Work Text:
What Odin took from Jotunheim, he loved in his own way.
He massaged warmth into its limbs, fed it, gave it clothes. He kept its hair long, ran his fingers through those lovely dark curls that reminded him of his eldest daughter’s. He pierced its ears, its nipples, its navel, its tongue. He presented the child to his son, taught Thor how to touch its prostate and fuck its mouth. And the child bride from Jotunheim grew up in the lap of Asgardian luxury, and the icy land of its birth was a long-forgotten memory.
“This was supposed to be my day of triumph!”
Loki glanced up lazily from the book he was reading as Thor barged into their bedroom in a foul mood. Thor dropped his hammer on the floor with a resonant clang and marched over to the bed.
“If it’s any consolation,” Loki drawled, licking his finger and flipping the page, “I think you’re right. Who’s to say those frost giants won’t try again?”
“Was this your doing?” he snapped, swatting the book out of Loki’s hands.
“I was reading that,” Loki began, as Thor shoved Loki’s shoulders back into the heap of pillows and clambered on top of him.
“Did you let those Jotunn scum into our lands?” Thor asked, yanking open the front of Loki’s ornate, gold-threaded robe.
“With what sorcery?” Loki laughed, then winced as Thor’s thick fingers tugged on a gold nipple ring.
“Well, however those spineless cowards managed it,” Thor frowned, “they will undoubtedly try it again.”
Loki reached up to stroke the golden locks of the golden son of Asgard, placating. His fingers tightened in Thor’s hair as teeth yanked hard on the piercing. Air hissed through Loki’s teeth as his slender waist arched off the bed.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Loki gasped, “without defying your father.”
One of Thor’s broad hands clamped down around Loki’s throat, pinning him down. The other hand roughly shoved Loki’s legs apart. To struggle would be useless, since the difference between their strengths was simply laughable. Loki forced himself to relax and go limp under Thor’s grip, only to immediately tense again when Thor nudged the handle of the plug that currently nestled between Loki’s cheeks.
“Still not in the mood?” Thor asked, leaning down and nipping Loki’s flushed earlobe, tonguing the two sapphire studs there. He wiggled the plug and Loki flinched. Loki’s fingers scrabbled at the back of Thor’s hand that squeezed his throat, but Thor only squeezed tighter.
“How does it feel to be stuffed full of my semen, Loki?” he asked, now shoving the plug deeper into Loki’s ass and drawing out a stifled moan from that thin, sensuous mouth. “Or would you still rather be reading that stupid book?”
“Thor,” Loki protested, his voice a barely audible rasp. “Can’t...breathe…”
Thor released his grip and Loki gasped for air, coughing. Thor leaned over the side of the bed and picked up the discarded book off the floor.
“There, go ahead,” Thor said, tossing the book onto the bed next to Loki’s head and flipping him over onto his stomach. “Read that while I fuck you.”
“Thor!” Loki protested over his shoulder, meeting Thor’s piercing blue eyes.
“I said read, Jotunn,” Thor snarled.
Digging his hands into Loki’s hips, he dragged Loki’s ass upward and yanked the plug out, sending thick white coils of cum dribbling down Loki’s pale thighs. Loki pressed his forehead into the sheets with a whimper, reaching blindly for the book. He choked back a cry as Thor bent to bite Loki’s exposed shoulder where the robe had slipped down.
Thor wasn’t in the mood to be gentle. He thrust in without warning, grunting harshly against the back of Loki’s ear as he rocked inside Loki’s ass that had been stretched out by the plug. Loki immediately wanted to collapse, especially with Thor’s weight bearing down so heavily on him, but Thor growled at him again.
Loki grabbed desperately at the book and braced himself on his forearms. Fingers shaking, he flipped it open to a random page and bit back another cry as Thor picked up the pace.
“Aloud,” Thor commanded. “Prove that silver tongue of yours.”
Gritting his teeth, Loki tried his best to focus his eyes on the page. “My proud heart—ah—sues and p-prompts my tongue to...to speak. T-teach...teach not...Thor, I can’t...”
