Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2176788.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies), Thor_(Comics), Loki:_Agent_of_Asgard
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor
  Character:
      Loki, Thor
  Additional Tags:
      Rimming, Anal_Sex, Sibling_Incest, High_Heels, Fingerfucking
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-19 Updated: 2016-05-01 Chapters: 4/? Words: 7637
****** 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge: Thor/Loki ******
by ohfreckle
Summary
     Fills for chasingriver's_porn_challenge. All fills will be stand-
     alone and not related to each other, and Thor/Loki (MCU, Journey into
     Mystery, Agent of Asgard and/or Norse mythology). Tread carefully,
     there will be nothing but filthy porn here, but what else is new.
***** Masterlist *****
Fill 1: Vital (rimming) 
Thor/Loki; Agent of Asgard; bottom!Thor
Fill 2: Malachite (out-of-character clothing)
Thor/Loki, post TDW; high heels, mention of lingerie
Fill 3: just be a queen (creative sexual positions)
Thor/Loki, skating AU
***** Vital (Rimming) *****
Chapter Summary
     Sometimes Loki sneaks into Thor's room in the Avengers Tower.
Chapter Notes
     Written for ergiofasgard as part of Thor Swap. Also posted on my
     tumblr.
“I do not think that’s necessary.” Thor says.
“Shut up, Thor!”
Loki fits his hands over Thor’s, admiring their differences and how well they
fit together, despite or maybe even because of them. Where Loki’s hands are
pale and delicate, Thor’s hands are tanned from long sparring sessions in the
sun and so much larger. He could easily break free, but his fingers curl around
the edge of the headboard trustingly, with only a slight squeeze from Loki.
Satisfied, Loki lets go and kneels on the bed, settling between Thor’s legs
which slide open to make room for him without asking.
“Norns, you’re gorgeous on your knees for me,” Loki murmurs, taking in the
picture in front of him. He smoothes his hands over the wide expanse of Thor’s
back and shoulders, mapping the hills and valleys of golden skin and thick
muscles in slow circles until Thor arches with a low moan. Like this, with his
back curved and his ass raised high, he reminds Loki of a big cat: the very
image of debauchery, purring but ready to pounce any moment.
Want throbs in Loki’s belly, an urgent need to feel all that strength against
him, and who’s here to stop him. He stretches along Thor’s back, skin against
skin, lapping at the sweat that’s pooling in the dip between Thor’s shoulders
and biting lightly just to feel Thor shudder.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, brother. I might fall asleep before you get on with
it,” Thor huffs around a breathless laugh.
“Cheeky.” Loki slides a hand in Thor’s hair and pulls, winding him into a wet
and messy kiss, licking into him deep and hard until Thor breaks the kiss with
a groan, panting heavily.
“Still afraid you might get bored?” Loki asks, brushing his lips against the
stubble on Thor’s chin. He kisses along Thor’s jaw, nipping sharply at the
tightly stretched tendons of his neck, watches Thor’s lashes flutter against
his cheeks when he slides his free hand over Thor’s side and cups his breast.
“Aye,” Thor says. He frees himself with a shake of his head and stretches,
putting his weight against the headboard in an effortless move, even with Loki
still draped all over him. Like this Loki can’t see his face, but he can feel
him shaking with silent laughter.
“I don’t believe you,” Loki says, viciously twisting a nipple. Thor bellows in
surprise, a sound so full of unrestrained enjoyment it sends a jolt of raw
pleasure through Loki, right into his balls.
“You’re hard and wet,” Loki says. “I can smell it dripping from you.”
He leans hard into Thor at the same moment Thor pushes back against him, and
his cock slips between Thor’s cheeks just like that. They both groan,
breathless with how good it is, so fucking good. Loki rolls his hips, fucks the
crease of Thor’s ass because how can he not move when Thor is pushing back at
him with greedy, belly-deep grunts. He smears his leaking cock over Thor’s
hole, so eager to be inside his big brother he’s shaking with it.
“Brother, get in me,” Thor growls. He sounds drunk with lust, the need to fuck.
Clenches his cheeks around Loki’s cock in a filthy promise of what’s to come.
“Yeah, yeah,” Loki breathes, a little shaky. He leans back and slips his
fingers down Thor’s back and over his backside. “So fucking greedy for me, you
just can’t wait to have your little brother fuck you full.” He fumbles with the
lube, swearing when his cock slips free.
Thor inches his legs impossibly wider, lets Loki see all of him: the quivering,
pink clutch of his hole, and under it his plump balls, tightly drawn against
his body. His thick cock is slick and straining, and Loki’s mouth goes dry. He
wants to put his mouth all over Thor, wants to eat him until he’s wet and
sloppy and begging to be fucked.
The second Loki puts his mouth on him, Thor stretches into him. Loki takes his
time to enjoy Thor. Laps at him, licks down the seam of his sac and suckles on
his balls, does it a little harder when Thor hisses and shifts his hips. He
mouthes his way up to Thor’s hole, gets him wet with broad strokes of his
tongue, fits his mouth over the little furl of skin and kisses him there, licks
him open, patient and greedy, until he can slip his tongue inside where Thor is
hot and soft. Somewhere over him he hears the creak of wood, the headboard no
match for Thor’s brute strength.
