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If I'm being honest

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Loki had known for years.

There was no way of knowing for sure until his nature manifested and he experienced his first heat, but once he had learned to recognize the signs – and once he was ready to overcome the instinctive denial that filled him at the thought – he had known that he was an omega.

It was a crushing realization. All the whispered insults that had followed his every step as he grew up, all the drunken slurs – they were all true. All those years he had been deceiving himself. Lectures with his father, sparring with his brother – useless, for despite their parents' insistent promise there was no hope of Loki ever becoming king of anything. All that would be expected of him was to look pretty and pleasing and spread his legs whenever his mate felt the urge to claim him.

If he weren't the king's son he would be sold as soon as this was discovered. Alphas like his brother or his father would examine him, would inspect his mouth and his ass, would determine whether or not he was fertile, would teach him to serve and to keep his mouth shut unless he was sucking his mate's cock. He would not be allowed to leave his mate's bed without an escort. They would take his freedom, his clothes, his magic, would treat him worse than any dog.

And of course they would mount him whenever the mood struck. They would fuck him until his body's stupid hormones had erased every rational thought in his brain, until he turned into an eager slut whose only desire was to get his mate's cock in one of his openings. It was appalling.

By all means, it should be appalling. He should be horrified. He should scream and howl in anger and plot the demise of anyone who even thought of touching him.

But his biological urges insisted otherwise, urged him to accept his fate. He wanted –

He could not admit what he wanted, not even to himself. He could accept all the little details for what they were, but as a whole the concept was too horrible to contemplate.

For years he had believed he had followed Thor and his friends on their adventures to prove his worth, when he had truly been motivated by his omega's desire to seek the company of alphas. The feasts in their honor had always failed to move him, since he was not enticed by the numerous omegas displaying themselves for him and his brother. But what really drove it in was when Thor grew into a man with an impressive beard and thick golden hair all over his body, while Loki himself remained smooth and hairless.

No. Loki knew the truth, even though he spoke to no one about it.

Once he had also acknowledged this truth – a process that involved much screaming and crying – he had tried to find ways to use it to his advantage. He would never be able to rule Asgard; but there were six other major realms out there, as well as thousands of others who were not worth mentioning. All he needed to do was to seduce a suitably obnoxious and foolishly trusting king, and Loki would effectively rule their realm.

It would be alright. He had plans. He had options.

The Vanir king was nearly as old as Odin, true, but the aging widower was the only one who was able to recognize Loki's polite praise as the curbed insult it was, and while this did not endear him to the old king, Loki still appreciated speaking to someone who understood his gibes. A marriage with him would not be intolerable.

"But look at him with his thin arms and his impractical, gaudy armor", his brother would scoff whenever the king visited. "I bet he has never participated in any real battle. It is no wonder he hasn't found an omega to claim – surely his prick is as useless as his sword."

For some reason that observation seriously dampened Loki's enthusiasm for a possible courtship. The problem with growing up among warriors was that he had developed a certain image how an alpha was supposed to act and look like, and the Vanir king did not fit this description at all.

One of his sons, perhaps. They were all big and strong and stupid, like the ideal alpha male. Loki had trouble telling them apart: They were close in age and looked extremely alike. They spent most of their visits sparring with Thor and his friends, eager to test their strength against Asgard's first prince. In Loki's opinion alphas were like dogs in that way, attempting to determine a hierarchy as soon as they met. He decided he would try to get to know the one who could best Thor in battle – but it did not come to that.

"Did you see that, Loki?" Thor grinned with the pride of an alpha who had just proven his superiority. After their fight he was bleeding from a gash above his left eyebrow, but he didn't even seem to notice. "Vanaheim's mightiest warriors stood no chance against me!"

"Yes, I saw", he muttered, and masked his disappointment with indifference. "Now get away from me. You smell of sweat and grime."

(It was a good smell, Loki decided, rich and musky, and he licked his lips as if he could taste it there. His body should not react to his brother at all, but that was difficult to remember when Thor was standing right there grinning and sweating and shirtless.)

Afterwards he had no more interest in the Vanir princes. It was difficult to find any of them desirable when he had seen them kneeling on the ground in front of his brother, yielding to him. Later, when they were in private, Thor would call them cowards and weaklings, and Loki could not help but agree with him.

If he took a mate he wanted it to be someone who could make Thor submit, someone whose strength his brother would be forced to acknowledge. Loki would not give himself to just anyone: His mate would have to be able to take down his arrogant, brutish, loud, obnoxious brother.

It became an unspoken challenge. Any and all visitors of Asgard were subtly but insistently encouraged to attend Thor's sparring sessions, where the thunder god would then challenge them to battle.

And then he would hit them until they yielded, and Loki would be forced to cross another potential candidate off his list. Thor could not possibly have found a more effective way to guard Loki's chastity if he had tried.

As the years passed Loki grew weary, and somewhat concerned. If he had not found a suitable mate when his first heat set in, there was a chance he would end up like all other unfortunate omegas who were stupid enough to be without an alpha's protection when they were at their most vulnerable: He would end up offering himself to the first man who would look his way, one of his father's guards or a stable hand or even worse, one of his brother's friends, who were nice and amiable to him whenever Thor was around, but insulted him as soon his older brother's back was turned. And then he would be forced to live his life in utter insignificance, playing the part of the willing broodmare.

Such an outcome was not unlikely – the Norns so loved to make him miserable. He was convinced his first heat would set in at a most inconvenient time, and he was not disappointed.




"Are you alright, Loki? Would you like my cloak?", Sif offered, and he shook his head doggedly, not bothering with a spoken reply. Thor's friends had been uncharacteristically observant ever since they entered Jotunheim, and had begun interpreting every gesture of his as a sign of discomfort that needed to be alleviated. Unlike the others who were shivering beneath their armor, Loki's skin had grown warm as if he was running a fever – he wanted nothing more than to undress and throw himself into the snow to ease this strange burning that scorched him from within. At first he had not been sure what it was, but their reactions confirmed it: The warriors flocked closely to him, eager to engage him in conversation despite the dangers that had to be lurking in this unfamiliar realm, almost desperate for his attention.

