Chapter 9
1.
Asgard is thriving. There is peace in their little fishing village. The Aesir, none of them fishermen by trade, have adapted well to this new way of life. All year round, Migardian tourists come to learn about their culture, which is preserved by the Council for all future generations. Their fields are fertile, their seas abound with life. Once so close to extinction, now their people prosper.
It’s all damnably idyllic, and it grates on Loki’s bones.
He’s restless, and it annoys him, even if it’s in his nature to be restless. Even making love with Thor has almost become—Norns forbid —mundane. This is not to say Loki doesn’t enjoy it, still. Only a fish that has lived its whole life in the dark, senseless, could fail to enjoy Thor’s efforts at giving pleasure.
But the fact of the matter is that Loki is bored, and when he’s bored, all the nasty, whispering thoughts he keeps at bay—the ones about everything and everyone, but mostly himself—they come out to play.
Thus:
“You want me to...mock you?” Thor’s eyebrows are knotted together like two inchworms, his forehead creasing with the effort of understanding. Loki wants to lean close and kiss that crease, but he has to stay strong. Can’t get distracted right now.
“Degrade me,” Loki says. His hands are clasped in front of him on their dining table, a beautiful thing of Vanir hardwood that Thor carved himself. Thor spends his days carving wood and learning how Midgardian electricity works. Loki has other ideas of how to pass time.
“Degrade you,” Thor repeats, taking it in. Loki is relieved that he only seems confused, not dismissive. Not repulsed.
“What would...what would you have me say, exactly?”
Loki licks his lips. “You can say anything that you think will humiliate me. That I’m a whore. A cock-craving creature. A filthy slut.”
“A filthy slut,” Thor repeats, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.
The way he says it is anything but sexy, but a tingle makes its way down Loki’s spine anyway. Just a small one, though, he’s not that desperate. Yet.
“Yes,” Loki says, nodding. “You can say...you can say that I’m disgusting for wanting my own brother.”
“But I don’t think it’s disgusting,” Thor says, and those expressive eyebrows furrow together again. Caterpillars, Loki reconsiders, rather than inchworms.
“I know,” Loki says soothingly. “Of course I know. But that’s the point. It’s about...it’s about having you say those things, and knowing that you don’t really mean them. Or that those things might have truth in them, but you love me anyway.”
“I see,” Thor says. “It’s like a fantasy, then. Like play-acting.”
“Precisely,” Loki says.
“But even play-acting can hurt,” Thor says carefully. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know,” Loki says again. “You won’t. I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much. I know my limits.”
“I don’t think you do all of the time,” Thor says with a sigh. “But. If this is what you want, brother, then I will do my best to oblige.”
“Great,” Loki says, smiling. “Let’s do it.”
“What, now?” Thor says, with something close to alarm.
“No time like the present,” Loki says, getting up. “Now kiss me.”
2.
Loki has at least been able to work Thor up to spanking him. That was a difficult conversation to have as well, but Thor now delivers beautifully on it.
“You...filthy slut,” Thor tries, slapping Loki’s ass with each word.
Loki moans and then has to muffle a giggle, his legs kicking with the pleasure-pain of Thor’s strikes, but his heart bursting with mirth at Thor’s attempts at dirty talk.
“Harder, please,” Loki asks, then gasps as Thor spanks him again, silently this time.
“If you don’t—ah!—if you don’t call me names, I’ll do it myself,” Loki says, then cries out as Thor’s next strike jostles him hard across Thor’s lap.
“Quiet,” Thor says, and there’s that edge to his voice that makes Loki’s toes curl. He wiggles his ass, raising it into the air at the same time that he rubs his chest on the rough material of Thor’s jeans. Loki bought him these jeans—he likes the way they feel on his hard nipples.
“Call me names,” Loki hisses, and Thor spanks him so hard that he bellows.
