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By Your Mouth Only

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“You oaf,” Loki chided. “I would have thought you learned by now not to go gallivanting with some random girl you meet in the tavern.”

“Why must you use such words, brother?” Thor said, holding his hand over his heart to feign hurt. “Honestly, being called an oaf is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Hm, yes, well I figure I’d leave the wounding to father. Honestly, what were you thinking!”

“But Lokiiiiii, she was so pretty!” Thor whined petulantly.

“And that renders her important enough for you to promise to show her a whole new world?” Loki rolled his eyes. “What is father’s punishment this time?”

“I am not sure yet, he said we would discuss the matter today. Whatever it is, I am sure it was worth it. Did I tell you how pretty she was?”

Loki grumbled and plucked his new spell book on shape-shifting off the nearest shelf to busy himself. A double knock on the door signalled a guard needed their attention, and Loki permitted them entrance.

“My princes,” he addressed, bowing to each of them in turn and then speaking to Thor. “The Allfather has sent for you. He waits in the throne room for you.”

As the guard left, Thor turned to Loki and gulped nervously. Odin's punishments were never fun, and Thor had remembered the last time Odin declared him the new stable boy for ten lunar cycles. He shuddered at the memory.

"Just remember Thor, she was very pretty," Loki smirked, shooing his brother out of his room.


"Father!" Thor whined.

"Silence!" The Allfather rubbed his temples, clearly trying to fend off the headache.

“But you cannot be serious!”

“I am indeed serious,” Odin said wearily. “It is only fitting that you see what it is like on the other end of your bargains.”

“But… But Asgard cannot see their prince working in a tavern! It is degrading!”

“And what you have been doing to these poor women is not?” Odin asked bewilderedly. “A lunar cycle you will spend in the tavern, that is final. Let Álfljótr see to it that you learn your lesson.”

A thump of Gugnir sealed the sentence.




The first night had not been terrible. Álfljótr tried extremely hard not to show his glee at having the golden prince of Asgard work for him, but his ugly features showed otherwise. The elf was mangled , a defect from birth, and caused his people to turn on him instantly. He fled to Asgard as a young man who sought to make a haven for even the ugliest of men to have pleasure – and became the most famous tavern-owner in all the realms. He had Thor clean the floors of spilt ale and food, scrub the walls and tables, and take out the trash. The only issue that night came when an enormous man, twice Thor’s width promised him a good time and a “sore ass” should they spend the night together. Álfljótr stepped in just in time to save Thor (his tavern) and gently remind (scold) him for being so quick to lose his temper. Thor could barely look anyone in the eyes after that.

The second night consisted of Thor serving those who sat at the raised bar, practicing his calmness when whistled or hooted at. . Álfljótr assured him that he was unrecognizable underneath his low hood that hid his hair and thin scarf that covered the bottom of his face. Still, he voiced his disgust to Álfljótr, who in turn looked at him with a bemused smile and recited in a high-pitched voice, “Oh, but I am a prince of Asgard! I could show you a whole new world!”

“I do not sound like that,” Thor grumbled to the laughing elf, though he was beginning to actually feel remorse for all the women he had tried to sway with that line.


The third and fourth nights went by in similar fashion, and Thor truly began to wonder if he came off so atrociously. The men in the bar were pigs, their hands groping and pawing, their words slurred by the sheer amount of ale they consumed, and it seemed as though they had no concern for who – or what they wolf-whistled at. Honestly, how drunk did one have to be to think that the coat rack was the fairest maiden in all the land? Thor found himself shaking his head in a very Odin-like manner over these days, vowing to never partake in such activities ever again.

However, as much progress as Thor made in seeing women in a whole new light was promptly thrown away when a hooded beauty stepped into the bar. Her long black hair tumbled out from underneath her hood in perfect contrast to her ivory skin. Her nose was thin and slightly pointed, her lips thin and painted a dangerous red. Thor managed to catch a glimpse of flashing emerald before she turned to scan the bar for a seat. She sat close by a group of rowdy men who had so much to drink they didn’t even acknowledge the women who drew the eyes of every man in the room.


“… And then, she screamed for me to have my way with her! And let me tell you, she sure got it,” the man said with a wink.

“Oi! She was the loud one! Nearly ruined my way, Norns would have it that I got the shy one,” his friend complained.

The first man laughed and mimicked her, “Oh, oh, you’re so big! I don’t know if you’ll fit! Oh! Oh!” His falsetto moaning sent the men into fits of laughter as the exchanged more impersonations. They were so caught up that none of them noticed the woman peering at them curiously, her cloak wound around her tightly as her hands disappeared beneath the fabric, or the growing flush on her face.


“I must have her,” Thor declared to Fandral the next morning. He was the only one Thor told about his punishment, the only one that would understand the conquest of women as he did. Hogun was too reserved, Volstagg didn’t care for women nearly as much as he cared for food, and Sif more disgusted with Thor than Odin was. Thor contemplated telling Loki, but figured his brother would sneer at him, so it left Fandral, the only other one to have been in his position.

“I see you have learned much,” Fandral quipped. "Besides, you say this about every woman you are enchanted by in the brothel."