 "We should not be here, Thor", he said for what felt like the hundredth time to secure his alibi. It was not my fault, he would to tell their father later on. I tried to stop him, but he would not listen.

Thor's coronation was already ruined – the golden prince would make sure of that. He would slay a few giants and Odin would see he was not ready to rule their realm. Everything was going according to plan.

"You're right", his brother conceded, and Loki was almost convinced he had misheard. He had expected a vehement denial and perhaps even an insult, but not this. "We will return as soon as possible, I promise."

Thor turned to stop and looked at him as he spoke, favoring him with a reassuring smile. Then he leaned closer and briefly brought their foreheads together, subconsciously sniffing at Loki as he did so. Then he continued leading their small party through the frozen wasteland with a happy grin on his face.

It was official. His body had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Of course his heat had to set in when the only available alphas were his oafish brother, his annoying friends, and barbarous giants who would probably tear him apart when they tried to mate with him.

Giants who were twice as tall as him, giants with cocks which were twice as big as his, who were ruthless in their rutting and tended to treat their omegas like cattle, like lesser creatures whose only purpose was to be bred over and over again. He would be mounted every day until his belly was swollen with a huge child that would probably kill him as the pregnancy progressed, if his own mate would not decide well before that time that a small, scrawny thing like him was not worth keeping around.

The thought actually made him wet between his legs.

"Thor", he said, and there was something in his voice that made everyone freeze and turn to him. It was disconcerting to see them this focused on him, but it also had its advantages. He had their undivided attention.

This was happening far too quickly. He had been told that an omega's heat would start slow, with the first signs appearing at least two days prior. Somehow he doubted he had that much time.

"I don't feel well. We must return now, or – "

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wondered whether returning now would not be a mistake. Jotunheim was scarcely populated and alphas rare, whereas Asgard was teeming with potential mates eager to bring the realm's second, arrogant prince to heel. There would be no safe place for him, not even in his father's palace. An omega's first heat would only last a day, two at most – perhaps it would be safer to wait it out here in this empty, barren realm, where his chances of getting mounted were slimmer than at home. It might be possible – if he could trust himself not to run off and seek the giants out by himself. Perhaps he could trap himself in a cave before his heat fully began and his magic failed him; perhaps he could obscure Heimdall's vision permanently, could prevent any rescue party from finding his hiding spot.

And he would have to be on his own: Thor's friends were a danger to him in his current state. He had to find some way to convince them to return to Asgard and leave him here. They would not agree to that, no matter what story he told them, but perhaps –

Perhaps it would be easiest if he simply slit his throat and avoided this mess entirely.

"You don't look well, either", Thor confirmed and came closer again. Loki instinctively took a step backwards. "What is it, brother?"

The fact that I can smell you despite the snowstorm. The fact that I want to lick the sweat off your arms. The fact that my breeches are so wet and slick that they cling to my skin. The fact that my legs are trembling. Don't come any closer, or I will climb you and bounce on your cock until you've filled my belly with sickly, incestuous bastards.

For once the oaf proved to be smarter than he looked; the expression on his face was a mask of pure shock.

"You don't look well at all", he exclaimed, and the others drew close to take a look at Loki as well. "Talk to me, brother, what is going on? Heimdall! Open the – "

"No!", Loki interjected. "No, Thor, please, I can't. Do as I say, I implore you."

That was what he said – but he had no idea what he even wanted Thor to do. For the first time in his life, he had no plan.

All thoughts fled his mind when his brother rested his hand on his cheek. Loki sighed without meaning to and leaned into the touch; Thor's skin felt pleasantly cool against his feverish flesh.

"You're burning up! I was not like that when I touched you earlier. How did this happen?!"

"I'm –"

I'm going into heat, Thor. I'm going to become someone's bitch. If any of you tried to rape me now, I wouldn't be able to resist.

He couldn't say it.

What would these people do if they found out?

What would Thor think of him if he found out?

"Oh shit. Thor." That was Sif. "I've seen other people act like this, shortly before... I think he's – "

"No!", Thor shouted, and his voice echoed around them. Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of ice cracking. The thunderer kept shaking his head, continued to deny Sif's allegation. "You will not speak about my brother this way!"

Thor acted as if Loki had been insulted, even though it was not Sif's fault that his body had proven to be this treacherous.

This shames him, Loki realized. Asgard's glorious golden prince, who is utterly flawless – apart from the fact that he calls a lowly, useless omega his brother.

The knowledge should be painful – but instead it was arousing for some reason. Everything felt arousing now: The fact that the warriors came ever closer to him, how they eyed each other warily, how Thor stared at him with wide eyes and a disbelieving frown on his face.

Loki could smell them, all of them: Sif smelled sweet like an overripe fruit, Fandral reminded him of wood and pine trees, Hogun was soil and soot, Volstagg smelled like another woman, an alpha married to a beta, no serious competition, and Thor...

Summer and rain. Wine and lightning. Every single precious childhood memory. Thor was his own blood, and yet Loki wanted.

"We have to get him out of here, take him somewhere safe. Hide him away for the next two days. We could take him to my house."

"... where you can take him, was that what you were going to suggest? Loki does not even like you! He should come with me."

"And what have you done to earn that right?"

The voices of Thor's friends grew louder, ever more agitated, and soon each shouted argument was accompanied by a rough shove. They had not yet raised their weapons, but they would soon. They would fight each other to determine which one of them would get to fuck Loki.

Only Thor remained silent, kept looking at Loki with his mouth hanging open, waiting for some sort of admission that it wasn't true, that this was merely a jest.

"Brother", Loki said, hating his trembling voice. His cock was hard and leaking in his breeches, his nipples stiff and sensitive under his tunic; every time the wind made his garments brush against either place he shivered in pleasure. He was ready – relaxed and slick and ready – and he had no time at all. He would get fucked here, by one of these people he despised.

"Don't let any of them touch me."




It was inevitable.

Whenever it came down to this – a straight out battle with no rules – no one stood a chance of defeating Thor. There was no method to it, no strategies or tricks employed by either alpha; they appeared to have forgotten that they even had weapons. They went at each other with their bare fists, clawed and bit and scratched each other while hissing and growling like dogs.

