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A Push out the Door

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The snowstorm is howling outside, shaking window panes, hoarfrost creeping in through the cracks in Thor's cottage, leaving everything damp and cold. He has moved into the smithy, the room still heated from that day's work; spearheads for the lords of Alfheim.

He feeds the heart some wood and coaxes the embers back to full flames, then stands there, heating his stiff joints and rubbing his hands together to get the blood flowing. When the fire is crackling, Thor goes to find quilts and sheep skins to sleep on. He arranges them on the heated part of the stamped clay floor. He'll sleep here tonight, his bed chamber is too cold.

He sits down with a bottle of dark beer and stares into the flames. Minutes later, he pulls out the signet ring he wears on a chain under his shirt, and turns it between his fingers. The gold looks liquid in the light of the fire, royal symbol in stark relief. It's all Thor has left of Asgard. For a fleeting moment, he wonders how the realm fares under his sister’s rule, but quickly he lifts the bottle and drowns the thought with beer. Belly sloshing, Thor lies down and settles in for another long night.

There's a knock on the door.

Frowning, Thor turns towards it, as if he could see through the wood. It must have been snow falling down, or an icicle. It cant be a person. It's a damn blizzard outside, and there are two miles to the nearest village.

Another bout of knocking, loud and almost defiant.

Thor climbs out of his blanket nest, grabs his blacksmith hammer, and goes to see what it is.

There's a boy outside, pale and thin, standing barefoot in the snow. Unnaturally green eyes stare at Thor through the darkness. Long black hair whips about in the wind, thick lashes clumped together from tears and melting snowflakes. “Please, let me in,” the boy begs, voice ripped away by the storm, “Please,” he reaches for Thor, “I need a place to stay.”

Thor has heard stories of snow wraiths and restless spirits, remnants of people who froze to death, eternally haunting the winter storms, lost, crying, moaning, and searching for a warmth they'll never feel again. It's said those who see them get cursed and die themselves. You should never let them inside.

Thor lets the boy in.

The door slams behind them, and the youth collapses on the floor. “Oh thank you,” he says, “thank you, thank you.”

“What the Hel were you doing out in that storm,” Thor asks, not really expecting an answer. His thick woolly cape hangs by the door, so Thor grabs it out of convenience and drapes it over the boy's thin shoulders.

“I ran away,” The boy says, looking up at Thor with liquid eyes and blue lips. He's not shivering. Thor knows that's a bad sign.

“Must be one shitty situation to send you running into that weather,” Thor grunts, then grabs him, arm around his back and under his knees, carrying over the his improvised bed by the fire.

After picking him up, Thor can tell that he's not as young as first assumed. Just long-limbed and thin. Once put down, the boy lies still, watching him with wide eyes as Thor starts pulling off his own clothes. Thor catches his frightened look, “I’m not gonna do anything. You've got hypothermia. We have to heat you up.”
The boy is silent as Thor bares himself and climbs into the nest. He pulls off the boy’s damp clothes; nothing but a shift and thin leggings, then hauls him onto his lap, wincing at how cold he is, and wraps the blankets around them.

They sit there for a while, letting the fire do its work, until Thor no longer feels like he is hugging an ice block. The boy still stays cool though, like the chill is emanating from his marrow.

“Alright, what's your name and what are you running from,” Thor demands to know, chin resting on the boy's dark head.

There's a long pause before the boy speaks. “…Loki.” He finally says, “My family were going to sell me, so I ran.”

Thor frowns. Slavery technically isn't allowed on Alfheim, but you still get indentured servitude; youths sold to brothels to pay off their family's debt, or unneeded second sons sold to the army as cannon fodder. From how delicate and pretty Loki is, Thor thinks he must have run from the former.

“Is anyone coming after you?” Thor asks. He feels sympathy for the kid, but he technically has no legal right to shelter a debter.

Loki shakes his head, “No, I ran too far. They can't follow me here.”

“Hmm.”

