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“Brother?”
Loki taps his nails lazily on the arm of the throne as Thor steps out of the shadows. “You knew I was here.” It isn’t really a question, but he still wants to hear Thor say it.
“Mjolnir tells me Asgard shudders when you walk on her back,” Thor says, stepping closer, and it isn’t lost on Loki that the hammer isn’t in Thor’s hand now. “So yes, I knew.” He stops just shy of the throne, eyes raking over Loki hard enough to leave him feeling manhandled even though Thor hasn’t touched him. “What is this?”
“This?” Loki glances down at himself. He knows every inch of this body as if he were born to it, the full curve of thigh and hip blending into the dip of his waist, breasts small enough for Thor’s hands to cover easily, the slighter jaw and tongue. Thor doesn’t though. Not yet. “Don’t you like it?” Loki twists a thick strand of hair between his fingers. The look on Thor’s face tells him all he needs to know, so he doesn’t wait for an answer that isn’t likely to come. “I prefer it, sometimes.”
He uncrosses his legs slowly and watches the way Thor’s eyes slip to the soft v between them where his skirt clings to his thighs.
“Why now, then?” Thor asks.
“The branches of Yggdrasil are green with spring.” Loki says. “Have you ever seen the great Dire Wolves in rut?”
Thor’s eyes narrow. “I don’t see what that has to do with--”
“Ulv is a powerful lover,” Loki continues, running one hand down over the swell of his breast under the pretense of smoothing down the flimsy fabric he’s wearing. “Did you know that canids tie with their mates? Their endurance is unparallelled.”
“I’ve spent enough time at the breeding kennels,” Thor says through clenched teeth, fingers tensing.
“I enjoy him best like this.” Loki smiles, sharp, baiting the trap with far more than words. “Mounting me as he pleases and trying to fill my belly with his litter.” There’s nothing feigned about the way his breath catches in his throat at the memory. “Nothing makes me wetter than his cock spreading my cunt wide while his jaws close over the nape of my neck.”
Thor twitches.
“I have some impressive marks.” He tilts his head and pulls the heavy curls of his hair away from his throat. “From his teeth. Do you want to see?”
Thor surges forward, pinning Loki between thick arms and solid chest. His knee is warm between Loki’s thighs. “Why are you telling me this?”
“To watch you want,” Loki says, spreading his legs to make more space for Thor’s knee on the edge of the throne. Their bodies barely brush, and Loki wants that muscled weight on him just as badly as he wants to see the lust burn brighter in Thor’s eyes.
He slips his hands into the warm space between them and cups his breasts. “You do want, don’t you?” Thor’s heart pounds and the thick muscle caging Loki in trembles, but he doesn’t move. Loki tilts his face up, brushing the tip of his nose against Thor’s, ignoring the tug in his neck from the weight of his horned circlet. “I’m not sure your cock is quite up to the same pleasures, but—“
Thor’s mouth is rough and careless as he kisses him, one hand twisting into Loki’s long hair and pulling. It’s sharp pain, good pain, like the scrape of Thor’s beard against more sensitive female skin. Loki sinks his teeth into Thor’s lip and licks the drop of blood away with a smile as Thor snarls and tugs his hair harder.
“You’re as much a beast as any I’ve ever fucked, brother. But can you live up to it?” Loki murmurs , gripping Thor’s shoulders and rolling his hips up.
“I have ways to make you wetter than any wolf,” Thor says, voice low and dark and so certain that Loki shivers.
Thor lets go of his hair, kissing him once more like he still needs to learn the different curves of this body’s mouth before sliding to his knees in front of the throne.
“I think I like you like this,” Loki says, but it’s not as sharp as it should be. “Kneeling before me.”
“Shut up.” His fingers brush along the arch of Loki’s bare foot, over his ankle, to the hem of his skirt. “Shut up and spread your legs for me.”
Loki obeys, edging his knees wider to make space for Thor’s bulk, breath heating as Thor lifts his skirt and shoves it up to his hips. The silence in the throne room is a palpable thing as Thor stares. Loki watches his face, the way he runs his tongue over his lower lip. Time spent getting to know this body intimately, with a mirror and his own fingers and all the fresh curiosity of a teenage shapeshifter, means he knows exactly what Thor is looking at.
Thor slides the flat of his palms up the inside of Loki’s thighs, pushing them even further apart. This body isn’t much smaller than the one he was born in, but Thor’s hands still feel huge and deliciously indelicate as he grabs Loki’s hips and pulls him forward, to the edge of the throne.
“I’m going to lash you with my tongue until you cry for mercy,” Thor says, words coming out in puffs of warm air on wet, sensitive skin, and Loki can’t help but squirm. “Until you’re dripping. And then I will show you what my cock can do to this form of yours.”
“Do it, then,” Loki whispers, biting his lip at the rough burn of Thor’s beard high up inside his thigh, close, so close to touching him but not. He reaches down to tug Thor’s hair. “Do it.”
He doesn’t mean to moan at the first lick, but Thor’s tongue is soft and wet, practiced, and Loki hates every single woman Thor has ever touched to learn this. It’s slow at first, steady, enough to keep Loki panting, and he wants that warm slick pressure focused on his clit, not teasing over it on each slow stroke. But he refuses to give Thor the satisfaction of breaking so soon, so he grips his hair tighter and focuses on the sight of that shaggy blond head between his thighs.