Loki watched them for a while, strangely fascinated with their display, until the rational part of his brain reminded him that he should probably not be around when they had settled their dispute.

He tried using his magic to turn himself invisible but his powers failed him, tried to run away even though his legs refused to carry his weight. There was no other way but to crawl slowly on his hands and knees, his ass raised obscenely into the air, encouraging the alphas to end their battle quickly.

He still remembered that he should resist them, but it got harder and harder to remember why.

Most of them had cocks, and he had a hole that needed filling. It would be good for all of them. That was his only thought.

Still he yelped in distress when two hands grasped his hips from behind and threw him onto his back. His legs opened entirely of their own accord, even before he recognized his brother above him.

The golden prince cut a magnificent figure, frowning and sweating and bleeding after his battle, his cloak ripped and torn, his armor dirty and bloody.

Not him, Loki remembered. The words mattered, but he couldn't decipher their meaning. Not him. He's your brother. It can't be him.

Thor grunted above him, his expression fierce and feral, and Loki bared his neck in a gesture of submission.

"Don't. We can't", he whispered even as the thunderer's mouth descended on the vulnerable flesh. His beard scratched his skin raw, and Loki loved every second of it. Thor bit him just above his collarbone, licked the blood he drew off the far too sensitive skin, and Loki wrapped his legs around his waist. Through several layers of cloth he could feel his brother's cock brushing against his own, hot and hard and massive, and shamelessly rutted against him. "We're brothers", he moaned, even though he had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean. "It would be a mistake."

His hands were incredibly clumsy, almost as if he had far too many fingers. He pushed and pulled at Thor's armor, desperately trying to remove it, but he couldn't remember how that even worked. All that he knew was that he needed to feel this man's bare skin against his.

Thor was not exactly helping: He merely kept staring at Loki with his brow furrowed and sporting an expression of intense concentration, like he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle.

The trickster groaned when after a few seconds they still weren't touching each other. He tried removing his own trousers, but even that feat required more coordination than he was currently capable of – eventually he succeeded in ripping the garment to a point where he managed to expose his cock and rub it directly against his brother's belly. The action brought no relief at all: He needed more, needed something else, needed –

There was a loud growl as another alpha drew near, and Thor's head snapped around instantly. Loki caught just a whiff of the new arrival's scent – snow and blood, winter and death – and he kicked at his brother to get him out from between his legs and make room for the other one instead.

A frost giant. Naked and snarling and bloody enormous; Loki moaned in distress as his eyes were drawn to its member. That creature would rip him apart.

(It did not feel strange at all: Somehow he just knew that this was his fate, that neither Thor nor any other Aesir was meant to claim him. It had to be a giant, it had to be this giant. His blood was singing in approval: This was what he had been born to do.)

Without hesitation Thor rose to meet it in battle, and Loki aimed a vicious kick at the back of his knee to make him stumble and give the Jotun an edge in battle. Thor grunted and fell, but managed to right himself just in time before his opponent was upon him.

The creature was bigger, stronger and faster than the little Aesir, but the golden prince refused to surrender as he was supposed to. Loki yelled and cursed when Thor remembered his hammer.

Others came, others that were attracted by his scent, but they ignored him as long as there were other potential rivals present. Thor was battered and bruised but kept going, threw himself into the giants' way whenever they came close to advancing on Loki.

That gave the trickster some time to remember how his breeches worked: Finally, finally they were off, and he was free to open his legs and invite a mate into his body.

When he looked up he saw that there was only one potential candidate left standing.

He howled in anger because, the small, stupid little Aesir. Loki no longer wanted that one, now that he had seen that there were giants who were interested in him. But the Jotnar acknowledged their defeat, stalked off in frustration after Thor had brought them to their knees. They just left, and Loki found that horribly unfair. He would let them take him even though they had lost, he wanted to tell them, but he had already lost the ability to form words. The only means of conversation left to him were wordless screams, hisses and moans – and he chose to hiss angrily at Thor as the alpha pushed his knees apart.

He smelled wrong, somehow – summer and rain, wine and lightning, and that was wrong, so incredibly wrong – but that thought was forgotten as two of his fingers came to seek out his hole.

Too small, far too small, he decided: But they no longer felt small as they pressed inside, stretching him easily, forcing him open for the very first time in his life. Hot, painful tears sprang into his eyes – he would never have been able to mate with a frost giant, his body was hopelessly inadequate – and he sobbed quietly because Thor's fingers felt just right for his size. It was neither painful nor pleasurable, but served to ease his discomfort somewhat. He needed more.

He rolled over onto his stomach and rose to his hands and knees, offering himself; he was rewarded with a third finger inside his opening, and Loki keened in approval. He pushed back against Thor's hand, forced it deeper into his body – and squealed happily as one of his fingers brushed against that perfect spot inside him. His cock twitched eagerly; not enough, still not enough.

Fuck me, he wanted to shout. Need your cock. Fuck me, claim me, knot me.

And Thor – beautiful, precious, smart Thor – finally seemed to get the idea. He removed his fingers despite Loki clenching hard around them to keep them inside, and lined himself up. The trickster grew very still; he could feel the very tip pressing against him, hot and heavy, almost there, driving him crazy. It would feel so good, so right, so perfect.

Then nothing happened for a long time.

Loki whined in frustration, tried to push back and impale himself on that length resting against him, but Thor kept him in place. He looked over his shoulder at his mate, and saw that same concentrated look on his face. He looked as if he was on the verge of figuring out something crucial; it was right there, just outside his grasp, but it mattered. Loki howled angrily.

Eventually Thor retreated. Loki felt nothing but cold air against his hole, and he refused to accept that. He snarled and threw himself at his brother, forced him onto his back and dug his nails into his face while wrapping his other hand around his cock, unable to decide whether he should mount Thor or claw his face off.

The alpha had made up his mind however; he pushed Loki's hands away easily, pushed Loki away even as his younger brother bit and scratched at his skin.

He needed this like air to breathe. Every second he was forced to live without an alpha's cock up his ass was pure torture. It felt like dying.

And that damn, infuriating man had just fought any and all competition off and now refused to give him what he wanted. Loki cried, kicked, punched and screamed.

In the distance he could hear another giant answering his call, and he grinned happily.