“Fuck, Loki,” Thor growls. “Do it. I can take it."
“I know you can, but I’m not done yet,” Loki murmurs, carefully scraping his
teeth over Thor’s rim, his own cock twitching in sympathy at Thor’s breathless
gasp. He loves doing this. Loves the intimacy and utter obscenity of kissing
his brother’s hole, how at least in this they trust each other.
Two fingers are an easy fit now, and Loki swears he can feel Thor’s moans where
he strokes him deep inside. He fucks him hard, pushes in to the knuckles just
the way he knows Thor likes, licks into him between his fingers, his own gut
clenching at the way Thor’s thighs are shaking with the strain of holding back.
And that’s it. Loki scrambles to his knees, can’t wait even a second longer to
be inside Thor. He peels Thor’s cheeks apart and presses inside, too fast and
too rough, but Thor rocks back into it with a deep moan, arching his throat and
shaking back the hair that clings to his flushed face.
A frisson of need so hot it almost blinds him shoots up Loki’s spine and he
grinds in gracelessly before he drags back, stretching Thor wide around the the
head of his cock before he shoves in again.
He fucks Thor hard and fast, the way Thor asks—no, begs him for: low and deep
moans of “harder, brother” and “Loki, fuck me, please”.
Thor’s body is tense, his breath coming in labored gasps. He fucks himself
roughly onto the cock that’s stretching him wide, his shoulders bunching with
the effort and his ass shaking with every slap against Loki’s narrow hips.
Norns, Loki will feel this for days, will remember the clenching heat of Thor
around him every time he shifts and feels the ache in his hips.
“So fucking good for me, brother,” Loki pants and Thor contracts sharply around
him with a hiss, clenching so tightly Loki feels his balls draw up at the
exquisite almost-pain. He plunges deep and grinds into Thor, holds himself as
deep as he can, slack-jawed, already on the brink of coming because Thor is
milking him with a vicious clench-release, working himself harshly onto Loki’s
cock with a litany of “yes, brother, there, gods there, fuck me, fill me up”
rumbling from his chest. Loki just needs— gods, yes—
He comes violently, his balls spasming while he empties himself into Thor with
a harsh sob, fucks slick heat into his brother. He comes so hard he’s aching
with it, and when he finally musters enough wit to curl his hand around Thor’s
cock, the rough swipe of his palm over the thick head is enough to make Thor
come with a shout, coating Loki’s hand with thick spurts of come.
They both collapse onto the bed in a graceless heap, Thor shifting them onto
their sides with a huge grunt of effort. Loki regretfully slips out of Thor,
but he curls himself closely around Thor to keep his softened cock tucked into
the snug clutch of Thor’s buttocks, loving the feeling of his come slowly
leaking out of Thor and soaking his own cock and balls.
Thor is still half-hard in his hand, already thickening again. Loki strokes him
slowly, slicking Thor’s come down the shaft and over his balls, squirming at
the thought of being fucked like this later.
“I’m staying, by the way,” Loki says, mouthing drowsily at the sweat that’s
glistening on Thor’s shoulder.
Thor just chuckles and cranes his head back for a deep kiss.
Somewhere in the back Loki thinks he hears Jarvis heave a sigh.
***** Malachite (Out-of-character clothing) *****
Chapter Summary
     Loki likes to go shopping in Paris. Thor wholeheartedly approves.
Chapter Notes
     Written for my 1K followers Pornathon on tumblr. grimsister asked
     for: Thorki with Loki wearing those_hot_green_stileto I showed you a
     while ago.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Loki slips through the door to Thor’s office later than Thor expected. Heimdall
notified him about Loki’s return more than two hours ago. Even after Loki’s
hesitant acceptance back into Asgard’s royal court he’s still not free to come
and go as he pleases.
Loki’s arrival is heralded by the distinct sound of heels clicking against the
marble floor of Thor’s chambers. Loki doesn’t knock, of course not, because
these are his rooms too in all but name, and Thor is suddenly and fiercely glad
that he decided to stay in his private office rather than the imposing rooms
reserved for his duties as king. He’d loathe to share the stunning picture Loki
makes with anyone.
Loki looks very much like his old self these days, a little leaner maybe and
his hair shorter than he’s worn it in years. Thor loves it: it reminds him of
happier days. But it’s not his brother’s familiar features that send Thor’s
blood racing.
“I see you like my little souvenirs from Paris,” Loki smirks, smoothing his
hands over the hem of the short silk robe he’s wearing in. The gesture almost
looks coy, except nothing about Loki has ever been coy. The robe barely covers
the top of his thighs, the bright green silk parting just enough under Loki’s
hands for Thor to catch a glimpse of bare skin and dark curls.
