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Chapter Text

Slowly, Thor comes to. He peels his head from his forearm, the drool having stuck his skin to his sleeve. He looks around the pub to see Volstagg still asleep and Hogun snoring away on a bench. Fandral and Sif are slumped in a booth together. The cards they had been playing with are still laid out, but neither are moving. It would appear Thor is the first awake.

He winces when he realizes the hour. The sun is well above the horizon. The morning is mostly gone. He looks around for the pub-keeper to ask for food, but they appear to have left the prince and his entourage alone to sleep off their celebration.

The hunt had been a good one. It had also been a blessed break in the routine. Jotunheim had been sending raids into Alfheim, which was only an ally by proxy through Vanir. Odin had been doing delicate diplomacy to keep Asgard from the war brewing between Vanaheim and Jotunheim. In this, Thor has had his part; mostly to sit in those diplomacy meetings and appear attentive.

He enjoys Asgard in winter. It is quieter than usual; the Aesir are strong people but ultimately people of comfort. Doors that would be open in the summer months are shut and shudders are drawn tight over windows. Thor is mostly alone as he walks down the street.

He turns a corner and something makes him stop. A man is riding a horse, dressed in a wolf skin cloak with his dark hair braided and pulled high on his head. While a male rider is not unusual, the shape of his face is. Between his intelligent blue eyes and strong cheekbones, there is not one unpleasant feature. Air leaves Thor’s lungs as if he’s been punched and his loins stir as if he’s been touched.

The stranger dismounts on the causeway. He is peering into the shops, clearly looking for something, and his frown deepens as he continues not to find what he’s looking for. Then he sees Thor along the way. He looks surprised.

Asgardians do not have to kneel for the crown prince in informal settings. And when they do, it usually makes Thor very uncomfortable. He finds it is not the case when this beautiful stranger kneels. “Prince Thor,” the stranger intones. His voice is musical, accented in an undefinable way.

“Please, stand,” Thor says after coming to stand before him. The stranger does and Thor realizes they are of the same height. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

The stranger looks unsure if he should look him in the eyes. Thor gently catches his gaze and smiles. “I may be the crown prince, but I am a man. I insist you treat me as one, so speak freely.”

This does little to bolster the stranger’s confidence, but he does meet Thor’s eyes. Thor finds his eyes drawn to the stranger’s lips as he speaks. “My name is Loki. I traveled through the night and was looking for a place to stay.”

“Rather cold to be traveling through the night,” Thor says sceptically.

Loki shrugs his shoulders. “Rather cold to make camp without supplies. A bear broke my camp two days back and I’m afraid I’m without a tent, bed roll, or anything save the cloak on my back and this poor beast.” He indicates the horse.

It’s a nice horse. He cannot place the breed immediately, but the stock of it is short in the withers and thickly built all around. It looks like the winter would hardly touch it. Perhaps it is a breed from further northern in Vanaheim. The man, though, appears Aesir.

“I was going to fetch breakfast. Are you hungry?”

“I am,” Loki says hesitantly.

Thor smiles. “Then you shall join me! Now come, my favorite baker is this way.” He grabs Loki’s arm and turns him. They walk together down the causeway, Thor lingering a little too long in his touch, walking a little too close. Loki doesn’t seem to mind though. If anything he grows more comfortable the closer Thor gets.

Loki gives him a winsome smile. “Do you always get your way?”

Thor’s smile is confident, “Usually.”

--

Loki is pleasant company for breakfast. He is pleasant company on the return to the palace. Thor cannot recall later what they speak of. Perhaps of Loki’s journey, which narrowly avoided complete tragedy. Then they may have spoken of Thor’s successful hunt. The topic might have even turned towards the political scape. Thor cannot recall, though, because he had been watching Loki the entire time rather than hearing his words.

He enjoyed the set of his shoulders. He loved to trace the line of his spine; Thor was no slouch but Loki carried himself with feline grace. Then there was the spark in Loki’s eyes. He could tell stories with a mere glance.

They are in the receiving courtyard of the palace when Loki hesitates. The grand steps that lead to the halls spill in white marble to meet them. Topiaries, evergreen despite the winter, create an illusion of softness against the rising, palatial walls. Loki takes all this in and then takes a step back. “I must really find that inn,” he excuses.

Thor reaches out to stop him. So often today he has touched Loki. He doesn’t want to stop. “Nonsense,” Thor declares, “You are in need and those who come to Asgard shall have those needs met.”

“I couldn’t impose on the crown prince,” Loki argues. There is a smile twitching in his lips though. Thor chuckles.

“We also have rooms to spare. It will be no hardship.” Then Thor’s smile turns a little feral, “Of course, if you are worried about taking up too much space, you may stay in my rooms.”

Loki’s pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. Thor is enraptured by the movement. “Tempting offer, but I’ve been alone much too long. I can’t promise I’ll behave myself.”

Thor’s mind runs towards lascivious ideas, but on their heels is a memory. Earlier today Loki had mentioned this was not his first journey alone. After his parent’s passing, he had been alone for many years in the mountains to the north and intended his coming to Asgard as a new chapter. Thor feels a brief moment of guilt for his one track mind.

“Then I’ll arrange you to have your own quarters.”

“Thank you.” Loki says.

--

As soon as Loki is settled in the rooms, he throws the cloak off. He is sweating and he begins stripping in the warm room. Keeping his seidr up is no issue; his disguise will not even falter when beaten to within an inch of his life. However, no matter how much Laufey prepared him in Jotunheim, he never learned how to deal with the heat.

“It’s hotter than Muspelheim,” Loki grouses as he turns on the taps. The water is cold from one and he splashes it onto his face.

Not only had Laufey not accounted for the heat, the Jotun King did not seem to have a grasp on the crown prince’s appetite. Loki had the intention of being a mere informant within the walls. He was expecting to be a palace servant, maybe working in the apothecary if such a luxury were allowed a nameless orphan.

There was no contingency plan for the crown prince spotting him and approaching like a starving wolf. Loki had only done what he could. He endeared himself. He mirrored Thor’s actions. But how long will an amorous relationship keep him in Asgard? Laufey wanted him here until the winter solstice, which was three moons away.

