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He was a flash of monochrome amid the nut-browns and tan beauties of this tropical warm-hued street, the sweat-dampened hair trailing like black ink down his back. The tank top clung almost obscenely to his body. Thor knew that were he to turn around, his rosy nipples would be straining against that thin, tight fabric.
His sinuous lines swayed in serpentine motions to the samba beat. An icy beauty from some land of blacks, whites and ash-greys, surely; those sharpish features were more forbidding than they were inviting. At odds with the easy sensuality of the Latina girls and their laughing loose-hipped boyfriends. And matchless by far beside the other white tourists, all of whom were various hues of boiled lobster from the earlier sun. Yet he did not seem to notice this incongruity. And he moved nearly as well as the surrounding revellers, after all, even if his eyes remained aloof and those delicate lips and carved cheeks never warmed beyond the faintest pink.
The last of the deep pinks and tequila golds faded from the sky. It had been blazing bright when Thor downed his first glass in the air-conditioned comfort of a homely little pub. He was now, unsurprisingly, quite thoroughly sloshed. But being the sort of person who was born to drink others under the table, he was also quite capable of making his way through the crowd while looking no more than pleasantly buzzed.
He was also feeling very rash. And so he did something he could not, even in the sober light of the next day, bring himself to regret.
The element of surprise was his for a mere second: he made the most of it. One arm shot out to grab the pale young man and pull him in for a sloppy kiss. He heard, faintly, the outraged sounds of protest, the delicate lips baring teeth that tried to bite him. With another hand he pulled a fistful of the wavy black hair. He felt like an animal; he hated himself, or would in the morning. Now he was pushing his prey against a wall, pushing up the clingy tank top, molesting a pert nipple.
“What’s your name, pretty thing?” he found himself growling. Was that his voice? How ugly it was! And lovers told him all the time he was beautiful. No, this here –this was beauty: precious, fine-boned, a rare pink deepening on those pale cheeks, hard and soft all at once.
“I’m not giving you my name,” the creature hissed. A highborn voice, British, clipped at the edges. “I’m not giving you anything.” Then he spat into Thor’s right eye.
Thor only laughed and clamped his hand over those small, shapely lips – they felt like soft petals against his palm – while pinning down the thrashing limbs. “My fair little English rose,” he murmured. He moved to close entirely the gap between their bodies. Pressed the curve of his burgeoning arousal between those slender thighs, and started to grind to the beat of the street musicians’ merry rhythm. “I wonder how my cock would look with your prim little mouth wrapped around it.”
A muffled string of doubtlessly colourful words greeted this remark. “But then, you’re not so prim, are you?” He reached down to squeeze a thigh. “Come on, babe. Move those hips like you moved them just now. I know what you’re capable of.”
As he continued his grinding movements, the glacier began to melt: eyelids flickering like moths, fierce grunts becoming moans that might signal trepidation, or submission, need – who knew? He felt the resistant exterior softening beneath his hands and his body.
“Can I let you go now? Or is this what you want…to be pinned down and fucked rough against a wall? Hmm?”
The English rose had no reply to this. But he did manage to free one leg to kick at Thor’s groin; he missed, just barely, but it was enough for the hand on his mouth to loosen a little. Thor felt the sting of teeth; then his quarry was gone, slipping like an eel from beneath him to disappear into the night.
He looked at the crescent of blood on his palm, smiled blearily, and ordered another drink.
~
Loki wanted to puke. To throw up his insides till he was empty and clean, till he stopped shaking with that dreaded Molotov cocktail of terror and want that set him aflame every time, and reduced him to a shambles after. His limbs gave way even as his grip tightened on the sink in anticipation of the rising bile in his gut. He collapsed onto the bathroom floor of his budget hotel room and forced long, deep breaths through his lungs.
To be so used was nothing new to him. If anything, it reminded him too sorely of what he missed. That which was bad for him was precisely what he found himself clinging to, time and time again. As he stared blankly at the ugly pale-pink tiles, the faces of previous lovers (if love ever had entered into the equation) smirked like ghosts of Christmas past in his head. Victor, as ruthless as he was rich. Mephisto, to whom he had lost a bet and ended up giving away more than his ass. Amora, whom he now suspected had spiked his drink on their first date.
And wild Svadilfari – a god of a man who smelt of the ocean. Perhaps the kindest of them all, who had done nothing more than love and leave him. Whose electric eyes and long mane he had encountered tonight in the body of another, and just barely succeeded in refusing.
Or had he?
Loki wouldn’t know a normal relationship if it wiggled its butt beneath his nose. But he did know what he liked.
