they could be the only two beings for miles around, looking out at the glittering expanse of snow and frost-laden trees.

Thor is suddenly acutely aware of how close they’re standing, and the way Loki’s body is angled toward his. He has kissed exactly two people before now, and hopes that means he is sufficiently good enough at it to impress, because he suddenly wants with every fibre of his being for Loki to be the third.

“Um,” Thor says, swallowing. “Loki?”

“Yes?” Loki says.

Thor places a tentative hand against the side of Loki’s neck, his thumb brushing gently against his cheek. Loki’s eyes dart to Thor’s lips and he lets out the tiniest little breath of understanding, swaying in as Thor steps closer.

Loki,” Laufey bellows from the end of the corridor, forcing Thor and Loki to spring apart. “What in Hel’s name have you done to my library? Odin, please retrieve your foolish son.”

“Oh, shit,” Loki mutters, and takes off at a sprint in the opposite direction.

Thor stares after him, unsure quite what to do with himself. “Bye, Loki,” he says softly, and heaves a great sigh.

These visits to Jotunheim are shaping up to be many things, but dull they most certainly are not.

*

The next year, Loki is not only barred from observing the negotiations, but also banned from speaking to, sitting near or otherwise interacting with Thor in any way, no matter how much Loki tries to assure Laufey that he really doesn’t like Thor in the slightest (a lie) and yes, he quite agrees that he’s an empty-headed fool just as any son of Odin would surely have to be (another lie).

“I wish they’d let us sit together,” Thor whispers to Loki when their paths briefly cross, looking rather miserable about the whole affair.

“I do too,” Loki whispers back, possibly the first truth he’s spoken all day.

*

They’re kept apart the next year too. Just to be sure.

*

Beyond that, seeing as there’s only one more year left until Loki comes of age and automatically takes a seat upon his father’s council, Laufey reluctantly relents and allows Loki access so he might once again observe the proceedings. Despite all urges to the contrary, Loki takes it quite seriously, diligently taking notes and learning what he can.

He and Thor are positioned on opposing sides of the table, which does at least put some distance between them, but much to Loki’s frustration Thor looks so perfectly divine with his sun-kissed skin and ludicrous muscles that Loki is borderline furious about it. He does manage to ignore Thor for the most part, an impressive display of willpower if Loki does say so himself, but can feel Thor’s gaze fall upon him from time to time and has to fight the impulse to make eye contact.

When little is left of the meeting Loki decides that enough is enough, and thinks he owes it to himself to have at least a little fun at Thor’s expense. He starts subtly, just testing the waters; bites at his bottom lip under the guise of concentration and runs his fingers through the loose waves of his hair, glancing to Thor as he does so. Sucks at the end of his pen — not so subtle but highly effective — and allows the fur he wears draped about his shoulders to dip pleasingly in order to show the cut of his collarbones.

Thor stares at him, his cheeks flushing pink when he catches Loki’s eye, but he doesn’t pretend otherwise nor make any effort to look away. Oh, but it is so much better than Loki could have imagined; he’d been hoping to gain his attention, maybe fluster him a tad, but the fact that Thor knows full well he’s been caught and merely gives him a sheepish, amused little smile and continues to stare anyway — actually drags his gaze slowly over Loki from head to toe like he can’t quite help himself — is so much hotter than it has any right to be.

Loki decides to keep up his little show until either the meeting comes to an end or Thor combusts in his chair, whichever comes first. Judging by the way Thor’s eyes darken with intent, the rosy colour in his cheeks creeping enticingly down his neck, Loki’s bet is on the latter.

When the meeting finally does come to a conclusion, Loki lingers behind whilst the council members file out, ostensibly sorting through his notes. Thor remains seated also, his sights firmly fixed on Loki as he leans back in his chair with a maddening smirk.

“I do imagine,” Loki says when they’re finally alone, nonchalantly examining his fingernails, “that you’re really fucking hard right now.”

Thor still looks at him with that infuriating smile upon his face. “Do you spend a lot of time thinking about my cock, Loki?”

Loki thinks on it for a moment, keeping his expression carefully neutral despite the over-eager thrumming of his pulse. “Only a little,” he says archly.