“You do not understand, she was not just pretty, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on,” Thor protested. “I cannot help but feel as though I’ve seen her before though.”

“Let me guess, you once promised to show her a whole new world?”

“By gods, does everyone have to use that against me?”



Each night, Thor looked for the woman, and on some nights he was granted his wish, though he never knew how to approach her. She was an odd customer, never ordering anything until halfway through her night. She sat, with her back to the bar, and was content to stay in the same position until those around her left. On this night, Thor grew curious. He pretended to clean off some of the nearby tables, straining to overhear the men’s conversations. This large group happened to be talking about a conquest in Alfheim, where a squadron captain had insisted they take a young elf as agreement to retreat from their land.

“You shoulda heard him scream my name when I told him I’d fuck him into the ground,” one boasted.

“Not nearly as impressive when I made him beg for my cock,” another would say, trying to one-up the men around him.

“Well I made him beg for his own release, and he nearly shed tears for how good I was making him feel.”

“I didn’t even have to command him to suck me off, he took the whole thing in that hot little mouth of his without a second thought!”

Thor noticed the woman shifting ever so often, her body seemed to squirm uncomfortably, and Thor figured she was disgusted with how these men were treating their prize. Noticing the delicately curved nose, he thought that perhaps she was from Alfheim, and couldn’t stand the way they spoke of her fellow men.

“Time to call it a night, men,” he commanded gruffly. They may have been guards, but they were all slighter than him, and with a dirty look from Álfljótr, they left before they caused any trouble, muttering obscene things under their breath.

“I’m sorry that they bothered you,” he said quietly to the woman, whose body had since stopped writhing, though her breathing was a little erratic.

“It is no business of yours, you oaf!” she hissed as she got up quickly to whisk out of the tavern, her cloak billowing around her.

Thor stared after her incredulously, wondering how it was possible that anyone else in Asgard even used the word “oaf”.



It had been seven days of Thor’s punishment that Loki showed up to spar with them. Being a rather rare occasion, everyone had to call turns with him, though nobody ever protested when Thor claimed his chance. They met with fierce smiles as usual before raising their weapons; lightweight polearms, long and sharp. As they circled each other, Thor couldn’t help but stare into Loki’s eyes, which were constantly flitting around, trying to find anything in their surroundings to tip the fight – flashes of emerald, scanning…

When he made a move to bring his polearm down on the younger god’s shoulder, Loki twisted, his hair coming loose from behind his ear – a lock of sleek black hair, tumbling…

In his determination to win against his annoyingly all-knowing brother, he threw himself into the fight, parrying and slashing harshly enough to splinter Loki’s weapon completely. When there was nothing left, he pounced on the slighter god, pinning him to the ground.

“Being pinned down won’t do you any good in a real fight, brother,” Thor said smugly. “I could have my way with you and you’d be helpless to stop me.”

Loki’s eyes widened and beneath his pale skin, the creeping blush was inevitably noticeable. He struggled underneath Thor, kicking his legs up Thor’s back. Thor narrowed his eyes. “Are you… blushing like a fair maiden?” he asked amusedly.

“Shut up,” Loki hissed, turning his face to avoid eye contact.

When Thor noticed how perfectly angled his nose was, and how his reddened cheeks glowed, he finally put all of it together. The eyes, the hair, the shape-shifting spell book, the flushing at his words...

“Get off of me already, you great big oaf!” Loki commanded as he pushed Thor off, catching him in Thor’s state of distraction.

… The calling of him an “oaf”.

Thor stared after Loki, storming off the field and quickly set off after him.


Upon reaching his chambers, Loki quickly tossed aside his dirtied clothing, letting the dirt gather on the floor. He cursed Thor out of frustration, but not for losing - for being the final piece. It had been weeks since Loki had found satisfaction, and it had been an ongoing puzzle to him. The women he took to bed were no longer satisfying, his own hand, even his tricks – even transforming into a woman’s body – had not done the trick. When he had slipped into taverns scattered across the realms to seek out other distractions, he stumbled across the ultimate factor to his pleasure. He would listen to men speak of their conquests, women and men, in the most foul ways possible, and only then could he feel himself stirring. Still, it was just short of enough to send him over the edge. He needed more - he needed Thor. He collapsed on the bed, naked and aroused, painfully wanting release.

Hearing Thor speak, even when it had not been intentional, had caused his body to betray him right then and there on the practice field. He slowly dipped his hand between his legs, and closed his eyes. He thought about the way Thor towered over him, his bronze muscles gleaming with sweat from practicing in the sun. He craved the deep, throaty voice that had called him helpless and maybe – maybe he wanted to be deemed helpless, pinned underneath the –

“Loki! I’m coming in!”

Loki cursed loudly, flinging the bed sheets across himself just in time as Thor nearly broke the door off its handle. The pale god looked like a deer in the headlights, silently screaming at Thor for his intrusion. It took Thor only a moment to piece together what happened prior to his interruption, and what Loki’s intentions were, and found himself being excited by the thought.

“Fair maiden from the tavern,” he accused.

