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In the Heat of Night

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Loki was searching for Thor. Well, searching may have been the lightest of verbs to use in the sense, as Loki was desperately running through the halls to catch even a glimpse of his husband. And with ever passing second, the desperation was getting worse. Loki could feel the itch moving up his fingertips, ability to hold it back no longer there.

He wasn't in their bedchambers (though it would have been so very helpful), but neither was the king in the throne room. In fact, no matter where Loki seemed to look, his brother and lover was nowhere to be seen. It almost looked as if Loki would have been thrown into madness, until he gave up with a near-pained groan and quickly forced himself back to his and Thor's bedchambers. He knew that it couldn't be held out for much longer. With Asgard's many, shining moons rising faster and faster in the sight from the window, Loki knew he was in for nothing but torture.

So he begrudgingly forced himself to lock the door. Thor, as he did from time to time, must have left for a peacekeeping trip and not informed the trickster. Though rare, it was the most unfortunate of times for it to fall upon. Because Loki needed nothing and nobody more than his husband with him right then and there. Needed Thor in ways only a lover could give.

The man almost whimpered when he released the last tendrils of magic keeping his Aesir glamour upon his form, letting it draw back like curtains from his body to reveal the soft, deep blue flesh where tan and pink had been. From his legs, up to near-quivering thighs, stomach, chest and arms. Finally, once it was past his face, Loki could not begin to deny what he had been fearing. There was a flutter of emotion in his stomach, of something he had grown to know so very well with himself.

If there was one thing that Loki deeply hated about being a Jotun, and one thing only: his heat.

It curled around his stomach, his torso, and not even a minute later his entire body was enraptured in it. The raw need to be held down and taken like some horny maiden. It was almost debilitating, how it made Loki close his eyes and moan, even though all he was doing was sitting on the edge of his and Thor's lavish bed, legs spread wide in attempt to seduce a proper male to take seat between them and fuck Loki into pleasurable oblivion. But obviously, there was nobody in the room to seduce, and it aggravated Loki to no end. He needed Thor, needed the man like one would water in the harshest desert.

"...B-brother..." Loki couldn't help how pitiful he sounded, how his voice strained high and soft. He hated how he felt so wide open and vulnerable, body lit with fiery lust and passion. But most of all, Loki hated how he didn't have someone to take care of him and his need, how Thor had to be so far away from him. He wanted Thor, wanted him so bad. "Thor...Thor..."

His mewls were small and soft, and finally Loki had the sense to properly pull himself onto the bed, body splayed out and far too hot to be wearing as much clothing as he was. So with haste, he stripped himself of what he had, vest, pants, and every little bit of decor that hung from him. And for those few minutes of undressing, Loki cursed his inability to properly notice what day it was of the season. How could he have been almost a week late with telling it? Normally the trickster was so good with keeping track of his heats, able to time them to the precise date, then ensuring that Thor knew, so the blonde brute (so loving, so wonderful, so protective) would be able to clear his entire day just to attend to Loki.

But the raven-haired Jotun knew better than just to lay there helplessly while his body was trembling in lust. Considering that Thor was not going to come for him, he decided the best (and honestly, the only) way to sate his heat was to pleasure himself.

Loki prided on his love of sex and sexual need. He loved how he could shamelessly drape himself over Thor, even while his husband was busy speaking to an adviser (and while even on the throne, no less). But now, Loki had problems keeping his cheeks from lighting up a bright purple in just moving himself onto hands and knees and splaying himself open. His cock bobbed painfully hard between two aqua thighs, already shiny and wet with precum. On hands and knees and ready for one gloriously big cock (which wasn't really there) to take him properly. Loki could imagine how beautifully it was curved, how it would slot inside his tight body, pulse with every heartbeat within him...

"Th-Thor!" Loki gasped when he pushed a hand down and between his legs, two long and slender fingers barely teasing the rim of his entrance. The tips moved in tight little circles, smearing the slick that Loki's body had been quick to produce in his barely-starting heat. Slick to lube himself up, to let a hot, hard cock just slide right up and in until it hit the right spot.

Soon, he was writhing, rutting down and into the bed with his thin fingers still teasing at the rim. As much as his body wanted him to push them up and in, to force those tight, clenching muscles open, Loki knew that wouldn't be what his lover would do. Thor would have teased Loki, make him beg and plead to be taken like a maiden just because Thor knew Loki liked it. It was always so good when his golden brother did it, and it drove the trickster to absolute wanton abandon in just /thinking/ that his brother could have been there doing it to him. The size was all too wrong (Thor's fingers where stronger, thicker), but he made do with what he had.