Slipping a hand inside his breeches, Thor brazenly adjusts himself; it is a sight that is as unfairly hot as it is satisfying, for Loki was right. Nevertheless, not once does Thor appear anything less than immensely pleased with himself. He gets to his feet then, the legs of his chair scraping brusquely over the flagstones.

He remains silent as he heads for the door, pausing only when he reaches it. “There’s nothing little about it,” he informs Loki then, the rumble of his voice as damnably attractive as the rest of him, and leaves the room without so much as a backward glance.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, Loki finds himself in such a state of stunned, infuriated arousal that he remains in his seat long after Thor has gone. Having lost his nerve, he doesn’t seek Thor out again before he returns to Asgard, and thinks it may be some time before he can look Thor directly in the eye again.

Still, twelve months ought to do it.

*

The Jotnar-Aesir negotiations in their fullest extent actually take place over the course of two days and comprise a number of successive meetings. For the very first time, Thor must stay in Jotunheim for the full duration of Asgard’s visit, spending the night in one of the palace’s lavish guest rooms now that he is finally of age to be considered a full member of the royal council.

When Loki greets Thor it is as if their previous conversation never happened, their brief exchange of pleasantries painfully bland under the watchful eyes of others. Thor looks at Loki, infinitely curious, and thinks what now.

Loki, for all his troubled teenage history with the council meetings, is quite something to behold now that he finally has opportunity to speak his mind. He might not always be able to bring everyone onto the same page — given the long and bloodied history between Jotunheim and Asgard, Thor doubts anyone could — but when he speaks, even Odin listens, albeit begrudgingly. Loki is as confident as he is sharp-witted, a born diplomat who can guide the negotiations as he pleases and ease tensions before they escalate. Thor cannot decide whether he is astonished to see this new side of him, or not surprised in the least.

Come nightfall, Loki appears at Thor’s door with a self-satisfied smirk and a stolen bottle of wine, and Thor’s heart leaps to see him.

Laughing, Thor folds his arms and leans against the doorframe.

“I hardly think I should let you in,” Thor tells him. “I’ve been reliably informed that you’re a terrible influence.”

“Ah, then my reputation precedes me,” Loki says, brushing past him with an enigmatic smile. “Oh dear, there aren’t any chairs,” he adds, not even remotely troubled by the fact, and kicks off his boots so he can settle comfortably up on the bed with his long legs stretched out before him.

Thor takes a seat alongside him, leaning back against the headboard. Silently, Loki uncorks the wine and passes it straight to Thor. It really isn’t half bad, Thor decides on trying it. He offers it back to Loki, who very pointedly drinks from the exact part of the rim Thor’s lips had touched moments earlier, holding Thor’s gaze as he swallows.

The tension between them clouds Thor’s thoughts like a swift-gathering storm. He cannot stop looking at Loki, who looks unreal under the room’s soft lighting. It is increasingly difficult not to think of at least a few of the many and varied fantasies Thor has had about him in recent years.

“Three years ago,” Loki says, lifting his chin and regarding Thor thoughtfully, “were you going to kiss me?”

Thor looks at him, and sees no reason to lie. “I was.”

Loki takes another drag from the wine bottle and sets it aside. “Mm. I know,” he says, amused. “Gods, I wanted it.”

Thor doesn’t even realise he’s beginning to leak lightning until Loki sucks in a soft breath, watching the sparks play over Thor’s hands where they rest atop the bedspread.

“Oh dear,” Loki says, light-hearted and teasing and very, very interested. He looks at Thor as if he wishes to devour him. “Thor, you really ought to control yourself. It seems you’ve gotten yourself quite worked up.”

Thor ducks his head with a self-deprecating grin, flexing his fingers with a shuddering breath as he attempts to rein in the overflow of energy.

“Sorry,” Thor says quietly, avoiding Loki’s eyes. “It seems — you have that effect on me.”

“A compliment, I’m sure,” Loki says smoothly, and then falls silent for a moment. “If I kissed you now, would it make it better? Or — might it be worse?”

Loki trails his fingers over Thor’s wrist to feel the sparks for himself, shivering at the current of electricity that passes between them.