He had a strange dream about large blue creatures and a familiar voice whispering into his ear, and finally looking into curious blue eyes.

Loki woke up much later in his own bed. He felt weak and his throat was parched, but otherwise he felt fine. Sunlight was streaming in through the glass doors leading out onto his balcony, and Loki pulled the covers closer to his head to shield his eyes from the brightness.

He was just about to go back to sleep when he remembered.

Jotunheim. His heat. His brother's cock. Had they...?

With one violent motion he threw the blanket off his body and pushed two fingers into his hole, ignoring the painful stretch to search for any remains of seed inside him.

It hurt like Hel. It was dry and tight, and he was unable to find any proof of abuse.

That could mean anything, though. Perhaps someone had merely seen fit to clean him after he had been claimed. He did not even know what he was supposed to searching for. Would he actually be able to tell with certainty whether he had been breached?

He had to know for sure.

Loki dressed quickly – dark breeches and a grey tunic, the first garments he spotted in his wardrobe – and marched over to the door connecting his chambers to his brother's.

"Thor!", he shouted as he barged in, just to find the room empty. He snarled and headed out into the hallway, looking for someone who could tell him had happened.

Thor, definitely. His parents, probably. The healers who could examine him, if all else failed.

But Thor could be anywhere – out sparring, or down in the city, or hunting, or on another adventure. The healers would ask questions.

His father's hall, he decided. Odin would know. He would have a solution. Perhaps Frigga would be there as well.

(It sounded rational when he explained it to himself like that, but even before he had come up with that train of thought his feet had begun carrying to the throne room. He needed to see his parents right now.)

He interrupted an audience, but no one seemed to hold it against him. Odin sent the supplicant away, and as soon as they were alone his mother came running towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a nearly painful embrace. His heart sank.

"Was I... ?"

"No", she whispered close to his ear. "You're fine. No one touched you. Your brother and father kept you safe."

Only then did he allow himself to return her embrace. His relief was so potent that it nearly brought him to his knees.

Loki laughed into his mother's hair and kissed her just above her ear. He could feel her smile, and through the corner of his eye he could see that even Odin's expression was soft and not unkind.

"My son", he said, and rose from his throne. Loki was so elated that he wanted to run to him and hug his father as well, but he knew that Odin did not approve of such displays of affection, so he stayed where he was. He just kept smiling – his grin was large enough that it actually hurt, but he could not bring himself to stop.

"How do you feel?"

It was an oddly sentimental question for the Allfather, one that deserved an equally rare honest answer.

"I don't know", he admitted, and reluctantly allowed his mother to step out of his embrace. She kept one arm around him, and Loki had never been more grateful for her touch. "I came here as soon as I woke. There was not enough time to process everything."

The king nodded sagely, as if that made perfect sense to him – but how could he possible understand, when he was no omega himself? "I want you to know that this changes nothing", Odin declared. "Although I wished you would have told us about this. We could have prepared for this, avoided such a situation entirely. You knew, didn't you?"

Loki swallowed, and took half a second to determine whether lying would have any merit.

"Yes", he said, and averted his eyes in feigned regret. "I realize how foolish it was to keep this hidden. I don't know what I was thinking."

Odin nodded once more in approval, and Loki was certain he had told the king what he had wanted to hear.

Then it was Loki's turn to listen, as his parents explained to him what was going to happen to him now.




He entered the healing chambers, and immediately froze in the doorframe.

"You look horrible", he observed, and his brother managed a weak laugh.

"Couldn't you have lied about that, trickster?"

Loki could have, certainly, but why deny the obvious: There were bloody scratches all over his face and neck, and his right arm lying on top of the blanket was black up to his elbow. Apart from that one spot his skin was paler than usual, and his smile not as radiant as Loki remembered.

"I was told that two days have passed since Father rescued us from Jotunheim, and yet no one has found time to see to your injuries?"

Thor used his good hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Ah – they tried, but I wouldn't let any of them touch me. I was half-mad and feral as long as I was under the influence of your scent. Father had me locked up after I injured Eir. I've only just been released this morning."

Loki hummed in understanding and made his way over to his brother's cot. He was no healer – he had kept Thor's body from spilling his guts on the battlefield more than once, but he had no idea how to treat a Jotun's freezing touch. Still, he could deal with the little injuries and make sure they healed according to his own wishes: He ran his fingers over the tiny marks on his brother's face, wounds that he had inflicted, and used his magic to seal them in a way that would leave small scars behind. Every time someone looked at his brother they would remember what Thor had done for Loki.

"Does that feel better?"

"Yes, thank you. Do you think you could – ?", Thor said, and gestured at his lower body. Loki pulled the covers away, and was shocked at what he found there.

Thor's breeches had been partly cut away by some sort of blade, and someone had repeatedly stabbed him into his inner right thigh. Loki could count nine different wounds, and suspected there were more hidden underneath the bloody garment.

"How did that happen?"

That foolish grin was quickly becoming infuriating. Normally Thor would brag about how he had received his injuries, but these did not look like wounds inflicted during battle, and the thunderer did not seem to know how to feel about that. He looked almost bashful.

"Ah, well, that was... that was stupid, I suppose. I was alone with you for a time on Jotunheim, and I knew that I shouldn't touch you, but had no idea how to prevent that. The pain helped me stay focused, so I kept stabbing myself with one of your knives. I didn't know what else to do."

You blighted fool. Stupid, obnoxious, hopeless, stubborn, wonderful idiot.

Thor had injured himself. He had injured himself for Loki, just so he would not mount his little brother. He almost felt sorry for ruining his coronation.

"How long did you have to resist until Father came to get us?", Loki asked.

"I... honestly don't know. It felt like hours, but that can't be right."


As a small reward Loki made those wounds disappear without a trace.

While he worked Thor reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, and Loki flinched at the unexpected touch. Immediately his older brother grew concerned.

"How do you feel? Are you –?"

Thor made some gesture with his good hand, a circulating motion Loki failed to interpret. He had no idea how he was supposed to feel according to Thor, but he answered anyway.

"I'm fine. It's just a lot to take in, you know?"

Of course Thor didn't know, but just like their father he nodded as if he understood perfectly.

