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A Playful Arrogance

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“How is your training coming along, dear?” Frigga asked Thor as the four of them sat at the dining table. Loki gave an amused little snort before returning to his soup. And so it begins, he thought.


Thor offered her a smile, a quietly self-satisfied one, his body moving in a loose, swaggering motion as he tore off a piece bread and leaned back lazily against the chair, popping the morsel in his mouth from a great enough distance that it might have resulted in applause had they been in an alehouse… but they were not in an alehouse, and while Loki might have been impressed, his brother's mouth was hardly a challenging target.


“You should ask my opponents from yesterday,” he replied, taking a long gulp of mead then setting his tankard down, “…Should they be discharged from the healers, of course,” he added with a raised eyebrow, and Loki shook his head, smiling. So cocky. Their mother must have felt the same, as she gave Thor a pointed stare, one that said: ‘careful now, darling’, but her silence suggested that it was not her that Thor was to be careful of.


“I heard of your victories,” Odin announced from the head of the table without looking up, his tone devoid of the admiration that his words might have implied. “One of your opponents was a soldier in training. A farming boy. I believe that the last sharp object he successfully wielded… was a rake.”


Loki sniggered into his spoon before his mother caught his eye in an expression of gentle warning.


Thor seemed unconcerned though, giving a shrug. “He was worthy. I would not have challenged him were he not.”


“Indeed he was,” Odin remarked, drinking from his goblet then roughly dabbing his beard with a cloth. “In fact, I believe he disarmed you. Twice.”


Ha! Oh, how he would have loved to have seen that! The Mighty Thor, relieved of his sword by a parsnip-puller. Twice, no less!


“He did. He was quick,” Thor agreed, appearing rather impressed, “but mostly,” he smirked, “he was lucky,” then reached his knife out to the butter and slathered it on his bread. “Of course, I won even so,” he continued, talking with his mouth full, “…Obviously. But he did have the great honour of sparring with me,” he finished with a grin.


Thor, you silly lump. This playful arrogance (and horrid table manners) was very typical of his brother, but he was forgetting his place and more importantly, his company. Loki glanced up at their father, attempting to gauge his mood. He couldn’t.


“You ‘won…even…so,’” Odin slowly repeated as if to clarify, pausing between each word for emphasis, finally meeting Thor’s bright, spirited eyes with a single dull-blue one. The atmosphere shifted and Loki could feel the air grow heavy with latent threat. Oooh Drama! “And is that your ambition? Hm?” Odin asked, “to win?” his mouth widening as he dragged out the last word.


Oh-ho, deary me. Thor was in trouble now! He could still save himself though, he just needed to give an answer that was thoughtful and respectful…


“Would you rather my ambition be to lose?” Thor scoffed with amusement.


Ha! Seriously Thor!? Oh, this was too good. He whipped his head up and looked at his mother with wide eyes as if to say: ‘Are you seeing this, Mother, are you seeing this!?' but Frigga politely returned to her dinner. This wasn’t going to end well, Loki knew it, but he was desperate to see what would happen next.


There was a long moment of silence and Loki’s eyes flitted quickly between the two of them as he held his breath.


“I would RATHER…!” Odin suddenly boomed, and Loki dropped his spoon, almost wetting himself, “…That your ambition was to be a king!” he roared, “And not an insolent, unprincipled, and vainglorious wretch!


The room fell silent.


Loki was frozen in his chair. Even he hadn’t expected things to go that far. Poor Thor.




Loki allowed his brother an hour of peace after dinner before creeping through the torch-lit corridors to his chambers. He knocked quietly on the door in their secret rhythm, and waited patiently. There was no sound of movement even though he knew Thor was in there, and for a moment, he thought that his presence would not be permitted at all.


Just then though, the heavy oak door creaked open a few inches and Thor’s face appeared in the gap - his blond hair wild and messy, most likely from roughly running his hand through it; his white shirt collar, peeking above his ox-blood, leather doublet, a little skewed, as though he had been pulling at it. Most people would have dismissed such minor details, but to Loki, they were obvious, and indicative of a frustration that was hardly surprising given the thorough lambasting he had received…


...and yet, his brother was smiling.


