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a bitter form of refuge

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Thor Laufeyson, King of Jotunheim, strode into his throne room with a gust of freezing wind, leaving his courtiers rattling in his wake. The moons of the Bracing were high and rising, the Aesir had retreated to their golden realm with their tails tucked between their legs, and Thor’s appetite was waxing as Jotunheim’s winter descended upon them.

“My liege.” The slave trader bowed low, only straightening when Thor grunted his assent.

In a line in front of the throne, six slaves knelt. Thor set his gaze upon each of them in turn, taking in their naked bodies and gaunt faces. They were all beautiful, pale and dark-haired. Thor’s preferences were well-known. Two had the pointed ears of elves. One looked close to passing out. Probably Midgardian, which didn’t interest him. He was here to find a bedmate that wouldn’t break at his touch, but all of them looked beaten and broken down, flowers wilting at the onslaught of frost.

Except—the one at the end turned his head upwards, only for a moment, and Thor smiled as he felt that angry, burning gaze upon him. He sauntered over slowly, watching the slave stiffen as he neared.

“That one is Aesir, my lord,” the slave trader said, trying to be helpful.

Thor nodded, waving a hand to stop any further drivel. It explained the bitterness, laughable as it was. It was not Thor’s fault this slave’s people were weak, cowardly half-things, running away from the very realm they attempted to gain through conquest.

He reached out and jerked the slave’s chin upwards, his grin dropping as he got a good look at him.

A dark, angry bruise marred almost the entire half of the slave’s face.

“You bring me damaged merchandise,” Thor rumbled softly. He turned the slave’s face left and right. High cheekbones, pale skin, and his eyes, which defiantly met Thor’s, were green.

“M-my lord,” the trader stammered. He licked his lips, over and over as he explained. “He’s a disobedient one, it’s true. We were near the palace when he tried to escape and had to be subdued.”

“Then why present him to me?” Thor scoffed. He dropped the slave’s face and he turned his head down to stare at the floor.

The slave trader bowed low. “My lord, he, ah, he has some skills.”

“Spit it out,” Thor said.

“Show him, slave,” said the trader.

The slave didn’t respond.

The trader huffed, pulling a whip from his belt.

Thor sighed, holding his hand up to stop the man from damaging his property further.

He held his other arm out to the side, and a moment later Stormbreaker soared through the room and slammed into his palm. Thor set her on the ground and leaned over her great uru head at the slave, leering playfully.

“Would you like to lose an arm today, little one?”

At Thor’s words, the slave’s fists clenched.

“I’d rather lose my head, if it’s all the same to you.” Soft, imperious, only slightly tremulous.

The slave trader gaped, starting to stammer out an apology.

Thor laughed, taking Stormbreaker in his hand.

The slave barely flinched as her blade crashed into the space next to him, ruining millennia-old ice floors. Angrboda was going to have Thor’s ear for that one, but he was too pleased to care.

“Up,” Thor commanded.

The slave didn’t move, still staring at the ground.

“The king said up, you useless whore,” the slave trader gritted out, hand tightening around the whip. With a flick of his wrist, spikes of electricity sparked across the length of the leather braided thong. It was a cruel thing, Thor could see. He was almost impressed.

Before Thor could tell the man to stop, the trader was bringing the whip down. Thor moved faster, though, and caught the thong before it could land a blow.

Electricity surged through Thor’s body, and he hummed in pleasure with it. With a tug, he pulled the rest of the whip from the slaver’s shocked, slack hold, and dropped it to the floor. The slave did flinch this time. Scared of pain, but not of death. Thor could work with that.

“Enough of this,” Thor rumbled. He reached down to grasp the slave’s head by the hair, and pulled him up to stand.

“Show me,” Thor commanded, twisting the strands of hair in his fist. He thought the slave was going to disobey him again—what a waste that would be—but, slowly, something began to happen.

Pale flesh was washed blue. Jotun blue. Thor used his grip on the slave’s head to tilt his head up—and, ah, those were red, baleful Jotun eyes. It was almost disgusting, to have an Aesir cur wear the skin of Thor’s people. But he could tell the shift was not mere glamour, but a full transformation. An interesting skill for a slave to have.