And he also knew he would never find peace for the rest of his vacation unless he hunted down that blond, blue-eyed scum – and begged to be fucked within an inch of his life.
~
Thor awoke to the sting of midday heat and the sound of someone laughing at his drunkenly sprawled body, which was occupying an outdoor public bench in the most awkward way possible. He was not drunk anymore – but he did feel wrung out, empty, and needing a warm shower badly. And then an army’s worth of hangover food.
He grinned back at the lean young man and his chortling friends, who had “Look at this dumbass gringo” written over their faces. Even the act of moving his facial muscles hurt right now. He dug his hands into his pockets, and wondered if they had been empty before he passed out. Good thing he hadn’t had much cash to begin with. Or if he had, he’d spent most of it on booze.
There was a faint sting when his hand brushed the hem of his pants. He raised his palm to see a small scabbed curve, flecked with bits of dried blood, and raised an eyebrow at the memorable encounter. If only he could recall more of that face!
But there was nothing to be done about it. He had more immediate concerns, such as the utter absence of a single coin, or anything he could have bought a ride with. He. had no choice but to leg it back to the hotel, a nice place where the four-star service was at odds with the questionable furnishings: a battle of mid-century Ikea knockoffs and garishly painted traditional wooden pieces. He had chosen it largely for its proximity to a string of watering holes. And made good use of it, too.
It was only when he was at the door of his room that he realised his wallet was missing. “God damn.” He checked all his pockets again. “I’ll be fucked.”
“That’s the problem with you white frat-boy tourists. Thinking the world owes you a fuck where you go.”
The cool, crisp voice cut through his hangover haze. He turned to see the English rose standing several feet away, at once fleshly and unreachable. The man looked, if possible, more stunning than ever: freshly washed dark hair falling in loose waves around the glacial face where the only trace of colour was that soft pink bloom at the centre of his lips. Thor realised he must look like shit in comparison. Probably smelled like it too.
“I see you can’t get enough of me,” he said, his flippant tone a lousy defence against the sudden, simultaneous rush of blood to his head and his loins.
The delicate lips twisted downward, then up again. Slim white fingers produced, with the air of a magician, his missing wallet from the pocket of those fashionably ripped jeans that showed off flashes of knee and sinuous thigh.
“So you’re a good thief as well as a great dancer.” Thor reached for the wallet, only to have it snatched away in a graceful move. “Though you don’t need to be that good to take advantage of a drunk target.”
“I believe it was you taking all the advantage, brute,” he hissed. For what you did, you deserve to lose more than your wallet.”
“Hmmm. And yet here you are. Assuming you haven’t already emptied it, what do you want from me?”
“I want to know what makes you such an asshole. It’s a pity – fine-looking as you are.” The cold green eyes ran up and down his body, at once disdainful and appraising. Despite his heavy head and gnawed-out stomach, Thor couldn’t help but read between the lines. The beautiful stranger had not tailed him with the noble intention of returning his wallet. It was not too hard to guess what his real purpose was.
Thor swiped his keycard (which, thankfully, had been in a separate pocket from his cash) and with the other hand grabbed the man’s slender wrist and pulled him into the room, pushing the door close before he could cry out.
“You brute!” His captive struggled, but nowhere near as hard as he should have. Thor threw him onto the bed, pinned him down by straddling his legs – pushing those firm, delicious thighs apart – and pushing up his t-shirt to feast his eyes on a perfectly lithe torso and pert nipples the same hue as the centre of his rose-petal lips.
He bent to lick those nipples, and the thrashing turned into a series of violent shivers. He could feel the man’s struggles weaken against the weight of his built frame. “Monster,” came a ragged moan against his cheek. He took that tempting mouth into his, pushing the lips open with his own, not relenting until they began, finally, to kiss back.
“You still won’t tell me your name,” he rasped, as breathless as his victim.
“What will you do if I don’t?’ came the goading reply.
Thor felt a slightly maniacal grin tug at his mouth as he pulled off the fitting black jeans, relishing the fierce battle that ensued until those legs were completely bare and he was free to tease the edge of the tight briefs clinging to exquisite hips that bore a faint trace of bruises, purple fading to light brown.
“Who did this to you, baby?”
“I’m not your baby.”
“Well, I have to call you something.” Thor pulled him by his hair into a kneeling position as he freed his cock and stroked it. “Unless you want to give me another name.”
He got a stony glare in return. “No? Silence? I guess you’re eager to use your mouth for something else then.”