“I’m a filthy, needy whore,” Loki pants. “I’m such a slut that I ask my own brother to bend me over his lap—ah! ”
“I need my greedy hole filled,” Loki whines, needling. He can feel Thor’s tension in the strength of his blows. Loki writhes in Thor’s lap, and feels—oh. Oh.
“You’re hard,” Loki says gleefully. “Are you thinking of your wanton slut of a brother?”
“I said quiet,” Thor says, and grabs Loki by the hair.
“Ohhh,” Loki sighs. “Oh, yes, more, brother.”
Thor holds Loki’s head aloft, stretching his neck upwards while he undoes his pants with one hand.
The burn of it is exquisite, and Loki almost whines when Thor’s cock is revealed.
“Suck,” Thor says, shoving Loki’s face downwards. “I know a slut like you needs it.”
Loki moans in appreciation, almost wanting to give Thor a thumbs-up for that one.
After a beat, Thor puts his hand on Loki’s hair, and asks, “Sorry, was that—?”
Well, it’s a start.
3.
“You filthy slut.”
Thor punctuates the obscene words with the obscene slap of his hips against Loki’s ass.
Loki bites the pillow he’s got a death-grip on, moaning and drooling into it.
“If you spread your legs for your brother, what else would you spread them for? You wanton whore.”
“Yessss,” Loki hisses, eyelids fluttering. “God, yes, I’m a whore, I’m filthy, I’m useless for anything but cock—”
“Spread your legs wider,” Thor growls, snapping his hips and driving his cock deep into his brother.
Loki’s eyes roll backwards into his head as he works his cock frantically against the sheets.
Yes, yes yes yes. Fuck. Yes.
Much, much better.
4.
“You’ll fuck anything with a cock, won’t you? You filthy slut.”
Loki keens in his throat, helpless to do anything but let Thor’s words wash over him. The plug in his ass keeps him full while his mouth pleasures Thor. He suckles hungrily, using one hand to stroke what he can’t take inside—lying flat on his belly isn’t the best angle for this.
“Just a hole for me to fuck,” Thor continues, one hand gripping Loki’s hair tight, the other wrapped around the nape of his neck.
“Mmhm,” Loki agrees.
“I might not even fuck your hole. Might just keep you plugged up like that.”
Loki nods frantically, sucking the head of Thor’s cock.
“Maybe you don’t deserve it. Maybe you don’t deserve anything—filthy creature like you.”
Loki groans, his breath catching at Thor’s words.
Thor pulls him off his cock and Loki rasps in greedy breaths, shaking with it.
“Say it,” Thor says.
Loki blinks, too fucked out to think properly.
“Say it,” Thor says again, hand tightening in his hair.
“I—I don’t—I don’t deserve it,” Loki says, flinching. Oh Norns. Oh fuck. His cock twitches and he clenches hard around the plug inside him.
“What don’t you deserve?”
“Don’t deserve your—your cock,” Loki says, his breath hitching. “Don’t deserve you, I’m just—just a hole, I don’t deserve you, don’t deserve your love—” He’s babbling now, everything he says winding him higher and higher, so lost in it that he doesn’t notice that Thor has let his hair go until his brother blurts out—
“Stop!”
Loki stops. He rubs at his face, where tears have somehow started to stream down his cheeks.
“Thor?” he asks, his voice hoarse. Gods, he’s so hard that all he would need to do is get a hand around himself—but Thor is staring at him with something akin to horror.
“Stop,” Thor says again, and then covers his face with both hands.
Oh no.
“Brother,” Loki murmurs, sitting up and wincing at the tug of the plug inside his hole. Fuck, he’s too full. He wipes his mouth before leaning in close and kissing Thor’s forehead, and his brother’s arms automatically go around him.
“Sorry,” Thor whispers. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it. Listening to you say those things—”
“It’s okay,” Loki says. “But I really need to get this plug out of me if we want to have a proper conversation about this.”
“Okay,” Thor says, his voice sounding wet. Loki kisses his forehead again, then his slack mouth, before slipping out of Thor’s embrace and quickly making his way to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, he cleans himself up and splashes some water on his face, then scrubs it dry with a soft towel. Then he stares at himself in the mirror and tries not to feel like he’s fucked everything up. It doesn’t quite work, but then again, it never does.
