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Running. Spear in hand, sword at belt. Dark firs all around. A dusting of snow on the ground. Only the light of an early waxing moon to guide their way. The potent tea served to him before their departure left the scenery tinged with a curious haze, sharpening and enhancing the senses. Loki’s peripherals were blocked by the wolf pelt covering the top half of his head, but he could sense everything around him, could feel each movement of the men on all sides. They growled and rough-housed as they ran barefoot in the dark, moonglow glinting off shields and bared teeth. They felt neither cold nor pain, his brothers in arms. And soon enough, his lovers.
Their party mounted a thickly wooded ridge and soon came upon the once-picturesque town perched high in the mountainous outskirts of Vanaheim. It had been held hostage by the well-paid militia of a disgraced Asgardian jarl turned realm-hopping warlord. Children had been slaughtered, women attacked by drunken soldiers. Men burnt alive for trying to defend their homes. Njörd and Freyr had appealed to Asgard, and Odin had sealed the nobleman’s fate.
Swiftly they descended, the silence of the village giving way to a din of horrific howls and battle cries as they caught the rebel night watch unprepared.
Loki hefted his spear and let it fly, piercing the chest of an archer atop the lookout post. Leapt up and climbed the wooden structure with his bare hands and feet. The second guard panicked, tried to slash at him with a clumsy broadsword— he broke the man’s neck with barely a thought, then retrieved the spear from the first guard’s sternum, a quick mercy stroke with his sword to end the man’s guttering choking on his own blood.
Then a great leap to a nearby rooftop, following the other berserkers as they moved over the tops of dwellings and halls toward the temple to Freyr claimed by the militia as their outpost. Several of Odin’s chosen rampaged through the streets below, brutally slaughtering any warriors who would oppose them.
Chaos at the temple, blood spraying in graceful arcs on all sides. The stench and the howls grew heightened by his augmented senses, the clamor of swords and screams of the men being felled by such terrifying death-dealers only adding to his passion.
Loki threw caution to the wind and summoned his favorite daggers, whirling and pivoting as he slashed through the fray. A smooth thrust that opened a rib cage as easily as a book, viscera spilling like ink from the pages. A gash that left a man smiling from the throat. He moved as if in a trance, feeling only ecstasy as his body was propelled by instinct, his thoughts a jumble of satisfied bliss, and gleeful malice. Mine to slay, mine to punish, mine to protect blurring into ours to defend, ours to vanquish, ours to slaughter.
They found the nobleman hiding in an alcove, hands trembling as he tried to grind henbane seeds in a mortar, too little too late. A berserker smashed it from his hand and Loki quickly scavenged the seeds, vanishing them with clever hands. A little treat for later.
The noble was strung up naked above the stone entrance to the temple and the berserk warriors bit their shields and howled, took turns shooting lit arrows at him with bows pilfered from his slaughtered men. His screams echoed into the heavy night.
Just before the noble died, they cut him down and slit great gashes down his spine, wrenching his rib cage up and out through the back. Left him a spasming heap on the ground at the temple doors.
Odin’s blood eagle. The mark of their victory.
Their work finished, they retreated as one mass back into the darkness of the forest, like roaches scurrying away from the light. Ran as swift as they’d come through the trees, over streams, under the tall looming peaks and stars winking in the near-black. Once they’d reached their encampment, the men gathered in near silence, bristling like a pack of wary dogs as they waited impatiently for everyone to be counted. Loki thought he might vibrate out of his skin with the tension of it all, his heart still pounding, his senses overpowered with adrenaline.
But the glowing light of the Bifrost was not long in coming, and that familiar pull in his navel and behind his eyes had never struck Loki so powerfully.
When the kaleidoscopic blur had dissipated, they were standing once more in front of the great hall of the berserker stronghold, high up in the far more familiar mountains of Asgard, well away from the prying eyes of the capital city. The moons glowed every bit as bright here and the night was clear, the air fresh with alpine fragrance. Anticipation welled in Loki's chest as the other men began to strike up conversation, trading barbs and jibes and harsh laughter as they made for the washing basins near the entrance, splashing themselves and giving their hair a cursory wash. They would make for the bathing halls later, but there was other business to see to first.
Loki slipped quietly through their ranks into the hall, seeking the great stone fire pit at the center. He swiftly threw on more wood and coaxed the banked embers to blaze and crackle, flicking the henbane seeds upon the growing flames. Watching with satisfaction as they began to pop and hiss. They would serve his purposes well tonight.
