Boltedfruit Archive


Published: 2021-06-25

Category: M/M

Rating: M

Words: 665

Fandom: Thor

Ship: Thor/Loki

Characters: Thor, Loki

Tags: Jotun Loki, Arranged Marriage


“I trust this engagement has withstood the time of decades long enough, Aesir lord.”

Author's Note

I hope you enjoy! And consider leaving a comment at the end of the fic to let me know what you thought.

   It has been a year since Thor has seen the Jotun promised him, and though immortal engagements are long, he is pleased to see Loki has only grown more beautiful.


He is shocked with the ferocity of it. How it hits him, deep in his chest, his groin. His mouth goes dry and he wants to taste the ash blue skin metres apart from his own. But he cannot, not just yet.


Loki inclines his head, bows shallowly in a way any other party would receive as rude if it were not how Thor knew Loki to be. The ice around them reflects light in a thousand ways and plays a special sort of theatre in the glint of Loki’s eyes. He has barely interacted with Jotunheim’s prince, and yet he has gathered small details over the years. Three decades of youth maturing, an engagement solidifying, and he barely knows Loki at all, while knowing nearly everything.


Loki is neat, clever, learned, and mean. He has a kind violence about his tongue and smile, one that lures and then bites, and Thor has fallen for every inch of it. He wishes to know how the sweat of his skin in the morning will smell pressed to his, he wants to know the tang of his seed on his tongue, the spread of it between their bellies.


Loki is greeted by Odin, who takes his hand and presents him to Thor, who takes the palm of his would-be husband gently. So gently. Loki spares him a small smile. He feels sweat collect along the dip of his back beneath the armor he wears, and hopes his face is not mirroring his nerves. So rare, this phenomenon. A year, hardly any time apart at all and yet he feels a child in the presence of a beautiful woman.


Though Loki is no woman, and he moves to hook his arm through Thor’s and leans close enough that Thor can feel the fan of his breath flit across his wrist.


“I have missed you,” Thor says.


Loki leans into him, the smile turning more genuine before disappearing completely.


Laufey stands before the dais of the throne that Odin once sought to ravage, watching Thor and his son with red, red eyes. He is more severe a Jotun than Thor has ever met, and he knows if the war had continued as it had in his youth, he could possibly have died with those two red eyes as the last he saw.


But it is peace time now, and he has the crown prince of Jotunheim gathered close to his side, and he knows, he knows this is right.


“I trust this engagement has withstood the time of decades long enough, Aesir lord.”


Odin raises his chin in a nod of superiority he could never relinquish. Thor can see Laufey tense his jaw.


He feels the nerve of his forearm twitch and Loki presses tighter beside him, a warmth despite the coolness of his skin.


He wants to drag his lips over Loki’s neck, press them to the height of his cheekbones and the curve of his smooth jaw. He wants to trace the lines of his tribal markings with the edge of his tongue and make Loki cry his name as salt traces warm down his cheeks.


Thor wants everything of Loki, and he fears it is not the same for him.


But then Loki tilts his head to him, laces their fingers together under the scarlet stare of Laufey and whispers so only Thor can hear, “I would have your tongue on me as your eyes ever are.”


Thor swallows and feels the heat spread like fire up through his spine, to his face, and he can no longer hold Laufey’s stare.


“Loki, please…”


As Odin, to Thor’s surprise, announces the date of the ceremony, Loki’s bright, lovely laugh fills his ears.


The ice rings coldly as the sound bounces around the dark dome of its ribs.