He needs to salvage this.

He must.

--

“You’re unusually happy,” Fandral comments the next day. Thor and the Warriors Three are walking to the audience chambers together in uniform. An audience with an Alfheim governor and Vanir chieftain awaits them.

“Today is a wonderful day,” Thor enthuses.

Volstagg laughs.“He just knows it will be a short meeting and the sooner he can meet that wayfarer.”  

Fandral looks wounded. “I have not met the wayfarer. Who is this?”

“A recent arrival,” Thor corrects and then speaks more softly to Fandral. “I met him yesterday morning. He was attacked on his journey here, so I gave him a place to stay.”

“And some of the best quarters at that. He’s in the eastern wing.” Volstagg adds helpfully.

Fandral now looks mortally wounded. “When I asked for quarters in the palace, the best you could offer was the west because you didn’t want anyone that near you. How have I been replaced by a man you just met?”

“You’re simply not his type,” Hogun supplies.

Fandral puts a hand over his heart and exclaims how cruel of Hogun to say so. Thor is thankful for his friends. His parents had been much more sceptical when he told them of the guest he was having in the palace. His father allowed it only because it was so unusual that he did not know how to disallow it. Frigga advised Thor to send Loki to the healing chambers and maybe set his rooms somewhere closer to the other courtesans.

He knows what they had been thinking. He can see that his friends are considering the same thing. Fandral, finding himself, asks. “But what of Sif?”

“I am not seeing Lady Sif,” Thor corrects tersely. His father had said the same thing at the end of dinner. His was more polite, asking if Sif had met this newcomer. Thor understands the message clear enough either way.

“Either way, we are a bit old, don’t you think?” Fandral presses. “Dalliances in youth are fine but you’re a man of state now.”

Thor waits a moment for Volstagg to sweep in evenly; he is always Thor’s staunchest defender when Fandral’s mood turns sharp. However, the red haired man remains conspicuously silent. In Asgard, when boys are training to become men, they are only in the company of other boys for years. It is seen as a way to release stress. But once they don the cloak, such persuasion is meant to be left on the mountain where they trained.

Thor knows this. He knows it better than most because he has to constantly keep his guard up to avoid looking like a deviant. There is something about a flat chest and strong shoulders that sends his mind spinning. Lady Sif knows better than most; they have a marriage pact where she will allow him such dalliances in the future.

Now, as Fandral has so succinctly put, Thor is not at liberty to indulge in these dalliances. So Thor thinks quickly. “I may find him interesting, but I have no such plans. He needs employment and I need a manservant. As you said yourself just now, I am not a boy anymore. A man of state should have a manservant.”

“Very good idea!” Volstagg enthuses. He pats Thor on the back.

Fandral looks little moved but he offers his congratulations as well.

--

Loki’s chambers are moved yet again. He returns from a turn around the gardens to all of his things taken. At first, he believes he has already been discovered. His chest tightens and he touches the blade hidden against his hip. But then a servant in the crown prince’s red livery appears. “Pardon sir,” he addresses, “but you have been moved closer to His Majesty’s chambers.”

Loki swallows. “Of course,” he says as if he knew this was happening. Confidence can save even a drowning man, as his father had said. Granted, all the water was frozen in Jotunheim so Loki is uncertain Laufey knew much about drowning. But he had it about the confidence. The servant leads him deeper in the eastern wing to much quainter rooms.

“Thor rises at the eighth hour each morning. He is to attend meetings by the ninth, as long as the diplomacy sessions continue. Clothes to be laundered will be collected once per day around mid morning and food will be delivered unless specified otherwise. Pages such as myself are always wandering about, so it shouldn’t be difficult to pass along a change in plans,” the servant instructs.

Loki tries to make sense of the spill of words. Clearly, he is working in a servant capacity. He is not, though, a servant of the house. With a jolt he realizes he is manservant to the crown prince of Asgard. If only Helbindi could see him now.

“Will the Prince know his schedule or is there a head of house I should confer with?” Loki asks as he examines his rooms. They are certainly plainer, with the bed and sitting room combined. He can see he still has his own set of baths but the wardrobe is considerably smaller. No matter, he really only had the clothes off his own back upon arrival as per his cover story.

“The Prince should know his own schedule, but if you wish to know, send a page. Such as myself. I am Pyrrh, by the by.”

“Thank you, Pyrrh,” Loki says. The strange shape of the man’s name and flaming red hair makes him think Pyrrh is also an outlander. He wants to ask his origin, but then he may get his asked in turn. As he knows, to keep a cover, the less people know about you the better. More can be explained by ‘I don’t know’ than by fabrications. “Is that all?”

“Thor will return for dinner in his rooms. He asked you in attendance.” He points to a door in Loki’s chamber. It is more ornately carved than the rest with a crouching lion in beautiful rosewood above. “Knock before entering.”

Loki nods his understanding and Pyrrh leaves.

Once alone, Loki finds his mind turning. How has this come to be? Has Thor grown suspicious and wishes to keep him close? Or is this a perversion where he wants the man he is with submissive? Loki shudders to think of prostrating himself, but he must if asked. His homeland is counting on him. In the chaos of the planned Jotun invasion during the winter solstice, he must go to the treasure vault and release the cask of Ancient Winters.

So this is a boon, Loki tells himself. Loki will endear himself and with it access to all of the palace. A filched skeleton key would have been easier, but Loki enjoys a challenge.

--

The diplomacy talks had been adjourned after a tabling of the resolutions. Alfheim continued to be insistent upon Asgard showing force. The Vanir attendants seemed of the same mind. Thor argued himself hoarse about how that is an awful idea, but even he was beginning to feel the fire in his blood. War seemed to be the only thing the Jotuns will listen to.

His rooms are warm when he enters, the heat of the braziers a physical force. The table has been set up as he usually has it, by the fireplace and the couch shifted to the far side of the room. Loki is sitting on that couch now, reading a book from Thor’s own shelf.

“Did Pyrhh help you?” Thor asks in lieu of greeting.