Loki curls his fingers in Thor's chest hair, “Please, let me stay? I can… I can cook for you? Or clean, or-or—” he looks around the room, probably taking in Thor's tools, the anvil and forge, “—if you need an apprentice…”

“I don't.” Thor says, “and I can cook and clean for myself just fine. Besides, what makes you think you'll be safe here? I might be just as bad as whatever you escaped from.”

He feels Loki go very still, breath hitching, but to Thor's surprise he quickly composes himself. “You're not a bad man. If you were, you wouldn't be asking me this; you would just throw me to the floor and take me.”

Thor nods, “Interesting theory, and yet,” quick as a flash Thor turns them around, Loki's back to the furs, caught underneath Thor's bulk. The boy looks adorably shocked, all wide green eyes and paling complexion.

Thor doesn't know why he's bullying him. He's a little drunk, and more than a little lonely out here in the Alfheim wilds. Dark shadows hang over his past, haunting him. None of that is an excuse.

With a snort, Thor let’s go of Loki's wrists and pulls back. “You're lucky that you're right about me. I'm not gonna do anything you don't want.”

Loki just blinks up at him, a small tear escaping from his eye. Ah crap. Thor really scared him—of course he'd meant to; running trustingly into the arms of a stranger is a sure fire way to meet a messy end sooner or later, and Loki should learn that lesson, but still. Thor feels guilty.

He looks away from Loki's sprawled body and runs a hand through his hair, “Look, you can stay here for a day or two, until I need to make a delivery in the village. I'll help you ask around for an apprenticeship or servant position, but then you're on your own.” Thor shouldn't involve himself too much in the lives of the people here. Banished or not, there is no telling if Hela will one day suddenly remember that she has a challenger to her throne and come calling. Running is easier when you are alone.

The fire crackles noisily in the otherwise silent room, wood popping. The wind howls and the old cottage groans.

Loki swallows and spreads his legs, “You must be lonely out here, I can…” His voice trails off, a false start. Thor stares at him, mouth dropping open; it seems to give Loki the momentum he needs. “I can keep you company.” He keeps eye contact as he says it, but Thor catches the way he is white-knuckling fistfuls of fur.

There is something odd about Loki, and it's not just the sudden proposition. The fire is burning, but Loki still hasn't started shivering, body showing no signs of fighting to heat up. He's not weak or delirious. From the long pale legs on either side of him, Thor can feel Loki's skin, cool to the touch, but not the corpse like chill of someone half frozen.

Thor should not be tempted. Loki is scared to be thrown out; acting under duress at best, or plotting something at worst. No, Thor should not be tempted, but he is only a man, so he is.

Narrowing his eyes, Thor leans down, elbows on each side of Loki's shoulders, hovering over him and caging him in, their noses almost brushing. This close Loki smells like winter and something wild—electric. He should say something, give Loki an out—but he doesn't. Thor dips his head, running his beard over Loki's neck. Loki draws in a shaky breath and bares his throat. Thor opens his mouth and bites at the offered skin, tongue tasting the tingling tang of magic.

“You seem very eager to stay with me,” Thor muses, voice soft next to Loki's ear. “I wonder why? I'm just a simple blacksmith.”

Loki starts to reply, but uninterested in the lie he'll no doubt tell, Thor cuts him off with a hungry kiss. Loki's mouth is soft and very hot inside. He tastes like melted snow. From the way Thor has to coax his unsure tongue out to play, it is clear that Loki is inexperienced at this. Thor groans into the kiss. A virgin then.

Thor runs greedy hands down Loki's back, stopping by his waist and marveling at how he can almost reach all the way around it with his hands, thumbs close to meeting over Loki's navel. He is so small compared to Thor. He'll be incredibly tight.

Loki pants for air when Thor pulls away from his mouth and starts peppering kisses and hickies down his neck, until he reaches rosy nipples that definitely deserve attention. Thor bites and sucks until they're pebbling and he can feel Loki's heart beating like a drum through his chest.

Thor looks up at him from under his lashes, breath cooling wet nipples as he speaks, “Do you want to tell me how you found me yet?”

“W-what?” Loki sounds drunk. If he's one of Hela’s assassins he is not a very good one, “I didn't hear what you said, can you repea—aaarght!”

