Round 8
ROUND 8 IS CLOSED.
Welcome to norsekink!
Keep up the awesome, folks.
Attention:
M ind the new rules that have gone up over the course of the last round.
NOTE: We've noticed that some of the prompts being posted have Thor characters only making cameos or not featured at all. We realize that Thor is closely involved in the Avengers, but we're requesting that ( Read more... )
Welcome to norsekink!
Keep up the awesome, folks.
Attention:
M ind the new rules that have gone up over the course of the last round.
NOTE: We've noticed that some of the prompts being posted have Thor characters only making cameos or not featured at all. We realize that Thor is closely involved in the Avengers, but we're requesting that ( Read more... )
He feels a strange sense of loss at that, and hopelessness.
It’s been years since he first started nursing confusing thoughts about Loki, Loki with his books, clever tongue, and wily ways. Thor’s never known what to do about it, torn between his desires, wanting to push Loki roughly against a wall, wanting to kiss that smirk off that face, wanting all of it to stop, wanting it to never stop, wanting Loki-
-so much wanting.
In the space between inebriation and darkness, Thor loathes himself for thinking of Loki that way, because Loki is different from a serving girl who wants a night with the prince of Asgard. Loki is so much more, has always been so much more than just anyone else. It’s Loki, Loki his brother, his lovely brother, the moon to his sun.
Thor hates that he can’t stop this accursed longing, and the vicious burn of shame that accompanies it.
He wishes he could forget.
Thor thinks he might have a chance, tonight. He’s discovered something ethereal in the corridors, tucked into an alcove, beautiful in the moonlight.
The raucous roars and laughter of the hall are distant, the sky hushed and dark outside. The maiden’s lips are soft against his, her warmth inviting against his skin. Thor tugs gently at the dark braid of her hair, tasting wine and something like summer as he kisses her, pulls her against him.
“You’re very beautiful,” Thor says in awe and something that burns a little painfully like guilt at the thought of Loki somewhere in the Hall, alone in a crowd. He is strangely drawn to the gold-green of her eyes. “I don’t believe I have seen you before, my lady?”
The young girl laughs, soft and shy. It’s a lyrical sound that doesn’t quite match the shuttered expression on her face, in the enigma of her gaze. “Perhaps you have, golden Thor,” she murmurs, pressing a finger against his lips. “You need only try to remember.”
Something in her voice, just this side of challenging and questioning, stirs something within him. She’s pale and wan, Thor notes, drawing the back of his knuckles down her cheek, tries not to wonder at how Loki’s skin would feel like, instead. “You remind me of someone,” he begins, slowly.
“A lover?” She drawls, and she sounds pleased; there is a lilting surprise to her voice which doesn’t quite sound like surprise at all, a wonted shade he cannot place. “Should I be jealous, my prince?”
His head just a little heavy with wine, Thor groans quietly as she mouths down his jaw, breath tickling his cheek, and doesn’t respond to her loaded question. There is something sweetly wrong about this, that he’s doing this on what should be Loki’s night, that…
Thoughts of Loki come to him, unbidden. Loki’s half-smiles, so beautiful on his brother’s face. Loki scouring corners of Asgard to find and comfort him when Thor’s run off in a rage, or when Thor will speak to no one in shame. Their lingering touches, little moments their eyes met that seemed to speak so much more loudly than words ever could.
Loki.
It’s always been about Loki.
Suddenly, Thor can’t breathe.
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There’s something of Loki in this enchanting young girl, but Thor finds he can’t bring himself to go through with… well. He’s never had a problem taking other ladies of the court to his bed before, and the occasional warrior on nights where he’d yearned for rougher play. Right now, Thor can’t look into her eyes without being reminded of Loki, that it’s not her he’s so drawn to, that the one he truly wants is-
“I’m sorry, Thor begins, a little awkwardly, and she stills against him. “I can’t, there is someone. I…”
There’s a flash in her eyes, something like anger and hurt, but she quickly schools it back into nonchalance. Thor blinks, feels like he’s missed something.
“Who?” She snarls, the word lashing out like a whip, and the force of it stuns Thor. The maiden’s long fingers dig painfully into his arms now, and Thor winces.
Her brief moment of fury dissipates almost as quickly as it’d reared. She seems taken aback, herself. Drawn up tight against him, the line of her body rigid with tension, she moves away. “I have to go,” the girl says stiffly as she tosses her braid over her shoulder, robes flowing around her like a mirage. It is startling to see her sweet face suddenly morph into sharp, unhappy angles, and it makes Thor feel absolutely terrible.