“I’m not quite sure, dear brother. I think maybe you should show me more,” Thor
says, seemingly indecisive. Loki likes to play – well, so does Thor. He leans
back in his chair and waits, feigning patience, as if he isn’t already half-
hard in his trousers.
Loki spins obediently, with his arms raised and his wrists crossed loosely
behind his head. Norns, he’s lovely like this, his long limbs graceful and
strong, his face softened by a teasing smile Thor is aching to lick from his
lips. He wants to kiss, wants to touch, fit his palms against the lush lower
curve of Loki’s ass that’s tempting him where Loki’s robe is riding up with his
movements. Slowly, oh so slowly Loki bends over one of the many chairs
scattered around the room, revealing more pale rounded flesh. He lifts his left
leg, coquettish, teasing, and Thor’s eyes is caught by a flash of green, the
lush green of the robe mirrored on the sole of the dangerously high heels on
Loki’s feet. The black leather makes the pale skin of his ankle look even more
delicate, vulnerable – utterly obscene in its innocence. Thor’s stomach
clenches with a flare of heat, and suddenly he can’t bear to not have his hands
on Loki.
“Come here,” Thor rasps impatiently, followed by a small huff of laughter.
Freya’s tits – an ankle, this is what Loki does to him.
He swallows heavily, unable to tear his eyes from the smooth skin of Loki’s
thighs as he rounds the heavy desk. Thor loves Loki’s legs: they are long and
graceful, always parting for him so easily and drawing him close with
surprising strength.
For now though it’s Thor who’s parting his legs, making room for Loki to stand
between them. Their eyes lock and Thor rolls his hips up greedily, seeking
friction when Loki lifts his right foot into Thor’s lap.
This close Thor can see the slickness on Loki’s thighs. His breath catches and
he suddenly feels suffocated, too hot, like his clothing is strangling him, his
cock fattening against the sudden firm press of Loki’s foot, despite or maybe
because of the sharp heel that’s pressing carefully into the soft skin below
his balls.
“Maybe I should send you to Midgard more often,” Thor groans, his voice rough
with the urgency of his arousal. He cups Loki’s ankle and strokes upwards,
marveling at the contrast of sinewy muscle flexing under soft hairless skin.
“Have you buy a pair of boots that goes up here–” Thor draws a line with his
forefinger, just a hand-width shy of the apex of Loki’s thighs, before he
strokes higher, over hot and slick skin, right between Loki’s legs where he
finds him naked, already wet and open. “And panties trimmed with lace, as it
seems you have forgotten yours.”
“Why don’t you buy them for me,” Loki taunts, but there’s no heat in it. He’s
flushed with desire, his hole quivering against Thor’s fingertips. “Since you
seem to know exactly what you want me to wear.”
“Maybe I will, something pretty that fits right here,” Thor says, slowly
dragging one finger along the cleft of Loki’s ass.
He can see it already, a thin scrap of lace disappearing between Loki’s cheeks,
rubbing over Loki’s tender and fucked open hole, reminding him with every step
of what Thor did to him. “Is that what you were thinking of when you fucked
yourself open for me?” Thor pushes two fingers into Loki and sinks in right to
the second knuckle. He shudders when Loki clenches tightly around him, smooth
and slick inside, silently begging for his cock.
Thor dimly remembers there are things he wanted to say, but all thoughts of
play vanish with the too tight coil of pleasure in his stomach, the low throb
in his heavy balls. He withdraws his fingers and surges up, spurred on by
Loki’s small sound of loss. Turning and depositing Loki on his desk with his
hands clenched tightly around Loki’s hips are one single motion and then they
are both tearing at the laces of Thor’s breeches. Loki’s hands are slick when
he takes Thor’s cock out, seidr or a hidden vial of oil, Thor doesn’t care. He
pushes Loki on his back and lifts his legs onto the desk, spreading them far
enough for his hole to appear between his cheeks, slick and pink and Thor’s.
“Thor!” Loki whines, urging him on with impatient rolls of his hips when Thor
can’t help but let his gaze linger, breathless for long seconds with the things
he wants to do…
And then Thor fucks in, greedy and intractable, heat roiling in the pit of his
stomach at the hungry groan of pleasure he’s startling out of Loki. Loki’s back
bows sharply under the pressure and he bears down onto the thick heft of Thor’s
cock, eager and impatient.
Thor fucks him with deep, burning thrusts, grinding ininin to the hilt,
stuffing Loki full of cock before sliding out until the thick ridge of his
glans tugs at Loki’s rim. Loki writhes on the fat head of his cock, stretched
and full, his heels skittering over the wooden desk as he arches off the desk,
his lashes damp and hectic spots pinking his cheeks. He spurs Thor on – "in me,
Thor, deeper – as Thor rides into him with bruising strength. Loki’s eyes are
wide with lust, his legs trembling every time Thor hits that knot of nerves
inside of him.
