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It’d started the day Thor realized that Loki was manipulating him. Before then—when they were younger, he more brash and hardheaded, and Loki quicker to laugh and tease—he had always discovered it only after the fact, generally after he had stepped into a whirl of trouble at Loki’s instigation, and sometimes not until he’d fought his way out again and returned to find Loki wiping the silver of tears from his face, bent over around his chortles. But the day it began, he looked into his brother’s eyes as Loki sent him off on another fool’s errand and he knew the easy lies as they spilled from his brother’s soft, pink lips. He saw the deep glint of playful mockery in his green eyes, saw how carefully and perfectly he controlled the pale canvas of his expression, keeping the look just casual enough, just brotherly enough, just clever enough, just hopeful enough. He saw how easily Loki thought to use his trust and his love to get what he wanted out of him, and he could practically hear the half-jesting insults Loki reserved for him, at once both fond and cutting; his brother had always made it perfectly clear what he thought of Thor’s intellect.

Thor realized that Loki was playing him. In a soft, persuasive voice, Loki was playing him for a fool, manipulating him, deceiving him, pushing him into Ymir-knew-what actions for his own purposes. But, just at that moment, Thor realized he didn’t care. No—it pleased him, suited him perfectly, and he smiled and reached for his hammer (ever useful where Loki’s plans were concerned) and said, “Tell me more, brother.”

He loved it. His clever brother, directing the might of his arms and the path of his steps, goading him into boldness, stoking his temper and tugging at his reins. The idea was suddenly thrilling, and he swallowed around a rush of excitement.


It became more the day that he went to Loki’s chambers and asked. For a while, Loki had seemed withdrawn from him; he had been going off with other friends during the day and spending his evenings alone with his books, and he hadn’t come up with any new adventures to press Thor into for too long. He missed Loki’s company. He could have told himself that was all it was, but he knew better. Thor was growing bored, feeling himself to be like a caged tiger, feeling unspent energy crawling under his skin like lightning. He missed Loki’s sly voice in his ear and the hand he would run gently down Thor’s back as he spoke to him. He missed the look of greedy anticipation that Loki wore beneath nonchalance as Thor played at considering his ideas, already knowing full well he would do whatever Loki asked.

So he went to Loki’s door, fervent hope thumping in his chest that he would find him alone.
“Brother!” he said when the door was opened to him. “You have been holing up in here too long. I have come to drag you out into the daylight.”

When Loki had balked, standing there with his arms crossed and a dubious expression, Thor had stood shuffling his feet. “You have not had any new ideas, things you would like to go find? Things you would like me to do? Nothing?”

Loki had returned his gaze with mild, baffled amusement. “Why, do you miss my schemes?”

“Yes,” Thor had answered instantly, voice thick, almost ready to burst with the words for what he truly wanted. He longed to have Loki find him useful once more. He wanted to do whatever would please his brother. He ached to follow Loki’s will.

“What’s wrong, Thor? Have you missed me?” Loki asked, eyes innocent and wide. Loki’s hidden smirk had wormed its way inside him, and then Loki had trailed that tender hand down his back.

“Trickster,” Thor had murmured, sparks catching on dry wood.

“Yes,” Loki had answered with a laugh.

“I miss your tricks.”

And somehow, by the end of the night, the wily manipulations of Loki’s mouth had wound them up with Thor buried balls-deep in his brother’s body, kneeling over the slighter frame, shuddering with the intensity of Loki’s gaze. (And Thor wondered then if the months of tepid disinterest had been just another ruse to make him come begging—the thought seared through him and made his prick throb inside Loki’s slicked heat.)

“Tell me what to do,” he had said, bending down to clamp his teeth onto the delicate, pale skin of his brother’s neck, unable to resist.

“Aaah…” Loki gasped at the pain of the bite. “Just like that, Thor. Just like that.”

It was just what Thor needed to hear.

When it was over, he found himself running his thumbs over the dark, bruising marks, wondering how Loki had brought him to that and not regretting it at all.


The next time Loki manipulated Thor into his bed (not that it was difficult; Thor only played at being busy, being tired, being otherwise obligated for the sake of the game—in truth his cock was rock-hard and straining against his clothing as soon as Loki had hinted at what he wanted) Loki began on his knees on the floor, and he looked at Thor with a predatory glint in his eyes as he approached.

“Make me suck you,” Loki said.

Thor watched the way the hunger in Loki’s eyes grew as he released his prick from its captivity, pulled it out and let it prod the air in front of Loki’s face. He saw the way Loki licked his lips and swallowed, saw the quick rise and fall of his breaths.