Loki wished to tease himself further, but he knew that it was no substitute for his lover. "...Thor." He whimpered, rolling his hips in small circles around the now three fingers that pressed to his clenching muscles. He missed him with an aching heart and a throbbing cock. How Thor would smirk down at him, commenting one way or another on Loki's wanton behavior, but would give him release all the same. How Thor would part his curved cheeks, lean in and just /lick/. He wouldn't do more than just that, merely lapping the tip of his tounge around Loki's hole. And it was always so good, so very good and Loki could never stand long before releasing hard, spurting long white stripes onto the bedsheets.

The fact that his heat seemed to multiply everything a thousandfold, the Jotun sobbed at the thought. He couldn't hold it back any longer. Blue fingers pushed and breached him without a second's more of hesitation, and it made Loki practically /writhe/ with abandon. He mewled and cried out with happy pleasure, feeling spread open in a way that satisfied his heat. Three full, thin fingers pushed as far as they could, before pulling back and starting the cycle of fevered pushing and pulling. It was enough to make Loki's body curl in on itself, focusing only on the pleasure of his fingers scissoring deeper, as deep as they could go.

But they weren't Thor's. They were too small, too soft, too smooth for the illusion to even hint at being there. Instead, Loki found himself even more frustrated than before. He didn't want /just/ to be opened up. He wanted to be fucked proper, wanted to be filled by the thickest and hottest of cocks, feel it spewing seed deep into his willing and pliant body. He wanted Thor to breed him, wanted the blonde warrior to push as deep as he could and mate with Loki as his body yearned for. His heat called for a mating, called for Loki to be filled so full of release, there would be little in avoiding him conceiving a child. Then round he would grow, belly bumping out in a delicious reminder that it was Thor who had bred him just right, and Loki was carrying their child. Of course, the timing of the heat should have been better placed, though at the moment, Loki couldn't honestly find the mental ability to complain.

He was a breath away from going utterly insane with lust and primal want when he heard a loud banging upon the bedchamber's locked door. The small Jotun curled up instinctively, body on it's side, and hand down between his thighs. He didn't want to be bothered by anyone at all but his lover. He didn't want to think that someone may take advantage of him in his needy state, wanted to know that instead it would be Thor who would always protect him like he should in his dominant birthright.

But a soft gasp caught between dark lips when a throaty voice called through the door. "Loki?" It bellowed, and the door clamored again with sound. "Loki? Are you in there? I heard word that you fell ill."

If the younger Odinson had the ability, he would have laughed in the face of Thor's apparent ignorance. But instead all that rose to te surface was a desperate whine of Thor's name. The turn of the air was instant and obvious; even Thor couldn't be oblivious to what the true situation was upon that noise from Loki's lips.

Loki smiled as Thor became fiercer with the door; the small blue form couldn't be forced or bothered to get up and open the door (he was certain anyways that his thighs would be dripping wet, as the sound of his lover's husky voice made him shudder with new wetness). Thor pushed and forced his weight and strength, until with a distant-sounding CRACK, the lock was broken. He pushed the door open instantly, wood and metal making odd sounds of broken distress, but he hurried in anyway.

"Brother-" Thor stopped himself and gazed on what he saw; Loki's slender body lain upon his side on their bed, one hand pushed down between those soft thighs (which were obviously quivering) and his hand upon that arm doing things Thor could only begin to imagine. "Your heat is-"

"Early, early I know brother, but--ah, but I need--I--need....Brother....!" With an arch, it was obvious to assume that Loki's fingertips just barely brushed against the tight bundle of nerves within himself. Thor took a step closer, eyes wide and tongue out to lick at his lips. Loki felt nothing less than proud to know he had stopped the mighty King Thor dead in his steps, staring upon Loki as if he were the juiciest slab of meat in all the nine realms.

"What are you w-waiting for?" Loki demanded softly, watching as his lover took his sweetest time in nearing the bed, gently crawling upon it and just as slowly stroking a hand up and down his sensitive side. "Thor...Thor, I need--I need you to mate with me. Please brother, please, I need you so badly...!" His words quiped in a high straining squeak when his slender fingers brushed over that pure-hot spot within him once more. "Take me! Take me please!"

Thor's lips pulled wide in a show of lusting hunger, hunger for the blue beauty that lain before his very eyes, needing his cock to sate those hot desires. There was the lowest of growls from the thunderer, and before another second could pass, he was stripped and naked.

He mounted Loki in less than time than it took the Jotun to consider begging again, fingers being forcefully pulled from his stretched entrance. And just as Loki felt a hot, pulsing pressure pushing at his entrance, he could hear Thor's low voice next to his ear.

"I am going to ravish you until the sun rises once more, brother. You beg to be taken proper, plead to be pulled apart by nothing more than my hard cock. Then let it be so, my needy love, let me sate your desires to be bred nice and full with young. Perhaps this season indeed, I shall breed you as you should be."

And Loki knew that Thor meant every single word.