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To the Quick

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They’ll kill him for this, and he didn’t even think of it, didn’t even plan it, and sure as hell doesn’t know how to stop it. 

Maybe they’ll kill him right in this very bed and use the blood stained sheets as a new flag to celebrate Asgardian independence. Gold silk dyed Jotun red. Fitting. 

Bright Asgardian sunlight traces the curves of Thor’s body through the black silk nightgown of a dress she decided was appropriate funeral attire. The whispers that permeated the service were filled with righteous indignation. How dare Loki do this to Thor? How dare he make her parade around nearly nude when he just killed her father and king? How dare he?

Holding the throne will be so much more difficult now. Loki underestimated his niece. He imagined a grand battle, magic against magic and hammer against sceptre. 

Never once did he imagine it would be her wit and strategy against his. Nor did he imagine she would ever win that fight. 

But she will. She is. 

The weight of her body has him pinned as she straddles his hips, but simply the sight of her like this could do the same thing. He wouldn’t dare move and risk shattering the illusion of whatever perfect dream this is. Except it isn’t a dream, and he’s losing all of the power he’s fought so hard to gain. 

Her callused fingers grip his cock and his body betrays him yet again, the touch causes a soft breath to pass his lips. She smiles, blue eyes bright as the sky and far clearer. He feels like he could fly right into them and live in all that blue. 

Now his heart is betraying him. Does no part of him bear any honor or loyalty? 

The skirt, if it’s even long enough to be called that, has rolled up her thighs just enough for him to see blond curls soaked through and darkened by how wet she is. 

Thor positions him, slides the head of his dick back, back until her body gives. She’s going to do this, he thinks, heart hammering in his ears. She’s actually going to follow through with this. 

He lays his hands on her thighs, soft hair tickling his palms. The plush curve of her lips opens, pink tongue teasing as she sinks onto him. Loki shakes and his legs twitch. 

“Oh, fuck ,” he whipsers, eyes still locked with hers. 

She sighs, chest heaving, nipples poking through the silk. “Yes.” 

He’s buried to the root too quickly, much too quickly. The heat inside her body makes him feel like he could be set alight—a pile of kindling being struck by lightning, just one good gust of wind away from burning everything to the ground. He is powerless to do anything but burn for her.

Loki digs his fingers into her thighs and grinds his teeth until they nearly crack. He can’t be powerless. Never again.

“Nothing like a funeral to make one feel alive, hm?” His voice grates against his own ears, far too tight and strained. 

Thor’s eyes narrow and darken. The hairs on his arms stand on end, tiny sparks of static pop at the tips of her fingers. 

“Loki,” she growls, “don’t mention my father when your cock is inside my body.” 

He exhales sharply through his nostrils and pulls his lips away from his teeth, more a snarl than a smile. “No, wouldn’t do to spoil this before Baldur kills me.” 

The sharp crack of her hand against his face makes his ears ring. For a moment he thinks the hammer will follow and he loathes the way it makes his cock throb inside of her.

“Do not talk about my family right now.” Lush, lovely red blooms across her cheeks in her anger. 

Loki tastes blood when he grins. Tears have filled his eyes from the sting of her slap and he resists the urge to blink them away. 

“Then I best not say anything about myself, should I? Wouldn’t want to break your rules, my dear niece,” he hisses.

Thor’s body moves, her hips tilt and sway so slowly, dancing with him inside of her, just grinding down on the length of him. Her left hand moves to her right shoulder and he wonders if she’s going to backhand him, but instead he sees her fingers pinch the delicate strap that holds the dress up. Despite himself his eyes watch the strap, its movements as she pulls it down while her arm slips free from it. The silk sags with its support gone and folds over itself as it droops. She repeats the action at her left shoulder and drops her arms to her sides. 

Her hips still move, forward and back and forward again. Not thrusting, just playing. Making him so hard he can barely stand it. His knuckles go white where he grips her thighs. The silk slips a little with every gentle rock of her hips. 

Thor tips her head back, eyes closed, sighing sweetly as if she were sunbathing during a picnic. Easy and carefree. Loki watches the silk. She has a plan. She has to. She is Asgard’s protector and master strategist. He knows just how capable she is. The best student he ever had and this is where it’s brought him, on his back in his niece’s bed while she uses his cock like a toy.

A bare hint of pink as the silk slips another half inch. 

Thor’s eyes crack open, a crooked smile splitting her mouth. “Maybe I just don’t let you talk.” 

She reaches up and pulls the silk down the rest of the way. Loki’s mouth waters at the sight of her breasts and he wants to hate himself for it, but he loves her too much and he did always want this. Always want her. 