With one hand, somewhat uncertain, he reached out and nudged Loki’s head towards himself, fingertips gentle against the soft darkness of Loki’s hair. Willingly, easily, Loki’s lips slid open around the red tip of his cock, took it into his mouth.

Thor sighed at the feel of Loki’s tongue caressing his hardness, groaned at the wetness of his mouth and the way his lips closed softly over it, sliding down and drawing back. Of course Loki would be wonderful at this, he thought absently, watching entranced as his prick slipped in and out of wide-stretched lips, and Thor’s hand rested forgotten, curled limply at the back of Loki’s neck.

“Thor,” Loki said, though, after a few moments, pulling back just enough that his breath still wisped past the saliva-damp skin as his eyes flashed fiercely up at his brother through dark lashes, “if you don’t shove your fucking cock down my throat in about two seconds, I’m biting it.”

Naturally, Thor wasted no time tangling his fingers into Loki’s hair and yanking him closer, forcing Loki’s spread lips over his cock, farther, deeper, until he nudged against the back of Loki’s throat and felt the huff of warm breath in the thatch of his hair as Loki’s nose bumped against him. Each time he dragged Loki’s mouth back and forth on his shaft, Loki gave a satisfied hum that resonated down to his toes.

When he looked down, he caught a glimpse of Loki stroking his hand along his own length as he sucked so wantonly, saw the lustful, pleased look on his face as Thor thrust forward into the heat of his mouth, and he felt his belly tense with sudden, overwhelming desire. Much longer and he’d spurt down his brother’s throat; Loki would suck it right out of him. He imagined his seed coating his brother’s tongue, the same tongue that slipped him lies, the same tongue that coaxed and snared and baited him and yielded under his kisses.

“Do you want it in your mouth?” he choked out, sure he ought to ask.

All the response Loki made was a renewed moan as he brought a hand up to Thor’s balls, cupping and stroking them, urging him on. Thor’s thighs trembled as he threw his head back, practically shouting with the force of his orgasm. And when he subsided and Loki’s lips slipped away, Loki smiled wryly up at him and he realized his fingers were still threaded in Loki’s hair.


“Torture me with your cock,” Loki ordered him the next time, the flames in his eyes flaring. “Fuck me slow and deep.” Thor could not help but whimper and obey, and Loki reached to grip him by the arms, his fingers tensing around the muscles of Thor’s biceps, clearly thrilling at the command he had over his brother’s great strength. And Thor obliged him, holding himself up in that position as he drove into Loki in an agonizingly slow rhythm, drawing out and pressing back in, pushing as deep as he could inside him.

It was delicious, the way each measured roll of his hips seemed to drive Loki mad, making him writhe and buck and moan. The heat of him and the scent of him and the unguarded sheen of his eyes—

“Mm, hold me down. Make me take it,” Loki said, raising his arms above his head and stretching his body out, his head tossing to one side and his mouth falling open on a sound of pleasure as Thor did as he was told and pressed Loki’s wrists down against the mattress. He felt Loki’s legs as they wrapped more tightly around him, felt Loki’s hips lifting, trying to press himself against his brother’s body, trying to rub his cock against Thor’s belly.

Loki’s chin tipped back, baring his neck, and he seemed unable to hold back a rush of pleading whines, and he forced out a few strained words between the sounds. “It’s too good… too good, brother. I can’t—I could come right now… make it last, don’t let me… brother, too good…”

So at Loki’s instigation, he circled his hand in a tight grip around the base of Loki’s cock, holding him back from coming until he could hear and feel the rolling, rasping desperation of his body, then at last releasing him to spill, panting and keening, across his own belly as Thor continued to fuck him. Thor couldn’t take his eyes from Loki’s face as he drowned in pleasure and surfaced again, satiated and languorous, his expression subtly shifting into a mischievous smile.

“You are so easy to twist around my fingers, Thor. So easy; you would do whatever your sweet, darling sibling asks,” Loki mocked after he got his breath back, laughing softly and pressing Thor’s face between his hands, bringing him close to kiss him, “even if I told you to spend in me right now and then lick me clean.”

And Thor knew he would, and the taunt in Loki’s words only made a lush shiver run through him.

“In fact, I think I want you to do that. Will you, Thor?”

Thor never could say no to him.


