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Thor catches Loki looking, just as Loki intended; the indolent sweep of his gaze was never meant to be subtle. The feast is merry and full of chatter, and much of Thor’s attention has been taken up by his friends tonight. It is of no concern to Loki, content enough to make small talk of his own with whomever piques his interest, Thor’s thigh a consistent comfort where it presses warmly against his own beneath the table. Later, Thor will be his and his alone.
“I know that look, brother,” Thor says, giving him a sidelong glance and leaning closer, lowering his voice. “You are making plans.”
The emphasis he places on the last word suggests he has at least guessed at the nature of Loki’s thoughts even if he cannot possibly know the specifics. Loki continues to regard him thoughtfully, the spark of heat in his gaze now hidden again. It is too dangerous here to be less than discreet.
“I am doing nothing of the sort,” Loki says flippantly.
He reaches for the carafe of wine that sits before them and generously tops up Thor’s goblet despite it being half-filled already; doesn’t stop until it is near-overflowing.
“If you intend on entertaining yourself through making a drunken fool of me,” Thor says, his eyes bright with amusement, “I suggest you try something other than this wine. I fear it is about as intoxicating as fruit juice.”
Loki is quite aware of that, having tasted it himself already. Idly shrugging one shoulder, he gives Thor an inscrutable smile and pushes the goblet closer to Thor’s hand. “I’m not trying to get you drunk,” he says simply.
Thor looks delightfully baffled. He acknowledges Loki’s statement with a doubtful hum, his expression flitting briefly to one of long-suffering affection before he turns once again to the Warriors Three to re-join their thread of conversation. He does however pick up his goblet, drinking from it after only a moment’s hesitation.
Perfect, Loki thinks, delicately sipping from his own chalice and helping himself to some food. No need to rush things.
***
“If I excuse myself to take a piss am I safe to do so, brother?” Thor asks him quietly some time later. “Or will I return to find snakes in my goblet and moss on my plate?”
Schooling his features into an expression of practised innocence, Loki places one hand over his heart and hopes he looks suitably astonished.
“First of all, I have done nothing whatsoever to warrant these vile accusations and have behaved impeccably tonight,” Loki says, conveniently ignoring the many, many occasions in their shared history where he has not. “Secondly, do not go to the bathroom. Go to my bedchambers and wait for me there. I’ll follow you along in a few minutes.”
Thor frowns. “But I really do need to -- ”
“Do you,” Loki interrupts, punctuating it with a weary-sounding sigh for good measure. “I suppose I could return to my chambers alone if you’d prefer to spend the night in an empty bed. You might try knocking later, but -- well. I doubt I’ll answer.”
The battle is won even before Loki finishes speaking, he can see it written plainly on Thor’s face. Nevertheless, Thor narrows his eyes and pretends to think on it. Loki smiles at him serenely.
“All right,” Thor says at last, shoulders sagging.
For a moment he looks as if he cannot quite decide whether he’d prefer to kiss Loki breathless or push him forcibly from his chair, amused but no less disappointed that neither are viable options at present. Getting to his feet, Thor makes his excuses and cheerfully bids everyone a good night, heading out of the dining hall shortly after.
For the next few minutes Loki resolves not to think about Thor in the slightest, nor indeed what he’s about to ask for for the first time in an age. He engages briefly in conversation here and there, just long enough to draw attention from their shared departure from the festivities.
Leaves as soon as he feels able, his heart pounding all the while.
***
“I think I have worked out what it is you want from me tonight, brother,” Thor says as Loki steps into his chambers. He is sprawled on Loki’s bed like he owns it, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed behind his head and looking remarkably pleased with himself.
“Have you?” Loki says, divesting himself of his boots and outer robes until he is left in nothing more than his leggings and fine tunic. “Clever boy.”
Thor, an odd sort whose loins stir for both praise and cutting sarcasm, beams at him.
Approaching the bed, Loki holds one hand out to Thor; he accepts it gracefully, offering his arm for support so Loki may climb deftly up onto the bed like a queen embarking her carriage. Immediately tugging Loki astride his lap, Thor gropes at Loki’s backside in a way that is hopelessly bad-mannered but nevertheless welcome, eager and wanting to an extent that never fails to make Loki’s pulse race. His mouth finds Loki’s after only a moment, kissing him deeply and with no lack of conviction.