Their parents had urged him to choose a mate, so he would not find himself in the same dilemma when his heat returned in two months. Loki recognized the necessity – his heats would become increasingly painful if there was no one to offer him relief; some unmated omegas even went mad, apparently, and even though Loki had faith in his willpower he would rather not risk it.

But right now he could not think about anyone he would want at his side for the rest of life. The bond between an omega and their mate was permanent, unbreakable. He would have to choose carefully...

...and ignore his body's urges, which prompted him to return to Jotunheim and chase after some frost giants.

He was pulled out of those gloomy thoughts by a big, rough hand squeezing his wrist. Thor looked at him in sympathy.

Loki shuddered when he remembered that these fingers had been inside him. Thor had seen him, felt him. Even if he took a mate, his brother would always be the first man who had touched him.

It would probably not stay the most disastrous, terrifying, embarrassing thing that ever happened to him, but at this point in life it certainly topped the list.

"Loki. Brother", Thor began awkwardly while still holding onto his hand. "I'm sorry. I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness, and I will not ask you for it. I was blinded by rage and arrogance when I dragged you into Jotunheim, and as a result I almost... I will try to better myself – this I swear to you."

He looked as if he meant it: This much sincerity had no place on his brother's face. These were the words Loki had wanted to hear three days ago.

Odin had declared Thor's coronation ceremony would not be completed any time soon, not until Thor had learned the wisdom and patience a king needed. His march to Jotunheim had proven that he did not possess these virtues yet – but his endless willpower when it came to resisting Loki's scent meant that he was not beyond hope.

If Thor would actually see this through, if he would actually become the king Loki knew he could be...

"We will see about that", Loki said curtly, and stood from his brother's bedside. "Now if you'll excuse me, there are letters from possible suitors waiting for me."

He did not thank Thor for what he had done.




Six out of nine realms suddenly discovered overnight that Asgard's second prince was a desirable spouse. There were no proposals from Midgard, Svartalfheim and Jotunheim, but that was to be expected: The dark elves were most likely extinct,  the frost giants had probably had enough dealings with Odin's sons to last them a lifetime, and it was unlikely the mortals even knew of his existence.

Still Loki had his pick from most available bachelors, some who were suitable in the eyes of his father and some who weren't. Alphas from all over the place travelled to Asgard's palace to gawk at him and shower him with gifts. Loki had never felt more important, and decided to revel in the attention while it lasted. He rejected no one, instead opting to stoke the flames of their passion and see how far they would go to prove their devotion.

Frigga saw that he was enjoying himself and approved; Odin did not, but neither did he reprimand Loki. Thor played the part of the protective older brother and scared many a suitor off with his promise to break every last bone in their bodies if they mistreated his little brother.

One month passed without anyone being chosen.

Loki discovered that his body was changing. The healers attributed it to the fact that he had spent his last heat surrounded by alphas: He had not been mated, but he had been touched and scented, and apparently his body had drawn the conclusion that it should prepare itself for a male mate. With time his cock grew less sensitive; it felt as if most of the nerves in there had spontaneously wandered into his backside. Masturbation became a humiliating, painful affair; now he needed to be filled to reach completion, and he rarely had the patience to prepare himself adequately before shoving his fingers in there. Still he could not simply go without – his sexual urges grew stronger, needed to be alleviated at night, and sometimes he found his mind drifting into these territories even during the day. He grew incredibly restless as his second heat drew close, but none of the alphas he met made an impression on him.

When nearly two months had passed, his father led him to the east tower.

"This is where we brought you the last time", Odin explained while Loki looked around. There was a large bed without covers, a large chest standing at its foot. Another door led into a small bedroom. Otherwise there was nothing worth looking at.

No books, not even windows. That was fine with him – he would not be able to indulge in such distractions, after all.

 "The entrance will be magically sealed by your mother. No one will be able to get in without her permission. We will leave you with enough food and water to last you a week, but I can also cast a spell on you to ensure you will sleep through most of it."

"I would like that, thank you."

His dignity had suffered enough now that everyone in all realms knew he was meant to be dominated; he did not need the additional shame of masturbating for approximately three days straight until his skin was raw and bleeding.

"What is in there?", he said, and pointed at the chest.

"A gift from your mother. She believed it might help you endure this."

Curious, Loki walked over to open it and examined its contents. He closed it again immediately.

Toys for omegas. In all shapes and sizes, almost all of them intended for insertion. He would never be able to look his mother in the eye again.

"Tell her my thanks", he managed to say before he quickly fled from his father's side.




"So, you're going to..."

"Yes, apparently."

Thor was acting incredibly awkward about his newly discovered sexuality; it would be fun to tease him about this, but Loki himself did not feel comfortable with the topic. As such their conversations consisted mostly of uncomfortable silences these days.

"If there's anything I can do..."

"I don't think so, no."

And that was that. Afterwards Loki went to their parents and asked them to lock him into his tower for the next five days.




He really did sleep for the majority of his heat, and the few hours of consciousness he was forced to endure were almost tolerable.

He was kneeling on the bed, bouncing up and down on a toy that stretched him to a point that was bordering on painful despite his condition, pinching and pulling at his nipples as he did so. His cock went completely ignored – the thing was useless, after all: Soon he would draw an alpha's eye, who would breed him until he was ready to birth a large litter. He would have to prepare himself for that.

Everything about him felt far too small: His breasts would never be able to feed his children, his passage was far too tight to accept his designated mate. He was incredibly anxious about that.

(It was an irrational thought, but right now it made perfect sense: He was small, inadequate, and no one had come to mate with him because he was so tiny. No one would ever come for him.)

He remembered. He still remembered feeling an alpha's stiff cock against his hole. This one alpha who had fended off all the others, who had proven his worth centuries ago, and who was not here right now.

"Thor", he moaned as he came, and quickly brought his seed to his lips so he could pretend he was tasting his alpha instead. His cock remained hard, and he didn't stop moving. The toy slipped into him easier now, and he mewled softly in relief. "Thor."

He didn't want any alpha, he wanted that one. The one who had almost had him. The one who had fought off alphas twice his size. The one who would actually fit him.