Thor was grinding deep against Loki’s inner walls. He bit down again on Loki’s already bruising shoulder, and the deep rumble that vibrated against Loki’s spine was a warning. Loki’s arms shook from trying to hold himself up, but the price of disobedience would be much worse. Loki forced himself to breathe out and squint down at the book.
“Teach not...thy lip s-such scorn...for it w-was...was made for kissing, Thor, please!”
The Prince of Asgard came with an animalistic snarl and another crushing bite on the side of Loki’s neck, to add to his collection of purple and green bruises. He clung to Loki for a second longer before unceremoniously shoving him away. As his cock slipped out of Loki, a fresh dribble of semen slipped down his thigh. Loki still hadn’t come, but Thor never cared about that. Anger placated for the moment, Thor adjusted his trousers and hopped off the bed, striding out of the room to go argue with his father or throw around some furniture as usual.
Loki finally slumped onto the bed, exhaustion chasing away the beginnings of arousal—though it was not so much arousal as the simple physical response of his body to Thor’s manhandling.
After gathering his energy, Loki just managed to flop onto his back, wincing as his bruised shoulder hit the sheets. He had shown that group of Jotuns the way to Asgard’s vaults with the sole purpose of disrupting Thor’s coronation day. He didn’t expect that they’d actually succeed in stealing the casket, but now he wondered what would happen if he tried his hand at staging an actual coup. How it would feel to have Thor and that perverted old bastard at his mercy.
Loki picked up the discarded book and lazily traced the next few lines. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword...
With a scoff, Loki tossed the book away and curled up on his side. He closed his eyes, curled his thin legs into his chest, and tried to drift off to sleep.
Freshly bathed, Loki sat at his vanity with his book in his lap while a servant girl combed and arranged his wet hair for the evening. She wasn’t being gentle, but Loki would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him wince. His status in the palace was lower than the dogs, and if he wasn’t being despised for being a Jotunn war prize then he was being leered at for being the Prince of Thunder’s whore.
Thor swept into the bedchamber, tossing his hammer down with the usual lack of care for the floor. The servant girl immediately shuffled out of the room, and Loki tucked a wet curl behind his ear as he shut the book and set it aside.
“Still reading that stupid book?” Thor asked in a tone that didn’t care about Loki’s answer. He walked over, smelling of metal and sweat, and grabbed a hold of Loki’s half-finished plait. Yanking Loki’s head back, Thor pressed a rough, open-mouthed kiss to Loki’s lips, toying for a moment with the stud that pierced Loki’s tongue before releasing him.
“I have business to attend tonight,” Thor stated, tugging Loki’s wet curls so they hung loose around his shoulders. “If anyone asks, you will say that I spent the evening with you.”
“Might I inquire where you are going?” Loki asked, keeping his eyes lowered as Thor slipped his hand inside Loki’s dressing gown and played idly with one of the nipple rings.
Ever since he was a child, Thor was always seeking some tactile distraction. Particularly when he wanted to avoid conversation.
“You will say I spent the entire evening with you,” Thor reiterated, and removed his hand.
Loki stood up, stepping close so that he could feel the heat radiating through Thor’s armor—and so that the scent of the bath wafted up from his skin.
“What matter steals you away with so much haste and secrecy?” Loki asked, placing one hand gingerly on Thor’s arm. He could feel the strength of those biceps even through the armored scales.
“I don’t have time for this.”
Loki traced his lower lip with his tongue, immediately drawing Thor’s attention to that flash of pink flesh. “You’re not usually one for alibis and sneaking around in the night.”
“I’m not sneaking around,” Thor frowned, taking a step back. “There are important matters at hand, and I will not sit around and wait for permission to do what needs to be done.”
Loki’s eyes glittered with amusement. “You’re going to Jotunheim?”
Immediately Thor’s fist was grabbing the front of Loki’s robes. “You will speak of this to no one.”
“That was just a guess,” Loki replied, smiling, as Thor’s fist tightened. “But you were never one for discretion, Thor Odinson.”
“Indeed, Silvertongue,” Thor scowled.
He shoved Loki against the wall, knocking the air out of his chest. Before Loki could recover, Thor had already shoved him down onto his knees. Thor’s meaty hands fumbled with his belt as Loki watched coolly.