“Better,” Thor says quickly. “Unquestionably better.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirks up and he moves to settle atop Thor’s lap in one fluid motion. His fingers slide into Thor’s hair and finally, finally, Loki’s kissing him just as Thor has wanted so desperately for literal years. Wasting no time, Loki takes one of Thor’s hands in his own and draws it down between his thighs, his intention unmistakable; the lightning has ceased, much to Thor’s relief, even if Thor is so aroused now that he cannot think straight.

Thor takes the initiative, cupping Loki’s hard cock to feel the weight of it, then ventures down further when Loki rolls his hips invitingly. Loki’s cunt is so wet that he’s soaked right through the fabric of his leggings already, and the mere idea of fucking up inside him where he’s already wet and willing has Thor’s cock twitching within the confines of his breeches. Thor rubs there with two fingers, right over the slickened cloth, and Loki moans against Thor’s mouth as he rocks shamelessly against him.

Thor isn’t wholly surprised when a short time later they’re both naked and he’s fucking Loki like his life depends on it, desperately hoping that the much-needed silencing spell Loki claims to have cast will hold for the duration. He’s half-convinced they might send the bed through the wall anyway given the way the headboard ricochets back off the stone with every frantic thrust.

Loki clutches at the sheets with one hand and at Thor with the other, taking everything Thor gives him and begging for more. Panting, he spreads his legs wider; has Thor’s hips stuttering with mindless need.

“Don’t you fucking dare slow down,” Loki gasps, kissing Thor sloppily and tightening his grip on Thor’s hair.

Thor certainly has no intention of doing so. Bracing himself against the bed for leverage, he folds Loki nearly in half and fucks him without pause, eager to see him fall apart first. Loki cries out against Thor’s mouth at the sudden change of angle, rakes his nails down Thor’s back and comes all over himself untouched moments later.

Something within Thor unmoors at the sight of him. He drives in deep, Loki’s mouth at his ear murmuring silver-tongued encouragement all the while, and comes so hard his thighs continue shaking long after he pulls out.

After, they both start laughing, breathless and overwhelmed as they lie alongside one another. Thor hadn’t realised sex could be quite so spectacular as this, and, much to his delight, Loki too looks as stunned as he does satisfied.

Very little of the wine has been downed and so they decide by mutual, silent agreement to pick up where they left off; they lounge in bed, still unclothed and unwashed, passing the bottle back and forth and sharing stories of life in their respective realms. The conversation never falters, and Thor feels as if he has known Loki his whole life.

Loki is terribly enticing with his lips stained red with wine and his neck marked by Thor’s mouth, and Thor cannot help but kiss him again. Drawing Thor closer with a breathy sigh, Loki’s knees fall apart in blatant invitation, and it is all too easy to slip back between his thighs to have him a second time.

Come the morning, Loki is gone — a sensible choice given the risk of being caught — but he offers Thor a secretive, suggestive little smile when he sits alongside him at breakfast. In the hours and days and weeks that follow, even when Jotunheim is a distant memory, Thor finds he thinks of little else.

*

A whole year has passed them by, and Thor looks even more delectable than he did the last time Loki saw him if such a thing is possible. The memory of the night they’d shared remains vivid in Loki’s memory, unshakeable and oft called upon during lonelier evenings. He tries not to think on it during the meeting of their councils, but the sound of Thor’s voice makes it more difficult by the minute not to let his thoughts stray.

Unable to resist, he makes his way silently to Thor’s room under the cover of darkness; he feels almost as nervous as he had the last time, and is just as keen to hide it, but must at least know whether the option is there. He cannot sleep for thinking about it.

He need not have worried: that night, Thor sees to him so thoroughly and at such length that Loki can barely feel his legs when he finally stands up to head for the shower. Thor follows him to the bathroom where they kiss lazily beneath the hot spray for what feels like an age before staggering back to bed for a few short hours of sleep.

Loki forgets to leave in the early hours this time, so comfortable does he find himself sleeping alongside Thor. Laufey knocks upon Loki’s door mere minutes after Loki has returned to his own chambers, and thus comes dangerously close to catching him.

Later, alone in his own bed and with Thor in a different realm entirely, Loki trails absent-minded fingers over the bruises on his hips where Thor held him; decides, quite satisfied, that the risk was altogether worth it.

*

The evening drags on, seemingly endless, and Thor is full of restless energy and nervous anticipation by the time Loki comes to him. He hadn’t known for certain that Loki would even do so, but the looks they shared over dinner left him encouraged.