“Mm. So,” Loki says upon their eventual parting, watching Thor’s face guardedly. “You know what it is I want. Does that mean that you intend to give it to me?”
“No, I think I know,” Thor teases. “I cannot be certain. I’d prefer that you speak plainly on what you desire from me.”
Loki gives him a pained look. Groans Thor’s name, verging on whining. Thor knows what he wants with absolute certainty, it is as clear as day. Knows also that there are no eloquent means by which to ask for it, no silver-softened way Loki’s tongue can spin this. He simply delights in making Loki squirm and oh, how Loki hates him.
“Why don’t you tell me, Loki,” Thor encourages him, unperturbed. “I cannot give you what you want unless you ask for it.”
Narrowing his eyes, Loki chews thoughtfully at his lip and considers how best to put it. He thinks back on how he had asked for it the last time, vague recollections of Thor being just as insufferable then, but it was long enough ago now that he cannot remember the specifics.
“I want your cock,” he says haughtily.
That part, at least, is easy. He has said far worse over breakfast without a glimmer of embarrassment.
“And?” Thor prods.
Exhaling softly, Loki presses closer, burying his face against Thor’s neck. He places a slow trail of kisses there, one after the other, lascivious and teasing. It is easier if he doesn’t have to look at him, if he can distract himself with the sweet-salt taste of Thor’s skin.
“I want you to fuck me. And to -- ,” he begins quietly, pausing to delicately clear his throat before he continues, “ -- to piss inside me when you do. I like it.” He takes a tremulous breath once the words are out, suddenly lightheaded.
Despite Loki burying his face more firmly against Thor’s collar and clinging to him like he could disappear entirely that way, Thor successfully peels Loki from him and takes his face in each of his big, warm hands.
“There,” he smiles, genuine and kind. “Was that so difficult?”
He strokes his thumbs carefully over Loki’s red-tinged cheeks as if he could soothe away his embarrassment by touch alone.
“Yes, actually,” Loki sulks, though it is impossible to remain irritated with Thor when showered with such affection. “Will you, though?”
Loki brushes his knuckles gently along Thor’s jawline, the stubble there rasping pleasantly against his skin.
“I will,” Thor says, kissing him sweetly. “Wait,” he adds, taking Loki by the chin and peering intently into his eyes. “Just -- you aren’t in your cups, are you? I know you most likely are not, but I have to be sure.”
“Not even remotely,” Loki scoffs, batting his hand away. “I drank the same piss-poor wine you did, and not half so much of it. Goodness knows which long-forgotten pantry the kitchens pulled that one out of, it was disgraceful.”
Thor is quiet for a moment. “Piss-poor?” he repeats thoughtfully. “An interesting choice of phrase, brother. What is it with you and p-- ow, stop hitting me, I yield! Loki, I yield!”
Loki ceases raining half-hearted blows upon Thor’s person, but Thor playfully seizes him by the wrists nonetheless. Eye contact unwavering, Thor lifts each hand to his lips in turn, placing gentle kisses to the sensitive insides of Loki’s wrists over his pulse points and yet more to the smooth ridges of Loki’s knuckles.
“You think yourself so charming,” Loki says, rolling his eyes as he is doted upon.
“Well, I think that is something we both have in common, don’t you?” Thor says brightly, his eyes creasing at the corners when he smiles.
“What,” Loki snorts at Thor’s poor attempts at flattery, “we both are charming, are we?”
“No,” Thor says kindly. “Both of us think that I am.”
Loki groans, putting his hand over Thor’s stupid, smiling mouth for a moment so he doesn’t have to listen to another word spill from it. With the other, he reaches under his pillow and pulls out a vial of oil.
“Ugh. Put your fingers in me before I truly grow tired of your nonsense.”
Grinning, Thor takes the vial from him, coating two fingers before tossing it aside. “Well, since you did ask so nicely and not at all like an unreasonable brat.”
Refusing to dignify that with a response, Loki tugs him into another kiss that is as exquisite as it is filthy. He makes no move to undress and Thor doesn’t push for it yet either; merely slips his hand under Loki’s tunic and down the back of his leggings to stroke over the pucker of his hole with a teasing lightness that makes Loki shiver.