“I do apologise if I have… offended you,” Thor tries, fumbling and frustrated. “It’s not you, either. He doesn’t know about what I think I feel for him, and under other circumstances… you’re very pleasant, very beautiful, like a nymph.” Great, now he was yammering on like a fool. “But even if he’s not aware of my feelings for him, it feels like I’m… wronging him, somehow, and I don’t want to do that, even if it means my feelings cannot be returned. Even if it means he cannot know.”
Silence.
Stepping closer, her face looks stark and drawn against the darkness of their surroundings, her eyes wide with what looks like disbelief and wonderment.
“What do you mean?” She asks, breathless, as if she is afraid of what he will answer.
Thor looks away, feeling embarrassment and helpless anger well up within him. “I don’t know!” he blurts, feeling all his tightly hidden shame and yearning burst. “He’s sarcastic and standoffish and he reads too many books and he is a bit of a sneak and to call him a liar would be a severe understatement.”
The girl is staring, and Thor realises he’s been shouting. He clears his throat, lowers his voice, and can almost hear the regret and resignation creeping into his words. “But I wouldn’t want him any other way,” he says quietly. “It’s the way he is, and I wouldn’t want him any other way. It pains me to think of it because we can never be, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting him just the same-”
It really doesn’t, and Thor’s notes with dawning wonder that he wouldn’t.
And that perhaps he doesn’t want to fight it, after all.
The girl raises an eyebrow, true surprise showing on her face now, and Thor trails off into silence, his face colouring. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good with words.”
Her expression softens. “Words were never really your avenue, Thor,” she says with a fond, familiar exasperation. “They never were. More to mine, remember?”
Now that catches him off-guard. “What-”
The moonlight bends as her silhouette shimmers. “You’re such an idiot.”
And then Loki’s lips are on his.
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Ehehe, of course Lady!Loki has to be one of the illusions he falls for~ ASDFGHJKLJHGFDS, Loki, you are such a fucking tease. And Thor, you great big woobie, you. ♥ Also "on nights where he’d yearned for rougher play" hnnnnnnnnnnnguh. I do appreciate when Thor has been with women AND men before, and is not just Suddenly!Lokisexual.
I can't help but wonder if this is the first time Loki's done this to sneakily get his hands/lips/body all over Thor...or just the first time he's used a form similar enough to his own to trigger Thor's feels.
I AM GLAD THAT I DECIDED TO REFRESH ONE LAST TIME. *HOARDS ALL OF THE FEELS AND AWESOME*
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He is a bit of a woobie, isn't he? (laughs) I'll most probably be editing this for flow later if I'm reposting it on other archives, but I do see where he's coming from. OH, THE ANGST?!
To be fair, though, everyone should be Lokisexual. (chuckles)
Hee, up to your own interpretation? My own headcanon follows that this is the first time Loki's mustered any sort of courage to approach Thor, in any form. BUT UM REALLY THOUGH GEE THOR did you not realise you found a pale, slender, dark-haired, green-eyed maiden LOVELY, what even, you're not as thick as Asgard makes you out to be but for shame, brother, for SHAME.
IT IS FATE. AND DESTINY.
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Thor dodges the bite of Loki’s spear and throws Loki against the wall of the ring, a savage turn. Stripped from the waist up, they’re familiar with the feel of each other’s skin now; in battle, and in bed.
It is enthralling, but the way Loki fucks him is nothing like the way Loki tends to fight. Facing down hordes of enemies, Loki inclines towards veils, shadows, subtle uses of magic and trickery to confuse his enemies and to drive them against one another where Thor charges and simply clears everything in his way because he can, an unstoppable force. When they’re tumbling together between the sheets, Loki’s magic sliding Thor’s battle armour off his limbs as they bite and thrust against each other, desperate and hungry, it is wild and wonderful and rough, and it’s everything Thor has ever wanted.
Thor’s always thrown by how brutal Loki is with his lovemaking, mouth frantic on Thor’s as he touches him everywhere, long limbs covering every inch of Thor as if he can’t get enough, as if he is afraid Thor will change his mind and leave him one night as they’re grappling.
As if he’s afraid Thor will somehow come to his senses.
It angers Thor irrationally, it does, weaves a bitter streak of despair through him when he can read Loki’s feelings so clearly on his face. He doesn’t know about Loki’s other bed partners - and Valhalla forbid he ever find out about who has ever shared this with Loki, he would rend them apart - but Loki is uncharacteristically open with him when they’re together at night like two moving shadows, panting and vulnerable the way he never is under the harsh sunlight of day.