The strange, forbidden relationship that had grown up between them fed upon their commonplace actions, and it bled out of the shadows, into their lives, until Thor was no longer sure what was the enticement and what the goal. The green of Loki’s eyes flashing at him as they lay tangled together in bed, as Loki described some new challenge, some prize or treasure, and the way it felt just a little different to go into a fight knowing that it was for Loki, that his brother had sent him into it with all his schemes hidden behind his secretive smile. With each swing of the hammer he thought of him, of what he was proving: see what I’ll do because you ask it. It made his triumphs sweeter, and when he turned, smeared and splattered with enemies’ blood, to see if the dark-clad sorcerer who fought silent beside him had noted his feats, the look on Loki’s face told him that he would be rewarded later. Loki would on those nights make him feel particularly worthy, particularly deserving. He was rewarded with kisses, with his brother’s pale thighs spread beneath him, and then, of course, with some new command.


But sometimes Loki’s demands threaded him through with bright fear along with the tangles of wanting, and as he had always done, Loki had to draw him into obeying his whims, sometimes with scathing insults, sometimes with wheedling praise and tender kisses.

One such occasion, as Thor looked at him in confusion, Loki brought Thor’s hands to his neck, wrapping them fully around, his nimble fingers guiding and stroking and pressing as if he were instructing Thor in how to handle his prick, not how to choke him out.

“You really want me to… strangle you?” Thor had asked, not sure why the feel of Loki’s graceful neck under his hands excited him so and not sure he should feel that, not sure that he could make himself do something like this to his beloved brother.

“It’s good that you have your beauty and your strength, Thor,” Loki laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, you oaf. I want you to wrap your hands around my neck and squeeze the breath out of me as you fuck me, and I want you to fuck me as if you meant it as a punishment. Do you think you can manage that?”

Thor couldn’t even find his voice to answer. Lust coiling hot and prickling inside him, he obeyed. He choked Loki as he fucked him fast and hard, making Loki’s body bend and twist, making his airless mouth go wide and his eyes squeeze shut. Thor watched in fascination as blood colored Loki’s cheeks a deep crimson, and he could feel the rapid, strong flutter of Loki’s pulse against his hands. And the frantic bucking and writhing of the body beneath his made him bite at his own lip as pleasure welled up; so easily he could have spilled deep inside Loki’s heat, but he wanted to give Loki all of what he asked for, as much and as long and as good as he was able, because whatever Loki wanted was his. Thor was a body for his use, strength at his beck and call, his very own dolt of a brother to manipulate. Just the thought made Thor smile.


Another time he followed Loki’s cryptic instructions and found him in a secluded room in the basements of the palace, and when Loki greeted him, he was standing already stripped to the waist, holding a length of white cord in one hand and a broad strip of thick black leather in the other. And there was in the center of the open expanse of the room a chain dangling down from the ceiling, ending in a hook at approximately waist height. And Thor understood.

Loki was playing with the rope, wrapping it idly around one hand, looping and unlooping it as if enjoying the feel of it against his skin.

“I trust I don’t have to tell you how to tie the right knots, do I, brother?” Loki teased as he put the rope and the leather into Thor’s hands and shimmied out of his trousers, leaving himself wholly bare.

Minutes later, Thor had Loki trussed, the cord winding from wrists to elbows caught on the hook, lifted behind his back so that Loki had no choice but to bend over fully, no choice but to stand perched up on the balls of his feet in a way that sculpted his calves and made the pale curve of his ass look perfectly vulnerable.

By then, Thor’s mouth was practically watering with fantasies of standing behind Loki, wrapping an arm around his waist to help hold him up and stroking his cock or fingering his ass until he screamed—of dropping to his knees, burying his face between Loki’s cheeks and tongue-fucking him as he squirmed against his bonds—of simply stroking, kissing, licking him all over, teasing the straining captive until he jerked and shuddered and came. Fantasies tumbled over themselves in his mind until Loki told him to begin.

“Hurt me,” Loki said in a breathy voice, and Thor couldn’t even bring himself to hesitate, despite the nervous doubt, the ancient impulse to protect Loki from harm—the draw of letting Loki use him as he wished was far too strong. Loki would get whatever he wanted, whatever was in Thor’s power to give.

The strap felt good in his hand, heavy and smooth and wide, and he tapped it against his palm to test the way it fell. Circling slowly, he drank in the sight before him—each minute shift of his brother’s lithe form, each tempting plane of skin.

