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But your innocence is mine

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“The stables are not where I expected to find you, brother.”

Thor approaches slowly, but even at a sedate pace like this his steps ring loudly in the cavernous space of the royal stables. Stealth and subtlety have never been among Thor’s stronger suits, Loki thinks mirthlessly. And why should they, when he has the ability to crush most living being with his unparalleled strength alone. 

Unlike Loki. He slinks in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. It’s an art, however ill respected among his people, and Loki has mastered and brought it to perfection. Yet another difference between them, one more thing to set them apart.

Loki exhales quietly and leans his hands more heavily on the gate of the stall in front of him. It seems there is no peace to be had for him tonight.

”Is there something I can assist you with?” Loki asks resignedly. Centuries of experience have taught him that Thor on a mission is as stubborn as a dog with a bone, and Loki is too worn out to argue with him. 

When he turns he sees that Thor already has shed his armor and formal red cloak, wearing only a light tunic and breeches under an old fur cloak against the chill of the night air. It seems that the small party of diplomats from Nornheim has finally left. Loki looks at the open door and is surprised to see the stars illuminating the sky. It’s already the wee hours of the night and he must have been here for hours, coming to the stables after he excused himself from the festivities, claiming fatigue. 

Loki has no taste for Karnilla and Nornheim’s womenfolk, if nothing else because the seeresses and Karnilla are among the few people who are powerful enough to cross his path. Worse, they have done so repeatedly. 

He also has no care whether the blatant lie he used as an excuse for his absence displeased the Allfather.

“Aye,” Thor answers, coming to stand right before Loki. 

They are almost of the same height, but without the heavy bulk of his armor Loki almost feels small next to his brother’s thick muscle. There are times when it pleases and excites him, but not now, not when when Thor scowls and crosses his tightly muscled arms, using his larger frame to try to intimidate him. 

Let him try, Loki thinks. Thor needs not know that it’s not what physical harm he may do to Loki that makes Loki fear him. It is his capability to destroy Loki by simply withholding or revoking the things Loki craves most. Love. Respect.

“Our bed was cold without you,” Thor says when Loki stays silent and simply lifts a brow in question. “I came here looking for you, but now I’d like to ask what business Tyr had here with you. I saw him leaving mere minutes ago. Quite hastily I might say.”

“Then you should ask him yourself, because I do not know.” Loki huffs. “What your brutish friends do at night, or during the day for that matter, is none of my business.”

“Is that so? Then why is it that your clothes are covered in hay?”

Loki gives a startled laugh. The sound sounds shrill and false even to his own ears, like not so long ago when he had his mind set on ruling Midgard, half mad with fear of Thanos, but he can’t help it. Surely the big oaf cannot think— 

“Do not dare laugh at me,” Thor bellows. His face is set into a fierce scowl. “Answer me!” 

“Even you can’t be fool enough to think that an honored warrior like Tyr would touch the traitor willingly,” Loki says with a sneer.  

The thought alone is ludicrous. People shun him like he carries the plague. Or maybe simply because they all know what kind of monster he is. 

“And even if one would admit to desires of such depravity, you make sure that they would not even dare to approach me, with the way you always paw at me like a ruttish dog marking its territory.”

“Is that how you see my affections? Do they displease you this much?” Thor asks stiffly. 

His face slides into a blank mask except for a barely noticeable movement of his jaw where he is grinding his teeth. Loki has to grant him that, Thor finally has acquired some much needed control in the time Loki wandered between the realms. This mask of indifference is much more terrifying than the glowering expression it replaced. Like this, even Loki can’t read Thor.

Loki sighs. He suddenly feels tired and defeated, what little peace he found here earlier gone.        

“You know they do not, but they displease your family, your friends, your people. Do you not hear the susurrus of ergi when you kiss me at the high table? How they talk in whispers how the traitor spreads his legs like a common trollop to corrupt their golden prince?” Loki laughs bitterly at the memories, the last ones only mere hours old. “Do you really think they would tolerate me in their midst if it were not for you?”  