It’s maddeningly good, even this: kissing Thor with a slow, burning intensity, Thor’s clever fingers idly toying with him. The angle isn’t ideal, preventing Thor from pushing deep, but it nevertheless feels incredible whenever Thor strokes at him, crooking his fingers where they’re tucked inside and rubbing teasingly at his rim with the tip of his thumb until Loki is left pliant and desperate for more.
Time slips away from them for an enjoyable stretch until Thor starts to shift restlessly, jostling Loki in his lap.
“Um,” Thor says, “might we move things along? I’m getting somewhat uncomfortable.”
Loki blinks at him dazedly, still speared open on two of Thor’s fingers. His cock throbs insistently within the confines of his clothing.
“Oh,” he says, “of course,” and lets Thor draw his hand free before getting to his feet and tugging Thor toward the bathroom.
He’d left the door propped open all evening so the heat from the bedroom’s fireplace could infuse the room properly with warmth, the wall’s torches lit sparsely to soften the lighting. Thor gives an appreciative hum as he looks around and Loki suddenly feels horribly exposed in his intentions.
“Why, Loki,” Thor says. “It’s almost as if you’ve been planning this all day. A romantic notion indeed.”
Loki shoves him away, shaking his head and trying not to smile. Stumbling slightly, Thor laughs and then reels him in, tugging Loki’s tunic off over his head. Loki mirrors his movements, pulling Thor’s off in turn and tossing it forgotten to the floor as he drinks in the sight of him. He cannot count how many thousands of times he has gazed upon his brother’s body and yet, somehow, it leaves him awestruck in every instance.
“Are you very desperate?” Loki says softly, dragging teasing fingertips down over Thor’s abs. When they reach the fine trail of hair leading down below Thor’s waistband he applies just a hint of pressure to Thor’s belly to make him gasp.
“I am,” Thor says, breathless. He tugs Loki impossibly close with an arm around Loki’s waist, their bodies pressed flush together. Loki has to lean back slightly to look at him, winding his arms around Thor’s neck, Thor’s hands gently supporting his weight. “Have I ever told you,” Thor says, “that I greatly admire the depths of your depravity? You are wondrously filthy, brother, and it pleases me so.”
“You tell me that all the time,” says Loki, delighted and determined not to blush. “The last time was but a fortnight ago, was it not? You begged me to come upon your face and were most complimentary when I did so.”
How lovely he had looked then, his upturned face a work of art in Loki’s hands.
“Ah, of course,” Thor says, his voice low and teasing. “Though, as I now recall, I may also have said as much to you just last week. I think my fist was inside you at the time.”
Smirking, winding his fingers into Thor’s hair, Loki brings their mouths together momentarily; drags Thor’s bottom lip tantalisingly between his teeth as they part.
“Mm. Well remembered, brother,” Loki says indulgently. “You did indeed tell me then.”
Taking Thor by the wrist, Loki leads him to the vast bath that occupies much of one corner of the room. Even for two people of their size its dimensions are enormous. He leaves it empty by preference, stepping inside with Thor in tow and swiftly removing their breeches with magic when he decides he is too impatient to do it by hand.
“Do you want to watch, first?” Thor asks.
He must already have guessed at the answer, for he pulls gently away from Loki’s grasp to sit on the bath’s edge. His legs are parted, a space made just for Loki between them, and even here he is impossibly confident in his own skin. Relaxed and effortless in his ability to hold Loki’s attention. Regal.
“I do,” Loki breathes, sinking to his knees beside one of Thor’s great, golden thighs.
Thor grips at the edge of the bath with one hand, the fingers of the other gently entangling in Loki’s hair.
Loki exhales, stroking a hand down Thor’s stomach until he reaches his cock where it stands at half-mast. He closes his fingers around it gently, making Thor’s breath hitch, and Loki can practically hear Thor willing himself not to get too hard lest it put a stop to things.
“Calm down,” Loki says dryly, and Thor merely laughs.
“I’m trying. Seeing you on your knees before me does make it rather difficult.”
Looking up at him through his lashes, Loki regards him placidly despite the butterfly-flutter feelings in his belly.
“You might try closing your eyes,” Loki says. “You dear, dim-witted fool.”