Loki looks up from his book quickly. “Yes,” he says but is distracted. Thor can feel him drinking the sight of him in. The crown prince preens under the attention.

“Are those new?” Thor asks. He crosses the space between them to pluck at Loki’s tunic.  If he stood, they would be nose to nose. Thor wishes they were. “They fit you poorly.”

“My only clothes are being laundered. These belong to someone named Tyr. Do they displease you?”

Loki is watching him from beneath his lashes. Thor touches the navy tunic again, brilliant against Loki’s pale skin, and finds it’s not the color he dislikes. It is the shape of it. It is too large and boxy; it hides Loki within it. He’d be infinitely better off without it. “I shall arrange a fitting, I can’t have my servant in second hand clothes.”

“Thank you,” Loki says. His breath is warm as it fans over the back of Thor’s hand. Thor refuses urge to grab the man’s chin and kiss him, to drink from that mouth. He instead turns towards the table.

“Do I serve you? Pyrrh didn’t mention.” Loki asks.

Thor regards the food. Normally, Thor would serve himself. But he has a manservant now.

“Yes.”

Loki rises.

Thor sits at the head, watching as Loki begins pulling the serving lids off the trays. He fixes a plate, asking Thor if the portions please him, and then with nary a sound he sets it before Thor. Just as a servant, Thor realizes. From a man from the mountains he appears very well trained.

Loki goes to leave, but Thor beckons his return. “Eat with me.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Pyrrh was explicit about servant meals.”

“Is Pyrrh the man you serve or me? Sit, eat, and stop acting so...servile,” Thor grouses. A smile plays on Loki’s face. “That’s better.”

Loki takes his seat and immediately begins taking food. Thor watches the graceful turn of the man’s hands. He should have asked Loki to feed him.

“I would like to know more about my position,” Loki says diplomatically. “I was unaware this particular one was open.”

“It was,” Thor says. “And I thought you’d be a good fit seeing as you need a job and I like you. You also don’t seem the type to poison me.” Although he does, Thor thinks, and that’s half the thrill of it. There is something so forbidden about Loki that Thor cannot stop himself from craving the man and his company. “You won’t, will you?”

“Of course not,” Loki says. “I’m more partial to stabbing myself, when it comes to assassination.”

This catches Thor off guard and he snorts into his mead. Loki chuckles. “I promise not to try to kill you,” Loki assures and pats the back of Thor’s hand where it rests on the table. “Now tell me what a crown prince does all day.”

Thor makes a show of groaning. “Have you ever met the elves?”

Loki had not. So Thor tells him. He tells Loki all about the meeting, despite knowing he shouldn’t. There is something in Loki’s expression that is ravenous for information and Thor feels powerful being the only one able to fulfill that need. Loki is his manservant. He is Thor’s alone. So Thor enjoys keeping Loki on the edge of his seat knowing that he is the only one that is able to do so.

As their meal finishes, Loki begins to take the plates. There is a smaller cart off to the side with digestifs and small cakes. When Loki makes to bring some desserts over, Thor tells him no. Loki turns, expression pensive but carefully so. Thor can barely read his thoughts.

But he knows his own well and voices them. “I do not want that for dessert.”

Loki looks askance. “After the day you had, a good port sounds necessary.”

Thor shakes his head and rises. Since puberty, the crown prince has had no shortage of lovers and is thus one of self-assured sexuality. He knows how to tilt his shoulders, to angle his hips, and to turn his lips so that seduction is clearly writ on every facet of his features. Loki sees the change. His expression falters to one of brief wonderment.

Thor cards his hand through Loki’s hair and leans to the side, whispering in his ear. “There is something else I’d prefer to eat.”

“Thor,” Loki says, but it’s lower in register. He presses his smooth cheek to Thor’s and that is invitation enough. Thor picks him up around the waist and kisses Loki hard on the mouth. It takes Loki a moment to find purchase; he wraps his long legs around Thor’s waist and his arms drape around his shoulders. He is bumbling in the kiss. Then Thor remembers, Loki has been alone .

“Will I be your first?” he asks against kiss-swollen lips.

Loki gives him a dry look. “I may be poorly socialized, but even I know that is rude.” He means it jokingly but Thor feels a powerful wave of arousal at the non-answer.

“I will be,” he concludes and with that surges forward. Loki’s back hits the wall. His breath is pushed from him and Thor breathes it in. He tastes of the meat and the vegetables they had both eaten, but there is something beneath. It is cool and crisp but bright, like the winter sun. He chases that taste as he maps the curve of Loki’s tongue and teeth.

Eventually, Thor grows impatient. He begins the stumbling walk to his bed chambers. He manages the doors one handed while keeping his mouth on Loki. He sucks on his neck and then laves the pinking flesh. He tugs on Loki’s ear with his teeth when Loki moves to pull at Thor’s shirt.

“I am going to do everything. You just get to enjoy.” Thor commands.

Once in his room, Thor throws Loki down on the bed. Again, Loki makes a noise of surprise and, with thin breath, complains “I wish you’d stop knocking me into things.”

“Sorry,” Thor apologizes half heartedly. He quite enjoys the wheeze Loki makes when his breath is shocked from him. Thor tries not to think too hard on it.

As he is working of his clothes, Loki makes a move to do the same. Thor gives him a hard look and Loki stops. He flops back on the pillows, arms akimbo, and gripes about bossy Asgardians.

“You’re Asgardian, too,” Thor corrects as he finally gets his boots off. His pants and underclothes follow in quick succession.

Loki hums. “I guess I can be bossy.” A new sweat breaks on his brow, but Thor doesn’t notice.

Thor joins him on the bed, arching over Loki and looking into those glittering blue eyes. “I look forward to it, but not tonight.” He kisses Loki hard and chaste on the mouth. “Tonight will be your first and I will make it your best.”

“Ruining me for other men?” Loki asks with a laugh.

“Ruining you for everyone,” Thor promises. Then, with both hands fisted in Loki’s tunic, he rends the infernal, shapeless fabric. He presses his mouth to Loki’s chest, tracing his breast bone with heated kisses. Loki makes some comment about Pyrrh being angry, but Thor cuts it short as he suckles on Loki’s nipple.

