Boltedfruit Archive

   Thor returns from Jotunheim before any other expected. He returns in a flurry of rainbow light and blood, and Loki can’t stop staring at the stump of his right arm. Where it used to be. Hand gone, forever. The hand he used to wield Mjolnir.

Loki’s heart races. Can feel it in his ears like the stampede of horses as he watches his older brother be carted away by the healers.

Blue eyes meet his in the frenzied haze, the clamor of healers, their parents, Heimdall and Thor’s friends all on the Bifrost—they hold on Loki until Thor is too far to look back.

   “What happened,” Loki asks him later, when he’s back in his own bed. Loki fists the silk pooled around Thor’s waist, leans close so his brother won’t have to manage much in way of raising his voice. “Who did this to you? Who must I kill for you?”

Thor smiles, after everything he smiles. The end of his elbow is seeping red through the tight bandage.

“Brother,” he whispers. Loki draws ever closer. “They are already dead.”

Tears slide down Thor’s full, rosy cheeks and Loki feels his blood run hot. He leans over his brother, holds him tight. Tight enough to draw a pained grunt. Better pain than death any day.

   Thor resumes life as only Thor can. Odin and Frigga fret over their firstborn only so long as Thor will allow them to, which isn’t long in the least. Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg are kept at arm’s length. Only Loki is allowed near at any given time. Rare, for Loki to want, to want so much to be. But that Thor does not push him away, that

Thor instead seeks him out is a change of pace Loki is not unfond of.

“We’ve not done this in an age,” Loki murmurs to his brother when said brother has his face hidden behind his own dark curls. They are hidden within the darkness of the palace’s forgotten commons. Cracked pillars and dusty carpets, abandoned tables set with old wood rather than the gold Asgard has come to know so well.

He raises his own arms, hoping he does not seem too eager, to meet Thor’s broad shoulders.

“Months, only,” Thor breathes, hot on his skin. He draws back to place warm lips to Loki’s jaw. “Not so long.”

“Long enough to come back changed.”

The set of Thor’s brow twists serious. “Peace. I am as whole as I ever was.”

Loki brushes fingers over the edge of where Thor’s right arm would usually have been around his shoulders by now. But Thor simply hugs him harder with the left.

“Peace,” Thor whispers, urgent. “Peace, Loki.”

Loki draws the deepest breath he can muster. “I almost lost you and I was not there.”

“I did not die.”

Loki’s ears ring. “I could have saved your arm. I wish to know how you suffered.”

“No,” Thor tells him, hushed. The arm tightens about him.

Loki struggles lightly in Thor’s hold, and it’s easier now to wrest himself away, the fact of it burning his throat as he chokes down a sob. He needs to know. It’s a desire to know what he could have prevented. A desire to know how much Thor still needs him, even if he denies it time and again when he leaves to battle. Loki can fight too. He can. Thor yet thinks it a lie—

“Calm yourself,” Thor says. “I will come to you tonight.”

He nods. Allows his mouth to brush across Thor’s. Turns and takes his leave, back into the overwhelming light of the grand courtyard.

   Thor does not bother knocking when the sun sets. Loki waits, breath held behind clenched teeth and the thin line of his mouth. He can feel his jaw leap despite his best efforts at appearing calm, collected, unaffected.

But when Thor is there, when Thor locks the door with a sweep of his remaining hand glowing with simple seidr Loki taught him when they were boys—he breaks. The tears gather fast, falling quicker when Thor is there, finally touching him. He falls into his brother’s arms and hates himself for how easy it still feels.

“You should have let me come with you,” Loki pants between kisses. Thor is aggressive, in the best way. Thor grabs at his shoulder, his neck, his jaw—holding his face secure and close while he lavishes Loki with sweeps of tongue and nips of teeth. Something occurs to him then, sudden like a blast of wind.

“You’ll never hold my neck again—not like,” Loki says, the words cracking. “Not like before.”

Thor shushes him, humming sweetly as he works his way down to Loki’s collar to finger it open. Loki grasps the end of his elbow, feeling the grooves of the still healing wound. Even cuts so deep took long for gods like them to heal from.

“We’ll figure something out,” Thor aims up to him as he falls to his knees. He mouths at Loki’s stiffening cock through his leather breeches. He asked Loki once to never vanish their clothes, for he likes the act of removing them himself. “You’re beautiful as ever, little brother.”

Loki inhales sharp.

“Gorgeous, pretty little cock, filling up so well. You’ve missed this.” Thor licks wet spots against him and he strains, feeling like he might come apart all too soon. “You’ve missed me.”