“Your father would be furious if he found out. You realize this is madness?” Loki added, phrasing it as a question, though he was both certain that this endeavor was madness and that Thor would disagree.
Thor shoved his trousers down and Loki’s lips curved upward as he leaned forward to nuzzle Thor’s half erection.
Thor gripped the back of Loki’s head. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll rip out your vocal cords. But right now I have a better use for your throat.”
Loki rolled his eyes at the crass warning and parted his mouth to take in Thor’s length. Making use of his piercing, he could press his tongue to the underside of Thor’s cock and roll the round metal ball against the thin skin of the frenulum until Thor growled. After so many years, it shouldn’t be any surprise that Loki was damn good at giving head.
But the brute liked to fuck Loki’s mouth and hit the back of his throat until he choked. In cases like this, Loki could only stifle his gag reflex and endure the deepthroating until Thor came. Loki’s lips stretched tight and red around Thor’s thick girth. His nose and eyes prickled with tears, but Loki stifled those as well.
When Thor finally let him go, Loki slumped against the wall and coughed, spitting on the ground. Thor grabbed him underneath the chin and forced his head up.
“Think twice before crossing me, Jotunn.”
Loki’s returning grin was sharp. “I’ll be sure to give it much thought, Odinson.”
Thor’s hand flexed and Mjolnir came humming across the room before landing squarely in his palm. He pressed the hammer against Loki’s tender throat.
“I can crush your windpipe, Loki.” Thor tipped Loki’s face back further with the cold metal of the hammer. “Don’t give me a reason.”
Loki’s eyes were cold glass, but he was careful not to broadcast open defiance. He’d nursed his fair share of bruises and broken ribs to know that Thor didn’t make these threats lightly.
Thor lowered Mjolnir slowly. “I’ll be back before dawn.”
Loki stayed where he was while Thor rearranged his clothing and turned to leave. As Thor was nearly out the door, though, he couldn’t resist one last quip.
“Shall I wait up, darling?”
Thor glared at Loki for a moment. The expression on Thor’s face seemed to show a glimmer of hesitance, but it was only a trick of the dim lighting. Thor Odinson didn’t hesitate. The prince huffed and strode out the door, leaving Loki to pick himself off the ground and massage his sore throat.
Loki set his dressing robe aright and combed his fingers through his wet hair with a sigh. It would dry frizzy and unruly now.
Loki sat back down at his vanity, applied perfume to his collarbone and behind his ears. So Thor was off to massacre some Jotunns, in open violation of the peace treaty. He could even die in the attempt, since even Asgard’s golden boy was not invincible on the battlefield—though his past victories would suggest otherwise.
Loki’s eyes flitted toward his reflection and away again.
He stood up, pulling his robe tighter around him as his gaze fell on the book that he’d been reading earlier. It was a tome from Midgard, telling of the rise and downfall of one more mad king born from a lineage of madness. Loki stared at the leather cover for a moment, then turned away and walked off in the direction of the chambers belonging to Odin Allfather.
Thor could be a jealous beast, but he inherited that from his father.
Loki first picked up on this fact when he was still a child. Loki would sense that single blue eye following him whenever he emerged from whatever dark corner or empty corridor Thor had dragged him off to. As Loki nursed a cut lip or twisted wrist that went uncommented on by everyone in the room, he could feel that eye burning him like a singular sun.
It wasn’t till Loki was a teenager that he finally decided to act on this and see where it took him. One day while Thor was away on one of his conquests, Loki cornered the Allfather in the library, pressed his young body to that perverted old bastard, and asked what the meaning of all those heated stares could be.
Odin could deny all he liked, but couldn’t protest the fact that it had been his ministrations that first taught Thor the pleasure that was to be found in Loki’s body.
After that first panting and quietly desperate tryst in the library, Odin swore Loki to secrecy with all manner of threats and rewards, and continued to welcome Loki in his bed whenever Thor was otherwise occupied. It didn’t earn Loki any noticeable special favors, but he continued to entertain the old man every now and then. A friendless Jotunn in the royal Asgardian court needed all the leverage he could get.
Thor did rage, but his father’s blood could burn cold with a wrath that could destroy civilizations. As Odin swept out of the bedchamber calling for his steward and a horse, Loki settled in the Allfather’s bed with a sigh at how alike the two really were.