When he goes back into the bedroom, Thor is sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped. He looks like the world’s most miserable mountain.
Loki pads over and unceremoniously pushes himself into Thor’s arms, wiggling until he’s seated in his brother’s lap. Doing his best to reassure Thor that his touch is still wanted—no, required. Loki only has a desire for one throne these days, and that is the seat of Thor’s thighs. He lays his head on Thor’s shoulder and nuzzles.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
“It’s no fault of yours,” Thor sighs. It’s a shaky one, and Loki’s heart aches to know how easily he can lead Thor to destruction by making him hurt him. He’s played with Thor’s heart too many times in the past, has tried to find various ways to hurt him. When all he had to do was this.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Thor says.
“You didn’t,” Loki said. “Not in any way that I didn’t want. I promise, Thor.”
“You were crying, brother,” Thor says, his eyes squeezed shut. “You flinched, and I didn’t stop, and you—I don’t ever want you to think that you don’t—that you don’t deserve—”
“I know you love me,” Loki says quickly.
“Do you know you deserve it?” Thor asks.
“Most days,” Loki says. He swallows at the hurt that blooms across Thor’s face when he admits it. Inchworms, caterpillars, that furrowed crease in Thor’s brow that Loki now leans up to kiss. It’s the same for him as it is for Thor: hurting his brother hurts Loki in turn. It’s inevitable, tangled as they are in each other now.
“But most days is the best I can get,” Loki continues. “Thor, you must understand...I am...I’m trying, truly I am.”
“Does it help?” Thor asks, muffled in Loki’s shoulder. “When I say those things...when I have you say those things...how does it not hurt?”
“It’s the good kind of hurt,” Loki says. “Like sparring until your bones are aching, or the taste of your lightning.”
“I wish I could understand better,” Thor says. “I wish I could untangle the weave of your mind and see it laid out before me.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” Loki jokes. Weak though it is, it makes Thor smile.
“There we are,” Loki says, cradling Thor’s face in his. “Now give us a kiss.”
Thor obliges, and Loki sighs into his mouth, licking at Thor’s lips and tongue.
“You really are a wanton thing,” Thor teases, rubbing their noses together.
“You make me so,” Loki says. “It’s only for you, brother.”
“I will keep trying,” Thor says. “I want to make you happy.”
Loki’s breath catches.
“You don’t have to,” he tries.
“I know how much it pleases you,” Thor says. “And I am not entirely opposed to it.”
“Neither is your cock,” Loki teases, and Thor huffs out a laugh.
“But perhaps there are other ways this can be pleasurable for both of us.”
“Oh?” Loki asks. “What do you have in mind?"
5.
“My filthy slut.”
Loki moans, panting loudly as he rides Thor’s cock.
“You’ll do anything for your brother’s cock, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Loki nods, “yes, yes yes.”
“I should have you crawl on the floor, lick my boots. You’d love that won’t you? Anything for a taste of my cock?”
“Anything,” Loki says, nodding frantically. He grinds his hips down on Thor’s cock, fingers clenching where they rest on Thor’s chest. “Ffffuck.”
“Enough of that,” Thor says, slapping Loki’s ass and making him jolt.
“Nnngh?” Loki asks, whining as Thor pulls his hole off his cock with a sloppy, wet sound.
“On your hands and knees, slut,” Thor says, “and suck my cock. That’ll keep you quiet.”
Loki scrambles to get into position, swallowing down Thor’s length as soon as he’s near enough. His cock hangs near Thor’s face, and Thor licks up the line from the head of his cock to the rim of his ass, making Loki drool around him.
He hums in pleasure as Thor screws two fingers into his ass, pumping, then wraps a hand around his cock.
“Good slut,” Thor croons, and Loki’s entire body melts.
Yes, fuck, yes.
Perfect.