Thor has him pressed back against the door the moment it shuts behind them, kissing Loki with fervour and getting as much in return.

“Fuck,” Loki breathes, “Norns, I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

When Thor kisses him again Loki goes beautifully soft against him, letting Thor claim his mouth with a quiet groan of contentment.

“I dreamt of you last night,” Thor murmurs against his lips. “Gods, I’ve thought of little else since.”

He has in fact dreamt of Loki a great many times in the year since they last crossed paths, but decides to keep that part to himself.

Loki pulls back to look at him properly, his mouth kiss-bruised and beyond distracting. “Oh?” he says, apparently delighted at this admission. “Tell me, Thor — did you touch yourself and think of me?”

Thor slides one thigh between Loki’s, revelling at the way Loki’s breath hitches as he grinds down against him.

“Of course,” Thor tells him. “Do you imagine I could do anything but?”

Loki sinks to his knees with a most wicked smile upon his face, his fingers making fast work of the laces on Thor’s breeches. He sucks Thor with enthusiasm until his cock drools pre-spend and spit right into Loki’s lap; gets to his feet and strips them where they stand before tugging Thor back down and riding him at a brutal pace right there on the floor, the bed untouched only feet away.

The next morning, Loki dresses to cover himself from neck to toe, barely a sliver of skin showing. Nevertheless, Thor looks at him and sees his sex-scuffed knees and bruised wrists; can envisage quite clearly the marks that decorate his hipbones, and the rest that hide just beneath the line of his collar.

Loki catches him looking and raises an amused eyebrow. Thor doesn’t look away.

*

“Thor,” Loki greets him coolly, mindful of Laufey’s presence and Odin’s keen gaze. How the year has flown by; it hardly seems a moment since they last stood before one another.

“Loki,” Thor says, his expression one of bland irritation.

Very good, Loki thinks. The corner of Thor’s mouth twitches.

Loki cannot help but laugh at the look on Thor’s face when Loki disrobes for him later that night, for he now wears a different expression entirely. Thor stares and stares at the tiny jewelled hoops in Loki’s nipples and draws gentle fingers along the fine chains that connect them. They are hardly uncommon in Jotunheim, but rare indeed in Asgard if Thor’s awestruck appearance is anything to go by.

Emboldened by Thor's reaction, Loki lays himself out on the bed with its fine blankets and soft furs, drawing Thor down between the splay of his thighs. Guides Thor’s hand down low and then lower still until his fingers brush over the jewelled tip of the plug Loki wears inside himself.

Thor’s eyes swiftly darken until little blue remains. He captures Loki’s mouth first, kissing him thoroughly before moving down to suck determinedly at one nipple.

“Care — careful, oh gods, Thor, they’re still sensitive. I’ve had them but a few weeks,” Loki tells him breathlessly, the glorious suction Thor is applying hovering somewhere between mind-blowing pleasure and the edge of too much. He adds, for honesty’s sake, “You’re the first I’ve let touch them.”

Thor’s eyes glance up to meet his, and Loki knows then that he is in for a world of torment. Reaching between Loki’s legs, Thor draws teasing fingers over his cock and his cunt to rest one hand atop his thigh; nudges at the end of the plug with his thumb just as he tongues at the delicate little hoop and applies the barest hint of teeth to the over-sensitised skin that surrounds it. It feels so good that Thor has to devote his spare hand to holding Loki down by the hips, so hard does Loki buck and writhe against the sheets.

“Do you think you can come, just like this?” Thor muses, his bottom lip catching wetly at the peak of one nipple as he thumbs at the end of the plug again. The stubble on his jaw rubs at Loki’s chest so exquisitely that Loki’s cock pulses keenly, spattering drops of clear fluid onto his stomach that Thor idly licks away.

As it turns out, Loki can, and he does. Thor wraps the fine chain of Loki’s jewellery around his fingers and tugs at it gently, pressing close when Loki spends himself so he can mark Thor’s stomach in long pulses. The very notion of it, unexpected and deliciously filthy, has Loki trembling with aftershocks even when he has nothing left to spill.

