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It is almost too quiet.
A tree-lined valley in rural Alfheim offers a temporary home to Asgard’s army, and as night falls so too does the chatter and bustle of their campsite. It is near-silent now but for the burbling song of a nearby stream and the shuffle and snort of tethered horses grazing. The peace should be cherished, Loki knows, having fought so hard to preserve it; perhaps he ought to be grateful, but he is far from home and his patience wanes fast. Try as he might, sleep does not come easily.
After a fortnight of travelling and fighting battles across no fewer than four of the nine realms — of seemingly endless strategising and security council meetings and tedious negotiations — Loki has long since grown tired of the cramped, dreary interior of his tent. He has had quite enough of minimal sleep, meagre food rations and washing in river water by the light of a lantern.
Tomorrow, they shall attend one more meeting then call for the Bifrost. Home beckons, and he can hardly wait. He misses his books and his finest clothing; long baths with scented soap and chalices of the most exquisite wine. The luxury of silk sheets in his own bed.
In someone else’s.
He misses Thor. For nearly two weeks now his brother has been just out of reach: always close by, yet never his alone. Two days ago, grinning broadly and sweat-damp with the exertion of a battle hard-won, Thor had thrown an arm around his shoulder amidst their fellow warriors and tugged him against his body in a good-natured, brotherly sort of way. His fingers had brushed against the bare skin of Loki’s neck, there one moment and gone the next, and Loki has hardly stopped thinking about it since.
It is therefore with relief rather than irritation that Loki hears the thump of boots treading the path between Thor’s tent and his own. Pushing back the blankets, he sits up in anticipation, the flame in a swaying lantern glowing like a gemstone through the canvas as the footsteps draw nearer.
“You,” Loki says firmly as the entryway is pulled open and parted, “are not supposed to be here.”
He had been aiming for stern, but the need to lower his voice to keep from waking the others nearby softens it to something far closer to fondness.
“I cannot visit you, for conversation?” Thor says. “It’s very important.”
His cocksure grin suggests otherwise, but Loki gestures him inside anyway.
“Hurry, then, before anyone sees you, you great oaf. But don’t for one moment think that you’re staying here tonight.”
Thor sets down his lantern and ties the entryway closed behind him, eagerly tugging off his boots and his cloak so he can join Loki on the floor. There is very little room to accommodate them both, particularly given that Thor takes up twice as much space as Loki does, but after so many nights apart Loki finds he does not mind it.
“You wanted conversation,” Loki says, facing one another atop the single pillow they’re forced to share. The walls of the tent are enough to allow privacy so long as both the lantern’s light and their voices are kept low enough, but they will have to be careful. “What is so terribly important that we ought to discuss it now?”
“I must tell you very urgently how much I have missed you,” says Thor. His eyes are alight with mischief; Loki longs to hit him and to kiss him both, but refrains from doing either. “And I came here to tell you all the ways in which I intend to have you when we finally return home.”
Loki rolls his eyes, though his traitorous mouth betrays him and he finds himself smiling despite his attempts not to.
“That is urgent,” says Loki, flopping over onto his back with a sigh. “I’m so glad you came here with such pressing news.”
“It is pressing,” Thor agrees. He props himself up with his chin in one hand, looking down at him with open affection. “Loki, I have not taken you to bed in two weeks.”
Loki gives him a withering look.
“It has not been two weeks, Thor. It has been thirteen days and some fourteen hours, if one were counting. And thirty minutes,” he adds as an afterthought, gently teasing. “Give or take.”
Thor’s hand curls around Loki’s thigh, the heat of his palm seeping through the clinging fabric of his sleeping trousers. He moves over him, onto him, Loki’s legs spreading wide to accommodate.
“Give,” Thor echoes, one eyebrow arched, turning it into something filthy as he brings their bodies flush and ruts down against him. “Or take?”
It sets Loki’s body alight, makes his cock stir. Thor does it again, the sway of his hips into Loki’s like a rolling thrust. How generous Thor can be, with so much to give; were they anywhere else in this moment, Loki would offer himself up for the taking in a heartbeat.
“Whatever do you need me for?” Loki asks him, brow furrowed with feigned confusion. “You have hands, do you not?”
Thor shifts his weight over onto one arm so he can take one of Loki’s hands in his own, nipping at the tips of his fingers with his teeth in a glorious jolt of sensation. No sooner than he has done so, he kisses each of them in turn, so delicate an act of worship that it makes Loki all but melt beneath him.
“I do,” Thor agrees, a pleasing rumble. “I prefer yours.”
“What a coincidence,” Loki lies. “I prefer mine, too.”
Thor laughs it off easily enough, seeing right through him.
“If you mean to bring yourself off without my help, brother, I will gladly watch.”
His eyes are big and earnest now, all his longing laid bare. Loki cannot possibly deny him.
