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The Tesseract transports them to an off-world location. It feels very isolated as one would imagine— the surrounding sky is a foreboding purple-black, with a peppering of distant stars that shimmer bright enough despite their distance. The terrain consists mostly of sparse greyish rocks and that vary in texture, some smooth, some jagged, gravelly. The air feels thin around them, smelling both faintly metallic and magical. Thor removes Loki's mouth guard, declaring a warning as he does so.
“If you even think of chanting some clever spell under your breath, I will knock the teeth clean from your head.”
Loki gives a wide grin in response, chuckling a wicked rasp as he stretches his painfully tight jaw. The device possessed a painful, vice-like grip that he is happy to be free from. Noticing that they're not yet on Asgard —their foremost destination— or so Thor had fastidiously claimed to his mortal companions, Loki grows curious.
“Where are we?”
Thor notes how Loki’s vocal chords sound unusually unworked— how he tries to mask it too. It pleases him a little.
“I thought we would take a detour, brother.” In all honesty, Thor doesn’t entirely know why he has brought Loki here. It was a fleeting decision he has yet to understand himself. “Now speak no more unless you want your muzzle straight back on. Do not have me be cruel to you. I only freed you from it because there are no humans for you to terrorise. It doesn’t mean I want to hear your scheming, wicked voice.”
“Very well.” Loki knows better than to antagonise his brother when in such a position of weakness, chains tight on his wrists and ankles. Instead, he perches on a nearby chunk of rock and wonders how he can exploit Thor’s own weaknesses in a more constructive manner. He tries not to think about Odin, Asgard, Thanos and the total mess he has embroiled himself in.
Time marches on, silence remains. The pair have been on this little planet for well over a day now. Loki feels restless. He worries for a while that Thor will kill him, but Mjolnir was set down as soon as they'd arrived here, remaining unmoved from the ground it was placed on, and Thor appears to have no violence left in him. Loki lurks in the shadow of a particularly cavernous rock, watching Thor, who is sat down on a precipice— legs dangling into some abyss, looking into the distance at the dying star before them. It looks close enough to reach out and touch, but in reality it is many, many miles away.
Thor knows Loki is watching, so he speaks his thoughts on the nebula.
“Though dying, isn't it beautiful?” Loki says nothing in response, but steps out of his hiding place and sits beside Thor. It isn’t a lie, the old Red Giant emits a haze of electric blue at its centre that is quite awe-striking. “Those colours ignite the sky, don’t you think?”
Loki wants to tell his brother that the blue reminds him of his eyes. Instead he asks a question. “Why have you brought us here?”
Thor sighs. “I know you have done so many wrongs, Loki, wrongs that I will never forgive you for.” He wears pain clear on his face. “But you are still my brother, and I am no fool. I fear for how father might see fit to punish you.”
The words sting Loki. “So you think that by stalling us here you're helping me somehow? That you're achieving anything?” He spits his words in a mocking way to conceal his own terror. “Better to get it over and done with before the old man croaks.”
Thor gives a sudden and thunderous blow to Loki's face. It knocks Loki to the ground, where he cups his own jaw with shackled wrists and laughs. His brother’s violence ignites his bones.
“Oh how mighty you are, Thor!” he laughs bitterly, “Unworthy I am of such an assault to my face.”
“Do not speak of our father in such a way.”
“Your father.”
“Brother-”
“Do not-” but he cannot finish say I am your brother— the words stick in his throat. He wriggles his chained wrists instead, suddenly even more terrified of his fate and no longer able to carefully conceal it from Thor. His brother who knows him better than anyone else. “Will you free me if I beg? Plead?”
“I am no fool, Loki.”
Loki meets the statement with silence. He thinks about how foolish they have both been. “Odin will kill me, you know.” He tries to sound nonchalant as he scrabbles to stand up and away from the dangerous edge— a total contrast to the time on the Bifrost. Thor follows instinctively, but doesn’t reply. Their eyes burn each other, and Loki smiles sadistically.
