Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Please heed the tags. I write a lot of skeevy stuff.

Chapter 2: HEATED. Slave!Loki never earns Thor’s love, but he suuuuuure earns Thor's DICK. Porn au. [COMPLETE - formerly chapter 13 of the original Chrysalis] TAGS: dubcon, asshole!Thor, Loki in heat, smuttysmutsmut

Chapter 3: DESPERATE. Helblindi is the crowned King of Jotunheim under suspicious circumstances, and Loki is his hapless charge. King Thor of Asgard somehow gets caught in the middle. [COMPLETE] TAGS: Incest, attempted non-con, forced pregnancy, suicide ideation, Thor to the rescue (sorta)

Chapter 4: EXCHANGE. Odin lingers for years on the brink of falling into Odinsleep, all while being dutifully waited on by his beautiful Jotunn slave Loki. Prince Thor has an extreme case of blue balls...until he finds out what it is Loki wants. [WIP] TAGS: dubcon, asshole!Thor, smuttysmutsmut

Chapter 5: ???? Open to suggestions ^^

Chapter Text

Loki feels the first inklings of it a few moments before he’s due onstage - the telltale prickles under his skin, the sharpened senses, the restlessness that leaves him feeling antsy and unfocused. Loki inhales deeply through his nose: he’d been dreading this since the beginning.

This can’t be happening. It’s not. Loki feels fine. Perhaps it’s just a passing illness. Or a bout of nerves? He really does feel completely normal.

Really.

Fuck.

Loki takes his place at the centre of the floor, beneath the royal dias. Thor is up there, and by the looks of it he’s probably had his fair share of drink. The new girl is with him, her bosom heaving and rosy as she laughs, sycophantically, at perhaps some licentious joke. Sigryn is her name. And if Loki is not mistaken, she’s sporting a new armlet she hadn’t been wearing earlier…

Well, it’s not like Loki cares. Thor might have a wandering eye, but he always comes back.

The music starts and Loki misses his first beat, distracted as he is. He recovers quickly, though his limbs feel uncharacteristically heavy and uncoordinated. Loki manages to pull it together for the first while and put on a half-decent performance, but then midway through Loki missteps, and he has to take a moment to remember exactly what comes next in the choreography. He probably stands there for a full two or three seconds looking like a complete idiot. Normally he’d improvise a bit to cover for himself, but his mind is drawing a blank. He’s never once paused mid-dance like this. He tries a spin or two but that’s a mistake; he’s too dizzy to complete more than a few turns. He’s never felt so ungraceful.

Loki powers through it as best he can, and it’s a relief when the music finally ends and his dance is over. That was the worst performance he’s ever given.

Maybe Thor hadn’t noticed?

Loki bows halfheartedly to lukewarm applause, and quickly hazards a glance up towards to the dias where Thor is seated. Thor is glowering back down on him, a dark cloud of displeasure on his face.

Yep, he noticed.

Fuck.

***

“Well?” Thor asks.

Loki’s fingers twitch restlessly against the flimsy fabric of his shift.

“Well what, my lord.”

“What was that?” Thor says impatiently.  “Do you mean to insult me with your lack of effort, or are you just getting lazy?”

It stings to hear, given that Thor has always been so pleased by Loki’s dancing. Frankly, Loki didn’t think he’d have such a discerning eye, or that he’d even been paying attention, given that Sigryn’s tits were heaving in his face all night.

There’s a long silence in which Thor looks like he’s expecting an answer. Loki doesn’t have one, and making excuses will only aggravate Thor further.

“I’m sorry,” Loki says. “It won’t happen again.”

Thor rolls his eyes. “Face down, over there.”

Placidly, Loki turns and bends himself over until his cheek is resting on the cool, enamel surface. Loki waits until his face is obscured before he sighs, dream-like, and shivers with anticipation.

It feels like an age before he finally hears Thor stir behind him: first his footsteps drawing nearer, then the sound of him guzzling down the rest of his ale. Thor slams his empty stein down right next to Loki’s face, just to be an asshole. Loki watches the motion of a bead of froth oozing down the side of the cup. It’s the last real moment of lucidity, and Loki thinks:

This is really, really bad.

Thor makes quick work of his own trousers and bunches up Loki’s shift inelegantly. Loki can tell what kind of mood he’s in. Thor grabs a handful of Loki’s ass, squeezing it in such a way that Loki’s cunt and asshole are exposed to the cool evening air, making Loki hiss. Unthinkingly Loki tilts his hips up in invitation. He’s so wet he can feel it dripping down his inner thighs. If he had any doubts about what’s happening with his body, they are now certainly dispelled.

Thor penetrates him unceremoniously in one swift thrust, the way he does when he’s looking to get off quickly, as though Loki were nothing but an insentient orifice. He doesn’t even notice how aroused Loki is, nor does he hear the soft, breathy gasp Loki emits.

“Oh,” Loki whispers to himself, squeezing his eyes closed. This feels so….different. So easy. Like his body wants nothing more than to open up for Thor.

Thor is being purposefully rough, slamming into Loki with such force that he hits his cervix every time. He means this as a punishment, Loki knows - this quick, brutal fuck. And normally it would be. Normally, Loki would find this treatment painful. But for once it's exactly what Loki needs.

My mate has so much strength, Loki thinks gleefully to himself. Strength and virility. He will surely sire sturdy, healthy children.

Loki’s orgasm surprises him; he bites into the meat of his forearm to mask the sound of his pathetic groan. He’s had orgasms with Thor before - on the rare occasion when Thor is inclined to precipitate such an outcome -  but those were nothing like this. His vision goes white for a few seconds; all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as pleasure courses through his body.

Loki goes limp and lets Thor pummel into him as he pleases, jerking Loki back and forth with every sharp thrust, a hand on the back of Loki’s neck to pin him down. Thor cums with a growl and it's the single most satisfying thing Loki has ever experienced.

The fuck pulls Loki out of his daze somewhat. He’s suddenly very keenly aware of Thor’s weight atop him and the sharp edge of the desk digging painfully into his stomach.  Revulsion soon sets in at the realization that Thor had come inside him. That….might be a problem.

“Don’t disappoint me again,” Thor says, pulling out and tucking himself back in his trousers.

Loki straightens himself stiffly and smooths down his rumpled shift. His knees are so wobbly they feel like they’ll give out at any moment.

“Yes my lord.”

***

Loki spends the rest of his evening in the harem bathing pool, flushing himself out as best he can and masturbating furiously. He’s annoyed at himself, mostly, that his stupid biology has brought about the present circumstances. He just has to make it through the next few days. It can’t last more than that, surely. He’ll jerk off when he needs to, and with any luck Thor won’t call him to his bed again. Loki can’t afford another slip-up.

How bad can it be?

***

The next morning is worse. Much worse.

Loki awakes humping a pillow - anything to relieve the incessant throbbing. It’s humiliating but at least his cellmate is a deep sleeper.

If he were in Jotunheim, his mate would be here with him, fucking him through this. Not leaving him alone to suffer. It would not only be considered cruel but also a gross neglect of duty.

But no one in Asgard understands. No one even knows what Loki is going through.

Most disturbing are the fantasies. Fantasies about sex he’d had with Thor over the years - sex he’d never really wanted, even. Fantasies about being taken over and over in every possible location and position. In the baths, on the balcony overlooking the city. Even in the audience room, upon the gilded throne of Asgard (Loki dwells on this one much longer than he’d like to admit)

Loki cums but it feels hollow and purposeless. The admonitions he’d laid down for himself the day before are quickly forgotten: his entire being yearns for Thor. And there’s no way to see him until at least the later evening - provided, of course, Thor even summons him at all. It’s not fair that for all Loki has submitted to Thor, when Loki at last needs him, Thor is out of reach.

If only he could get Thor to fuck him. Ha! What a novel problem. Loki has never in his life wanted for sex.

He’ll have to think of a way to get Thor’s attention somehow…..

Loki is jolted out of his reverie by the sound of the door clicking open and closed. Immediately Loki lets his hands drift away from where he’d been palming himself midway to another orgasm. It’s Sigryn, Thor’s latest tart and the last person Loki would wish to see, even under normal circumstances. They lock eyes with each other from across the bathing chamber. Loki is grateful for the cover of rose petals floating in the water. He’s not sure how he’d otherwise explain the hard-on he’s currently sporting.

“Get out.”

Sigryn wrinkles her nose at him, though she does look away first. “You always keep the water too cold.”

Most of Thor’s concubines are wary of Loki; he’s conspicuous and unmistakable in his otherness amidst Thor’s single-gendered concubines. Then again, Loki never did much to help himself fit in. When Loki was preoccupied with finding the Casket, he saw them as hurdles to overcome in his bid to win Thor’s affection. But Loki’s long given up on that, so now they are just nuisances.

This girl is brazen; she doesn’t yet understand the pecking order. If she did, she’d know to stay out of Loki’s way.

“I have seniority and I was here first.”

“Yes. You have...seniority,” she says with a wry smile that makes Loki seethe. “How long have you been in his Majesty's service again?”

“I said, get out!”

“I have every right to be here, runt.” She twists the hot tap so steaming water juts out, ruining Loki’s perfect frigid bath.

It’s not as though she’s not beautiful. Maybe in another life Loki might have found her alluring.

But as it is, all Loki can think is:

RIVAL.

Loki shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

The sudden change of attitude gives Sigryn pause. She narrows her eyes at him.

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Loki echoes, smiling sweetly. “Be my guest.”

Sigryn is unconvinced but nonetheless she descends into the bathing pool, towards where the water is quickly becoming disagreeably hot. Loki waits until she dips down to wet her face and hair to finish, “So long as you don’t mind I’ve cum four times into this water.”