“You’re here now, I suppose,” Loki sighs. “So I might as well allow it.” He reaches to wrap his fingers around the gorgeous, sun-bronzed pillar of Thor’s neck; there’s no real pressure behind it, but nevertheless an enticing suggestion that there could be. “I might even make use of you, if you behave yourself.”
Tendrils of magic wind their way around their bodies, their clothing scattering into light fragments and vanishing away to leave them both bare. Thor inhales sharply, shivering bodily at the abrupt change. His throat bobs beneath Loki’s palm as he swallows hard.
Loki trails his fingers down Thor’s sternum, the solid muscle of his stomach, to stroke his cock once and once only. Thor is so thick and hard, searingly hot against his palm. Norns, Loki has missed this even more than he had realised, pent-up arousal making him quake like a plucked string despite barely having touched one another yet.
Thor moves to kiss him, but Loki turns at the last moment so Thor’s lips meet the corner of his mouth instead.
“Ah — not yet,” Loki says, delighting in the disappointed groan Thor buries against his shoulder. “Not here. You can wait one more day to kiss me, I’m quite sure.”
“How cruel you are, brother,” Thor murmurs, touching his lips to Loki’s jaw and the divot between his collarbones instead. “Wicked beyond reason.”
“Of course,” Loki says, smug. They both know Thor likes being forced to wait for the things he wants just as much as Loki likes to inflict such torments upon him. “Besides, brother. You were going to tell me about your intentions on returning home to Asgard, were you not?”
“I was,” Thor agrees. “I shall.”
He moves over onto his side alongside Loki, giving him space to sprawl out a little.
“I’m listening.”
Loki reaches down to take himself in hand, Thor’s eyes visibly tracking the movement as he begins to stroke himself.
“I have been having thoughts of late,” Thor begins. His voice is unfathomably deep, his breath a caress against the shell of Loki’s ear. “They have driven me half mad with wanting. The dressing table in your bedroom — the one that is just the right size to bend you over. Do you recall the one I mean?”
Loki could hardly forget it. Many happy memories have been created on and over that particular piece, though perhaps it has been a while since they used it last. He continues to draw his hand along the length of his own cock as he ponders it, loose-gripped and languorous.
“I do. Continue.”
“Tomorrow evening, I plan to do exactly that,” Thor says. “And I shall fuck you like that until you are so weak with pleasure you can hardly stay standing.”
He draws the tips of two fingers across the top of Loki’s thighs, slow and deliberate, marking precisely where the solid edge of the table will rest when Thor folds him at the waist to be ruthlessly fucked over it. The exact places dark bruises will form, as they have done before. Keepsakes Loki will carry beneath his clothing in the days that follow.
The backs of Thor’s fingers brush against his balls as they make the journey over, and Loki cannot help but audibly gasp. To touch him so boldly is not entirely within the spirit of their game, Loki thinks — the rules loose and unspoken and flexible as they are — but as he draws his hand along his cock in a tighter-clenched grip than before, white-hot pleasure suffusing his body like a lightning strike, he finds himself quite incapable of arguing against it.
“Will you?” Loki says, just as soon as he regains the capacity for coherent speech. “I look forward to it. But I do hope that isn’t all you intend for us, after so long kept waiting.”
Thor laughs softly.
“Do not concern yourself, brother. Just as soon as I spend inside you, I plan to give you my fingers in place of my prick, and I will keep you on them until I’ve made you finish twice.”
Loki turns his head on the pillow to gaze wistfully at Thor’s hands. He longs to feel his fingers stroking deep inside him, Thor’s spending forced from him to drip from thigh to ankle. His brother is most adept at fingering him until he sees stars — sprawling, dazzling galaxies, even — intimately acquainted with his body inside and out.
Even with the table to support his weight, Thor will surely have to keep an arm around his waist just to keep him upright. Or perhaps he might wrap Loki’s hair around his fist instead, tipping his head back and forcing his back into a perfect arch, holding him like that with one hand whilst he fucks him with the other. Loki’s legs feel like liquid at the mere thought of such decadent pleasure.
Thor takes a break from his storytelling to instead apply his mouth to Loki’s neck, focused and intense like he’d devour him if he could. His cock rubs against Loki’s thigh, desperate for attention. Loki knows he must keep quiet but finds it’s quite impossible, biting into his bottom lip to stifle a groan as he strips his hand over his cock with more urgency now.
“What else?” he asks, dying to hear more.
“Hm. After that,” Thor muses, “I shall take you to your bed, and lay you down on your back there.” Loki hums his agreement, lost in the fantasy of it. “I’m going to kiss you here, and here,” Thor continues, moving down to brush his lips against Loki’s inner thighs. “And I will kiss your mouth many, many times, since you deny me tonight.”
Thor comes back up to kiss him on the cheek, so close to Loki’s lips that Loki almost gives in and claims his mouth regardless. He remembers himself at the last moment, though it takes considerable willpower to stand fast in the face of temptation.
“And?”