Loki squeals, breaking off into gibberish as Thor rips off his flimsy undergarments and grabs his cock. It's a good size for Loki's age, already wet, crying prettily from a dusky rose colored tip. Thor licks it like a treat, working his tongue over the bundle of nerves under the head. Loki throws his head back and sobs.

There's something thrilling about sex when you know it might end in bloodshed.

While sucking on the cock in his mouth, Thor trails his fingers down to play with Loki's balls. He finds something else.

Startled, Thor pulls back, Loki giving a frustrated whine his dick slaps sweetly against his belly. The lightning is dim in here, fire the only source, but when Thor grabs Loki under his thighs and spreads his legs, he lays bare a small but pretty pussy, gleaming wetly in the fire light, tiny hole seeming to wink at Thor.

Thor groans, dick jumping and drooling from the sight. He had looked forward to a tight ass, but this is almost better. “What a nice surprise you have here Loki,” Thor says, running careful fingers over the delicate petals. He has Loki bent nearly in half, rear end up in the air, laid bare for Thor's perusal .

“What surprise?” Loki asks, voice a bit slurred from his position.

“Mmh, this juicy little peach.” Thor bends down to taste. It's sweet. Loki jolts when Thor starts lapping at him, thighs flexing, probably fighting to keep them open. “Fuck, you're so wet,” Thor moans, grabbing Loki's dick with his one hand and keeping him in position with the other.

“A-a-aren't yours?” Loki stutters, eyes squeezed shut.

The question makes Thor pause. So Loki thinks Thor has a pussy too? That's rather telling. Only a few species of The Nine are intersexed, and only one of those would fare well in snow storms. Loki must be pretty sheltered if he doesn't know how their anatomy differs. Probably not an assassin then.

Thor pumps Loki's dick and watches him writhe, pale neck taut as he gasps and shivers, fire casting marble skin gold. If he really is just a runaway, from however far away, Thor should stop. He should tuck Loki in and take him to the village in the morning. But Thor isn't going to.

Whatever is the truth about Loki, Thor decides to eat him out and worry about it later.

Sealing his lips over the sensitive little pearl and sucking, flicking it with his tongue, earns him a loud cry. It's right under Loki's dick, so it's easy to run his mouth up, up, up and down again, taking Loki down his throat.

Loki grabs his hair and pulls.

“Please, please—Oh!” He cries, going quiet when Thor pushes a finger into his warm, gushing core. The glide in and out is smooth and easy, so Thor adds another, which earns him a little sigh.

“How does it feel?” Thor asks conversationally, pumping slowly and twisting, just right, making Loki's leg kick out on reflex.

“There—There again! Good, so full,” Loki babbles, overwhelmed but pushing his hips up for more, “I can't reach like this myself. Your fingers— they're so big!”

“Oh this is nothing,” Thor chuckles, pushing down his underpants and freeing his cock. He resettles over Loki, firm hands gripping sharp hipbones. He rubs his member through Loki's slick, veiny cock looking big and monstrous, red and angry, next to Loki's delicate folds. Thor enjoys the contrast for a moment, then angles the head into position and pushes in.

Loki goes stiff, but Thor keeps going. Oh it's good. So hot. So fucking tight. Loki is whining, stretched too far, pushing at Thor's shoulders, but his pussy is pulling Thor in, greedily clenching and twitching. Thor groans when he is balls deep and falls to his elbows, chests pressed together—kisses Loki's neck and praises him. “So good baby, you feel amazing.”

“It hurts,” Loki whimpers.

Thor bets it does. He felt a hymen break. “Shh, shh, it'll be over soon.” Thor croons, mouthing at Loki's ear, “I'll make you feel so good.”

As soon as Loki relaxes from the words, Thor starts fucking him—probably sooner than he should. But Thor can't help it, Loki feels so good when he clenches, cries so sweetly, looks so pretty with overwhelmed tears in his eyes.

The wet noises of heavy balls slapping against full buttocks, and a tight pussy getting plundered by its first cock, fill the air of the cottage. Thor pulls Loki's legs over his elbows and looks down at where his fat cock is pushing in and out of Loki's weeping cunt, glistening from silk and a hint of blood each time it emerges, before fucking back in.

