fic: Songs of Blood, Songs of Betrayal
Title: Songs of Blood, Songs of Betrayal
Author: punahukka
Fandom: Thor (MCU; Thor & Loki: Blood Brothers)
Rating: mature/R
Pairings: Loki/Thor, Loki/Loki/Thor
Warnings: sibling incest, Lokicest, breathplay
Wordcount: 1648
Summary: Mjolnir’s battle song is a song of blood, and to Loki that kind of songs are the only ones worth listening to.
A/N: A genderswapped remix of Schaudwen's To Be the Anvil for avengers-remix Round Two.
The battle is glorious. With innumerable hordes of enemies, as if driven by a will far greater than their own, clashing with the armies of Asgard it is the kind of battle bards will sing songs and survivors brag about. And yet, once again it's a glorious battle with its score settled the moment the mighty Thora and her Mjolnir gaze upon the battlefield.
Mjolnir’s battle song is a song of blood, and to Loki that kind of songs are the only ones worth listening to.
She waits in her chambers for the feasts to end, since she knows Thora will make her excuses and seek her out sooner or later. Mjolnir is a demanding mistress in ways the young men so willingly bedding the princess of Asgard could never understand, and after drinking so deeply from her power Thora must know she has to use the song still ringing inside her some other way, find an outlet for the fire still burning in her veins. So Loki waits, as is her lot in the cruel games of the Fates.
When Thora finally bangs her door, she makes a show of not being impressed by her company. The young slave she has picked to entertain her earlier still lingers in her rooms, and by the way the man eyes the golden-haired goddess Loki can tell he’d be more than happy to extend his quiet tendency to please to Thora as well.
It’s a game they’ve played many times before, and Loki makes the offer: the slave’s skills in carnal pleasures are satisfying indeed, but Thora’s only sizes him up politely before turning her full attention to her sister, telling her it’s only Loki she wants.
It’s a game and Thora’s move is the right one, no matter how simple a mind Loki considers hers.
The slave leaves. Thora fondly places Mjolnir in front of the fireplace and prods the fire to give the room more warmth and light, both things Loki’s never been too fond of, even less so now that they’re a necessity with her aching limbs and eyesight not quite like it used to be. Without another word Loki lets her robes slip to the floor and settles on her bed covered in luxurious furs and blankets. They’re, too, are more of a necessity than an expression of her vanity.
Loki stretches and can practically feel Thora’s gaze and Mjolnir’s song behind it burning trails on her skin. She would not be Loki if she still didn’t find herself beautiful, but as Thora starts hastily getting rid off her clothes, her teeth ache with how painfully glorious a sight her golden sister is. Where Thora has always thrown herself against obstacles Loki has found a way around them; where Thora’s body is even now an impressive and impossible combination of hard edges and soft curves, Loki has thinned and hollowed with age and what once was slender has now taken a turn towards bony.
Then Thora is upon her, devouring her with her hands and with her mouth, their bodies fitting together in ways both natural and well-practiced. Lust surges through Loki as Thora pushes and pulls and claims, but when she’s got Loki wriggling and begging, she gives her a mischievous grin and stops.
”I will have you,” Thora practically growls in her ear as she fists a hand in Loki’s hair, and it does nothing to dampen her need. “But I want to see you have yourself first.”
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Loki nods and wills herself to call upon her magic. She turns her face towards the fireplace and closes her eyes. When she opens them, a dark wisp of smoke or shadow behind the flames seems to be pulled forwards and forced to take a greater density. It stretches and grows, and finally stands on the floor facing the goddesses.
The shadow-born Loki is Loki’s twin but not the usual kind of copy Thora has probably expected. Beautiful in its youth and blissful ignorance of things to come, this Loki is definitely a male one, a form the goddess used to wear a very long time ago. Unmarked and unscarred, with soft skin, hair so black it shines and bones that have never been broken, the young Loki tilts his head and smirks.
Surprised but clearly amused Thora runs her hand along Loki’s thigh. “And just how real is this Loki?” Whether she’s more entertained by the reminder of times long gone or the hard prick the newcomer sports between his legs, Loki doesn’t care. She knows she’s not the first Thora’s been seeking release from tonight, since the scent of some man’s sweat still stains her skin, but she knows she’ll be the last one.