“What are you doing here, Loki?” came the soft, plaintive voice of Frigga.
Loki’s head turned slowly as he saw the queen walk into the room. Stupid woman. She wanted to be the kind one, wanted Loki to call her Mother, but her willful ignorance as she approached the bed, where Loki lay naked and sprawled among the crumpled sheets, was truly pathetic.
“Thor’s gone and done something stupid again,” Loki replied, not moving to cover himself. “Odin’s gone to deal with him.”
He wished she would get angry at him, slap him or call him a whore, but no, she was too saintly for that.
She sat on the side of the bed and pulled up the edge of the sheet over his thin body. “You’re injured,” she noted, reaching out to touch Loki’s neck.
He flinched back. “Thor’s doing,” he muttered.
Frigga withdrew her hand with a long sigh. “Thor loves you very much. He has difficulties showing it, but he truly does care.”
Because in this family, rape counted as care.
“I’ll call a healer for you,” Frigga added.
He rolled onto his stomach, facing away from her. “Don’t bother.”
She was silent for a time, but made no move to get up and leave him alone. Maybe she was expecting him to get up and leave, but he wasn’t going to budge until she kicked him out herself.
“Loki,” she finally said. “I… I’ve always hoped you would feel like you were part of this family.”
That elicited a snort from him. Loki flipped onto his side and kicked the sheets off of his body. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he propped one elbow on his knee and stared deep into Frigga’s grey-blue eyes.
“What do you do all day, except wile away your time on embroidery and palace gossip?” he drawled. “Odin sits on a false throne, melted from the stolen gold of vanquished lands. Thor slobbers for it, but he can be forgiven for being a mindless brute. But you, Frigga. Frigga the Foresighted. Allmother. Will you play mother to the monster that parents tell their children about at night?”
Loki chuckled, revelling in the expression of pain on Frigga’s face.
“Granted a monster declawed, reduced to playing the slut—”
“Loki!” Frigga pleaded, her voice stern and a little afraid. “Don’t talk like that. We love you. I love you—”
“No,” Loki cut her off, his voice as icy as the sunless plains of his birthplace, of which he had no memory.
Frigga stopped short, her eyes growing wide as Loki crawled over the bed toward her. He grasped her chin lightly and tipped her face up toward his.
“I’m no more than another stolen relic,” he murmured, “locked up here until you might have use of me, Mother.”
He pressed a harsh kiss to her cheek, feeling the soft mature skin give way beneath his lips. She smelled like roses and lemon oil. Loki regarded her for a moment through lowered lashes before shoving her face away.
Loki swept off of the bed, bent to pluck his discarded dressing gown off the floor, and slipped the silk fabric over his shoulders. He glanced back toward the queen mother, but she was cupping her cheek and staring off to one side.
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
The news followed shortly after, though Loki had eavesdrop on the servants in order to find out what had transpired. Thor was stripped of his powers and banished to Midgard, and Odin remained secure on his golden throne. Soon enough, Loki was summoned back to the Allfather’s chambers. Loki wrapped his slender arms, heavy with bracelets, around the old man’s bowed neck as that silver head slipped into the depths of grief.
Odin wouldn’t leave his bed, and Loki’s place in that bed was well grasped by the rest of the court. Frigga remained in her own quarters, attending to the affairs of the palace with no comment on her husband’s bedridden state (nor his choice of bed partner). Any who sought audience with the Allfather during this time had to contend with the lithe, sinuous presence of Loki, adorned in jewels and luxurious silks. The pale hand stroked Odin’s hair as that serpent mouth whispered in Odin’s ear.
A trip to Midgard was in order. Heimdall could sneer all he wanted, but Loki carried an edict from Odin’s own hand, granting Loki free travel throughout the Nine Realms.
Shutting his eyes against the assault of all that brightness, Loki bathed in the light of the Bifrost for only the second time in his life. The first time was an invisible memory, the half-remembered dream of an infant concubine plucked from the rubble of a conquered planet.
They were keeping Thor in some flimsy holding room, and no apparent attempt at binding him had been made. Of course, no flimsy Midgardian chain could hold the raging ex-prince, even after he had been stripped of his thunder. Only shame and despair held Thor in that chair.