Usually that would have been the moment that Loki would have chided him, tone imperious despite his bondage, for making him wait, and would have told him to get on with it. But as Thor stepped around again, he caught the clouded look in Loki’s eyes, the distant wonder, and he understood that Loki was anticipating the feel of the blows. Loki was lost in a reverie, and his mouth was slightly open, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. He shifted on his feet almost anxiously.

Watching for the subtle wave of tension that rolled through Loki’s body as he saw what was coming, Thor drew his arm back and swung.


It was like a thunderclap, and a surprised shout tore from Loki’s mouth at the same moment. Loki nearly fell forward with the force of it, the muscles of his shoulders bunching as he tried to steady himself with the balance of the restraints. Loki’s breathing had already quickened and now he seemed to struggle for air, in unsteady gasps and shuddering exhalations as the pain of one blow spread through him. Thor couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to caress the spot, the heated pink outline of the leather, mark of what he had done to his beloved brother. What he would do again and again because it pleased Loki. With his other hand he pressed briefly at his own erection through his trousers.

Lest either of them grow impatient, Thor waited only a moment more before he let the next blow fall.

He reveled in the use of his strength in Loki’s service, the exertion of his muscles as he swung the strip of leather down on Loki’s backside. Each strike made a new swipe of redness bloom on the pale skin. Each blow made the sweetest sounds Thor had ever heard pour out from between Loki’s clenched teeth, and the knowledge that he was the one who could do that to Loki stung in his chest with the most exquisite, precious pain he had ever felt.

And Thor couldn’t help but imagine what Loki would have him do after. How it would feel to sink his cock between the soft, bruised heat of those cheeks. Loki’s body would be twitching and squirming; his prick would hang thick and heavy between his legs; his heaving breaths would strain his bound, wrenched-back shoulders. With Loki so sensitized and overwhelmed, Thor would bring him off, make him come gasping and whimpering in Thor’s hand, pleasure mingling with the echoes of pain, and then Thor would be permitted to release his brother from the bonds, massage the sore tension from his limbs, soothe him with loving touches and kisses to his sweat-damp skin. It would be so good. But for now—


The blows fell, each one jolting through Loki’s body, pain and heat and his heart pounding in his chest and his breath catching in his throat and the delicious pain licking through him like fire.

It was more than just the sensations. It was the knowledge that Thor was doing this to him because he wanted it. The knowledge that Thor had wound the rope around his arms so tenderly, and that they had both already been anticipating what would happen next before the first knot was tied. The knowledge that, though so many in Asgard might have loved to bruise him for all his tricks, the only one whose anger he had ever feared now aimed the lash at the tender flesh where the backs of his thighs met his ass and took loving vengeance on him under his own orders—

If Loki hadn’t been in control of this, he would have hated it utterly. He’d have had to struggle and fight like a trapped beast, and it might very well have ended in fire and destruction. If he hadn’t been in control of Thor as this happened, he wouldn’t have been able to stand it. And no one else but Thor would have even considered giving such control to the trickster.

And, of course, no one else’s cheeks would flush so beautifully pink when Loki ordered him to do whatever he willed—clearly relishing just as much the fact of being so commanded as whatever it was Loki wanted him to do.

Loki cried out and writhed in his bonds as the blows rained down, and tears dripped down his cheeks at the agony and the satisfaction and the sudden release of a taut feeling he hadn’t even known he was holding in the hollow of his chest. And when Thor’s arm, warm and steady and reassuring, came to wrap around him to help hold him in place for yet more blows, he pressed himself against it, grounded himself on it.

Then the blows stopped, leaving him panting, and Thor’s hand stroked his bruised, throbbing backside so gently, rubbing along the overlapped lines, and Thor moved to kneel beside him.

“Was that what you wanted, brother?” he asked, peering at him hesitantly.

Loki could only nod and turn his face toward him, and he closed his eyes, needing to shut out at least something. Thor’s hand brushed the hair back from his forehead and wiped away the tears on his face, leaving only the taste of salt on his lips.


Afterward, during the minutes of drained calm in which they lay side by side (Loki had magicked them to his own chambers afterward, for which Thor was glad), he felt a vague twinge of discomfort. Never before had Loki had him go so far, and though he had certainly enjoyed it, Loki’s reaction had startled him. Not to mention that it would be difficult not to feel a little guilty if his brother would require a pillow to sit on later.

“Why do you want me to do things like that to you?” he’d finally worked up the courage to ask, turning on his side to watch Loki’s face.

Loki had chuckled softly, leaned close to place an adoring kiss on the tip of his nose. “You utter dullard,” Loki said before pressing another kiss to his mouth.

And somehow that was answer enough.