“Ah, Loki, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor asked merrily as he opened the door and let him in. Oddly merrily considering the circumstances, and with such formality, as though Loki were not his brother and bed partner, but an acquaintance that he met a few times a year at marriage and death ceremonies. “Do you wish to include me in your next mischievous scheme?” he continued, “I may consider your proposal so long as no ducks are involved this time.”


Loki stepped in and closed the door behind him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Actually, I had come to cheer you up, but it seems as though you don’t need it.”


“Cheer me up?” Thor queried, with the most exaggerated look of befuddlement Loki had ever seen, “Oh…I see. You are referring to Father’s little quibble about me at dinner,” he suggested, as though the idea had scarcely entered his mind, “Nothing to worry over.”


Loki stood there squinting in confusion, dumbfounded by Thor’s behaviour. “Quibble?” he repeated in disbelief, “He called you a ‘vainglorious wretch’, Brother, he didn’t complain about the soup.”


The reminder of their father’s words seemed to have an effect, and for a split second, a look of sadness flashed across Thor’s face, but it didn’t last, quickly remedied by a jovial grin. “It takes more than a few sharp words to wound me, you know,” he said, then reached out and mussed Loki’s hair, “I have long survived yours, after all,” he finished with a tease.


This was an act. One that, on reflection, was not wholly unfamiliar. When Loki himself was the target of such a verbal flaying from their father, he used to cry, nowadays he responded with haughty disapproval…before apologising. But Thor was different. And were it simply a matter of pride, his brother would have merely grumbled about it, but this show of airy indifference could only mean one thing - he was hurt. What had thrown Loki was the fact that Thor actually believed such an act would work on him: he who knew deception, he who knew lies, he who knew… Thor.


“I’m only saying that I wouldn’t blame you for being upset,” he offered honestly. “It was absolutely terrifying.”


Perhaps it was the understanding in his words or the subtle empathy in his voice, but something gave in Thor, and Loki watched as the forced smile began to dissolve. His brother finally let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders dipping. “It was… excessive,” he said, dejectedly, but at least sincerely.


“It was,” Loki agreed.


“...And completely unwarranted, I might add,” Thor continued with a little more fire, seemingly emboldened by the confirmation. And while Loki far preferred an affronted Thor over a fake one, he was pushing his luck with that remark.


“I said that I wouldn’t blame you for being upset, not that I didn’t blame you at all. You invited it with that dreadful attitude of yours,” he lectured, and noted the dynamic shifting between them. He felt bad. He hadn’t come here to tell him off.


“I was only playing…” Thor said with a sad smile, and it was so childlike and pitiful that Loki could feel his heart ache in sympathy. And Thor was right, he was just playing, mostly anyway; his brother may well be arrogant at times, but a lot of it was simply bravado.


“I know,” he replied softly.


Thor cheered up a little at that then folded his arms across his wide chest as he puffed it out, the tight leather of his doublet giving a faint squeak, “As did Mother, I believe. I would not, however, have expected her to defend me,” Thor said, raising his chin in mild indignation, “Though I did notice a distinct lack of support from you.”


Ha! What nerve! “Oh, Thor,” Loki giggled. “I am your brother. I am your lover. But I am not an idiot. And even if I had wanted to help you, I would have needed several days and a team of highly motivated moles to reach the bottom of that hole you dug yourself.”


Thor’s mouth straightened into a thin, unimpressed line. “Thank you Loki, your vivid explanation has successfully removed any ambiguity on the matter,” he said with delightful sarcasm. “Anyway, I thought you were here to cheer me up. I have seen better attempts.”


“I am. So don’t be glum, Big Brother,” he babied, reaching up to pinch Thor’s cheek until his hand was batted away, though it was mostly just a tactic to remove his brother’s crossed arms from his chest so that he could undress him - and it worked. He pulled lightly on the knot at the top of Thor’s doublet and began to undo the lacing with deft little fingers, chattering as he went.


“Father would take great pleasure in thinking you were here, brooding over it, you know,” he commented, pulling the cord through the last eyelet and opening up the coat, revealing the white undershirt beneath. “Likewise, he would be most displeased to know that you were up here enjoying yourself.”


