Loki is standing in front of a market stall admiring some fine glass ornaments when the back of his neck is hit with something hard and cold. The ice stings against his skin and he whips around, beady red eyes searching for the culprit behind this egregious assault. Immediately he spots the vagrant oaf, a rough-looking boy about his age with a sharp jaw and braided blonde hair that hangs loosely to his shoulders. He grins a stupid smile at Loki and bounces on his heels, juggling a large snowball in his hands.
“You hit me,” Loki says, affronted. His fingers tingle at his sides, and not from the cold. He wishes that his tutors would have taught him some combat spells, as he has been asking for some weeks, or he would have had this rambunctious fool laid out in the snow before him.
“Well that’s the point. Now you hit me back!”
Loki frowns. That sounds ridiculous. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step closer to the boy. “That sounds foolish. Why would I do that?”
“It’s a game,” he says, smiling, and tosses his snowball into the air. It lands firmly in his palm and then he swivels, takes his aim, and launches the snowball at one of the meaner market clerks, Thrym. It hits the giant square in the face and Loki gasps in astonishment. He angrily wipes off their face and looks around for the culprit. The boy quickly turns and grabs Loki’s hand, running with him through the throngs of Jotnar and foreign visitors shopping in the marketplace to escape Thrym’s wrath.
“Now it’s your turn!” he says, and he bends down and picks up a handful of snow and slaps it into Loki’s bare hands. Loki looks down at the pile of snow and ice shards in confusion. He wiggles his fingers and some of the flakes flutter to the ground, landing on his bare feet with a soft plop . He looks curiously at the boy.
“What do I do with it?”
“You’ve never made a snowball before?” he asks. He seems just as shocked as Loki felt when he was first pelted by one of them. He frowns and shakes his head. The boy smiles and reaches out, cupping Loki’s hands in his own. “I’ll show you.”
Loki frowns, looking down at his hands cupped within those of the larger boy’s. Now his fingers are tingling again, but for an entirely different reason and one he cannot quite place. The snowball is surprisingly easy to form, and once Loki is holding the packed little orb in his hands he looks up at the boy again for guidance.
“And now I just throw it at someone?”
Loki smirks and he takes a step back, and then with all the force he can muster he pelts the snowball right at the boy’s face. He looks very stunned for half a moment, and then he smiles that stupid grin again and doubles over with laughter. “Alright, I think I deserved that,” he says gleefully, and reaches out to grab Loki’s hand again. “Now come on, there’s a snowball fight at the top of the hill and my team is one giant short!”
Loki stumbles after the boy for a couple seconds, not sure of how he is supposed to respond. “My name is Loki,” he says.
“I’m Thor,” the boy answers.
“Are we friends now?”
Thor brightens at that. “Of course we’re friends. We could even be best friends if you want!”
Loki smiles. He’s never had a best friend before. He spends the entire afternoon playing with Thor and a bunch of other children from the village, and by the end of the day, he can’t wait to see Thor again. The scolding that he receives from Laufey for disappearing from the market is worth it, even, because tomorrow he has a date to play with Thor again... and he cannot wait.
“I am going to be the fiercest warrior in all of Jotunheim!” Thor bellows, and he wiggles his practice blade a little too close to Loki’s neck for his liking. He holds his hand up and directs a wave of Seidr in Thor’s direction, and the sword bends away from his face.
“I am sure,” he says dryly. Thor smiles unabashedly at him, and Loki’s lips quirk upwards at the corners. He watches Thor waving his sword around for a little while longer before he turns his attention back to his books. His father has told him that if he can master levitation spells by the winter’s end, he will send Loki to Alfheim during the summer to study conjuring charms.
He is concentrating deeply on a particularly interesting passage when he feels Thor’s hot breath against his shoulder, and he turns to glare at his best friend. It’s been nearly two hundred years since he first met that chubby, rambunctious boy in the market stall, and though Thor has grown into a sturdy and handsome young man he is still just as ungraceful and blundering as he was all those years ago.
“What do you want?”
“What are you reading?”
“Alvish runes,” Loki answers shortly, not looking up from his book. He has plenty of studying to do, and he cannot pause every time Thor requires his attention. Which is quite often, because Thor is a bit of a whore.
“They must be very interesting. You haven’t looked up for fifteen minutes.”
“I am trying to study,” Loki answers, and he tries his best to look very annoyed. He’s pretty sure that he fails, though, because Thor is still smiling at him and wiggling his sword about.
“Surely you can take a break to spar with me. The trials for the Junior Royal Guard are coming up in one month, and I need to prepare myself.”
Loki purses his lips. “You don’t need to practice with me. Thor, you are the General’s son. You’re going to make it in.”
Thor puffs out his chest, narrowing his eyes at Loki. “Not with that attitude, little Prince.” Loki glares at Thor’s use of that infernal nickname. “I cannot become the best warrior in the country riding on my father’s horns. I need more practice if I am to become your personal Guard one day.” He pauses, deflating a little when Loki simply blinks at him. He pouts. “Don’t you want me to succeed, Loki?”
“Of course I do,” he says, and he sets his book aside with a sigh. He stands up, stretching in a cat-like manner and walking gracefully past Thor. He picks up a practice sword from the wall of the courtyard, testing its weight in each of his hands. When he decides he is satisfied he steps forward, taking a defensive stance in front of Thor.
“Alright, my friend. Try to hit me,” he says. Thor grins and swings widely at Loki’s neck; he dodges the blow and pokes his sword into Thor’s bicep. Loki snickers and dances around Thor mockingly, but his gloating is short lived as Thor delivers a harsh blow to his stomach and takes him down. He helps him up again and they reset, and for several hours they work out in an adolescent imitation of a true battle. As the sun begins to set it begins to snow, and Loki drops his sword to stick out his tongue and catch the bitter flakes on his tongue.