“A shapeshifter, my lord,” the slave trader said breathlessly, seemingly having found his bearings again. “He’s a talented one. Good performer too, very entertaining—”

“Did you give yourself a cunt?” Thor asked, dragging his eyes down between the slave’s legs. There was a cock there, limp and slender, but what lay beneath was unseen. When there was no response, Thor reached down himself, pressing the slave’s cock aside to find—

The slave whimpered, knees knocking together as Thor rubbed a dry finger around his opening. A shapeshifting slave was an interesting thing indeed, but Thor had other priorities.

Thor withdrew his hand, only to press two fingers to the slave’s lips.

“Suck, if you know what’s good for you,” Thor ordered.

“Stubborn,” Thor sighed, when the slave refused to obey. Casually, he wrapped a hand around the slave’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until finally the thing gasped for air, and Thor stuffed two fingers into his mouth.

The hall was silent but for the slick sounds of Thor fucking his fingers down the slave’s throat, which convulsed against Thor’s hold around his neck.

When Thor bullied two fingers into the slave’s cunt, the thing finally broke, heaving out a desperate sob and shaking his head frantically. His hands scrabbled ineffectually at Thor’s arm.

“Wet and tight,” Thor said, nodding. “Shift back. I want to fuck an Aesir whore.”

There was no resistance this time. The slave took a shuddering breath, and pale skin began to take over the blue.

“Keep the cunt,” Thor said, and the slave bit his lip, but obeyed.

Thor thrust his fingers in and out of the slave’s cunt for good measure, then pulled away. The Aesir almost fell to his knees, but righted himself before he fell.

“What’s your name?” Thor asked.

The slave swayed, but doesn’t reply until Thor laid a hand, buzzing with electricity, on his shoulder.

“Loki,” the slave bit out.

“Just Loki?” Thor asked.

“Whores don’t have kin,” Loki said, voice hollow. It made sense, Thor thought. He didn’t have the constitution of a soldier. There was only one other reason he would be here, plucked from the battlefield to serve in Thor’s palace.

“A camp whore,” Thor mused. “The Aesir are barbarians to enslave their own kind.”

Loki grit his teeth but didn’t speak.

Thor gestured to his soldiers. “You lot can have your pick of the others.”

He pulled Loki close with a hand on the side of his neck. Almost gentle, now, compared to his earlier treatment.

“I’ll be taking this one for myself.”


Loki tried to keep his breathing in check as Thor led him away from the throne room. His heart was beating too loud in his chest, blood pounding in his ears. His eyes were blurry from tears that he fought hard not to shed—and his—his cunt—it ached from the earlier rough treatment. It throbbed with each step, a constant reminder of what was in store for him.

Damn the Jotun, and damn this asinine, foolish, ruinous war.

Loki stumbled on unsteady feet, Thor largely uncaring, his hand still slung around Loki’s neck.

Finally, they reached a set of large doors, hewn from ice, as was everything else in this Norns-forsaken place. Loki could barely feel his feet from the cold. The Jotun, it seemed, went barefoot at all times. His shoes had been taken from him as soon as they reached the palace, along with the rest of his clothes.

Thor pushed the doors open, then dragged Loki on through.

It was freezing. Loki could see his breath clouding in front of him. The journey from the camp to the palace had been rough, but Loki had been allowed clothes then, Aesir clothes, spelled for warmth by the All-mother’s handmaidens themselves. A half hour inside the palace had driven all the warmth from Loki’s bones and he found himself giving in to the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

“Are you trying to hide yourself?” Thor asked, sounding amused.

“I’m cold,” Loki snapped. Cold and miserable enough to be insolent in the face of the monster who clearly had no qualms about hurting him. Who had violated him, and who clearly meant to rape Loki again and again, as much as he liked, and without remorse.

He shut his eyes as Thor drew closer, waiting for a strike to the face, or another choking grip around his throat.