Ox-like shoulders hunched forward, Thor looked like a chastised child. Exile and the decree of unworthiness had broken him. The sight made Loki’s dick hard.
Loki could choose who saw him. He strode into that tiny room in a charcoal suit, crisp white shirt begging to be creased up, dark curls slicked back as if the slightest tug wouldn’t send them immediately cascading around his shoulders. Loki wanted Thor to salivate over him.
The slumbering giant roused. Thor’s golden brows drew firmly together. “What are you doing here, Loki?”
Loki stepped forward, watched Thor’s shoulders stiffen and square to face him. “I had to see you,” he murmured.
“But how did…Who gave you permission to come? Did my father send you? Is he—”
“Your father is very ill,” Loki cut him off, gentle, all sweetness and limbs as he sank slowly down onto Thor’s lap, straddling those strong, sinewed thighs. His fingers combed through the wet, mud-streaked strands of Thor’s hair. Flecks of dried mud freckled Thor’s face.
“An illness? Is it serious?”
Loki pressed his fingertips to Thor’s mouth, barely able to hold back his excitement at seeing Thor’s distress. “Your banishment, it was too much for him to bear. We don’t know if he’ll be able to hold out much longer.”
Thor’s lips quivered beneath Loki’s light touch. When he spoke it was slow, laborious.
“Can I come home?”
Loki lowered his eyes, his arousal threatening to burst at the sight of that wounded, ruined expression on Thor’s face.
“Your mother forbids it. She believes the emotional distress caused by your return would kill your father outright.”
Thor’s head bowed forward to rest, heavy and grieving, on Loki’s shoulder. Loki’s thin white hands slithered up to cradle his temples. The heat building in his loins was getting impossible to ignore.
“Thor,” Loki breathed against his earlobe. “I can’t stay much longer. This is goodbye.”
Thor groaned softly as Loki’s hips shifted against his. “Loki, those men outside…”
“Can’t see us.” Loki pushed Thor’s head off his shoulder and pressed a sinuous kiss to that mouth. “Please, I need you.”
Thor didn’t need so much encouragement. It was a small matter for Loki to vanish away his own clothes and lift his hips so that Thor could nudge his fingers against Loki’s entrance. Loki shoved a hand beneath the waistband of Thor’s Midgardian-style trousers and got him hard with a few rough strokes.
Loki’s teeth were on Thor’s ear, his jaw, his throat. Loki squeezed that racing pulse as Thor shoved himself unceremoniously inside. God of electricity. Loki’s lower spine twinged and shivered as he rocked himself farther down onto Thor’s cock.
“Fuck, Loki,” Thor muttered, his face reddening as he dug his hands into Loki’s thighs and thrust up into that waiting, hungry heat. In this position he couldn’t pound into Loki and crush his weight against him like usual, but the way Thor’s dick hit that sweet spot, with an accuracy that could only come with familiarity, had Loki’s eyes fluttering.
“You fuck me so well,” Loki whined, panting against Thor’s closed eyes and laving the tears that rolled down those mud-spattered cheeks. His own erection slapped against Thor’s rock hard abdomen with every increasingly erratic thrust. “I’m already close…”
“Not yet,” Thor growled, and Loki’s insides clenched up immediately as another whimper pressed Loki’s tongue to the roof of his mouth. This body had been trained to orgasm on command, and as the pressure mounted in Loki’s chest he whined and clawed his fingers along Thor’s shoulders.
“I’m close, Thor, please.”
Thor continued in his brutal fashion, but he was close too. Another snap of his pelvis had Loki’s back arching.
“Thor—”
“Together…”
Thor spilled inside Loki with a quiet shudder, and Loki came all over Thor’s stomach. Loki planted his hands on Thor’s heaving chest and took a moment to catch his breath. Through his lashes he could see Thor’s defeated expression, the tears turning into a more sober despair, and Loki was raring for another round. But there wasn’t time for that.
Loki lifted himself off of Thor’s lap with a wet sound. A wave of his hand set himself and Thor to rights, although he could still feel Thor’s cum dripping out of his ass, and Thor’s stained shirt only had the appearance of being pristine. Loki bent down and gave Thor a lingering kiss. Just as Thor reached up a hand to hold Loki close, Loki pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” Loki offered. Gloating.