“Let me walk you home,” Thor says as he tosses his sword to the courtyard floor. He dogs after Loki, holding out his arm for the young giant to take. Loki wraps his dainty fingers around the bulk of Thor’s arm and flashes him a small smile.
“I suppose it’s the least you could do after stealing my afternoon away with your sparring practice.”
“Hey!” Thor scoffs, “You can do your reading anytime. There are only a handful of perfect, chilly days like these per year.”
“Tomorrow we can go snow bathing if you like. You can even bring your books! I promise I won’t bother you.”
Loki laughs. “Now that is certainly a lie. You always bother me.”
“And yet you love me,” Thor beams. Loki rolls his eyes, and in silence they walk together a few more feet.
“We can go snow bathing tomorrow. Come to the palace at dawn… We can break fast together and then ride out. How does that sound?”
Thor beams. “I like the sound of that.”
In the morning Thor collects Loki from the palace gates, and they ride out on the backs of their Bilgesnipes to their favorite spot, a hidden cold springs that they discovered many years ago. They tether their Bilgesnipes to some rocks near the pool and each strip off their clothes efficiently. Loki prides himself that his eyes barely even linger on Thor’s muscular back and thighs as he lets his cloak fall to the floor.
“Well this is quite nice,” Thor sighs as he reclines into the pool, wading through the big chunks of ice and snow that have collected after last night’s storm. “This was a wonderful idea, Loki.”
“It was your idea,” Loki says, dropping his own cloak and splashing after Thor into the pool. Thor smiles and laughs.
“Oh yes, of course,” he says with a cocky grin that indicates that he knew very well whose ideas this trip was. “It’s been such a warm winter. I’m glad we’ve finally gotten some decent snow.” He collects some snow from the bank of the pool and rubs it on his bare chest. Loki watches with keen eyes, and Thor holds out his palm full of snow to offer his friend. “You want some?”
“Oh… yes, sure,” he swims closer to Thor, nearly jumping when he feels their legs brush beneath the water. Unintentionally he turns away, hiding his blushing cheeks against his shoulder. Fleetingly, he wonders why he is feeling so self-conscious. He and Thor have been naked around one another dozens of times and he never felt so nervous before. Thor pokes him in his arm, dispelling Loki from his thoughts.
“Do you want me to rub it on your back?” He asks. Loki balks.
“What? No!” He turns harshly, collecting the snow from Thor’s hands and quickly rubbing it all over his own chest. Thor looks at him with a mix of surprise and confusion, but thankfully he doesn’t question him, only shrugs and turns his attention back to collecting snow from the edge of the pool. Loki sighs and tries his best to relax, reclining in the cold water and enjoying the smell of the freshly fallen snow.
After a long morning soaking in the cold and enjoying the snow, Thor and Loki head back to the palace. There, Laufey is waiting at the gates for his son with a stern frown.
“Loki, where have you been?” he chastises as Loki hops down from his Bilgesnipe and tethers her to a nearby post. Loki glances at Thor and bites his lip.
“We went to the cold springs, father. For snowbathing.”
Laufey scowls. “Ah. And I suppose you simply forgot your lessons with Angrboda this morning? She’s been waiting for you since sun-up.”
Loki sighs. “Father…,” he whines, and glances back to Thor again. His friend looks back at him guiltily, no doubt feeling bad for having gotten Loki into trouble with his father, the King. Loki’s chin droops. “It was only one lesson, and it hasn’t snowed like this all season. And I wanted to spend time with Thor…”
“Ah, yes. Thor,” Laufey says very knowingly, and he settles his dark red eyes on the General’s son. Thor does his best to hold his head high, but under the scrutiny of his King, even the bravest junior warrior of Jotunheim wilts a little bit.
Laufey’s lips settle into a grim line as he looks the young giant up and down, and for just a moment Loki fears that his father might do something rash, like banish Thor from visiting the palace anymore, or forbid Loki from seeing him any longer. His young heart breaks a little at the very idea, and he looks up at his father with pleading eyes. Laufey sees the look on his son’s face and he lets out a little sigh.
“Well, if it will encourage you to attend your lessons, I suppose that Thor will just have to join you. Seidr is an important skill even for warriors to know. With his father’s consent, I will pay for Thor’s studies myself.”
“Your Highness,” Thor gasps, bending on his knee as he addresses his King. “Surely you are too generous. I could never accept--”
“Do you not want to?” Laufey interrupts, his eyebrows raised reproachfully. Thor stutters, his eyes flickering between Loki’s hopeful (pleading) expression and Laufey’s judgemental one.
“Of- of course I do, Your Highness. It’s just--”
“Then you will attend Seidr studies with Loki. Now come on, you two must be hungry after such a long morning in the snow. We can dine for lunch together and then Thor will go speak to his father about starting Seidr lessons. And you , little Prince,” he turns his gaze on his youngest son, “will attend to your studies as you should have this morning.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Thor answers, and Loki follows his declaration with a dutiful, “Yes, father.” Thor remains on bended knee until Laufey turns away and begins his trek up the walkway to the palace entrance. Loki waits for Thor at the gate, practically bouncing as he takes Thor’s proffered arm and leads him up the walkway.
“Oh, Thor, this is so exciting! I have so much to teach you to get you caught up. This is going to be such fun …”
“Happy nameday, Thor,” Loki says as the doors to Thor’s chambers swing open, and he bestows a gentle kiss to his cheek. This leaves Thor’s face tinted dark indigo as the Crown Prince pulls away, beaming at his best friend.
