Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/544232.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor:_Tales_of_Asgard, Thor_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor
  Character:
      Loki, Thor
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Plot_What_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-23 Words: 2119
****** Between the Drinks and Subtle Things ******
by cm_(mumblemutter)
Summary
     Thor and Loki, afterwards.
Loki doesn't visit father.
He wanders the hallways until he ends up in the kitchen, drawn there by the
scent of freshly baked bread. He swings himself up onto one of the wooden
countertops and picks up a roll, idly teasing apart a piece before putting it
to his mouth. It's still warm, and faintly buttery, but underneath it all he
can still taste ash in his mouth. The cook scurries around him, as do the rest
of the maids, expertly avoiding his gaze. Word would have gotten around: Asgard
breeds gossip like Jotunheim breeds monsters, most especially the royal court.
Perhaps this applies to all the nine realms, and even now Thrym would have to
bear the whispers and the questions: why he would spare the impetuous son of
Odin when his trespass was so audacious, the consequences of his actions so
grave.
According to what Loki has heard, from merely listening to whispered
conversation, Thor offered himself up as sacrifice, and was spared for his
bravery, for his willingness to die.
Typical, that.
Loki tosses the bread away.
"It doesn't suit you, your highness?" One of the serving maidens, blinking at
him with wide guileless eyes, irises as pale blue as ice.
Loki waves her away, says, "I seem to have lost my appetite, that is all." He
jumps off the counter without waiting for a response, walks resolutely towards
the exit leading out to the gardens. She calls out after him, but he ignores
her.
Outside, he curls up under a tree, shaded from the sun and yet still warm, idly
practicing spells until he tires of them. Until the sun starts to set, and he
cannot put off going back into the castle any longer.
His chambers are empty, as expected. Loki considers briefly to try and sleep
after all, but it's a worse prospect, to spend the night alone, even if Thor is
the very reason why he cannot bear the silence of his large, empty rooms.
Algrim was always closer to Thor than he was to Loki. Even if Loki's first
memory of him was of being picked up by Algrim when he'd gotten lost after
wandering off and fallen into a marsh pit. Sick and terrified and unable to
stop sobbing, and Algrim had held him, carried him back home to be cleaned up,
and never spoke of the incident again.
He was kind, Loki remembers that. Tragedy had made him kind. Or so it had
always been assumed.
Thor's chamber door is unlocked and Loki enters without knocking first.
"Loki," Thor says. He's seated by the window, naked from the waist up. Loki
shuts the door quietly behind him.
"Thor," Loki says, and is on his knees almost before he even reaches Thor.
Thor merely watches him, his body tense as Loki places his head on his thigh.
"You did not visit father," he says finally. Loki feels his fingers press into
the base of his skull, softly scratching the skin there. He twists his head and
glances up to find Thor's eyes closed, his expression almost serene. He opens
his eyes as Loki stares, and Loki can always tell when Thor is shaping his
thoughts into some form of speech, so he reaches for the laces on Thor's
trousers and tugs on them until Thor loses interest in all but this: Loki
releasing one lace from its loop after another, his fingers not stumbling once.
"Loki," Thor starts.
"Don't."
Thor ignores him, instead grabbing hold of a wrist and hauling Loki into his
arms. "I am sorry," he says, voice quiet and anguished. "I did not mean to."
Loki kisses him then, clumsily, ineptly, but Thor does not seem to mind. He
kisses Loki back until Loki is lightheaded and wanting, until he wishes to do
nothing else but slide back down onto his knees, and as soon as Thor releases
him he shimmies downwards, back to where he started.
Thor sighs, settles into silence as Loki leans forward to free him finally,
draw him into his mouth. Loki focuses on Thor's reactions, on the quickening of
his breath, on pleasing him, until there's nothing else to focus on, just this
moment, the two of them here and now. He feels a flash of triumph when Thor
leans forward to wrap his fist into Loki's hair. "Oh," he groans, as Loki
stretches his mouth wider to accommodate him, as he hits the back of Loki's
throat, and Loki's jaw starts to ache and he can't quite breathe but he doesn't
care he doesn't care he doesn't -
- Thor yanks his head back, hard enough that it hurts, and spills, hot and wet
and messy, catching Loki's face.
He must look a sight, lips bruised and red and seed dripping down his chin. He
raises a hand defiantly to wipe the mess with his sleeve, but Thor catches his
hand and hauls him back up into his lap, pressing Loki's face into his neck.
Thor's body is too hot as always, and Loki wants to curl up in it, wants to
bask in his light. Instead he shudders and pulls away, staggers to his feet and
towards Thor's bed. He falls down upon it in a messy heap, waiting for Thor to
follow.
Thor drapes himself over Loki's body, and Loki had almost forgotten about his
own need until Thor's fingers find him under his breeches. "Don't," Loki
protests. "I don't want -" But oh, he does. Thor's hand is without grace,
merely ruthless and practised, and Loki keens and arches his back and mumbles
numerous embarrassing things that he's grateful are mostly swallowed by Thor's
mouth. Until it's done, and Thor's calling his name, and Loki thinks he might
cry. Instead he says: "I can taste her on you."
Thor moves away, but only slightly, only so he can bring his hand up to his
mouth to lick a slow stripe up his palm. "There," he says, "Now I only taste of
you." There's a smile in his voice, and Loki turns his cheek to the sheets,
allows his hair to fall across his face so he will not have to look at Thor.