“Get out,” Loki commanded, his voice sharp as a blade.

“Not until I have you,” Thor retaliated, stripping off his armour from the day. Loki could only gape at him, wondering if he had actually heard right. He couldn’t doubt he heard right any more when Thor strutted over to the bed, clad in only his thin cloth shorts, his eyes filled with a fierce predatory look.

“I know you want this, to be beneath me, to be helpless in my hands.”

Loki gulped. Perhaps Thor wasn’t the dullest creature as he had recently thought, and a part of him was sincerely glad that Thor had figured out the whole thing. The heat was almost unbearable as Thor crawled on top of him, settling between his legs, throwing the sheets to the side.

“I know what you crave, Loki. To be fucked like a common whore. Let me show you what it feels like to be truly filled.”

Loki quivered at the thought, his cock twitching in anticipation in Thor’s hand.

“Th-Thor,” he stuttered.

“Hush, Loki.” Thor commanded as he allowed his hands to wander the trembling body. “You are not allowed to speak, or I may have to punish you.”

Loki opted to whine instead, his member aching for an overdue release, with Thor slowing down instead.

“Thor!” he growled, his frustration making him forget about Thor’s warning.

He found himself flipped onto stomach, and Thor’s large hand coming down with a loud slap. Loki yelped, and found himself earning another hard smack across his bottom.

“What did I say, hmm?” Thor asked rhetorically as he pulled on his own hardened cock. He swiped his fingers over the leaking head, smearing pre-come across his fingers. They found their way to Loki’s entrance, which clenched and unclenched invitingly. He slipped two fingers in, revelling in the low moan from the body underneath him. “You like this, don’t you? Sticking your ass up in the air like a wench, begging to be fucked.”

With Thor’s fingers deep inside him, and a third one making its way in, Loki was halfway to delirium, his body and mind screaming with pleasure. The only noise he could muster was a “nnnng” when Thor’s fourth finger forced its way in.


It should have been painful, with his bottom already reddened and burning with pain, but Loki’s eyes rolled back at the sensation.

“You’re only allowed to answer me this,” Thor teased. “What do you want me to do?”

Loki flushed even further, embarrassed by the control Thor had over him, embarrassed by what his mind and body truly yearned for. “Release,” he answered simply. He should have known that Thor wasn’t going to accept that.

With another harsh slap, he asked again in a rougher tone. “What do you want me to do to you, Loki?”

Caving in slightly, he replied softly. “I want you to keep talking to me.”

“Is that all?”

Loki swallowed. “I want you to keep talking to me… as you fuck me.”

“Good boy,” Thor answered, and rewarded him with a push of his cock, just enough to get back the tight ring of muscle. “Scream for me, Loki.”

Loki obliged without any more encouragement. With his buttocks firmly grasped in each of Thor’s hands, being spread wide, and his hole being stretched wider than it had even been before, he cried out over and over again, letting Thor’s name scratch his throat.

When Thor sheathed himself completely, he muttered into Loki’s ear, “Look at you, begging for my cock, screaming for me, what a sight you are. Do you like this, brother? Do you like being at my mercy, being pounded by a cock as large as mine?”

“Y-yes,” he replied between gasping for air as Thor slammed into him roughly from behind.

“You like being filled and stretched like a slut, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” Loki sobbed dryly this time. “Just l-like that. M-more.”


“Who said you could tell me what to do, you little whore? You’re going to take this, take me, all of me, and you’re going to come when I tell you to.”

“N-no, please,” Loki pleaded. “Let me c-“

“No,” Thor growled. “You’re my little whore for the night, and I’m not finished with you. You’re going to keep screaming my name until it is the only thing you remember. You’re going to submit to me, and let me have my way with you.”

Loki was absolutely writhing in the sheets, desperately grabbing onto the fabric to fight the urge of palming his erection captured between him and the sheets, trying to wriggle his hips into the mattress instead, so desperate for friction. Tears threatened to escape his eyes as his body was sent into frenzy for the first time in too long, his pent up frustration so close to spilling over the edge.

“I’m going to claim you, mark you as mine,” Thor said, gripping Loki’s hips harder, no doubt leaving his very fingerprints behind. “And you will always be mine, mine, my – little – cock – slut.” He emphasized each word with a hard thrust, hard enough to send shocks into Loki’s bones.

“Br-brother, I ca-can’t,” Loki gasps, winded by Thor’s vigour. “I’m go-ing to-“

“Then come for me, my whore,” Thor growls low in his throat.

Loki hardly needed Thor to command him, spilling all over the sheets beneath him, trembling as he did so. His arms and legs gave out immediately, Thor holding him up and using Loki to finish himself. He held his boneless brother close to his chest, raising the figure up and down while jerking his hips upward to meet the moaning, limp figure.

When Thor came, Loki shivered with pleasure at feeling the hot semen inside him, dripping out after Thor pulled out. As Thor rolled them to the side to avoid Loki’s mess, the younger brother let out a contented sigh.

“Perhaps you were right about showing them a whole new world,” he sighs in a sleepy voice, curling his body into the warmth of Thor's chest and ignoring Thor's harrumph in return.