“You know, I always forget that you are two hundred years older than me,” he says as he bustles into the room, not even asking if he has permission to enter. After more than half a millenia of friendship, they each feel as welcome in each other’s homes as if they lived there themselves. “What with you blundering around all the time like a 500 year old…”
“Aye, but you enjoy my blundering. I’d even argue that you find me amusing, from time to time.”
Loki scoffs. “Only very rarely,” he says. Thor smiles brightly at him, obviously very pleased with himself, and Loki rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have a feast to be dressing for?” he snaps, arms crossed over his chest. “You should be in full armour, and here you are standing in just your breeches.”
“And still you kissed me,” Thor teases. Loki scoffs, and Thor smiles cheekily at him. “You should be careful, little Prince. We might cause quite the scandal if anybody saw you.”
“It was only on the cheek!” Loki cries, and tosses one of the pillows from Thor’s bed at his head. He catches the cushion midair, using it as a shield when Loki picks up another and chucks it at his head again.
“Now how can I dress if you keep assaulting me with pillows? Hey!” He cries, glaring at Loki when one of the pillows actually hits him square in the face. “That actually hurts, you know.”
“Do not call me ‘Little Prince’,” he snaps. Thor throws his hands up in the air.
“I’m sorry, Loki. It’s only that you’re so short, and I think it’s very cute-- hey! Watch it!” He swats another pillow away from his face and glares at Loki. “Fine, I yield! I apologize. Now will you let me get dressed, or will you have me attend my own feast in just my breeches?”
Loki hums thoughtfully, as though he is actually considering it. Knowing how mercurial Loki tends to me, Thor doesn’t doubt that he might actually be considering it. “I have to say, the view is quite enjoyable…”
“Oh, you are such a flirt,” Thor says with a little smile, and turns away to slide a tunic over the top of his head. He ties a belt around his midsection and goes to pick up his arm plates. Loki hops off of Thor’s bed and steps forward, taking the arm plates from his hands and deftly securing them to Thor’s massive biceps. Thor allows him to do this, eyes tracking Loki’s movements closely.
“You know, it only just occurred to me that it is my nameday and you haven’t given me a present.”
“What, the kiss wasn’t present enough?”
“Well, it was only on the cheek,” Thor teases, laughing when Loki scowls at him. Loki cinches the arm brace a little tighter than he needs to.
“I should slap you, Odinson,” he says, and picks up the chest plate to fit to Thor’s body. He only grins, pulling his long braid out of the way as Loki fastens the plate to his chest. “I did get you a present, as a matter of fact. But you are so insolent I don’t think I should give it to you now.”
“Oh, Loki…” Thor whines, and he reaches out to touch Loki’s cheek and tuck his soft, black curls behind his ear. Loki stills at the touch, dark red eyes going soft at the feel of Thor’s knuckles on his cheek. “Please?”
Loki sighs. “You are lucky that like you.” he says. He finishes securing Thor’s chest plate to his torso and then turns away, going over to the door. “I will be right back,” he says, and he slips from the room and closes the door behind him.
When Loki returns Thor is fully dressed and sitting on his bed, fiddling with his hair. Loki will never be able to understand how (or why) Thor refuses to use a mirror when he does his hair. He enters the room carrying a large box, and Thor’s eyes light up at the sight of it. Loki places it at his feet with a smile, and gestures to the box with a flourish.
“Straight from the forges of Nidavellir. I hope you like it, because I nearly lost my head for the thing.”
“Is that so?” Thor asks with his eyebrows raised, tearing at the wrapping paper carelessly. Loki watches excitedly, his heart pounding anxiously as Thor pries the box open. He really does hope that Thor will enjoy the present inside. “Oh, wow. Loki,” he breathes when he opens the box and pulls from it a short-handled hammer of massive size. He swings it in front of him, testing its weight in his palm. He turns it over, admiring the shine of the mallet and the ancient runes carved into the stone. “This is amazing.”
“She is called Mjolnir,” Loki says, a smile brimming at his lips. “She is enchanted. Only the most worthy of warriors can wield this weapon. When you swing to kill, the hammer will always find its mark. And when you throw it, it will always return to your hand. With this hammer you can direct your Seidr, too. She will help you control your powers and use them to your advantage in battle.”
“This is an amazing gift, Loki,” Thor says, and he looks at Loki with widened eyes. “This is too much.”
“Oh, Thor,” Loki shakes his head. “Just accept the gift and say thank you. Don’t start with this ‘it’s too generous’ nonsense.”
“But it is! I’m only a General’s son. I don’t deserve such lavish gifts from you…”
“Aye, you are a General’s son. And the best warrior in all of Jotunheim. And also the best friend of the Crown Prince,” Loki smirks a little, and he reaches out to playfully tug at Thor’s hair. “And you are a man today. Please accept my gift.”
Thor looks conflicted, but after a short pause ultimately he nods. He picks up the hammer again and turns it over, smiling at the runes that have been painstakingly etched into the mallet. Finally, he smiles up at Loki. “I will have to get you an amazing gift for your coming of age.”
Loki grins. “I am looking forward to it.”
Loki stands tall and proud in all of his regalia: dark leather pants with golden trim and a golden belt, golden plated fastenings for his arms and wrists that sparkle in the light, a pristine white cloak of Vargr wolf fur, and golden body jewelry that hangs around his hips and from his nipples on his bare chest. His heritage lines are on full display for the entire room to see, and he bears them proudly as they proclaim him the future King of Jotunheim. Upon his short horns he wears golden chains adorned with jewels of the finest bearing. He walks gracefully on bare feet, and even his toes sparkle with golden rings.