There are many things he cannot say to Loki, that he never wishes to bring up. He sees and acknowledges the silent defiance in Loki’s eyes whenever he kisses him, whenever he draws him down and prevents Loki from leaving his bed - an unspoken challenge to continue this, whatever they’ve shared since that night Loki had approached him as a maiden and attempted to seduce him, having resigned himself to the fact that Thor might never reciprocate his feelings. For all his intelligence, Loki could be startingly obtuse at times.
Thor doesn’t answer the questions and uncertainty Loki frames in the path of his kisses, the way he touches Thor too yearningly sometimes, shaking fingers trailing down his chest in wonder as if Thor is but a dream. He is never nervous, never truly indecisive (Odin had drilled that out of him when he was but a young boy, reckless on the battlefield), but he shies away from truly telling Loki the answers to the questions he does not ask because-
-because he, too, is afraid that one day Loki will snarl and damn him, realise he has never really wanted Thor, and disappear as he always does in a burst of ash and smoke. Thor doesn’t think he can handle Loki looking at him with a mixture of revulsion and loathing for the rest of his days.
Sometimes, it feels like Loki’s the only thing that matters.
When they spar, Loki has never expected him to hold back. Thor never does. For all of Loki’s reservations when it comes to actually participating in battle with weapons rather than seiðr, Thor’s discovered to his delight that Loki, too, relishes the dark rush of combat and how it leaves his blood singing with fierce joy.
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“Do you yield?” Thor asks, the clear timbre of his voice ringing in the empty arena, pushing the point of his own spear to a point just above Loki’s shoulder.
Loki smiles, quick and vicious.
“Never.”
The next thing Thor knows, Loki’s kicked his legs out from behind him as the illusion before him flickers and fades into the sunlight - another thrice-damned simulacrum! - and Thor trips. He swears, and scrabbles against the hard ground for his spear, but stills when Loki grabs him and pins him against the wall instead, Loki’s blade a dangerous whisper against the line of his neck.
Loki laughs, throaty and low. “Do you yield, Thor?”
Thor shakes his head in amusement, nudges Loki’s blade away and fists both hands in the folds of Loki’s tunic. Loki bites down gently on his earlobe, gently shaking with his laughter as he moves against Thor on the wall, his body a delicious grind against Thor’s. Thor moans a little, sliding a broad hand down the pale, scarred curve of Loki’s back, delighting in the heat and closeness. “You are impossible, brother.”
He yanks the unrepentant trickster close, and kisses him hard.
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Ungh, I will never not love heavily UST!overtoned physical fighting. What is with you and pinpointing all my kinks/loves so well. I would ask you to get out of my head...but WHY THE FUCK WOULD I, WHEN YOU GO AND WRITE THINGS LIKE THIS?
Also. I see what you're doing there. Don't think I don't. Loki is not the only fucking tease in this. YOU KEEP STOPPING RIGHT BEFORE THE PORN. Evil, evil, wonderful woman. Hnnguh *the incoherent flailing and screaming continues*
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No kidding?! That's another kink of mine too. Glorious. Just... glorious. D: Damn, son, I'll have to wonder if my plans for the last two points match your kinks as well.
Hee, I'm glad you're enjoying it though!
Also, expect more UST. (waggles eyebrows)
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Oh, I know. It builds the, ahem, tension. BUT STILL. *writhes* I can let my imagination follow along after, at least. Mmmhmm, yeah. Like that, Thor...
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Thor surfaces from a dive and blinks the salt water out of his eyes, breathing in the crisp air. “Rather.” He brushes sodden hair back from his brow, turns to look at Loki still fully-clothed on the shore. Thor himself is completely naked as he was born, and the water feels wonderful against his bare flesh. “Not every day you get crowned the King of a Realm, Loki.”
A flick of Loki’s fingers, and Thor jerks back as water is splashed in his face. Loki grins, knowing he’ll get away with it if it’s Thor. He knows it, and so does Thor.
Thor will forgive Loki anything.
“How are you feeling?” Loki’s voice is soft, beguiling like he is. There’s a ripple of something in his words that doesn’t quite sit right, but Thor can’t identify what it is. He can’t really see Loki’s expression now that he’s further away from the shore, can’t tell if his brother is smiling or frowning from this angle.
Surely Loki is happy for him, though?
Making a thoughtful noise, Thor leans back to float in the water. The sun’s just broken out weakly from behind the thick clouds of the afternoon, and he relishes the cool embrace of the sea in this heat. “I’m never nervous,” he ventures. “It is a big responsibility, though, and I am honoured the All-Father is all but entrusting Asgard to me.”