Thor just sighs and pulls at Loki until he's forced to turn back to him. But
Loki's too hot now, nothing but a frightful, sticky mess, so he starts tugging
fitfully at himself, and then at Thor, until they're both naked and their
clothes piled untidily upon the floor.
"I do not want to talk of Sif," Thor says sternly, rolling himself back on top
of Loki and nudging at him with his knee until Loki opens his thighs. Thor
settles in between them as if it is his rightful place, and catches Loki's
wrists in one hand, raising them high above his head.
"Why not talk about Sif." There are other things they could talk about and Loki
would rather not, if all Thor is capable of asking for is forgiveness. Loki
would give it, in word if nothing else, because the alternative is not a path
he wishes to follow, not with Thor. "Was it sweet, or did she kiss you as if
she were the man? They learn more than just how to shoot arrows and despise
men, the Valkyries."
"It was one kiss, nothing more."
Loki has had enough. "Get off me," he says, and he starts to struggle, but as
always Thor holds him down almost effortlessly, even when Loki starts using his
actual strength.
"Loki, be reasonable. It was just a kiss."
"I am being reasonable. I am reasonably asking that you release me and go mount
that wench of yours if you so desperately desire her."
"But she is not here now." Thor frowns, and must realize his mistake almost as
soon as it leaves his mouth. "Because I do not want her here now," he continues
roughly. "It is you that I want. Loki."
"Let me go," Loki says, but he stops struggling. It's enough for Thor to
release the grip on his wrists, to raise himself up onto his elbows, hair
falling softly across his face and tickling Loki's cheeks. Loki finds a space
between their bodies, trails his fingers across Thor's chest until he reaches
where his heart should be. It's not a spell, merely a half formed thought, as
much effort as instructing his body to move, or breathe. The cold spreads out
from Loki's fingers, through skin and muscle and bone, and Thor gasps and
stutters, his entire frame tightening in shock.
For the briefest of moments, his heart stops beating entirely.
It resumes yet again when Loki pulls away his hand, startled.
"That's some trick," Thor says, sounding faintly disoriented, and the air
crystallizes around his mouth when he speaks.
"Water, mist, ice," Loki says, flexing his fingers experimentally. It's so
easy. This, of all things.
"Amora," Thor says, disdain deepening his voice. "You talk of wenches. At least
Sif is to be a warrior, not just a -"
"What. A sorceress? A trickster? A weaver of magic?"
"That is not what I meant."
It is, it always has been, but Loki is tired of this argument, and his chambers
are empty and lonely, and more than Sif, he can taste ash in the back of his
throat, so he softens his gaze, says, "I know," and lifts his head to trail his
lips across the flushed slant of Thor's cheekbone.
Thor growls, deep and low, and presses down, his thighs heavy and his cock
hard, pushing against Loki until Loki yields, spreads his legs apart as far as
he can. "Please," he mumbles, and he wants nothing more than this right now,
Thor thick and slick and sliding in between Loki's thighs, seeking friction. He
finds it against Loki's belly, takes both of them in one hand in a rhythm that
Loki almost cannot bear, not this soon. Thor croons into his ear, and Loki digs
his heels in and fists the sheets and it's too much, and everything spirals
away into flesh and bone and his own shocked gasps. He spills before Thor, is
aware of it only when Thor sits up, hair damp and loose over his face and hand
still working furiously, until he gasps, and curls over Loki, splattering his
chest with spurts of wet heat.
They do not move, for a while.
Thor collapses onto his back, and drags Loki along, nestles him against his
chest, uncaring about the mess soiling them both. Loki squirms uncomfortably,
but settles down when Thor displays no intention of releasing him.
"Father says he will no longer bar me from leaving Asgard. That I am to train
to be a real warrior."
Loki's only grateful that his face is pressed against Thor's chest so Thor
can't see the pained expression on his face. "That is fantastic news, brother."
"We will have glorious adventures." We. Of course we. He will be dragged into
whatever mess Thor will bumble his way into, and he can foresee himself paying
the price for it, over and over again. And yet.
And yet. He twists and lifts himself onto his elbows, stares down at Thor's
reckless, arrogant face. "Well, I suppose someone will have to come along to
make sure you do not go off and get yourself killed. Of course then I would be
the only heir to the throne. That would please me."
"The throne would not suit you. I cannot imagine you holding court for hours.
Although you do enjoy the sound of your own voice."
Loki puts his fingers to Thor's mouth. "And you imagine it would suit you
better?"
"It is too far in the future to even contemplate, Loki." He grabs Loki's hand
and presses his lips against the palm. "Your fingers are always so cold."
"Only because you give off heat like a furnace. All that hot air." A thought:
"What if I refused, then."
Thor reacts as if Loki had threatened to abandon him to the depths of Niflheim.
"But who else would I trust by my side?"
"You will make do, I'm certain. Perhaps Sif -" Thor doesn't allow him to
finish, instead drags him down yet again, wraps unyielding arms around him.
"I will not make the same mistakes yet again, Loki. Have faith in me."
"I always do," Loki says, and finally he sighs. "Adventures. Now would you
please release me so I can return to my room." He yawns despite himself. "I am
rather tired."
"Stay," Thor says quietly. "We will sneak you out in the morning. No one will
notice."
"No, I should -" But he's already drifting off, already forgetting what he
wanted to say. Tomorrow, then.
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