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When the man opens the door, Thor is ready.
He swiftly pushes Loki inside without giving him time to react; the boy – man – falls to the ground while Thor goes in and shuts the door behind himself.
Loki, like the psycho bitch Thor knows he is, laughs, a cute giggle from where he lies at Thor's feet; “Oh, I missed you, too.”
Thor looks around. The flat isn't bad, quite spacious and with good forniture; the area, too, is one Thor wouldn't have guessed to find Loki in.
“I see you went through an upgrade,” he sneers. Loki props himself up a bit, on his elbows, and smiles.
He looks good, damn him. His black hair is even longer than when they were together, and he's wearing a dark green sweater and what could only be black leggins. They look like they were painted on, and Thor can admire the slender, strong legs with Loki sprawled like this. He looks like a king, even though Thor is basically towering over him. No sign of fear whatsoever.
He's crazy.
“Ah, yes, quite the change, don't you think?” Loki says pleasantly, then pointedly looks Thor from head to toe. “How was prison? Looks like it was easy peasy.”
Truth is, it wasn't that bad, once Thor proved the other inmates that messing with him would have been unwise; the worst things were the food, the thing that certainly couldn't have been called a bed, and not being able to smash Loki's face to the ground.
“Did you get some new tattoo?” Loki tries again when Thor just looks impassively at him. He's angry, yes, so angry, but he wants to make Loki squirm.
Inevitably, after some seconds with no response, Loki huffs and looks away, then smirks. “Well? Did you come here to just look at me? I could have sent you a picture.”
And just when the man starts to get up, Thor moves: he makes two steps and pins Loki to the ground with a foot pressed snugly against his throat.
“Oh,” and are his pupils blown already? He is so fucked up, and sadly Thor is no better; “this is the Thor I know and love.”
“You talk about love,” he grits through his teeth, “yet you have a funny way to demonstrate it.”
Loki is so relaxed under his shoe, whereas Thor feels so tight he could snap any minute.
“Aw, babe, but that doesn't make it any less true. I still love you, how could I not,” he pouts, and he's so cute even with his face red for the way Thor's foot started to put more pressure. His blood boils.
“So in love with me, that you stole my money and helped your new daddy put me behind bars, I see.”
Loki sighs. “Oh darling, if only there'd had been another way. I'm still heartbroken about that, can you imagine.”
“No,” Thor growls, “I fucking can't. The only person you give a damn about is yourself.”
Loki sighs, again. “I always knew that your trust issues would become a problem.”
“My trust issues?” Thor is honestly incredulous. The bullshit level is getting impressive. “My trust issues? Maybe you should look in a mirror.”
“But babe,” Loki insists, with an infuriating smirk, “how am I wrong, when I always trusted you to be the fool you proved to be?”
Thor snarls, and suddenly being so far away from Loki is not enough, he has to be closer, to punch and squeeze and spit on that face, so he bends down, a snarl on his lips, and Loki fucking takes him by the collar of his jacket to push him towards himself. Incomprehensibile, sick boy...
Thor finds him hard, and it ignates a fire inside of himself he can't even try to tame.
“I didn't came here to fuck,” he snarls, but still fingers find their way around Loki's throat, the other hand getting a feel of a buttock.
“You didn't?” breathes Loki, not even attempting to disguise how he's staring at Thor's lips with half lidden eyes. “And what did you come here for?”
Thor kisses him. He sort of attacks the other's mouth, savage and not at all gentle, feeling the pockets of Loki's sweater to look for some sort of weapon, knife or else, that thankfully isn't there. He isn't as naive to think that Loki wouldn't take advantage of the moment and try to grab some of Thor's weapons though, so he manages – with some sort of struggle because well, it's Loki – to pin the other's hands with the one that was wrapped around that long, pale neck, and his fingers miss it already. It had felt so right, so empowering, to put pressure on that pulse and feel it flutter, completely at Thor's mercy. Oh well. Maybe later.
For now, Thor pushes down the leggins and finds that underneath those Loki wears.. nothing. He shoots him a glare and Loki laughs, spreading his legs wider, but otherwise offering no words.
“Does your daddy not approve of underwear?” Thor grits out with a sneer. “Or maybe I should say grandpa, considering how old he is.”