Shaking his head, Thor gives him a look of tender exasperation but does just that.
Pressing his mouth gently to Thor’s thigh for his cooperation, Loki angles Thor’s prick down slightly toward the bath’s base, away from himself and Thor’s feet. Here, Loki simply desires the feel of Thor’s cock in his hand and the chance to admire the way it looks. The intimacy of it.
Rubbing calming spirals onto Thor’s thigh with his other hand, Loki waits.
It takes a few moments, but Loki feels it coming just before Thor releases the first stream onto the bath’s floor with a quiet grunt of relief. Thor’s fingers flex against the side of the bath and in Loki’s hair where he’s still holding him. It only lasts a moment and then he pauses, but the next time he pisses for longer, a steady torrent.
Loki watches him, enjoying the weight of Thor’s cock against his palm and the soft, velvety warmth of his skin. Runs his thumb over the head, watching the slit flex as Thor stops himself mid-flow again; he is clearly mindful that this isn’t all Loki wants tonight.
Sometimes, on the rare occasions they both find some reserve of patience within them to take things slow, Loki likes to spread Thor out upon his bed for an hour or more in order to relentlessly tease every part of him except his cock. He likes -- they both like -- to wait until Thor is so desperate that his cock leaks copiously, precome trickling from the flushed head to gloss the shaft and pool in his navel. Watching Thor’s cock drip now reminds Loki of those times, the gleaming, messy, carnal sight of it enough to make his stomach clench with want.
When he looks up at Thor he’s opened his eyes again, the blue of them vibrant against the dark expanse of his pupils. His cheeks are pink, and he regards Loki with no small amount of heat in his expression.
“Would you have me spill the rest inside you, brother?” Thor asks him, his fingernails raking so pleasantly over Loki’s scalp that Loki sways slightly on his knees.
Loki thinks it is probably evident already how badly he wants it; even more obvious now in the way his breath catches at Thor’s words, cock straining. He’s so hard it hurts.
“Yes. I would,” Loki breathes.
Thor untangles his fingers from Loki’s hair and Loki moves to face the side of the bath, up on his knees with his arms resting on the edge for support. Thor fits himself up behind him, tense with the need to find release -- to piss, to come -- and the fact he is willing to fuck everything he has up inside Loki where he wants it most, clearly restraining himself and restless with banked desperation, only makes Loki harder.
A moment later Loki hears Thor spit into his palm, a sound he’s become so conditioned to that he finds himself actually shaking somewhat with adrenaline-fueled anticipation in the few heartbeats that pass between the abrupt, slick sound of it and the feel of Thor finally pressing the spit-wet head of his cock to his hole. Thor’s earlier ministrations along with the fact that he’s not quite fully hard mean it isn’t overly difficult to take him into the hilt on the first try; Thor pushes in slowly, his breath hot against the nape of Loki’s neck, and then rocks back until he’s sheathed only halfway inside.
“You might have to give me a moment,” Thor admits with a breath of laughter against Loki’s ear. His hands are warm and steadying at Loki’s waist.
Loki lazily tips his head back onto Thor’s shoulder. “Mm. Take your time,” he sighs, the waiting alone a perfect tease.
He cannot help the quiet, whimpering sound he makes when Thor finally lets go, splashing hot and wet inside him. Groaning, Thor pushes deeper; tightens his hold on Loki’s waist as he pisses inside him long and hard, filling him until it leaks out where their bodies meet.
It feels so good and so filthy that it’s difficult for Loki to think at all. Whether it’s this, or the times Thor fucks him thoroughly and repeatedly until Loki is tender and dripping with come and Thor’s cock finally comes dry, Loki cannot get enough of Thor filling him up, emptying himself inside. He aches for it, needs it, however much Thor can give.
Thor exhales a quiet sigh of relief as he finishes, beginning to move his hips in shallow pulses. His cock thickens and fills out, fully hard in little time at all now that he no longer has to hold back. He moves in Loki so easily, everything slippery and ludicrously wet; Loki arches his back, tilting his hips to take him deeper.
“Fuck,” Loki murmurs as Thor drives up inside him and then pulls out entirely in one smooth motion.
Wet gushes down Loki’s thighs, making him shudder. His cock jerks in response, a hot flush of arousal creeping across his neck and chest.