His left hand works downwards until he can feel the swell of Loki still trapped in his pants. He rolls his palm against it. Loki bucks upwards with a hiss. “I thought you were going to make this good,” Loki complains. He goes to undo his pants and Thor captures his hands, pinning them above his head.

“I’m going to have my dessert first, I think,” Thor muses. Loki glares at him.

To Loki’s surprise, Thor does not kiss him. He moves downwards instead and finally takes off the infernal pants. Loki is not wearing anything beneath and Thor groans. “Norns, Loki, the things you do to me.”

It had not been Loki’s intention to be pantsless. He just needed those laundered as well. Although, if he were scheming to seduce Thor perfectly, it would appear he was on track. Thor takes in the sight of him, cock thick and red against his pale thigh. Thor presses his face into the heat of it, mouth wet as he leaves open kisses along the rosy length.

Loki balls his hands into fists above his head. He wants to reach, to touch back and give back as good as he is getting , but Thor has been rather explicit. As Thor continues to tease him with licks and hot kisses, he finally decides he is still allowed to talk. Thor hasn’t forbidden that. “Will you just have your dessert already?”

Thor chuckles and props himself up so he can see Loki’s flushed face down the plane of his body. Miles of gorgeous pale skin and a strong jaw quivering as Loki fights for control of his voice. “This is not my dessert,” Thor teases. Then he rises, bed shifting under his bulk and hooks his forearms behind Loki’s knees. He puts Loki’s legs on his shoulders and Loki releases a startled squeak as he is raised so that only from his shoulders are on the bed. “This is,” Thor divulges. Then he is spreading Loki’s ass wide with two large hands and breathing hotly over his hole.

Loki tosses his head back, flush deepening on his cheeks. He thanks any god he might worship that he had the mind to bathe this afternoon. He also curses Laufey for not allowing him more carnal pleasures during his training. This really is Loki’s first time and he has no idea what Thor is up to.

For the first time in a while, Loki finds he is actually nervous.

Thor is not nervous, though. He licks a broad stripe over Loki’s crack. Then he begins to kiss at it, working his lips gently and tongue softly probing. When Loki begins to give around his tongue, Thor dives in hungrily. It surprises Loki and his thighs squeeze Thor’s shoulders. It only drives Thor on until he is noisily slurping and sucking. He also uses the precome leaking from Loki’s cock to work the length.

Loki is seeing stars. He had thought it an exaggeration when Byleister was giving him the birds and the bees conversation, but apparently it’s real and he’s experiencing it. He is also marvelling at the fact that Thor is eating his ass as if he were a decadent cake. He desperately hopes he does not expect Loki to return the favor.

With his thoughts buzzing, Loki’s orgasm sneaks up on him. He pushes his fists and shoulders into the mattress and ruts into Thor’s face. Thor takes the enthusiasm handsomely and drags Loki as close as he can manage. Loki comes in thick stripes on his own chest. Thor works him through it and stays on a little too long. When he finally pulls off, Loki is openly panting and sweat is sticking his hair to his face.

Thor stares at him. “You’re beautiful,” he comments after a beat. He leans forward and slots his mouth over Loki’s. Loki lazily kisses him back, letting Thor continue to steer the interaction, and idly wonders why Thor feels the need to play with his come. His right hand is dragging along his chest, collecting it in strong fingers, and then Loki feels those same fingers insistent, once more, at his entrance.

“Oh Thor,” Loki moans as the first finger breaches him. Thor swallows the noise down. They kiss languidly as Loki is worked open upon Thor’s hand. The first is fine. The second causes him to wince and Thor pets his hip in apology. Before the third can be added, Thor takes a pause to get oil. After that, it is so much better.

Thor is on his heels working three fingers in and out of Loki. He can feel the prostate, and ignores it in favor of bringing Loki slowly back to him. Loki has his hair haloed about him on the pillow and his face turned into his upper arm. His smile is soft and relaxed. His cock is slowly filling.

For his part, Thor’s erection is beginning to turn a very angry red. He closes his fingers tightly at the base before releasing again. He wants to last longer than a few minutes in Loki. if it were up to him, he’d want to last all night.

When Loki’s cock begins showing keen interest, Thor begins to rub at Loki’s prostate. Loki’s jaw drops and he throws his head back. “What is that?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Thor chuckles. “Your prostate.”

He pushes at it each time. Loki’s limbs are beginning to twitch and his cock is almost fully hard. Thor considers getting him off once more like this, but his own erection demands attention. He withdraws his fingers from Loki’s loosened hole. Loki stares down at him, eyes dark and hooded. “Who thought the crown prince of Asgard would be such an attentive lover.”

Thor rubs oil on himself. He lines up at the opening, but before pushing in, presses a kiss to Loki’s chest. He tastes some of Loki’s spend there. It is extremely salty and he chases what he can across that chest as he pushes in below. Loki arches.

“And who thought a little boy from the mountains would be so beautiful beneath me.” Thor purrs.  “Maybe I’ll take you back so I can keep you all to myself.”

“You already do,” Loki says. His voice is halting with the force of Thor’s thrusts. His arms are above his head to stop himself from bouncing against the headboard.

“I already what?” Thor growls because he wants to hear it so badly.

“Have me.” Loki moans. Thor finds his prostate again and keeps the focus of his thrusts there. Loki moves his hips to meet him. “You have me all to yourself.”

And with that, Thor comes.

--

The morning is a slow winter’s breath. Thor keeps his eyes shut even as the cock crows outside and the bell tolls the hour as the seventh. He wants this moment a while longer.

Loki is a warm line beside him, back curled like a cat and nearly falling off the edge of the best. Thor’s arm is thrown over his waist and he can feel the sleepy heat of Loki’s stomach. He draws him to his chest and nuzzles into his hair. It still smells of the mountains.

“Good morning,” Thor murmurs before pressing a kiss.

Loki groans.

“Don’t tell me I tired you out for your second day,” Thor teases.

Loki turns onto his back and regards him. “How does that head of yours fit anywhere indoors?”