Loki huffs out another breath of delighted laughter, the little shit. “Oh how I would like to hug you right now,” he says, amused, and the picture he makes, legs spread wide and arms over his head to accentuate his long, slim torso, is so good that Thor almost lets his hands go. Then he remembers what the situation is.
“Quit mocking me, Loki” he murmurs, a warning, “how would you like it if I ripped you open and left you for him to find?”
“Depends which part you intend to open,” is the lazy, drawled response, “you might find that I'm not as, ah, tight as you might have hoped.”
That does send a tingle of something deeply unpleasant down Thor's spine, and sure enough, when he presses the tip of his fingers to Loki's opening, he finds it already wide, stretched by what must be a plug.
Thor snarls, the thought finally getting to him in its reality, that Loki kept having sex without him, that someone else put their hands on him, somebody else heard his moans, his pleas, pounded him the way only Thor was supposed to...
When he roughly takes the plug out Loki hisses and then moans, his eyes ever calculating when Thor meets them.
“For the record,” he drawls as Thor is finally freeing his dick, “I don't call him daddy. He's more into sir, master, that kind of shit.” He manages to push himself up a bit to get as close to Thor's ear as he can to blow a “I haven't called anyone else like I called you, daddy.”
Thor shivers, for that hot breath, what has been just said, how smooth Loki's belly feels when he drags his cock on it. The amount of precome is already copious, and when he looks up, Loki's eyes have lost a bit of their scheming quality and are fixed on Thor's cock with a desire, a hunger Thor is smug to see has not changed.
“You want it?” he murmurs, and Loki's eyes snap to his again. “You want my cock?”
He doesn't add their usual baby, because Loki doesn't deserve it. Sure enough, he pouts a bit, whines a yes, daddy that is probably going to haunt Thor forever, but he stays put, he just drags the head of his cock on Loki's rim, making him pout even more.
“But why should I?” Loki's wrists twitch and he tightens his hold on them. “Why should I give you what you want, why should I hold you down and give it to you as hard as I can when I know you are just going to love it? Why should I give you a reward for being a whore, for taking my money, for my time in jail?” He squeezes even harder his wrists and a buttock, and he sees Loki wince, but still the black in his eyes far surpasses the green.
“Why should I call you baby,” he sneers, “when I should actually cut off your hands, or pull a trigger to your head?”
He does not have to wait for a response.
“Because you want me,” Loki breathes. “Because you have never met anyone like me. Because I made you love me, I made you take me in, I discovered all your secrets and I used your own business against you and all the while I was your baby, I was the best sex of your life and someone whom you could have a laugh with, and it doesn't scare you what I'm capable of, you are just angry because you don't want me to do it again, but you still want to keep me.”
There's a brief pause, then Loki adds softly, still looking into his eyes, “And I want to be kept.”
Thor blinks, surprised. “You lie,” he murmurs, because it's what Loki does, what he has always done the entire time they were together; except...
Except Loki is not meeting his eyes now and Thor is confused. Usually the man is so unapologetic and bold, this never happened before. Of course, it could still be an act.
“Loki,” he thunders, fingers tight around the other's flesh, and Loki winces, and backleashes, hissing and frowning and squirming, “That's right, you oaf, you heard me. Now will you get on with it, or do I have to bite your face off.”
He's still not looking at him. “Will you get on with it,” he repeats, but Thor doesn't think he can; it's not like his cock has softened – it rarely does around Loki, but he is stunned into silence by the sheer vulnerabilty in Loki's eyes, the purse of his lips, his heaving breaths.
“But why would I ever believe you,” he quietly asks, and at this, green eyes finally find his own again.
“I want to do to Thanos the exact thing I did to you. Only, with your aid, for our benefit. And it will be a thousand times worse. He owns..he owns so much, Thor.”
Thor actually lets him go, as if burned, but Loki remains in place, spread legs, arms above his head, everything.
Thor tries to be menacing, but his voice is a mere rasp, “You need to explain yourself.”
And Loki, with that talent for words, that mesmerazing voice, tells him how it was his plan all along, from when he understood how compatible they were, when he realized he was close to love: to make Thor fall in love with him in return, then betray him to access to a life connected to Thanos, a ruthless, cruel man with no morals and a business worth billions. And by doing so, securing their future together.