”Have you ever known me to share willingly?” Her chuckle is humorless even in her own ears. “He’s Loki as much as I am, and once this extension has served its purpose it will become one with me again.” She rests her forehead against Thora’s. “Treat him like you would me.”
Thora kisses her before pulling back and making room for the other Loki. The original one rises to her knees on the bed and gestures the approaching youth to lie down, but is stopped by Thora’s sound of disapproval: “No. I want to see you taken.”
She bites her tongue. It’s a game, and no one could blame Loki for not making a show of herself.
And what a sight it must be, youth fucking old age with more enthusiasm than finesse, although she’s sure the joke is lost on Thora.
Thora’s never been patient, but this time she gives up her role as an observer even sooner than Loki had thought. She bursts on the scene to make a few rearrangements, and both Loki and her younger twin yield without protest. And once Loki does protest to being brought to the edge of climaxing and pulled back from it again and again, her disapproval only makes her companions more dedicated to their tasks.
When the younger Loki comes inside her, Loki has her mouth working on Thora’s sex. When Thora brings Loki off with her calloused fingers finding all the right nerve endings she’s spent centuries mapping, the young Loki grips her hand hard enough to hurt. When the older one lies back catching her breath, Thora finally makes the other Loki purr with her attention.
She watches as Thora rides her male self with passion bordering on fury, and as the young man’s gasps turn to panting, Thora braces herself with a hand on his neck. When she moves it away, the young Loki grabs it and guides it back. With a heady laugh Thora brings her other hand on the youngster’s throat as well and presses down with her thumbs.
She doesn’t let go before the young body is writhing under her, and even then she only waits for this Loki to draw a couple of desperate breaths before doing it again.
Thora squeezes; the youngster looks straight at Loki and laughs with his eyes, a skill long forgotten to her. Thora breaks him and puts him back together, steals his life away and gives it back, and it only feels appropriate.
And they keep going; it’s a mad struggle for power and dominance while their skins melt together and hearts beat to the same song. It’s in the fucking someone they don’t have to hold back with that they find their divinity.
Once finally sated, the younger Loki curled up against her back, Thora smiles at Loki, so open and vulnerable it makes Loki blink back sudden tears and a snappy remark.
“If only you had stood beside me on the battlefield today, my darling sister,” Thora mutters. “We wouldn’t have needed to wait this long for Mjolnir to finish her song.”
Loki huffs, because to her Mjolnir is still singing: a song of blood, now drenching her hands with the flow straight from Thora’s open heart. Having orchestrated the whole attack on Asgardian troops Loki knows better than to fight in the frontline. “There’s a reason I do the thinking and you do the hammering, my love,” she says and it’s as close to a confession as she can bring herself.
Thora kisses her, all love and honesty and affection, a perfect testament to why she needs Loki. Where Thora is a force of nature wielding another, Loki is the gentle puppeteer tugging at her strings, forever balancing between trying to make Thora see and remaining unseen. Loki wants and hates herself for wanting. Have me, she cannot scream, let me guide your hand and I won’t have to keep trying to destroy you to have this.
Loki feels coldness seeping in her veins as soon as Thora untangles herself from the sheets and her male form. Both sets of Loki’s eyes on her Thora gathers her pieces of clothing from the floor along with the robe Loki discarded earlier. There are marks from teeth and nails all over her breasts, back and hips but the goddess heals so fast they’ll be gone before she falls asleep. The game always ends with Thora not staying the night. She calls Mjolnir to fly into her hand and grants her hosts a warm smile before departing.
Loki grimaces as her young twin pulls a blanket over the both of them, but fits the youth in her arms nonetheless. He, too, will be gone in the morning, but for now the manifestation of her choices not yet made will serve as a warm body and a weak substitute for Thora’s presence.
They may not be sisters by heritage, but it is definitely blood they share. There will be other battles, threats so severe Thora herself will be called to deal with them, and what wouldn’t Loki do to hear Mjolnir’s song again?
