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The Dare

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“I could break anyone, brother! Even you,” Thor says smugly, and takes a bite of his turkey leg.

Loki sniffs, and takes his own bite, far more daintily, “Forgive me, brother, but I hardly think you’re the legend you claim to be.”

Thor laughs loudly, “And I think you are far more pliable than you claim to be, brother!”

“Well, I suppose the only way to settle it is a bet,” Loki says mildly, and Thor’s eyes widen for a second, stunned by the suggestion.


“I’m glad you admit my superiority, brother,” Loki smiles, and a spark kindles in Thor’s eyes.

“A bet it is!” Thor declares, slamming his tankard against the table, and Loki blinks.

“But that means-”

“I am no shrinking daisy, brother! Are you afraid that you’ll prove me right?” Thor asks, and Loki’s jaw sets stubbornly.

“Then I suppose we shall see.”

“It is a bet,” Thor agrees, and Loki’s eyes are troubled as they finish dinner.

They adjourn to Thor’s room afterwards, the silence heavy and uncomfortable between them.

Loki almost goes to break it, but decides against it- Thor will be unnerved, on edge, easier to defeat. He isn’t going to lose this bet.

Thor is, as always, oblivious, and Loki stands and watches as his brother swings his scarlet cloak off his shoulders, setting it in its rightful place before turning to grin at him.

“Well, brother? Are you a coward?”

“It’s one of my many monikers,” Loki says mildly, but steps into Thor’s space and pulls him into a kiss.

Thor paws at Loki’s jaw, adjusting the kiss, slotting their lips together more solidly, and licks into his brother’s mouth. He’s solid heat, Loki thinks, as Thor’s tongue licks along the grooves in his teeth, slickly thrusting in a parody of what is to occur later.

His hand doesn’t stay pressed against Loki’s jaw, however, and instead slides down the length of his neck, and Loki tries to hide the shiver-flinch that comes from the touch.

From the grin that presses into the kiss, he clearly fails, and his brother’s hand goes up to grab him by the hair, tilting his head back so Thor can lick down Loki’s throat experimentally. A few licks, a nip, a bite, and Loki is liquid in Thor’s arms, leg coming up to catch around his hips and pull him close, hands shaking as they clench, one on Thor’s hip, the other at his shoulder.

“Bed,” Thor declares, all brash brightness, like a call for more mead, and Loki cannot believe it. He acts as if this is *normal*, not something to be hidden, and Loki is too stunned, kiss dazed and warm from the press of Thor against him to fight back.

He falls back on the bed, and Thor’s smile widens, a hand pressed to the centre of Loki’s chest to push him into reclining while the other pawed at the laces of his trousers.

“What would you have me do, my brother?” Thor rumbles companionably, as if he isn’t kneading Loki’s cock through his leathers, and Loki whines wordlessly in answer.

“I shall take that as an invitation to do as I please,” Thor decides, and Loki gathers himself enough to scowl.

“And what do you please, brother?” he says breathlessly, and Thor finally pushes past the laces, wrapping a broad hand around Loki’s cock and stroking.

“You shall find out,” Thor says, setting a mercilessly fast pace, and Loki’s hips push up without his permission, a whimper escaping his gritted teeth.

Thor continues to stroke him with one hand, the other catching Loki’s hip and somehow flipping him. The Mighty Thor, Loki thinks, arching into his brother’s grip, all muscle and no brain. Although it would appear that muscle has a place, he decides, biting his lip as Thor works Loki’s pants off him, placing wet, open mouthed kisses against the knotted cord of his spine until he reaches the crease of his buttocks.

“You think to take me?” Loki asks, trying to seem unaffected, and Thor laughs loudly, pulling his hand away from Loki’s cock. He lets out an unconscious whine, hips bucking, and Thor’s laugh rumbles on as his mouth works its way lower, kissing and licking and nipping, and Loki finds himself arching back into that touch, too.

“I do not think, Loki. I plan. And it is a good one!”

“Well, that’s a first,” Loki says, and he can feel Thor’s smile against him as he finally reaches his goal, tongue playing along the tight furl of flesh that is Loki’s entrance.