It takes a few glorious seconds for this to register, but when it does, the look of pure horror and disgust on her face is totally worth the social ramifications Loki will no doubt face for this. The other harem inmates already think he’s a freak, so what does it matter?

Sigryn bolts out of the water with such speed that her tits look like they’ll fly off her. She grabs a towel and wraps it around her, shooting Loki the dirtiest look as she turns to exit.

“Good for the skin,” Loki calls after her.

***

Loki can’t call it a plan because it wasn’t…..well, planned.

In most things Loki acts with purpose. His choice of hairstyle, for instance, is entirely intentional. Loki knows Thor likes for him to wear his hair loose, even though it is more appropriate for a concubine of his status to wear their hair in neat plaits during the day. Loki compromises by tying his hair back in such a way as most of it falls loose about his shoulders. Though Loki feels as wanton as a common whore, it doesn’t mean he needs to look like it.

Next, Loki applies sweet perfumes to his neck and pulse points. It hardly masks the scent, but Loki can’t do anything more about that. He’s already spent all morning in the bath, mastubating over and over until most of the water was probably comprised of his spendings. Call it Loki’s little contribution to the skincare regiment of the harem denizens.

If Loki had a choice, he wouldn’t have attended the tournament. It’s humiliating to be out in public, reeking of pheromones and bodily fluids and sporting a half-crazed gleam in his eye. His only consolation is that these Asgardians don’t seem to have any sense of smell. If anyone is picking up on the biological signals Loki’s pumping out, Loki can’t tell. Loki would have never been made to step foot outside his chambers if he were in Jotunheim.

But such as it is, Loki is pressed to make an appearance. Not only because it’s something of a requirement for harem inmates to stand around, look beautiful and simper over their master, but also because Loki can’t pass up the opportunity to put himself in Thor’s eye. Loki’s not about to let some other bitch take his place tonight. Not if he can help it.

All of this is nothing but a thinly veiled excuse for Thor to strut around like a vainglorious peacock. Show off. That idiot Volstagg isn’t even strong enough to best him. Thor is, without question, the pinnacle of masculinity. He doesn’t need some stupid tournament to prove it. Nonetheless, watching him beat the crap out of his moron friends is as satisfying as it is arousing. Loki supposes it was worth prying himself out of confinement just to see pretty lord Fandral get his nose bashed in. My my. Thor oughtn’t wrestle so rough. Loki’s cunt clenches. Damn it! If Loki doesn’t get laid tonight he might kill something.

Of course Thor is declared the winner. He clasps arms with his bloody, bruised competitors and smiles winsomely at the crowd, who cheer enthusiastically in return. This is but a small tournament, more for sport than anything else, so there are only the usual stable of courtiers and hangers-on in attendance. Loki wills Thor to look his way and notice the way Loki’s worn his hair and the extra bit of kohl around his eyes.

But instead, Thor’s attention is fixated on Sigryn, who is currently presenting him with the victor’s wreath. She kisses him on the cheek, and he smiles in return.

Loki isn’t sure what happens next. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience. All he knows is that she’s touching his mate, and if he puts a baby in her, Loki will surely throw himself out of the highest tower in despair. Well, Loki isn’t about to let that happen if he can help it. Let them see who is truly worthy of bearing children for the King of Asgard!

***

“Animal,” Thor snarls, backhanding Loki so hard he crumples to the ground. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

Yes, Loki thinks madly, cradling his face and blinking out the stars in his vision. Loki’s not sure he’s ever seen Thor so pissed - not even when Thor discovered his witchcraft and had Loki bound under magic-inhibiting cuffs. Loki had been afraid for his life then. Now, in the face of Thor’s rage, he’s turned on.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” Loki pants. “I….don’t know what came over me.”

“You ripped out a chunk of Sigryn’s hair!”

Loki vaguely remembers this, but cannot bring himself to conjure any remorse. She’d deserved it, after all, for putting her filthy hands on his mate. And she was damn lucky Loki’s magic had been bound, or else she’d be sporting more than just a black eye and a patch of torn hair.

"I didn’t like her touching you,” Loki says impulsively.

Thor’s mouth drops, dumbstruck.

“You have no claim on me!” He shouts incredulously. “I own you!”

At That Thor hauls Loki up firmly by the biceps, gripping him so tight Loki’s sure it’ll leave bruises. Loki delights in this manhandling. Thor can be quite rough, but Loki knows he takes it better than the others. The thought fills him with perverse pride. Thor’s precious dainty well-born ladies can’t fuck dirty like Loki can.

“Do you even care how badly it reflects upon me that an inmate of my harem would behave in such a vulgar manner….? Have you no sense of shame?”

Thor goes on, getting redder in the face, until the veins in his temples begin to bulge. It brings to mind the thick veins on the underside of his cock. That thick, delicious cock that stretches Loki out just right and rubs him in all the right ways. Thor is truly magnificent. The power in his back and legs, the vitality, the strength….

Loki blinks - realizing, belatedly, that the room has fallen silent. Oop. Thor has stopped talking. What was the last thing he said? Something about honour. Or was it dishonour? Really, Loki should have been paying closer attention.

“I understand,” says Loki solemnly.

Thor points his finger in Loki’s face. “I swear, if you embarrass me like that one more time I’ll sell you.”

That gets Loki’s attention. He knows what being sold would mean for someone who looks like him. Moreover, in his current state of mind, the prospect of being separated from Thor is unbearable.

Loki drops to his knees, his fists clenching Thor’s trousers. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I’ll be good, I’ll be good. I swear. Please don’t sell me.”

“Get up,” Thor spits. “Pathetic.”

Loki does, scrambling back to his feet in a rush. He puts on his best contrite face - the face he often uses to weasel out of trouble. Big eyes, lips softly pouted. Loki knows he looks especially young when he does it. He also knows Thor has something of a weakness for it.

Thor must be really pissed, because he isn’t buying it today. He bares his teeth, “Issue Loki forty switches.”

“Thank you,” Loki says automatically. A switching he can handle, even if it’s more than double the amount he usually gets. It’s certainly preferable to being sold to a brothel.

Quickly Heurig fetches the switch they use to punish Thor’s harem slaves. It’s light and tapered, with nowhere near the bite of a proper flogging. It would not do to permanently mar the flesh of Thor’s prized beauties.

Loki’s had this used on him enough that he knows what to do, even in his hazy state of mind. And though he does not relish the prospect of getting beaten, there are aspects of this that Loki may be able to work to his advantage….

Very deliberately Loki trails his fingers up his body to unclasp the golden clips on his shift. He takes his time with this. If he’s going to be made to strip for his punishment, he may as well make the most of it. And it’s working: Thor is staring back at him hungrily, his eyes following the subtle tease of Loki’s cocked hip. Thor is so predictable, really; Loki should never have doubted himself.

At length, Loki allows the fabric to flutter off his body to reveal every inch of his smooth, creamy skin. All that’s left on him are his armlets, his cuffs and his sandals. He turns, stepping out of the shift pooled at his feet, and thereby presents Thor with a full view of his back and ass. All the while, he feels the weight of Thor’s stare, tracking his every movement.

Good.

The coolness of the golden column is welcome against Loki’s forehead as he braces his body against it. If they could just beat this fever out of him, that would be swell. Maybe it’ll help him come to his senses.

The first sting of the lash across his back is always a surprise, even though Loki is expecting it. Loki lets out a soft little whimper, half in earnest and half for show. His skin is so sensitized even this feels erotic, and knowing Thor is watching only adds to the thrill. Loki is not a particularly hardy individual - accustomed, as he is, to a pampered life inside the harem’s gilded cage - but something about this pain is sweet, and only seems to stoke the flames of Loki’s lust.

Heurig counts off each switch one by one as he methodically whips Loki’s back, ass, and upper thighs. The first few lashes have some bite but the pain is not unbearable. Loki has often been on the receiving end of ten, fifteen lashes for his little acts of insubordination and mischief. Insofar as that, he knows what to expect. It’s as the lashes start to overlap and accumulate, aggravating already oversensitized skin, that it starts to really hurt. Soon, Loki is crying out with each new stripe and fighting the urge to curl away from the pain. And even so, all the while, Loki remains unwaveringly, maddeningly aroused.

“Don’t break his skin,” Thor instructs, tone clipped.

Heurig acknowledges this with his usual servile yes, majesty, and resumes meting out Loki’s punishment. He’s trying to space out the lashes, clearly, so as to avoid cutting into Loki too deep.

Unfortunately, his aim could use improvement.

“Ahh,” Loki groans after a particularly sharp stripe.

“I said, don’t break his skin!” Thor snarls.

“Apologies, my king - “

“Enough! Loki, turn around.”

Loki does, and it’s only then, without the column’s support, that he realizes how dangerously light-headed he is. His entire back sings with pain; they’d only barely made it past thirty lashes. Loki must be bleeding if Thor has commanded Heurig to stop, but his back and thighs hurt so much all over he can’t discern precisely where the injury is.

Dizzily, Loki notes that Thor has the switch now. He’s unsure what Thor will do with it.

“Give me your palms.”

Loki does, instinctively, and Thor issues one lash to each in rapid succession. Loki retracts his hands with a wince, but thankfully that seems to be all Thor intended to dole out.

His bloodlust thus sated, Thor tosses the switch to the side. His face is still stormy, but now at least, some of that anger is directed at Heurig.

“I am far too lenient with you,” he says.

“Yes, I know. I am grateful, sire,” Loki answers quickly.

At that, Thor reclines in his armchair, looking altogether far too appealing for someone who’s just had Loki’s back whipped raw. Loki can smell his arousal from across the room, and it’s a struggle to stifle the triumph he feels bubbling inside him. Loki has long suspected Thor has a bit of a sadist in him. Loki has never been more thankful for the fact then this moment.