Thor’s impatience can always be counted on in the end, and he changes tactics mercifully fast. He splays one hand over Loki’s stomach and edges it down, pulling away just long enough to slide two thick fingers down between his labia and spread him wide open. Then his mouth is back, lapping up between his fingers and over delicate stretched skin and nerves. Loki arches on his tongue, toes curling on the polished floor.
He means to stay in control, no matter how it feels, but he arches his back anyway, makes sounds he’s sure he’s never heard this body make when Thor shifts his broad hands back to his thighs and holds them open.
“And they say I’m the one with the silver tongue,” Loki manages to get out, the healthy pink of his fingers bleeding into blue at the edges as he grips the cold arms of the throne to steady himself.
Thor just drags Loki’s thighs over his shoulders, those big hands sliding down to cradle his ass and hold him higher, closer. Loki arches his spine harder at the sudden jolt of rough beard rubbing over the slick lips of his cunt. He’s already close, so close, strung tight from the tilt of his foot over Thor’s shoulder to the curve of his throat, head tilted back so far the tips of his horns scrape the back of the throne with every involuntary twitch and shiver.
He comes when Thor sucks his clit, shuddering through it with both hands tangled in Thor’s hair. There’s a few seconds after when the soft flick of Thor’s tongue still feels good, before the tense pleasure bleeds into an ache, and Loki squirms. “Stop.”
Thor’s only response is to suck a little harder, slip two fingers inside him and crook them up, and that’s something Loki has only ever felt with his own fingers in this form. He pulls Thor’s hair, torn between wanting to buck against his fingertips until he comes again and wanting that intense pressure on oversensitive parts away from him, now.
“Thor,” Loki says, and it’s hard to put the right kind of power in his voice when he can’t even control the way his hips are moving. There’s the barest touch of teeth on his clit and his thighs spasm on Thor’s shoulders. “Thor.” He chokes on the syllable, shoving at Thor’s head until he pulls back and looks up at him.
Instead of saying anything, Thor licks his lips and edges back up Loki’s body, covering his breasts with his palms as he settles his knee back between Loki’s trembling thighs and leans down.
“I do want this body,” Thor rumbles, lips brushing the edge of Loki’s ear. “But you have to tell me that you want mine, or I’ll leave you wet and wanting and find someone who wants me between their legs.”
Giving Thor what he wants keeps bridges Loki needs intact. Giving Thor what he wants has never been a hardship, or a particularly easy thing to deny.
Loki thrusts his breasts forward into the warmth of Thor’s hands, biting his lip and pretending that the way his legs wrap around Thor’s waist is entirely involuntary. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, letting the fuck roll off his tongue in the filthiest way he knows how. He slips his fingers over Thor’s and presses them harder against his breasts. “Fuck me so hard my other body will still feel it tomorrow, and maybe I’ll think about coming to you instead of Ulv next time I need a good, hard ride.”
There’s no missing the soft growl deep in Thor’s chest, or the sharp pain that thrills down Loki’s spine as Thor squeezes his breasts, pinches his nipples roughly through the thin fabric he’s wearing, before reaching down to fumble between them for the laces on his breeches. He doesn’t pause between pulling them open and shoving Loki’s thighs apart so he can thrust in deep.
“Is this good enough for you?” Thor grunts, nails digging into the underside of Loki’s thighs.
Loki’s focused on the way he’s spread open and pressed down and somehow it manages to be so much more intimate than being completely naked but fucked from behind. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, deliberately tensing his muscles and hooking his ankles together at the small of Thor’s back. His own fingers feel small laced together over the back of Thor’s neck in this form. “Try harder.”
Thor obliges him, muscles bunching along his shoulders as he drives into him. It’s not as frenzied as some of the sex Loki as had, slower, but the power behind every thrust is jarring and very, very real. There’ll be tender bruises along the back of his thighs to match the bite marks on his throat, and Loki already knows which he prefers.
“Harder,” he gasps against the corded tendons in Thor’s neck, face tucked close to the race of his pulse. “Make me come on your cock.”
For all the blood on the ground between them, Thor hasn’t let him down yet. He slows a little, grinding down more at the top of every thrust, and it’s enough friction for Loki to feel the tense stir and clench deep in his stomach again.
Then Thor grabs one of his horns and uses it to twist his head back, away from the protective curve of Thor’s throat, and they’re eye to eye and panting and Loki is about to come crying out and he doesn’t want Thor to see it. He tries to hold off, push back the pleasure trying so hard to break him...
...and comes, eyes scrunched shut, knowing Thor is watching every single second even has he keeps his grip on one golden horn and fucks with less focus, faster and shallower until he’s moaning and making Loki even wetter with his come.
It’s too hard not to stare back as they both breathe hard, chests heaving together. So Loki watches the drift of Thor’s eyes when he lifts a hand and tucks Loki’s hair back behind his ear, then draws the tip of his finger down over his cheekbone to his lips.
Loki turns his face away before Thor can kiss him, closing his eyes to the soft touch of Thor’s mouth on his cheek.
“Loki,” Thor says, gently. It’s something he only calls him now when they’re like this, sharing breath and sweat while Thor is still buried inside him. “You know I would offer you this willingly, if you just came to me, and asked. There’s no need for games.”
It’s painfully earnest and true and everything Loki hates about Thor. He’s wrong, anyway. There’s always a need for games, whether it’s obvious yet or not.
He turns his face back to Thor. Bares his teeth. “But it’s so much more fun to take.”