Thor’s posture does not change. His arms are still crossed, but the muscles in his forearms are flexing, like he’s longing to have Mjölnir in his hand. He truly is magnificent, Loki thinks, letting his eyes linger on Thor’s strong chest that he has come to know quite intimately since his brother brought him back to Asgard like a muzzled dog.

“No, I do not, and I apologize for missing something that causes you such great pain. I will see to it that it will never happen again.”

The sentimental fool, he cares too much and trusts so easily. One day his heroic foolishness will be his downfall and it will most likely come at Loki’s hands. Loki wants to mock him for it, cut him to the bone with words and half-truths, how he still trusts him after everything Loki did to him and his precious mortals. 

But the words don’t come. Instead Loki feels warmth curl in his chest, the sickening feeling of gratitude, of sentiment, and when Thor reaches to embrace him Loki steps away, unable to bear his own weakness. 

“And what are you going to do,” he taunts Thor. “Strike down the Allfather?”

“If I must.” Thor’s reply comes without pause or hesitation.

Loki closes his eyes and shudders at the absolute certainty of the words. He wants to scream at Thor, tell him to stop making him feel as if he matters. As if he is worthy.

After their arrival with the tesseract Thor spoke for Loki, refusing to take off the despicable device and let him speak for himself. He told Odin about Loki’s deeply felt remorse and sorrow for his deeds. Such wicked lies Loki never thought he would hear from his honorable brother’s lips, because Loki feels no such thing and Thor knows it just too well. But Odin did spare his life, purporting to show mercy when in truth his punishment for Loki was just as cruel as death. Loki’s most powerful magic was sealed, leaving him only with the most basic abilities until he proves himself worthy to wield them again.

Thanos’ touch still clouded his mind so shortly after his return— still lingers to this very day and makes him cry tears of terror in his sleep— but Odin’s punishment terrifies him in ways that none of the nightmares Thanos had threatened him with ever could. Losing his magic is like losing all his limbs, leaving him only a broken shell that crawls in the dirt where before it ran swift and powerful over the plains of Idavoll like Blóðughófi.

Thor’s confession of love was what kept him from descending even deeper into madness and despair. 

To finally have what he has craved for millennia is infinitely sweeter than all the delights and rewards Thanos had promised him. But the fear the inevitable loss of it strikes into his heart is infinitely more terrifying than even his punishment at Odin’s hands. 

Only the Norns could think of something this wicked as his fate, and when it will happen, when Thor will finally see Loki for the monster that he is and turn his back on him, it will be suitable punishment for all the misdeeds Loki has never come to regret. Thanos’ words may have poisoned him, but only because they fell on the already putrid soil of his darkened mind.

“You sentimental fool, do you think the Aesir would accept a kingslayer as their king?” Loki laughs cruelly. “Have you no ambition at all? Have you not learned anything since we rode to Jotunheim?” 

A look of hurt darkens Thor’s handsome face. Loki tells himself the sharp feeling in his chest is delight that there’s finally a chip in the armor of Thor’s arrogance. 

He steps away from Thor and walks to the other side of the stable, facing the lines of fragrant mow that line the wall. He can’t bear the sight of Thor, cannot stand the way it makes his heart thud with love and leaves him helpless and wanting. The one thing he craves the most makes him ache, and in retaliation it is only right that Thor suffers as much as Loki.

Of course Thor is right behind him, as always without regard for Loki’s need for privacy. It still surprises him when Thor’s hand curls around his biceps hard enough that there will be bruises later. He finds himself spun around roughly to face Thor, held firmly in place by Thor’s hands on his shoulders.

“Stop it,” Thor grates out. 

He looks furious, his eyes the same eerie electric blue as during battle. Loki should be rightfully scared, as it’s always a sign for violence to follow, but instead he finds that it excites him. It’s proof that Thor cares, that Loki is right under his skin, and that is all Loki has ever wanted.

“Do you think that almost breaking ties with father or giving up a life with Sif did not cost me? Do my efforts to be at your side mean so little that you have to mock me for them?” 