Thor is close already, too fast, too soon. He can almost taste it on the back
of his tongue, like ozone before lightning strikes. He shoves in and holds
himself deep until Loki cries out, shaking apart with the heavy weight of
Thor’s cock dragging against him just right. Thor watches, rapt, as the silk
that’s still clinging to Loki darkens, a wet stain spreading where it still
covers Loki’s cock in mock modesty.
His own orgasm hits him like a stroke of lightning, quick and devastating,
driving the air from his lungs. Thor groans, guttural, spending himself inside
Loki in hot spurts that leave him lightheaded and weak with the intensity of
it.
It would be easy to just stay here, falling asleep with Loki under him, lulled
to sleep by the heavy languor of satisfaction and Loki’s hand carding softly
through his hair.
“Thor,” Loki whispers, repeating his name more urgently when Thor can’t muster
the energy to respond. He’s squirming under Thor — no, not squirming, the
wretch is shaking with silent laughter, flinging a crumpled ball of paper at
Thor. “I’m afraid we ruined your modest attempts at diplomatic correspondence.
Most likely though it’s not a big loss and can only benefit from revision.”
It would be so easy, indeed, but this is Loki.
Thor is glad for it.
Chapter End Notes
     I feel like I a cheated a bit with this one because Loki in heels is
     pretty much canon. My sincerest apologies!
***** just be a queen *****
Chapter Summary
     Skating AU. Loki is a figure skater and terrible at staying mad at
     his lover.
 
If there's one thing Loki has learned the hard way, it's not to take anything
for granted, not even his own capabilities.
No matter how confident he is, how hard he's trained to hone his elements to
perfection—one misstep, one split second of distraction and he's flat on his
ass, just as his seven-year-old self less than three minutes after he'd stepped
onto a rink for the first time.
That's why Loki always gives it his best, even when he's skating at an
exhibition rather than an actual championship. There's no price or trophy, but
there’s still a lot to win: respect and admiration, and of course there’s good
money. Even with a silver medal at the National Championship under his belt, it
somehow still feels surreal that people are lining up to see him. It's all Loki
has ever wanted, the reason he's been pushing himself to his limits and beyond
all his life, but it's still—weird, odd in the best of ways.
It feels good to be back home in New York tonight. It's always special because
these are his people, and Loki is determined to give them a show to remember.
Loki love-hates these last seconds before he finally goes out there. Loves the
anticipation and the excitement that's spreading in his belly slow and sweet
like molasses, like the promise of amazing sex, but God, does he hate the
waiting and the worry that something might go wrong despite his best efforts.
Loki never claimed to be a patient man.
He looks into the full-length mirror some merciful soul put up next to the
entry to the rink one last time and tugs on the feathers of his suit, making
sure the thick ruff of green-tipped black plumes is still firmly attached to
his collar.
Tonight is purely for show, so he's opted for something even more daring than
usual to match his rather risqué performance: a black one-piece suit with a
plunging neckline right to his navel, the feathers curving around his neck to
just about his collarbone before they taper off into a smattering of green
rhinestones that thickens again over his crotch. He's dusted glitter on his
face and naked chest, forgoing the obnoxious flesh-colored fabric used for
competitions.
The suit is tight and entirely unforgiving, hugging every plane and angle of
his body. Loki twists and turns, slowly smoothes a hand over his hip, and damn,
his ass looks fantastic in it.
For good measure he blinks his eyes rapidly, pleased when his matching feathery
lashes stay put and don't obstruct his sight. And then his name is called and
he takes a deep breath, pushing all his fretting to the back of his mind.
Just as Loki skates out into the middle of the rink and arranges himself
gracefully on the ice, waiting with his chin tipped low for the familiar beat
to start, he thinks something might be wrong with his eyes after all. There's a
flash of gold in the front row and quite some commotion surrounding it, people
crowding together around a familiar shape.
Fucking Thor.
Of course it's Thor, who else would it be. Nobody knows that golden hair and
those broad shoulders better than Loki. He'd know them everywhere because he
all but lives with the guy. Or more precisely, he would live with him if there
was just enough space for him in Thor's tightly locked closet.
It's a constant sore spot for Loki that he can't just be with Thor, but as a
professional athlete himself he can't begrudge him that he's hesitant to come
out, not if it could very well mean the end of his career. A gay figure skater
is nothing to get excited about these days, is almost expected in a sport that
still strikes many people as girlish, but a gay forward doesn't fit into the
sweat- and testosterone-filled locker rooms of the NHL.
The heavy beat starts to fill the arena, pumps through Loki's body and then
there just isn't time to dwell on why Thor chose today to break their agreement
of no public appearances together.
Loki can feel Thor's eyes on him. It's intense, almost physical, a boost that
lends him that extra bit of strength for his jumps, makes him square his
shoulders a bit more while he sashays over the ice.
God, Loki loves this, the utter joy that floods him while he spins rapidly in a
sit spin, his skates carving a flurry of thin flakes out of the ice that swirl
around him like a storm before they settle lightly on his skin, the burn in his
thighs when he rises out of it and seamlessly launches himself in a scratch
spin, whirling faster and faster until the whole world around him melts into a
colorful blur.