Loki grabs into Thor's arms, nails biting, and angles his hips, little oh, oh’s and ah's getting pulled from him each time Thor pushes in.

“It’s like you were made for taking my cock,” Thor praises, sweating from the effort of plowing Loki into the bedding.

Gasping, mouth wide and wet—Thor is gonna have that later—Loki puts a shaking hand on his belly and his eyes go wide. “I can feel you here, through my stomach!”

Looking down, Thor can see it’s true. The boy is stuffed full, tiny belly bulging each time Thor fills him. “I'm gonna fill you even more baby,” Thor grunts, and fucks him harder.

Loki throws his arms around Thor's shoulders and hangs on for dear life as his pussy gets reamed. “Y-y-ah!—YES! Fill me!” He grabs and pulls at Thor's hair and pants into his ear, “Come inside me.”

Thor groans, he's so close, “You first,” he says, remembering his manners. He gets a hand between their bellies and down. First he feels where they are connected; feels how Loki's flesh gives way for Thor, pulsing and twitching, already tight and close to release. It doesn't take much rubbing at his little clit before Loki starts coming. He throws his head back and screams, orgasm working through him in ripples that Thor can feel.

Thor pushes deep and comes too.

It seems to take forever, and it's so good that Thor's vision goes wonky for a little while. When he can feel his toes again, Thor notices that he is crushing Loki underneath his bulk. Feeling sleepy and heavy limbed, Thor still manages to get up. He holds Loki's limp legs open and watches himself pull out. His glistening cock emerges from Loki's used hole, followed by a flood of white come. Thor hums, reaches down and pushes it back in with his fingers. Loki's pussy squelches, it's so wet. His hole is looser than before, unable to close up after the fucking Thor gave it. It still feels great though, and Thor can't wait to have him again. He can be rougher next time.

Loki lies flat on his back, arms akimbo, eyes wide but glassy, staring straight ahead. He is flushed and clearly dazed, just lying there, letting Thor play with his flesh—letting Thor stuff him with come and fingers.

It doesn't take long for Thor to regain his vigor. He was not once called a fertility god for nothing. This time he turns Loki around so he's lying on his belly, then grabs his hips and lifts up his round ass. “There you go, lock your knees for me baby. Good boy.” Thor runs a hand down his flank, like soothing a filly, when Loki obeys.

Loki looks back over his shoulder at him, green eyes bright in the fire light. His mouth drops open in a perfect “O" when Thor pushes back in, fucking through his own spend until it's running down Loki's creamy thighs.

The fire crackles in the heart—it sounds like laughter. Outside the winter winds howl, storm and frost meeting in untamed union.

 

 xXx


Thor wakes because he is cold. The fire has gone down during the night, and the body next to him doesn't give off any heat…

Thor stares uncomprehendingly at the miles of blue skin where there was once marble pale. “How drunk was I?” Thor wonders out loud, casting a dubious glance at his empty bottle of beer, before he remembers his suspicions about Loki. “Ahh, that's right…”

Thor sighs and pulls a blanket over the Jotun sleeping in his makeshift bed, not that Loki needs it, then gets up to tend to the fire.

He has to go outside to the shed to get more wood. While he is gathering logs, Thor wonders what to do about Loki. He can't exactly throw the boy out after taking his virginity and fucking him all night. Thor has some decency. Besides, he has been alone for a long time. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have companion. Maybe… Maybe even something more. Still, hiding a Jotun, even one evidently gifted in magic, won't be easy.

Thor's thoughts get derailed by the sound of hoof beats, a group of five Elven riders galloping towards him through the snow.

“Who goes there?” Thor calls to them.

The leader holds up his hand for the rest to stop. “Soldiers from queen Veela's court. We're looking for a runaway.”

Thor unconsciously tenses for a fight, “Oh?”

The head rider looks grim. “We must find him. The fate of our realm—of all the realms—are at stake.”

Thor puts down the logs and folds his arms. “Realms at stake. Got it. Now why don't you tell me who exactly you're looking for?”