“Gods curse you, I have,” Loki admits, hands gripping at his own coat. “I have.”

Thor tears with one hand at the leather pulled tight over his arching cock. The material gives easily, as if made of paper in spite of Thor’s missing limb. Loki shudders to think of all the power still within his golden brother. All the power that was lost.

“I will make you a new arm,” he gasps. “Gold, to match your hair.”

Dark, pleased laughter flutters up to him from where Thor has buried his face to nuzzle against his groin. Pushes his nose through the dark hair, mouths gently at his balls. He suckles one at a time into his mouth, and Loki feels himself growing wet at both ends. Thor ignores what he must clearly tell from smell alone is all but ready to take him inside. Loki’s hardly touched himself since Thor’s been gone.

Thor grips his breeches and yanks them down, encouraging Loki to step free from them. He mouths at the cock bobbing against his cheek, licking maddeningly at each side and every curve without actually wrapping those glorious lips around where he wants most. Loki tries to thrust forward, give him the hint, but Thor takes the opposite route. He stands and begins pushing them towards the bed.

He undoes Loki’s coat, his belts on the way. They fall piece by piece in a metallic litter to the floor, and Loki cannot help keening anew at each brush of fabric falling free from him.

“You’re eager tonight. Like a newlywed.”

Loki rolls his eyes and slips his hands into Thor’s own breeches, palming the rear he’s missed so terribly.

Thor smiles at him. “I’m going to have you ride me like a bride.

You’ll ride me long enough you won’t remember how to walk come morning.”

Loki shudders. “Is that right?”

“You’ll have to let down your braids. Let the others know you’re spoken for,” Thor says, running his fingers through his dark hair, brushing it behind an ear. Loki feels his face heat, and feels ridiculous for it.

“You’re quite talkative tonight.”

“You like it. Like the idea of the court knowing you’re taken by another.”

Loki closes his eyes, because though the idea of it is sweet, it is an ideal he will not allow himself to ever indulge.

“I’ll follow you to kneel before Odin’s high seat,” Thor goes on. “Let him see I’ve claimed you for my own. For the rest of our long days.”

Loki shakes his head, no.

Thor lies him down, on his back. Loki goes willingly, welcoming Thor between his legs. He brushes aside Thor’s hands to shove down Thor’s breeches as much as he can reach, drawing out the length that springs up to rest heavy and hot against his own.

Thor’s fingers brush his throbbing slit and he moans, from hardly a touch.

“You are my brother, yes. But you are Jotun as well.” Thor’s cock presses against the center of him, pushing his own wetness around. He feels he might die if Thor does not press onward soon. “I’ll wed you. I’ll dress you in the finest silks, Loki. Brother, I’ll commission the finest weaver in Alfheim to make you a gown so green, so long you’ll have to have the entire court carry it behind you. You will walk to me, in the fields we once ran in as children, playing and learning together—” Thor pushes in, finally, finally, and Loki digs his heels into his brother’s back. He can picture everything Thor is saying so clearly.

“We’ll wed atop the farthest hill. I’ll tie the thread myself,” Thor tells him, sounding sure. “You’d let me, too. I know it.”

A tear slips free. Loki feels it run cold down his cheek. He weeps for how much he wants, yet cannot have. Weeps for all the pleasure Thor is causing him.

“Odin would have no say in the matter,” Thor continues on. “I’d put a child in you. Breed you so well, so full, only a fool would deny our child’s claim. Two of the most powerful beings in all the realms, and their heir—a fool indeed.”

Loki’s eyes snap open. “You speak of fanciful things. Fantasies.”

Thor’s eyes shine when they meet his, and Loki realizes his brother means every word and more.

“I saw many things in my time at war,” Thor mutters. He drives in deep and Loki drags him deeper. “I saw our future, brother. And it is bountiful.”

Loki cannot stop the tears leaking steady from him. Cannot tell them apart from joy or sadness or grief that Thor’s dream…his vision, his desire—whatever it is—will never come to pass. Loki knows their happiness is fleeting. Meant for stolen moments in the dark, hidden from all who knew them.

Thor mistakes his silence for pleasure. He rolls his hips in little circles, and Loki arches his neck, feeling entirely too full.

“You like the idea of me filling you up, don’t you?”

“You know that I do!” Loki gasps, grappling at Thor’s shoulders, the end of the arm pressed to Loki’s side in a shadow of an embrace.

“You know I wish for nothing else more than this.”

Thor moans a broken sound, falling against him.