Thor laughs. He rolls himself on top of Loki and presses their hips together. He is already hard and Loki slowly awakening. The most wondrous of all are Loki’s eyes though. They are beautiful sapphire with a glint like mercury. Intelligent. Quick-Witted. Brilliant. The man from the mountain is a very pleasant surprise, Thor finds, and is thankful for their chance meeting.

“I’d rather trade something other than barbs,” Thor says. He kisses Loki, slow and lazy. Loki returns it sleepily.

When Thor moves his hand down, Loki bats it away. “Oh?” Thor asks, intrigued.

Loki gives him a hard look. “How many tolls was that?”

Thor thinks back. “Seven?”

Loki unseats him in his rush to get up. “I have to go get your breakfast.” He rushes to put on his clothes. His grace is evident, but there are a few stumbles that denote him as fallible. Thor smiles.

“Our breakfast,” he corrects.

Loki pauses on lacing his shirt. His face softens, not to a smile, but to what Thor knows is coming to know as a genuine kind expression. Loki’s smiles appear to be mostly reserved for witty retorts.

“Our breakfast,” Loki amends.

When he leaves, Thor falls back on the bed and basks in the glow. A dalliance, he suspects, this is not. And he welcomes it. Is excited for it.

For, after all, is that not what a prince deserves?

Chapter Text

Their relationship has grown fonder although in public Loki is very astute at keeping his distance. Thor knows he toes the line once in a while, but with that ass in reach, he can’t help brushing his hand against it in passing. Or, if he must give an order only for Loki, to lean in close enough to taste the salt of the sweat by his ear.

Today, the delegations leave, so Thor is finding himself free for the first time in a long while. He is looking forward to a day of teasing Loki until he begs and maybe going a few rounds sparring with Lady Sif. First in order, though, is sleeping in, which is precluded by a certain manservant.

At a dreadfully early hour, Loki is moving around his room.“What are you doing?” Thor asks sleepily.

Loki gives him a long look and puts down what had been in his hands. It looks like a feather duster. “Cleaning,” he says. “This place is filthy.”

“Well my manservant is terrible. Shall I reprimand him?” Thor teases. Loki sighs and turns back to the task of dusting. Thor is beginning to think Loki had meant to wake him.

“Fandral sent a page earlier to ask you to the sparring grounds. A Lady Freya also sent a missive to ask a private conference with you.”

The sparring match Thor could ignore until later, but the Vanir diplomat was not one he could shirk. He groans into his pillow. “What did she want?”

“I believe she means to tell you during the private conference,” Loki says tartly.

Thor glares at him. Loki is angry with him. “Why are you being so rude.”

“I’m not,” Loki argues. He has his back turned, but Thor can see the stress of it.

“As your master, I command you tell me,” Thor states. He rises from the bed and stalks towards Loki. His manservant decides the opposite side of the room is in desperate need of dusting and moves away.

“It is nothing,” Loki demures. His tone isn’t quite right, though. He still manages to sound belligerent. Then he sighs, loudly. “Fine.” he puts the feather duster down and crosses his arms as he turns towards Thor. “Every servant has a day off except me. I would like one day a week to attend to my own things.”

Thor blinks. He had not realized servants had time off. They were always just there; when he was little, he assumed they didn’t even need sleep. Thor quickly apologizes for his oversight. “I’ll allow for one day a week,” he says, “And that is today, for this week. In the future, though, you’ll need to make arrangements.”

“Of course,” Loki says and gives a curt bow. He immediately moves off to return to his rooms. Thor catches his arm.

“Will you not provide me company today as a friend?” Thor asks.

Loki gives him a mild look. “You are trying to put off the Lady Freya and i will have no part in it.” Then Loki reaches out and pats Thor’s cheek fondly. “I’ll return for drinks after dinner and you can tell me all about it, alright?”

Thor leans into the touch. He wants to have him again. He wants to have him so much that Loki could never walk away. But he lets him go. “Until then,” he bids.

Loki closes the door between their rooms.

--

Loki did not expect it to be that simple to get time off. He thought Thor might throw a fit given how possessive he is becoming.. Loki is finding Thor to be a rose bramble of thorns and the most beautiful flowers.

Those flowers make this guise well worth it. Loki is apprised of all the diplomacy that occurs, as well as that which is left unspoken. Alfheim is desperate for Asgardian military aid. Vanaheim is as well, but plays both sides of the court by sponsoring embargoes on Jotunheim. But Lady Freya has been pushing for war. Loki wonders if this impromptu meeting is another attempt by her to change Thor’s mind.

And his mind is changing. Loki can see it as he becomes more irritable. He speaks of Jotuns as beasts. He curses that the frozen land can grow only frozen hearts. Loki has little love for his people, so it is not difficult to agree. After all, he is intending to betray Thor eventually. Having a frozen heart is an apt description of himself at least.

Nonetheless, he must send word to King Laufey. If timelines are in danger of moving up, the Jotuns must begin preparing. This necessitated his day off. This is why he is riding out on one of Thor’s many horses to the woods.

Seidr has fallen out of fashion in Asgard for centuries, so Loki does not worry when he pulls his scrying orb from the pocket of his cloak. It is a glass ball, imperfect with scratches from use. He digs a shallow hole in the rich dirt and places the ball within it. He draws the runes around it to channel his magic.

The connection is slow, the distance greater than he has done before, but eventually the crystal swirls with cloud shapes. One resolves itself into his Watcher, Sigyn. Her expression is difficult to make out but her tone is clear. She is worried. “What are you doing?”

“Scrying?” Loki offers.

Sigyn huffs, annoyed. “We heard from our friends in Alfheim that some foreigner is the new, mysterious manservant of Crown Prince Thor. His description sounded very much like you. What happened to the plan?”

“The crown prince happened,” Loki hisses in return. “He practically threw himself at me when I entered the palace and this is the only way not to raise suspicion.”

“Are you being watched?” she whispers conspiratorially.

“No,” Loki glances around, The forest is still and the detecting spell he did earlier had shown only a few curious deer nearby. He reminds himself seidr is almost dead in Asgard. It does little to dispel the distinct feeling of eyes on him. “I called to tell of news that none of your elven whores could tell you.”

