Chapter Text
Utgard was a cold, gray and dreary place. Even the royal palace, with its famed icicle ceiling, held little appeal—outside of symbolizing that the war with Jotunheim was over. The Casket of Ancient Winters had been secured, and King Laufey brought to heel. Home was so close now that Thor could almost taste it. The celebratory feast with roast boar, herring, nuts, and cheeses. Then desserts of candied peels and fruit pies. All accompanied by tankards of honey mead and goblets of tannic wine.
Thor was ready to return to the golden realm of Asgard, to brightness and revelry. First though, he’d been tasked with overseeing tribute. The desolate kingdom had little to offer in proper recompense to the victors. Gold had to be stripped from the palace adornments to muster any weight. Textiles were extremely limited given their preferred type of dress. Some weapons in the vault were valuable and finely crafted, but those were few and far between. Labor potential from the race of giants held the most promise, but many of those of strong constitution had been struck down during the war. It left worn laborers, lowly servants, and crass women to serve as slaves.
Thor bypassed the standing guards with a brief nod and entered the corral of the remaining captives awaiting disposition. None were of particular importance. Many of those held were of the expected type, as bitter and grim as the capital itself. But Thor looked twice, struck by the feeling that he’d missed something or rather someone. Someone who stood out from the gray world, the embodiment of a burning light in a realm of dark.
And this one was so very unusual compared to his unpleasant companions, who had skull caps and the hulking proportions of giants. This one had a shorter, slimmer figure, a beautifully cut face, and long raven locks contained in an intricate plait.
Awed, Thor stared too long, for the man noticed his attention and positively glared in return. Defiant. Fiery. Sharp
After catching a look at the crimson eyes, Thor was absolutely certain.
This one needed to be his.
*
Thor arrived back to Asgard, welcomed by more hearty food, warm mead and generous cheers. But he only greeted his fellow Asgardians for a raucous toast in victory, no longer eager for the standard comforts of home. Instead, he tried to make a quick exit that was delayed time and time again by courtiers and soldiers, congratulations and raised cups.
Lady Sif and the Warrior’s Three noticed his unsubtle escape attempts and eventually took pity on their friend, running interference until Thor made it to the door. They had not seen the precious conquest Thor had claimed but knew of him all the same.
“Just be careful with that one, Thor. Good bed sport is not worth a knife in the back,” Lady Sif told him at the door.
“Depends on the bed sport, my Lady Sif,” Fandral drawled and received an elbow in the gut for his words. Sif shook her head at them both, and then Thor was off as eagerly as may become a prince.
He met the small retinue in the antechamber of his apartments. Two guards and an elderly female mage. His jotun was still shackled, standing rigidly in the center of the room.
“Enough of that. Remove the chains,” Thor instructed the guards.
“My lord, I recommend the left wristlet stay on for it suppresses seidr. This one is a powerful user,” the female mage said.
Thor raised his brows, both surprised and not. Thor had been drawn to the jotun for his bold intensity, an unusual characteristic for a small one to have in a land of giants. It was all the more luck that Thor had claimed him first, lest he need to compete for the right to have him. A powerful sorcerer would have been snapped up by Tyr or his father to serve at the beck and call of Asgard. The thought of the little jotun housed in the dungeons or shackled for another sent a surprising wave of jealousy through him.
But the jotun was his now, and eventually he’d have all the bindings removed from his spoil of war.
With the last chains removed, the guards backed away and eyed the jotun warily. The jotun made no effort to fight or flee, but simply tilted his head up with an expression of open contempt.
“What is your name?” Thor asked, stepping closer to study the intricate blue bands that decorated the perfect cobalt skin. Thor wondered if they marked every inch of him and delighted in the ability to find out soon enough.
The jotun regarded him for a long moment of silence before he said, “Loki.”
“Hello, Loki. I am Crown Prince Thor of Asgard.”
“I know who you are,” Loki spat, sudden, clear rage twisting his facial features. “Beast. Savage. Land despoiler.”
Thor tutted, undisturbed by the venom. He could smell the soft, inviting scent of the jotun and thought of little more than nuzzling his head in the crook of Loki’s neck to bask in it. He knew that would not yet be welcomed and had no desire to have an audience when he finally reached for his prize.
“It was not Asgard that started the war with Jothunheim, nor have we taken anything more than we are due as proper recompense,” Thor reminded him. “You may find your station here a fortuitous direction of your life’s thread.”