“You’ll drip for weeks when I’m done here tonight. You’ll walk with the shadow of me between your thighs. You’ll beg for my cock to fill you up so full, I’ll have no choice but to return every hour to top you off.” Loki holds him impossibly tight. “And you’ll take me, Loki. You’ll take all that I have to give you and more. You’ll drain me, and I’ll make sure it never leaves you. Stuff you full with it. Put a second cock in you just to make sure when I spill, it stays where we want it to stay, all day long until I can fill you up anew.”

“We’ll use the wooden one you found at market.”

Thor laughs, joyful and watery, an echo too loud beside his ear.

“Exactly the same.”

“You’d really put a babe in me,” Loki gasps. “You’d really parade me about in front of your father.”

“Our father.”

“You filthy dredge—”

Thor turns his face and then he’s kissing Loki. Loki melts into it, wants everything Thor is promising him and more.

“Make me a wife, pretty and supplicant for you,” Loki moans.

“Never supplicant. Asgard will bow to me, and I’d bow only to you, each and every night.”

Loki grabs the meat of Thor’s ass and holds him hard, encouraging the reckless way he’s filling Loki, again and again.

“Mornings and afternoons as well, husband,” Loki adds, and feels Thor’s quiet laughter more than hears it.

Thor stiffens, drives his hips against Loki’s for a long moment and stills. Loki feels him spill, and it goes on forever like it usually does. He closes his eyes and hugs Thor to him, counting the seconds to when Thor must leave.

Loki withdraws from him with a sated grin. He sidles down Loki’s body until his cock is firmly seated in Thor’s throat, two fingers slipping inside his slit. He feels swollen, overused and content. Thor works his fingers only so long until he spills, and still they stay put. Loki realizes he’s making good on his promise to keep him full. Keep him stuffed.

   “You promise me too much,” Loki whispers when Thor helps him stand.

Thor frowns. “I promise you not enough.”

Loki turns his back on Thor. He wants to go on with his night, without being forced to look at his brother’s face for another moment.

“Go and bathe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Thor is silent. Then Loki hears him huff, pick up his discarded clothes, and pad away to the baths.

Loki tries not to weep any longer. But it is hard.

   He is half asleep when he feels his bed dip. He wakes fully when he feels lips at his ear.

Loki turns to regard Thor, wary. His brother’s eyes are lowered, sweeping over his bare shoulder, his back. It is quite unusual for Thor to want to stick around after their…trysts. Thor has seemed different since coming back how he did. Since losing his arm. Loki wonders at it. Perhaps his brother has only come for a second bout. Perhaps the riding he so fondly mused over.

“You are beautiful and dreadful all at once,” Thor whispers, sounded tired and ruined and it shocks Loki to the core. “And I love you more than I have words to say. I meant what I said to you. I always did, always will. What I say in passion holds true beyond it.”

“What happened to you in battle?” Loki asks him, feeling his heart thunder beneath Thor’s searching palm. He has never so bluntly said what he is thinking. “What happened to your arm?”

Thor settles behind him, pressed together from temple to thigh. He places idle kisses along Loki’s spine, and stops only to speak.

“It was ripped from me by a giant so foul he spit piss. I think.” Thor places two more kisses, soft and warm. “I relieved him of his head.”

“Good.”

“I am staying for a while. I am meant to be here for years to come.

Battles are long behind me I fear.”

“You speak of visions, don’t you?”

Another drag of full lips. “There was a seer there. She told me many things. Things I must be ready for. I cannot speak of them or they will likely cease to pass. But you—I can tell you of what I intend. I wish to marry you, if you’ll have me.” It is said so casually Loki almost misses it. “I wish to do many things, but nothing puts into perspective what I have been denying the both of us by hiding how I feel for you more than nearly being ripped apart.”

Loki digs his fingers into the forearm slung over his chest.

“I am staying here. With you, Loki. If you’ll have me.”

He cannot think. Can only repeat the words marry and ripped apart over and over in his mind. It’s insanity what Thor speaks of. But he speaks only truth. Loki is Jotun, despite the glamor he wears near constantly. Thor is Asgardian. It would not be entirely reprehensible.

“I cannot answer you now. Not for a long time, probably.”

Thor nods behind him. He finally lays a kiss at the bend of Loki’s

jaw.

“I’ll wait ten thousand years if that’s what you require of me.”

Loki blinks back tears. Smiles in spite of himself.

“What if it takes me ten thousand and one.”

Thor’s laughter rocks them.

“Then ten thousand and one I shall wait for you, brother.”

Loki turns in his arms, feeling bold.

“You won’t have to wait so long, I think.”

Thor eyes him. “And why is that?”

Loki smiles and Thor blinks fast, eyes flitting between his.

“Ask me properly, and find out.”