Loki watched as Thor’s expression changed from confusion, to gradual realisation, and finally to intrigue. “Oh? And why exactly would I be enjoying myself?” he asked with a curious smile, looking down as Loki unbuttoned his shirt, clearly aware of his general intentions, but no doubt hoping that he would have the specifics explained to him.


“Because you’re with me, of course,” Loki grinned, “And do you know,” he continued as he undid each of the brass fastenings, “it just so happens that I particularly enjoy the intimate company of ‘vainglorious’ men.”


Thor gave a surprised chortle, and Loki could feel it vibrate through his fingers. “Is that so?”


“Mm-hm.” Loki parted the shirt, just enough to offer a glimpse of the muscular torso beneath it, “I adore a man who adores himself,” he said with a suggestive jump of his eyebrows.


Thor looked up at the ceiling and stroked the sides of his open mouth as he laughed softly, almost bashfully, clearly trying to decide whether he wanted to play along with this or not. After several long moments, he brought his eyes down to meet Loki’s, a newfound mischief sparkling in them. “Well…” he started, playfulness seeping into his tone and his manner, “it just so happens… that I know one.”


Yes, this was the Thor that he liked best, the one who played his games, shared his fun, and encouraged his devilry, and he was so grateful to have him back that he could have hugged him. But he didn’t. Not yet anyway. “Do you really?” he asked instead, as though he had no idea who that person might be.


Thor reached under Loki’s arms and, with the tips of his fingers, lightly traced the seams of his fitted green tunic, glancing at him as they continued this delicate mating ritual of theirs, teasing and testing each other, knowing full well where it would inevitably lead, but enjoying the thrill of finding out how they got there. “I do,” Thor said, “He is utterly full of himself.”


“I see. My, my.”


“But I should warn you, he is also… highly ‘unprincipled’.” And while Thor probably meant it as a gentle jibe at their father's assessment of his character, the reality of it sounded far more self-deprecating.


Loki smiled, and with a fondness that surprised even himself, said: “He sounds perfect.”


Thor’s humour subsided only momentarily as he registered the weight of the comment, then quickly returned as he accepted it, grabbing Loki by the waist and pulling him to his chest. “Come here you,” he laughed, clasping Loki’s cheeks and bending down to kiss him.


Loki closed his eyes as soon as he felt the warmth of Thor’s lips, holding on to the leather coat and rising on his tip-toes to gain access to as much of his brother’s mouth as he possibly could. He felt Thor smile against him at his eagerness then aid him by dipping down further to offer the full length of his thick tongue - which Loki welcomed, swiping and stroking it with his own, (even giving it a naughty suck before Thor exacted his revenge by tickling his throat with it, causing Loki to giggle and push at him).


After breaking the kiss and returning to his full height, Thor smiled and took hold of Loki’s wrists, slipping his pale hands into his open shirt to rest on the swell of his pectoral muscles. What was he doing? He began to circle Loki’s palms on them, having them cup the meat of his breast; he dragged them over his taut abdomen, pressing them against his toned core; and finally, he guided his fingertips down the deep lines that slanted from his hips in the direction of his groin, letting his nails catch lightly on the waistband of his britches in a tease, before repeating the process, all while observing his expressions. Ha! Goodness gracious! He was making him feel him up, and watching him too! It was an act of such shameless vanity that Loki didn’t know if he could look him in the eye - so he didn’t, and instead simply enjoyed the sight of his small fingers roaming over the large, solid structure of his brother’s body.


“You like a strong man, eh?” Thor asked with a smirk, and Loki had to bite back a laugh. He could have rolled his eyes at how self-indulgent the question was. Well, of course he appreciated the way his brother looked, he would be mad not to, but he had found him attractive years ago when he still carried a little puppy fat and had a bit more chub to his cheeks. But Thor liked his muscles - not because they made him look beautiful, but because they made him look powerful - so Loki nodded encouragingly, stroking his ego. “I do.”


That seemed to make Thor happy. “Well, of course you do. A man needs to take care of himself if seeks the attention of a boy like you.”


“Oh? And what kind of boy am I?”


“One with high standards and discerning taste. Which you obviously are, or you would not be standing there, stiff as a pole,” Thor said with a grin, releasing Loki’s wrists and reaching out to give his erection a rough squeeze through his clothes, causing a tiny, unexpected yip. Loki looked down at himself. He knew he was hard, but didn’t realise how obvious it was until he saw the tent in his leggings nudging up his tunic. All that from a kiss and a feel of his brother’s chest.