There's barely enough time to catch his breath before it's already time for the
second part of his performance, but he finds Thor easily. He sticks out like a
sore thumb amid the audience, all golden hair and tightly stretched leather.
Their eyes lock, and Thor has the gall to actually wink at Loki with a little
wave.
It's just a split second and it really could be anything, like a greeting to a
camera, but Loki knows it's for him and fool that he is he lets it distract
him. He almost slips when he pulls his leg up in a split towards the front of
his body and has to regain his grip on the blade.
Loki is trained to handle situations like these, and while his mistake hasn't
been even noticed by most people, he knows it would have cost him dearly in a
competition. It takes all his willpower to maintain his professional facade and
not stare daggers at the idiot in the audience. Or to just skate over there and
punch him in the face.
Which might also help with the nervous energy that's drumming through him,
although annoyance is only part of Loki's problem.
Fuck, he's horny. He likes performing in front of Thor, touching himself while
Thor watches him and thousands of people have no idea what is happening right
in front of them.
So what if he rolls his hips with more sass and slaps his ass with more vigor
than ususual. It's what people love about him, his outrageous in-your-face
sexuality, and why not give them the real deal instead of a performance.
Loki drops down on one knee, arches his back and spreads his arms until his
shoulders almost touch the ice. He lets his momentum carry him and for a few
precious seconds he slides over the ice, supported just by his skates and the
tips of his fingers.
His double axel turns out flawless. He's acutely aware of the crowd cheering
him on, roaring their excitement when he lands right on the spot with a dream-
like ease that's the result of a river of tears and blood. He drinks in their
adoration and repays them with another suggestive roll of his hips and a coy
lift of his shoulder, and then he's off again, flying, twirling over the ice in
a combination of turns and steps before he crumbles onto the ice.
Loki waits, stretched out on the ice, his cheek going numb from the cold and
his heart hammering out of his chest. Two, three, and yes, the audience finally
erupts into a whirlwind of applause and whistles. This is what he lives for,
why all the work and pain is ultimately worth it.
Loki rises gracefully and lets himself be carried by the audience’s adoration
and the wild pounding of his heart, circling around the ice, smiling and
waving, and then a second time and a third, until he can no longer ignore
Sigyn’s wild gesturing from behind the boards and the speaker already
announcing the next performer.
He may be getting carried away at times, but nobody can accuse him of not being
dedicated to his art and his fans.
"First, that was sloppy as hell," Sigyn welcomes him as soon as he steps off
the ice.
Loki just rolls his eyes, still too high on adrenaline to give a single fuck
about one measly mistake.
"Secondly, what the fuck was that? Call me oldfashioned, but I think foreplay
is something that belongs in the bedroom."
"I have no idea what you’re on about."
Loki tries for his best innocent smile, the one with the huge doe eyes that
makes elderly ladies smile benignly and pat his cheeks. Judging by Sigyn’s
raised eyebrow he’s failing miserably. As his trainer she doesn’t only know
what goes on in his personal life, she’s also learned fairly quickly to see
through his bullshit. All of it.
Loki accepts the caps she hands him for his blades, still unable to wipe the
grin from his face while he puts them on.
"Why do I even bother," Sigyn mutters while she follows him into the bustling
backstage area. "All I’m asking is that you won’t let him fuck you over. Not
this close to the Championships."
"I promise. No tears, no drama." Loki flutters his feathery lashes at her while
he pulls off his skates and hands them over.
One of the helpers overhears them and snorts. Sigyn just shakes her head,
clearly not buying it. As if it’s Loki’s fault that he sometimes gets a little
emotional. Okay, maybe not just sometimes. Whatever.
Still, he’s grateful that she cares. Sigyn’s always been there for him, helping
him through messy breakups, rejection and failures. He values her advice more
than anything, on and off the ice.
"So, was it really too much?"
"Oh you, stop fishing for compliments, you know they loved it. It was very… ah,
saucy. Very you," Sigyn says with a little gesture that says more about what
you entails than a thousand words. "Now go shower, we have work to do
tomorrow."
***
His dressing room is tiny, but at least Loki doesn’t have to share.
It looks even smaller with Thor lounging in the desk chair, his jacket
carelessly tossed over Loki's bags, taking up all of the space until it seems
there simply isn’t enough room left for Loki to fit in.
"Tell me who let you in so I can have them fired." It’s a perfectly acceptable
greeting. Loki is still mad at him.
"No need, I did it all myself!" Thor grins up at him, twirling a credit card
between his fingers.
Now isn’t that just peachy. So Thor is not just an asshole, but now he’s also a
burglar.
"Do you think showing up like this is funny? I thought we have an
understanding."
Thor makes no move to offer Loki the only chair in the room, so Loki wordlessly
squeezes himself between Thor and the small desk that serves as a vanity. He
bends at the waist and peers into the brightly lit mirror, carefully plucking
at his feather lashes. They don't budge and he only succeeds in making his eyes
water.
"That thing where you pulled up your leg—"
"Oh, you mean that thing I almost fucked up because you distracted me? That
thing?"