“What if I kneel at your feet?” he asks, already doing so. Thor places a tentative hand on his head — the usually sleek black hair feels wild beneath his fingers, failing to conceal defeat.
“Loki…”
“What if I kiss—”
“Loki!”
He only smirks as Thor snaps at him, affected.
“But you are the future King of Asgard.” He smiles, mock-innocent. “Had you not better get used to indulging in subjugation?” Loki stays kneeled and caresses Thor's legs with his shackled wrists, kneading his fingers across his armour. “Oooh, so tense these muscles are. My actions on Midgard have taken a toll on you and your lovely body.”
“Loki.” It is neither warning nor chastisement now, more like a stating of fact. Loki's hands are dangerously close to Thor's groin, and he can feel arousal drawing to it. They never did succumb to such urges in the past, both shamed by how forbidden and inappropriate it was to feel that way; even Loki in his current state of madness knew that it was wrong.
But to him, that was what made it so right.
Since Thor had discovered that their blood ran different, he could not fully deny it either. His mind kept prompting him of repressed memories of their youth — little things, said or unsaid, lingering touches, caught glances. One moment in particular resurfaces itself, drowning Thor's thoughts— the evening of the ceremony that officially granted him Mjolnir—
—— After all the celebrations had died down, Loki came to his chambers, acting peculiar. Thor kept goading him, but he wouldn’t lift the behaviour even in their privacy.
“It is yours, brother, and I would never be worthy,” Loki responds to Thor’s offer of holding the beautiful, precious hammer. He has never seen his little brother look so forlorn. “In fact, I am scarcely worthy to lurk even in your shadow after this eve.”
“Ha!” Thor laughs, “Such sarcasm. You wear bitterness well, Loki.”
Loki’s face is serious as his voice. “I do not joke. You wait and see. Come tomorrow, you won't give a damn about little Loki and his petty seidr now that you can soar the skies with your precious Mjolnir.”
“My brother,” Thor cradles his neck, “why do you speak like this?I love you.”
“Our love is unequal now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I say,” Loki snarls and pretends to be interested in Thor's bedsheets before sighing and heeding. “You are coming of age, and I will be left behind like an old ragdoll forgotten.” His eyes threaten tears, but his expression is filled with as much venom as his words. Thor dismisses his comment, thinking it preposterous, and lets go.
“You would ruin my momentous occasion out of sheer jealousy,” Thor huffs.
“I am not jealous of you, mindless oaf,” Loki says, “I simply do not understand.”
“Understand what?”
Loki's mouth seeks to form words that get stuck in his throat. He gets up and turns on his heels to leave Thor's chambers. Thor grabs him and slams him against the door, pushing Mjolnir to his chest with a thud.
“Understand what?” Thor repeats. In such proximity, he notices for the first time how vividly green his brother's eyes are when he is nervous, how his lips quiver ever so slightly when he is unwilling to speak the truth - for fear of it. He smells like black pepper, jasmine and something indescribable. For a fleeting moment, Thor wants to taste him —and what's even more terrifying— he knows that Loki wants him to taste. He leans in a little closer as nervous green eyes widen, breath ghosting over his brother's face, but neither will dare move a fraction more.
“I… I do not understand why you are more worthy than me.” Loki places his hand onto Mjolnir defiantly, atop of Thor's own, and a current surges through them, shocking both with its force. The very air around them crackles with electricity, but Mjolnir remains unmoved. It is a remarkable moment, and Thor knows right there and then that he will never forget it.
“Worry not, brother. You will find your calling.” Thor pulls the hammer away from Loki's chest after a short while, yet Loki remains pinned to the door.
“Aye,” he retorts roughly, pausing. “Perhaps something even greater than such a golden prize.” His eyes burn Thor's as he leaves, incapable of saying another word without admitting defeat. ——
The force of the memory, coupled with Loki’s ever-teasing fingers causes Thor to instinctively draw his knee up hard — the motion striking Loki in the face. He flies backwards dramatically, blood gushing out of his nose.