“The mighty Thor, second-guessing himself?” There’s a mocking gasp, and Thor snorts at Loki’s theatrics. “Have no fear, Odinson. Even us gods are just men, and no one will ever know of the way you fretted so in the water, and I shan’t tell the entire ensemble of warriors at the great table on the fateful day of how you sighed like a maiden with unbridled worry.”
Thor hurls a handful of wet sand at Loki, who dodges it neatly and chuckles. “You’re far better at handling your knives!” He taunts good-naturedly, and Thor growls, deep in his throat.
Loki is still laughing when Thor emerges from the water, all sleek muscles and mussed hair, stalking up to the beach with intent. “You will pay for that insult dearly,” Thor vows, and Loki doesn’t budge, only continues to smirk at him in that damnably appealing way of his, a dark eyebrow raised.
“Come on then, Thunderer,” Loki gets up then, dusting off the sand from his clothed knees, takes a few long strides towards the edge of the water and tilts his head. He crooks a finger at Thor then, sly smirk shifting into a smile, sincere and bright.
It takes Thor’s breath away.
“Come at me, Thor.”
Thor snorts. “Oh, I will.” He begins to run towards Loki, bracing himself to tackle his brother and pull him along into the water, clothes and all-
-and lands face-first in the water with a great, undignified splash to the uncharacteristic sound of his normally refined brother whooping and punching the air. Thor scrambles to his feet, sputtering and disoriented, salt stinging his eyes in the most unpleasant of ways.
“Loki!” He yells, wiping furiously at his face, and it’s not long before he can make out the slightly blurry outline of Loki just to the left of him, doubled over in laughter with his legs in the water, too.
“Will you never stop falling for that trick, Thor?” Loki wheezes. “You’d think the last few times I tricked you would have made you more impervious to my shadows.”
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“Shut up,” he mumbles a little, mortified.
Loki is still snickering.
Taking advantage of Loki’s distraction, Thor lunges and pulls at Loki’s arm. Loki cries out in surprise, and they both lose their balance and crash down together in a pile of awkward limbs and helpless laughter. The dark sea-green of the waves around them paints a pretty picture behind Loki’s disgruntled face above him, black tendrils of hair plastered to his cheeks.
He is suddenly reminded of a great wet cat, and Thor cannot stop laughing.
Loki narrows his eyes and pulls his lips into a pout.
“Are you going to sulk, brother?” Thor’s tone is teasing, and he gently pulls Loki down against his bare chest. It feels good, Loki’s wet limbs against his, even through the thin layer of his brother’s robes.
Loki huffs and straddles him, green eyes ever-calculating as he quirks an eyebrow and snaps his fingers, his wet robes melting into the ocean. “No, but I think I just might do something else,” Loki leans down, murmuring against Thor’s ear.
Thor shivers, and Loki drapes himself, long limbs and all over Thor languorously. It’s almost too much to bear, Loki’s skin against his own in the cooling embrace of the waves, with the hushed whispers of the tide around them. If Thor could work seiðr, he would freeze this moment in time: an almost perfect moment of careless joy that he might not be able to relive again when he is king.
“How do you want me, Thor?” Loki says, voice a low curl around his name, the dark seductiveness of his voice going straight to Thor’s cock. Truly, Loki’s mastery of words is something to behold; he has reduced Thor to a whimpering mess before with seemingly innocuous whispers and only the barest of touches, teasing and teasing him until he’d given in, pleaded for Loki to kiss him, take him in his mouth, anything to end the torture of the heated words that had tumbled from his lips.
Thor bucks up against fingers dancing lightly up his thighs, craving friction and the skilled movements of Loki’s clever hands on him. “Please,” he utters, a little feverish already. Thor has learned early on to accommodate and pander to his brother’s whims and ego if he wants something, even in bed. He is not too proud to beg for Loki’s wicked mouth, especially when he knows all too intimately how marvelous Loki’s silver tongue really is when pressed slyly against his heat.
Those who insulted Loki in court on a regular basis by granting him that nickname had not the slightest of ideas how Loki’s tongue could, truly, fell entire empires if he were to work his own brand of magic with his words with it like this, along with the witchcraft of those sharp green eyes.
Loki purrs, approving, and rocks against him in the water. They’re still half-submerged in it, and it feels a little surreal. “There’s a good boy.” He kisses his way down Thor’s chest, palm grazing Thor’s cock teasingly, just a brush. Thor bites down on a moan.