He walks through a throng of his people towards his father, where he sits upon his ice-carved throne and waits for the approach of his son. Laufey rises as Loki nears, and when he reaches the marble steps leading up to the throne he drops to both knees before his father. Laufey smiles and rests a gentle hand on the top of his son’s head.
“My little Prince,” he says fondly, quiet enough that only Loki can hear. His red eyes flicker up to meet his father’s, and there he finds only an expression of pride and love. His lips quirk at the corners and he bows his head as his father’s voice booms through the hall.
“Today, on his 1200th birthday, my son Loki becomes a man.” He says. The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers, and the roar does not dim for quite a while. Finally Laufey holds his hand to silence the crowd. From thin air, he conjures into his hands the Casket of Ancient Winters. “The Casket. Its resilience is admirable, its power is strong. With it I have governed Jotunheim and protected the lives of the Jotnar for 5000 years. And though the day has come for a new King to wield his own weapon -- that duty remains the same. Loki Laufeyson,” he rests a hand on Loki’s shoulder, “my heir, my first-born.”
The crowd erupts, once again, into a chorus of cheers. Loki smiles and looks up at his father, then turns his head and looks over his shoulder at the crowd. Out of the corner of his eyes he spots Thor at the front of the room, cheering louder than any of the rest. He winks, and Thor smiles and whoops.
“So long entrusted with the power of my Seidr. The heritage lines on his skin hold true, and tell the proud story of my ancestors as they forged a home on this icy planet, and used their Seidr to give life to a land that was once barren, warm and dry. The power of these magicks knows no equal- as a weapon, to destroy, or as a tool, to build. It is a fit companion for a King.
“Today I entrust you with the greatest honor in all the Nine Realms. The sacred throne of Jotunheim. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. So, too, must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace. Responsibility, duty, honor. These are not merely virtues to which we must aspire. They are essential to every soldier and to every King.
“Loki Laufeyson, do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?”
“I swear,” Loki says, voice steady and true.
“Do you swear to protect your people, the Jotnar?”
“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself to the good of the Realms?”
“Then on this day, I, Laufey King, proclaim you, Loki Laufeyson the new King of Jotunheim.” He lays the Casket before his son, and upon his head he places a golden-horned helmet. Loki rises, a wide smile on his lips. He steps forward into his father’s embrace, and then he turns to face the room full of his people, arms outstretched.
“Thank you all,” he cries. The crowd erupts into cheers, and somebody shouts, “Long live the King!” Loki is pretty sure that it’s Thor, though in the din of the room he can’t confirm anything. The crowd continues to cheer and Loki smiles, his cheeks going dark from all the attention.
Later that night, after many glasses of wine, Thor escorts Loki safely back to his chambers. They clamber inside quite noisily, Loki giggling loudly in Thor’s ear as he practically carries Loki towards his bed. They exchange sweet and messy kisses; Loki’s lips taste like mulberry wine, Thor’s breath like honey mead. Thor settles Loki onto the edge of the mattress and kneels on the floor in front of him, cupping his face in his hands.
“Loki, my King,” Thor is breathless already. Loki smiles bashfully at Thor’s reverent tone; his best friend has always treated him like he is the most precious thing in the world. (Loki has never disagreed with him, either). “I love you, my heart . Will you let me stay with you tonight?”
“Oh Thor,” Loki smiles and dips his head to press a slow, sweet kiss to his lips. “Yes. Please. You have my undying fidelity and love. Please stay.”
Thor’s smile seems brighter than the sun, and he kisses Loki sweetly before he pulls away all of a sudden, excited because he has remembered something. “I have a present for you.”
“You do?” Loki’s lips spread into a sleek and eager smile. “Show me.”
“Here,” he says, and he goes to the edge of the room by the window, where Loki had not even noticed there was a neatly wrapped box sitting on the windowsill. It is thin and rectangular, wrapped in clean brown paper and tied with string. “I made them myself.”
“Oh, don’t spoil the surprise!” Loki cries, and snatches the present excitedly from Thor’s hands. He takes care as he unwraps it, untying the knots and peeling the paper back slowly. In anticipation he chews his lips, and when the present is completely unwrapped he finds he is holding a long, smooth wooden box in his hands.
He unclasps it and flips the top open, and gasps at what is inside. It is a set of four daggers, each carved painstakingly from Bilgesnipe ivory. Loki fingers one of the knives, running the ball of his finger along the sharp edge. “Thor…” he breathes, and looks up at his best friend with wonder in his eyes. “You made these for me?”
“I would be your guard, but a king should be able to protect himself as well. I figured that you deserve a set of daggers made from material as strong as you are.”
Loki huffs out a little laugh and turns his attention back to the daggers. He picks one up, gesturing with it like he is going to stab somebody, and then flips the knife in his palm. On the handle, he notices an inscription scrawled in Thor’s sloppy penmanship: He with a short knife must try, try again. Loki’s lips wobble as he reads over the inscription again and again, and finally he looks up at Thor, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He lets out a harsh breath and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
“Thank you, Thor,” he whispers. Thor steps closer, and cups Loki’s cheek.
“You know, I think I am going to miss calling you Little Prince now that you are king,” he says after a beat, and Loki huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes. Thor smiles. “I always have marveled at your bravery, Loki. You may be shorter than the rest of us, but to me, you have never been small.”
“Oh, Thor,” Loki says, and he throws his arms around his best friend’s neck and he kisses him. “Shut up and come to bed with me,” he chokes out through a tear-filled smile.