The warriors trailed in behind him, divesting their weapons and pelts with a clatter, dripping red water onto the stone floor and scrubbing drying, bloody hands through their long, messy hair. A tension grew thick in the hall, pheromones heavy in the air. It was always thus— every man waiting to see who would break first. Eyes dilated, nostrils flaring, cocks half-hard. Eyeing each other up. Tonguing at teeth. Sneering. Teasing. Posturing for dominance.
Loki paid them no mind just yet, still tending to the fire. He was so entranced by the vapors which arose— the heady stupor of the henbane making him feel airy and light, mingling with his adrenaline and the lingering effects of the mushroom tea— that it took him a moment to realize a tall, broad-shouldered berserker had approached.
The man inhaled the smoke with a grin of approval, eyes gleaming under thick, sharply angled brows. His muscular torso was still splattered with drying blood. Rivulets streaked down his darkly furred stomach, disappearing into the cropped curls framing his thick cock.
Loki rose from where he’d crouched on the floor, an answering grin upon his own lips.
“Well met,” said the man. “A warrior and a shaman both. You’ll have to tell us what you foresee for tonight’s celebrations.”
“Would have been a shame to waste such potent herb,” Loki replied, slipping his borrowed pelt from his bare shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, careless of where it might land. “Though I don’t imagine I will need it to make my predictions.”
He glanced down, saw that his new companion was already growing hard, idly palming his swelling cock. Gods, that thing was enormous; the man was hung like a stallion. Loki’s mouth watered, and his own cock couldn't help but respond.
“Indeed,” said the man, letting his eyes roam freely over Loki’s bared physique in turn. Loki had altered his natural coloration— now blue-eyed with waves of dark golden hair that brushed the nape of his neck. Just a little fun, to make himself look more like his brother. But he hadn’t altered his features, nor the shape of his body— toned and fit though hr was, he was still notably more lithe than most of the men present. He took a shaky little breath as he was thoroughly raked over. The danger of being exposed was yet another heady aphrodisiac.
The Berserk seemed to take his sudden nerves for trepidation of another sort. “No need to be coy,” he chided, striding closer and reaching out to grasp one of Loki’s hips in a large, calloused hand. “For that would also be a waste.”
For once, Loki had no clever retort, just let himself be drawn into a heated kiss— the other man so tall that he had to tilt his head upward. Loki felt the henbane vapors all but lifting him from the ground, the sensation of that silky-rough beard every bit as mesmerizing as the slip of the hot tongue against his.
A friendly jeer broke out close by, and Loki felt a firm smack to his left buttock from an interested third party, then a body pressing close behind to bite at his neck, sliding a hot erection against his cleft without preamble. The tall man he was kissing pulled away just long enough to spit into his own palm, then wrapped Loki’s cock and his own in a gigantic fist. Loki moaned into his mouth as he worked their shafts together. A cool, slick finger replaced the cock at his backside, seeking entrance.
Loki became suddenly aware of other grunts and voices and harsh breathing coming from further in the lodge, all with a strange, faraway musical quality. Found himself floating in a haze of lust and delirium, tethered only by teeth and tongues and invading fingers.
The first man pulled back from their lengthy kiss as the unseen one behind him pressed forward. Loki gave a hurt, eager sound as thick fingers found their prize deep inside him, with little care for breaking him in gently. The rough treatment suited his mood just fine. The first man grinned down at him as Loki fell forward against his chest, head spinning, being fingered now in earnest.
“Such a mouth on you,” the large man murmured, hand splaying down over Loki’s lips and jaw. Loki met his eyes with effort as he tried to right himself, his entire body burning as he sucked two of the offered digits, tasting iron. Both men's fingers filling him, seeking inside of him. The tall man in front of him growled in satisfaction, giving Loki’s cock another rough jerk.
Loki was so pleasantly immersed in sensation that he barely realized what was happening as a third man ran his hand up Loki’s flank and drew his face aside, coaxed him into a brief kiss. The first man suddenly grasped him by the buttocks and lifted him up and away, encouraging Loki to wrap his legs around him, exposing his entrance further to the other man behind him. Loki’s cock slid against the first man’s and he ground forward, seeking more friction. He was rewarded with a ferociously deep kiss, those muscular arms and hands gripping him tight. Clearly sending the message to any interlopers that Loki’s front had been claimed for his own.