Afterward, still lax with pleasure, Loki removes the plug and has Thor replace it with his cock; merely lies there and takes it as Thor finds his pleasure, drawing lazy, swirling patterns over Thor’s golden skin as he fucks him in long, decadent strokes. Thor keeps at him over and over until he spills inside with a rumbling grunt of pleasure Loki feels in his bones, a sound so perfect it embeds itself firmly in Loki’s memory.

It is only one of a great many things about Thor that are difficult to forget. Loki plays them over and over in his mind when Thor has long since returned to Asgard, and finds to his annoyance that in doing so he only misses his presence more.

*

It isn’t overly difficult for Thor to pretend that he and Loki hate one another for the sake of appearances. If anything, he finds it quite amusing.

What is difficult is attempting to concentrate on the discussions at hand when Loki sits opposite Thor with open contempt on his face, his casual and spurious indifference doing nothing to dampen Thor’s raging libido. He’d very much like to bend Loki over a sturdy piece of furniture and fuck the insolent smirk from his face if Loki is feeling amenable.

Judging by the lingering glances Loki gives Thor when no one is looking, he’s as desperate for it as Thor is, and the meeting cannot end quickly enough. Thor has patiently waited a year for this, yet the final scant hours until he can finally get Loki alone feel unbearably long.

This time, Thor doesn’t even have to wait until nightfall for Loki to seek him out. Loki corners Thor in a stairwell on the way to dinner and drags him into the nearest empty room, a dangerous gleam in his eye that Thor very much likes the look of. They don’t bother to undress; Thor turns Loki to face the wall, tips him up on his toes with his cheek and his palms pressed to the cool stone and tugs their clothing aside only as much as is needed. Fucks him like that with short, sharp strokes, breathing hotly against his ear until Loki is trembling with need.

On spending inside him, Thor gets to his knees and licks Loki clean where he’s still dripping Thor’s come and his own slick down his thighs; turns him around and sucks his cock until he spills in Thor’s mouth seconds later.

Breathless, still unsteady on his feet, Loki cups Thor’s face with one hand and draws his thumb over Thor’s glossy bottom lip. His expression softens when their eyes meet.

“Good boy,” he says, indulgent and fond.

Thor gazes up at him in wonder. He has never been one for worship and devotion, but down on his knees before Loki he thinks he’s finally beginning to see the appeal.

They arrive at dinner separately, hopelessly late and making their excuses. Despite having already had him the once, Loki comes to Thor later that night, no less eager for it than he was some hours ago. Sinking into his body again feels like relief, like quenching a dire thirst or sating a ravenous hunger. Thor has never desired anyone so badly as he desires Loki, his wanting a wild and desperate thing. They fuck for hours and talk and laugh and enjoy one another’s company for just as many, but Thor keeps his feelings close and thinks some things are better left unexamined.

He counts down the days until next year’s visit, even when he tells himself he isn’t, and overlooks the ache Loki’s absence leaves behind as though obliviousness could in some way ease it.

*

“Gods,” Loki says, working himself down onto Thor’s cock with a shivery gasp. It’s bordering on too much, the aching stretch making his toes curl, but it’s been far too long and he’s too impatient, too needy, to wait for it any longer. “Fuck. Did you get bigger?”

The muscles in Thor’s arms flex as he tugs at the bindings that secure him to the headboard. In truth, he could break them easily, but there would be little fun in that and they both know it.

Thor quirks an eyebrow at him, flashes him a roguish grin. “Perhaps you got tighter.”

Loki gives him a slanted smile and leans down to bite sharply at his bottom lip, viciously pleased. Thor’s hips jump up unbidden, a glorious shock of pleasure the result, and Loki laughs: the only thing more delicious than watching Thor exercise his admirable self-restraint is helping him break it.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here?” Thor asks, an amused twinkle in his eye. His breath catches audibly when Loki begins to ride him at a painstakingly slow pace, savouring every inch.

“We have all night, do we not?” Loki says, and they do. He intends to make the most of it.

*

Years now, they have now known one another, yet they never have enough time. Thor wants Loki in every way possible, in all the ways he’s willing. He often wonders how one night can feel so long when they are apart and yet woefully inadequate when they are together.

On this night, they spend hours exploring one another with hands and mouths, drawing out their pleasure.

“Will you fuck me tonight?” Thor asks. It would take little effort to do so, already worked slick and open through the combination of Loki’s talented fingers and his clever tongue.