Quite embarrassingly, Loki gasps, elbows slipping on the furs that make Thor’s bedspread, and Thor licks again, not pushing in, but letting his spit loosen Loki’s entrance, gently pointing his tongue and sliding in, but pulling back before he passed the guardian muscle. Loki whines, hips shifting, and tries to push back, provoking another laugh, this time pressed against him, and the vibration feels good. His knees slide wider without his permission, and Thor’s fingers stroke along the thin whiteness of his thighs, pushing up to catch at the base of his cock and squeezing tightly, forming a ring with his fingers as his tongue finally pushes past and into Loki, and he moans.

“I like you like this,” Thor says, still too loud, too Thor, completely unable to get the idea of a bedroom voice, “so pliable.”

“I-I am not pliable-” Loki bites out, and the hand around him tightens almost cruelly. This time, his moan is louder, and Thor dips back to his task with a vengeance, licking and prodding and pushing until Loki is shivering under him, trying to push back and get more sensation, any sensation beyond just his brother’s tongue.

Suddenly, he pulls back, and Loki practically growls, hips canting back, only to feel the slide of a well greased finger circle his stretched hole.

“Pliable,” Thor repeats, satisfied, and pushes a single finger into Loki, feeling at his insides almost delicately, Loki thinks, flushed and bewildered by how out of character the action seems, until-


Loki bites his lip on another moan, and Thor chuckles, pressing up against that spot again and again, until Loki is writhing, too strung out to hide his noises, legs spread as wide as they will go as he rocks back on Thor’s finger.

“M-more, brother, please,” Loki whines, and Thor kisses the small of his back.

“More, you ask?”

“More!” Loki snaps. He isn’t going to break. Thor shall not break him.

Thor relents, pulling away for a second, and Loki will kill him, will have him gutted and hung up for the hawks, intestines spread and he will see what it is like to want something and be rejected, and then comes back with a second finger that slots into Loki with barely an ache.

It’s better, so much better with two, and Loki’s hips cant up, pushing back and trying to get more. Thor continues to kiss and nip at his brother’s back as the fingers spread inside him, stretching and prodding and pushing until they find that spot again.

This time, Thor doesn’t just press, he drums his fingers lightly against it, and Loki yowls, back arching and eyes practically rolling back in his head.

“Still more, brother?” Thor asks steadily, when Loki’s breathing has calmed slightly. He is so, so close, but the punishingly tight grip around his base means he won’t be coming any time soon, even as Thor’s fingers spread oil into him, jolting against that place and making colours bloom and burst behind his eyelids. It’s so good it almost hurts, and he squirms, unsure if he’s pressing back into the touch or trying to get away.

But Loki can take anything Thor dishes out, so he nods, and a third finger joins the first two.

The press of three fingers inside makes him keen, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, but Thor has been so slow, so deliberate, that it doesn’t hurt. It’s like stretching, a slight ache, but it feels so good that Loki cannot begrudge Thor that tiny pain.

Then he spreads the fingers, and Loki must bite down on the pillow to stop himself from making a truly embarrassing noise.

“Good?” Thor asks, pressing against the shaky-hot place inside Loki that makes him whine and rock back against his brother, mindless with want.

“Good,” Thor decides, “you want another?”

Yes, Loki wants another, he always wants another, but what he wants, more than anything now, is to come. But Thor’s hand around him stops that, and when Loki manages some garbled version of the sentiment, he just laughs.

“I said that I shall do as I please, brother. And what pleases me is to see the silvertongue spread out and begging me for more, beyond his clever words and twists of phrase.”

The fingers pull out, and Loki is cold and wanting and for a second, filled with so much hate that it bursts inside him like a dam has come down. But then they’re back, and there’s another, and he feels full, heavy and almost content.

It’s almost enough, he decides, to feel Thor’s thumb scratch lightly at the stretch of his perineum as four of his fingers push inside him. And then Thor presses against him, hard, all four digits pressing in and against that part of him that makes him *want*, and he cannot think.

Loki’s thighs tremble as he pushes back against Thor’s hand- almost his entire hand, Thor smiles- and he’s never been more beautiful.

Loki is untouchable, all proud airs and slicked back hair, but now, he is truly beautiful. He shakes and whines and tries to move faster, but Thor is stronger than he, and a warning, in the form of pulling his fingers almost all the way out, stops Loki from moving. He’s dripping sweat, muscles trembling, and Thor is proud, because he knows that nobody has ever strung his brother out like this, until he was panting and thoughtless and mewling at every touch.