It was then Loki realized the fingers inside him had been replaced by a slick tongue, accompanied by the brush of a tantalizingly soft beard.
He moaned like a harlot into the mouth he was kissing as the second man’s tongue circled his entrance, dipping inside teasingly before properly fucking into him. Loki found his hips rocking of their own accord, both towards the hard body in front of him and against the tongue behind. He could barely breathe between them, overwhelmed at the feel of being held aloft against a strong, hard body while those muscular fingers splayed him open for the man behind him.
Time passed in strange fashion within this heady state. It seemed to Loki he hung suspended between them being dually plundered for an aeon, before he suddenly found himself being carried towards a vacant spot on a long bench occupied by many others.
“I had him first,” his greedy handler growled, setting Loki down and posing him on his hands and knees before settling behind him, thick cock pressed against Loki’s cleft. “You’ll get your shot.”
“I opened him up,” countered a new voice— the man who’d been tonguing him mere moments ago. Loki couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, but he felt the need to interject.
“I have a perfectly good mouth,” he reminded them, though his voice sounded faraway to his own ears, and he couldn't be exactly sure who or what to look at. All he knew is he wanted their hands back on him and in him.
Thankfully, that seemed to settle it. He found his jaw being guided toward a prick longer and thinner than the one belonging to the first man. All perfectly enticing. An upwards glance registered a firm body with an appealing amount of belly, but he couldn’t be sure of much else with his addled vision in the firelight.
“Open up, lad,” the man who’d tongue-fucked him said, and Loki wasted no time swallowing him down to the root, feeling the man’s lusty moan as strongly as he did the hands fisting in his hair. Then immediately choked as the man pushed him harder onto his cock. It had been some time since he’d done this, but immediately his body responded with the urge for more; to be used completely and thoroughly. Loki pulled back for a moment to catch his breath before gathering himself and letting the man thrust into his throat, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.
“Ah, this one’s good for the roasting,” came the voice of the first man behind him, who was alternating between fingering Loki and sliding his tongue inside him, trying to work him looser. Loki groaned around the cock in his mouth, feeling someone's thick hand wrap around his own cock from behind. Oh Norns, it was so much already and he needed more— so much more.
Two broad hands spread him open, a thumb slipping inside him for a moment before the man spit on him. A sudden wash of humiliation came over Loki— the kind that made him squirm and writhe in terrible pleasure. Gods, he wanted more. The man in front of him pulled back to rub his cock against Loki’s cheek and Loki mouthed, licked at it, thick saliva dripping down his chin.
“He’s gagging for it,” the man in front of him was amused, holding him by his wet chin as he smacked Loki's cheek a few times, first with a palm, then again with his cock. Just hard enough to tease, to get Loki's tongue lolling as he sought the man's cock with his mouth, needing to suck him and taste his precome, only to be given several fingers instead.
“He’s about to be screaming for it,” the man behind him growled, and true to his word, Loki gave a sharp cry around his mouthful as the blunt head of the man’s cock slipped inside him. Oh fuck, oh fuck it was so tight, so overwhelming. The man gave no quarter as he pressed forward. He had soon seated himself fully within Loki, only pausing for a moment to let Loki adjust before setting a steady, driving pace. The sounds escaping him were so high-pitched and strangled, Loki barely realized he was making them. He turned in a daze to watch the man fucking him, the sight of those giant hands on his hips making him achingly hard.
Loki’s face was soon guided back towards the cock awaiting him— only it had been joined by another, even greater in girth, and he licked and sucked at them both, gasping and sighing all the while as they took their turns with his mouth.
Suddenly, a searing bolt of pleasure ripped through him as the man fucking him changed position, and Loki howled. A hand reached beneath him to jerk his cock and Loki could feel how wet he’d become, cock dripping like an eager quim.
The man behind him was pounding away, hitting his most pleasurable spot each time and sending electricity up his spine. A cock pressed into his mouth and forced its way down his throat once more, and Loki gagged and felt the hot slip of tears down his cheeks. The man was soon fucking his throat in earnest, and someone was squeezing his cock in a slick hand, and all the while the glorious man behind him did not let up, hips snapping hard enough to bruise against his arse. Loki was dizzy from the lack of air, from the overwhelming sensations of being squeezed and pinched and slapped and fucked in every hole.
“Ah fuck, look at your pretty little mouth,” came the praise from above him. “Ngh, you little cockslut, that’s right. Take it down.” Loki gagged when he tried to whimper, almost orgasmed from that alone.