Thor is whispering, but for all the hurt in it, he may as well be shouting.

“You gave up a life with Sif?” Loki asks sharply, searching Thor’s face. There are a thousand possibilities the words could mean and most certainly none of them would pertain to Loki, but still his heart is hammering in his chest with the kind of sudden urgency that comes with hope and fear alike. 

“She left this morning. After I told her that I will not wed her, that I choose to have you at my side. Only to come here and find you rolling in the hay with Tyr. I will not have it, do you hear?” Thor spits the words in Loki’s face, his own face twisted in pain and anger. 

This time Loki knows that feeling in his chest is delight and sorrow at once. 

His heart quivers like a maiden’s. With Sif gone Thor is finally truly his, and yet he aches for his brother. Loki has always respected Sif, feeling a certain kinship because she too never accepted and fiercely fought against the role society intended for her. If it were not for their rivalry for Thor’s affections, he might have even considered her a friend. Loving Loki does cost Thor dearly indeed, because he not only lost a lover today but also his dearest friend.

Loki searches Thor’s face for signs of deceit, even if he knows that, unlike himself, Thor is incapable of it.  For once Loki’s clever words elude him and he does not dare hope that Skuld would spin a new thread of fate for him and allow for his most hidden desires to come true. That he could finally belong.

Thor, impatient as ever, seems to take his silence as defiance. He slides a hand up into Loki’s hair and pulls hard until Loki cannot help but hiss in pain. 

”You are mine, brother, do you understand? I am the only one to touch you.” Thor shakes him roughly, so much so that there will be bruises, but Loki only hears the words — Thor’s claim  and he feels himself harden at them. 

”Say it, Loki, say that you are mine!”

Loki wants to, needs to admit what Thor demands from him. But to speak it out loud would make it true and everything that Loki ever desired has been taken from him eventually. His fear would shame him if he were a different man, but twisting the truth to serve his needs is Loki’s very nature, and this time it is no different. 

Things that remain untold can not be used against him. But what Loki can’t say, maybe his body will tell.

“Make me,” he says, leaning close so he can whisper the words against Thor’s lips.

Thor goes completely still against him, but the hand in Loki’s hair trembles. For the second time tonight Loki admires Thor’s newly found restraint. But where he often wished for it in the past, tonight it’s the last thing Loki wants from his brother. 

“Please,” he whispers, tongue darting out to lick over Thor’s lips as if in supplication.

It’s enough.

”As you wish, brother,” Thor bites out. 

Loki hears the anger in his voice and he’s glad for it. Thor does not take well to being denied, and angry like this he’s less likely to see past Loki’s façade of defiance. If he were to see how weak Loki truly is, the yes, I am yours he longs to say — he would insist that Loki give in and say it out loud.

The night air is cool on his chest when Thor rips his tunic. One tug of his strong hands is enough to tear Asgard’s finest linen to tatters. It’s exactly what Loki craves, all of Thor’s single-minded attention focused on him. He quickly bends to remove his boots, but Thor is having none of it and roughly tumbles Loki onto one of the mows. It’s low enough for Loki to sit on, some of the hay removed earlier to feed the horses, but Thor makes him lie back with a heavy hand to his chest. 

The hay feels rough against Loki’s back, just like the callouses of Thor’s hands on his skin. Loki is glad for the distraction, lets himself enjoy the sensations on his body that slowly dull the voices in his head to a faint whisper.

Thor is looming over him, a thunderous expression on his face that makes him look wild, savage, but no less beautiful. He quickly removes Loki’s boots and breeches, leaving Loki bare to his scrutiny. 

The scene is achingly familiar to how Loki has felt since that day in Jotunheim. Himself naked and raw, unsure of his place while Thor wields all the power. Loki closes his eyes, afraid to watch Thor’s face and what he will see there if he is suddenly found wanting.

“Why must everything be a struggle with you,” Thor asks with an unhappy sigh. 

”Because you make it so,” Loki replies. 

