Chapter Text
Loki's face is a blank, when Thor lets go of him. “What have you proven?” His tongue comes out, and barely touches his lips. – Lips swollen, Thor knows, from his own kisses. “Do you think me less a monster now...” He throws a quick glance at Thor. “...Or more a member of your own family?”
Thinking, proving: It's all a confusion. Why does Loki have to talk? Why does there always have to be an explanation? At the back of Thor's mind, an idea trembles: If he and Loki aren't brothers, is there not something else they can be? Is this the way, perhaps, to the connection they both seek? ...For his brother seeks it too, of that, he is very sure. He knows there is something between them, something strong and inescapable. The knowledge is there in the bitterness of his voice when he speaks; it flares in the angry light of his green eyes.
“I think you want this.”
Loki is already recovering from his self-imposed injuries. Even as Thor watches, the Odinforce breathes new energy into him, flares color into his pale cheeks. He looks at his brother, and his eyes are ironic. “I want nothing more than to be free from you, Thunderer, from you and all your accursed family. How long will it take you to figure that out?”
“No.” Now that he understands, Thor's mood lifts. “You are ever so, brother. Your first response to everything is to be negative. “Come...” He touches his cheek. “We are done with talking. Let me hold you.”
Loki's green eyes turn evil. “I am not your satellite any more.” He pulls away on the bed, but not much, not as if he fully means it. “Touch me and I will bring the entire palace on you in an instant.”
It is a vain threat; they both know it. Loki would have made a different one, if he meant it truly. Thor laughs. “You are a prisoner,” he says. “Who will come?”
He pulls Loki close. His hair is soft to the touch, his skin is tender... A woman's skin. Gently, Thor strokes him, touches him all over. The softness of him is a delight. It reminds Thor of holding his brother close in bed at night, when they were small. More than that though, it is a woman's softness he thinks about, of the women Fandral has introduced him to when they have gone wenching together.
He doesn't want it to be like that with Loki, though. This is not some nameless body, encountered in a dark bedroom, upstairs from the inn where he has been drinking. This is someone special, as if he had been able to bed Jane Foster while he was in Midgard, before the Bifrost was destroyed. Thoughtfully, Thor touches the hem of his brother's garment.
His brother's shirt and trousers are from his own wardrobe. The drab uniform of a prisoner at least, is an indignity that has been spared this son of Odin. The clothing is loose-fitting; it is such as a warrior wears underneath his armor in combat. Well does Thor know, from his own experience, how easily such garments can be removed.
“May I?” Loki makes no protest, and so Thor slides the shirt upward. First his brother's arms, then his head... He removes it gently, taking care not to cause pain.
Loki has always been thin, but now he is horribly thin. Thor could count his ribs, just looking at him. It saddens him, seeing his brother like this, but he knows that soon, if he ceases his self-destruction, the Odinforce will have restored him.
“Brother, you are stupid.” Loki's voice. His old, familiar criticisms. “Do you think I want this?”
Loki doesn't know what he wants, Thor thinks. He is swallowed in his own poisoned imaginings, as he has been... – For how long? -- ...Since long before he let go of Gugnir. He thought he wanted the throne. Now he thinks he would hide himself in oblivion. What will be next? “I think you want to be cared for,” he tells him. “Let me care for you, Loki.”
Tenderly, he presses kisses, all over his brother's bare skin. -- E'en with his lips, he can feel the thinness of him. – Only when he has been well-kissed, all over, doth Thor remove his trousers. Loki makes no complaint. Indeed, he leans into his brother's touch, and gives a soft sigh.
“This is what you want isn't it,” Thor murmurs as the trousers come away, and he drops them to the floor by the bed. “You want it, as I do.” His brother's demur is half-hearted.
Thor is very hard now. He can feel his manhood strain against his own trousers, irritated by the feel of the fabric. It is a good feeling, one that speaks of anticipation. He remembers it from the nights when he was wenching: He'd leave the trousers on sometimes, – Once, until the trull he was with asked what he was about. – just to prolong the feeling. Not this time though. This time he has his brother to think of.