“You like that, huh? Hearing how pretty you are,” came the voice again, oddly soothing in contrast to the hand tangled in his hair, forcing him to take the thick member all the way to the base. “I want to come down your throat but mm, I’m saving it for your tight little arse.”
A final press and then the man released him again, and Loki heaved deep breaths as his abused throat tried to remember how to swallow, thick drool escaping the corners of his mouth. “Ah there he is, come look at this one, he’s ready for more. Fuck his mouth,” and then a new cock against his cheek— only this one just wanted licking and skillful sucking, for the moment.
Suddenly, Loki's attention was drawn back to his arse— the man fucking him had slowed down and seemed to be drawing it out, staving off his orgasm. A thumb slipped inside him next to the thick prick already occupying him, and the man spat on his entrance again. Loki gave a full body shiver, breaking out in gooseflesh despite the heat of the fire, his hands and knees nearly buckling.
The hand on his erection suddenly turned into a mouth, and Loki pulled away from the cock in his own mouth and groaned, long and hoarse, as his aching, dripping prick was licked clean and then some. He was quickly urged to resume his ministrations, and the man in front of him (whoever it was, he’d long lost count) chuckled at his debauchery.
“They’re really giving it to you good, aren’t they? You want to come so bad, I can see it.” A hand stroked through his hair before pulling on the strands tight enough to make Loki shiver and moan and wince in pain. “Sweet little thing like you, bet you can go again and again. Bet you’d like to be taken by the two of us, stuffed so full you can barely breathe.”
Loki’s eyes all but rolled back in his head as the man fucking him hit his prostate hard, grinding his hips forward to prolong the torture. He was being drowned in a deluge of arousal, his cock having been abandoned again and now begging for attention, balls tight and aching. Other hands were squeezing his chest, his nipples, smacking his ass, tugging his hair. He heard a low groan and felt the warm spurt of come across his lower back, and then someone held him still by the hair and painted his face with even more, but he still had one cock in his mouth and another in his arse, vigorously pounding away until his thighs shook with it.
There were so many hands and voices he couldn't keep track of how many men were touching him, yet none would stroke him off, and he was getting beyond desperate to reach what would hopefully be his first orgasm of the night. Loki managed to pull back from the cock invading his throat long enough to whine, "please." He didn't know to whom he spoke, just begged to anyone who would listen; his voice hoarse, his face dripping with come. “Please let me. I need it, so bad.”
Laughter from both ends, many voices now. “Ahh, you hear that? He’s begging to come.” “He’s dripping, the little whore.” “You gonna let him?” “Bor’s blood, he looks tight as a virgin.” “He’ll follow orders, he’s a good lad.”
“Please,” Loki rasped, gasping with each brush of his prostate. “Fuck— nggh!” He was suddenly being pulled up higher, plowed impossibly even harder than before, barely able to keep himself balanced. A mouth resumed its work on his cock, skillfully keeping time with the man behind him, and Loki teetered on the precipice, shaking and panting.
“Swallow me and you can come when I do."
And then his mouth was full of cock again and he was licking and sucking and dribbling saliva like his life depended on it, being railed hard enough to bruise his insides, that glorious thick cock hitting that perfect spot inside of him, and there was a delicious suction on his own aching prick and Loki’s eyes rolled back and he saw shades of white he never knew existed as he came, hard, into an eager mouth.
The man he was sucking off gave a groan and pushed his face down until Loki could feel his cock pulsing, unloading down his throat before pulling back to give him a proper mouthful.
Loki gagged but eagerly swallowed it all down, heaving a great breath once his face was released. Whoever had been sucking him off was gone, and the man behind him gave a few more powerful thrusts before groaning and following them over the edge, spilling hotly inside in several powerful waves before pulling out to let his seed decorate Loki’s buttocks.
Loki whimpered at the sudden loss of fullness, dropping with shaking limbs to the bench. He was shuddering with adrenaline and the aftershocks of his orgasm, senses swimming. He felt come dripping from within him, slicking the bench, but couldn’t be bothered to care— especially not when it gave him such a deep thrill of humiliation and arousal. The man who had been fucking him sat down heavily next to him, rubbing a hand over his flank and smearing his own spend all over Loki's skin, presumably admiring his handiwork.
“You took that like a champion,” he half-teased. Loki turned to smirk at him, coughing slightly before swallowing.