“Oaf. The only direction my life will take is to destroy all that you hold dear-”
Loki cut off abruptly, startled when Thor traced his fingertips down along the jotun’s delicate neck. Loki’s pulse fluttered under the pad of Thor’s finger. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and Thor followed the movement with his eyes.
“Leave us,” Thor instructed the others when he remembered himself, waiting until he heard the door click shut behind the last of them. Loki eyed it none too subtly, but again, he did not make a run for it. Probably aware that he would never make it far, especially with his magic bound.
All the better. Thor had no desire to use more force than necessary.
“Come,” Thor told him.
Loki did not come.
“If you think you can command me, you think too much of yourself, foolish Asgardian,” Loki said, baring his teeth.
Thor’s returning grin sent an obvious flicker of doubt across Loki’s expression.
“Perhaps then, I can simply appeal to reason,” Thor tried, though reason was rarely his way either. Still, never let it be said he did not offer the alternative first. “As you too have the opportunity to enjoy yourself.”
Obvious deliberation churned behind Loki’s crimson eyes, but Thor knew better than to expect an easy concession. Thor cupped the jotun’s cheek and smoothed his thumb over his plush lower lip. Loki let out a huff of discontent but did not bite, like Thor thought he might.
“You are mine now. Only mine. I intend to share no part of you, especially not what happens in bed.”
Quick as a gazelle, Loki turned and ran. Not for the door, as Thor initially expected, but for the balcony railing. They were on the third story, and Loki would surely hurt himself if he managed to jump.
Loki was fast, but Thor was not slow, despite his bigger size. Loki’s momentary hesitation at diving to the ground, sight unseen, gave Thor the chance to capture Loki’s waist.
Loki leveraged Thor’s hold to slam his head back and give Thor a bloody nose. Thor grunted but only tightened his grip. Loki bucked and cursed wildly, a foolhardy waste of energy. He was not strong enough to break Thor’s hold.
When the jotun finally tired enough, Thor spun him around and hefted Loki over his shoulder. Loki shrieked in outrage and clawed at Thor’s back hard enough to draw blood. Thor smacked Loki’s backside as a reprimand.
“I will have your head for this!”
Thor smacked him again. Loki thumped against his back. Another smack.
“Put me down! Put me down!” Loki ordered, and Thor obeyed, though only to set the jotun on his bed.
Thor was prepared for Loki’s mad attempt to kick him, so he stopped the attack by grabbing Loki’s ankles.
Loki then went for Thor’s face, but Thor head-butted him to ward off a busted cheek in addition to his bloodied nose. The blow momentarily dazed Loki.
Then after some grappling, Thor managed to secure both of Loki’s thin wrists with one hand. He used his body weight to pin Loki down. Aware that he had lost for now, Loki quit thrashing and simply glowered.
They both heaved with exertion for a moment after.
“If you are like this without your seidr, I can only imagine how fearsome you are with it,” Thor commented. Thor wiped his nose, comforted to find it unbroken, if swollen and tender.
“Do not mock me, Asgardian,” Loki hissed.
“I do not mock. I am quite taken with your spirit.”
Perhaps Thor should not have said that, because after a moment of evaluation, Loki made a point to deprive Thor of said spirit. He went still and cast his gaze up at the ceiling, as if bored.
Thor frowned. At least he had pinned the jotun for now. He ghosted his lips along Loki’s experimentally, and Loki did not respond in the least. With a little more confidence, he kissed harder and swept his tongue along Loki’s plush lower lip. Thor tasted the hint of juniper berries and sweetness, though Loki kept his lips clamped tight together.
Certain Loki would bite him if he tried to deepen the kiss, Thor turned his attention to follow the bands that decorated Loki’s cheek. He breathed in Loki’s hair and nipped at Loki’s ear, finally earning a muted growl in return. Thor smiled, following the contour of Loki’s throat before reaching the juncture of Loki’s neck and sucking in earnest.
He worried up a careful bruise, his mark, on his jotun’s neck. Loki huffed in small, quick breaths, despite a valiant attempt to seem unaffected. Thor enjoyed the other side of Loki’s throat while his fingers glided along the contours of his collarbone, the planes of his chest. He reached Loki’s nipple and found it already pebbled.