When he looked back up, he noticed that Thor had removed his doublet, having dropped it in a pile on the floor, but had left his shirt on, letting it hang widely open, the hem brushing the sides of his leather-clad thighs, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He blushed and felt his pussy give a throb. The way he looked perfectly matched the descriptions of the handsome swashbucklers from erotic novels, adventuring men of questionable morals who engaged in passionate and dangerous love affairs with a seemingly innate flair and charm… Not that he read such things of course …often. It did make his brother rather dashing though, and he would have liked to have studied the finer details of it, had his attention not been drawn to the inescapable protrusion at the crotch of Thor’s own trousers.


“Something has caught your eye, has it?” Thor chuckled, snapping Loki out of his daze. “I expect you would like to see what I keep in my britches.”


“Well I imagine it isn’t loose change.”


Thor laughed. “No, no. What I have is far better than silver. Indeed, one might pay silver just to get a glimpse of it,” he bragged, and as if Loki required further clarification on the object to which he referred: “I have a great big cock, you see, and I thought you might want to admire it.”


His cheeks tingled, but he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or embarrassment. How could Thor say such things? “Worth a look, is it?” he inquired.


“So I am told,” Thor replied with a smug, knowing expression. It wasn’t that Loki waxed lyrical about his cock on a regular basis, but in the throes of passion, he had occasionally and unwittingly verbalised a rather thorough appreciation of it; and as he was the only lover Thor had taken, there was little doubt that it was a nod to him, or perhaps a tease - but Loki could take the tease tonight - tomorrow was a different story. “I suppose I ought to take a peek then.”


Thor ever so slowly began to unlace his britches, watching him with a fixed stare as he did, and how he could do that - keep his eyes on him while he exposed himself - he had no idea. It made him feel like he was the one being scrutinised.


Thor pushed his leathers down until they pooled around his boots, his large, erect cock giving a heavy bounce as he rose back up. Loki had seen it countless times before of course, but the reveal of it never failed to excite him, the long length, the wide girth, and the ever-so-slight upward curve of the otherwise straight appendage making his pussy quiver the way it always did when he imagined the feeling of it inside of him.


“What do you think?” Thor asked, moving closer, wielding it in his hand by the base until it was a mere inch from prodding Loki in the tummy, “Quite the stunner, is it not?”


‘Quite the stunner’. indeed. In fairness, Thor was right - it was stunning. Its beauty was not the conventional sort - comparable to fine silks and blue-skied summer days - but more akin to that of a spiked flail - impressive, intimidating, and capable of leaving one with a limp. “It’s gorgeous.”


“I assume you want to touch it?”


Loki did indeed want to touch it, and found that Thor’s bold supposition (which would normally have seen him refuse out of spite) made him even more eager - but he didn’t want to appear desperate. “I don’t know if I deserve such an honour,” he replied, batting his eyelashes coyly, expecting his brother to flood him with compliments and tell him how worthy he was of his cock.


Instead Thor inclined his head to the side, scrunched up his nose then smiled. “Probably not.”


Ha! What a fiend! Loki could have slapped him, but he simply pouted.


“But, I am a generous man,” Thor declared with gusto, “And will allow you a fondle as a courtesy,”


The gall of him. Loki could hardly complain though - he had started this, and he was getting exactly what he had asked for.


“Here,” Thor said, taking his hand and guiding it to his cock, “feel me,” and ran Loki’s index finger over a particularly juicy vein risen on the flushed pink skin, “hold me,” then curled Loki’s small palm around it, as far as his fingers could reach, “It is substantial, no?”


Loki held the weight of it in his hand and gave it a squeeze, ogling it openly. “It is. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He felt a finger crook under his chin, and as he raised his head, found Thor gazing down at him, candle-lit blue eyes brimming with self-assurance.


“Pleasure me,” he said, his voice confident and firm.


Loki’s cock and pussy twitched in tandem. Thor often made sexual suggestions, requests even, but rarely demands - nor should he, he ran the risk of being denied altogether for demonstrating such unacceptable behaviour - but if this was the ‘unprincipled’ part that he was promised, then he rather liked it.