The glare did not lose its intensity, but the green eyes flickered to the swell of his sex with its glistening head, and Thor saw a flash of hunger. He renewed his grip on the black wavy hair and pushed the clamped-shut mouth against his groin – which, as he had suspected, gasped open almost reflexively. Before he could meet with further objection, he pushed the head of his cock past the parted lips, drowning out further protests by filling that small, tight mouth completely. God, but it was perfect. Who knew those poised, sneering lips hid such warm inviting depths?
“Is this what you were after for, then?”
“Mmmmffh. Nnnggffhh!” Such delicious sounds. Thor was determined to hear more of them.
As he began to thrust in and out, hands pushed and clawed at his thighs until he took firm hold of them, aroused at how the slim wrists fit nicely in his one hand, so that his other was free to dictate the movements of the head with its clean silky hair that would likely be soiled before this encounter was over. He stood flush against the edge of the bed and took delight in the strange helplessness of this beautiful creature whose knees dug into the mattress and who seemed all too willing to take him despite a pretence of struggle.
Those defiant eyes meeting his began to flutter and falter as his cock breached the throat at the end of the warm wet mouth. He knew he would soon suffocate his new acquaintance if he did not stop. Yet it was hard to stop; Thor felt positively dizzy with pleasure. His animal urge made him want to milk every last iota of bliss with no regard for any need but his own.
“Mmmhh,” came a plea for a much-needed breath. Surrender, at last. He pulled out and savoured the choked gasps of his captive, the fine string of pre-come bridging the tip of his sex and the bottom of a flushed pink lip.
“Your name,” he demanded.
“L-Loki,” came the admittance of defeat. “My name is Loki.”
“A lovely name.” He cupped Loki’s chin almost tenderly. “Now, Loki. Let me finish giving you what you chased me down for.”
“But…I – nnnuggghh!” His mouth was reclaimed before he could object. Thor locked his head back in place, this time fucking his face in earnest, rocking his hips almost violently. Tears spilled from Loki’s eyes as he was made to choke on that girth – the smell of unwashed groin mingling with the heady musk of male sex filling his every sense, deep-throating him as relentlessly as anything he’d ever been subject to. Thor felt his basest urges overcome him again. Loki was a dream straight from a porno: pretty as hell while choking on a cock. He thrust in ruthlessly a few more times before withdrawing right on the edge of orgasm.
“Keep your mouth open,” he ordered. Loki seemed to know what was coming; he closed his eyes a second before the gush of warm seed splashed his face and the insides of his obediently parted lips.
“Good boy.” He waited for Loki to recover his breath before wiping off the streaks of come and feeding it to him. “Here. Help me clean you up, baby.”
“I’m not your baby,” came the half-hearted dissent. Loki sucked at his fingers anyway. He ate up everything Thor gave him, including the remnants of spend from Thor’s softening cock. What a different creature he was from the one who had so fiercely rejected him! But again, perhaps not that different. His resistance had ever been frayed at the edges, always letting a bit of Thor in, fighting only so he could melt into submission in some strange game Thor could not fully understand, but fully enjoyed.
Besides, for all he played at rape, his own cock stood fully erect. His hand slid down to jerk himself off, but Thor stopped him. He hissed.
“Don’t be so defensive,” said Thor with a smile. “I wasn’t intending to leave you blue-balled and hot for me.”
“I’m not – ” Loki’s next words fell away in whines of pleasure as Thor steadily brought him to release, splashing silver streaks across his taut belly. Thor fed it to him. He lapped it up without objection.
Thor pressed a sloppy kiss to his neck, then fell back on the bed, utterly contented – at least for now. He watched Loki dress and wondered if he should test his luck by asking for a hotel address. He decided, instead, to mention where he would be the following night. “In case you’ve need for any company,” he added.
This information was met with a sound of derision. Loki left without so much as a glance back, albeit not quite as haughtily as he had appeared.
There was hope yet.
~
Loki contemplated burning the t-shirt and jeans that he imagined were infused with the smell of Thor Odinson – his sweat, his spunk, the staleness of a string of bars. He would have felt even more disgust with himself for tracking down the man with some help from the wallet’s ID. But then Loki had very low expectations of himself by now. At least when it came to sating his dark appetites.
He threw the clothes aside, showered again, and spent an inordinate amount of time blow-drying his hair. It was something he had always found therapeutic.
Forget him. He increased the blower’s power, drowning his thoughts in the roar.
Stop throwing yourself into every hurricane you come across.
He pulled the brush through his hair, carefully following the flow of his natural wave.
You can only invite danger so many times before it causes damage you can’t repair.
He wondered what Thor Odinson was capable of. Just how far he would go, how rough he could play.
You were thinking it, weren’t you, when you felt his eyes on you that night, twisting and swaying to keep his eyes on you?