He was unprepared for the warm fur that cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. Greedily, he pulled the material tight around himself, looking up to meet his captor’s eyes.

The Laufeyson was observing him curiously.

“I’ll have my mages fix up a spell to keep you warm,” Thor said.

“How very kind of you,” Loki said, voice dripping with scorn.

“You’ll learn to be grateful for it, little whore,” Thor says, smug now.

Loki clenched his jaw, tearing the cape off of him and forcing his frozen legs over to the large, opulent bed that stood at the end of the room.

Plush fur and luscious pillows met his sore body as he lay himself on Thor’s bed.

“I don’t know know what you’re waiting for,” Loki said, loud, turning himself on his belly and raising his ass in the air. His hair fell over his face and his eyes were burning again. He squeezed the beddings in his fists.

“Fuck me,” Loki whispered under his breath. “Fucking get it over with.”

He heard Thor sigh from behind him, the sound reminding him of the icy winds that used to howl through the Aesir war camp.

For the second time, the cape was draped over him, and a large hand forced Loki’s head to the side to meet Thor’s amused gaze.

“I don’t actually have the time to spare fucking whores all day,” Thor said. His fingers dug into Loki’s head, scratching his scalp like he was some sort of cat.

Loki stared after Thor as the Jotun turned to the side of the bed, rummaging for something in the side table.

“Must be very difficult for you to have to prioritize between slaughter or rape everyday,” Loki said, as acerbic as he could force through his chattering teeth.

Thor snorted at that, turning to show Loki what he’d found.

Loki’s mouth went dry at the sight. It was a large dildo, transparent as glass and pure ice, with runes carved into it side. Loki couldn’t read them, but he had an inkling of what they were meant for.

“If you want to be fucked so bad,” Thor said, waving the frozen cock tauntingly, “this will have to suffice for now.”

Loki said nothing, and remained silent when Thor pushed him flat on his back with one large hand on his chest. Lying down like this, Loki could fully take in how much bigger Thor was, his one hand spanning half of Loki’s chest. Thor forced himself between Loki’s legs, spreading them so far apart that his thighs began to ache at the stretch.

“Welcome to your new life,” Thor said with a smile.

Loki turned his face to the side.

“None of that now,” Thor murmured, dragging the pads of his fingers against Loki’s nipples, which had hardened in the cold. With his other hand, he gathered Loki’s senseless arms and dragged them on top of his head. Weakly, Loki tried to tug free, but Thor held him fast with barely any effort, his fingers sending sharp jolts of pleasure down Loki’s groin as he toyed with Loki’s aching nipples.

Loki sobbed, drawing in an overwhelmed breath through rattled lungs. Pinned and spread open, his helplessness became almost impossible to swallow down. He could feel Thor’s monstrous cock nudging against his cock and cunt and ass all at once, and he wanted to scream.

He opened his mouth—and Thor slid the dildo between his lips, forcing his tongue down and scraping his teeth.

“Suck,” Thor ordered. “Or it’s going in dry.”

Loki sucked.

Thor pressed Loki’s wrists into the bedding in a clear order to keep them there, and Loki felt helpless to obey. He could hardly move from the position Thor left him in.

Thor wrapped his free hand around Loki’s cock. Loki’s teeth knocked into the dildo—it seemed to be made of some flexible, supple wood, despite looking like ice—and he grit his jaw as his traitorous cock came to life, stirring and spitting in Thor’s hand.

“Not as uninterested as you like to pretend,” Thor mocked, fucking Loki’s mouth with the dildo as Loki’s cock fucked into his fist. He rubbed the pad of his thumb in lazy circles around the head of Loki’s cock, and Loki wailed, high and loud, breaking free from his position and sitting up, trying desperately to escape Thor’s touch.

“Oh, that’s not very nice,” Thor said, grabbing Loki’s flailing hands and wrestling him down to the bed again. He began to slide the dildo into Loki’s cunt. As new as his cunt was, Loki knew it wouldn’t fit.

No,” Loki cried, “stop, don’t!”

The head of the cock popped into his cunt, and Loki cried out again, struggling wildly.