He can’t tell Thor of his fears, doesn’t dare challenge fate like this. Not anymore. For Thor things are simple, black and white. Loki knows he means well, wants Loki to be again the brother he knew, like he was before, but he’ll never understand that for Loki now there are only different shades of grey and black.

Then Thor’s lips are on his, rough and insistent and Loki parts his lips eagerly. With most of his magic gone, Thor’s touch is the one thing that makes him feel alive, and suddenly Loki is starving. He moans, lets his need bleed into the small sound, willing Thor to kiss him harder, deeper. 

“Mine,” Thor growls into the kiss, licking deep into Loki’s mouth until Loki feels breathless and light-headed. 

Thor’s love isn’t gentle, never was. 

Loki welcomes it and wraps a hand in Thor’s thick golden hair— so beautiful and the only softness Loki associates with his brother, besides his too gentle heart.  It’s as much to guide as to keep Thor close when Thor’s breaks the kiss with a sharp bite to Loki’s bottom lip. For now Thor seems to be in a mood to follow, lavishing kisses over Loki’s shoulders and collar bone, down to where Loki wants him. 

Thor flicks a nipple with the tip of his tongue before he closes his lips around the erect nub and sucks strongly. Loki groans at the familiar feeling, heat and slick pressure. He’s so sensitive there (like a woman— ergi, a little voice whispers in the back of his head), and his eyes fly open at the first hint of teeth. 

His brother is watching him intently while he bestows such wicked delights on Loki’s body. Loki shudders at the heat that already pools in his belly, but he will not give in so easily.

“Is this how you bear touching me?” he scorns. “Suckling my tits like you have done to every trollop you have bedded? Do you think of her while you touch me like this?”

Thor’s eyes are calm when he regards Loki, thunder tempered into steel by a newly found chill that calls out to Loki’s frost.

“Do not accuse me of what you fear, brother,” Thor says, his voice even. “How could I ever forget whom I bed at night when your cock just begs to be touched, like this.” His hand closes around Loki’s cock, just holds him and the simple touch is enough to make Loki’s breath hitch, a blush of arousal color his cheeks. “It was you I thought of when I lay with her, the way your greedy arse milks my cock when her cunt was soft and wet around me.”

There it is again, that feeling of sentiment, strong enough to penetrate the haze of excitement Loki feels building at Thor’s lewd words. Only the sharp pain of Thor’s teeth sinking into the tender skin beneath his collar bone spares him the humiliation of giving in this early in their game. 

“Better not forget it then, brother,” Loki gasps, back arching and pushing his chest against Thor’s mouth. 

Thor sucks on that spot until Loki knows that there will be a vicious bruise tomorrow. Thor will touch it during the day, eyes gleaming with pride every time he brushes casually over Loki’s tunic and pressing down slightly but unerringly on that tender spot, and Loki— Loki will let him and lean into his touch. 

“And why is that, brother,” Thor murmurs, stroking the tips of his fingers over Loki’s fluttering pulse, just a small distance from the pain blooming on Loki’s chest. “Because I’m yours, just as you are mine?”

There’s no mockery in his words, only an absolute certainty that makes Loki bite his tongue until he tastes blood.

“Not yet then,” Thor says, standing and leaving Loki cold and exposed in the chilly air. “Prepare yourself.”

Loki pulls in a sharp breath and briefly considers arguing. He has done it countless times, breaching himself with slender fingers that were never quite enough, imagining it was his brother touching him. Now that he finally knows Thor’s touch, he craves the burn of his brother’s thick fingers inside of him, their knowing touch often enough to make him spill like a youngling thinking about a maiden’s bosom. 

“Hurry, brother, if you don’t want this to hurt,” Thor advises while he removes his cloak and tunic. “You said ‘make me’. I’m making you.”

There is no answer for that. 

What Loki meant as a challenge, Thor recognized as the plea it really is. Loki leans up on his elbows and drinks him in, wide chest and powerful arms and he wants. Giving in to Thor’s order will be for his own benefit as well, let him have what he craves that much faster.

