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Sweet Wine

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One night Loki has a dream. Sweaty bodies moving together, harsh breathing, and a fullness in his pussy like he has never experienced before. It’s a strange and frustrating dream, because he can’t move. Sleep paralysis maybe. All Loki knows is that he is powerless, limp like a rag-doll, as the muscular body above him—in him—makes him orgasm again and again.

Loki is sore down there when he wakes up. With careful fingers he explores his delicate lips, his bruise soft little hole, and whines when he brushes his swollen clit. It’s wet and sloppy, squelching when he inserts a digit. He feels used. It’s impossible though; there is no way he could sleep through someone using his body, and his doors are all spellshut, allowing only his family in. There is no one who could have taken him in the night.

Loki has never known a man intimately—has guarded his secret little quim, never allowing anyone to get near enough. He is not familiar with the lingering sensations after getting fucked, so he must be mistaken. His soreness must be a side effect of the wet dream and the orgasms he had during the night.

It’s the only explanation.


 Loki goes about his day, feeling slightly out of place in his own skin. His leg muscles are sore and his pants shafe despite his silken underwear, his neithers still raw and swollen.

It’s a relief when dinner time comes, and Loki eats with gutso, eager to get back to his own room and sleep this unexplained soreness away.

Thor watches him through the meal, blue eyes tracking him like a wolf does a rabbit. Loki arches an eyebrow at him, and seconds later Thor’s hungry expression is gone, replaced with a sunny smile, making Loki almost think he mistook it. Almost.

“More wine brother?” Thor asks, already pouring him another glass.

The wine is thick and over sweet on Loki’s tongue, but he drinks it anyway, only frowning when the glass is empty. “What kind of wine is this?” Loki asks.

“Oh I don’t know,” Thor says, filling Loki’s goblet again. Their parents have already retired. “It would be a waste to leave it though. Here, drink some more.”

That night Loki leaves the table feeling woozy, limbs too heavy—it’s like being drunk but not. “You had too much to drink little brother!” Thor laughs, Loki’s arm around his shoulder as Thor drags him to his chambers.

“No, it was only three glasses.” Loki mumbles, tongue swollen and hard to maneuver. “I feel weird…”

“Ssch, it’s alright. Big brother has you,” Thor hushes him as he places Loki, naked, on his bed. When did his clothes come off?

Loki blinks, and the room is suddenly dark and warm. He realizes he is loosing time.

A naked body covers his, skin hot and sticky with sweat. Wet noises rings around the stuffy room, sloppy and squelching. Loki becomes aware of sensation next. The first is fullness. There’s a fat cock thrusting into Loki’s little pussy. Loki tries to scream, to push his assailant away, but his arms won’t move and all that comes out is a whimper.

The man keeps moving, hands like hot brands on Loki’s hips. He tilts Loki’s pelvis up, for better access, and starts to plough him mercilessly. Miles of fat cock is pushed into Loki, forcing his body to part around the too large intrusion. It’s a tight fit, causing a vacuum like drag each times the man pulls almost out, only to ram in again.

“N-nn…” No! Loki tries to say, but he can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even open his eyes. He can only lie there helplessly as he is raped.

The man keeps going. Time stretches out, an unending repetition of getting filled, pussy going hot and raw around the rapist’s cock—each thrust hitting Loki too deep and bruising his cervix. A chilling thought occurs to him. He could get pregnant from this.

As if on cue the man groans, deep and relieved, as he fucks in and comes against Loki’s womb, thick seed warm against his insides. To his horror Loki feels close himself, body so ready for orgasm.

Loki’s tears tears overflow as the man keeps moaning, fucking in his spend. He knows that voice.

There’s a small lull, simply for breathing, but the cock in him never grows fully soft. Soon it is hard as steel again, and the rhythm starts back up. In, squelch, out, suck, in, squelch, out—

“You’re so good Loki.” The man groans.

No, don’t speak. Loki begs in his mind. If you speak I can’t pretend. I’ll know it’s you.

His pleas aren’t answered. The man keeps speaking. “So tight and wet for me. Still as tight as yesterday, and you were a virgin then.” He fucks in hard at the memory. “I loved breaking your hymen. The way you whimpered and bled. Loved knowing I was first. That I’ll be the only.”

He takes Loki’s legs and drapes them over his shoulders, then bends down—folding Loki in half. “Now you’re gonna come for me. Feels so good when you clench around my cock.” He starts fucking Loki with quick snaps of his hips, each thrust deep and merciless. Loki’s clit gets pounded like this, and a soft spot inside gets hit again and again. Loki can feel his orgasm build in seconds, pussy going hot and tight, before he is hurled over the edge, body wracked with spasms as he comes and comes and comes.

“That’s it,” Thor groans in his ear, “You love this Loki. Your pussy can’t lie and it loves this.”

Thor places a tender little kiss on Loki’s tear damp lips. He doesn’t seem to care that Loki is awake, that he knows. Thor pulls back and smiles at him as he starts fucking again. “You’re such a good little brother Loki. So good for me.” Thor caresses his cheek, eyes soft, “You’ll get used to this. You’ll want it. Soon you won’t even need the drug.”

No, no, no, no. Loki closes his eyes and weeps. Already he can feel another orgasm building. When he comes again Thor praises him, so sweet, and Loki goes hot and cold at the same time. He can’t stop the thought: he is afraid Thor is right.