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Yes, he can never really predict what Loki wants to give or take when it comes to Thor. But, he muses hazily as Loki presses a kiss to the crown of his cock, that is probably what he finds most thrilling about Loki and the bed-games they play.
“Future King of Asgard,” Loki whispers, his breath tickling his skin in the most tantalising way, his soft lips an absolute torture. “Fucking into my mouth, using a prince’s lips like a common whore, bucking up like an animal rutting in heat. You enjoy this immensely, do you not?”
“Yes. Oh, Loki, yes-” Thor arches, his body a sharp curve off the water, but Loki waves a hand and his hands are pinned down. His cock jumps, because he’s never not loved it when Loki used his magic against him, rendering him powerless as Loki drank Thor to his fill. “Your tongue, brother, please, I yearn for it, I-”
“Patience, Thor.” Oh, the cruel trickster, laughing at him and kissing him so intimately. He draws his breath in like a sob, wanting and wanting and still Loki withholds pleasure from him-
They are both probably a little mad, two brothers entangled in this labyrinth of carnal delights and sin, partaking in pleasures that would never end. Loki and Thor, Thor and Loki - both so damned and beyond salvation at this point, they might as well go down with the memories of their roughest fucks and tenderest moments, clawing and mouthing at each other like they can never get enough.
They never can.
Loki’s palm is hot against his cock when Thor keens, and that infernal smirk back on his face as he swallows him down.
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But it is amazing, and hot, and oh God, the descriptions of the different ways Loki has 'wanted it' in the past, are just HNNGFF. And wet!Loki is the most delicious mental image I've had today, even if Thor finds it amusingly feline.
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It fits Loki to a T, though! He's so unpredictable sometimes, chaotic, and I think a part of him has known madness all along so it figures that he'll be erratic even with what he wants when it comes to Thor. I find that even in the previous movie and with The Avengers (spoiler-free comment here, just sayin' to those browsin'), he doesn't seem to know what he wants? I don't even know what kind of point he's trying to prove, or if he's trying to prove one. He just seems so lost, and it's like the only purpose he has determined is that of raining havoc and disaster upon the realms, because he can.
Also, unf, wet!Loki. XD I agree completely with you.
So I was complaining for days how I couldn't seem to write anything for the Sherlock/John Big Bang and then I go and churn out almost 5k of Thor/Loki UST/porn in the form of this fic a little over three nights... what is air.
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Thor does not know what Loki has become.
His sharp, pale face twisted in hate and madness ringing in the loud bark of his laughter, Loki is unrecognisable as he smashes Thor to the ground with a swift brush of his magic. Thor can taste blood in his mouth, shudders in revulsion at the feeling of Loki’s corrupted magic around him, on him. Loki had recited a passage from his lessons to Thor, once, about how a mage’s magic mirrored and revealed himself.
Loki’s magic might have been warm and golden-green before, mysterious and full of mischief, but now it just feels slick, like bile, against his skin.
Like death and despair.
The Avengers are scattered around him, engaged in their own battles, too busy fending off dastardly creatures of Loki’s summoning to really pay attention to the fire that is unfolding between two not-brothers, the pain they are both going through.
How much agony and loneliness had Loki suffered without Thor by his side, at the revelation about his past? Thor has cursed himself countless times for not picking up on his brother’s insecurities building like a dark storm through the centuries, for not heeding the way Loki had distanced himself so towards the end, learning to lock more and more of his secrets within the ice cage of his heart, away from Thor. Clueless Thor.
And Thor had never noticed the resigned sadness bleeding through the edges of his smiles whenever he’d turned to look at him. He had so mistakenly assumed that those tight, soft smiles were expressions of the strange, simple love Loki had held for a brother who was more than a brother.
How could he not, when Loki had always looked at him so while murmuring unexpected words of quiet devotion in his ears between his languid movements against Thor’s naked body under the cloak of night, between the reverent kisses he pressed to Thor’s temple?
Loki had spat at him when Thor had returned from his exile on Midgard, telling him that he, Loki, was no son of Odin. He’d pushed Thor away when all Thor wanted was for everything to right itself, to fold Loki back into his embrace and for life to continue in Asgard the way it’d always had. The sheer hate in Loki’s eyes, mingled with misery, had stopped him in his tracks when Thor tried to reach out to him.
His brother - he is still a brother to Thor, still, even if a part of him is fiercely delighted that now, his love for Loki need not be wrong -had planted seeds of simmering anger and resentment within himself so long ago, in his confusion and not understanding why it was Thor, why it was always about Thor, and why Loki was always thrust into the shadows.
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