“Would have been a shame to waste any,” he replied, hoarse, and the man laughed in delight upon hearing the state of his voice.
“Well, you were not shamed this day. I think you’ve earned yourself a moment’s rest.”
“Only a moment,” Loki agreed, somewhat woozily, allowing himself the luxury of relaxing against that thick, broad form. Normally, he would never slouch so. Never observe anything but princely posture when in the presence of subjects. But he wasn’t a prince here, and besides— his brother in arms was right. He’d certainly taken enough cock to have earned himself a little break.
He was welcomed with a heavy arm around his shoulders. Soothed by that broad, warm presence, Loki allowed his attention to wander from the men in his direct vicinity, sweeping his gaze over the room. So many pounding hips and straining thighs and tightening abdomens... thick arms and beards and cocks... so many delicious arrangements of warriors in all states of fucking… it was truly a feast for the senses. Come and sweat hung thick in the air, even through the henbane vapor. Clinging to his mouth and nostrils.
Gods, this is what he’d craved all these years, only ever getting a brief taste on the training yards, in the baths. He only wished he’d managed to sneak off to their camp sooner…
“Aye, he looks ready for round two,” a rough, unfamiliar voice broke through his reverie.
Without warning, Loki was hoisted and flipped onto his back, and then someone was being positioned over top of him, head facing Loki’s feet. Another slimmer, younger man with a lean build like himself. At any other time, he would protest the presumptuous treatment, but here… Loki knew that whatever he was about to be used for, he wanted it.
The younger man’s cock was nudged into Loki’s mouth, and his own was swallowed in turn. Then he felt the slick of another’s tongue on his open, sensitive hole, licking in and all around him, tasting the come dripping from him. It was impossible not to moan around the cock in his mouth, the soft, almost comforting weight of the other man’s sac resting against the bridge of his nose. Gods, he smelled good. Loki wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that state, lost to it entirely as he swallowed and sucked, gripping the man’s thighs and trying to get as much cock down his throat as possible.
Breaking through the haze came the sudden chill of fresh oil on his arse. Large fingers bullied inside him once more— first two, then what felt like at least three, oh gods, maybe four— and Loki writhed and bucked, feeling the man above him choking on his cock. It felt good, so he planted his feet and did it again; a hot wet throat gagging on him and thick fingers splitting him open all the while, stroking his sensitized insides until he quivered.
“Think he’s ready,” floated a voice thick with lust, and then Loki was moving again; the young man atop him disappearing, and then he was being lifted up, followed by a hard body being positioned beneath him. He felt weightless, almost frighteningly without anchor, but he shouldn’t have worried— the man beneath him was soon grasping his hips, rutting up into him and filling him up from behind— and then before he could think, his legs were being opened, splayed even wider, and a second cock was lining itself at his entrance.
The very first man to approach him that night— the one who had already come inside him once— grinned down at him with those thick brows and piercing eyes, sweat sticking dark curls to his forehead. “You will remember this day for centuries to come,” he promised as he slowly, intently slid his oil-slicked cock into Loki’s already plundered arse. Loki too late realized what was happening and clenched in panic, for he’d never taken two cocks at once, but the big man soothed his brow.
“Try to push us out, it will go easier.”
Loki couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, his entire world coming to a juddering halt as the two cocks began slowly, slowly moving inside him, finding a rhythm and alternating strokes, the man on top doing the lion’s share of the work. He had never felt such an excruciating pleasure, such a terrible fullness and delicious shame and oh, he needed it so badly to end and never wanted it to stop. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or sobbing or altogether silent— every moment, a different sensation seemed to bludgeon him, overwhelming his senses.
“Easy, boy. Easy… you’re taking us so well, mmm. Bor’s blood, you feel so good,” came the praise from the man above him, echoed by the grunts of the man below— “Aye, take those cocks, sweetheart. Just like that.”
Loki’s skin felt too hot and too cold, he felt like his mind might actually rend clean from his body as he was split in two, and then the man above him gave a great roar and fucked him with even greater abandon, and Loki shrieked and howled bloody murder while the man below him grabbed him by the cock and squeezed hard, a hint of nail pressing into his sensitive flesh, and Loki was orgasming harder than he ever had in his eight and a half centuries, screaming silently because his voice was now completely gone, and his pleasure seemed to go on forever until he felt the men inside him spill into his guts, their mixed seed leaking from him as they gave their final, shuddering thrusts.