“Yes,” Thor says and he clambers to his feet and pushes Loki back onto the bed. He makes quick work of removing Loki’s cloak and leather pants, though he allows the body jewelry to remain, and enjoys the startled moan from Loki’s lips when he reaches out and gives the piercing on his left nipple a tug.
These are new; a symbol of his royal status and his manhood. Thor plucks at the pebbled nub again and Loki groans, thrusting his chest into his palms. He bends down and takes one pointed nipple into his mouth, dragging his tongue around the sensitive areola and tugging at the piercing with his teeth. Loki cries out and jerks beneath him, and he clings to Thor with his hands on his biceps and long legs wrapped around his torso.
“Tho-or,” he moans, breath ragged. “Let me see you, let me touch you,” he demands. Thor nods in agreement and quickly strips his own clothing off, so he is completely bare like Loki. Loki places his hands on Thor’s chest, thumbing gently at the long and curved heritage lines that swirl all over his body. He shivers when Thor bends down to kiss his neck behind his ear.
“You are so beautiful,” he says. Thor smiles against his neck and kisses his earlobe. He carves out a path of kisses along Loki’s neck and chest, slowly but carefully moving lower and lower.
“I want to taste you,” Thor says, and he parts Loki’s thighs with his hands and marvels at the length of his hardened cock, and the soft wet folds that lie hidden between his legs. He drags his thumb over the seam of Loki’s quim, feeling how wet and warm he is there already. “Can I have this, Loki? Will you give it to me?”
“Yes,” he moans and arches off of the bed when Thor takes his cock in hand and gives a a few cursory tugs. He pops the head into his mouth and hollows his cheeks, and he sucks hard. Loki cries out and jerks his hips, and his cock sinks deeper into Thor’s mouth. Thor groans and flicks his tongue against the head, already tasting precum leaking from his slit.
“Norns above,” Loki’s voice trembles and he fists the sheets. He had never imagined that Thor’s mouth on him would feel this good-- and trust, he has imagined it a thousand times in the past 300 years. He reaches down to fist a hand in Thor’s long hair, tangling his fingers into the messy braid and pulling gently. “Your mouth is sinful. Ymir’s tits you are good at this…”
“I’ve had many years to think about this,” Thor finishes sucking his cock with a soft pop and turns his attention southward to Loki’s quim. His thumb parts the soft folds of his cunt and his tongue darts out for a taste test. Loki shivers, and Thor hums appreciatively. “How many nights I went to bed thinking of you… of how I would worship your body, take you apart piece by piece and then put you together again,” he licks Loki again, flicking his tongue against his clit. Loki whines and thrashes his hips, and Thor slides his fingers into the wetness of his cunt. “I have wondered what you would taste like for half a thousand years.”
Loki groans. “Am I living up to your expectations?”
Thor smiles against his cunt lips. “You are surpassing them,” he says, and he pushes his tongue inside and swirls it, suckling at the juices that flow freely from between Loki’s thighs. His beard is wet with it when he draws away, and Loki moans at the sight and his cock jumps against his belly, oozing precum.
“Come here,” Loki commands, and he guides Thor back to where they are facing each other. He kisses his lips and tastes himself on the giant’s tongue. He smiles sweetly and does it again, this time pushing his tongue inside of Thor’s mouth and drawing him closer. As they kiss Loki slips his hand between them, palming Thor’s cock (which he notices is larger than he remembers it being, the last time he saw Thor naked a few hundred years ago) and letting his fingers slip lower, exploring the soft folds of Thor’s own cunt.
“You are so hairy,” Loki snickers against his lips when they pull apart, and Thor blushes an unflattering shade of indigo. Loki kisses the apples of his cheeks and smiles at him. “I like it,” he says, and slips two fingers between the folds of Thor’s cunt. His breath hitches and he closes his eyes, grinding back against Loki’s hand. He buries his fingers past the knuckle and Thor moans.
“Are you going to fuck me, Lo?” he asks, breathless.
“No,” Loki withdraws his fingers from Thor’s luscious cunt and brings them up to his face, sucking them clean. Thor’s pupils dilate as he watches, slack-jawed, and Loki grins. “Not to say I wouldn’t relish in fucking your delicious, hairy pussy full of my cock,” Loki clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “But I have waited too long to feel you inside of me to deny myself any longer. Thor,” he smiles and slides his legs apart, spreading his cunt lips with the same fingers he only just had inside of Thor, “Service your King.”
Thor groans and drops his head against Loki’s chest like a man who has been struck down by a fatal blow. Loki smiles and strokes Thor’s long hair from his face, tucking his soft blonde strands behind his ears and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Please, Thor, I need you,” he says breathlessly.
Thor kisses him fiercely and reaches between his thighs to finger him again. Loki moans and squirms under all of Thor’s delightful attention. He works in two, then three, then four whole fingers before he finally gives Loki the satisfaction of feeling his cock inside his body. He feeds the head into Loki’s quim slowly, gently, and Loki rocks against him and moans through the entire thing. Even with all of Thor’s careful preparation, he is so big inside of Loki’s tight cunt.
“Am I your first?” Thor pants as he slides inside, hips jerking forward instinctively, muscles flexing as he does his best to hold himself back. “Am I the first giant to take pleasure from this body?” he gasps. He drags his tongue across Loki’s tits and nibbles at his neck as Loki quakes and moans, chest heaving as he struggles to draw in breath. Thor whimpers against his neck. “Please, Loki, I need to know.”
“Yes! Yes, Thor, you are the first. It’s only ever been you,” he cries, and they moan together as Thor bottoms out inside of him. Thor doesn’t pull back for some time after that, still catching his breath, trying not to finish too soon. He kisses all over Loki’s face, cradles his head in his palms as he slowly begins to jerk and grind his cock inside of Loki’s cunt.
