When Thor first learned he was to be wed to a Jotun, he flew into a rage that lasted a full day and night. He decimated his rooms and brought down a storm so violent that it shook the palace walls, his howls of anguish echoing down the corridors.
He had expected his marriage to be a matter of political alliance, but with Jotunheim?
He had killed enough frost giants to know what they look like.
“What man could chide himself to bed with that?” he demanded of Odin. “The whole realm will laugh me to scorn to see me towered over by my own bride!” A troubling thought struck Thor. “Do they even have women? I’ve never seen one!”
Odin’s face was ashen, but his expression remained implacable. “You will find their prince is well able to assist you in the production of an heir.”
“Prince?” Thor repeated. “Prince? I don’t understand, how–”
“You are not meant to understand, foolish boy,” Odin roared, gearing up for a tantrum of his own. “You are to do as you’re told!”
Thor felt sick with apprehension as the doors of the great hall opened to admit the party of his betrothed. As the troupe of giants entered, he glanced from one great stocky figure to another, trying to discern which was prince and which honour guard. The giants halted before the dais and a Jotun who apparently served as herald stepped forward to announce: “his royal highness, Prince Loki of Jotunheim.” The frontmost guards then withdrew and forward stepped a smaller, slighter figure who had been kept hidden by the size of his escorts.
Thor came down off the dais to meet him, finding he had no idea how to address or acknowledge the creature before him. Prince Loki was almost exactly his own height, but that detail aside they could not be more different. He was...
Exotic was the only word Thor could think of. The prince was the dark indigo of the rest of his race, and bore the customary intricate sigil-like raised lines on his face and near-naked body. Unlike the rest of the frost giants, he had hair – thick, lustrous and dark (obviously a point of pride given the complexity with which it was looped and braided).
Still more strikingly, his body appeared to drip with gold. There was a heavy gold torc around his neck, and his long, thin fingers were laden with rings and his wrists with bracelets. Thor counted ten gold rings through each of his ears, an exquisitely fine chain connecting the first of these that dangled from his left earlobe to a finer ring through his nose. Thor’s gaze then became fixated on the rings that adorned the prince’s chest, passing through the tender flesh of his dark blue areolae, each joined with a sapphire. There were precious gems in the torc and woven into the prince’s hair, and from his navel hung a bright carbuncle. He shimmered and glinted in the torchlight.
“Well,” said the prince, casting a casual eye over Thor, “I suppose I should say it’s an honour.”
Thor opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue felt thick and useless. The prince raised a tapered eyebrow and turned his head towards Odin. “Allfather, you didn’t say he was a halfwit. This changes the terms of our bargain.”
“He is not a–” Odin seemed to consider it for a moment, changing tack. “He can speak and reason as well as any man here.”
“Mmm,” said Loki, his shrewd gaze flicking around the room. “Well,” he continued, “as you can see, I have brought my dowry with me. Shall we proceed?”
“Do I please you?” Loki asked when the nuptials and feast were over and they were finally alone in Thor’s chamber. “I believe your father had some concerns that I wouldn’t. You are no lover of my race, I understand.” He stood by a table and began to remove the jewelry that was not intimately connected with his person. The rings and bracelets went plink, plink musically as he cast them onto the hard wood surface.
“You are... not like the rest of your people,” Thor commented, still unable to fully articulate his shock.
Loki threw him a glare. “You mean because I’m short?”
“There is that. And the Jotnar are a plain-dressed, whereas you...” Thor gestured in a vague, awkward way.
Loki gave a bark of laughter, face twisting in resentment. “This? It is a custom of ours. When we are wed, the party of lesser estate must bear with him his contribution. It must be no more than he can carry – that is to avoid the ruination of his kin. If he is unsure of his welcome he makes it so that the household he seeks cannot simply take the treasure and cast him out.” He brushed the rings of his ear with a dark-nailed fingertip.
“They could take it from a corpse, ” Thor observed, pulling his tunic and undershirt off over his head all in one go.
Loki laughed, and this time it sounded utterly delighted. ‘Can and sometimes do – but you would not find me so easy to get rid of.”