Thor signals to Heurig, irritation still rife in his voice, “You, get out. You,” - he signals to Loki - “Come here so I may make use of you.”

Loki does not need to be asked twice. He’s upon Thor within seconds. The pain from his lashing does not deter Loki in the slightest; neither does the prospect that sex in his current state almost certainly will lead to…..

No, Loki’s hormone-addled brain only cares about one thing. Greedily, Loki draws out that fat cock, and clambers atop Thor with about as much grace as an overexcited boar. Loki thrills when he realizes that Thor will let him fuck face-to-face. At this point, Loki would take sex however Thor would choose to give it, but face-to-face Thor will be easier to taste and smell.

Loki wastes no time aligning Thor’s cock to his cunny. Sinking down on it makes him feel whole, like he is made complete by that thick cock inside him. Loki only takes a moment to appreciate the feeling, throwing his head back in a contented sigh, before he proceeds to give Thor the most unabashed, energetic fuck of his life. His back and ass sting painfully with every frantic movement, but the sensation is dulled now, and Loki hardly pays it any heed. He’s united with his mate, at last.

Thor seems rather bewildered at Loki’s eagerness - bewildered and almost vaguely concerned; with a certain ‘what the fuck’ look about his face that might almost be comical in any other scenario. Loki does not usually fuck with so much enthusiasm - certainly not immediately after a lashing. Not that Thor is complaining, of course: he merely sits there, puzzled, one hand curled loosely around Loki’s hip.

“I better not catch you catfighting with my girls again,” Thor tells him, breathless.

“Yes, yes,” Loki says, impatient, as he bounces in Thor’s lap. Gods, when has sex ever felt so good? He can’t believe there were times when he hadn’t enjoyed it, or hadn’t wanted it. Having been so wound tight all day and then let loose upon Thor, it only takes a few minutes before Loki’s pace starts to falter, and he comes with a strangled cry.

Loki slumps, his head falling forward on Thor’s shoulder, and tries to catch his breath. The feeling is incredible - not just the orgasm, but also the sense of oneness with his mate. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

Thor pries him off, gripping him by the throat.

“What’s wrong with you?” Thor inspects Loki’s face closely. “Did you just….come?”

Loki pants raggedly. Already the urge to seek out another orgasm is building. He is so aroused it is hard to think. His hips rock in small, abortive movements.

Loki licks his lips. He doesn’t even remember to be embarrassed when he finally admits: “I’m in heat.”

.

Thor stares at him for a long while. Then, abruptly he laughs, deep rumbles that reverberate into Loki’s body.

“Is that why you’ve been acting like such a slut?” He leans back in his chair, amused, and releases Loki’s throat. Clearly, the significance of this rite of passage is lost on him. He shoots Loki an expectant, annoyed look. “Well, get on with it.”

Gratefully, Loki resumes. He’s sloppy and unsophisticated with it, frantic to get as much out of this as he can while Thor is available to him. He feels drunk. Everything about Thor is intoxicating. His strength, Norns, his smell….. Loki can’t help it when he licks up Thor’s neck-

“What the fuck, Loki.” Thor growls, jerking away.

Loki lets out a frustrated whine. “I can’t help it.”

“Well, help it. I am not here to service you. Just finish me with your mouth.” Thor grumbles, in such a way that implies he has better things to do than laze around and let Loki take his pleasure.

Loki slumps in abject disappointment. A protest burgeons on his lips, but Loki quickly swallows it back down - he has enough of his wits about him to know not to provoke Thor right now. Having no choice but to obey, Loki dismounts, and immediately regrets the loss of Thor’s cock inside him. His hunger for sex is such that sucking Thor off would not exactly sate his innermost craving. Nonetheless, Thor is his only sexual outlet, so Loki elects to make the most of it.

Loki has sucked Thor off plenty of times in the last three years - a tedious chore, but one he has nonetheless come to excel at. Now, however, it feels new and exciting to sink down between Thor’s massive thighs, take his cock in hand, and give the head an open-mouthed kiss.

Loki brazenly looks Thor in the eye and licks up the length of his cock. Thor inhales sharply - he likes that - but then he remembers himself and says, “Eyes down.”

Tch. Such a stickler for protocol. Loki obediently casts his eyes down and gets to work, sucking Thor off with a zeal that surprises even himself. Thor’s taste is heady and masculine, though on him Loki can taste himself too. Maybe, Loki thinks, if he does a good enough job with this, Thor’ll let him back onto his cock.

This prospect has Loki redoubling his efforts. It’s both a consolation and encouragement to hear Thor curse under his breath - Thor is difficult to get off orally unless he’s actively fucking Loki’s face. Loki preens at the knowledge that he’s doing a good job pleasuring his mate, and he takes Thor deeper, bobbing his head vigorously until almost the entire length of Thor’s cock is coated with viscous saliva. What he lacks in technique Loki makes up for in sloppy enthusiasm, and Loki doesn’t stop until tears are beading at his eyelashes and his throat begins to spasm.

The hot burst of semen across his face comes as a shock; Loki blinks several times in surprise as Thor comes copiously on his cheeks, nose and lips, without having given a word of warning. He grips Loki’s hair tightly to keep him in place, as if Loki would try to get away anyway, and uses this as leverage to thrust into Loki’s mouth and ride out the rest of his climax.

Thor sinks back down in his armchair, sated and utterly mollified. He grins wolfishly down at Loki, who by this point is covered in bodily fluids and desperately gasping for breath.

“I just think you need to learn a little restraint,” Thor says brightly, delivering a light slap to Loki’s unsullied cheek.

He’s gone mere moments later, leaving Loki blotchy-faced, wheezing and naked on the floor. Loki wipes his mouth and finds that a long strand of come and saliva has been hanging off his chin. Loki carefully collects Thor’s spend off his face, licks it off his fingers, and jerks himself off to an unsatisfying finish.

***

Intellectually, Loki is fully aware of how low he’s sunk.

Thor is watching him curiously, like all this is nothing but a deranged spectacle. Perhaps it is. Loki can smell that he’s aroused and his pathetic heat-brain is hurt Thor won’t just fuck him. He just wants Thor to want him the same way Loki does. Does he not understand that they’re mates?

“Do you love me?”

“Wh-what?”

“It’s a simple question. Do you love me?”

Loki’s head swims. It is rather hard to think, impaled as he is upon Mjolnir’s unyielding shaft. He can’t decide if this ought to be a great honour - fucking Thor’s majestic Star-Hammer - or if it’s degrading. All he knows is that Thor commanded it, pointing down at where he’d placed Mjolnir and snapping his fingers as if Loki were a dog. And Loki obeyed, so easily and without hesitation Thor seemed a bit surprised. Certainly, Loki never thought Thor to be so inventive. The depths of his depravity is only outmatched by Loki’s own.

Distantly, Loki wonders why Mjolnir chooses to lift for Thor. How could a man like Thor ever be considered worthy?

“Yes, my king.” He swallows tightly. “I love you.”

Thor crosses his arms, mirth evident in his eyes. Loki suspects he likes this, having Loki so desperate and willing and eager to please. The incident with Sigryn, it seems, has been long forgotten. Thor has found a much more interesting toy to play with.

“I don’t know Loki, I think you’re just saying that because you want to get fucked.”

“I love you. Very much,” Loki tries again.

“How much?”

Wetness is forming at Loki’s eyelashes. This is so damn frustrating. His heat has exhausted him. If he knew what Thor wanted to hear he’d just say it. At this point, Loki is past caring.

“More than the sun and the stars.”

Thor laughs. “Poetic. Tell me how Mjolnir feels inside you.”

Loki makes an odd gurgling noise. If he could speak he’d say that the hammer is too solid and unforgiving, that the leather ridges feel unnatural inside him. It’s not what he needs.

“You don’t like it?”

Loki can only shake his head. His tongue is too dry and heavy in his mouth.

“Is it because so many of your kind met their bloody end beneath her might?” Thor says, gripping Loki by the chin. The look on his face is so cold and terrible that even in his heat Loki wants to recoil, yet his touch is disarmingly tender. “You cry so prettily, my sweet. Rest assured I would have never unleash Mjolnir’s awesome wrath on you. You, I would spare. You, I would chase down. I would destroy your kin to get to you. I would clasp you in chains and take you, over and over, until you had neither the strength left to fight me nor the will to try.”

Thor smiles, but there is no warmth in it. His eyes are stormy and hard. “Beg for me to fuck you.”

“Please fuck me,” Loki repeats dutifully. He’s never felt so powerless.

Thor makes a show of considering. His thumb toys with Loki’s lower lip.

“Say, ‘I’m a dirty runtling slut.’”

“I’m a -” Loki swallows, unsure if he’d heard that correctly. Shame permeates him to the core, because he knows it to be true. “I’m a dirty runtling slut.”

“I know, sweetest,” Thor nods. “I can see how much you need it. And because I am a merciful, kind master, I will give it to you."

Thor helps Loki ease off Mjolnir, and positions him instead on the floor beside it. Loki goes on all fours happily, relieved and grateful to finally get what he’s been after. Thor kneels behind him and shoves Loki’s knees apart with little finesse. He then takes Loki’s hips in hand and manoeuvers so that his ass is upturned in the air. Thor hums approvingly and kneads the soft flesh being presented to him. He spits right on Loki’s hole, and uses his thumb to push the wetness in.

The fog of lust parts just enough for Loki to realize what is happening. He digs in his heels.

“Wait wait,” Loki pants, rearing up.

“What? You love getting fucked in the ass.”

Loki can hear the smirk in his voice. Gods, Loki hates him.

“I just really want…” Loki begins, but stops himself before he finishes: To get pregnant.