Author: punahukka
Fandom: Thor (MCU; Thor & Loki: Blood Brothers)
Rating: mature/R
Pairings: Loki/Thor, Loki/Loki/Thor
Warnings: sibling incest, Lokicest, breathplay
Wordcount: 1648
Summary: Mjolnir’s battle song is a song of blood, and to Loki that kind of songs are the only ones worth listening to.
A/N: A genderswapped remix of Schaudwen's To Be the Anvil for avengers-remix Round Two.
The battle is glorious. With innumerable hordes of enemies, as if driven by a will far greater than their own, clashing with the armies of Asgard it is the kind of battle bards will sing songs and survivors brag about. And yet, once again it's a glorious battle with its score settled the moment the mighty Thora and her Mjolnir gaze upon the battlefield.
Mjolnir’s battle song is a song of blood, and to Loki that kind of songs are the only ones worth listening to.
She waits in her chambers for the feasts to end, since she knows Thora will make her excuses and seek her out sooner or later. Mjolnir is a demanding mistress in ways the young men so willingly bedding the princess of Asgard could never understand, and after drinking so deeply from her power Thora must know she has to use the song still ringing inside her some other way, find an outlet for the fire still burning in her veins. So Loki waits, as is her lot in the cruel games of the Fates.
When Thora finally bangs her door, she makes a show of not being impressed by her company. The young slave she has picked to entertain her earlier still lingers in her rooms, and by the way the man eyes the golden-haired goddess Loki can tell he’d be more than happy to extend his quiet tendency to please to Thora as well.
It’s a game they’ve played many times before, and Loki makes the offer: the slave’s skills in carnal pleasures are satisfying indeed, but Thora’s only sizes him up politely before turning her full attention to her sister, telling her it’s only Loki she wants.
It’s a game and Thora’s move is the right one, no matter how simple a mind Loki considers hers.
The slave leaves. Thora fondly places Mjolnir in front of the fireplace and prods the fire to give the room more warmth and light, both things Loki’s never been too fond of, even less so now that they’re a necessity with her aching limbs and eyesight not quite like it used to be. Without another word Loki lets her robes slip to the floor and settles on her bed covered in luxurious furs and blankets. They’re, too, are more of a necessity than an expression of her vanity.
Loki stretches and can practically feel Thora’s gaze and Mjolnir’s song behind it burning trails on her skin. She would not be Loki if she still didn’t find herself beautiful, but as Thora starts hastily getting rid off her clothes, her teeth ache with how painfully glorious a sight her golden sister is. Where Thora has always thrown herself against obstacles Loki has found a way around them; where Thora’s body is even now an impressive and impossible combination of hard edges and soft curves, Loki has thinned and hollowed with age and what once was slender has now taken a turn towards bony.
Then Thora is upon her, devouring her with her hands and with her mouth, their bodies fitting together in ways both natural and well-practiced. Lust surges through Loki as Thora pushes and pulls and claims, but when she’s got Loki wriggling and begging, she gives her a mischievous grin and stops.
”I will have you,” Thora practically growls in her ear as she fists a hand in Loki’s hair, and it does nothing to dampen her need. “But I want to see you have yourself first.”
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Loki nods and wills herself to call upon her magic. She turns her face towards the fireplace and closes her eyes. When she opens them, a dark wisp of smoke or shadow behind the flames seems to be pulled forwards and forced to take a greater density. It stretches and grows, and finally stands on the floor facing the goddesses.
The shadow-born Loki is Loki’s twin but not the usual kind of copy Thora has probably expected. Beautiful in its youth and blissful ignorance of things to come, this Loki is definitely a male one, a form the goddess used to wear a very long time ago. Unmarked and unscarred, with soft skin, hair so black it shines and bones that have never been broken, the young Loki tilts his head and smirks.
Surprised but clearly amused Thora runs her hand along Loki’s thigh. “And just how real is this Loki?” Whether she’s more entertained by the reminder of times long gone or the hard prick the newcomer sports between his legs, Loki doesn’t care. She knows she’s not the first Thora’s been seeking release from tonight, since the scent of some man’s sweat still stains her skin, but she knows she’ll be the last one.