“No,” Thor choked out, dropping his hand heavily onto his thigh. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
Loki could laugh. It was far too late to be apologizing so half-heartedly, but Thor always had to have the last word.
Thor still had friends in the palace, and they petitioned that Thor’s banishment be rescinded. Odin would not hear their pleas, but that was not enough to deter them. One day as Loki was taking a bath, Fandral came storming in, chasing away the servants and dragging Loki out of the water. Too coward to drown him.
Fandral slammed him against the wall, hands digging into the bones of Loki’s shoulders.
“I won’t let you continue to poison the ears of our king,” Fandral growled.
“I don’t quite grasp your meaning, dear Fandral,” Loki smiled, reaching out a hand to caress the man’s face.
He continued to smile even as Fandral grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the wall above Loki’s head. Even as the capillaries beneath his thin skin burst like ink drops dispersing in clear water.
“You’re a viper and a whore,” Fandral hissed, the spit from his words hitting Loki’s cheek. When Loki moved to wipe it off, Fandral’s grip on his shoulder tightened and he flipped Loki around so that his face smashed against the wall. Loki’s bruised wrist was twisted behind his back and Loki grimaced silently as a twinge of pain shot up his arm.
“Do you use that line with all your women?” Loki laughed humorlessly, shaking his hair out of his face as best as he could manage.
Fandral leaned in and bit down on Loki’s ear. He tugged hard, and for a moment Loki wondered if Fandral would rip out one of the studs in his ear. It didn’t elicit a feeling of fear though—just a cool, morbid flash of curiosity.
Fandral didn’t rip out the earring. He had too much respect for Thor’s property. He didn’t bother gagging Loki either, because screaming for help would accomplish nothing in a place like this, where a Jotunn’s status was lower than that of the golden peacocks in the garden who dined on tender frog legs and honeyed scorpions.
Fandral raped him hard against the wall and without consideration. When Fandral came inside of him, Loki breathed out slowly, collecting himself before asking whether they’d be going for a second round. If Sif were here to egg Fandral on, they would have used Loki until he passed out, but Fandral on his own didn’t have the stamina or the guts.
Loki limped back to Odin’s chambers, hair frizzing around his shoulders and a face that betrayed nothing of what had happened. Odin could tell, of course.
“My boy,” the Allfather murmured, opening his arms in comforting gesture as he beckoned Loki back to bed. What a joke.
Loki kept his eyes lowered as he slipped his aching body beneath the covers, staying on his side of the bed. Odin patted the covers next to him, and after a moment, Loki slid carefully over and slotted his head into the waiting space of the old man’s arms.
It was only a matter of time before the four slunk away to Midgard like dogs returning to their own vomit. Heimdall let them pass, even if Loki—through Odin—had expressly forbidden any unauthorized travel to Midgard.
Sending the Destroyer after that ragtag bunch was easily done. Easier still was giving the command to kill, even if it meant going against Odin’s express wishes.
The blooming warmth of catharsis, the sheer relief of finally being big and powerful enough to backhand Thor across the face. There was a reason Loki went for something as humiliating, as dominating as a slap.
It almost made Loki tear up, the relief.
It didn’t last. It couldn’t. Furious Odin returned Thor’s powers to him, enabling the golden son to pulverize the Destroyer to iron dust and return to Asgard. Triumphant prodigal son. Loki was dragged before happily reunited father and son, chained and muzzled.
They would lock him away. So, truly, nothing would change. Loki wished they would just kill him. But they were all cowards, in this palace that had been built on the bones of children and their raped mothers.
At least they left him alone in prison. Sure, the guards had their fun with him, but Loki could tolerate their unimaginative assaults. The rest of the palace seemed content to plaster over the fact of his existence, which suited Loki just fine.
At night, Loki nursed himself with the memory of Thor’s face smashed bloody. He imagined Thor’s head split open and spilling into the Midgardian dust while Odin howled in inconsolable grief.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine adversaries.
…
Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge...
– Richard III, Act 4 Scene 4