He was lost. Adrift in a white, warm haze, eyes barely open. A hot tongue licked his semen from his taut, trembling stomach and chest. The man above him withdrew, and then he was rolled to the side and caught by strong arms, holding him up against a broad chest as his knees shuddered and refused to take his weight, and warm come once again dripped down his thighs from his aching, throbbing hole.
After a few moments, Loki realized it must be the first man who was holding him and stroking his sweaty hair, keeping him upright while the other man who’d taken part of their menage vacated. His bleary eyes could just make out the piles of debauched men around them, but he could barely register any of it.
“You going to make it, lad?” The man holding him asked, lowering him slowly back down to straddle the bench. He settled at Loki’s back, thick thighs on either side of him. “I think you actually saw the gates of Valhalla for a moment.”
Loki snorted, head lolling in amusement back against the man’s chest. “Ahhhh,” he managed to just barely speak, voice barely more than a whisper. “Mm.”
“What’s this? Did we silence the infamous silver tongue?” The man jested low into his ear. Loki frowned, wondering why that didn't seem quite right.. and after a long, delayed moment of confusion, panic finally set in.
Loki stiffened as much as possible in his languid, fucked-out state, struggling to sit up. The man easily held him in place, laughing at him.
“Don’t worry, my Prince,” he murmured, lips brushing Loki’s ear. “You think we don’t all have our secrets here?” He ran his hand down Loki’s chest to stroke gently at his nipples, eliciting a hiss as they tightened, before running thick, sticky fingers over Loki’s inner thighs.
Despite himself, Loki felt his cock already stirring once more. Bloody aphrodisiacs still in his system, making him weak. “What do you want,” he whispered, nearly resigned to the blackmail soon to follow. Fool. Absolute fool he was, blinded by his lust and his pride, his certainty in his illusory abilities. Norns curse him. He blinked furiously against the tears that suddenly pricked at his eyes.
But the man just chuckled, a low rumble that warmed Loki’s ribcage, and Loki could feel that glorious cock twitch against his buttocks. “Only the pleasure of your company from time to time, my Prince. Something tells me it won’t be a hardship for you,” and then he gently ran his fingertips over Loki’s wet cock head, and Loki gasped at the sharp sensation, thighs clenching as the pain was followed by a pooling of new warmth in the pit of his belly.
“Perhaps,” Loki tried to rasp, then resigned himself to the indignity of whispering. Whimpered again as the hands continued to explore his body, fingers slipping down to press the tender area behind his balls.
“You’ll be back,” the man promised, and spread Loki’s legs. Loki leaned back against the furred chest and trembled as a finger softly circled his swollen, throbbing entrance before easily slipping in just to the first knuckle.
“Will I,” Loki breathed, trying for haughty, but it was rather tough going under the circumstances. Norns, but it hurt— and in his depravity, he didn’t want it to end. Oh gods, how he craved it.
“I will personally ensure you won’t be able to stay away,” the man promised, tilting Loki’s head to capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss that bordered on the overly-familiar. Loki broke away panting as he felt the man toying with one of his taut nipples, the finger in his arse still teasingly slipping in and out of him. Just enough to impossibly make him ache for more, make his cock fill and thicken once again.
Loki turned his head, just enough to look into the man’s dark eyes. They seemed to know entirely too much, but how he’d seen through Loki’s disguise was a puzzle for another time.
“Does anyone else know?” He managed, and the man shook his head.
“They don’t pay attention, and I don’t want to share,” he murmured, all self-assured possessiveness. “Relax. Enjoy yourself…”
“All right,” Loki muttered in resignation. Shakily, he turned to face the man and, with a humiliating lack of grace, slowly climbed onto his lap. “You win for now.” He was both terrified and pleased to see the man was somehow hard and ready once again. The man gave him a look of approving surprise as Loki lined himself up and, with an agonized keen, lowered his arse until he was resting in the man’s lap, somehow still feeling stretched by this single cock alone, despite all the abuse he had taken earlier.
The man’s chuckle was a warm rumble between them as he steadied Loki’s hips and began to rock up into him, no doubt sensing that Loki’s quivering thighs wouldn’t be up to the task. “See, you’re insatiable,” he murmured against Loki’s jaw, biting down before soothing the area with the flat of his tongue. “Tell me how badly you want my cock.”
Loki gasped, heat flooding every inch of his body. “I—“ he couldn’t finish the sentence, too turned on to speak.