“You’re a sorcerer,” Thor said, thinking back to the feast, and all the odd accidents that seemed to occur around Loki – snakes from wine goblets, warriors falling face-first into their dinners.
“Oh, yes. That is the invisible part of my value, and it made my father loath to part with me.” Loki lifted off the torc and laid it by, rolling his shoulders. “However, your Odin drives a hard bargain.”
Thor began to unlace his boots. “So what did your people receive to compensate them your loss?”
“An artifact taken from us during the war. The heart of our realm.” Loki came forward to where Thor sat on the bed, placing his fingertips beneath Thor’s chin to tilt back his head. “And in return, I am to be your right hand and aid you in governance.” He squeezed Thor’s thickly-muscled upper arm, gaze becoming openly seductive, “for where even such impressive force as your fails, guile and trickery may yet succeed.” Loki tugged lightly at Thor’s beard, apparently fascinated by its texture. “And there is the matter of an heir. The old man seems obsessed with it.”
Thor swallowed thickly. “That is the part I am unsure about.”
“Oh, don’t fret – I’ve lain with Aesir before.” Loki covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows raising in an exaggerated show of dismay. “Oh dear, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I? You warriors prefer your spouses untouched.”
“What kind did you lie with,” Thor enquired, “men or women?”
Loki pursed his lips, an expression of puzzlement at odds with the intelligence of his glittering eyes. “Which is which again?”
Thor had enough of the tightly-coiled feeling of anticipation in the pit of his stomach. He leaned forward, half-rising to catch Loki’s smirking mouth in a kiss.
Loki gave a low hum of pleasure and sank down onto the bed, knees either side of Thor’s thighs. They kissed with their eyes open, mapping each other’s forms with open curiosity.
“Am I as strange to you as you to me?” Thor asked, breathless as he pressed kisses to the elegant column of Loki’s neck, following the lines on his skin to his pectoral and tugging on the ring anchored there very lightly with his teeth.
Loki hissed and then studied him with his eyes like glowing embers. “As I said, I have known others of your kind... yet, you are as unlike them as an eagle to sparrows, or a lion to mewling kittens.” He pushed his fingers back through Thor’s hair. “And far more golden than I.”
Thor’s fingers felt clumsy on the buckle of the single garment Loki wore around his hips. Loki took his fumbling hand and pulled it to his own inner thigh. “Perhaps touch will serve better than sight, at least at first.” His lips turned up and the corners when Thor shot him a suspicious look. “I assure you, there is nothing there that will bite you.”
Thor moved his hand beneath the hem of the cloth and into the unknown, fingers groping in a way that made Loki gasp and twitch his hips. The first thing Thor could distinguish was something metallic, then a second object much the same – another row of rings, he realised. Moving his fingers to one side he found another set the same, and pressing in between brought the familiar wetness of a woman’s sex.
“There, is that reassuring?” Loki asked, rocking against his palm.
“Let me see you,” Thor insisted, taking his hand away.
Loki rolled his eyes and unlatched his garment.
“Oh...” said Thor. “You’re both.” He tried to lick his lips but found his tongue dry, throat bobbing as he gazed downwards and took in the sight. Loki’s prick was adorned at its head with yet another ring, the labia beneath it pierced in two rows, much like his ears.
He cautiously reached out to touch the ring where it emerged from Loki’s tip. “Does it hurt?”
“Not now that it’s healed. You don’t have to touch it if you don’t want–”
“But I do,” Thor reassured eagerly, closing his hand around the shaft as he leaned down to taste. Loki hissed and grabbed his head, long nails pricking pleasantly on Thor’s scalp.
There was no more pause or delay. Thor sucked Loki halfway to utter distraction and licked into him until he made a strange keening sound, toes curling and flexing. The laces of Thor’s leggings were torn open in Loki’s impatience as he pulled the Aesir prince by the hip towards where he wanted him, letting Thor breach him in one long thrust before gripping his waist with his knees and rolling them both over so he was perched on top.
It was like sex and fighting all in one glorious encounter. Thor bucked up into Loki, holding tightly onto his waist as Loki hissed through his teeth and rocked back against him. Then – out of sheer contrariness – Thor wrestled the other prince onto his front on the bed, pulling Loki’s arse up into the air and pushing between his wet folds from behind. Loki stared back at him and then sniggered, as if deeply amused by Thor’s daring.