He lies back again, splaying his legs a little wider, bringing his feet up until he can plant them against the bristly hay. It tickles against his soles just like his magic tickles his fingers, a pitifully small trickle surging through him that leaves him feeling empty and broken.

Loki tries to calm himself and concentrate on what is to come, but he can’t help the bitter laugh.

“I don’t think this use of my power was what the Allfather had in mind when he ordered me to prove myself worthy.”

He trails slick fingers into the crease of his arse and eases a finger inside of himself. There’s no pain, not after he’s been sharing Thor’s bed for months. Loki prepares himself quickly, spurred on by Thor’s gaze that lingers on the place where he breaches himself, and the sight of Thor removing his boots and breeches. He stands naked and proud while he watches Loki working himself open. Loki gasps softly when he touches his prostate, unable to stop his fingers from stroking, losing himself in the pleasure of his own touch.


An impatient touch to his wrist almost startles him and he removes his fingers. Thor makes him stand and holds him close while he spreads his cloak over the prickly hay. Loki’s cheeks burn hotter than they did at Thor’s coarse words earlier. The thoughtful gesture is meant for a lover, not a sibling.

“Lie back,” Thor orders hoarsely, and Loki obeys with as much grace as he can muster.

Thor’s eyes are almost black, blown wide with lust, and when his cock is at Loki’s entrance Loki barely has time to reach out and smooth what little oil remained on his fingers over its hardness. 

Then there’s just blunt pressure. Thor keeps his cock steady with a hand at the base and pushes inside with one long and relentless stroke. Loki cries out, filled too fast too much not enough, their coupling no different than how things have always been between them. He rests the tips of his fingers on the rim of his entrance, cheeks flushing with excitement at the feeling of his body yielding to his brother.

For a brief moment their fingers touch in the most intimate way possible when Thor fully seats himself inside.  Loki’s stomach trembles at the touch of Thor’s hands on his thighs, spreading him wide open and tilting his hips until Thor can slide in even deeper. 

“So tight,” Thor breathes, watching Loki closely from beneath half-lidded eyes. “So you were truthful about not letting Tyr have you.” 

Something hot flares bright inside Loki, something ugly. Here he is, letting himself be bared to his brother in the most intimate way, and still Thor doubts him. 

Loki slaps him, but he doesn’t have the leverage to inflict the harm he wants to. Instead he yanks the hair that curtains Thor’s face until Thor gives in with a grunt of pain, leaning on his forearms until their faces almost touch.

“Do not accuse me of what you fear, brother,” Loki hisses, throwing Thor’s words from earlier back at him. “It is not I who shared another’s bed. I came here only to sit with my son. Do not dare make me feel like I am the one in the wrong.” 

There’s a soft neighing from the other end of the stable, as if to affirm his words, and isn’t that Loki’s ultimate humiliation, begging his brother to take him in front of his child. He will beg, there’s no doubt with the way his body is already trembling with need with Thor thick and hot inside of him. Thor has no answer for him, but the flush on his face deepens with what Loki hopes is shame or at least regret. 

The first thrust of Thor’s cock drives all rational thought from Loki’s mind, finding his prostate unerringly with intimate knowledge. Loki keens at the burn of that full weight inside of him, filling him to the point of delicious pain. 

“So beautiful, brother,” Thor says. “Beautiful and mine.”

He fucks Loki hard and fast, thrusting into him roughly, his fingers leaving bruises that will begin to turn purple before the night is over. It only feels like seconds and Loki already is on the brink of release. A single touch is all he needs, but Thor denies him, threading his fingers through Loki’s and holding him immobile. 

“Brother, please…,” Loki gasps, already begging as he know he would. “I need… touch me, please.”

“Say it,” Thor grinds out. He’s sweating with exertion, beautiful with his faced flushed with lust. Loki wants him, so he leans up and kisses him, keeping himself from giving in and saying what they both need to hear.

Not yet. 