“Ymir’s tits,” Thor’s voice trembles as he fucks into Loki’s tight cunt. He bends to suck at Loki’s nipples, cupping his flat chest and leaving bite marks on the sensitive blue skin. “I’m not going to last. Loki, I can’t…”
“Finish inside of me,” Loki moans. Thor’s eyes widen minutely, his pupils dilating again with newfound lust. He thrusts faster, fingers digging bruises into Loki’s hips. “Please.”
“Yes. Yes,” he groans and spills, drops his head against Loki’s chest and lets out a hoarse cry. Inside of Loki’s cunt his cock pulses, his seed spilling in such thick spurts that it leaks out from around the length of his manhood. Loki trembles, still desperate even as his pussy clenches around Thor’s cock as he empties himself inside of Loki’s womb.
Thor reaches between them and takes Loki’s cock in hand, and quickly strips his length. Loki spills with a quiet gasp and a full tremble of his body. Despite the mess between them, they lie there for some time in the afterglow, silent except for their harsh breathing and the pounding of their hearts. After a while Thor groans and shifts, and his cock slips from inside of Loki, a mix of his cum and Loki’s fluids leaking out after him. He reaches down and smears his fingers into the mess, pushing some back inside with his fingers. Loki groans and lets his thighs fall open, smiling lazily at Thor.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I just don’t want any of it to go to waste,” Thor says with a brazen smile. Loki laughs and reaches out, wrapping his arms around his best friend’s neck and pulling him into a long-lasting kiss.
“We should take a bath,” Loki suggests wisely. Thor groans.
“But I am tired. I don’t want to get out of bed,” he whines. Loki shimmies his way out from underneath Thor’s mass, then nudges him hard in his side until he rolls off the bed. He falls onto the floor with a grunt and Loki peeks over the edge of the bed. He smiles at him.
“But you are already out of the bed, dearest.”
“I hate you.”
“Run it extra cold, will you? There is a bucket of ice in the lavatory.”
“I am not your servant, Loki!” Thor complains. He tries to climb back into the bed, but Loki laughs and uses his legs to push him away, keeping him off of the furs. Thor huffs and rolls his eyes, backing away and leveling Loki with an exasperated glare. Then he grins and lunges forward, tackling Loki back onto the bed and grabbing him around the hips. Loki screams and squirms, but Thor holds onto him and slings him over his back, laughing and shushing him as he carries him out of the bedroom.
“Quiet, or you’ll wake the guards.”
“You are the guard, you oaf,” Loki complains, slapping Thor on the ass as he walks. Thor simply laughs, and for the entire walk to the lavatory Loki rains harsh spankings on Thor’s asscheeks, until they glow a beautiful shade of purple. Thor finally sets Loki down at the edge of his private bathing pool, and immediately he reaches to his backside to rub at the tender flesh.
“You are not nice, sometimes,” Thor says, and turns to fill up the pool with the spigot connected to the wall. Loki grins at Thor and bats his eyelashes, spreads his arms and beckons his friend closer.
“Oh, come here love. Did I make your ass sting?” He asks, so innocently. Thor purses his lips prettily and nods. Loki reaches out and touches the flesh with his palm, sending out a wave of healing Seidr to instantly relieve the pain. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” Thor says with a smile. “And now I think it’s your turn,” he reaches for Loki’s ass greedily, and the young king squawks and jumps away from his grip.
“Come on, Lo, you’ll love it!”
“You said it hurts and that I was mean!”
“You are mean, that’s why I need to spank you.”
“Come here, you little--”
“Ow! You pinched me.”
“Because you’re squirming so much!”
“My dick is getting squashed by your thunder thighs.”
“I do not have thunder thighs , you little shit--”
“Will you hurry up? The water is getting warm and we don’t have all da-AYY!”
Loki jerks in surprise as Thor’s palm lands against his ass. His cock grinds nicely against Thor’s thigh when he’s hit, and his ass practically vibrates with warmth from the force of Thor’s hand against it. He gasps as another hit lands directly above the last one. Then another, then another. By the time Thor is done with his ass he can feel it throbbing, and his cock hangs heavily between his legs, blatant proof that he enjoyed the spanking as much as Thor said he would. He sits up in his lap and kisses him, and Loki pants against his mouth, moving his hips in little circles to grind his cock against the flesh of Thor’s belly.
“Finish me off,” he demands. Thor dutifully reaches for his cock and begins to pump the shaft. He twists his wrist and swipes his thumb over the head, smiling when Loki moans lewdly. He kisses him flush on the mouth as he spills into his palm, and when his hand is coated in Loki’s spend he brings it to his lips and sucks them clean. Loki grins, and pats Thor on the cheek affectionately.
“Come on, let’s bathe.”
In the middle of the night, they are woken by screaming and the sound of battle armour clanking in the halls. Loki tries to slide out of bed, but Thor pushes him back. “Stay there, Your Highness,” he says fiercely, and goes quickly to collect his sword and hammer from the pile of discarded clothing by the doorway.
“What do you think is happening?” Loki says, and he hops out of bed and goes to look out the window, despite Thor’s instructions. As soon as he presses himself against the glass the window shatters, a flaming arrow shooting through and piercing Loki’s shoulder. He gasps and collapses against the wall, holding his shoulder and hissing at the pain of the burn.
“Loki! I told you to stay put,” Thor shouts and rushes over, quickly conjuring some healing Seidr to treat the wound. Loki huffs and lets his head fall back against the concrete wall as Thor cares for his injury. He levels Thor with a hard look.