With his fertility spiking like this, it might be for the best to let Thor finish in his ass. It’s not like Loki has any contraceptives at hand. And even if he did, he’s not sure he trusts his heated self enough to take them. Maybe in his heat, he won’t find the act so unpleasant. Maybe he might even like it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Loki says miserably.  “Nevermind. My king.”

“No, tell me,” Thor coos, gently petting Loki’s hair from behind in a mockery of intimacy. “What do you want, Loki, sweetheart?”

Loki grits his jaw. “For you to fuck my ass.”

Thor laughs. He knows full well how much Loki hates when they do it like that; the act of sodomy is expressly reserved for slaves, and Thor only seems to want to do it when he’s feeling particularly mean.

“Don’t lie to me, Lokes.”

Loki breathes heavily through his nose. Every fibre of his being rebels against what he’s asking Thor to do.

“If you keep spilling in me while I’m in heat we’ll make a child, “ Loki says at last.

Thor is quiet behind him.

“Huh,” Thor says, like this thought had never occurred to him. Loki hates him for that too. Thor rubs his cock teasingly up the seam of Loki’s ass and pussy, as if to keep Loki guessing which one he’ll pick. “Don’t you want my child, Loki?”

Loki whimpers. Yes, he does. He wants so badly for Thor to sink inside him and fill him with seed. Mere days ago Loki had no desire to bear a child for Thor, even though as his thrall it would be his duty to do so if Thor should wish it. It’s this damn heat that’s making him crazy, making him want to be bred like an animal.

“What I want is irrelevant,” Loki manages at last. “My king.”

“The most sense you’ve spoken in a long while,” Thor says, sliding his cock into Loki’s cunt. “Mmmm. Maybe I will give you a child.”

Loki lets out a pathetic mewl. It’s exactly what his body craves and he hates himself for it.

“You’ll grow heavy with it, too fat and heavy to dance, and everyone at court shall know the honour I have bestowed on you.”

Loki sobs. Yes, yes.

Loki has never wanted Thor’s children, that much is true, but in this moment the thought of carrying Thor’s offspring is so appealing, so good, that Loki orgasms spontaneously without even having touched himself at all. Thor must’ve been much more worked up than Loki imagined, because he fucks violently into Loki only a few times before he’s grinding his orgasm into Loki’s receptive body.

Loki collapses bonelessly as soon as Thor lets go of his hair - he hadn’t even noticed Thor pulling it -  and savours the mindless bliss that always sets in after an orgasm.Thor’s come is hot and sticky inside him; conception at this point is probably inevitable. He’s so high on endorphins, so utterly depleted, that Loki can’t remember why he’d been fighting so hard against this in the first place. It’s his nature, after all. His body wants it. Thor wants it. Nothing in Loki’s life has been of his own making. Why struggle against it now?

From behind him comes Thor’s laugh, cruel and fond all at once.

“I love you too, Loki.”

Chapter Text

Helblindi is crowned King of Jotunheim on Midwinter’s night: the longest, darkest night of the year. The scryers tell him it is auspicious; Helblindi cares not for superstition, but he's smart enough to know that other Jotuns do. This is the culmination of everything he’s ever strived for, and he is not about to leave anything to chance. Everything must be perfect.

One by one, the nobles and warriors are brought forth to pledge their loyalty, until at last it’s Loki’s turn to take a knee. He recites the oath as he had practised, but the words come out haltingly, as if his entire being rebels against having to say it. 

When Loki finishes, Helblindi smiles down at him, but it doesn’t sit naturally on his face. It looks distorted. Monstrous.

“Are you happy for me, brother?” Helblindi asks. His dark red eyes glint.

Loki calmly meets Helblindi’s gaze and swallows down the terror churning in his stomach.

 “I am.”

***

Helblindi is the obvious choice to succeed their uncle Laufey. He’s boundlessly energetic, so much so Loki isn’t sure if he sleeps at all. Many Jotun at court welcome their vigorous young king. At the very least, Helblindi will be sure to get things done. There’s a rumor that perhaps Helblindi had something to do with the strange sickness that overcame both Laufey and his pregnant mate. Loki wouldn’t put it past Helblindi to have done something so vile; Helblindi is, first and foremost, ambitious, and his disdain for bumbling old Laufey was no secret. No one dares make the accusation outright, however. Helblindi’s other hallmark is his propensity for ruthlessness.

Loki loved Laufey, but he is careful to keep his grief private lest he rouse his brother’s ire. He mourns in silence - not only for Laufey, but also for whatever modicum of freedom he once had. Loki was never completely free of Helblindi’s shadow, but at least when Laufey was alive he provided something of a buffer between them. 

If Loki only knew how much worse it could get.

***

Loki’s world begins to close in the moment Helblindi is crowned. 

Loki has always had the sense that his brother is somewhat obsessed with him, but his possessiveness becomes much, much worse after he’s made King. Helblindi delights in choosing what Loki wears, in curating what he reads. He becomes the star around which Loki is made to orbit. Every night Loki is required to dine at his side. Why, Loki doesn’t know, because he never seems to please Helblindi with his company. Helblindi seems perpetually irritated by him. Loki speaks as little as possible in his presence. Helblindi likes it best when he keeps silent.

Loki cannot risk taking flights anymore, despite how desperately he wants to. He doesn’t trust any of the attendants Helblindi sends him. They are watching, listening - ready to report back to Helblindi if Loki stepped an inch out of line.  

And so, Loki sits in his room embroidering. He makes himself as unobtrusive and as inoffensive as possible. He bides his time: Helblindi can't keep him locked away like this forever. There will come a point when he will have to match Loki to someone, and Loki knows that time is coming soon. Loki is eager for it. Being married off will be a welcome relief; Loki hardly cares to whom. Maybe Helblindi will choose a foreign royal, so that Loki will be sent far, far away. That would be ideal….

Loki hopes that will be the case, since no Jotunn at court dares to ask after his hand. Loki is afraid to even look at some of the handsome warriors, let alone flirt with them as he used to do. Rousing Helblindi’s ire is not worth it. 

Until a match is arranged, all Loki can do is wait.

***

It happens only a few months after Helblindi is crowned. 

“Are you ready to serve Jotunheim?” 

The way Helblindi says it suggests he's got a match in mind. Finally. 

Loki tilts his head up. He’s never been more ready.

“I am.”

"Good," Helblindi murmurs, as if to himself. He continues aloud: "After consideration, I have come to the difficult decision that you, Loki, will be the one to provide me with my heirs." 

Loki laughs nervously, because he isn’t sure he’d heard that correctly. But to his horror, he realizes he hadn’t misheard. Helblindi means it.

“You can’t be serious.”

Helblindi sighs, as if Loki is being purposefully dense. “A child by us would have pure royal blood, pure royal lines. If I took any other as my mate I would only degrade my seed. My reign has, regrettably, begun on shaky ground. In doing this, I will legitimize my claim to the throne and secure my dynasty."

"You're my brother." Loki whispers.

"Don't pretend like this hasn't been done before," Helblindi says irritably. “How do you think royal bloodlines are created to begin with? Besides, it'll keep your dower lands in our family."

"Give me to anyone," Loki pleads. "Please. I'll marry whoever you tell me to -"

Helblindi slaps him mid-sentence.  

“Show some dignity. You’re a Prince of Jotunheim. Don’t you want to see our family succeed? After everything I've done for you, the least you could do is grant me this."

"I won't do it,” Loki says defiantly, rubbing his cheek. ”Ask anything else of me."

"My brother, I am not asking you." Helblindi says, his voice deceptively soft. "I don't like this any more than you do. I know this is not something that you want. I don’t mean to make it terrible for you. We will do it when your first heat strikes for the best chance of conception. Once you give me three heirs I’ll dismiss you from court, and you’ll never have to see me again.” 

“And if I refuse?”

Helblindi stares at him point blank. “You swore your loyalty to me, did you not?”

The veiled threat is there. Treason. Loki is cowed by the mere implication. He’s seen what Helblindi is capable of. 

“Just think about it, my brother," Helblindi goes on in that same dulcet tone. "I realize this may be shocking to you, so I will forgive your insolence for now. I will give you time to process my proposition. Perhaps in time you will not be so averse to the prospect.”

***

Loki stares up at the ceiling blearily. He flinches at the prodding fingers inside him.

“You may sit up, Loki-prince.” the witchdoctor says, retracting his fingers from inside Loki's body. Loki does, smoothing down his robes.

“What are you going to tell him,” Loki asks evenly. There is no question the witchdoctor will be reporting back to Helblindi.

The witchdoctor smiles at him reassuringly and pats his shin. “Nothing he won’t be glad to hear.”

"I will give you anything I own if you tell him I am barren."

The witchdoctor is taken aback. “Loki-prince-”

“What do you want? Jewels? Gold? Name it.”

“I cannot lie to the king,” the witchdoctor says, aghast, and Loki knows he’s afraid of Helblindi. Everyone is. “You should be glad to bear the next king of Jotunheim. It is a great honour. Take heart. Many kings of old wed their brothers."

An honour. Not to Loki. Helblindi’s seed inside him will be a parasite, a contagion. He’ll be corrupted by Helblindi from within. The thought of it fills Loki with revulsion. 

“I have in my possession a feather-cloak, allowing flight to those of our size. No one knows of it. You have heard of such a thing?” The witchdoctor’s eyes become round, and Loki is encouraged. “It is precious, and rare. I will give it to you if you tell him I am infertile.”

The witchdoctor seems to chew on this for a minute, as if trying to determine whether Loki is fibbing. The silence drags on for so long Loki starts to think he’d just made a critical mistake in revealing this sensitive information to a known informer. If the witchdoctor tattled to Helblindi -

Then the witchdoctor says, “Let me see it.”

***

The witchdoctor gasps aloud when Loki presents the cloak to him.

“I thought these only existed in myth,” he breathes.

“Do we have a deal?” Loki asks.