Why hadn't he come? Why hadn't he taken him back then? Had Loki done something to displease him? Oh, Loki could be good, he would be so good to his brother – he would let him do anything he wanted. He had such a nice ass, he was certain Thor would like it.


Nothing was enough. No matter how often he soiled the sheets with his seed, it never ended. He needed...

He stood and threw himself against the door with all his might, the toy still lodged deep inside him. His scream was a wordless cry of anger and frustration; Thor would have to hear, he would have to come.

Loki brought himself off countless times with his brother's name on his lips.




"You're back!", Thor grinned, and instantly came over to clasp an arm around his shoulder. The golden prince had just finished sparring with his friends, and the scent of his sweat hit Loki in full force. His knees felt weak all of a sudden, urging him to drop to the ground and display himself. He pushed his brother off quickly.

"I wasn't actually gone, you know. I never even left the palace", Loki muttered, unable to look at his brother.

He remembered everything he had done during his heat with startling clarity; the desire for Thor had not quite left his blood yet, even though he knew it was forbidden. He had suddenly noticed that his brother was a man, and the realization was startling.

"Since you're here you should train with us! You have been idle for far too long!"

Loki's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You would trust an omega with a weapon?", he asked wide-eyed.

Asgard considered its omegas to be fragile, delicate creatures, unfit to carry anything but babes and their mates' laundry. An alpha who would spar with an omega, even if said omega was their sibling, would be mocked and ridiculed for that. And if the alpha actually lost, his reputation would be all but ruined.

"We're princes, we do what we want! Those were your words, right?"

For a second Loki was speechless. He knew that his brother was fearless, and perhaps he did not even realize the significance of this gesture. Most likely he would regret this later on.

"Well, if you're so determined to get thrown into the mud by your younger brother, why would I deny you?", Loki said with a soft smile.

He did not hold anything back, but for the first time in their long history he accepted his inevitable loss with grace.

Even though the feeling of Thor's hands on his body as he forced him to the ground made him slightly uncomfortable.




One morning an unexpected figure showed up in his father's hall to ask for his hand.

"Fandral?", he asked in confusion, and stared into the man's playful grin.

The sheer gall of this creature. Just seconds before they had ventured into Jotunheim this man had ridiculed Loki, and now he dared to stand there and ask the king to be the one who would get to mount his son.

Loki would have to devote the rest of his life to taking revenge for this slight.

"Very well. You may have me", Loki said haughtily, and both his parents turned to him in surprise. "If you manage to beat my brother in combat."

It seemed fitting in a way: It was the same challenge that had existed ever since Loki had discovered his sexual identity. And it would be fun to see Thor destroy someone on the battlefield again.

The fight was scheduled for the next day, to give both men enough time to prepare himself. The whole palace was in uproar: No one had ever come this close to earning Loki's approval.

"Do you want me to lose?", Thor asked him later that evening in the privacy of their rooms.

"No. I want you to beat him." To break his spirit and his pride, so he will never dare to show himself in these halls again. Thor would not approve if he phrased it that way, though. "I want Asgard to see that I'm not some maiden to be wooed with flowers and jewelry. I'm still a prince, and my mate should be capable of standing his ground even against the future king."

His brother grinned happily; it always worked out for Loki to take advantage of his arrogance.

"I get it. You want someone who's worthy", Thor nodded, and Loki felt as he was being compared to some inanimate object. "I will test Fandral. He shall not lay a single finger on you if I find him lacking."

And that declaration was... well. He tried not to focus too much on how it made him feel.




It looked as if the whole city had come to watch the battle. As a result it had to be moved from the training grounds to the arena, giving the whole spectacle an ever more official note. Loki appeared in a long dark robe that looked more like a dress; it opened at the side to reveal his left leg as he walked, and little bells around his ankle made sure that everyone turned to look at him whenever he moved. He made sure to stretch the fabric tight over his waist to reveal that he was not wearing anything underneath.

His father raised an eyebrow at the outfit, while his mother giggled. Fandral was hardly able to avert his eyes, and Thor – even Thor stopped dead in his tracks as he came over to greet his brother, then hastily excused himself. Loki was enjoying himself.

"Begin", he ordered, and leaned back to watch the bout.

It was not like any other battle of his brother he had ever seen. Loki had always believed Thor to be reckless and foolish: He tended to rush in without thinking, never learned from his mistakes, tried to break his opponents with sheer force rather than strategy. He frequently suffered for that, but laughed his wounds off afterwards as if he was enjoying himself.

This, though, this was something else. Thor looked utterly focused, moved without hesitation. There were no wasted movements, not a single wrong step. Fandral was not able to land a single hit. Loki had not been aware Thor was even capable of something like that.

He had always been a good warrior, but in this battle he was absolutely flawless. Loki chanced a look at his father and noted that even Odin looked surprised and impressed. For the first time they watched Thor fight seriously.

And it was all for Loki.

He licked his lips to taste the air – the taste of two alphas locked in battle, with one of them so obviously, hopelessly superior. It would have ended far too quickly if Fandral had not dragged it out, if he had not stood back up time and time again, refusing to acknowledge his loss. Thor was magnificent.

Loki shifted in his seat, and realized with horror that he was beginning to grow wet. It was not the copious amount he had come to experience during this heat – at least he hoped so – but it was the first time this happened without him pleasuring himself. There was no telling how much there was, but his robes felt slick with it. Would people see if he stood up? Even if they didn't, they would notice his rather obvious erection. Would they know it was his brother who had inspired this feelings in him, rather than the suitor fighting for his hand?

The thought should be horrifying, and it was – he briefly imagined people whispering about him, saying he was so eager to be mounted that he even considered his own brother for the task, calling him depraved, wanton...

He was unable to sit still, subconsciously grinding down into his seat in an fruitless effort to fill the void in his body.

When Fandral finally yielded he jumped from his chair and clapped enthusiastically.




As soon as he had returned to his chambers he locked all doors with a flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, then proceeded to throw himself onto the bed and scream into his pillow.

He tore at his sheets with his nails until they ripped beneath him, shouted into the mattress until his throat hurt.

Thor. His brother. Out of all the alphas in all the realms, it just had to be this one. The one he could never have.