“My kingdom is under attack! I would not lie around in bed while Jotunheim falls under siege.”
“You’ll have yourself killed!” Thor shouts back at him, and at that moment the door bursts open, the hinge cracking as it is busted through. Thor springs to his feet in front of Loki, Mjolnir held in front of him and sword extended at the intruders. There are three of them, and when they step into the lamp light Loki instantly recognizes them as Aesir. Thor roars and throws his hammer at the head of the closest one to them, immediately knocking him to the floor, dead.
The other two charge, and he scrambles to dodge their blades. They begin to spar. As he delivers a killing blow to one he is startled by the other jumping upon his back, arms wrapped around his throat. He struggles to remove the fiend from his back as the air is choked from his lungs, when all of a sudden the weight disappears from his back and he hears a dull thud against the floor. He turns to find Loki crouching over him, still bleeding badly from his own wound, with one of his freshly-carved Bilgesnipe daggers in hand.
He scowls at the sight of the blade covered in scarlet liquid. “I hate to dirty this blade with foul Aesir blood.”
Thor helps Loki to his feet. “We should check on your father and brothers. Surely there are more where these three came from.” He steps over the corpses of the Aesir bandits and, with Loki’s hand in his own, they set out to find the other survivors and figure out what exactly has prompted this invasion from Asgard.
On the night of his coronation, Loki’s brother and father were both slaughtered agents of Asgard, sent by the Death Goddess Hela to assassinate the entire royal family and steal back Gungnir from the secret vaults below the palace. Heartbroken over the loss of his family and fearful for another attack on his capital, Loki is hasty to declare war against Asgard. His people rally behind him; they want revenge for Laufey and the royal family just as desperately as Loki needs it.
When Jotunheim goes to war, Thor goes with them. At first Loki protests and tries to convince him to stay and defend the capital, but Thor cannot be dissuaded.
“I have a duty to this country, Lo. A duty to you as my King,” he strokes Loki’s hollow cheek with a knuckle, brushing away a stray tear.
“I should order you to stay here as my Guard,” Loki says, and he clutches Thor’s hand in both of his own. He kisses each knuckle and rests his forehead against Thor’s fist. “I have lost everyone that I love. I do not want to lose you too.”
“You won’t lose me. I am the best warrior in all of Jotunheim!” Thor says, and Loki cannot help himself but smile. For a thousand years Thor has prepared for this day, and yet Loki cannot help but wish that it never came to pass. Thor steps closer, pulling Loki into a tight embrace and kissing his forehead. “I will come home soon, I promise.”
That was 300 years before now. Loki has visited the battlefield himself from time to time, over the years, always in his Astral form. Neither his council nor Thor would ever allow for the King to make his appearance in person.
The Jotun army is moving on Gladsheim this week. Loki eagerly awaits a falcon with word from the battlefield. In his last message, Thor told him that he anticipated victory, and was hopeful that the end of the war was within sight. Still, marching on the capital of Asgard does not come without risk. The Death Goddess Hela is the protector of that stronghold, and even the might of Thor and the entire Jotun army are hardly a match for her power.
When Loki receives this letter, he disregards the advice of his council for the first time in three hundred years. Hastily he takes his Bilgesnipe and rides to an open field, and when he it out in the open snow he uses his Seidr to conjure a tear between the branches of Yggdrasil to teleport himself to Asgard.
He arrives at the the frontline encampment with a flash of green Seidr, shouting from atop the back of his great beast. “Where is he? Where is Thor?” he bellows, a fierceness in his breath and a fire in his eyes that most of the soldiers have never seen in him before.
“Your Highness,” a squire approaches the Bilgesnipe, taking its tether from Loki’s hands as he quickly dismounts the beast. He looks around the camp at the dozens of giants bustling around, cleaning and preparing armour, sharpening knives, and cooking themselves dinner.
“Where are the healing tents? Now!’ Loki snaps at the boy. The squire, though he is two feet taller than Loki in stature, points a shaking finger in the direction of the tents. Loki storms past him, cloak billowing urgently behind him.
“Away,” Loki commands as he enters the tent, his eyes immediately settling on the massive body that lies on the cot in the center of the room. The healers startle at his entrance, and everybody stops. Loki scowls. “Away, I said! Get out!” he screams. The healers scramble, giants leaping out of their King’s way. When the tent is finally cleared, he is left with only the sound of his own ragged breathing. He steps cautiously towards the bed, heart pounding in his chest.
It is almost startled by the sound of Thor’s laughter from the bed. “You always did know how to clear the room, didn’t you?”
“Oh, Thor,” Loki sighs, and he rushes to the side of his lover, clinging to his arm. Thor is bare from the waist up, all of his dark blue skin and pale heritage lines on display. His blonde hair curls loosely around his shoulders and clings to his sweat streaked face. Loki draws in a sharp breath and cups Thor’s cheek, staring in abject horror at the charred and bloody hole where his left eye once was. “Dear one, what happened to you?”
“I defeated her, Loki,” he says with a grin, and he sits up, his face only inches away from Loki’s own. His grin is as bright as ever, and Loki feels like the sun is shining on his face for the first time in three hundred years. “The Death Goddess is dead,” he says with breathless joy. “The war is going to end.”
“Thor, she mutilated you,” Loki croaks, his throat tight with emotion. Thor’s smile falters, and he reaches up to self-consciously touch his cheek. “Does it hurt?”
“Not very much, anymore,” Thor says quietly. “I can still see you,” he says after a beat, his hands coming to rest lightly on Loki’s hips. “You look beautiful.”