Loki wraps his legs around his brother’s hips, seeking friction and drawing Thor impossibly deeper into his body with his ankles crossed at the small of Thor’s back. Thor groans, straining against Loki’s hold as he spends himself inside Loki with a surprised moan. The sound is muffled against Loki’s shoulder, and Loki cries out as teeth sink into him, marking him again.

“Fuck me, damn you!” Loki demands breathlessly. 

Thor is still hard inside of him while his seed is slowly leaking out of Loki’s body with every small, involuntary movement of his hips. Few of the legends about his brother are true. Thor’s prowess is one of them.

“Your wish… ah… is my command,” Thor says, a wicked smile spreading over his handsome face. 

He does fuck Loki. If possible, Thor’s pace is even more punishing as before, and still he won’t let Loki touch himself. He sucks bruises into Loki’s skin, a trail of ownership that Loki won’t be able to hide. All Loki can do is shove back against Thor and gasp at the sensation of heat exploding in his belly. The slap of Thor’ balls against Loki’s arse mingles with the wet sound of his cock moving in his own spend, the lewd sounds of their fucking ringing loudly in the stable. 

Loki sobs out his need, a mindless string of please and brother and yes, right there. He’s beyond caring of who might walk by and hear him, his every thought focused on Thor and his own pleasure.

Thor takes pity on him, finally releases Loki’s hands and slides his arms under Loki’s knees. He bears down on him, folding Loki almost in half. 

This time each slide out of Loki’s body is agonizingly slow, leaving Loki aching and empty but for the burning stretch of his entrance over the wide and slick head of Thor’s cock. Every time Thor keeps him there for seconds that feel like hours, only to plunge inside hard, jostling Loki’s body on the soft worn fur of the cloak. Loki shudders at how good it feels, already anticipating the deep ache he will feel for days. His newly free hands shoot up in a feeble attempt to steady himself and he grips hard at Thor’s biceps, his nails no doubt leaving deep crescent-shaped gouges in the thick muscle.

Loki’s body is strung tight like a bow, his release so close he can taste it. His chest clenches at the sight of his brother above him, every feeling laid bare on that familiar, too honest face. Love. Lust and desire. For Loki. There’s no escape for Loki, no tricking fate. Not with Thor’s body weighing him down, filling him, with his seed trickling from Loki’s body onto his cloak beneath them. The words are choking Loki, clawing at his throat to be spilled.

“Loki, brother…” Thor moans, spilling himself once again deep inside of Loki.  “Please…” 

Loki’s breath catches as he comes with a shudder, body clenching tight around Thor’s hardness inside him. Thor’s hand is firm on his cock, stroking him through the frenzy of pleasure that washes through his body until he finally calms again. 

“I’m yours,” he whispers, stroking back the tangled hair that curtains Thor’s face, tucking the sweaty strands behind an ear. The smile that lights Thor’s face isn’t proud and victorious as it once would have been. It’s small and happy, private, something precious that belongs to Loki now. As long as Skuld will let him have it.

Thor slips from his body, his cock soft now. He brings a hand to Loki’s face and strokes his cheek, thumbing away the silent tears that Loki can’t hold back. Loki closes his eyes, and refuses to take the feeling of loss that rushes over him at Thor’s absence from his body as a portent of things to come.

“Does admitting that hurt you that much?” Thor asks softly.

“Yes.” There’s nothing more to say, nothing that would make Thor understand Loki’s fears.

Another bite makes Loki’s eyes snap open with surprise. It’s deep and painful, this time on the tender spot of his ribs, right under his arm. The physical pain is sharp enough to distract him from the hurt in his heart, at least for a moment. Maybe Thor does understand.

Loki thinks that maybe he can finally let go now that he said it out loud. There’s nothing for him to do than await what fate brings. He can let himself have this, now that they’re on the same side, because Thor’s side is the only one that is left for Loki.

Thor pets him, strokes his skin softly, undemanding. He looks… not happy, but content, a sadness lingering in his eyes that Loki knows is for him.

Loki sits up, and Thor steps back readily enough, leaning against the wooden post next to them. Loki lets his cramped legs dangle for a moment before he gets to his feet.