It had been easy to accept as long as the desire was just some fever dream that came over him during his heats, but if he experienced it even now...

Of course. Thor was the perfect alpha. Everyone thought so. The man who would one day rule over them all. Loki's future king. Why did it take him this long to realize it? Even before he had felt his brother's hands on his body, the heat of his prick – even before that he had compared any potential mates to his brother and found them all lacking. Thor was the ideal. He was...

Ah, damn it all.

He rolled over onto his back and pulled his robes off as quickly as he managed, tearing the garment in the process. Ignoring his leaking cock his fingers sought out his hole instead, forcing two of them into the wet, waiting passage. He was not quite ready for two just yet, but he had learned to welcome the almost painful stretch.

(See? You're too small, way too small, no alpha could ever enjoy this.)

He whined – his own fingers were no longer enough ever since he had learned that he could put other things into his body, bigger things, longer things – but he had been too embarrassed to take any of his mother's toys with him after he had left his room in the tower. He couldn't get his fingers deep enough, didn't manage to twist them just right, and occasionally he got distracted from his task and rubbed his cock against his arm instead; it was frustrating rather than satisfying.

He stared at the door leading into his brother's room, and wondered what Thor would say if he knew.

The other prince would be shamed by this, of course. Perhaps he would be angry: He had tried so hard to protect Loki from himself, when he could have just taken him.

Suddenly Loki had an idea.

He cast more wards – his figure would be invisible to any birds looking in through the window, no sound of him would be heard outside this room, not even Heimdall would be able to spy on him (an ability he had discovered only recently, one he had wanted to keep secret for a little longer, but this suddenly seemed worth it).

Then he cast another spell, and an illusion of his brother stepped out from behind the curtain.

 Loki imagined him in full armor, bleeding from a thousand little gashes on his head and arms, his hair wild and untamed, his gaze feral, just one moment away from giving in to his berserker blood. The fake Thor's eyes widened as he noticed Loki on his bed, and the trickster moaned as he spread his legs further, giving his brother a perfect view.

"What is the meaning of this?!", Thor bellowed in anger, and the spike of arousal was fiercer than anything Loki had ever felt during his heat. He parted his fingers and held himself open, allowing his brother to look inside him.

"Watch me and find out", he rasped, slightly out of breath. He drove his fingers in and out with quick, forceful thrusts, scratched himself raw with his nails, and reveled in the wet sounds he caused. The downright horrified expression on Thor's face was priceless.

"You shameless whore! You would expose yourself like this to your own brother?!", Thor howled. "Do you have no honor?"

"No", Loki admitted readily, and gasped as he inserted a third finger into himself. It was the situation more than the act himself that got his blood boiling; displaying himself for Thor, touching himself as the golden prince looked on. "Join me, brother", he added with a grin, and watched Thor's eyes burn with rage. The illusion would do as he commanded, but he could not decide how he wanted to play this. He just went with the first impulse that came to him.

Thor snarled at him and his fingers closed around the hilt of his hammer, as if he intended to bash Loki's head in.

"You have lost the right to call me that. A crazed bitch in heat is no kin of mine!"

Norns, those words. Loki moaned louder, his legs opened so far in invitation that he could feel the strain all over his body. He was ready, so fucking ready, and unable to find relief.

"Then take me", he hissed, wishing this projection had a physical form. "Fuck me, knot me, claim me, breed me."

Loki imagined Thor would resist, would insult him further, but he was already at the point where he could not wait any longer. He sacrificed the consistency of his storytelling for a more gratifying experience.

He blinked once, and all of a sudden Thor stood next to his bed, his crotch right next to Loki's face. With practiced motions he undid his breeches, and Loki stared in fascination as his cock was bared.

"Is this what you want, slut?"

"Yes", Loki said eagerly, and took his time to enjoy the sight. Thor was hard, with a single drop of pre glistening at the very tip of the red head. He was enormous, almost ridiculously so (and Loki might have been exaggerating this a little, but it was his illusion, he could do what he wanted with it) – he just knew he would never be able to prepare himself adequately for this, no matter how many fingers he used to stretch himself. There was no scent, but Loki knew there would be if he actually came this close to his brother's member.

(He committed the sight to memory: Every vein on his prick, every last hair on his balls, even if it was merely a creation of his own mind. His actual memories of his brother's cock were nowhere near as detailed.)

He just knew this thing would fill him just right. He wanted to taste it, wanted Thor to hold his head and ram it down his throat until he choked an it. He wanted Thor to hold him down as he pounded his ass, wanted to be taken dry. He wanted it to hurt.

He wanted Thor to break him. He wanted to be raped.

"Do it", he begged, and whimpered softly because he knew he would never experience this man's touch. "Hurry. I can't – "

"Can't what?", Thor growled in anger. "Can't control yourself, bitch?"

(Loki had found that he preferred this insult to all others Thor could have used; it made him feel dirty, like an animal, lower than his father's hunting dogs who had never shown any sign of desiring their siblings.)

"I should have let a giant take you on Jotunheim. Those beasts would have torn you apart and put you out of your misery."

"Yes", Loki agreed as his fingers sped up. "Keep talking like that."

Thor did, and eventually Loki came with a shout, with nothing but his fingers up his ass and his brother's voice in his ear.




He could not bear for it to end, and so it didn't.

"Clean it up", Thor demanded, and Loki obediently lapped the cum of his own fingers, pretending he was licking his brother's cock instead. He loved that salty taste, loved the humiliation of kneeling on the ground while his brother lounged in his armchair like a king. That thought stuck, and he shifted the scenery around them until it appeared as if they were in the grand hall, with Thor looking down on him from his father's throne while Loki serviced him.

(This is how it's supposed to be, he thought wildly. He should be king, and I should be his bitch.)




Afterwards he curled up on his bed, smelled at the spot of his sheets he had soiled with his slick, and wished he had never been born.

The illusion of his brother stood somewhere behind him, silent and motionless, but a grounding presence nonetheless.

He kept his head empty and tried to think about nothing, merely concentrated on that lazy, sated feeling that promised to envelop him. He wanted to sleep and never wake up again.

His brother. His very own brother. Thor.

He was not supposed to have these feelings. No omega did, not for their own family members.