He gently rolled Thor’s foreskin back until the entirety of the deep lavender head was revealed, and with his fingers now wet and sticky anyway, sought out the source of the fluid, thumbing at the long slit until it wept for him again. He scooped it up and smothered Thor’s length with it, but it didn’t go very far, the surface area too large for a dribble of precome to make much difference - it was always a problem. Raising his hand to his mouth, he gave a tiny spit, and heard Thor chuckle. “I think we can do better than that,” he said, taking Loki’s hand, working his jaw, and with a particularly vulgar sound between the pucker of his lips, spat a big, warm glob of saliva into his palm.


It did the trick, and this time, when he smeared it on Thor’s cock, his hand glided smoothly over the skin and made the whole thing shimmer - like a big, wet sausage, he thought dirtily. He began pulling on him with long, steady strokes, each time twisting his wrist at the head - the way that he knew Thor loved. The ‘Mmm’ that was given in response confirmed it.


He imagined his brother had his eyes closed, as he sometimes did when he was being brought off, but when he glanced up, he saw that Thor was staring reverently down at his own prick.


“My cock looks good in your hand,” he remarked, though Loki had a sneaking suspicion that he just meant ‘my cock looks good’. Admittedly though, his smaller hand always made it appear almost impossibly large, and his milky skin against the darker, blood-warmed shades of flesh, made it look thoroughly enraged - you didn’t mess with a cock like that.


“It feels good in my hand,” he said, “If I had a cock like this, I would never be able to leave it alone.”


“I rarely do,” Thor smiled. And it wasn’t a million miles from the truth, Thor loved to masturbate, and he also loved to watch Loki do it. Nobody liked the concept of self-pleasure more than his brother. “I like to play with my bollocks too. Burdensome as they are,” Thor said shamelessly, taking Loki’s other hand and burying it between his legs so that it cupped his hot, sweaty testicles, “I believe that if they are stimulated, they can produce more seed,” then, with great relish, added, “You will enjoy that when I spill on you.”


Well, that was a promise Loki knew Thor could fulfil, goodness knows where it all came from. “You make a lot, do you?” he asked as he massaged Thor’s balls while continuing to pull him.


Thor cricked his neck and spread his legs a little wider. “Well, I don’t like to boast… but I could fill a cup.”


Loki smiled. Thor could, eventually, but it would be one Hel of a night. And he wondered with amusement whether the cup was simply a representation of scale or if it was not, and Thor would expect him to drink it afterwards. He shivered pleasantly at the notion, imagining what it might be like to gulp down a cup full of his brother’s thick, salty semen.


“You know, I’m surprised I haven’t heard tell of your impressive equipment before,” he said, “Word of such things usually gets around,” and was curious as to how Thor might respond to that. There was a reason why nobody knew what the elder prince of Asgard looked like when erect, or how he performed sexually, and Loki, being his secret lover on account of their fraternal relationship, was that reason.


“Oh, I don’t give myself to just anyone. Only those worthy of me.” Thor stroked Loki’s cheek with his thumb and gave him an affectionate smile - one perhaps too affectionate for their game. “Of course that doesn’t mean I don’t have admirers,” he added, resuming his act, “I need only walk into a room and I can smell all the pussies grow hot and moist from my presence.”


Loki let out a quiet puff of laughter, and looked down and away from Thor in mild embarrassment, hoping that the crimson of his cheeks wouldn’t be noticed. “I bet you can,” he said quietly, but was distracted by the thought. It was an exaggeration of course, but probably not by much. He had seen all sorts of people flirt with his brother: women twice Thor’s age who - bored of their husbands’ droopy peckers and charmless attitudes - craved the attention of a fit, cheerful, and virile youth; girls Loki’s own age, in the grip of puberty, who may not yet have been old enough to understand exactly what they desired from Thor, only that they desired; and men, whose appreciation was perhaps more subtly expressed - a combination of furtive glances and lingering touches as they admired his body and enjoyed his company. It filled Loki with both jealousy and arousal to know how much his brother was coveted.


“Talking of which,” Thor said, pulling him from his thoughts, “I imagine yours is dribbling nicely as we speak,” and to Loki’s surprise, thrust his hand out and shoved it down the front of his leggings. He felt around, pushing his willy to the side and fumbling under his balls until he found the entrance to his quim, then, without warning, slid his middle finger up inside him, causing Loki to gasp and drop Thor’s cock.