Sigyn’s attention is rapt.

Loki leans in and keeps his voice low. “The crown prince is being swayed towards war and the Vanir keep pressing him. I think he will crack soon. Jotunheim must prepare for an invasion.”

“He wouldn’t dare strike first,” Sigyn says but then her voice drifts off. She is shouting at someone further off. “Is that all?” she asks.

Loki shrugs. “The rumors of his cock weren’t far off. He is the god of fertility.”

“Does he know how to use it?” Sigyn asks. Loki can hear her smiling, miles away in the cold mountains. He briefly feels a pain in his chest and he desperately wants to be there. Not here, sweating his balls off.

“He does. I’ll tell you all about it when I’m back.”

SIgyn nods. Briefly, she confers with someone outside of Loki’s scry. She returns, her tone professional and deserving of her position as a key Watcher. “We will make arrangements deserving this new information on our end. You are to hold your position and keep with the plan. Check in weekly if you can. Do not raise suspicion.”

“Any advice?” Loki asks as a last bit.

“Ride him. I’m sure he’d enjoy that. And don’t get caught, Loki.”

“I won’t,” Loki promises. But it is broken in the same breath, for unbeknownst to the two Jotuns, there was another watching their conversation.

--

It is late in the hour when Thor is finally able to extricate himself from Freya’s rooms. They had discussed the impending war for hours. Usually, in private, Thor would easily side with Freya. From what he’s heard of the raids and by Asgardian history, Jotunheim is now his enemy.

But war is not the answer. Thor has had little turn in his heart for the Jotuns. He agreed with all of Freya’s points of the cruelty and primitiveness of the race. However, when he thought of war, he found himself quickly changing track. War is unthinkable, now, and for one reason: Loki does not deserve it.

He came down from the mountains only to what? Be dragged by Thor--for he could not be away, not for long--to the frontlines to see the bloody theater of war? He would be in danger, too. Thor would be distracted. He would rage like Achilles if Loki ever got hurt.

So war is out of the question and he spent the past few hours turning Freya’s opinion towards more diplomatic channels. The idea of games between the worlds caught her attention. Perhaps they can do battle without having the nations actually fight.

He is elated by his progress despite the hour and makes his way to his rooms to tell Loki. The night is sweet with wood smoke. The air is chilled in the midnight shade. Thor is about to turn into the eastern wing when a man blocks his path.

Heimdall regards Thor with his all-seeing eyes. He has his armor on and sword in his hands rather than on his hip. All of Thor’s good mood drains. “What is it, Heimdall?”

Heimdall frowns. “I saw your manservant today.”

Thor thinks he knows Heimdall’s concern and laughs. He pats the man on his pauldron. “Do not fear, I gave him today off! He could do as he pleases.”

“Even scry with Jotunheim?”

Thor’s face drains of color. “What?”

Heimdall’s face is a mask but Thor can see anger in his eyes. “I saw him in the forest this afternoon, scrying to Jotunheim. He told them we planned war.”

“We don’t,” Thor says. Then he tries to imagine Loki, knees in the dirt, spilling state secrets to some ugly giant. Thor sees the red of rage cloud his vision. “Are you certain?”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Heimdall says a little sadly, “But I am certain.”

Thor thinks of his options. He decides quickly. “Have you told anyone?”

Heimdall shakes his head. “No.”

“Good, then don’t until I say so. I must personally see to it first.” Then Thor is striding down the hall. Thunder gathers in the sky far above and the wind whips. Loki, who is sitting on the much more comfortable couch in Thor’s room, immediately begins scrabbling to get to his quarters. But it is too late. The god of thunder bursts into the room.

Loki then understands why people fear storms.

--

Loki feels almost silly thinking back to when he thought he may have been caught when Pyrrh changed his rooms. Now, that he is caught, it is so clear that he has been found out that there is not even a shred of doubt. Thor is sparking with energy before him. His seidr is glowing a cool, electric blue in his veins. Loki can even see a little in his eyes.

For his part, Loki is trying to gauge the best exit, but Thor has managed to block all the best ones upon his entrance. The only thing left to the Jotun is hoping the seven story drop from Thor’s window isn’t as painful as it looks.

“How was Freya?” Loki asks carefully.

Thor roars. It echoes far above them and the palace shakes with his anger. Loki takes a step back, but Thor takes three and closes the distance.

“Tell me it’s not true,” he demands.

Loki searches that face for mercy and there, deep and well hidden, it is. He could sigh with relief. Thor, despite his anger, still cares for him. Loki needs to keep it that way.

“You’re going to have to refresh my memory. What must I deny?”

Thor shoves at him. Loki falls back onto the couch. His breath is pushed from him but manages to catch in his throat. He is breathless as Thor looms above him. “That you were scrying with Jotunheim. That you were telling them we were going to war.”

“That you were considering it,” Loki corrects. He flinches when Thor raises a hand, but the hit never lands. It hovers there, an idle threat. Loki searches Thor’s face and sees his window of mercy closing. “Please,” he pleads, “You have to understand I had no choice.”

“I give you house and home, food and clothing, and you tell me you have no choice?” Thor spits. He gestures to the palace at large. “What is this? Is this some prison to you?”

“No,” Loki says and finds he means it. He is more free here in Asgard than he had been in Jotunheim. If anything, he is still trying to escape it.

And with that thought, Loki realizes he has found something to throw himself on.

“I’m not from the mountains,” he says, voice pleading. Loki abhors the weakness in it, but it softens Thor.

“Then where are you from?”

Loki bites back a quiver in his voice. Not yet, he tells himself. Waterworks are for when he’s not buying it. “I am Laufey’s third son.”

The air leaves the room. Thor takes a stumbling step back. “What?” the crown prince asks, “how?”

The truth, Loki realizes, may for once be what sets him free. It’s ironic for a spy.

“I am his third son, yes. My brother By will have the kingship. My second brother, Helbindi, will have the armies. Then what am I to have? Priesthood or this, and you can be certain I will not rot away in some temple.”

“So you still chose this” Thor accuses. He sounds confused and Loki remembers Thor has always had a choice. Loki never did. He doesn’t even now.