“Later,” Loki says, looking up at Thor through his lashes.

Smoothly, Loki pushes himself over and up onto his hands and knees instead so that Thor might mount him. Loki is irresistible like this, enticing beyond measure, and clearly he knows it.

Thor runs his fingers down the sweeping arch of Loki’s spine before bringing his palm down sharply against his ass. Loki shudders beneath him, his knees sliding further apart on the bed; he’s so wet that his cunt clenches and drips thickly onto the sheets, the sight of him enough to make Thor grit his teeth. His cock throbs with the need to sink inside him, and Loki isn’t the only one dripping.

For a moment, Thor leans in close, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of Loki’s ear. “I fully intend to hold you to that.”

“Just give me your cock,” Loki retorts, voice raw and desperate despite his sharp-edged smile. “And you can hold me however or to whatever you please.”

“Is that so?” Thor chuckles darkly, lining himself up behind him.

Loki shakes with silent laughter when Thor grips at his hips and enters him in one slow, smooth stroke. Never one to back away from a challenge, Thor sets about fucking him until he’s shaking for different reasons entirely.

*

“Oh, I missed this,” Loki groans, three of Thor’s fingers pressed firmly and exquisitely up inside him.

In his mind it becomes tangled with so many other things he wants to say, and comes so terribly close to I missed you, that he presses his mouth to Thor’s shoulder lest he say something he shouldn’t.

It is the first time he has ever brought Thor to his own chambers. It was a foolish idea, he realises in hindsight, to give into the desire to see Thor tangled in his sheets and surrounded by his belongings. Thor fits right here, in Loki’s life, all too easily.

It is almost as foolish as the walk Loki had them take together earlier in the night; the conversations they shared under Jotunheim’s clear and cold night sky felt boundless as they ate fruit from one another’s fingers, their bodies kept warm by heated glances and the unspoken promise as to what would follow once they returned indoors.

Loki groans softly as Thor positions himself and eases inside — lost in it, almost — but not quite lost enough not to hear Thor’s soft-murmured me too. Whilst he has no reservations that Thor means it, he doubts very much that Thor misses him in quite the same way Loki does; but that way lies heartache, and nothing good comes from dwelling on the things he cannot have, so Loki draws Thor down into a dizzying kiss and lets each rocking thrust drive all further thought from his mind.

*

Back in Asgard, Thor has his flings. Spends enjoyable nights with people he cares for, but never lets it go further. He tells himself year after year that he wants someone like Loki — the way he feels when he’s with him the standard against which all others must be measured — but they never, ever are. No one even comes close.

Thor fears he will go to Jotunheim next year, or the year after, or a century from now, only to find that Loki has found someone else to be a more permanent fixture at his side. That he will hear word of Loki’s marriage via small talk and court gossip.

He visits Jotunheim as always, that summer: sees Loki, and savours every second. Fucks him like it’s the last time, just in case, and somehow feels an unfathomable yearning even when Loki is right there alongside him. He rests his head upon Loki’s chest when they are done, as much of an admission as he dares, and Loki, to his surprise, allows it. He is uncharacteristically quiet, however, carding gentle fingers through Thor’s hair until they doze off.

When it is time to head home, Loki gives him a fleeting look of such fondness that it is all too easy to imagine for a moment that he could feel as Thor does. But they say their goodbyes as always, Thor’s heart in his throat as they do so, and that, in the end, is that.

*

Ten whole nights in the span of ten years and it finally falls apart.

“Loki, I think the world of you,” Thor says. He is clad only in his breeches, sitting on the edge of Loki’s sex-rumpled bed with his head in his hands. “Your world, my world. The whole nine realms.”

Loki goes utterly still with surprise where he’s sat alongside him, only halfway into his tunic. He’s still orgasm-drunk, pleasantly dazed, and isn’t entirely sure he heard him correctly.

“What?” Loki says at last. Disentangling himself from his clothing, he pulls the tunic on all the way and looks at Thor blankly.

Thor sighs, lifting his head with reluctance. Loki has never seen him look so pained.

“I cannot bear to have you for one night of the year and then leave you for the rest of it,” Thor says softly. “If I cannot have you always then I mustn’t have you at all, for my sake and for yours. For that I am truly sorry, but I hope you can understand.”