Maybe she knew. 

Maybe the gates were unguarded because—

He stops himself before he can do something as dangerous as hope. 

Thor slides a hand into his hair and cradles his head as she pulls him up just enough to have his mouth right in front of her nipple, close enough to feel it brushing against his lips. 

“Be gentle,” she commands, “make it feel good or I’ll snap your neck.” 

Loki huffs, but his balls draw up and his cock fattens further with the threat. “It won’t kill me.” 

She pauses her movement and yanks his head back. Her smile looks so serene, he thinks. 

“You’ll wish it did, Loki.” Such a soft tone for such hard words. 



He loves her. 


He closes the space between them and wraps his lips around her nipple, letting his eyes slip shut while he listens to her and feels her using him. A god killer, they call him. Loki the murderer, slayer of the Allfather. Bastard king. What’s one more curse to damn him for eternity?

The last of his sense collapses under the weight of his need and he sucks, gently just as she said. Thor moans her approval. She sounds pleased. Maybe she’ll kill him quickly, then. No torture or revenge. Just a swift death once she’s done. He did everything he promised for centuries. 

And now he has this, too. 

Thor stops again and adjusts her position, spreading her knees further apart and sinking down just a bit more. Bright, sweet pleasure makes his insides flutter with a nervous excitement. Loki’s eyes roll back into his head and he groans against her breast. He never knew sex could feel this good.

She sighs again, whispers slow and soft, “yes.”

Loki brings his hand up to her other breast, cupping it with reverence. She hums deep in her chest and pushes against him. The hand holding his head pulls him forward, burying his face against her until he can’t breathe. He flicks his tongue over her nipple and barely pinches the other between his fingers. 

Wood creaks in time to Thor’s rhythm, damning to Loki’s ears. She touches his hand as it toys with her nipple, stroking the back and down to his wrist, almost tickling him. 

“Keep doing that,” she pants, “it feels good.” 

He moans before he can stop himself. Making her feel good is some kind of miracle so far outside of the realm of his magic he doesn’t believe he’s actually doing it. 

She rubs his scalp and slides her other hand up to his shoulder, just holding on as her hips move faster and faster. 

“You said you’d save me,” she pants.

Loki stops, looking up at her as she looks down at him. He never said—


Thor smiles, the edges of it sharp as her eyes flash and glow. She digs her fingers into his scalp, the pain shocking him back into movement. He runs his tongue over her nipple and resumes sucking. An airy sigh passes her lips; so soft and gentle in contrast to the way she’s going tight around his cock.

Tension bleeds from Loki’s shoulders and back. He relaxes bit by bit and moans against her breast. She doesn’t mean to have him killed. This isn’t some trick, at least he can’t imagine it is. Saving her. That’s a damn good story, the perfect lie. A narrative is already weaving itself together in the back of Loki’s mind. 

Thor’s breath stutters and she goes so tight it almost hurts, her hips jerking like she can’t control it. Loki closes his eyes and bathes himself in the sound of her soft, helpless moans. 

“Oh, fuck , Loki.” Her words come as sobs as she leans forward. 

Golden hair shields him and reduces the world to Thor as her soft curls tickle the sides of his face. He doesn’t stop sucking on her nipple and she doesn’t seem inclined to make him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and settles on him, body pulsing and hips barely moving, like she just can’t stop. 

She pulls back enough to look him in the eye, grin lazy and soft from orgasm. “You should make me your queen, that’s the only way to secure the crown.” 

Blazing heat surges through Loki’s veins, his muscles lock and he can’t breathe enough to whimper, let alone scream the way he wants as euphoria rips into him. His fingers turn to claws, digging into Thor’s breast and hip, clinging to her while her words echo in his mind. 

His cock jumps inside her, emptying into her and buried so deep he might—

They might—

Loki shudders and pulls his mouth from her nipple as he drags his face to the center of her chest. Pleasure dances over his skin, sharp like pins and needles, like he’s been asleep and cut off from something he needed until this exact moment. 

Callused fingers stroke his hair, smoothing it down against his scalp. He stays inside her even when he’s soft. They’re so close he has no choice but to remain here, wrapped up in her arms and heat. 

He tilts his head back, resting his chin on her sternum as he looks into her eyes. “Why?” 

Thor smiles and rubs his temples with her thumbs. “You’ve never been able to see when someone loves you, Loki.”

He closes his eyes and counts backward from ten, willing this dream to end if it is one. If he’s just tricked himself with any one of the countless fantasies he’s lived through with the magic at his disposal. 

When he opens his eyes he sees soft blue and blushing cheeks. 

It’s real.