The witchdoctor runs his fingers over the feathers greedily. It’s like he’s forgotten Loki is even there.

“Do we have a deal?” Loki repeats, more insistently.

The witchdoctor nods, his covetous eyes finally flicking to Loki's. "Yes."

At this, Loki allows him to take the cloak into his arms. Loki’s eyes well as he gives it up. This cloak had been his only reprieve from Helblindi’s perpetual surveillance. With it, Loki has bought another kind of escape. If he's infertile he'll be useless, and Helblindi might even allow Loki to quietly go into exile and be forgotten. Still, that doesn't make letting go of it any easier.

“Please take care of it,” Loki says thickly, as though he were giving up a child. Then he flees, because he is ashamed of the tears flowing down his face.

***

Helblindi enters his rooms that night with a flourish and presents him with a small box.

“For you.”

Loki opens it. It’s a box of candied peel, of imported ginger and citrus fruits from off-Realm, increasingly rare since the Great War. Loki blinks at it as if he'd never seen candies before in his life.

“You’ve kept your honour. That’s good, Loki,” Helblindi says. He sounds proud. 

That’s all he says about it. Nothing about Loki's purported barrenness. A pit forms in Loki’s stomach. He’d been double-crossed.

Helblindi is watching him expectantly. 

“Thank you,” Loki grits out.

After Helblindi is gone, Loki tosses the candies into the fire.

***

“Oathbreaker,” Loki snarls, shoving the witchdoctor against the wall. “We had a deal.”

“I’m sorry, Loki-prince-” 

“Give it back.”

The witchdoctor stares him down evenly. “Give what back.”

“My- “ Loki chokes out. He realizes he can’t say it. No one knew he had a feather cloak, save for his childhood nurse Gunni, who’d given it to him long ago. If Helblindi found out he had it, he’d make Loki watch as he burned it. There is no recourse for this injustice, and the witchdoctor knows it.  

“Give it back please.” Loki pleads. He hates the desperation in his voice. 

“You shouldn’t have it,” The witchdoctor replies lowly, like he knows Loki will fly away from Utgard the instant he has it back in his possession. Which Loki will, consequences be damned.

"I will not forget this." Loki threatens, blinking back angry tears. “For as long as I live. I swear to you I will not forget this.”

***

Loki views his body like a bomb waiting to go off. He’s still young, but it won't be long before he reaches sexual maturity. Loki cannot halt the steady march of time, nor can he change Helblindi’s mind once he’s made a decision. There is only one thing Loki can think to do.

“You aren’t eating," Helblindi comments one night as they sit at dinner. "You need some fat on you. You look ill."

"I have not had much of an appetite of late. Brother," Loki spits the word like poison. This is a lie; Loki is starving, and has been for weeks. He’s lost so much weight he hardly recognizes himself. He feels frail, lightheaded. Merely arising from his seat is enough to make Loki so dizzy he fears he’ll pass out. The lack of nourishment has even made his well of magic run dry. 

"I know what you are doing," Helblindi says, affecting concern. He rests his large hand on Loki’s forearm and squeezes, just barely. "Starving yourself on purpose, trying to stifle the onset of your heat."

Loki says nothing. Of course his plan wouldn’t escape Helblindi’s notice. 

“I’ve even brought you your favourite dish,” Helblindi says, gesturing to the steaming stew the servants had just brought out. He ladles Loki a generous helping: Fish in a cream sauce - thick and rich and fatty. It smells so good Loki could cry.

“I’m not hungry,” Loki says.

"Eat it, Loki. You will not leave this table until you finish." 

"I will throw it up,” Loki says through gritted teeth.

"Then I will make you eat that too."

Loki closes his eyes. Hopelessness overcomes him. He can’t win. In a moment of pure exhaustion, he asks the question which has plagued him his entire life:

"Why do you hate me so much." 

Helblindi looks shocked. "I couldn't hate you, my brother. I love you. That is why it has to be you.” 

Hearing him say this makes something twist in Loki’s chest. Maybe it’s the blatant shamelessness of the lie. Loki can’t remember a time when Helblindi didn’t despise him. Loki has no one else - no other family, no real friends. Helblindi is his entire world; his only living relation. The only thing Helblindi loves about Loki is the fact that he owns him.

“You are the most beautiful runt in all Jotunheim, as pure as fallen snow. Who else is more deserving of you?” Helblindi goes on. “Any other mate I might give would only be beneath you. Your beautiful heritage lines would be bred out by inferior seed. But not if you were mine. I will honour you above all others. I will grant you whatever you desire. You will be lauded as the carrier of kings. Together, we will create a dynasty that will last ten thousand years."

"I don't care," Loki says stubbornly.

Helblindi seems surprised by this too. It's as though he can't fathom anyone having compunctions about doing something like this - not when the payoff is so great. 

"It won't be so bad. I promise you," Helblindi says. "We don’t have to do it more times than is necessary. Once you’re confirmed to be pregnant we’ll stop. So if I might make a suggestion? Perhaps you should do what you can to enhance your fertility. You wouldn’t want us to have to keep trying, would you? Wouldn’t it be better for you if my seed took straightaway?" 

Loki swallows tightly in horror. He hadn’t thought that they might have to try. Weakly, Loki nods.

Helblindi leans back in his chair. His eyes turn sharp as obsidian, and he pushes Loki’s bowl of food closer towards him.

“Now. Eat.”

***

Loki starts to think he should just give in. There is no point in fighting this. Helblindi said he'd release him after three heirs; that might only take a few years if Loki is lucky. Then Helblindi would have his inbred brats and Loki would be dismissed from court. Never having to see Helblindi again would almost be worth it.

Loki is put under supervision for his meals, and he quickly gains back the weight he’d lost. His surrender pleases Helblindi immensely; Helblindi loves getting his way, especially where Loki is concerned. Helblindi showers him with trinkets in an effort to buy his complacency. None of Loki’s fine things bring him any comfort. His feather-cloak was the only thing in this world he cared about, and he’d given it up for nothing in return.

As the witchdoctor had predicted, it’s not long before Loki starts to show signs of sexual maturity. 

"I can smell you ripening,” Helblindi tells him. “Two more nights and you’ll be ready. I will come to you then."

Helblindi has him locked in his tower to await the inevitable. Loki soon senses a prickle under his skin signalling the advent of his first heat. Just thinking about what his brother intends to do to him is enough to quash his burgeoning desire. 

Loki stares out the window, a bird’s eye view of the plain below Utgard, which stretches towards the snow-capped mountains. The window is not locked and never has been. Helblindi sometimes keeps him prisoner here when Loki displeases him in some way, but he never knew Loki could escape with his feather-cloak. Loki has jumped from this window plenty of times to take flight.

Loki wants to jump now. This time, however, he has no wings to catch him. He’d plummet to the grounds below. That would be a sensible solution to his predicament ...if he could only be sure that Helblindi would cremate his body afterwards. Helblindi would certainly deny him that out of spite. And if Loki wasn't cremated, then his spirit would be imprisoned by Helblindi forever.

There is no way out but forwards.

***

His brother comes to him two days later, as promised. Loki bolts upright as soon as Helblindi enters his room.

Helblindi’s face is neutral. “It is time to do your duty for our kingdom.”

Loki can’t answer. He’s made himself flat against the wall. He thought maybe in the moment he’d feel brave enough to attack Helblindi or defend himself somehow. Maybe fire a few magic-bolts to deter him. But he's frozen, too terrified to move. He's always been terrified of Helblindi. 

Helblindi reaches into his cloak and pulls out a small vial. "Take this. To render you unconscious. You don't have to feel anything."

He means this as a courtesy. But having Helblindi do such repulsive things to his unconscious body would be far more violating. Loki shakes his head quickly.

Helblindi shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

Without further ado he grabs Loki. Helblindi has put his hands on him plenty of times before, but that was always in anger. This is much, much worse. Loki struggles against him, but Helblindi is bigger, and stronger, and Loki is more frightened than he's ever been in his life.

“I can’t do it,” Loki whimpers. 

“You don’t have to do anything. Just lie there. I’ll do it from behind so you won’t even know it’s me. You can think about that Fjornjot, hmm? He’s handsome.”

Loki’s heartbeat begins to race. Helblindi forces him around and throws him against the bed. Loki tries to rear up but Helblindi is too heavy. Loki can feel Helblindi’s giant hand on his upper back between his shoulder blades, pinning him down.

“Please, don’t, Helblindi -” Panic starts to set in. “Don’t, please.”

Helblindi is breathing hard. “I'll be quick." 

Helblindi curls over Loki's prone body. And something happens. Loki swears he hears Helblindi …. sniff him. In that moment, Loki realizes something - a thought too horrible to even acknowledge. A thought which has lain dormant within him for years: 

Helblindi likes this.

Loki starts crying. Really crying. Horrible sobs that wrack his body. 

"Loki," Helblindi growls behind him. "Stop crying. You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be."

Loki can't stop. He hates this. He hates his life. There is no escape. Helblindi will never let him go. He'll never be satisfied with three heirs. Loki will be his prisoner forever, in this life and the next. 

“Shut up, Loki.” Helblindi takes a handful of his hair and tugs on it. “I’m trying to be gentle with you. Do you want me to make it hurt?”

Loki only cries harder. He’ll not give Helblindi the pleasure of pretending this is anything other than what it is.

Helblindi gives up, put off by Loki’s hysterics.

"We will try again your next heat,” Helblindi says, straightening. He sounds flustered. “It'll come stronger. Maybe then you’ll care less that it’s me."

At that, Helblindi turns and leaves, locking the door behind him. As soon as he’s gone, Loki curls over and dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. Loki crumples to the ground, wheezing, unable to catch his breath. His entire body is shaking violently. He heaves again, although this time nothing comes up. 