Thor makes a quiet, desperate sound behind him at the sight of it, hauling Loki back with an arm around his waist until he’s on his hands and knees before pushing back inside him vigorously enough that Loki sees stars. He ruts into Loki with long, languid strokes, a broad hand spanning the small of Loki’s back. It isn’t doing anything, merely a warm weight resting there, but it could; it is all too easy to imagine Thor pressing him down with more force, holding him in place whilst he fucks him open, and the mere thought of it makes Loki dizzy.
Unthinking, Loki lets his knees slide further apart, acting entirely on reflex. Thor grips at his hips, rides him harder. Loki cannot help the choked sob of pleasure he makes in response, biting at his lip too late to quieten it; his cock twitches and taps slickly against his belly, drooling a sticky pulse of precome all the way down to the bath’s base.
“Norns, Loki. You feel so fucking good,” Thor growls, hammering into him with ruthless urgency. “Can you come, just like this?”
Loki is near-certain he can, most of the way there already. He wants to grind his cock against something, desperate for friction, but there’s an intensity that comes with the rarity of spilling from nothing more than Thor’s cock inside him that overrides Loki’s temptation to simply take himself in hand.
“I think -- ah -- yes, I gods -- ” Loki groans, long past the point of speaking in full, intelligible sentences. Thor will know what he means, he has no doubt.
Pleasure builds upon itself, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust until finally Loki is sent over the edge with a shuddering gasp. Collapsing onto his elbows, his cock jolts hard as he comes untouched, spattering wetly against the bath’s surface and his own stomach in a series of pulses.
Sounding entirely undone by it, Thor holds him down and grinds into him unerringly until Loki is a whimpering, pleasure-drunk mess, then pulls out to strip his own cock with his hand at a brutal pace.
“You’d better fucking come in me,” Loki pants, pushing himself unsteadily back up onto his hands. He shivers with a belated aftershock and drops his head low as Thor draws his thumb over Loki’s wet, well-used hole. “Thor, fuck.”
“I am, you demanding creature,” Thor says, his voice gloriously roughened with sex. He could talk like that for an eternity and Loki would never tire of the deep, rumbling timbre of it.
For a moment, all Loki can hear is the slick sound of Thor’s hand working over himself, but then Thor’s breath catches sharply, his hands fumbling and brushing against Loki’s backside. Thor’s cock is already flexing and spilling as he slips back inside Loki’s body with a bitten-back groan, fucking his spend deep in a jerking, uneven rhythm until their bodies are spent and neither can bear the overwhelming friction any longer.
Breathless and shaky, Thor gradually slows to an eventual stop. Slips out wetly, pressing his lips to Loki’s shoulder as he does so.
Loki turns to slump back against the side of the bath; his muscles are stiff after spending too long in one position yet his body in its entirety still feels loose and uncoordinated so soon after his orgasm. Kneeling before him, Thor rubs his hands gently over Loki’s reddened knees; bends to kiss each of them in turn where they’re tender and beginning to bruise.
“I feel like this is always somewhat less erotic after the fact,” Loki admits.
He wrinkles his nose at the feeling of wetness cooling on his skin, the scent of it, the bath’s surface still hard and unforgiving beneath them. It’s so much easier to look naked and alluring spread out on fine linens than when sprawled in an empty tub awkwardly chewing one’s thumbnail.
“Nonsense,” Thor tells him. “Everything you do is arousing beyond comprehension. It’s very distracting and then we end up doing ridiculous things together.”
Sometimes, Thor says things so encouraging and lovely that he leaves Loki speechless. Loki won’t admit to it outright, but he is certain Thor knows it all the same.
“Come here,” Loki says, drawing Thor close and gently smoothing his hair from his face before kissing him soundly. “Mm, shall we rinse the bath and then head to the shower instead? You could wash my hair for me tonight, brother, you’re ever so good at it.”
“You are so spoiled,” Thor sighs fondly. He looks upon him like it is one of Loki’s finest achievements, and as though he himself is not directly responsible.
“Well, if you will insist on indulging me,” Loki says, preening.
“I do,” Thor smiles, pressing a kiss to Loki’s forehead and taking him by the hand. “I do insist, brother, and I think you will find that there is nothing you can do to stop me.”