“Are you so pathetic that you have no other to choose from but one so repulsed by your touch? Or do you like to pretend you're worthy of a jotun mate, despite your lowly nature?” Loki hissed, perhaps a poor attempt to distract from his obvious quivering.
Thor chuckled.
“I would not have any other jotun than you, Loki.”
Thor followed the path he had traced, now with his mouth. Kissing, licking, and sucking at random. Enjoying the muscles twitching under his attention. Enjoying the quiet whimpers and heavier breathing.
Thor wanted to take his time exploring every inch of skin available to him and paying it rightful reverence. But he knew the second he released Loki’s hands, Loki would fight, fiery as he was.
And Loki did not surprise.
Ready for him, Thor avoided the initial swing and used Loki’s hip to spin him onto his stomach. The new position limited the range of Loki’s attacks, even though it limited Thor’s exploration in turn.
Thor nuzzled his hot cheek between Loki’s shoulder blades, enjoying the refreshing feel of Loki’s cool body. Then he kissed his way down along Loki’s spine, detouring on occasion to appreciate the expanses of taut muscles, or the swooping, spiraling lines.
Thor gripped Loki’s hips to arrange him in a more agreeable angle, but the jotun bucked. Rather than gain any ground, Loki only managed to rub against Thor’s painfully hard erection.
“Loki,” Thor chided, but was unable to resist rubbing against Loki in turn. Loki inhaled at the sensation and stilled. A strange expression crossed Loki’s face, but it fled before Thor could fully place it.
Leaning back while keeping Loki’s thighs pinned under him, Thor found the clasp to Loki’s loincloth. It came off with a sharp tear and left Loki fully exposed beneath him.
Loki’s ass, like the rest of him, was utterly perfect. The lines that decorated his body also continued over the firm but round flesh. Thor took the opportunity to knead the cheeks before pulling them apart to fully reveal Loki to him.
Loki squirmed again, the strange expression back on his face.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
Thor regarded him.
“Has anyone ever claimed you like this?” Thor asked at length.
“Claimed me? As if being on the bottom signals any less power. Simple beast, your arrogance will be your downfall.”
“That did not answer my question,” Thor pointed out, releasing Loki long enough to reach for the jar of oil at his bedside. “But I will prepare you carefully all the same.”
Thor dipped a finger in oil before drawing it along the rim of the furled muscle. Loki twitched and let out a hissing breath.
“I will make you live to regret this, you…”
Thor pushed in until his last knuckle. For his cool skin, Loki’s inner walls felt gratifyingly hot. Thor’s cock ached with anticipation now. He bit his lip to keep still and allow Loki to adjust to the stretch. When Loki did, his sharp threats continued.
“…when I’m free, it’s you I’ll parade about in chains and…”
Thor slid his finger out, watching Loki’s face to gauge discomfort, and pushed back in.
“…and put you on display like the animal you are, Asgardian. I will…”
Loki finally stopped his fits and bouts of angry words, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily. Thor wet a second finger and pushed it home. Loki’s mouth fell open, his lavender lips rounded.
“Relax,” Thor reminded Loki (and himself), rubbing a soothing hand along Loki’s flank. Loki squirmed in protest, then whined as a result of his own abortive movements. “Relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You think you could actually hurt me? Fool.”
Despite Loki’s words, he was still unbelievably tight around Thor’s fingers. Thor knew he had to continue slowly for now. Another withdrawal. Another push in, a spread of his fingers, and slowly gaining more ground.
Thor felt dizzy with want, his cock already leaking precum against his thigh. Just the sight of Loki like this threatened to tip him over the edge like an adolescent boy. Loki had been right. Even on the bottom, he could easily control Thor if he tried.
Thor was playing with fire.
“You are beautiful like this,” Thor said quietly, reverently, as he finally worked a third finger in.
Loki scoffed in response, as if Thor meant it as a jest.
“Did no one in Jotunheim ever appreciate your beauty?” Thor asked in earnest.
“I needn’t beauty. I had skill. Magic.”
“No, and yet you have both.”
“And you’d keep me as a glorified pet.” Loki snapped, but then immediately let out a mewling noise as Thor pressed along his sensitive bundle of nerves. His hips bucked into the bed beneath them, and Thor felt certain now that Loki’s own cock had hardened from the handling.
Thor knew better than to acknowledge it, knew that the jotun would be more mortified and angrier about his body’s reaction than anything else. There would be plenty of time to help Loki find pleasure in the future.