He might've bought himself some time, but he knows Helblindi won't be so easily discouraged - not when he’s put his mind to something. Helblindi won’t stop. He’ll get his way in the end. He always does. Loki is trapped. 

There is no one in all of Jotunheim who could help him.

***

***

***

***

***

So Jotunheim has a new king. Helblindi, nephew of Laufey. 

If he thinks he can smooth-talk Thor into repatriating the Casket, he’s mistaken. He is, however, welcome to try. Thor has never been to Jotunheim, but he enjoys a good adventure. The hunting is known to be excellent in Jotunheim: mammoths, herds of muskoxen, direwolves and elk. Fermented yak milk is said to be particularly delicious to those who have built up a taste for it. And Thor would be remiss if he didn't bring home an ice-troll's head as a trophy.

And so, Thor accepts Helblindi-King’s invitation. Who knows? It could prove to be a lark. 

***

Jotunheim is more impressive than Thor imagined. It’s cold, sure, but there’s a kind of icy beauty about it. Utgard has the quality of having been especially beautiful once, although there’s a slight dinginess to it, as if overworn and underserviced. Everything here is oversized, as one would expect. Thor tries not to let the height of the Jotuns eat at his pride. They are Giants, after all, and many of their warriors stand well over seven or even eight feet tall. Still, Thor is considered to be a particularly tall Asgardian, and he dislikes having to look up at anyone, let alone a denizen of a subject Realm. Thor will not let the Jotuns think he’s intimidated. No; Thor fears nothing when he has Mjolnir hanging at his side. He does not mean to antagonize anyone by bringing her, but it would have been imprudent of him not to. Although Jotunheim is desperate to be brought back into the fold of the Nine Realms, there are certainly individual Jotuns who would not take kindly to having the son of their mortal enemy come and cavort with their new king. Thor remains amicable but not unguarded. He won't let himself be caught unawares.

When Thor enters the Hall of Utgard, his breath is literally taken away. It is cavernous. Its most striking feature is its famed icicle ceiling, which Thor has to admit is a spectacular sight. Thor can't help but notice, however, that a few of the icicles have broken off. Thor fights his inner paranoia. An icicle better not crack and fall on his head while he's here.

“Thor-King,” Helblindi says in greeting from the royal dais. He's a tall creature with a sharp face and two long straight horns emanating from his forehead. He's not as hulking as some of the Jotun warriors, but Thor knows he's a master of seidr. There are rumors that he'd dispatched old Laufey to gain the throne for himself. Whether he did or not, he is now the undisputed King of Jotunheim. And so Thor must play nice. 

“I welcome the lord of all Nine Realms to my Hall,” Helblindi says.

Thor nods his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the invitation, Helblindi-king. I am eager to witness for myself what wonders and delights Jotunheim has to offer. I look forward to learning more about your peoples, and to hopefully establish an abiding peace between our Realms."

Standing beside Helbindi is another figure, shorter than the rest: what Thor assumes to be a Jotun runt. Thor tries not to gawk but he’s never seen a runt before. The Jotun race is known to be especially protective of its runts. They are said to be as elusive and mysterious as the gossamer lily, which blooms only during lunar eclipses.

Thor learns later, during the great welcoming feast, that the runt is Loki, Helbindi's younger brother, whom Thor had only previously heard of in passing. He's got an almost elvish face with delicate features and high aristocratic cheekbones. Whereas Helblindi is bald and horned, Loki has long black hair tied back in a braid. Loki meets his gaze only once, and raises his cup slightly as he drinks: a subtle toast. Thor reciprocates in kind. Loki is kind of pretty, in an alien kind of way.

After dinner, a few more runts are brought out to perform a folkloric style of dance requiring a lot of tumbling and jumping. It’s an impressive show of athleticism, but their movements read as somewhat suggestive to Thor’s eye. Thor remembers hearing that runts make excellent bedsport, if a person could acquire one. Thor used to think this a ridiculous notion, but then, he’d only ever seen Jotun warriors before now. He had no idea how refined the runts could be. Maybe he might be able to obtain one for his harem back home. Wouldn’t that be delightful. Volstagg would be green with envy!

Thor has another sip of his fermented yak’s milk - he’s almost used to the sour tanginess of it by now. When he looks up, he realizes Prince Loki is staring at him.

***

It’s not until he’s in his private chambers, sequestered from prying eyes, that Thor surrenders to his natural curiosity and allows himself to inspect his surroundings more closely. Everything about Jotunheim is strange and fascinating to him - stranger than he’d imagined, although nothing about his trip so far has been overtly unpleasant (except for the offal stew, which Thor was almost unable to eat without gagging). 

For inhabiting such an inhospitable Realm, the Jotuns are certainly skilled at making use of the paltry resources available to them. The furnishings in Thor’s rooms are masterfully crafted from petrified wood and walrus ivory to suit a being of Thor’s size. Thor’s bed is blanketed with pelts of beasts unknown. Helblindi-King had no doubt sought out the rarest and most exquisite furs with which to impress him. In this he was successful: after having run his hands over the thick, luxurious pelts, Thor becomes newly energized to reopen trade with Jotunheim. There are many at home who would pay a fine price for furs like these.

In the corner of the room is a lit hearth casting a warm glow over the chamber. Thor knows his rooms are being kept much warmer than they otherwise would be. How the fire has not melted the walls, Thor does not know. Utgard appears to be made entirely of different kinds of ice: glossy, wet-looking ice, glittering frosted ice (Thor was advised not to lick), delicate transparent ice, and thick, opaque, ancient glacial ice. When Thor hovers his palm over the surface of the wall, he can feel the cold emanating off of it. Utgard must be infused with some kind of seidr. Thor cannot imagine how this edifice could stay standing without it. 

Thor is so occupied with these thoughts that it startles him to realize there is someone in the room with him.

He whirls around. “Who goes there?” 

The figure steps out from the shadows. It’s….Prince Loki.

"Apologies, Great King,” Loki-Prince says, bowing his head. His voice is rich and polished, with a touch of a Jotun accent. “I realize it is most unorthodox to disturb you at this late hour, and without invitation. You must forgive me,” His red eyes go wide with wonder, “It is not everyday one can be in the presence of the King of all the Realms."

Thor is immediately intrigued by this unexpected turn of events, so much so that he forgets to be angry at the intrusion. He only wishes he knew how long Loki had been standing there. Thor hopes Loki hadn’t seen him go around fondling the walls.

“Is this the kind of security I can expect in Helblindi-King’s hall?” 

Loki smiles. He holds up his hand and fades it invisible for a brief moment. Ah. A seidr wielder, like his brother. That would explain how he managed to sneak in here unseen.  

Loki tilts his head, coquettish. “Shall I leave, my lord?”

“Not at all,” Thor says smoothly. He is eager for a chance to get to know this Loki-prince a little better. And what better way to get to know someone than late at night, in the privacy of one’s bedchamber? "Does your brother know you're here?"

Loki’s smile only deepens. 

“He keeps a close eye on me,” Loki says. There’s a playful, conspiratorial glint in his eye, as if he’s letting Thor in on a little secret. "He never lets me have any fun.”

"I see,” Thor says. “You’re here seeking some fun, then, are you?”

Loki tips his head back and laughs. His throat is long and elegant and marrless, a perfect cobalt blue. 

"I regret that I did not get a chance to speak to you personally and welcome you to our Realm."

By now Thor is bored of political pleasantries, but he’s willing to play along if it means Loki will stay longer.

“It is high time Jotunheim and Asgard were once again bonded in friendship," Thor agrees.

"I was hoping we might share a drink, to toast our kingdoms’ newfound amity.” Loki reaches into his cloak and pulls out a long, thin bottle. “Ice wine. From my own private cellar. A very rare vintage. May I offer you some, my lord?"

“Yes. Thank you, Loki-Prince.”

With a wave of his hand, Loki summons two long thin flutes made of ice. The parlour trick makes Thor smirk; he hopes Loki had practised it beforehand just to impress him. Loki sets the glasses on a nearby table and uncorks his bottle. He pours the drinks elegantly, twisting the bottle at the end so as not to spill a single precious drop. Thor can’t help but notice that even his wrists are finely boned and elegant.

Loki offers one of the filled ice-flutes to Thor, which Thor takes in hand.

“To unity.” Loki says in a toast. Thor could swear there’s a hint of suggestion in his voice.

“To unity,” Thor agrees, and they clink their glasses together. 

Thor brings the flute to his lips for a sip, as does Loki. The ice wine is very, very sweet, and tastes vaguely of raisins.

“Delicious,” says Thor.  

Loki’s tongue darts out to lick a bead of liquid from his lips. Thor observes this pointedly: he wants Loki to know he’s watching. And indeed, Loki is staring right back at him, his red eyes fixed unwaveringly on Thor. Loki doesn't really resemble Helblindi at all, aside from the pointiness of his face. His eyes are crystalline red, like a fine ruby, whereas Helblindi's are cloudy and dull. 

Loki’s attention is diverted somewhere beyond Thor’s shoulder. He audibly gasps. “Is that - “

Thor turns around. “Yes, Mjolnir.”

Loki sets his ice-flute aside and crouches down to inspect her more closely.

He turns to Thor eagerly. “May I?”

Thor nods, waving his hand in invitation, and Loki touches the tips of his fingers to Mjolnir’s hammerhead. Then, growing bolder, he drags his fingers upwards to feel the smoothness of the leather bindings around the handle. It’s pleasurable to watch Loki’s long, tapered fingers caress Mjolnir in this way. Loki moves so sensually, as if everything he does is for show. Thor finds that he is enjoying their flirtatious game immensely. There is so much more anticipation than if Thor were tumbling a maid or stablehand. Sometimes, Thor enjoys the build up of tension just as much as the release.