“We can bring him down, Thor,” Loki says, passionate, “You and I. I worked for it all this time, we are already close.”
“And then?” Thor asks, dumbfounded.
“We bring the entire thing down, and we run. We run the fuck away from this city, this state. We are going to be so fucking rich, and if any of those bastards search for us, no one will find us. We'll kill anyone who comes even close.”
“You are mad if you think it can be easy as that.”
But Loki actually thought about everything, and he isn't shy to inform Thor of every possibility, taking into account every risk, telling him about allies in various positions of power, all as thirsty as him to ruin Thanos and everything he stands for.
It is all true, Thor realizes. There's no way Loki is making it all up in the moment, there are far too many details, it's not hard to believe the entire thing has been in motion for a long time.
He feels awe, outrage, relief, bitterness. “Why didn't you talk to me about any of this,” he asks at last, and Loki shrugs. They are now sitting side by side, Loki hugging his legs to his chest, Thor still tense.
“You are great at what you do, don't get me wrong,” Loki answers, “but I needed the plan to go exactly as I thought, and you would have never handed me over to him to go to jail. No way, sweetie.”
His hands curl into tight fists, because it's true. Thor would have never, never let Loki go to that man willingly, even if it was all for a greater good.
Loki knows him so well.
They're suddenly kissing and there's a frantic edge to it; Thor needs some time to think it all over, but it's like a cloud has been lifted, and Loki is moaning already, trapping Thor between legs that are like a vice around his hips.
“How I need you to fuck me,” he whines, and Thor has squeezed his eyes shut to try and control himself, but it's useless: he snarls and grips him tight and growls, “Yeah? You need to be fucked good? He is not enough?”
“I despise him more than anything else on this fucking planet,” is the answer, and then there's a cackle, “even more than my fucking father, maybe.” They kiss again, and when Loki drags back, his eyes are firm, determined. “I've been waiting all this time for your cock to make me feel good again.”
What is Thor supposed to respond; his ego is undoubtedly pleased, and, on top of that, it is Loki who's demanding. He doesn't stand a chance.
He drags his lips over the pale expanse of Loki's neck and is not subtle about sniffing, wanting to bottle that familiar scent; nearly delirious with want, he breathes a “I will make you feel so good, give it to you so good,” then tugs at the jumper and bites down hard on a collarbone.
Loki – the sound he makes. It might as well be the most beautiful thing Thor has ever heard.
He lifts his hips so he can rub his crotch against Thor, and the action is allowed for few seconds before Thor sits up, leaving Loki whining.
He chuckles, and gods, does he sound fond, even though it feels like all the blood in his body has found its way to his cock, leaving him dizzy.
“You beautiful, wanton little thing,” he murmurs, admiring the view, “I want these clothes off of you.”
Loki smirks. “So you did miss me,” he says, lifting his arms so Thor can pull the sweater off.
He has a biting remark on his tongue, but what he sees steals his breath.
Loki is covered in bruises. Some are fading, many others seem relatively recent. There are so many of them, and the contrast they make against Loki's pale complexion – it doesn't agree with him. Those colours are not supposed to be on that body.
No matter what he came here for, Thor knows, he wouldn't have been able to do the same. Not to Loki. Sure, he was angry and came expecting a fight, some violence, too: Loki had betrayed him, sending Thor to jail with no money and a broken heart. But even Thor, a man capable of great violence, would have not stooped so low as to – to beat Loki up like this. He had expected to throw a punch, maybe. Loki kicking him, a slap or two, and, if he admits it with himself, some very wrong, very hot, very angry sex.
But not this. Not like this, never like this.
“Did he do this to you,” he whispers, too shocked to feel any real anger yet.
Wordlessly, Loki stands up and kicks his leggins down all the way. When they are discarded, he slowly makes a twirl and Thor's breath catches, taking note of all the other bruises scattered across his back, his legs, even his beautiful bottom.
Now that he is naked, it is also noticeable that he has lost quite a bit of weight.
Loki sends him a sardonic little smirk from behind his shoulder: “Quite regularly. If I'm lucky, he'll have his lap dogs do it for him. They all get quite a thrill from it, see.”