Loki could have accepted his slip and move on, he’s done it a hundred times,
but now that Thor has to rub it in his face it comes rushing back and Loki can
feel it chafing at him again. He whirls around, lashes forgotten, poking a
finger against the arrogant bastard's chest.
"Do you see me coming to your games and shaking my ass in the front row?"
Thor just waggles his brows, his eyes traveling down Loki’s body, slow and hot,
a clear indication that he wouldn’t mind the idea.
Loki's cheeks are heating up with indignation and he can feel it, a full-scale
meltdown barreling towards him, his voice loud enough that everyone who cares
can probably hear them through the thin walls, but he can’t bring himself to
give a single fuck about it. Nobody is allowed to meddle with his skating,
especially not Thor. Fucking Thor who sacrifices everything for hockey, will
even give up sex before an important game to channel his focus on nothing but
the task beforehand.
"I don’t recall that I was shaking my ass. What I meant was that thing that was
amazing and made the crowd go completely mad for you." Thor’s voice is calm,
soothing, and he sounds so damn sincere Loki can almost immediately feel
himself soften, his anger draining away against his will.
"You liked it?"
"Loki, I loved it, you absolutely killed it out there." Thor reaches out for
Loki, and he lets himself be pulled into Thor's lap. So much for staying mad at
him. The chair creaks under their combined weight, but it holds up manfully.
"You're extraordinary." Thor's thumb is a bit rough against Loki's cheekbone,
but he leans into it anyway. "I didn't mean to intrude, but skating is such a
big part of your life and I know next to nothing about it." A soft kiss against
Loki's cheek. "Don't worry. Nobody thinks twice if I go to a sports event here
in New York and I didn't want to waste the opportunity to see that part of
you."
What is Loki supposed to say to that that won't end with him making a complete
fool out himself?
Most of the time he’s okay with how things are between them, but sometimes he’s
just so resentful and miserable that they can’t share these huge parts of their
lives, can’t let everyone know how they feel.
Loki has been out since he was sixteen, and if there’s one rule that he’s
always stuck to it’s that he’s never going to be somebody’s dirty secret.
It’s the first rule he broke for Thor, but by far not the last.
Living two separate lives that rarely intersect but for sex and sometimes
snuggles is becoming increasingly difficult, and Loki thinks that maybe he’s
doing it again, caring so much more than his partner…
And now Thor is changing the rules.
"You still could have told me," Loki says, some small part of his annoyance
still clinging stubbornly like a sticky piece of paper he can’t shake off.
"And you would have said No."
Thor pulls him closer, one large hand cupping Loki’s ass, and Loki goes and
leans in, their lips meeting for a kiss that quickly grows heated.
He should tell Thor that he's not going to get away so easily, but thinking is
rapidly becoming the last thing on Loki’s mind, not with Thor licking into him,
coaxing, teasing, like he’s craving Loki’s taste.
Thor worked up is like a force of nature, inevitable, and Loki couldn’t resist
him even if he wanted. He’s come to accept that his body has a mind of its own
when it comes to Thor’s touch, a wide-open greediness that allows no space for
shame or modesty.
Loki sucks on Thor’s tongue, slow and wet, a suggestion of what he really wants
to do, moaning into the kiss when Thor’s fingers stroke down the seam of his
body and dip between his cheeks, one thick finger pressing down hard enough on
the soft fabric of his suit to rub over his hole. Loki pulls back from the
kiss, gasping at the sudden jolt of pleasure that shoots up his spine, his hips
tilting back instinctively before he even realizes that he’s doing it.
Thor gives him a slow, wide smile, the one that promises terrible and wonderful
delights, and then he does it again, rubbing slowly, up, down, and god, he
doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Loki bites back a moan and slowly circles
his hips, savoring the delicious burn when the thong of his dance belt rubs
over the rim of his hole before it slips inside with another firm push.
"Yeah, you like that," Thor murmurs, his breath hot against Loki’s cheek. He’s
taking Loki apart with a single finger, damn him, gentling the frantic movement
of Loki’s hips into something more sensuous with his other hand.
"Jesus, Thor," Loki half-laughs on a shaky exhale. "Not here, there are
people—" and then he shudders again because Thor is relentless and doesn’t let
up. The dry drag of fabric, the teasing promise of being filled, it all makes
his gut clench tight with hot surges of lust.
"You’re the one who always complains that I’m not open to new possibilities." A
slow lick up Loki’s throat, up over his chin to his lips, and how can the
bastard still be this coherent when Loki is burning up with want.
"I want you to do that thing with your leg and then I’m going to fuck you."
Thor goes in for another kiss, breathing "Like this" into the hot air between
them before he slips his tongue inside, fucking Loki’s mouth in time with the
slow thrusts into Loki’s body.
Loki nips at his lips, hard, for the most part because he needs to do something
that isn’t just spreading his legs and begging for it. He’s wet already. He
always gets so wet from having his hole played with, his cock leaking into the
tight, hot space where his cock is trapped against his belly by his dance belt.