“Why can’t you let yourself have this, be happy?” Thor asks.

“I will. I’ll try,” Loki answers. He may be the father of lies, but he can be truthful about this.

Even sweaty and covered in the mingled bodily fluids, Thor looks glorious, and Loki laughs softly at the surge of want he feels again. He can start trying right now, it seems.

Loki is aching everywhere, but he still slides to his knees in front of Thor. 

“Loki?” Thor asks, sounding slightly stunned. It’s a small comfort that Thor, while he has gathered some wits lately, at times is still a doltish oaf.

“Be still, brother,” Loki says. “I’m trying.”

Even soft Thor’s thick cock is a heavy weight in his hand. Loki slides his lips over the soiled length of it, lapping at their mingled tastes. 

“Loki, don’t tease,” Thor groans. His hands move to fist in Loki’s hair, but this time it’s Loki who threads their fingers together. 

“Fuck me,” he says, biting his own claim into Thor’s hip. “Have me again, now that I’m yours.”

“I’ll have you, brother,” Thor says, helping Loki up with a firm grip on his upper arm and pushing him to lean back against the thick wooden beam behind them. “I will have what’s mine.” His voice is hoarse with arousal, but his eyes are fierce and clear, and there’s no doubt that he means more than just Loki’s body.

Loki almost loses his balance when Thor hooks one of Loki’s legs over his elbow, but Thor’s hand on his arse keeps him steady and spread. Like this, Thor slides into him easily. Loki’s body is still loose, pliant and slick, but Thor stills fills him until he’s just shy of too full. 

Thor fucks him hard and fast, hitting the needy spot inside of Loki that makes him shake and cry out for more. Loki is aching and filthy, his entrance sore and his brother’s seed slowly trickling down his thighs, and Loki wouldn’t have it any other way.

He kisses Thor, keeping him close with a hand in his hair, deep and wet strokes of his tongue against Thor’s that leave them both breathless. Loki gasps his demands of deeper and more in Thor’s mouth, and shatters apart when Thor gives him what he’s asking for. He comes slowly, cock pulsing weak streaks of seed against Thor’s stomach, body rigid with pleasure, his clenching inner muscles enough to make Thor follow with a quiet gasp.


Their walk to Thor’s chamber is quiet, thanks to the early hour, and Loki is grateful for the small mercy. He wears nothing but Thor’s cloak and his own boots, tunic and breeches ruined by Thor’s impatient hands. And while his modesty is protected by the too large cloak and the way Thor keeps him tucked tightly against his side, Loki is acutely aware how he looks under the cloak, marked and bruised, Thor’s seed slowly running down his thighs. 

There’s a single servant, a red-cheeked young man who seems to be on his way to the kitchens. He sneers at Loki’s attire, but Loki meets his eyes cooly, until he looks away with a mumbled apology. Loki may not be a prince of Asgard anymore, at least not by title, but he’s the future king’s consort. It’s time to make people treat him as such.

In the chambers they share Thor strips quickly and slides between the sheets.

“Come, Loki,” he says quietly, folding back the thick blanket of fur that covers the bed for Loki.

Loki looks longingly at the door to the bath chamber, but he’s too tired and weary to do more than sleep. 

Thor arranges them until he can curve his large body around Loki and his chest is warm and solid against Loki’s back. Sleep won’t come to Loki. He thinks about how tightly he bound their fates together today. He fought Thor for so long, out of jealousy and hurt pride, that he forgot that love was the reason behind all of it. And now that he finally has it, he’s powerless to keep that love safe.

“Never doubt that I love you,” Loki whispers, thinking back to a day that seems centuries past, at the carefree and better man he was back then.

“You do not have to be a good man for a good man to love you,” Thor murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against his neck. 

Loki has no answer for that, so he simply squeezes Thor’s hand.

Thor squeezes back. It’s enough.



Blóðughófi: one of the great steeds of the Aesir, its name means bloody-hoofed.
Skuld: One of three Norns, goddesses of fate. She waves the threads of the future.