“It’s not—I’m not wet enough—don’t—” Loki’s voice was shrill with panic.

“Please !!” Loki cried, finally. “Please—I’m notplease. M-master. Master, please, please. ” He dissolved into sobs, entire body gone rigid with fear.

Thor smiled indolently, tugging the head of the dildo out of Loki’s aching cunt.

Loki curled into himself, mind gone blank, shaking apart.

“I thought you were a camp whore,” Thor mused. “But that’s not what you are, is it?”

Loki breathed hard, shutting his eyes tight.

“Tell me, little pet,” Thor murmured.

“I—my father brought me to camp,” Loki whispered, after taking in a deep, stuttering breath. “I’m his youngest son. Skilled with, with seidr, but not much else. He thought I could be useful. When the Jotun attacked—” he swallowed, clenching his teeth.

“You’ve never been touched,” Thor said, dragging a hand down Loki’s shaking side.

Loki shook his head mutely.

Thor dug his hand into Loki’s hip, squeezing hard. “Don’t ever lie to me again, Loki,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispered miserably. “I thought—I thought I’d be more pleasing to you if—” Loki choked. If Thor didn’t want him, he’d be given to Thor’s soldiers, and then he really would become a camp whore. Yet here he was, snivelling like a child in Thor’s bed. A disappointment in whatever he did, like his father always said.

“I like you well enough,” Thor said, resuming the long, slow strokes along Loki’s side. His nails scratched gently down Loki’s back and Loki ached to lean up into the touch. Norns, it had been so long since was touched like this.

Thor’s kindness didn’t last long, however, and soon his hand was wandering down between Loki’s legs again, spreading the lips of his cunt with two fingers.

Loki reached down blindly and covered Thor’s hand with his own.

“Please,” he whispered. “I—let me, let me slick your fingers.”

“Oh, so you can be good,” Thor laughed softly.

Loki took a deep breath, then sat up, reaching for Thor’s hand. He brought Thor’s fingers to his mouth, pressing small kisses to the blue skin, strangely warm despite being born of Jotunheim’s harsh climate. Before Thor could get impatient, Loki opened his mouth wide around two of his digits, suckling them down to the last knuckle.

Thor hummed, letting Loki lave and lick at his digits.

When spit was dribbling down Thor’s wrist, Loki guided that hand back into his cunt.

“Please,” he whispered.

Thor laughed again, and began to lazily fuck his wet, slick fingers into Loki’s cunt. For a long moment, Loki lost himself to the feeling of Thor’s fingers moving inside him, fucking him open and making him wet, wetter. He could feel slick on his thighs, his cock hard and dripping on his stomach.

It was so much. The feeling of being fucked and filled was wholly new, and impossible to escape. Every push of Thor’s insistent fingers inside him made Loki whimper, his toes curling into the bed. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. When Thor wrapped a hand around his cock and began to pump him in time with the movement of his fingers inside him, Loki keened, reaching up to cover his face as his hips began to move into Thor’s touch. Hearing the loud, high-pitched noises spilling from his own mouth was humiliating, but he couldn’t stop.

He breathed raggedly, fucking himself on Thor’s fingers, cleaving open to his captor’s whim, and fucking up into Thor’s fist, lost completely to the pleasure.

He choked when Thor pulled his fingers away, and the forgotten dildo was splitting him open for a second time. This time, it glided in with little resistance, helped along by the greedy clenching of Loki’s desperate cunt. It fucked into him, deeper and deeper, until Loki was trembling on his back with his legs splayed wide open, twitching around a dildo in his fresh, newly-fucked cunt.

Thor released Loki’s cock with a satisfied grunt.

“I quite like you like this,” Thor said, thumbing Loki’s lips. “Now come suck my cock before I have to meet my war council.”

Loki blinked, overwhelmed and flushed, still shaking from need, and opened his mouth for Thor’s cock.

Thor was strangely patient and gentle, cradling Loki’s head in one hand as Loki clumsily and senselessly suckled on the head of Thor’s cock, heavy and leaking in his mouth.