The rider does.

 

xXx

 

Loki jumps when Thor barges in, door slamming against the wall. He looks nervously from Thor's face to his own arms, skin now pale and pink again. Probably worried Thor saw before he went out.

Despite his mood, Thor snorts. “Don't bother.” He throws the firewood in a pile next to the lit fire. Loki must have found some logs somewhere. “I saw you when I woke up. I don't care what color you are.”

Loki's shoulders drop in relief, “I'm… I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” He fiddles with his hands, then gestures at the cluttered table where a couple of steaming bowls have been put down. “I made oatmeal?”

The nervous gestures. The clear desire to endear himself and stay useful. The offer of food. It's all enough to make Thor's anger evaporate, but he still feels annoyed.
“Well let’s see how you did then,” Thor says and sits down. He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “A bit lumpy, but you're not a bad cook, for a Prince.”

“Thank you, I—” Loki's eyes widen and his mouth snaps shut when he realizes what Thor just said.

Thor shovels more food in, speaking with his mouth full, “Met some riders outside. Said they were looking for Jotunheim’s youngest prince.” Thor looks up at Loki, still chewing the oatmeal like he hasn't a care in the world.

Loki takes a step back. He is shaking, pale, and his eyes are wide and close to tears. “Please don't hand me over. Please, I beg you!” He runs over and falls to his knees in front of Thor, reaching for his hands and clutching one when he grabs it. “I'll be good for you! Didn't you—” his tears overflows and he starts crying, “Didn't you enjoy me last night? You can have me again. I promise—I promise I won't fight you, just please—”

“Stop caterwauling,” Thor says and pulls Loki up by the neck, then drags him unto his lap. “I didn't say a damn thing about handing you over, but I want an explanation. First of all, how did you find me?”

Loki just blinks at him for a moment, then swallows heavily. “When I learned they were handing me over to the Butcher of Asgard, I cast a spell. It told me where to find one who would keep me safe.”

“The Butcher of Asgard,” Thor repeats, voice dull, not liking where this is going.

Loki nods, “Hela has the Nine Realms locked in her grip, and everyone is too scared to do anything about it… I cast my spell in desperation. I wasn't sure it would show me anyone… But it did,” he looks at Thor, “It showed me you.”

Thor stares at him for a long moment, then brings up a hand to cover his face and groans. “So you don't know.” Thor says, feeling the signet ring pressing against his breastbone.

“Know what?” Loki asks, sounding understandably nervous.

Thor lowers his hand and looks him dead in the eyes. “I'm Hela's younger brother, Thor.”

Much to Thor's surprise, Loki doesn't jump up like a scalded cat, nor does he start screaming. He just blinks large green eyes at Thor. “The lost Prince…? Everyone thought you were dead, killed like your parents.” Loki looks away, gazing into the fire and ignoring the tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Thoughts seem to whip through his head, faster than Thor can follow. “But it makes sense. Of course the only one who can stand up to Hela is someone with equal power and claim to the throne.” Loki says, looking almost excited.

“Now wait just a minute,” Thor interjects, “No one is saying anything about standing up to Hela.” He gestures around the room, “I say we stay right here in my smithy. We stay safe.”

Loki gives him a dubious look.

“You could be a blacksmith's wife. Doesn't that sound nice?” Thor asks, feeling like he's loosing control of the conversation.

Loki frowns even more.

“You didn't seem to mind last night…” Thor mutters, squeezing one of Loki's thighs. There are other means of persuasion.

Loki slaps his hand away and turns more to face him, “Why would I be a blacksmith's “wife" when I can be Consort to the king of Asgard?”

“Errh, because living is nice?” Thor says.

“Living as royalty.” Loki says with relish.

“You have clearly never met Hela…” Thor says, suddenly longing for beer.

“Don't be so despondent Thor,” Loki says, eyes shining with a new feverish light. “When I learned there was someone who could protect me from Hela's wrath, I consulted a seer. We are destined to win. She saw that my children would be kings and queens. Our children.” He covers his belly with both hands, fingers interlinked. He is smiling, looking very pleased with himself.