“Not as a pet, no,” Thor said. Then, “Were your skills as a sorcerer the reason you were in the palace in Utgard?”
Loki’s eyes snapped open and then narrowed.
“You are truly a moron,” Loki said.
Thor sighed and let any conversation lapse into silence as he continued to prepare Loki. Thor had an impressive girth and would not be able to stop once he started. Loki, though, apparently grew inpatient.
“Just do it! I’m sick of being crushed beneath your pink, sweaty body.”
Thor considered whether Loki was ready or just too stubborn to admit vulnerability. But his cock ached, and three fingers slid home without resistance, so Thor gave in. He quickly unlaced his breeches, partially expecting Loki to use the opportunity to bolt. But Loki only shifted uncertainly, his veneer of confidence wavering.
Once his breeches were off, Thor wet himself generously with oil and grabbed one of Loki’s hips.
“Do not be afraid,” Thor instructed. “Do your best to relax and bear against me.”
“Afraid of you? Hardly…”
Thor took himself in hand and pushed, breaching the tight ring of muscle that guarded Loki’s entrance. The jotun’s words broke off as he gasped. Thor worked forward with shallow thrusts, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing into Loki’s body. And the feeling was transcendent. When their hips finally connected, Thor moaned into Loki’s hair.
The jotun whined below him, straining to adjust to the intrusion. Loki’s squirming threatened to push Thor over the edge, and he bit into the meat of Loki’s shoulder. Loki stilled, but for his panting, and they both took the same moments to calm.
When the overwhelming urge to climax tapered enough, Thor rocked his hips. Pleasure still bloomed white behind his eyelids, but he found a pattern of thrusting.
Thor knew this would be exquisite.
But this was otherworldly.
Better than he ever expected—than he could even comprehend in words. Norns, this was something else.
“Loki, you feel so good,” Thor moaned, rubbing his forehead against the cool skin of Loki’s shoulder.
The room filled with the steady slap of skin on skin, the creak of his bed frame as it jerked forward and back.
The beginning of a thunderstorm started outside, first rain and a few distant cracks of thunder. Thor rapidly approached his peak again, desperate to reach it but more desperate to put it off. He’d have this moment last forever—the perfect clench of Loki’s body around him as he pistoned in and out.
The shutters to his room blew open, and a vase shattered somewhere in the distance. The headboard slammed against the wall repeatedly, and Loki grunted in unison with the impacts.
“Loki. Loki,” Thor repeated his name, holding tight to the jotun as his world devolved into waves of bliss. His hips stuttered, and Thor drove into Loki hard, held him harder, as he spilled.
Thor had just enough mind not to crush Loki, pulling out and collapsing beside him, but nothing more. His entire body hummed with pleasure, buzzed with happiness. He felt drunk on the sweetest nectar.
His head cleared very slowly. He shifted to his side, reached out and pulled Loki flush against him.
“Loki,” his voice was hoarse, “You are…exquisite.”
Loki jammed an elbow in Thor’s gut, but not strong enough to cause any discomfort. At long last, it seemed Loki was too spent to keep fighting. A momentary ceasefire. The end of a battle, but not the war.
“And you are an animal,” Loki said, sounding too tired to be truly biting.
His hair had lost its order, the plaits disheveled and strands of wispy black locks wild about his face. His eyes were glossy, and his cheeks flushed lavender. No longer polished and sharp, but fiery and stunning still. A guileless smile cut across Thor’s face, and he surged forward to plant a kiss on the jotun’s lips. Loki reared back, but only too late.
“Sleep, Loki,” Thor said affectionally, cupping his cheek. Loki grunted, pulled away, but made no move to run. He evaluated the room, seized a pillow, turned his back to Thor and settled.
Thor gathered the strength to sit up and pull the blanket over them both. He got a better look at his room. Shards of the crystalline vase glittered all over the floor. Rain slicked the flagstones and even soaked the woven rug close to the center of the room. A tapestry, torn from its hinges, had been nearly shredded. It was the aftermath of a pure tempest.
A storm that no one in Asgard would mistake for natural. It’d probably woken half of Asgard, as it was. He hadn’t lost control and caused a storm like that since he was an adolescent.
He’d need to think of the least embarrassing reason for the bad weather, without mentioning Loki. Loki, his wildfire from the icen realm. Loki, his fiery jotun. Loki, his…