Just as Loki expected Thor to force his cock down Loki’s throat, the Jotun pulled out, jerking himself off with a few long strokes, and came across Loki’s face. Sticky spend dripped down Loki’s cheeks and mouth, and all of the sudden Loki couldn’t breathe. Tears spilled from his eyes and he clenched his teeth to keep from sobbing out loud.

“You’ll grow used to it,” Thor said, reaching out to pinch at Loki’s nipples again. The sharp mix of pleasure and pain jolted Loki out of his miserable crying fit. Then Thor reached down and touched the base of the dildo, and it came to life with a slightly electric, buzzing sensation. Loki jerked, cry after overwhelmed cry forced from his throat as he came. His orgasm washed over him in dizzying waves, and it seemed to go on forever, his body tightening and spasming around the dildo as it vibrated without a care inside him. Every clench caused pleasure and the coursing pleasure made him clench tighter, in a helpless cycle.

Loki could have kissed Thor’s feet in gratitude when the Jotun king finally reached between Loki’s trembling legs and turned the dildo down. As it was, he could only twitch and whine, the noises torn unbidden from his throat.

“You’re very pretty like this,” Thor murmured, stroking the insides of Loki’s thighs while Loki stared dazedly at the wall across the room, panting like a man nearly drowned.

Loki didn’t respond, only buried his face in Thor’s sheets, trying to ignore the slick mess between his legs and the throbbing ache of his ruined cunt.

Then Thor slipped something around his neck and clicked it shut, making Loki’s heart spike with alarm.

“Can’t have a shapeshifter wandering my halls with his seidr unchecked, no matter how prettily he spreads his legs,” Thor said, laying hand on Loki’s ass and groping him brazenly.

Before he left, Thor took Loki’s chin in his hand again, forcing Loki to meet his eyes.

“I expect some gratitude for the kindness I’ve shown you,” Thor said. His fingers dug into the side of Loki’s face.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered weakly.

Thor only waited expectantly, his red eyes boring into Loki.

“I’m grateful for your kindness, master,” Loki said, louder.

“Good,” Thor said, and let Loki go.

“Don’t take this out,” Thor said, his hands touching the base of the dildo, brushing against the swollen, sensitive folds of Loki’s cunt. “And don’t you dare touch yourself.” The command was followed by a sharp slap to Loki’s ass, making Loki squeal as the dildo jolted inside of him.

“Yes, master,” Loki whimpered miserably.

Thor hummed, dragging a hand down Loki’s side one last time, and left the room.

Loki kept his head bowed and listened for the door shutting closed, then strained to hear Thor’s footsteps going down the hall.

He gave himself a few, long moments to gather his wits and piece himself back together, sitting up on the bed and trying to ignore the dildo that ached dully inside of his cunt. He'd put on a good performance, he mused vaguely, though he hadn't had to fake the orgasm. How long was this thing going to stay in him? Thor was a cruel bastard. 

When he felt less like he was going to fly apart, he reached up, feeling for the collar around his neck. The material felt like leather, not quite so tight around Loki’s neck; he found that he could fit a finger underneath it. It sparked at his touch, absorbing the strand of seidr Loki fed it. It was well-made, probably the best that Thor’s mages could craft.

Loki slipped his finger under the collar and pulled a strand of cutting cold from the air. Skera, he mouthed, entertaining the satisfying vision of cutting Thor’s bollocks off with a blade, and the collar fell open, releasing him.

He took a deep breath, centering himself. He was in Jotunheim, utterly alone in the bedroom of his people’s greatest enemy. He felt battered, utterly spent, used, and Thor hadn’t even fucked him, not the way Loki knew he would in the days to come. He could run, now, before Thor defiled and humiliated him further, but he discarded that thought as quickly as it came. This was their chance to win the war, and Loki would not let his people and his father down.

He would have to keep playing the part of the virginal, weeping whore for some time yet. In the meantime, what were the chances that Thor kept important war documents inside his bedroom? 

Loki wrapped the collar around his neck and whispered a word to weave it back together.

He had work to do.