“Thor,” Loki huffs, exasperated. He glares for a moment at the wall, then turns back to his lover and hits him in the center of his bare chest. “You scared me half to death. I thought you were going to die!”
“Ow! I’m sorry,” Thor says, but he’s laughing, and that only makes Loki more angry. “Well, what did they tell you in the letter they sent? Did you even read the whole thing?”
“Of course I read the whole thing, you oaf! I read it a thousand times.”
“That’s a lot of reading.”
“Thor,” Loki growls. Thor chuckles and reaches out, pulling Loki closer by his wrist. He kisses the back of his hand, his one good eye flickering to Loki’s face. He smiles.
“Loki,” he says solemnly. Loki’s lips tilt upwards at the corners, and he leans forward to kiss his love. Thor wraps his arms around his hips and lays them both down, clinging to him with all the passion of a lover who has been separated from their wife for too long.
“When you return to Jotunheim,” Loki pants, tearing Thor’s pants open and quickly stroking his cock to hardness, “In all your glory, victorious and proud,” he adds, and Thor groans, clinging to Loki like a lifeline as he unbuttons his own pants and clambers on top of his lap, “I will make you my royal consort.”
“Loki,” Thor gasps, and they moan together as Loki sinks down onto his cock. “Loki, Norns above …”
“I missed you. I missed you,” Loki pants, rocking his hips up and down on Thor’s massive cock. He groans and wraps his arms around Loki’s torso, fingers digging into his hips. He is going to leave bruises and he does not even care; he thrusts up into Loki’s wet heat, mouth hanging open as he moans in pleasure.
“I’m coming home,” Thor gasps, hips pumping as his cock slides in and out of Loki’s greedy cunt. “I’m coming home to you baby. I’m coming home. I’m coming--” he draws in a sharp breath, chest heaving, and Loki practically cries from joy as Thor’s seed floods the inside of his body. Loki’s cunt tightens around his cock and he shivers as Thor’s hand wraps loosely around his erection, drawing a moan from his chest and the seed from his cock. He spills messily all over Thor’s belly, and promptly collapses onto his chest with a massive sigh.
“I love you, Thor.”
“I love you too. I’m coming home.”
“Yes,” Loki says with a grin, and he closes his eyes. “And when you do, we will be married.”
The war does not end overnight. Nor, in fact, does it end in the next hundred years. Two hundred full years pass before finally a truce is reached with the Asgardian government, and the Jotun soldiers are called to come home.
The capital is abuzz with activity on the day of their return. All of the citizens in Utgard gather in the streets to welcome home the brave warriors who have protected them for half a millenia; their husbands, fathers, brothers. Amongst them is the King himself, there to greet his long-time friend and lover, the acclaimed war hero Thor Odinson.
The Jotnar are excited to see their king’s lover return safely to Jotunheim. There have been rumors that when he returns there is to be a grand wedding. Of course, there have been plenty of rumors buzzing around about Thor and Loki for the past two hundred years.
The warriors’ approach can be seen for miles in advance. The crowds begin to cheer and dance, singing traditional folk songs to welcome the warriors home again. Loki smiles and joins in along with the rest of them, and he even holds up his son on his shoulders so that Narfi can see the approach of the soldiers from fifty miles southward.
“Papa can sing along!” Narfi giggles, clapping his tiny blue hands together as the crowd around them hums to an ancient hymn. Loki smiles and cradles the boy against his hip, and teaches him the words.
“Your father will be home soon. Are you excited to meet him, Narfi?” Loki asks, his fingers tracing the delicate heritage lines on his son’s face. They share the same swirling arch he has always been so fond of seeing on the face of his best friend. Narfi’s smile is nearly blinding, and he claps his hands together excitedly.
“Daddy coming home!” he squeals, and throws his arms around Loki’s neck. He turns and presses a gentle kiss to his son’s temple, and smiles.
“Yes he is. Oh, I think I see him coming. Come along,” he says, and he sets Narfi down on the floor and takes his hand in his own, guiding him through the throng of people and towards the approaching soldiers. At the front of the crowd is Thor, looking mighty and terrifying in all of his plated armour. Loki’s heart breaks with joy at the sight of his long awaited lover.
“Loki, my King,” Thor greets him breathlessly, and pulls him into a hot and passionate kiss that seems to Loki to last for a lifetime. “How I’ve missed you,” he breaths as they pull apart. Loki smiles, one hand resting on Thor’s cheek and the other still enclosed tightly around his son’s little fingers. Thor’s gaze follows Loki’s arm, and the sight of his single eye falls upon the tiny giant who is clinging to Loki’s arm, his thumb stuck securely into his mouth. Thor’s jaw goes slack, and he stares for a few long moments before he asks, “And who is this little one?”
“This is our son,” Loki says with a tiny smile, his eyes alight as he regards Thor’s face. “His name is Narfi.”
“Narfi,” Thor breathes, and he sinks to the ground on his knees before his son. Gently, he reaches out to cup the little one’s cheeks between his palms. Narfi stares at him while Thor, gently, runs his fingers over the distinct heritage lines on his son’s face. He lets out a shaky breath, and smiles. “Well, aren’t you the most precious thing I have ever seen.”
Narfi’s eyes light up and he smiles brightly at his father. He pulls his hand from his mouth and throws his arms around Thor’s neck. “Daddy home!”
Thor laughs, tears running down his face as he holds his son in his arms for the first time. He smiles, “Yes, your daddy is home,” he whispers, and when he opens his eyes and looks up at Loki he finds him smiling back. Around them, their people cry and cheer for the end of the war. Loki reaches out and cups Thor’s cheek and tucks a loose strand behind his ear, and he smiles. He smiles for the beginning of something new.