“Just as I thought,” Thor grinned, “Soaking.”


He was right, Loki really was wet, but his brother was just being smug. That said, he didn’t remove his hand now that he had proved his point, but began to slip in and out as he rolled his palm against his sac. Loki gave a gratified sigh, grasping Thor’s wide finger with the walls of his cunt. 


"You like a little poke in your purse, do you?" 


"I do," Loki replied sweetly, "You like a little pull on your prick?" and took Thor’s cock and balls back in his hands.


"No, I like a big pull." Thor used his free hand to enclose Loki's palm around the chunky root of his cock and grip him hard before dragging it slowly down to the tip. "Just like that."


They continued to stand by the door pleasuring each other, their hands working one another’s sexes while Thor whispered dirty comments about their anatomy. Loki listened but was more interested in watching the way that the skin of Thor’s sheath gathered with each long, wet tug of his cock, although he couldn’t help but glance at the moving bulge of his brother’s large hand in the material of his leggings, and the tensing of the muscles in Thor’s veiny forearm as he fingered him. It was incredibly sexy.


To his disappointment though, Thor eventually removed his finger, leaving him empty, but before he had time to complain, he felt a hard rub on his clitoris. He whined at stimulation, and had no choice but to take one hand from Thor’s sac so that he could grip onto his shirt, lest his legs collapse beneath him. His weakened state must have done something for his brother because Thor began pistoning his hips, forcing himself into his fist to meet every (now clumsy) forward stroke, a rough groan accompanying each. “Mmn, I’m close,” he muttered, his cheeks growing pinker by the second. Then, with an unexpected urgency, Thor tore his hand from inside his leggings and hauled the fabric of them down to his knees, leaving him exposed; he grabbed his wrist and yanked him away from his cock, taking it in his own palm and stepping forward, roughly jerking it in his direction, close enough that his knuckles brushed against the tip of his willy.


“Do you want to see…how much come I’ve made…?” Thor breathed, shaking his foreskin quickly over the head of his cock. Loki nodded as he stood there without purpose, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as only another second passed before Thor let out a loud, undignified ‘Ughhh’ and began to ejaculate. Loki counted three, four, five long jets of thick cream, each one only slightly weaker than the last. It absolutely covered his cock, but some of it fell on his knees, his leggings, and the stone floor beneath.


Thor was breathing rapidly when he wiped his prick on Loki’s thigh. “You would agree that…” he panted, licking his lips to get the moisture back, “…I deliver an impressive amount of seed, no?” Loki looked at the mess that had been made - there was lots of it, the sort of amount his brother produced when he hadn’t touched himself - or made love - in a few days… The penny dropped and he began to smile with the realisation: Thor had known it too, and was already well aware of how much he would spill. He had wondered how his brother had been able to promise it so confidently. Clever boy.


“It’s incredible,” he replied enthusiastically, “I had no idea how such a thing was even possible,” though he knew fine well that it wasn’t from the fact that Thor liked to squeeze his own balls.


“Well, now that…you have seen what it looks like…and seen what it can do…” Thor started, his chest still heaving, then tightly grasped the back of Loki’s neck with his clean hand and bent down so that they were at eye level, and asked with a low, gravelly voice:


“…Would you like it in you?”


Loki gulped. It shouldn’t have come as a shock that Thor wanted to have sex - but the way he said it. Gods, it sounded filthy. “I-I would,” he quickly replied, perhaps too quickly, but as his eyes travelled down from Thor’s flushed face, past his open shirt, and lingered on his groin, he saw that he was already half-hard again - had he ever gone soft? He wasn't sure.


Thor stood and gave a loose twirling motion with his hand as he continued to catch his breath before pointing at him and speaking, his tone now absent of humour and heated with unrest. “Take...your clothes off then… I want you.”


Loki’s girl-parts all but swooned at the declaration, and he quickly began removing his boots and tunic. Normally they would undress each other, but it looked like Thor had no intention of his britches going any further than his ankles tonight, so Loki hurried to rid himself of his remaining attire. His brother was clearly in a ‘way’. The tip-off should have been his rapid breathing and agitated state - Loki knew that it wasn’t simply from a tug.