He concentrated on the heat and the roar of the dryer and refused to answer his own question.
Loki spent the rest of the day in the city, drowning himself in music and culture and coffee, sampling the strangest most random edibles he could find, documenting everything for his growing YouTube travelogue channel. For dinner he tucked himself into a cosy corner of a colourful diner, ordered one of everything off the menu, and shot a mukbang-style video of himself devouring as much as he could until he was full enough to throw up. It was the kind of thing that would almost certainly hook him a handful more subscribers.
Then he walked and walked and walked until his legs threatened to give way before hailing a ride back to his inn. He considered having a drink or two. But then the unreasonable anxiety of encountering another potential predator – drunk, forceful, built like a mountain – made him queasy. He considered rescinding his plans to visit a well-known watering hole tomorrow. But it was a decent establishment, not known for attracting the wrong sort of foreigner out for a good time. It should be fine.
He should be fine.
Tired as he was, it was a long time before he finally fell asleep to dark amorphous dreams he would not recall the next day, save for a lingering feeling of fear and arousal and an all-consuming hunger.
~
Thor had made a gem of a discovery, and it was all due to pure chance.
He had been absently scrolling through Facebook while brushing his teeth, when he stumbled upon a very familiar face on a video shared by a foodie friend. He hit the sound icon so hard he nearly dropped the phone.
It was him – that glacial beauty, that cool crisp voice, a little warmer than usual as it delivered some wonderfully sarcastic commentary over a plate of what looked like fried tentacles. “Moment of truth, here we come,” said on-screen Loki as he fetched one of the tentacles with flawlessly wielded chopsticks and slid it into his mouth. The sight was nothing short of erotic. At least to Thor. He doubted he was the only one who appreciated Loki’s looks, though. The man probably had thousands of followers. And now he’d just gained a new one.
Trying not to dribble toothpaste foam onto the screen, Thor tapped on the link to the YouTube channel and hit Subscribe.
He spat, rinsed, gargled, then leisurely masturbated to one of Loki’s other videos in which he was wearing a tantalizingly tight pair of shorts and a cropped t-shirt that kept flashing slivers of pale midriff. He imagined pulling those shorts down and fondling that tight ass, pushing up that slutty crop top, pinning Loki down and fucking him till he cried, then sliding a finger into that hot wet mouth that was as good as the best pussy he had ever had, if not better. With a groan he came all over his hand; eyes closed to savour that last image in his mind as he lazily stroked himself till he was completely soft again.
He was about to close the window – he hadn’t travelled all the way to spend his time in a hotel room, tempting though it was to watch all of Loki’s videos – when a little red dot appeared that signalled a new video upload.
His heart skipped a beat. The opening scenes showed Loki strolling down a street just a five-minute walk from his hotel. This was not one of his sharply edited travelogues but raw uncut video, a brief teaser of what was to come. Its feeling of live immediacy made him aroused all over again.
Then the teaser clip threw him an unexpected bone. Loki was telling his viewers the name and location of a famous cantina he was frequenting the next night. This night, to be precise. Thor felt strangely light in the stomach. The stupid smile of a boy on his first school crush spread across his face. He knew exactly what his plans were after eight o’clock this evening.
~
The deep pink sugar crystals on his frozen melon margarita were the height of Instagram-worthy. Loki must have taken twenty photos and two videos before finally sampling the goods. It was even better than he expected.
The small delight he felt at the icy tart sweetness went up in smoke when a familiar bulk slid into the booth beside him and threw a huge arm around him, landing a kiss on his cheek. “Miss me?”
Loki sputtered, stunned for a few good seconds before pushing Thor away vehemently. “Get out!” He kicked out at the man’s shins for good measure. “How dare you…?”
“What? My cock was in your mouth, and now I can’t even kiss you?”
He opened his mouth to deliver a stinging retort, but then Thor’s hand was on his thigh, electric on his bare skin (he was wearing his favourite cutoffs), squeezing in a way that made his mouth dry and his heart pound. He took a long sip of his margarita, hoping brain freeze would still the darker appetites Thor’s presence inevitably awakened.
“Go. Away.”
“You say that, but I’ll bet you’re hard for me.”
“Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a bad erotic novel. Not even an amusingly bad one; just banal. Get your fucking hands off m – ” He was cut short by his own sharp inhalation when Thor palmed him, finding his cock had betrayed him after all.
“Knew it.” That sunny smile was infuriating. In a fit of frustration, he grabbed a glass of water and threw its contents in Thor’s face. But in doing so he also knocked a quarter of pink melon ice onto his shirt.
“Fuck!”
