Chapter 5
“Your coming-of-age ceremony is in a month, is it not?”
Loki’s head jerked at the question, and he looked up from the plate of food he had been half-heartedly picking at. He flushed as he met Thor’s gaze, but his brother said nothing.
“Yes, sire,” Loki said, soft.
“I will see to the preparations,” Thor said, with finality. Then, he leaned back against his chair.
Loki had since learned what that movement meant. He abandoned his food to stand up, a shaking hand undoing his high collar as he went. Underneath, wrapped around his delicate neck, was a thin black collar. Easy enough to hide under his clothes, which was why his brother insisted that Loki wear it at all times.
He shed the rest of his clothes as he walked—modesty was not welcomed, not in Thor’s chambers, where every evening meal eventually led to this: Loki’s cries going unheeded as Thor sat him on his cock, fucking him into pliancy until Loki went still as a doll, nothing but hitched sobs to denote he was conscious.
It should have been a relief that Thor preferred to fuck Loki’s ass—his tight, wet hole, Thor would grunt into his ear—but instead it made his cunt ache and grow wet, to his own horror. It was humiliation enough to suffer such violation at the hands of the one person Loki loved. It was worse that his body reacted, against his own wishes—that his nipples peaked and stiffened as Thor’s fingers pinched at them, that even as his ass was filled and stretched to the edge of pleasure and pain, his cock twitched and dripped helplessly.
And worse still was the way Thor would bring him to orgasm relentlessly, fondling the lips of Loki’s cunt and grinding his fat cock into Loki’s ass until Loki was spasming in his hold, coming even as he begged for Thor to stop.
Tonight, though, Thor stopped before Loki could tip over the edge, and Loki sat, shaking and split open on his cock, legs held apart by Thor’s rough hands, and bit his lip savagely to keep from begging. Thor pulled out, slow and horrible, and Loki could not help the whine that escaped his lips.
“Hush,” Thor murmured, setting Loki on his feet, where Loki struggled to stay standing.
Thor then took hold of his cock, covering Loki’s entire back with his chest, making Loki gasp and go up on his toes, and a burst of seidr tingled from Thor’s grasp. That was not a surprise in itself—Thor often used seidr to make Loki pliant—but it filled him with dread all the same.
Then Thor smacked his ass and sent him on his way.
—
Thor did not recall Loki to his chambers for the next few weeks. The days passed slowly and painfully as Loki realized what Thor’s seidr had done—it kept him from orgasm. The last few months with Thor had cultivated something in him—his body would grow hot and needy in the evenings, anticipating his brother’s touch, and when it failed to come, Loki was left wanting, crossing his legs miserably and weeping tears of frustration into his pillow.
The day of Loki’s coming-of-age ceremony started early. Servants were in his chambers before dawn, pulling him out of bed, bathing him, preparing him—for Thor. The thought filled him with equal parts dread and anticipation, and that now-familiar companion of terrible, helpless, aching arousal.
He left his chambers dressed only in the barest of clothes: delicate lines of gold and jewels, make-up brushed against his cheeks and, embarrassingly, his hard cock, perfume dabbed between his inner thighs. The finishing touch was a golden leash clipped onto his collar, left to hang down his chest.
Loki was no fool—he knew what Thor had planned for him. He also knew there was no way to escape it. So he walked, tinkling and shimmering, all the way to the throne room.
The doors opened. The crowd was small, to his great relief, just a select number of Thor’s courtiers and councillors. And any part of Loki that longed to fight against this withered away as soon as he saw his brother, sprawled on the throne, leaning just the way he did when he waited for Loki to approach him after their meal.
Loki’s mouth went dry as his heart sped up, and he felt his whole body throb in desperate arousal. His feet slipped on the golden floors, and he fought the urge to break into a run. He could feel slick dripping down his thighs from his cunt, but he kept his eyes up, locked on the figure of his brother.
Finally, Loki reached Thor, his whole body thrumming such that he could barely coordinate himself to sit upon Thor’s lap as his brother gestured for him to do.
The rest of it went quickly, more quickly than Loki had expected: he buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, and Thor lifted him up, and then down, and his cock was nudging into Loki’s cunt, deeper and deeper until Loki was sobbing and whimpering. The only other sound in the throne room was the filthy wet noise of his cunt being fucked.
And then it was done. Or so Loki thought—he had assumed Thor would fuck him, claim him for everyone to see, and then Loki would be allowed, finally, to climax. But that was not the case. Thor kept Loki on his cock, running his hands along Loki’s shaking back and stroking his hair, for hours and hours.
At the start, he had rocked back and forth as much as he could, attempting to fuck himself if Thor would not, but Thor had easily put an end to that by delivering a smack to Loki’s ass, the sound of it ringing throughout the hall.
The morning passed with inexorable slowness. Loki set his teeth to the rough leather of Thor’s shoulder-piece to keep from crying out and disturbing the proceedings. His cunt was sore, leaking incessantly, and he almost felt bad for ruining Thor’s clothes.
Finally, when Loki was so dizzy with arousal he could barely think, Thor picked him up with one hand under his ass and bounced him upon his cock a few times—once, twice, and Loki broke out into fresh sobs, whining pleasepleaseplease under his breath.
“Brother,” Thor said, a rumble of thunder. The first word he had spoken to Loki in a month. Loki could have wept. Instead, his body spasmed into orgasm as Thor released his seidr's hold on Loki’s body. Loki cried out as his cunt clamped around Thor’s cock, and he rode out his climax mindlessly, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body was effused with a pleasure so deep it was almost painful.
Thor said nothing else; there was no need. But Loki was struck, suddenly, with a fear that twisted its way down to his bones. He was Thor’s now—not only Thor’s brother, but his whore. And everyone knew it. Whatever name Loki would have made for himself was left to the wind, and if Thor tired of him—if Thor tired of him—
“Hush,” Thor said, breaking through Loki’s thoughts. “You are mine,” he said.
“Yes, sire,” Loki choked out. He closed his eyes, fucked himself deeper onto his brother’s—his king’s—cock, and let his mind fall silent.