“Do not—” but Thor's threat falls silent in his mouth when he notices the further blood. It continues to pour from Loki's face to both of their surprise, in time turning into a steady trickle that runs down to his mouth where he laps it up with his tongue. When Thor crouches down and uses his thumb to wipe it away, he laps at that too.
It sends a shiver down both of their spines. Thor caves in, indulging them in a brief moment of desire as he presses his thumb into Loki's mouth; Loki curves to fit it and bites down gently as he sucks, eliciting a moan from his brother's lips before he takes it out.
“Mmmm,” Loki's expression is sadistic again, but his smile is a slither of sweet and his eyes are doe-like and relaxed. “I do hope Heimdall watches.”
“Enough,” Thor flushes, scarcely convincing himself.
“Why don't you punish me, oh Mighty Thor?” Loki laughs then, “Mighty brother. I think you'd like that. In fact, I think we both would.”
Thor stays silent. He cannot bear to look at Loki, for he knows that therein lies alarming truth. Meanwhile, Loki grows impatient of his own game.
“This would be your only chance; I suggest you take it while I offer it.”
“You are my brother, Loki. I do not hold such desires for you.”
“Ha! Tell it to your wanton whoreish moans. I don’t think they got the memorandum.”
“Enough, Loki.”
Loki rolls his eyes, “You evade the truth.”
“I do not!” Thor growls. His hands coil into tight fists. “I do not desire you.”
Loki simply laughs. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about taking me in such a way since you found out my true parentage.” Thor’s evading eyes do speak volumes, so Loki decides to take pity on him. “You are a terrible liar, Thor. I have felt it too.”
“Quiet yourself! You are—”
“My brother, yes. But not by blood, Odinson. It is not forbidden.”
Thor shakes his head, mind reeling, “But it is unrighteous and wrong.”
“I am unrighteous and wrong, you fool!” Loki scathes now, eyes wide. “Can you not give me what I deserve?” He cannot hide the want from his voice; it gives Thor an insight into how much such thoughts must have twisted his mind. “I yearn for wickedness.” He composes himself before continuing. “Heimdall cannot see me. I lied before. I can remain shielded from his view, if that is what troubles you.”
“It does not. You trouble me. You are deranged, Loki.” Thor stands up. Loki pounces forward, eyes wild, grabbing at Thor's cape, only to be shoved to the ground.
“Oh I'm troubled all right — only the gods know wherein my fate lies once we travel the Bifrost,” Loki scrambles to his feet, attempting decorum. “So why don't you make the journey less arduous for the both of us, knowing that you sated me with your own perversions.” He gently caresses Thor’s chest.
“Loki, no…” Thor starts, but the no is said without conviction and the rest of his words fall short.
Loki can smell the success, almost taste it on his lips. He blinks, eyes wide.
“Do you not love me?”
“You know that I do,” Thor sighs.
“Then prove it, brother,” Loki goads, biting his own lip and grabbing at Thor’s vambraces. “Punish me with your strength and seduction.”
“You... you…” Thor strikes Loki to back the ground in a sudden fit of rage, only to then sit beside him. He watches fresh blood trickle. “My brother has gone, hasn’t he?” Loki says nothing, so he continues. “You were so much more than this, a base and maddened fool. You’ve let the wrong emotions control your actions.”
“I simply found my true calling, Thor. Upon Odin’s request.”
“You have murdered innocents and show no remorse,” Thor thunders again now, remembering the wicked.
“I think you forget how many you have murdered over the years,” Loki knows he has hit a nerve when Thor says nothing. He scoffs. “Self-righteous fool.”
“Only in battle have I killed,” Thor feels guilt for that in itself sometimes now. “And I have learnt the error of my ways.”
“Battles that you would blunder in and cause, just because your temper permitted it so!” Loki rolls his eyes, anger replaced with haughtiness. “You see? We are not so different. I simply wanted my throne. My dominion. My birthright.”
“You are sick in the mind.”
“As I’ve been telling you.”
Thor touches Loki’s face with steady hands, then.