This is when rage kicks in.
“I'm going to fucking murder him,” he growls, and he knows he could because he has never felt like this. Loki betraying him was hurtful; knowing Thanos was the one with him, maddening; but this? Thor feels murderous indeed.
“Oh, babe,” Loki strides towards him with such grace, such elegance; his fingers find Thor's cheeks, but Thor is tense and stiff, jaw so tight it's a wonder his teeth are not cracking. “There's no need to kill him. You'll destroy him, and that will be even better.”
Thor grips those delicate wrists, fighting to breathe a little deeper with each inhale. Were this to happen in his youth, he would have broken something already, too quick to succumb to his temper to try and stop himself; but he just got Loki back (because yes, the evidence on his body is enough to convince Thor completely: Loki always liked it rough, didn't shy away from a bit of pain and gave back as good as he got, but Thor is certain he would never get off on it like this) and he doesn't want to make the situation even worse for him. He wants to make everything better.
“I'll destroy him,” he repeats, to convince himself that it's going to be enough, and Loki nods, encouraging. “I did know the risks when I decided all this, you know,” he says, “I did my research. Ultimately, it seemed like a little price to pay for our,” he smiles softly, thumbs catching on Thor's beard, “our future.”
Thor feels filled to the brim with emotion.
He stands up and kisses him, trying to put an order to all the things he's thinking, all that he is feeling; ultimately, he can only ask, “Is there a bed he hasn't fucked you on,” and Loki laughs, intertwining their hands and pulling him along. “No rough, hard sex on the floor?”
Perhaps later, when Thor has managed to make peace with the fact that Loki's body is littered with bruises, and not the kind Thor would give him.
The bed is not very big, nor is the guest room, but it doesn't matter; Loki throws a condom and lube on it and lies down while Thor takes off his own clothes, eyeing him hungrily, trying to get his mind off all that purple.
“Come here,” Loki murmurs, “I can't stand to have you that far a minute longer.”
So Thor goes. He slides between Loki's long legs, feeling with his hands as much as he can; the man's fingers find his hair as they kiss, and it's such a familiar feeling, Thor can't get enough: the sounds they make, how their tongues feel together, the way they respond with their whole bodies, trying to get closer, closer, closer.
Loki furiously sucks on his tongue when Thor's hands grip his asscheeks and pull them apart; a noise – a mewl – as a dry finger rubs his hole.
“I thought many times of taking you without lubrication, these months,” Thor admits, ashamed; his voice is rough as he remembers his rage, his desire to make Loki physically burn as he was mentally doing.
A kiss on the cheek, meant to comfort, and Loki nuzzles his jaw; “I would let you. I'd deserve it,” but Thor is already shaking his head, “No, baby. You don't.” The thought of doing it makes him shudder nonetheless, in a good, thrilled way, and Loki's gaze is heated, understanding; maybe another time, Thor thinks, when I don't feel as overwhelmed and I'll be able to care for him, find a way to do it as safely as possible. The fact that he can think about a time in an indefinite future makes it all the more pleasurable.
Now, though, Thor squeezes the lube on his fingers and rubs on Loki's hole again; the man moans, hair creating an ink halo around his pretty face, and Thor just has to kiss him again, and a finger becomes two, and when there are three of them in Loki the blond sits up to admire his boy, his baby, still so tight despite the plug.
“Gods, you are so pretty,” he says in a daze, and he distantly registers the fact that his voice is shaking a bit; Loki lowers his gaze so that his eyelashes fan across his cheeks, that little coy minx, and when Thor suddenly twists his fingers his back comes off the mattress and he takes in a surprised gasp, eyes wide, mouth in an alluring 'o' form. He chuckles then, panting, “You are very pretty too, my love.”
As soon as Thor takes out his fingers, the other man surprises him by turning their positions; Thor now lays on his back with, on his lap, a very smug Loki, who begins to move sinously, rubbing his cock on Thor, and it is deliciously maddening.
“So pretty,” Loki purrs on his ear, licking an obscene stripe from there to the corner of Thor's mouth, “prettiest daddy ever, all mine”. The blond just groans and takes that tongue between his eager, parted lips; Loki's hand, coated in lube, strokes his cock firmly and expertly for long and torturous seconds.