”Have you ever known me to share willingly?” Her chuckle is humorless even in her own ears. “He’s Loki as much as I am, and once this extension has served its purpose it will become one with me again.” She rests her forehead against Thora’s. “Treat him like you would me.”
Thora kisses her before pulling back and making room for the other Loki. The original one rises to her knees on the bed and gestures the approaching youth to lie down, but is stopped by Thora’s sound of disapproval: “No. I want to see you taken.”
She bites her tongue. It’s a game, and no one could blame Loki for not making a show of herself.
And what a sight it must be, youth fucking old age with more enthusiasm than finesse, although she’s sure the joke is lost on Thora.
Thora’s never been patient, but this time she gives up her role as an observer even sooner than Loki had thought. She bursts on the scene to make a few rearrangements, and both Loki and her younger twin yield without protest. And once Loki does protest to being brought to the edge of climaxing and pulled back from it again and again, her disapproval only makes her companions more dedicated to their tasks.
When the younger Loki comes inside her, Loki has her mouth working on Thora’s sex. When Thora brings Loki off with her calloused fingers finding all the right nerve endings she’s spent centuries mapping, the young Loki grips her hand hard enough to hurt. When the older one lies back catching her breath, Thora finally makes the other Loki purr with her attention.
She watches as Thora rides her male self with passion bordering on fury, and as the young man’s gasps turn to panting, Thora braces herself with a hand on his neck. When she moves it away, the young Loki grabs it and guides it back. With a heady laugh Thora brings her other hand on the youngster’s throat as well and presses down with her thumbs.
She doesn’t let go before the young body is writhing under her, and even then she only waits for this Loki to draw a couple of desperate breaths before doing it again.
Thora squeezes; the youngster looks straight at Loki and laughs with his eyes, a skill long forgotten to her. Thora breaks him and puts him back together, steals his life away and gives it back, and it only feels appropriate.
And they keep going; it’s a mad struggle for power and dominance while their skins melt together and hearts beat to the same song. It’s in the fucking someone they don’t have to hold back with that they find their divinity.
Once finally sated, the younger Loki curled up against her back, Thora smiles at Loki, so open and vulnerable it makes Loki blink back sudden tears and a snappy remark.
“If only you had stood beside me on the battlefield today, my darling sister,” Thora mutters. “We wouldn’t have needed to wait this long for Mjolnir to finish her song.”
Loki huffs, because to her Mjolnir is still singing: a song of blood, now drenching her hands with the flow straight from Thora’s open heart. Having orchestrated the whole attack on Asgardian troops Loki knows better than to fight in the frontline. “There’s a reason I do the thinking and you do the hammering, my love,” she says and it’s as close to a confession as she can bring herself.
Thora kisses her, all love and honesty and affection, a perfect testament to why she needs Loki. Where Thora is a force of nature wielding another, Loki is the gentle puppeteer tugging at her strings, forever balancing between trying to make Thora see and remaining unseen. Loki wants and hates herself for wanting. Have me, she cannot scream, let me guide your hand and I won’t have to keep trying to destroy you to have this.
Loki feels coldness seeping in her veins as soon as Thora untangles herself from the sheets and her male form. Both sets of Loki’s eyes on her Thora gathers her pieces of clothing from the floor along with the robe Loki discarded earlier. There are marks from teeth and nails all over her breasts, back and hips but the goddess heals so fast they’ll be gone before she falls asleep. The game always ends with Thora not staying the night. She calls Mjolnir to fly into her hand and grants her hosts a warm smile before departing.
Loki grimaces as her young twin pulls a blanket over the both of them, but fits the youth in her arms nonetheless. He, too, will be gone in the morning, but for now the manifestation of her choices not yet made will serve as a warm body and a weak substitute for Thora’s presence.
They may not be sisters by heritage, but it is definitely blood they share. There will be other battles, threats so severe Thora herself will be called to deal with them, and what wouldn’t Loki do to hear Mjolnir’s song again?