“And then I intend to put my prick back inside you again,” Thor says, smoothing loose strands of hair from Loki’s forehead where they’ve fallen over his face. “So I can take you so slowly that you’ll be begging me for more.”
Loki’s hand trembles around his cock. Every word Thor says so boldly brings him closer to falling apart. He wants Thor inside him with a full-bodied longing, the absence of him like a hunger. An emptiness unsated.
“I shan’t beg, Thor,” he scoffs, though even to his own ears it hardly sounds convincing.
“You will,” Thor says with a certainty that makes Loki’s toes curl. “I will make sure of it.”
Loki feels like the slightest touch from Thor could send him over the edge, on the cusp of spilling on himself, and at this point has no intention of stopping it.
“And — how will we end it?” he asks, barely more than a whisper.
“I shall let you have my mouth, to finish,” Thor says, moving back down Loki’s body with clear intent and winking at him in a maddeningly attractive sort of way. “And I will swallow every drop gladly.”
He’s close enough to his cock now that Loki’s knuckles skim against Thor’s cheek, imagination and reality beginning to blend so seamlessly that Loki can no longer tell the difference. Thor glances up to meet his eye, a silent question Loki nods his assent to.
Loki releases his cock from his own hand, hard enough now that it smacks back against his stomach to leave a wet spatter of precome Thor laves clean with his tongue. He is grateful that Thor has no intention of teasing and instead sees to him without delay. He suckles at the head only briefly then continues his descent, the flat of his tongue massaging the vein at the underside as he takes the full length of him into his mouth.
Thor’s throat tightens as the head of Loki’s cock slides home, and Loki is helpless to last any longer. It feels exquisite to spill like that, Thor working him through it with enthusiasm and swallowing every pulse exactly as promised.
Breathing hard, Thor sits back on his heels to draw the back of his hand across his spit-wet mouth. He looks halfway to ruin; tense all over, his neglected prick stiff and dark-flushed. There’s a wild look in his eye, distant and stormlike. Loki would hardly be surprised if the sky lit up with lightning at any moment, so much banked energy within him barely kept in check. Thor must be exerting considerable effort not to lose control completely.
Smirking, Loki turns over onto his front, tossing his hair over one shoulder and looking back over the other in blatant invitation.
“Have you thought of me often, brother?” he asks, even if he already knows the answer. He wants to hear it from Thor’s own mouth; to hear of how badly he desires him and needs him. “All this time we’ve been away from home?”
Thor comes forward to kneel over Loki’s thighs, tugging at himself roughly. There’s no finesse to it, no technique, just pure desperation in every pull.
“Every night,” he says pantingly. “Loki, I think of you constantly. Tonight, I could bear it no longer.”
Loki preens under his attention. He looks Thor in the eye, then very intentionally drags his half-lidded gaze from his face down to his cock.
“Goodness, brother. That must have been very, very hard.”
Seconds later, Thor finishes on his back with a tamped-down groan of relief. Hot spurts of come splash from the small of Loki’s back all the way up to his shoulder blades, making a mess of him in a way that feels most satisfying.
Loki laughs under his breath, awash with a pleasure-drunk sort of sensation. He cannot remember the last time he felt so calm. It’s a dangerous thing they’ve done tonight — there is a reason they very deliberately stay apart when they travel, the risk of being caught like this unthinkable — but in the afterglow it is difficult to feel regret at breaking their own rules by mutual agreement.
Thor clumsily cleans him off with some unfortunate item of clothing or other, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He stretches out alongside Loki, yawning, as Loki turns over onto his back to get comfortable.
“I am glad we will return home tomorrow,” Thor says.
Loki is thankful that they can return to Asgard at all, though he leaves such thoughts unspoken. In every fight, Thor strides onto the battlefield as though there is no universe in which they do not emerge victorious. He appears relentlessly optimistic that there is good and there is bad, that these things are easily distinguished, and that justice will prevail in all things.
He is so mightily brave, Loki thinks. He is so painfully naïve.
Loki knows that one day — not the when, or the how, but one day — there will be no victory. That fate will not always tip the balance in their favour, and no amount of willpower or Asgardian valour or grand sense of righteousness will change the outcome.
Thor cocks his head, bemused by Loki’s silence and searching gaze.
“Loki. Are y—”
“Hush,” Loki interrupts.
He places his palms to Thor’s cheeks, cupping his face with a tenderness he’d never dare try to express with words. Draws Thor down into a kiss he’s been anticipating for thirteen days and somewhat closer to fifteen hours, give or take, if he’d felt compelled to count them.
“I thought you said we couldn’t do this tonight?” Thor murmurs against his mouth, clearly amused. “I thought you’d have me wait for it.”
Turning to entwine the pair of them in a tangle of limbs beneath the blankets, Loki extinguishes the lantern with a flick of his fingers, plunging them into darkness in the hope that sleep might find them swiftly. Around them, everything is peaceful still.
“I also said you couldn’t stay here tonight, did I not?” Loki reminds him, drowsy and content. “My dear brother. Things change.”