“You’re so pretty when you swear – ”
Loki slapped him hard across the face then, the resounding thwack loud enough to draw the attention of several diners. Not that he cared. He leapt up, somehow crossing Thor’s broad lap without stumbling in an undignified way, and marched to the bathroom.
The place was empty, thank the gods. He needed the space to himself to think and to still his ridiculously pounding heart. He tried to calm himself by focusing all his energy on getting the stain out of the white shirt. The video log he had been planning was dashed now. “I hope you’re happy in your attempts to ruin my life, Thor Odinson,” he hissed.
“It was never my intention to ruin anything,” came a reply. He looked up to see that cursed, blue-eyed, handsome face in the mirror. “In fact, I was hoping we could pick up where we left off.”
“You can hope all you want, and jerk off to it too.” Loki continued to scrub at the pale pink stain, stopping only when he heard a sinister click. He turned around to see Thor had locked the door.
“What are you – ” He felt a hand on his back, tender for a split second, then forceful as it pushed him down so his cheek was pressed against the faux marble of the sink. Another hand pulled down his shorts and underwear as he struggled, panic mingling with a frightening animal lust deep in his gut. “Don’t,” he managed to choke out.
“Don’t what? Don’t give you what you want?” Thor’s palm teased his erection, and he let loose a moan before he could bite it back
“You can’t,” he whimpered. “Not here.”
“No one can come in at the moment. And I’ll be quick. But not too quick.” His behind was slapped lightly. There was the sound of a tube being popped open. With one hand pinning him down – he couldn’t believe how strong this guy was – the other began working him open. He gasped as one, then two fingers penetrated him.
“Stop…aahh!”
“Are you a virgin?”
“That’s n-none of your business!”
“Come on, baby. You don’t need to hide anything. I just want to know if I should be gentle with you. Though I know you also like it rough.” The fingers curled inside him, and he moaned. “Hmm?”
“You’re nothing but a frat-boy thug, and I hope you rot.”
By the time Thor was three fingers in, he could no longer deny the heat in his loins – and the pre-come dripping from his hard cock. He hated his body for doing this to him. For doing what it had always done.
When that thick cock finally breached him, he gasped despite having anticipated the burn. But it soon melted into something much more pleasurable – shockingly ecstatic, really. Even wild, gorgeous Svadilfari had not ploughed him with this much skill. Each thrust drove him over the edge; each time Thor plunged back in it made him see stars. He soon found himself unable to hold back his raw cries. Thor had to clamp a firm hand over his mouth to silence him. The palm smelt faintly of soap, and of something musky and arousing, overwhelming his senses. Quite unlike their first meeting when the man had been swimming in the smell of beer and cigarette smoke.
Goddamn, but he was attractive as all hell when he was actually clean. And Loki knew this to be bad for him.
He sobbed with bliss when Thor came into him, when a hand on his flushed leaking cock brought it to relief and left him weak and boneless. Then he was collapsing right into Thor’s arms. They held him steadily; their bulk felt right around his slender frame. Even if everything about this situation was wrong.
After a moment he steadied himself against the sink, pushed Thor away. “Leave me.”
Thor, as usual, ignored his demands. Instead he tore off a bunch of paper towels, dampened them beneath the tap, and proceeded to clean Loki up with surprising tenderness. Loki could not help but quiver and arch ever so slightly into his attentive touch.
“Are you happy now?” he said in a brittle voice. “You’ve broken me down, had your way with me. What else do you want?”
The soft swipes of the paper towels paused for a second. “Nothing.”
“Then go away.”
The impudent blue eyes were serious for once. “Do you mean that?”
He swallowed, willing his tongue to move.
“Look at me, and say it again. And I promise I’ll walk away.” Thor leaned in so that his warm breath tickled Loki’s earlobe. “Tell me to fuck right off. Like you mean it.”
“Fuck – ” Loki’s breath got stuck in his throat. Without even realising it, his hand was snaking up to grab Thor’s collar. He was never sure who pulled in who first. He knew only that their lips collided at the same time, hungry mouths wanting only each other’s.
Thor lifted him bodily with no effort onto the sink and moved in to close the gap between them, so that he was sitting on the cool countertop with his legs spread around the other man’s bulk.
“You’re going to have to properly tell me no at some point,” said Thor. “I know I’ve been a jerk. And I’m sorry…I just….nnfff!” He grunted in delight when he felt the curve of Loki’s push into him, firm again despite the passing of mere minutes. “I just can’t help myself around you. Though I’ll try.”
“Try later,” Loki breathed into his neck.
“Anything you want, baby.”
“I’m not your…ohhhhhh, Thor.”
* * *