Oceanus
I'm replying to a prompt on the Thor kinkmeme! (norsekink) I'm anon because it helped me keep the nerve to post and seemed to keep in the spirit of things XD
here's the prompt:
http://norsekink.livejournal.com/2496.html?thread=2179520#t2179520
Thor/Loki, blue!Loki
Sealing Loki's magic means that he can no longer maintain his glamour to appear humanasgardian and looks like his regular Jotun self (albeit...tiny. For a Jotun, that is). He's extremely distressed by this, but Thor, despite his initial shock, convinces him he loves him anyway and doesn't care. He convinces him through sex. Bonus points for Thor being really gentle and telling Loki again and again how beautiful/pretty/sexy he is like that.
with this image provided as motivation
Oceanus
NC/17
Angst, Comfort, Romance, Smut
The color drains from his flesh much like the heat drains from his blood. It is an ink spill over white parchment, a melting of snow into deep, troubled ocean. The dusky tone, much like its wearer, is dark and full of hidden monsters. Loki steps back even as he tastes static on his tongue. It is a warning to the mood of the man across from him, to the man bearing witness. A truth ancient and raw is crawling up the ladder of his spine, eclipsing poison ivy eyes into shocked chrysanthemum.
Denial is first to the trickster’s lips, followed by a swift refusal. He cannot see his own face but he can see his brother’s; the muted horror there is more than enough of an answer.
The process is more agonizing than first thought, the skeins of magic being contained more resilient. Pain twists in him, forcing white teeth to bare from between lips the same color as asphyxiation. There is a war being waged within his being, elemental and fierce. It drags from him a choked scream that he cages in his throat, too stubborn to allow it freedom.
On his knees, nails digging into unyielding ground, Loki heaves and bends. His hair is standing on end but whether this is from his own doing or Thor’s outpouring emotion he cannot tell (and doesn’t try to). Around him the broken remains of his identity flicker, disguised as white spots in his vision that signal a black out. When he comes to again, only a heartbeat later, he knows that everything has changed.
-
An ice giant is he and yet his brother seems the one frozen. Had he any mirth left, any will to pretend, Loki might have laughed. Instead he stares at the golden figure of the true Odinson and wonders that he isn’t blind. His chest in unsurprisingly heavy, congested with spells no longer useful and emotions no longer linear. Indigo fingers tipped with navy nails reach up to wipe the blood dripping down chin from where he has bitten through lip. They pull away blackened and this sight, perhaps more than others, is what triggers the first tang of panic.
There is no more pretending. It is over, this masquerade of Jotun in Asgardian hues. His mask is gone and no matter how skillful his quicksilver tongue is the illusion will never be whole again. Not even to himself.
Especially to himself.
The reality of this is enough to retch sound from his ghostly chest. More than ever the Liesmith feels the illusive image of family shatter. He feels it slipping through his grasping fingers, sees it echo in the disbelief etched on Thor’s face, and knows there is no way to protect what is no longer there. Everything he has known, everything he was to be, fades from his reach like collapsing universes. Wounds left festering and unacknowledged shudder at their first exposure to air. Emotion burns at the back of his eyes, making gaze volcano bright.
By the time he stumbles to his feet and shoves roughly past the awakening pillar of his former kin, the first lashes of lightening have already split the sky.
here's the prompt:
http://norsekink.livejournal.com/2496.html?thread=2179520#t2179520
Thor/Loki, blue!Loki
Sealing Loki's magic means that he can no longer maintain his glamour to appear humanasgardian and looks like his regular Jotun self (albeit...tiny. For a Jotun, that is). He's extremely distressed by this, but Thor, despite his initial shock, convinces him he loves him anyway and doesn't care. He convinces him through sex. Bonus points for Thor being really gentle and telling Loki again and again how beautiful/pretty/sexy he is like that.
with this image provided as motivation
Oceanus
NC/17
Angst, Comfort, Romance, Smut
The color drains from his flesh much like the heat drains from his blood. It is an ink spill over white parchment, a melting of snow into deep, troubled ocean. The dusky tone, much like its wearer, is dark and full of hidden monsters. Loki steps back even as he tastes static on his tongue. It is a warning to the mood of the man across from him, to the man bearing witness. A truth ancient and raw is crawling up the ladder of his spine, eclipsing poison ivy eyes into shocked chrysanthemum.
Denial is first to the trickster’s lips, followed by a swift refusal. He cannot see his own face but he can see his brother’s; the muted horror there is more than enough of an answer.
The process is more agonizing than first thought, the skeins of magic being contained more resilient. Pain twists in him, forcing white teeth to bare from between lips the same color as asphyxiation. There is a war being waged within his being, elemental and fierce. It drags from him a choked scream that he cages in his throat, too stubborn to allow it freedom.
On his knees, nails digging into unyielding ground, Loki heaves and bends. His hair is standing on end but whether this is from his own doing or Thor’s outpouring emotion he cannot tell (and doesn’t try to). Around him the broken remains of his identity flicker, disguised as white spots in his vision that signal a black out. When he comes to again, only a heartbeat later, he knows that everything has changed.
-
An ice giant is he and yet his brother seems the one frozen. Had he any mirth left, any will to pretend, Loki might have laughed. Instead he stares at the golden figure of the true Odinson and wonders that he isn’t blind. His chest in unsurprisingly heavy, congested with spells no longer useful and emotions no longer linear. Indigo fingers tipped with navy nails reach up to wipe the blood dripping down chin from where he has bitten through lip. They pull away blackened and this sight, perhaps more than others, is what triggers the first tang of panic.
There is no more pretending. It is over, this masquerade of Jotun in Asgardian hues. His mask is gone and no matter how skillful his quicksilver tongue is the illusion will never be whole again. Not even to himself.
Especially to himself.
The reality of this is enough to retch sound from his ghostly chest. More than ever the Liesmith feels the illusive image of family shatter. He feels it slipping through his grasping fingers, sees it echo in the disbelief etched on Thor’s face, and knows there is no way to protect what is no longer there. Everything he has known, everything he was to be, fades from his reach like collapsing universes. Wounds left festering and unacknowledged shudder at their first exposure to air. Emotion burns at the back of his eyes, making gaze volcano bright.
By the time he stumbles to his feet and shoves roughly past the awakening pillar of his former kin, the first lashes of lightening have already split the sky.