He finally understands why he brought him here. Thor is a fool to his own desires; burning already for what is to come. “I should have left your muzzle on,” he says, knowingly defeated as Loki crawls up his body like a serpent.
“But where would lie the fun in that, brother? My silvertongue is what you desire most from me, is it not?”
Thor struggles to keep his breathing steady as Loki reaches his destination —Thor’s neck— where he proceeds to lick and nibble in a languorous fashion. It feels like fire on his skin, Loki’s tongue and mouth. He can feel his brother’s hardness as he struggles for balance in Thor’s lap, chains rattling against battle armour. Eventually, Loki opts for throwing his shackled arms over Thor’s head as he sits a little more upright, causing a very intimate proximity. Thor sucks in breath, mouth dry from desire as Loki bites and laps in turn at his jugular, hot and wicked.
“It appears to not disappoint, then.” Loki nuzzles into his brother’s neck as he speaks lowly, “And I must congratulate you on a most delectable décolletage.” As if to further prove his compliment, Loki sucks hard enough to draw blood to the surface of Thor’s skin. They both groan with pleasure.
“Loki…”
“How I have wanted to kiss these handsome lips—to feel your taste dominate my own.” Loki’s breath shakes as his voice remains maddened and even. “Shall we?’”
Thor’s response is caught in his throat as Loki presses his mouth to his, firm yet soft. The pace is soon sensual and beholden, slithers of tongue and teeth jolting desire through every fibre of Thor’s body. Loki tastes like a sordid secret that is oddly tender. Eventually Loki pulls away for breath. His lips are swollen, hair is mussed, and there are flecks of dried blood around his nose and chin.
He is beautiful, even in madness and sin.
“Would you have more?”
The question is rhetorical, because Loki is already attempting to remove Thor’s armour with trembling fingers that betray his seductive tone. Overridden with lust himself, Thor willingly assists. Suddenly there seems so many layers between them that must be shed at once, but as in their relationship, Loki remains fully clothed and concealed, instead focusing intently on Thor. His mouth is on Thor’s cock as soon as it springs free, tongue lapping and greedy as he hums around it, laughing manically. Thor could rip the ground in two with pleasure.
Loki pulls away with a loud pop, “Mmm yes, forbidden and sweet it tastes, brother. Just as I had imagined.” He keeps the swollen cock in hand and sucks the tip seductively for dramatic effect. “No, better than I had imagined. And so formidable when erect.” He bends down again, shackles clanking, and takes as much of it as he can, spit oozing out of his curled lips. He chokes himself on it for a while, enjoying how Thor’s delighted groans spike his own arousal, but he must breathe eventually. “Can't say I'm surprised, having sneaked many a peak when it's been in a more flaccid state. You really are chiselled from stone, aren’t you?”
“Loki,” Thor warns. Loki ignores.
“I cannot stand it, perfect brother mine.”
“Loki.”
“So polite too, not thrusting once into my inviting mouth.” Loki shakes his head in mock derision, looking the picture of debauchery. “Where’s all your violence now, eh? You promised me punishment. Or have you forgotten already that I murdered innocents? Perhaps instead I should pay your Midgardian girlfriend a visit…’
Loki laughs as Thor pins him to the ground and assaults his mouth, alternating between cruel clobbering with his fists and rough kisses, all teeth and tongue. “Mmm,” he stutters, “that’s more like it. You must think me indestructible.”
Thor growls in frustration, “I could throw you into this abyss, and still you would somehow survive, such is your intrinsically selfish nature.”
As Loki looks up, he notes how Thor’s eyes spark brighter than the stars that shine behind him. “Oooh, you've given that some thought, haven't you?” he goads.
“I have thought of a thousand ways to bring you to justice over the hours passed since your attack on New York.” He shoves Loki away. “That includes throwing you into the void, yes.”
“Dark indeed, but have some style, brother. You've already done that once before.” The words warrant another unforgiving punch. As Loki struggles beneath the heavy weight of solid skin, Thor pins his hands above his head. His body contorts to accommodate the equally unforgiving chains; he looks pitiful and trapped.