“How wonderful," Loki murmurs. 

“She is forged from the heart of a dying star,” Thor boasts. “Only I may lift her.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. He rises and closes his fist around Mjolnir’s handle. He tries to pick her up off the ground, but despite his best efforts, he is unable to make her budge even a single inch. Thor laughs and strolls over to where Loki is standing. He lifts Mjolnir easily and swings her around.

Loki’s eyes go wide. He’s amazed, and Thor relishes it. 

“You channel your lightning with her?”

“That’s right,” Thor says.

“Mmm, I should like to see it one day,” Loki says. “I imagine such a thing to be truly awe-inspiring. The raw power of the storm at your fingertips…..it makes me tremble just to think of it. I am glad our nations are healing the wounds of the past. I would not want you as my enemy, my lord.”

Norns, it’s like he’s trying to get Thor hard.

“Fear not; your brother and I are drafting a new treaty - one of Everlasting Peace. I am honoured to be Jotunheim’s friend and ally. I will come to your nation's aid, should you ever need it.”

“Oh, that is heartening to hear,” says Loki gratefully. “I shudder to think what would happen if we were lacking your protection. Jotunheim is, regrettably, weakened from infighting and strife. I fear my brother has not the military force necessary to deter an invasion, were an enemy Realm to take advantage of our vulnerable state. This is of particular concern to me personally, as runts are often taken as spoils of war. We are said to make excellent slaves.”

Loki happens to say this as Thor picks up his flute for another sip of ice wine. Thor chokes and starts to cough uncontrollably.

Loki tilts his head. “Are you alright, my lord?”

“Fine, fine,” Thor wheezes. “I’m fine.” 

“Which is why my brother is so protective of me,” Loki laments. “He does not approve of my mischief-making. He worries it will get me in trouble....” Loki's face turns solemn. "If I may be serious for a moment, I must insist that you not speak of my visit here to anyone, least of all my brother the King. He would be horrified to learn that I had disturbed his honoured guest at this late hour. Especially because -"

"Because what."

Loki's face is pained. "Oh, my lord, you must think me so foolish! I am too embarrassed to even say!"

"What?" Thor asks. "Please. You can talk to me, Loki-Prince."

Loki looks for a moment like he isn't going to answer. Then he says: "I have been curious about elemental magics for so long - being a practitioner of healing and illusion magicks myself. But I have never met an elemental user, let alone one of your calibre. My brother worried I might try to badger you and ruin your stay here." Loki opens his arms apologetically and laughs, self-deprecating. “It appears he was right.”

“You are hardling ruining my stay!” exclaims Thor, almost in offense. “I am delighted to have the company. But I understand your concern. Worry not. I shall not breathe a word of your visit here tonight.”

Loki smiles brightly. “Thank you, my lord. You are good to humor me. This topic is of great interest to me, especially since elemental users are so rare. This might be gauche, but I was hoping you would regale me with tales of the many adventures you have had with Mjolnir. I would love to learn more about her. And, if I may be so bold,” He looks up at Thor, fanning out his eyelashes, “About you.”

Thor is all too happy to oblige. And so, they make themselves comfortable on a nearby couch. As Thor talks, they sip ice wine until the bottle is drained dry and Thor’s fingers are numb from holding the ice-flute. It’s hard to contain himself when Loki is so obviously enraptured. Loki does not speak at all except to insert the odd razor-sharp comment. His attention is singular, heady, intoxicating, and Thor likes it.

“I confess I am rather envious,” Loki says, after Thor had prattled on for the better part of an hour. “You have experienced so much, whereas I have never even left Jotunheim. The first place I would want to go is Asgard. I hear it is very beautiful.”

“It is,” Thor agrees. “The most beautiful place in all the Realms.” The prospect of bringing Loki to Asgard is tantalizing. Thor imagines giving Loki a tour of the palace of Asgardia by day, then taking him to bed and coupling with him vigorously at night. Thor looks Loki up and down pointedly. "Although I find myself rather….struck by Jotunheim's beauty."

Loki's lips twitch. The flattery did not go unmissed. Haughty thing! He knows he is beautiful.

"I must admit, I likewise find myself rather struck by you," Loki says. He reaches out and tucks a wayward lock of Thor’s blonde hair behind his ear. "Such exotic colouring…."

Thor laughs at this. It is Loki who is the exotic one. The most exotic creature Thor has ever seen, in fact.

“How fortunate it is that our paths should cross, Thor-King,” Loki continues, drawing nearer on the couch. “I have wondered about you for a long time.”

Thor grins lazily. “Have you.”

“So much is said about you,” Loki goes on. “Of your charm, your might....I admit, I thought it all to be fiction. Until now.”

Loki settles in next to Thor, so close Thor can almost feel Loki’s breath on his face.

“Take me with you to Asgard," Loki says. His voice is like silk. His hand is on Thor's thigh.

Thor can't say he isn't tempted, but he can only imagine the diplomatic headache that would cause. As enticing as Loki is, it doesn’t really seem worth the effort. Thor's councillors would kill him if he ruined relations with Jotunheim just to get his cock wet. No - better to try and obtain a different runt, one less politically charged, and bed Loki-prince in the meantime.

'No one would like that more than I," Thor oozes, "But I do not think such a thing will be possible."

Loki stares at him steadily. It’s as though Thor's response did not register. Then he says it again, crisp and clear, giving each word weight:

"Take me with you to Asgard."

Thor doesn't have time to think before Loki surges forward to kiss him. Thor is so surprised that he drops his ice-flute. It shatters on the ground, although neither of them pay it any heed. Thor is unused to being kissed by his bedmates, but because Loki is royal, he allows it. Loki’s lips are cool and smooth against his own. He tastes sweet, like the ice wine they’d been drinking.

“Forgive me if I am being forward,” Loki says when he pulls back. He sounds a little breathless. "I have never seen a man like you."

"Quite alright," Thor says dizzily. He has that effect on maidens back home as well. 

Loki kisses him again, more insistently than before, parting his lips to lick at Thor’s mouth. He’s enthusiastic but somewhat sloppy, as if he’s too wound up to help himself. Thor doesn’t mind this frenetic pace. By now he’s eager to get Loki's clothes off and see for himself what bedding a Jotunn runt has to offer. Thor reaches for the gilded buttons at Loki's throat. He undoes one, then two, revealing a lovely set of blue collarbones. As it turns out, the raised white lines on Loki’s face trail down his neck towards his heaving chest. Thor had been wondering if he’s got those lines all over his body. It won’t be long until Thor sees them in their entirety.

Loki's hands fly to Thor's to still them. 

"As much as I desire to continue," Loki purrs, his hands still clasped around Thor's, "It would be better if we pursued such pleasures in Asgard. Jotunheim is rather prudish, you see, and such liaisons are frowned upon..."

Thor grins wolfishly. "No one needs to know."

"In Asgard, my King," Loki insists. His voice is laden with erotic promise, as if he knows every filthy thing Thor plans to do to him.

"Why?”

Loki blinks once, twice. His voice is small: "Why?"

"Why do you insist on Asgard when you were the one to come to my bedchambers?" 

Loki's mouth opens, just barely. Then, in one swift, neat motion, he rises.

“I should not have inconvenienced you at this late hour,” he says, smoothing down his robes primly. “Forgive me.” 

"You needn't leave," stammers Thor, likewise rising. His half-hard cock makes itself known in his trousers. "We were just getting to know each other -"

"Apologies, great King, but I must bid you goodnight.” says Loki, bowing low. Thor means to protest, but Loki has already rendered himself invisible. The door to Thor’s room opens and closes, seemingly of its own volition, signaling Loki’s departure. Thor is left alone and aroused and utterly baffled.

What the Hel was that?

Thor doesn’t get the chance to find out, because the following morning he departs Utgard for his tour of Jotunheim, and Loki is left behind.

***

***

***

Thor’s excursion in Jotunheim is all at once fascinating, thrilling, enlightening, and exhausting. The landscape here is fantastic in the most literal sense of the word; the sweeping vistas have a kind of bleak, fathomless beauty to them. The glacial fields have a primordial air, as if they’d remained unchanged since the beginning of time. Jotunheim’s majestic mountain peaks are just as spectacular. It is against this scenery that Thor is taken on hunts of various species of megafauna: bears, seal, elk, and of course mammoth. By night Thor feasts upon the flesh of the beasts he’d felled. Thor is disappointed to learn that mammoth is rather bland and chewy, but it is certainly better than the offal stew that the Jotuns sometimes serve. 

Ice-fishing is also not quite to Thor's taste. Sitting on a stool in the middle of a frozen lake waiting for a fish to bite is not exactly Thor’s idea of a good time. He bears it admirably, viewing it as something of a character-building exercise. With nothing else to keep his mind off the blistering cold, Thor's thoughts invariably drift towards Loki. The memory of him is both tantalizing and mystifying. Thor cannot pinpoint where he’d misstepped. Had he said something wrong? Offended Loki in some way? Thor cannot say. He only hopes that he gets a chance to speak with him again. 

After many weeks of travelling, Thor returns to Utgard feeling much more empathetic to the Jotun plight than he ever did before. That was the point of this trip, after all. And despite the freezing temperatures and questionable food, Thor is glad he came. He has learned a great deal about the customs, beliefs and values of the Jotuns. If they are to be his subjects, Thor should at least take time to understand them. 