There is a moment in which everything stills; Thor panting softly, hands on Loki's hips, and Loki with his arms at his sides, just looking at each other. A heavy moment to adore and be adored, to recognize the importance of the situation and of what they're about to do. Their lips twitch and then they're smiling, and when Loki leans down Thor pushes himself up to meet him in a kiss that is softer than anything they've ever shared, maybe.
“Are you going to ride daddy, baby? Make it good?” Thor murmurs, and Loki smirks: “Going to give you the best ride of your life, daddy.”
Thor doesn't doubt it. They're silent as Loki lines up and takes Thor's cock in his hand to guide himself on top of it; when he sinks down, it's slow, it's torture, it's perfect.
By the time Loki's ass is fully resting on Thor's thighs, cock completely in, they're both breathing harshly; the raven haired man needs a few moments to adjust.
“Not even my detailed memory could give your cock justice,” Loki pants, caught in that unique mixture of pain and pleasure that is pure ecstasy. “So big, so thick. Gods, you're everything I dream about,” and as he speaks he begins to move, lifting his hips up and bringing them down, hands pawing at Thor's chest.
Thor – he finds it hard to breathe. His clever, mischievous, beautiful boy is hot and tight around him, and the feel of it combined with the sight of him bouncing, little whines escaping thin, pink lips, is overwhelming to the point that Thor has to close his eyes and try to control himself. The size and thickness of his cock would hardly be enough for Loki should Thor come not even a minute after they began.
Loki seems perfectly happy to keep doing all the work, now grinding breathlessly on him, but Thor knows his baby, knows he likes to be spoiled, and that is what finally gives him the strenght to open his eyes, grip hard on Loki's hips and forcefully snap his own up. Predictably, the cry Loki gives is reward enough; Thor keeps at it, gradually adding up speed and force to his thrusts, until Loki all but collapses on his chest, mouth open so that saliva ends up on Thor's shoulder and Thor adores him, adores him, wants everything from him.
He pulls out to reverse their positions again; he would love to have Loki lie on his front with his ass in the air as he has seen him so many times before, but that is yet again a view he has to postpone: right now, it's imperative that his baby's face be right in front of him, because he still hasn't looked his fill.
When he resumes his thrusts, Loki cries out and reaches up with his arms, circling them around Thor's neck and the blond complies, leaning on his forearms as he crushes his mouth to Loki's. His baby passively lets his tongue in, keeping his lips open but not participating in the kiss; Thor explores his mouth, voracious, then he has to catch his breath and they stay like this, breathing in each other's mouth. Loki makes these desperate sounds every time Thor hits his prostate, ah, ah, ah...
“Daddy,” he whines, and there are tears his eyes, “yeah, fuck...ah, yeah...” and he sobs and tries to move his hips, meeting him, so desperate that Thor feels nearly delirious as he thrusts even harder...
Loki comes with a noise that sounds almost painful, jolting up; it's not the first nor the tenth time he has come untouched, but the sight of him coming undone on Thor's cock alone after all this time is enough to inspire an awe in Thor that must surely show on his face.
The green eyes blink a few times and then Loki smiles lightly, happy and satisfied; Thor pulls out and frees his cock from the condom, knowing it won't take long.
“You're such a sweet thing,” he says roughly, stroking himself, and his baby's smile widens as he fingers at his own come on his belly; he raises his thumb and slips it into Thor's mouth, giving him a taste of the mess he made.
“Come for me, daddy,” Loki whispers as Thor groans and sucks the digit, “Daddy, I love you so.”
And then Thor is gone, coming on his baby, who makes soothing noises and caresses his hair.
A beat, and then: “We're going to the doctor first thing, and when he clears the way you're going to come in me.”
Thor can't help but laugh at Loki's bitter tone. He's sure that in a bit the anxiety, the anger, the doubt about whether they'll make it: it will all come back. No fucking – love making – is magical enough to solve all their problems. For the moment, though, he feels boneless, peaceful, lying uncerimoniously on their mixed come, in the arms of the man he loves as he always did, against all reasoning and with all his heart. Their problems will come back, but Thor is going to be stronger and ready to face them.
“Everything you want, baby,” he mumbles, “anything for you.”