“No,” Loki says and there are those water works. A tear slips from his eye. “Maybe once, when I wanted to be something to my father other than the last in his line. But no more. Especially now that I know there is so much more than merely surviving.” He looks to Thor. He sees the open wonder and desperate hope on his face. Good, fertile lands for this seed to be sewn. “I want to be by your side, if you let me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust you,” Thor says, but he is already moving forward. He thumbs the tear away. Loki turns into his hand and gently kisses his wrist.

“Can I trust enough for the both of us? I’ll have you break my scrying ball. I’ll have you bind my magics. I’ll sit in your prison until you realize no one will come for me; that I am here for you alone. They have little use for me.”

Thor sounds wounded and wanting. “Loki,” he breathes. “Oh Loki.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki says. It is bitter, untrue, but he says it as sweetly as he can. “I’m sorry Thor, I will never betray you again. I swear.”

A moment stretches between them. Thor searches his face for any sign of a lie, but Loki looks wholly sincere.

“I must take care of something,” Thor decides. He kisses Loki soundly on the mouth. “I’ll give you your punishment when I return.”

Loki nods, relief flooding him. “I anxiously await your return,” he says.

Thor goes.

--

He sorts the matter out with Heimdall. It is very convoluted maneuvering to explain that Thor had wanted to test the Jotun’s reaction and that this was at Freya’s advice. Heimdall does not buy it. Thor doesn’t expect him to. He just needs Heimdall to have a story in case his father comes asking.

Then Thor hurries back to his chamber, turning in his mind how to deal with Loki. Punishment is in order, but Thor is too elated at Loki’s pledge of fealty to think of even raising a hand. There must be something else. Something so pleasurable it verges on pain.

Perhaps it’s time Thor shows Loki that he can do seidr as well.

--

When Thor enters the room, Loki is still on the couch. The Jotun has forced his posture into a cavalier sprawl. He leans back on the plush cushions and tilts his chin up in silent challenge. But Thor can see the tension in his arms. He can see the tightness in his jaw.

Then Thor sees something flash in the corner of his vision. He turns to see the brazier light dancing a spectral reflection across a scrying orb, sitting on his sideboard. Loki’s gaze is heavy on him. It does not lessen as Thor picks up the ball and inspects it.

“What else is there?” he asks.

“That’s all there is,” Loki says. His tone is even but earnest. Thor drops the ball to the ground so that it shatters into a thousand pieces. A ghost of the magic used in its creation  floats up in a white mist. It tastes like frost. It tastes like Loki and his magic .

“I must make sure there is no more,” Thor decides. His boots crunch on the glass as he walks towards Loki. He lets some of the seidr in him electrify the air. He can feel it dancing along his skin in blue arcs. A tremor of fear breaks Loki’s careful composure. “Strip.”

Loki stands gracefully and makes a show of it. He pulls off  the tunic that Thor had been there for the tailoring of. He slowly strips himself of the leggings that Thor had measured with his hands to ensure their fit. Inch by inch, creamy flesh is revealed to him. His cock, though, is the most exquisite of all. It is long and lithe like its owner, and a blushing pink. Thor fits his hand to the hardening flesh.

The lightning playing across his skin filters through the contact and Loki lets out a shocked moan. Thor leans in close, pulling Loki a bit closer by his cock. “Did you think you could get away with seidr, Jotun? Do you think us to have forgotten our roots?”

Loki’s breath is quickening. He breathes heavily in Thor’s ear. “You may have seidr, but you don’t know how to use it.”

Thor thrills at the defiance but does not forget his prerogative. He reminds Loki. “I am here to punish you.”

“Then punish me,” Loki provokes. The Jotun grabs Thor through his pants and kneads his cock with the flat of his hand. “I throw myself upon your mercy.”

Thor’s blood heats. He turns his head and captures that maddening mouth. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows he should be punishing Loki. he should be bringing him in chains before the court, before his father, before the council. But he’d so much rather be here ; his tongue thrusting into Loki’s mouth and drinking him in.

Thor continues to work Loki’s cock in slow sure strokes. When Loki reaches forward to divest Thor of his clothing, the prince knocks his hands away. Loki huffs. “Will you ever let me do anything?”

“When you behave,” Thor promises.

“So never?” Loki says smiling. Thor kisses it from his face, practically tearing through his lips to taste his tongue. Loki allows him. He keeps his hands on Thor’s shoulders as the prince maneuvers him backwards.

When Loki feels the back of his knees hit the couch, he goes to fall on it, but Thor holds him up. “Turn around.”

Loki does. He then plants his knees on the cushions at Thor’s urging and balances his elbows on the backrest. Thor shuffles behind him. There is a tearing sound that has Loki’s head whipping around. Thor is proudly holding a strip of Loki’s tunic.

When Thor sees Loki looking at him, he glowers. “I said turn around.”

Loki rolls his eyes and looks towards the wall again. He is admiring the pattern of the wallpaper as Thor continues to putter behind him. For the hot punishment sex he was expecting, it’s becoming rather anticlimactic.

Then, Thor slips that torn bit of fabric over Loki’s eyes. His vision is completely blocked. He finds his breath catching. Panic is starting to settle between his ribs. The punishment is beginning , he thinks and doesn’t feel as thrilled as he hoped he would.

Thor kisses his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” Thor promises. “This isn’t going to hurt, but when I’m done, you may have preferred that.” His words are dark. His voice is heavy. “I’m going to keep you right at the edge.”

Large hands find his cock. Loki splays his thighs, allowing Thor more room to play, but Thor has a minded purpose. Something tight is tied around his cock behind his balls. Loki begins to realize what’s happening. “Thor…” he cautions.

Thor chuckles, petting Loki’s pink cock. “Punishment, remember?” Then the seidr is there, electrifying Loki. He groans and drops his head forward on the back rest. His back bows. His thighs tighten. Pleasure courses through him hot and sharp and everywhere.

After a quick moment, Thor pauses the electricity. He does enjoy Loki’s cock, but there is a part of his anatomy that the Valkyrie would even go to war for. Thor stares at the pert ass before him now. He remembers licking into it. He hungers for it now and decides indulging himself is the least he can do. After all, he had a very bad day. His manservant had betrayed him.