Upon returning to Utgard, Thor is granted a warm reception by Helblindi-King himself. Helblindi is eager to hear of Thor’s many adventures, and is utterly pleased to hear that the tour had gone so well. To celebrate, Thor and Helblindi sign the Treaty of Everlasting Peace - the culmination of years of diplomatic maneuvering. The moment they set down their quills, Utgard’s bells resound in triumph and the assembled Jotuns erupt in ululations. Restoring Jotunheim to the bosom of Nine Realms will do wonders to boost its flagging economy. Trade can now be reestablished between Jotunheim and the other Realms. Given enough time, Thor might even consider returning the Casket of Ancient Winters to its ancestral home. But that is still far in the future: Thor does not dislike Helblindi-King, but he’s not sure he trusts him - not yet. Helblindi will have to prove himself a loyal ally to Asgard before Thor will even think about relinquishing the Casket to him. Nonetheless, this treaty is a pivotal first step in setting to rights the mistakes of the past.

Loki is present at Helblindi’s side throughout the formalities, dressed head to toe in a long overcoat belted at the waist with a green sash. With that red paint slathered around his eyes, he’s as exotic and alluring as ever. Thor tries to get Loki to look at him, but Loki’s gaze remains stubbornly unfocused, as if he’s staring at everything and nothing at once. Next to his brother, he is as quiet and placid as a shadow.

That night, a great feast is prepared. What starts as a formal affair soon devolves into a raucous party, with music and dancing and vast quantities of drink. Thor is all too happy to celebrate alongside his Jotun subjects. This is his last night in Jotunheim, so he elects to enjoy himself as he may. Thor partakes liberally of Jotun mead, having not quite acquired a taste for the fermented yak’s milk that seems to be so popular here. Their mead is very good, and very strong, even for one with as hardy a constitution as Thor. 

When Thor looks up from his tankard, he notices Loki making his way towards him. Thor’s heart starts to race with anticipation until he hears what Loki has to say.

"May I fill your cup, my lord?"

Thor searches his face for any sign of the intimacy they’d shared that night. He’s disappointed to find nothing but an unreadable mask. 

"Yes,” Thor says, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Loki-Prince."

Loki continues to replenish his tankard until Thor is so deep in his cups he can hardly keep his head upright. He tries to get Loki to talk to him, but every answer Loki gives is overly polite and clipped, as if they hadn’t tongue-kissed on the couch in Thor’s room. Thor soon gives up on extracting anything out of him. He’ll be back in Asgard by tomorrow anyway, so there isn’t much point in trying to establish a rapport with the young Jotun prince.

The festivities start to dwindle as the night wears on. Thor thanks his hosts emphatically for their hospitality and excuses himself. He somehow makes it to his rooms, staggering like a deer pierced with arrows. He'll no doubt be hungover for the Bifrost trip home. An unpleasant thought, that.

Thor strips himself of his clothing and flops down onto his bed, groaning at the feel of the fur on his bare skin. He closes his eyes, although it doesn’t stop him from feeling like the bed is spinning. He must doze off, because he wakes later in the night. He realizes, once again, that there’s an intruder in his room. It’s Loki, standing at his bedside, watching him.

"Loki….?" Thor croaks. "What are you -"

Loki doesn't say anything. Then, in one smooth motion, he climbs in next to Thor and pulls back the fur blankets to reveal Thor’s nude body. Thor shivers both at being exposed to the cool air and at being thusly inspected. He’s not at all ashamed of his body, but he is also without his complete complement of faculties. He’s still so drunk that all he can do is lie there and let Loki look at him.

Loki, meanwhile, is still dressed from head to toe in his long cloak from earlier. Thor can barely make out his features in the darkness, but as far as he can tell, Loki’s face is just as blank as it was during the feast.

“Loki?” Thor says again.

Still, nothing. Loki remains silent as he unceremoniously reaches for Thor's cock. Thor yelps at the unexpected touch. Not that it’s unwelcome - Thor is instantly thrilled at the direction this visit is taking. But his excitement is dampened when Loki only moves his cock aside to grab at his testicles, cradling them firmly with one hand. Loki presses his other hand to his own lower abdomen and starts to murmur something in a language Thor doesn't understand. All Thor knows is that even this gentle handling has got him hard. He thrusts pathetically into Loki’s hand: a plea for Loki to pay some attention to his cock. But Loki’s grip on his balls does not waver.  

“Loki, please,” Thor groans. 

This goes on for another torturous minute or two until at last Loki finishes whatever it is he’s saying. Then Loki hitches up his robes, revealing long, bare blue legs, and seats himself astride Thor’s hips. Thor moans at the feeling of Loki’s cool skin over his thighs -he’s nude underneath. Thor remembers distantly that runlings are said to have warm, lush cunts. Thor still couldn’t say for certain whether that’s true, as he can’t see anything with Loki’s long overcoat in the way. Cunt or ass - Thor doesn't care where Loki sticks it so long as he sticks it somewhere.

Intuiting Thor’s need, Loki reaches underneath his robe, takes Thor’s cock in hand, and guides it towards his opening. Then, very slowly, he penetrates himself on Thor’s cock, letting out a breathy cry as he sinks down. Thor groans raggedly as pleasure overwhelms him. Loki feels exquisite. It must be true that he’s got a cunt. He's tight, tighter than even a fist. The muscle clenches around his cock spastically, so very alive and vital. His insides are as hot as his skin is cool. It's maddening.

When Loki finally impales himself fully, he sits there, unmoving, for what feels like an excruciatingly long time. His breath comes out in humid pants from parted lips. 

"Move," Thor slurs, used to giving commands but in no position to enforce them. 

Loki does, slowly. He rocks on Thor tentatively, not yet quite acclimatized to the considerable girth of Thor’s cock inside him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and he braces his hands on Thor’s chest to keep himself seated upright. 

Hazily, Thor thinks it is a shame he is too drunk to fully appreciate this. He’s bedding Loki, the runtling Prince of Jotunheim! Thor wishes he could see more of Loki’s skin, but Loki is still frustratingly dressed. Even his hair is still tied back, although a few tendrils have escaped and are clinging to the sweat on Loki’s brow. 

Thor has to get Loki moving faster, so he grips Loki by the hips and thrusts upwards, making Loki whimper. His black lacquered nails dig into Thor’s chest, but the pain only stokes the flames of Thor’s lust. Thor uses his hands to try and encourage Loki to ride him harder. Loki resists this for a moment, until finally he quickens his pace and starts to roll his hips in earnest. Their bodies soon synch in a matching rhythm, and Thor throws his head back and moans. His grip on Loki’s hips is bruising. The noises Loki is making are wildly erotic: soft, breathy gasps staccatoed with the occasional wet-sounding sob. Thor is so blissed-out that he doesn’t even notice at first that Loki is saying something. 

“Come for me.”

Thor lies there dumbly, too overwhelmed to speak. Loki takes Thor’s jaw in his hand and forces Thor to look up at him. Then he says it again.

“Come for me, Thor.”

And Thor does, spectacularly. He forces Loki’s hips down one last time as he thrusts up into him, riding out his pleasure into Loki’s willing body. Loki cries out with each sharp jab into him. Thor spills copiously inside, coating Loki’s receptive cunt with warm ropes of come.

Exhausted, Thor goes limp and falls backwards into the bed, panting heavily. The ecstasy of orgasm pulses through his body, magnified several times over by the idyllic caress of the fur beneath him. Thor sighs contentedly as he catches his breath. He feels Loki dismount, but he’s too depleted to even open his eyes. Within moments, Thor falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

***

Thor wakes in the morning alone and confused. He isn’t sure if he'd dreamt it all. But when he looks down at himself, he notes the telltale claw marks on his chest. Moreover, when he pulls back the blankets, he realizes there’s dried blood on the sheets and on his cock. 

...Loki had been a virgin?

Although Thor is delighted to have claimed Loki-Prince's maidenhead, he wishes he'd been more lucid for it. He could have shown Loki such pleasure! As it is, he was a lazy fuck. All he did was lie there like a stone. Loki must have thought him a terrible bore. Thor prides himself on his sexual prowess, and it embarrasses him to have given Loki a mediocre experience for his first time. Surely Loki knows he would have been a better lay had he not been so drunk! Thor can hardly be blamed for his lackluster performance.

Ah, well. Perhaps his next visit to Jotunheim...

***

Thor is glad to return to Asgard, despite the decidedly unpleasant Bifrost trip. He had forgotten what having warm feet feels like. Thor’s counsellors eagerly receive him. Thor is pleased to report that everything had gone swimmingly. The treaty has been signed, and trade with Jotunheim will resume presently. But, other pressing duties await, and the success of Thor's sojourn in Jotunheim quickly fades from the forefront of Thor's mind. Thor has many concubines and lovers who require his attention, after all. Thor would be remiss if he didn’t spend some of his energies ministering to their needs.

Thor thinks of Loki from time to time. How could he not? What other Asgardian has bedded a Jotun runtling? And not just any runtling - the Prince of Jotunheim?

Thor wishes he could boast of his impressive sexual conquest, but it embarrasses him to have been so drunk for the duration of it. His memory of that night is patchy at best. He couldn't provide any detail of Loki's Jotun anatomy, which would be the first thing Volstagg would ask about were Thor to tell him about it. Still, it pleases Thor to know that Loki had chosen him as his first bed partner. Thor likes to think Loki did it on purpose. After all, Thor is just as much of a prize as Loki is. Who better to give one’s virginity to than Thor, the Golden King of Asgard, God of Thunder?

Thor relishes this secret and elects to take it to his grave - his own private triumph. No one will ever know of his dalliance with the Prince of Jotunheim. 

That is Thor’s intention, anyway.

“Your Majesty,” a herald says, panting, as he rushes towards Thor’s throne. “Urgent news from Jotunheim.”

“Helblindi-King?”

The herald shakes his head. “No, sire. It’s the King’s brother, Prince Loki.”

Thor is surprised. He hadn’t heard a single word from Loki since the night they’d spent together weeks ago. Thor is immediately both pleased and intrigued. 

“And? What does the Prince have to say?"

“Sire,” The herald gulps, “Prince Loki is with child and has publicly announced that it is yours.”