He’ll have to burn these clothes, the belt and the suit, just everything,
because there’s no way he can wear them again in public without causing a
scandal for walking around with a massive boner.
Thor suddenly rises, taking Loki with him in a showy display of strength that
makes Loki go hot all over.
Loki’s back hits the wall with a dull thud, but he barely notices it, just
flails a bit and tries to steady himself with his legs wrapped around Thor’s
waist and his fingers digging hard into the meat of Thor’s shoulders.
Thor is hard, Loki can feel the thick bulge of his cock pressing against his
own where their bodies meet. He wants to move, rub himself all over Thor, but
pinned between the wall and Thor’s heavy bulk he has no leverage at all.
"I thought there's going to be—ah," Loki starts, quickly losing his thought
when Thor hoists him up, his hands warm and sure against the back of Loki's
thighs, shifting his hips and settling his cock more firmly against the crease
of Loki's ass with a slow, shameless drag.
"So greedy. Wanton little thing." Thor's voice has gone low, raspy, washing
over Loki like a physical touch. "Don't worry, 'm gonna fill you up so good." A
hard roll of Thor's hips." Like this."
That's all the warning Loki gets before his mind goes blank with a crashing
wave of need. Thor's fingers are digging hard enough to leave bruises into
Loki's hips as he bounces him against the hard bulge of his cock, a filthy
promise of things to come.
That's it.
Loki is beyond done. Done with Thor's bone-melting teasing, done with wanting,
done with needing to be fucked so much his skin is burning with it. He wiggles
and squirms out of Thor's grasp, clumsy in his haste, struggling to stand on
his own legs.
"Let me down!" It sounds less demanding than Loki would like, but his dignity
can wait. Right now he's two minutes away from coming and if there's a good
fucking waiting for him he'd rather come on Thor's thick cock than soiling his
pants.
"Lube, condom!" Loki gasps. He tugs at his suit and dance belt, hissing when
the tape he used to keep his neckline in place tears at his skin. Of all the
times he chooses to wear a one-piece suit it had to be today, just his luck.
Thor gives him a curious look, but he's too focused on fishing several smack
packets out of the pockets of his jacket to comment on Loki’s wardrobe. Good,
at least he came prepared.
Finally naked it's Loki's time to pull Thor in for a kiss that's all tongue,
teeth and impatience. "Want it," he pants into Thor's mouth. "Take out your
cock."
The burr of Thor’s zipper is unnaturally loud in the small room, drowning out
the noises that are filtering in from the other side of the door. Thor goes
slow, pulls the slide down carefully, revealing damp golden curls and the
slick, pink tip of his cock. Loki watches, rapt and greedy, as Thor reveals
inch after glorious inch, his shirt rucked up, exposing the hard planes of his
lower stomach.
It’s hard to look away from the way the dark denim and the golden zipper are
framing Thor’s cock in a perfect vee. Loki can’t think of anything he wants
more than to drop to his knees and slide his lips over the thick head of Thor’s
cock, tasting the sheen of wetness he can see and smell, but even more than
that he wants it inside of him. Still, he can’t resist a quick touch, reaching
out to thumb across the wet tip, smearing it around.
"Enough! Turn around for me," Thor rasps. He grips Lokis’s shoulder, spinning
him around to face the wall. "Yeah, just like that."
Loki braces himself against the wall on his lower arms, shifting his legs wide
and pushing his ass back. He knows how he looks like this, his crease pink and
smooth, and he's more than satisfied when Thor’s intake of breath is quick and
harsh, followed by a reverent "Fuck" that’s barely above a whisper.
Thor loves to watch.
"Yes, please," Loki says, but instead of flippant like he meant to it comes out
desperate and shaky. He shifts his knees even wider and lets Thor look his
fill, arching his back to show off his heavy balls, already tight and drawn up,
the pink clutch of his hole.
The rumble of Thor’s laugh is low and knowing, makes Loki’s toes curl against
the worn carpet. He shivers at the sudden, heavy press of Thor’s weight against
his back, one large hand palming down his front and settling heavily against
his belly, pulling him back against slick fingertips. One blunt finger presses
down on his hole before it sinks inside, just the tip, and Loki gasps out a sob
at the familiar burn, arches his back and pushes back into it.
Thor fucks him open with slick, little curls of one finger at first, quick but
careful, softening the stubborn muscle until he can work a second and a third
finger in. Loki cries out at the sudden stretch, but it’s nothing he can’t
take, nothing he hasn’t done to himself.
It’s so much better like this, the slide of skin against skin instead of the
dry rasp of fabric, with Thor’s slick fingers sliding in deep. God, Loki is so
wet and he feels a little like crying, strung out with anticipation, clenching
down hard on the perfect stretch of Thor’s knuckles pressing him open. "Please,
Thor,…"
Thor makes a sound deep in his throat, somewhere between relieved and
impatient, his fingers sliding out before the last syllable drops from Loki’s
lips, as if he’s been waiting just for him to beg.