He kneels behind Loki. With both hands, he kneads his ass cheeks and lets his seidr flow again. The muscle spasms beneath his hands as he explores and massages the globes. Then, pink hole revealed, Thor cannot deny himself taste. He licks a fat stripe from Loki’s taint to the top of his crack. Then he does it again, moaning.

Loki feels like he might explode. The ring around his cock is throbbing. His ass is literally electrified. And Thor’s tongue is magnificent as it maps his inner channel. He pushes back to have more of it but Thor keeps him in place with his hands. Loki groans low in his chest.

“Just fuck me,” he urges. In another life, he’d be embarrassed with how needy he sounds, but as it is, Loki does not care. He is that needy. Thor didn’t even have the decency to get him off before caging his damned cock. “Please Thor.”

His only response is a noisy slurp against his hole. This is followed by a jolt as Thor’s tongue enters again. The fucker is producing seidr from his mouth. Loki is both impressed and just balancing on the edge of sanity. His balls are heavy and tight.

“Thor,” he warns.

Thor chuckles against him. He wants to fuck Loki, but it is too soon. There is so much he has yet to do. He keeps one hand on Loki’s hip to steady him and other goes between his legs. He massages Loki’s taint, finding the bump as he presses in deep. Loki’s prostate is responsive. Loki stutters his names and a few curses Thor assumes are Jotun in origin.

He continues on, eating Loki’s ass and sending electricity straight into his prostate. Loki’s penis is red and angry in its vice. When Thor’s finally reaches for it, Loki sobs.

“Please Thor,” he begs. And god, if Laufey could see him now. Sigyn at least might find this funny. “Please, Thor, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Thor detaches his mouth long enough to ask. “And who is your king, Loki?”

The prince’s fingers play by the cock ring. The energy is unceasing as it torments his weeping cock. Loki moans as a ghost of an orgasm flies through him. “You. Thor. Thor, you are my king.”

This appears enough. Loki thinks he’ll snap the ring now, but Thor just moves off entirely. Loki weeps into his upper arm, wetting his blindfold. He is surprised when it’s taken away.

Thor slowly pulls him off the couch. Loki’s legs are weak beneath him and he has to lean on Thor as they move to the bedroom. He can see his cock now and it looks foreign to him. It is red and weeping and his balls are so heavy. He touches himself and moans.

Thor watches this and pauses their procession. Loki wonders why he stopped but sees Thor’s hungry gaze on his cock.

“Want me to fuck you?” Loki asks. It sounds a bit like his old self if one ignores the tremor of desperation.

Thor doesn’t ignore that tremor. He feels it ignite something in him,. “Yes,” Thor says and he licks his lips. “I want you to fuck me with that.”

Again, Loki is tricked. Thor does not take off the cock ring. He just ties Loki’s hands above his head to headboard and one leg to the foot board. When Loki tries to move, he is caught at the three points. His whole vision is Thor’s broad chest and huge, hard cock as the prince works himself open while crouched above Loki’s stomach.

“You could fuck me for hours,” Thor moans. He’d prefer Loki fingers in him, but this has to do. It has to do because Loki is being punished and looks gorgeous spread eagled below him. “Maybe I should keep you like this every night and have my way with you as I please.”

Loki tries to hump up, to find friction on the ass he knows is mere millimeters from his cock. He is afforded no movement. Loki groans. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan,” Thor says, pulling his fingers from himself with a wet plop. In a brief moment of sentimentality, Thor leans forward to kiss Loki on the mouth. Loki is angry, all teeth and biting, and Thor pulls away with his mouth reddened.

As he begins the slide down Loki’s cock, he notes how perfect it is. The head flares just to the point of his resistance, but then it is a perfect fit all the way down. Thor sits for a moment, flush to Loki’s hips, and watches the avid need that is etched onto every line of Loki’s face. Maybe he is taking it too far?

Then Loki manages a small hitch of his hips. The thrust surprises a moan from Thor. Then their eyes meet and Thor is galvanized. He plants his hands on Loki’s heaving chest and begins fucking himself in earnest.

Thor wants to keep him like this. He wants Loki bending to his whim but still defiant in his own way. He wants him at his side for millenia. Had Laufey known the gift he was giving Thor when he sent his third son? Will he know when Thor presents him as his advisor upon his coronation? It has only been a month, but Thor feels a connection centuries long. He kisses Loki as the sensation overwhelms.

Loki whines into his mouth. He is beyond words. He is beyond everything except feeling. And Thor decides that is punishment enough. He pulls off for a short moment and works off the ring. Then, before Loki can properly get his bearings, he returns.

It is a few short seconds before Loki is spilling into Thor. It comes for a long while, thick and hot and perfect. Thor fucks himself on the cock, coming just as Loki softens so much he cannot stay inside.

Thor wants to keep the cum inside him. He wants to grow fat on it. Perhaps next time he’ll explore his fertility seidr and make Loki as fertile as the rich lands in Vanaheim. He would spill his seed into Thor for hours.

But that’s for next time. Now, Thor collapses beside his betrayer and lover. Loki is slowly coming to his senses again. He twitches in his restraints and Thor soothes him by petting up and down his side. “I believe this may be mandatory,” Thor half jests, “To keep certain your loyalty.”

Loki’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He turns to Thor, eyes narrowed but pupils still blown wide. “Next time, though, you will give me more warning of your plans?”

“Only if you answer me honestly,” Thor returns sleepily. He is so tired. He lazily snaps the arm restraints but cannot be bothered to undo Loki’s ankle. He breathes in the scent of Loki’s hair. “Who is your king?”

Loki swipes his tongue across his lips. “You, Thor. You are my king.”

“Good, next time you’ll know,” Thor murmurs. Then sleep over takes him, cum cooling on the back of his thighs and his sweat-streaked front pressed to Loki. The Jotun, though, does not fall into sleep. Slowly, his thoughts come back to him. He watches the curtains above him and keeps his breathing slow and steady.

The Winter Solstice is two moons away.

He can last that long.