“Get your knees up.” A woman's entrance is easily positioned, not so that of a man. Thor has heard how this is done, though. Fandral has told of his adventures with men as well as with women, and in plentiful detail.” Loki, however, is young. Mayhaps he is not aware what his brother is about. Thor pushes his legs upward, angling them until he can view the brown pucker of his brother's entrance. He holds his legs long enough for Loki to get the idea. “Now keep them there.”
His own hands, go to his brother's hips. “Thor, stay!” Loki's soft demur. “A man is not like a woman.”
Oh yes, he'd almost forgotten: Fandrall spoke of this as well. He laughs. “You think me very innocent, don't you, brother?” Thor lets go of Loki for a moment. Bringing his hands up, he spits, as Fandral has explained one should do. He rubs the moisture on himself, his manhood straining into this touch as well.
“You excite me.” He takes hold of Loki again. “I fear I will not last, unless we hurry.”
Soft skin, under his callused fingers... Loki is soft, so very soft.
“Stay...” Dimly through his own excitement, Thor hears his brother's voice. “I think you must prepare... – Wet me, brother, lest you...”
It is more hindrance than he wanted, but this is Loki. Thor fears that he may hurt his brother unless he takes care. Again he raises his hands. He hacks, tries to spit, but nothing comes. In truth, he is not altogether sorry; the thought of putting his finger into that hole, knowing what comes out of it in the privy, is not a pleasant one.
“I am sorry, I cannot, brother.” He seizes his hips again. “And we must act quickly now, for I can feel the moisture drying.” He looks down, finds where he must enter. Then he thrusts hard and fast, as he has done with the doxies at The White Hart.
His brother's body does not open for him as theirs do though. Thor feels tightness, dryness... It is as much as he can do to enter even a little way.
“Brother,” Loki moans, “oh my brother, do not...”
It will not be like this forever. Once he is in, the sensation will change, and for both of them, “Let me.” Thor thrusts again. – Already he can feel Loki open for him, he is very sure of it. – “We will both enjoy this.”
Another thrust, and then a third... It takes five, ere he can call himself truly inside, and feel his movements ease, as his brother's body grows readier. Thor sighs, a noise of pleasure and relief. He would have this be good for both of them.
As for his own body though, there can be no question. Excitement thrums; it is all he can do not to give way entirely, just at the feel of it. Thor thrusts. His brother arches his back. Still Loki moans, but the noises are those of pleasure now, he is very sure of it.
Once more, and again. His brother's own hardness is pressed against Thor's belly. He can feel a growing moisture there. Oh, if they should both reach release at the same time! This last joy is denied him though, as Thor feels his body near, then cross the edge. He shoots his load... He can feel it going up, up, deep inside Loki's body, hard, and so much it must completely fill him. He pulls back, and sees Loki himself, still unsatisfied.
“Touch yourself,” he says. Then, when still Loki waits, he takes hold of his hands with his own, and puts them where he wants them.
“I... No.” Loki throws him a look.
He wants him to do it, Thor thinks. Well of surety, the pleasure his brother has given, deserveth some recompense. Thor moves Loki's hands so his own can get better purchase. He wraps one hand around the shaft of his brother's manhood, uses the other to find the sensitive place just below the tip, that he used to find so often on himself, when he was but a boy. A few teasing tickles, a coaxing stroke or two... It is a matter of moments, and Loki reaches his own release. His juice spurts upward, spattering Thor's hands, as well as his own belly.
“You are mine, brother.”
“No.” Loki scarce whispers the denial, belied by the tears in his eyes.
“Yes,” Thor tells him. He takes time before he leaves, to properly clean Loki, and to make sure he is tucked carefully back in bed. Then he returns to his mother's chambers, to tell Frigga of his brother's recovery.