"I’m going to fucking turn you inside out."
Loki flares with want. He pushes back, getting Thor’s weight off him so he can
turn around. Thor looks as wrecked as Loki feels, his face flushed and damp
with sweat.
"Hard and fast," Loki says. He starts pulling his left leg towards his body,
wincing a little at the pull of overused muscle. "I don’t know how long I can
do this, and we should have been out of here ten minutes ago."
Thor steps close and catches his leg, guiding it up and holding it steady
against the very side of his chest. He pulls Loki in with his other hand on
Loki’s ass, his cock slipping between Loki’s cheeks and Loki needs—oh God, he
needs this, the blunt pressure of hot skin, Thor’s fat cockhead kissing up
against his hole, nudging him open…
Thor starts pushing his cock up Loki’s ass, goes in hard, harder, balls deep in
one relentless stroke. It’s—fuck, too much, too good. Loki has to steady
himself with his hands against Thor’s shoulders and lets his weight sag a
little, tries to relax himself against the burning stretch of it. It's no use.
Thor is too big, stretching him wide and filling him so deep, right where Loki
needs it.
The burning pull of Thor drawing out is unbearable, the threat of not being
stuffed full agonizing, and Loki loves it, the intimate push and pull of skin
against skin and the promise of Thor’s cock sinking even deeper into him.
"Hard and fast?" Thor rasps. He leans back a little and thrusts up hard, body
shuddering in pleasure when Loki clenches down on him. "I’ll give you hard and
fast."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Loki gasps out, too ruined for actual words. He can’t move,
can’t see anything but the sweat-slick hollow of Thor’s throat right in front
of him. All he can do is clamp down on Thor’s cock and ride out the waves of
pleasure, his ass pulsing with every push inside.
The angle of Thor’s cock is ruthless, pounding ininin so hard Loki is rocking
up on the ball of his foot with every perfect thrust. Soft, pained noises are
spilling from the back of his throat every time Thor nudges that perfect spot
inside of him, his body tingling with the hot burn of arousal coiling tighter
and tighter in his gut.
"So good," Loki gasps. He can’t touch his cock like this, but he doesn’t need
it, not with that heavy weight inside of him. He just needs a little more,
harder, deeper…
Thor slams into him, going hard, harder, groaning and swearing, his hips
stuttering as he comes and that’s enough to tip Loki right over the edge. He
comes with an urgent gasping whine, one huge shuddering heave of his chest as
he clenches down and comes all over himself.
"Fuck, baby, that was—fuck," Thor rasps, his voice unsteady. He presses an
apologetic kiss to the corner of Loki’s mouth as he pulls out and lowers Loki’s
leg.
Loki groans, relieved that he can feel his leg again. Thor’s hands don’t leave
him until he’s steady on his feet and he’s grateful for it, but he’s even more
grateful when he can finally breathe without Thor’s heavy bulk weighing him
down.
"It was fantastic, yes," Loki says, regretting it immediately after he takes a
few steps. He groans, cataloguing the aches in his body. His leg feels
overstretched, his hole puffy and sore. There’s no way he’ll be able to step
onto the ice tomorrow.
"And we’re never doing it again."
Thor wisely keeps silent. Or maybe he’s just biding his time. Loki has never
known Thor to give up on an idea this easily.
Loki pulls on his briefs, jeans and a turtleneck. A look into the mirror shows
that he looks exactly how he feels: well-fucked and beyond satisfied. He grabs
a make-up wipe and half-heartedly rubs at the mascara smudges and clumped false
lashes around his eyes, but all he achieves is taking it up a notch from bad to
disaster.
"Leave it," Thor says, amused, his laugh a little hoarse. "Everybody is going
to know what we’ve done in here anyways."
He’s already at the door, all zipped-up and with his jacket on, holding a hand
out to Loki. In the crook of his arm dangles Loki’s purple Birkin bag.
There’s a message somewhere in this, Loki thinks. He might have it all wrong,
though, still a little stupid with that gut-wrenching orgasm.
Or maybe he has it exactly right, because Thor is still holding out his hand,
wiggling his fingers impatiently. Something in Loki’s chest flutters and
spreads down to his belly, warm and soft, when he takes it, following Thor out
of the door.
The corridor outside is fairly empty, but there are enough people that Loki
feels his cheeks go hot. At least nobody is giving them funny looks, so Loki
lets himself feel a pang of disappointment when Thor lets go of his hand.
"This bag weighs at least a ton," Thor complains with a huff, shifting it so he
can actually carry it in his right hand. "What do you have in there, a handful
of rocks?"
Loki opens his mouth, but whatever witty response he had is lost with the
feeling of Thor’s arm sliding around his waist, his hand settling on Loki’s
hip. Warm and sure, like it belongs there.
Somewhere behind them a camera clicks.
Loki laughs. It’s tentative at first, as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to.
But Thor joins in and laughs with him, happy and quiet, and Loki smiles so hard
his cheeks are hurting while he leans into Thor’s side, right where he belongs.
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