As soon as he yanked off his leggings - the final garment - Thor backed him against the door until he could feel the solid oak on his spine. He looked up to find darkened eyes on his, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another, lust and need simmering between them, but a desire for each to see it in the other stopping them from moving. It was Thor who was the first to break, suddenly dipping down and kissing him hard, making Loki scrunch his eyes shut with the force of it. He could feel Thor’s warm cock leaking precome against his tummy, and the thought that it could be inside him, right now, made him squirm in frustration against his lips.


“You want it, do you?’ Thor growled, breathing against him, grinding against him. Loki had thought his feelings were clear and didn't answer, so Thor asked again with more vulgarity. “You want my cock in your cunt?” then slid his hands down the back of his thighs under the swell of his backside and lifted him, hitching him halfway up the door and hauling his skinny legs around his waist.


“I do. I need it,” Loki began to nod quickly, tilting his hips as best he could, “I really need it,” and reached between his open thighs to spread apart the pleats of his pussy, letting Thor see how wet his hole was.


“Yes you do,” Thor said, his eyes focused on his dripping sex, “Yes you do,” he repeated distractedly as he spat on his hand and reached down to grab himself, trying to keep Loki in place while he smeared his cock and guided it to his entrance.


Loki's heart suddenly began to race as Thor started to roll his cockhead over and around his folds, chaotically coating him in precome. He knew what that meant. Thor wanted them wet all over so that when his cunt started to swallow him, there would be no need to redistribute their fluids with gradually deepening thrusts. He intended to take him in one go.


Loki braced himself with his hands on his brother's broad shoulders, gripping them tightly as Thor pressed against his entrance, found his angle, then drove his cock all the way into his gut in a single devastating slide.


“Nnghh,” he cried out through his teeth as the channel of his cunt stretched around the unyielding width of Thor’s cock, struggling to make room for him so quickly; he was wet but still too tight. Thor gave a loud, deep groan as he settled in fully, gravity, as unforgiving as it was, working that final, dreaded inch inside. He clenched his fists in the fabric of Thor’s shirt, and tried to widen his legs around his waist in an attempt to open himself up on him, but to little avail.


Thor held the backs of both his thighs as he withdrew just over half-way, then paused, as if preparing himself, before giving a rough thrust back inside with a grunt, a movement that coaxed a sharp ‘Uhn’ from Loki and made the door, for all its sturdiness, give a dull rattle.


Thor stayed there, perfectly still, his eyes roving over Loki’s face, searching for something. “Yes?” he asked hoarsely, though the question didn't sound like: 'Yes? Do you enjoy that?' but rather: 'Yes? Will you let me?'. “Yes...” Loki nodded. His brother needed this from him, needed the opportunity to release all the emotions that hid behind those cheerful smiles. Encouraged, Thor did it again, causing another gutteral sound from them both, and then again, and again, in a series of coarse thrusts so deep that Loki could feel his stomach start to cramp. But as brutal as it was, he welcomed it, he wanted to be the one that could break Thor's barriers, see him stripped bare.‘That's it, Brother’ he thought, ‘give me your frustration and your anger, your desire and your need. I want it all.'


He pulled his legs out, one then the other, from between Thor’s hips and arms and draped them over his elbows before dragging him up close by the collar of his shirt. The position allowed Thor to get a firm grip of his waist and he started thrusting quicker, shaking Loki’s back against the door.


He moaned, reaching down and rapidly stripping his cock, his balls squashing against Thor’s sweat-damp pubic hair every time he jerked into him until, with a soft ‘ah’, he came, little spurts of white splattering his belly.


“Touch...your pussy…” Thor instructed as he panted, bucking mercilessly into him. “You're going to…come there too.”


He did as he was told, easing his fingers under his sac and rubbing at his clitoris, his fingertips bumping into Thor’s cock as he shoved it in and out. He wouldn’t have been concerned if he hadn’t come there, but it was worth a try if that's what Thor wanted, and as he rolled over it; watching his brother’s cheeks and neck grow a redder with both effort and arousal; seeing the hem of his shirt judder with his movements; and catching his blue eyes whenever he looked up from where they were joined; he felt his gut begin to tighten with impending orgasm.