Thor splutters. Their children? Thor stares at him in sudden trepidation. Loki looks to be of childbearing age. Thor should probably have thought about that before he fucked him raw all night and came in him six times. Ah well, hindsight.

“You don't think that could be because Hela takes you? They might be your children with her.” Thor tries, though it's a thin excuse. Hela hates the Jotnar.

Judging by Loki's frown, he clearly knows it. “Of course not. She was going to keep me hostage for a while, then slaughter me as an example.”

“Of course she was.” Thor mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. That sounds like the way she would keep other Realms in check. By showing she can kill their heirs as she pleases. Except this one was too clever and had run away. Now Hela is tearing the realms apart to find him. She probably didn't even mind, the psycho.

Thor still remembers the night of her coup. He remembers waking from a nightmare and going to his parents room. Thor had been a little too old for something like that, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had woken him.

He had found his father's signet ring lying in the hallway, smeared with something sticky and red. He had thought it odd. For a moment Thor had thought he was still dreaming. Then he had opened the doors.

He remembers the sheets and walls being soaked in blood, Hela standing over their parents corpses and looking at him with cold eyes. “You shouldn't have woken up,” she had said, knifes dripping red, “You could have died painlessly in your sleep.” She had started advancing on him, “Come here little brother and I'll try to be quick.”

Thor had run.

He still remembers the big ginger haired warrior who had gotten him out of the palace. Who had gotten him to the Bifrost, where Heimdahl was waiting. “Go my prince,” they had told him, “Hela will pay for what she has done, and then we will follow.”

Crying from fear and shock, Thor had gone. He had landed on Alfheim. No one had followed.

 

“—Thor? Thor!”

Thor blinks and he is back in his smithy, back to Loki sitting astride his lap and calling his name.

“Where did you go?” Loki asks, voice soft as he cups Thor's face in his hands.

Thor swallows and blinks his misty eyes. “She murdered our parents in their sleep…” he trails off, remembering the blood in the hallway. “I think one of them might have woken up and fought back. I've never known which.”

Loki makes a cooing sound and strokes Thor's hair. “And you? You've never wanted revenge? Never wanted to fight back?”

Thor let’s his gaze slide past Loki, taking in the smithy. It looks small and dusty in the daylight. “Of course I have.”

Loki rests his hands on Thor's shoulders and tilts his head. “Then why not do so? Is living as a fugitive on Alfheim, always looking over your shoulder, really so much better than fighting back?”

Thor's lips thin. “It's a life. It's better than going up single-handedly against Hela and getting slaughtered.”

Strangely, Loki smiles. “Oh we wouldn't be alone. There's plenty of resistance against Hela. They have just been divided and leaderless,” He runs long elegant fingers through Thor's beard. “Until now.”

“I'm just a blacksmith,” Thor says, but it sounds weak.

It's like they have swapped places. Now Thor is the one shaking and Loki leaning over him with an almost predatory smile.

“Oh you are so much more than that my dear Thor,” he purrs, “And I, for one, believe in our shared fate.”

Thor closes his eyes. The signet ring burns against his chest, pulsing with the beat of Thor's heart. He thinks of his parents, of their bedroom painted red. He thinks of the future, of growing old here in Alfheim. He thinks of his children, who may already be growing in Loki's belly. If Hela ever found him, they wouldn't be spared.

Thor opens his eyes and looks at Loki. Blue or pale, Thor had wanted him from the moment he laid eyes on him. He had come to Thor in desperation. Just one more innocent who Hela had meant to feed to her blades. How many have died already?

He reaches up and cups Loki's neck, “Let's hope that fate we're supposed to be sharing is a good one.”

Loki grins, wide and wild, “I can give you an army. I will. I promise.”

Thor nods. He doesn't doubt it. Loki seems resourceful enough for it. “We'll get there. But first we are going to Nidavellir.”

Loki wrinkles his nose, “Why there?”

Finally, after what feels like centuries, Thor lets a bloodthirsty smile cover his face. “I'm getting myself an axe to chop of my sister's head.”

 

The end.