"You wield Mjolnir. I should think that would be enough to set you apart from the rest."
Thor ducks his head slightly, then glances up to meet the prince's eyes again. "Frigga is my mother by blood, she raised me as a babe then left me in my father's care once I was old enough. But I am not royalty. Far from it. My father is Hermóðr, of the northern moors. He has served under Odin's command for the majority of his life and he promised me that I would follow in his footsteps."
A pensive expression crosses Loki's face, but it flickers away mere seconds later and he seats himself beside Thor on the opulent bed once more.
"You do realize I'm the one who is supposed to be offering you pleasure in this arrangement," Thor quirks an eyebrow at the futureking, clearly still perplexed by Loki's demands.
Loki chuckles, a rare expression of amusement for the normally reserved trickster. "Thor? Lie back against the pillows, won't you? That's good, yes. Very good."
Once settled against the mountain of silk-covered pillows, Thor rests his hands at his sides and watches as Loki crawls up the length of the bed like some feline predator, finally ending up with his legs slung casually over Thor's upper thighs. A mere blink later and there's a small vial in Loki's hand. Apparently, the prince isn't afraid to abuse his powers for more trivial means on occasion.
Without permission, Thor moves his hands to curl over the firm muscle of Loki's thighs, carefully holding him in place. Loki glances at him once, as though discerning whether or not the action is worthy of reprimand, then returns to his former task of liberally slicking his fingers with the light-colored oil.
Thor watches Loki prepare himself with no small amount of awe. His eyes darken as quick, hitched breaths escape the prince's barely parted lips, and his fingertips press more urgently into the muscles beneath his hands.
In motion like this, Loki is the most beautiful creature Thor has ever laid eyes on. There is nothing about him that isn't exquisite. From the pale line of his exposed throat to the light dusting of dark hair leading south from his navel.
Thor wonders if Loki was created to tempt him rather than the obviously reversed nature of their situation.
Then, before he can fully register what is happening in front of him, Loki is pushing himself up onto his knees, staring down at him with an almost predatory grin, and sinking back down, taking his cock in one fluid motion.
Thor loses his air for a moment, surging up to splay one hand against Loki's spine while the other slams flat against the mattress to keep him upright.
Loki's mouth is hovering against his, their lips only just touching. Loki tastes like honey and ozone.
"Is this not pleasurable, Thunderer?" Loki murmurs huskily, a knowing smirk already gracing his lips. "Did I not promise you that I know my own preferences just as intimately as I know yours?"
Thor groans, then slams his lips against the prince's. The kiss is hopelessly messy and uncoordinated, but the angle provides him with just the right amount of leverage to begin thrusting up into Loki's body.
There's no rhythm to their coupling at all, just a rough collection of uncoordinated limbs, grasping hands, and sharp teeth sinking into tender flesh.
Loki draws blood first, clamping his jaws down on the vulnerable skin at the place where Thor's neck blends into his shoulder. Thor snarls and drags his fingers down Loki's back, blunt nails leaving four lines of red marring the pale expanse of skin.
Despite the fact that this is their first time spent together in this manner, they don't know any other way of communicating. Not when it comes to intimacy. Conversation is fine, but when words turn to physical gestures, it becomes a war.
They both have everything to prove. And nothing to lose.
Loki slams his weight down, causing Thor to exhale a low grunt of surprise. The tight coils in his belly are already loosening and he can feel his release surging along his veins.
He snarls again and arches up, burying himself as deeply in Loki's body as he can while sinking his teeth into the tender skin just beneath the prince's jaw. Loki cries out, the first uninhibited sound he's made through their entire coupling.
Emboldened, Thor intends to wring every last whimper out of his futureking before they're both spent.
He initiates another kiss, then begins canting his hips up at an increasingly rapid pace, jostling Loki to the point where the prince has to clutch his shoulders in order to not be thrown off. Though he highly doubts he could actually accomplish such a thing even if he wanted to.
Finally, with a pitched yelp, Loki shudders violently and spills himself over the firm planes of Thor's stomach, breathing hard as he weathers the aftershocks of his orgasm.
Thor growls, already able to taste victory as he thrusts up twice more before going rigid, groaning his way through an orgasm that feels white-hot enough to sear the very flesh from his bones.
His arm gives out moments later and they both collapse, Loki's weight falling heavily onto his chest. Thor gasps for breath, finally able to slow his thundering heartbeat as he focuses on the gentle coolness of Loki's skin pressed against his own, on the quiet breath ghosting across his stubbled cheek.
Once the sounds in the room have faded to quiet sighs and the occasional yawn, Thor considers attempting something witty in order to coax his prince to smile again, though he knows any such attempt would likely end in disaster considering his dazed mental state.
"The rumors of your prowess hold true," Loki murmurs from somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, and there isn't any hint of condescension in his tone. "I am impressed."
Thor smiles to himself, more pleased than he would like to admit.