“Tell me how much you like feeling it split you open,” the man insisted, lips moving close to his ear as he gave a hard thrust up into Loki. “I know you’re a greedy little thing— you just want it all, don’t you? You like having one down your throat and another in your ass and then some. You wanted to be discovered, did you not? Sneaking in here to be fucked by all your father's men... what a filthy little princeling.”
Loki’s only answer was a strangled moan, starting deep in his chest. The stimulation was almost too much to bear but oh, he wanted this torment to go on forever.
“Nggh.” He grit his teeth as the next thrust sent a spasm through him, feeling so full, so slick from the seed already inside him. The man pressed him closer, one massive hand spanning his shoulder blades, and kissed him again.
In a sober state, Loki often found kissing to be an utter waste of time, or else repugnantly intimate, but right now he just wanted more of the firm press of the man’s generous lips and slick tongue, the tickle of his beard, the way he wrapped his huge hand around Loki’s neck before trailing it down to tease Loki’s half-erect, exhausted cock.
They finally pulled back for air, the man gripping him close and rocking his hips up into him. Now he was hitting the swollen bud inside him once more, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, small hurt sounds escaping him. The pleasure seemed to tug deep down inside of him, clenching and spasming. It hurt, it hurt, oh gods it hurt so good.
Swallowing his pride, whispering desperately, “So close, please, I’m so close, please, fuck.”
“Then come for me, Loki,” the man growled quietly into his ear, not changing his pace, and the thrill of hearing his name— of being so thoroughly exposed— was all it took for Loki to crest for the third time, his orgasm all but ripped from him. The man rode him through it until he whimpered in pain, finally pausing to collect Loki’s spend with his fingers. Putting them in Loki’s mouth for him to dazedly lick clean. He barely tasted of anything, wrung out as he was, but the man kissed the taste from him anyway.
“Tell… tell no one of this,” Loki warned once he’d swallowed and caught his breath. The effect was surely somewhat ruined by his rasping whisper and his sex-wrecked state. “Swear it.”
“I swear it,” The man said, gripping Loki's thighs hard and thrusting up into him once more, and Loki quailed at the thought of continuing, but it seemed churlish now to refuse his anonymous lover his own release. A fiendish thought went through him that perhaps he had no choice but to allow it, now that the man knew his secret... which somehow only made him more eager to spread his legs. Loki whimpered as he was filled again and again, pleasure morphing into pain and back again, until the man gripped his hips and ground him down hard, went rigid and finally, blessedly came with a long, satisfied grunt. Loki could feel the throb of that thick cock coating his insides for the third time that night. He'd never let anyone do that before, and now... gods, now look at him. As bred and claimed as any sluttish mare.
After a few moments, the man released his grip on Loki’s hips with a rumbling, blissful sigh. Loki hissed as they disengaged. He made no attempt to stand, couldn’t even if he’d wanted to— already feeling the now-familiar trickle down the inside of his shaky thighs.
The man looked at him, noticed with satisfaction that he was dripping. “You look good like this,” he teased, not unkindly. “Disheveled, exhausted from fucking, covered in blood and come. It suits you to get a bit dirty.”
It was only then Loki realized they were both still covered in dried, flaking blood— smeared in places by sweat and other fluids. He sat there trembling on the bench, suddenly too overwhelmed at the thought of cleaning himself without using any obvious spell work. The man seemed to sense this, stooped down.
“Shall I carry you to the baths,” he winked, and Loki groaned in joy at the thought.
“You shall have yourself a palace and a fine stable," he jested weakly, voice nearly gone. "An overflowing treasury and all the beautiful boys you could wish for, if only you make good on that."
The man laughed, full-bellied and jovial. Before Loki could blink, the man had scooped him up and was carrying him away, stepping over the prone bodies of several unconscious Berserkers who slept where they fucked.
A few were still awake in the hall and wolf-whistled as they passed, and the man carrying him just laughed and winked, and Loki sighed both in mortification and bliss as he was conveyed to the empty baths, plunked down near the choicest tub with what would be an ideal view of the sunrise before long.
“Don’t fall asleep,” the man cautioned, setting him down and pulling the wooden lid from the steaming bath. Loki delicately stepped into the basin and tried not to let his legs wobble too much. The warm water was a shock to his system, but one he welcomed.
“Don’t worry," he managed to say. "I have much to reflect upon."
The man chuckled under his breath.
“I’ll take my leave, your highness,” he winked. “But if you have need of me again, just ask for Svadilfari.”