He started to whimper and Thor raised his head to watch him. “Are you…going…to come?” he huffed, and Loki tried to nod, but it was more like a loll of his head, “Good…I want…to feel your pussy… flutter on my cock -ugh- make me feel it.”


Loki clenched his muscles around Thor’s cock, and wriggled his fingers on his clitoris, the strain of being so close and wanting it so badly making his hand stiffen and falter. But it was enough, and with a grizzle through his teeth, the first deep pulse of his orgasm hit him, making any remaining pain disappear in a haze of euphoria.


“That’s it, that’s it...I can feel it... I can feel your pussy," Thor hissed, "...I knew…I could make you come.” It was clearly meant to be a boast, yet the words seemed laced with unnecessary doubt - as if his brother hadn't made him come countless times before.


But the achievement had Thor rutting with increasing fervour, and as he did, an unexpectedly wolfish grin suddenly appeared on his face.


“So tell me... Am I…'vainglorious' enough for you…” he snarled, “Hm? 'Insolent' enough…?” and sloppily drove up into him, the wet from his cunt squelching each time Thor entered him, “…'Unprincipled' enough…?”


It was only then that Loki realised what he had done. He had made Thor play up to their father’s words, made him believe them, and although there was a whisper of truth to them, they didn’t define him; they weren’t who he was.


Loki moved his hands up from Thor’s shoulders to grasp his jaw, steadying his face, “No,” he said sternly, shaking his head, then leaned in close, and, in a more personal and affirming echo of something he had already confessed once tonight, whispered: “You’re perfect.”


He watched as Thor’s eyebrows, set in a fierce furrow, drew up and together in an expression that - if he was forced to describe - most closely resembled heartache. A soft whine escaped his brother’s throat and he felt a flood of warmth as Thor spilled inside of him.


He put his hand on the back of Thor’s head and guided his face down to bury in his neck as he saw him through his climax, a handful of blond hair in his grasp. Thor thrust into him deeply, five more times; the first one hard; the second less so; and the final one weak and shaky.


They stayed like that for a full minute in silence, Thor breathing heavily against his shoulder, his cock still cradled within his walls. Eventually though, he slid out, and lowered Loki to the floor, but rather than moving away, rested their foreheads together, eyes closed, and took his hands, interlacing their fingers; and while no words were spoken, the sentiment was understood.




Without letting go, Loki led Thor to the bed and climbed atop the furs, beckoning him to his side with a nudge of his head and curling up in a ball facing him when he followed.


Thor reached out and stroked his arm, gazing at him with an appreciative smile, one of those painfully tender ones that made Loki want to hide his face. He blushed deeply until the eye-contact, the adoration in Thor’s expression, the sweetness of it all, became too much to bear.


“So breakfast will be a fun affair,” he suddenly remarked, deliberately breaking the mood. Well, they couldn’t just sit there staring at each other all night!


Thor laughed, probably not expecting the abruptness of it, but no doubt knowing him well enough not to be too surprised. “It certainly will. I imagine that you will be able to hear a pin drop.”


The casual conversation helped Loki get back to his usual self. And he liked his usual self - it was easy. “I should bring a book.”


“Heh. One doesn’t bring those sorts of books to the dining table,” Thor teased, prodding his arm, and Loki gave him a shove, blushing. “But it will certainly be awkward,” he added, obviously not wanting to dwell on the matter at the risk of a more violent attack.


“You’ll have to grovel.”


“Grovelling is hardly my area of expertise,” Thor complained, but only lightly, though Loki wasn’t sure if he was suggesting that it was his.


“Now, now, Brother. We all have to grovel at some point,” he said without shame, “And the sooner you do it, the sooner you can talk at dinner, and the sooner you can do that… the sooner you can distract Father while I turn his wine into worms. Imagine the look on his face!”


“Ha! Oh, Loki. You are my little brother. You are my little lover. But you are not an idiot,” Thor laughed.


“Perhaps I should give it a few weeks.”


“Perhaps you should.”


Thor shuffled in closer and wrapped his arms around Loki, resting his chin on the top of his head. “Loki,” he said quietly.




“Thank you.”


Loki said nothing, only smiled. He had told his brother all there was to tell. 


He was perfect.