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They battle for the crown of the gods. The mighty thunderer and the sly shapeshifter.
“So,” Thor whispers to his errant sibling as he sits upon the golden throne, “you would fight me to claim your rightful place?”
He gets a scornful hiss; fitting response for the degradation that is being forced upon him. Loki Silvertongue stands naked, stripped as a slave might be, in the hall of Hlidskjálf, in front of a line-up of guards whose faces betray nothing but whose trained eyes surely see everything. Every contour, every cleft.
Let them see me, he thinks. Soon enough they will be made to bow before me.
With a gesture, Thor commands that the shackles be removed. Loki moves not an inch. Pride had stopped him from struggling when they removed his garb, and the same pride stayed his limbs now. Though it took a little more effort, and some spellwork, to mask the heat creeping up his neck.
Two guards take him by his arms and shove him in front of the seated king.
"Turn him around," says Thor. They obey. He reaches out to grasp the narrow hips. “There is but one condition for those who would usurp my place, brother.” He pulls his brother downward. “No defeat in battle is needed. All I ask is that they crown me with their flesh, in return for the crown of Asgard.”
And without further ado, he impales Loki upon his cock.
"Thor — please, no — !" The god of lies finds his wayward tongue lost in sharp cries as he grips the armrests of the throne to ease the pressure of his brother’s assault. Thor can be the gentlest lover despite his towering bulk, but in punishment he is relentless. White-hot guilt creeps up Loki’s spine at the pleasure he derives from this even as the pain chills his brow with sweat.
After a time they ease into a slower rhythm, and Loki regains his words. “I never…”
“What is it, brother?”
“I never…wanted the throne.” He swallows, shudders once, twice. “I only ever wanted…nhh —”
“Wanted what? To torment me, and the realm I cherish, for your imagined slights?”
Loki bits back a cry at the particular hard thrust that follows. “I only ever — wanted — to be your equal.” His wrists tremble from gripping the armrests; his knuckles have long gone white.
“That is not the message you conveyed the last time we met on Midgard,” Thor answered. There is hurt behind his anger. “I care not so much for rulership of Asgard, brother. But you spurned me as if I had never cared a whit for you — nor protected you, nor played and fought with you.” Another thrust. Another stifled moan. “In your eyes I was a stranger. I thought I had lost you.”
The thrusting continues. Once or twice, Loki's hands slip and he falls hard onto his brother's lap, impaled fully on the hard, too-large cock. He reminds himself not to cry out. He cries nonetheless when Thor sinks teeth into his shoulder.
"Send your guards away," he pants. "Grant me this small mercy at least...my king."
"And why should I?" comes the hoarse reply. "Let them witness how a betrayer is punished."
He wants to kill them all. Wants to glare straight into the guards' mocking eyes and melt their skin off their faces. But he cannot bear even to meet their gazes. Some of these men have seen him grow up in Asgard's golden halls. Seen him grow from a boy to a would-be king. And now he appears before them with less dignity than a beast. His humiliation is complete. Loki swallows and tells himself the prize he seeks is worth the punishment.
Then, suddenly, the thunder god softens. He releases his grip and allows Loki to dissolve into his arms, embracing his brother tightly with his face buried in the milk-white neck. “I do not ever want to lose you.”
He draws a shuddering breath. “Even kings can’t always get what they want, Thor.”
Faintly, through the haze of pleasure laced with pain, he hears Thor send the witnesses away — at last. They are alone on Hlidskjálf. Alone and bathed in each other's sweat and musk.
Loki lets his eyes fall shut lest the other sees the truth behind his lies. His limbs have strength for little else but to surrender to the will of his lord. He returns a lingering kiss, Thor’s organ still throbbing and warm inside him, as if they were made to interlock this way. You fit perfectly, after all, he thinks. Just the way I always knew you would.
He had come such a long way to claim his rightful place on the throne of Asgard. Here, beside his brother, king and lover, was where he belonged.
Loki smiled a secret smile and buried his tongue in Thor’s welcoming mouth. In the salty heat he tastes the seed of victory.
A true trickster always gets his way.
~