He likes the noises he can pull from Loki, and again rolls his fingers against his brother’s prostate, making the man twitch and whimper, pushing back into the sensation.

Thor wonders how long he can keep Loki like this. It’s already been hours since he first kissed his brother, pushed him down onto the bed. He wonders how long he can wait before he actually takes Loki. How long can he wait before he lets his brother finally release?

The smirk on his face, could Loki have seen it, would have made his brother proud. He pulls out, ignoring Loki’s desperate begging babble, and reaches for one of the laces from his brother’s trousers, pulling it out of its holes and examining it thoughtfully.

For his purposes, it will do.

Loki begs, pushing back, but there is nothing to push against, just air, and he can feel his hole fluttering, unused to the lack of sensation after Thor’s endless, relentless touching. e whines, and then suddenly, something wraps around his cock, where Thor’s hand was.

“Hush, Loki, I am still here,” Thor says, wrapping the lace around the base of Loki’s engorged member, and then tying it with oil slick fingers. It will work, he decides, and runs his hand up Loki’s cock, thumbing at the drooling tip as his brother ruts forward against him, hips working furiously.

He can’t come, and Thor smiles again, pulling away and slipping his fingers back into Loki’s entrance. They go easily, the hole already oil slick and stretched prettily, so he leans down, carefully, and licks at it until Loki is trembling, then spreads his fingers inside, slowly, as gentle as he can, and presses against his prostate again.

Loki, already a hairsbreadth from coming, whines needily, and he isn’t sure how long Thor stays like that, fingers carefully pressing up against his insides, tapping against the shaky-hot place that makes him mindless with want, rocking back because if he just had a little bit more pressure, a little bit more speed, he could come.

Eventually, Thor cannot hold back any longer, and, as slowly as he knows how, pulls his fingers from Loki, one at a time, his other hand rubbing soothingly at the smooth space just beneath his brother’s balls as he pulls out.

Loki is stretched beautifully, his perineum pink, and Thor leans down, licking into his entrance easily.

Loki can barely muster a shiver, and Thor smiles, taking his time to play with the stretch of his entrance.

Eventually, Thor cannot ignore his own need, and finally pulls Loki up, slick hands on his brother’s hips, and rubs oil over his own cock, already close to coming.

Loki comes easily, no resistance save the shocky trembling of his muscles as Thor arranges him as he wishes, and the cock that slides into him makes him gasp.

It wasn’t unexpected, Loki thinks, dazed, his brother boasts enough, but even after the copious stretching, the build of the fingers and the gentle come down of his brother’s tongue, having his brother’s cock inside him is different.

Thor waits, hands tight on Loki’s hips, until Loki gives a signal that he doesn’t realise giving, some drawn in breath or quiet moan, and Thor begins to thrust.

He starts slow, but is dedicated, seating himself fully before withdrawing until only the tip remains, and pushing in again. He does this for what seems like hours, until Loki is once again pressing back against him. Then, and only then, does he begin to fuck him in earnest, hips pistoning.

“Still not convinced of my prowess?” Thor breathes into Loki’s ear, and his brother snarls, suddenly reminded of the bet.

“Not even slightly,” Loki says, but his attempt to sound above the situation is ruined when Thor reaches around, fingers fumbling on oil slick lace, and pulls it loose.

Within minutes, Loki is letting out short, ratcheting gasps, and comes, arms giving out and falling onto the mattress.

Thor laughs, because he’s a bastard and Loki is going to kill him in the morning, and continues to thrust until Loki is squirming under him, over sensitive, and releases with a roar.

Highly barbaric, Loki judges him sleepily, and Thor falls onto the mattress next to him.

“So, brother, do you agree that I am indeed the best you have ever had?” Thor asks, eyes bright as he arranges them on the mattress, arms and legs wrapped around Loki heavily.

Loki smiles cryptically and says nothing.

Thor growls unhappily, and Loki finally deigns to speak.

“I cannot judge after just one showing, Thor. Perhaps the best two out of three.”

“It is a bet!” Thor agrees, but Loki is already asleep.