It was not just the tightness and surprising warmth that aroused Thor, but the sight of the flushed redness of his own flesh in stark contrast to Loki’s dusky blue. When Loki climaxed with a final shove and strangled gasp, Thor pulled back until just his tip remained inside, letting his come paint Loki’s cunt and the golden rings his trembling thighs set jangling.
“Well, that wasn’t the most coordinated fuck I’ve ever had,” Loki commented, lying with on arm behind his head. “Still... reassuring.”
“Are you going to keep these?” Thor continued to play absently with the ring on his right pectoral.
“At least until I’m a corpse,” Loki turned his head to regard Thor, who took the opportunity to steal another kiss. “Why do they fascinate you so much anyway?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You’re so... not like an Asgardian. I didn’t expect to enjoy that.”
“I’m not like anyone,” Loki told him, perfectly serious in his pomposity. “Tell me, my spouse, how do you feel about ruling the nine realms?”
Thor laughed, sleepy and content. “All nine? Isn’t that aiming a little high?”
“Hm,” Loki turned over and rested his pointed chin on Thor’s broad chest. “Well, we’ll start with Asgard. There are a lot of scattered provinces that could be brought more effectively under control.” Then he smiled, running the point of his tongue over his top row of teeth. “And the Allfather looks tired, don’t you think? I’d say it’s nearly time for him to have a good, long sleep.”
Thor had been listening to the latest petitioner for quite some time, his eyelids drooping closed as the man droned on. He was startled back to waking by the note of a horn, announcing the arrival of the royal consort.
Loki was pointedly pregnant, one hand ever upon full-swelling stomach as if to draw attention to it. He had been that way for years, by Thor’s reckoning – apparently a Jotun child arrived whenever it damn well pleased and this one was in no hurry to leave the security of its current home.
Loki continually talked to it in a low, familiar mutter.
“Ah,” he said, rubbing his belly in a circle, widdershins. “Who have we here, Thor?” he offered Thor his free hand in passing, and Thor pressed his lips to Loki’s knuckles, the only space visible between his golden rings and bracelets.
“I am the ambassador from Nornheim–”
“Did I speak to you?” Loki snapped, settling himself into his throne. The ambassador dropped his eyes and began to wring his hands together.
Thor scratched his chin to hide a smile. “Do go on, ambassador. You were saying – about the treaty?”
“Yes, you see much as Nornheim wishes to honour the high king of the realm, it’s simply impossible–”
“I don’t think Lady Karnilla has any respect for you at all, Thor,” Loki cut in. “Let us call their bluff and kill this blustering fool.” He leaned forward, gripping the arms of his throne as his red eyes narrowed. “My child is hungry.”
The ambassador let out an undignified yelp, taking a step back and looking wildly between Loki and the king, clearly trying to decide whether Thor would really allow him to meet such a gruesome fate.
“Well, I for one am inclined to believe there is no disrespect intended on the Lady Karnilla’s part, but I’m afraid Prince Loki is of a hastier temper.” Thor glanced admiringly at Loki, as extravagantly regal and unapologetically alien as the first day he set foot in Asgard; gold, red and blue and shimmering.
Loki drummed his fingernails, leaning forward with an avid look on his face. “Tell the Norn Queen to reconsider her position. Ask her if she would really rather be in our path than at our right hand.” He then gave a derisive cluck of his tongue as the ambassador tried to scuttle out of the room without turning his back to either of them.
Loki rubbed his stomach again in a thoughtful attitude, and after a moment he let out a sudden peal of laughter.
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking – I hope Karnilla doesn’t do anything as tedious as accept our terms. I like her.”
Thor rolled his eyes. “You know she’s Balder’s lover don’t you? You’re not doing this just to spite him?”
Loki touched his long fingers to his lips. “I’m disappointed you think I ever have only one motive.”
Thor laughed. “I’m very glad I’m not in your path, that's all.”
Loki leaned his cheek on his hand and cast Thor an indulgent look across the throne room. “Oh, I’m glad of that too.”