It is one of the only times in Loki’s life that he can ever recall being rendered speechless. He opens his mouth, but no words seem to form.

“My father hates yours, and you by association,” Loki says at length, voicing his thoughts aloud. It is only one of many things he wants to say. It isn’t the most pertinent, not really, but it is the first that spills from his mouth unbidden. “Can you even imagine the fallout if we were together, truly together, and everyone knew?”

“Yes,” Thor says miserably. “I am aware.”

Loki sits in silence, still reeling from Thor’s admission. He hadn’t dared to let himself hope for this, hadn’t ever anticipated that Thor would see their time together as anything more than risqué dalliances to pass the time on his travels. Now it’s apparently an option, Loki wants nothing else; he cannot imagine not having Thor at all, cannot bear the notion that this could be the last time they ever touch. The thought makes him feel nauseated.

“Run away with me,” Loki says, his heart pounding a drumbeat in his chest. Thor looks at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Run away with me,” Loki repeats, suddenly giddy with excitement. He gets up, settles atop Thor’s lap still half-dressed. “If you want me always, Thor, then you have me. No one can stop us, as much as they might like to. What can they do?”

“Loki,” Thor breathes, searching Loki’s expression as if he expects to find a lie there. “Don’t say such things in jest.”

“I’m not,” Loki says, and brushes their lips together tenderly enough that Thor surely cannot doubt his sincerity. He’d gladly flee this gilded cage in a heartbeat. “I’m sick of the sight of this wretched realm regardless, I want to travel. We’ll go to Vanaheim, find a room somewhere where no one will care who we are. Let our realms sort their petty squabbles without us, at least for now.”

What will come after that, he doesn’t know and doesn’t care to. They’ll deal with it when they come to it, no doubt; that is, if Thor says yes, for he has yet to.

Thor laughs then, gladdened and tentatively hopeful, and Loki’s chest aches with longing at the sound of it. “It’ll cause quite the scandal.”

“Yes,” Loki says. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

Grinning, Thor tumbles them both over onto the bed and kisses Loki soundly.

“Will you do it?” Loki asks.

Yes,” says Thor.

“We must hurry,” Loki says, running his thumb over Thor’s bottom lip and then bringing their mouths together again. They will have to leave swiftly, before dawn, if they are to leave unseen. “Pack your things.”

“I’m getting to it,” Thor says breathlessly, nuzzling at Loki’s neck.

Loki wraps his legs around Thor’s waist, winds his arms around Thor’s neck and melts into the kiss. Gods, he wants this every day; wants Thor on him and under him and inside him whenever they please. Wants to wake up next to him, morning after morning. Wants to know Thor outside of these walls, by day as well as by night, no longer hidden from view.

“Norns,” Loki says, canting his hips up to meet Thor’s. “Just take me somewhere with a bed, we shan’t leave it for days.”

Apparently, this is all the motivation Thor needs, for he heaves a shuddering breath and extracts himself from Loki’s embrace so quickly Loki nearly falls off the mattress.

“Yes,” Thor says. “Right, of course, yes,” and begins putting his clothes back on faster than Loki has ever managed to take them off him.

 *

Thor leaves Loki to dress and pack for himself, darting back to the guest room to gather the few scant possessions he brought with him. Briefly, he thinks of his mother, and vows to send word to her as soon as he can to keep her from worrying. They’ll be back, sooner or later, once the dust has settled. He smiles to himself and thinks Frigga will secretly be quite proud of him for seeking his own adventures, for she has always been that way inclined.

When he and Loki step outside the sun is only just beginning to rise on Jotunheim, the air as ice-crisp and fresh as always. Thor tugs Loki close by the waist and Loki presses up against him, looking as nervous and excited as Thor feels. It is as if a hundred butterflies have taken flight within his stomach.

“Where to?” Thor asks, Mjolnir a familiar and comforting presence in his hand.

Loki gives a thoughtful hum. “Surprise me.”

Thor calls for Heimdall, for the Bifrost, and Loki clings to him with breathless laughter as they are pulled off their feet in a rush of clean air. Together, they hurtle to Vanaheim via Asgard in a kaleidoscope of colour and move onward via Mjolnir’s flight.

They land, and everything is new.