“You are of delusion Loki. You fell willingly on that day, and you broke my heart in doing so.”
“And what of my heart?” Green eyes, wide and glassy, lose all traces of rage and provocation. They look away from the blue gaze above, “I—I am a monster. An abomination, detestable…”
“You were none of those things until you ravaged Midgard as a petty playing field for your games. Again. You betrayed me. You stabbed me— again. Where is but a glimmer of remorse?”
Loki’s jaw tightens. “I already told you, I don’t have any.” He licks his lips. Thor mirrors the action unconsciously. “So vent on me your frustrations, brother.”
With an angered rumble, Thor resists no further. He starts dismantling Loki’s armour around the shackles, giving up the second he manages to force his leathers down to his knees instead, exposing smooth, bruised legs and an aching, leaking cock. It pleases Thor to see his brother hard for him — finally an emotion he cannot conceal. Nevertheless, after one slick lick of the shaft that he simply cannot resist to taste, he turns Loki around, rubbing the bare skin of his groin to Loki’s rear while thrusting two fingers into a greedy wet mouth. Loki moans around them, sucking as keenly as he did before.
He forces the damp fingers into the tight little hole in front of him with no regard, which is exactly what Loki wants.
“Mmm yes, just like that, brother. Rough and dry.”
Thor takes the fingers out, but when he tries, he can’t even manage to get the tip of his cock in. Loki huffs impatiently, which awards him with being pushed further into the gravelly surface. Thor spreads his cheeks open with large hands, pokes his tongue into the puckered ring of muscle, surprising himself as much as Loki when he does so. So much in fact, that Loki is lost for words when his brother delves further, enjoying the disgusting and forbidden taste of it.
Soon enough, Thor replaces his tongue with the swollen head of his cock. It breaches the muscle slicker now, but Loki cuts the air still with a strangled moan as he shoves fully in with a wicked abruptness. Buried to the hilt, Thor is blinded with both anger and devotion for his brother. The emotion is overwhelming. He gives a few cautious thrusts, but is soon enough lost to his own manic, relentless and barbarous rhythm, fingers digging into bony hips that tremble beneath his force.
Eventually, Loki can manage to speak something that isn’t incoherent babble. “Fuck— fuck—touch me,” he manages, referring to his neglected, leaking cock. “Please— I’m begging you.”
“This is—” Thor stutters, “—supposed to be punishment, not satisfaction.” His teeth and tongue ravage Loki’s shoulders and neck; one hand wraps around his lean body, one cruelly to his long black hair, pulling him flush so that Thor can lap at his jaw — breathy, feral grunts tormenting Loki’s ear.
“Know this,” Loki struggles for breath as he pushes up to meet Thor’s motions, “I will never be satisfied when it comes to you, brother.”
Thor moans at the use of the word in the height of their animalism. He takes mercy on his brother—his brother— takes Loki’s hardness in hand, thrusting only once, twice to their joint completion.
Riding out the most pent-up and intense orgasm of his entire life, Loki wonders if this —this precise moment— is what it feels to be truly satisfied. Like time is stretched to nothing but elation and sin, equal fires. Love. Truth.
After the act, Thor turns Loki on his back, observing the shattered expression on his face, the fragments of remorse in his eyes. They share a kiss which contains no trace of any of their previous violence or rage, filled instead with gentleness and affection. In a strange way, it feels more intimate than anything else.
They fall asleep together, exhausted from battle.
When Loki awakes, he sees his brother sat back on the cavernous edge of the planet. He makes himself as decent as possible and follows, hovering above Thor like a shadow stretched.
“I’m still not sorry,” he says, calm and even.
“I have to take you home,” Thor says, looking up with earnest eyes. “There is no other way. I’m sorry, brother.”
Loki considers pushing Thor off the edge of the precipice into the void, but cannot muster the conviction needed. Besides, what would he live for then? He sits beside Thor instead, looks at the nebula in the distance. Its burning blue core is beautiful and defiant. Even the slowest, most painful demises can set the sky alight, he thinks.
“I know.”