(Apparently Thor had desired him as well while they were on Jotunheim, but that felt like a meaningless piece of information: Thor had been able to keep himself in check, after all. Unlike Loki.)

There was something wrong with him, a sickness deep down in his core, tainting his every thought and everything he touched.

"Hey", the illusion of his brother said, and Loki flinched.

"It's alright", Thor continued softly, and Loki curled up further.

"You are so good to me, so perfect. I'm so glad that you chose me. I – "

Loki realized were this was going and banished the figure with a wave of his hand.




Loki lasted a week.

A week during which he tried to  avoid his brother at all costs, pretending to be busy whenever Thor asked to spend time with him, but this part of his plan proved to be more difficult than expected.

("What are you doing here?", he snarled in surprise when he entered the library just to find his brother bent over a table, studying old maps and records. The sight was so unusual that he could not reconcile it with his mind's image of his brother.

"I asked Father what I could do to learn more about the burdens of kingship, and he encouraged me to read Grandfather's old diaries. They are actually more interesting that I imagined. Did you know that Asgard and Jotunheim were allies once?"

Loki just stared.

He really is trying. Perhaps nothing will come of this, but he does not shy away from the effort.

The trickster left without another word.)

A week during which he genuinely tried to find any of his suitors worthy of his time, tried to be moved by their declarations of devotion. He was uncharacteristically nice to them. He hardly thought about Thor at all, kept himself busy with other pastimes. He also spent a lot of times with his mother, asking her to teach him about how an omega could behave adequately while still retaining some influence and dignity. During the day he was always occupied, but at night his mind travelled elsewhere.

His dreams were filled with golden hair and tanned skin, whispered commands and a storm raging around him. He longed for his brother's touch.

Then, after seven days had passed, Loki locked himself in his room with a few tomes to figure out how to give his illusions a physical form.

It was not as complex as he had believed; all that needed to be done was to add a sensory illusion to the optical one. The target he wanted to fool would have to be unaware of the spell, or else they would be able to see through it. It was just a trick, after all: He could not create something out of nothing, only fool others into believing there was something there.

In other words, if Loki wanted to touch his illusionary brother's cock, he would first have to make himself forget that he had created him in the first place.

A two-fold illusion coupled with a memory spell. He would burn himself dry just for a few minutes of debauchery. In addition he was not sure how he felt about messing with his own mind like that: One wrong step, one wrong incantation, and he could end up turning himself into a simpleton. He could erase pieces of himself with no chance of ever retrieving them.

Loki lasted another week.

Then he locked himself inside his rooms once more, cast his usual concealment spells, and got ready to lay with his brother.




He groaned, disoriented. His head felt as if he had been kicked by his father's horse. He kept his eyes closed despite the light streaming in through his windows, determined to go back to sleep.

Absentmindedly he noticed that someone was stroking his hair. Something felt off about the touch, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Something warm and heavy came to rest against his lips, and he instinctively opened his mouth to lick at it. It tasted unpleasant, and he frowned slightly.

"Come now, be a good slut. Open wide."

While the words were unfamiliar, the voice wasn't. Loki recognized his brother, and without really thinking about it he did as he was told.

A lot of things happened at once. Two hands closed around his skull to hold him in place, digging almost painfully into his hair; Loki's eyes shot open just in time to spot a wall of meat and golden fur, before something was shoved into his mouth. For a second he was certain his jaw would not be able to take the strain – then his head was pulled forward and that fear was replaced by a more existential horror.

It went down his throat, further, deeper; it never seemed to end. Subconsciously he tried swallowing, just to start gagging when he found that wasn't possible; he couldn't breathe. The thing was scorching hot, searing his throat and bringing tears to his eyes. He was pulled back and forth on the thing, and someone groaned above him each time his throat constricted in panic. He could taste salt and sweat on his tongue.

He saw no other option, didn't even think about it: He bit down hard.

There was a howl and a shout, and all of a sudden he could breathe easily again. As soon as he was released he crawled away from his brother, spluttering and coughing. Everything hurt.

"Have you lost your mind?", he managed to rasp.

Then he was being pushed back to the mattress, his brother's weight on top of him, with two hands on his neck squeezing the breath from his lungs.

"Bite me again and I will knock out your teeth, every last one of them. Understood?"

(His first instinct was to resist, to fight, but there was a strange part of his brain that insisted otherwise. Do as you're told. Be a good omega. Your want that cock, don't you?)

He did, but... it felt strange. His memories were hazy. Why was Thor in his room, and why was he acting this way? It didn't feel right.

Thor wasn't like this at all.

He blinked – and suddenly the weight on top of him disappeared, and the figure of his brother vanished without a trace. Loki stared up at his ceiling, dumbfounded.

It took him a few minutes to remember what all this meant; then he screamed in frustration.




He needed to come up with a believable scenario, a scene he wouldn't doubt, so he would not be able to see through his own illusion. He had to convince himself that his illusion of Thor was the real thing, that Thor was the kind of person who would rape his own brother.

(Anything else was optional. He could perhaps give himself an incentive not to resist his brother. The threat of violence had been terrifying; but in hindsight the alternative might be more satisfying. He had already established that he liked the idea of being forced; being injured in the process didn't sound as unsettling as it probably should have.)

It was easier said than done. His brother could be obnoxious, careless, sometimes even rude – but never cruel, never without honor. Rape was a crime, incest even worse. Thor would never commit either without good cause.

A good, noble cause, probably.

Loki just couldn't see it. Nothing he came up with felt as if it could be half-way realistic. The Thor he knew would never stoop this low.

He had to alter his mind further.

His memory spell turned into the most complex illusion he had ever wrought: He created an entire alternate reality he could live in, rewrote every single childhood memory to support his vision. For the duration of a few minutes he turned himself into a meek boy, starved for his brother's approval and his affection – a brother who was cruel and heartless, and not above taking his frustration out on him.

Then he tried again.




"Make sure to get it wet. You know where it's going next."

It was almost impossible to nod with the head of his brother's cock in his mouth, so Loki merely hummed his agreement. Thor seemed to like the feeling of that, so he did it again while eagerly running his tongue across the thick length. He made sure to coat it in saliva as he had been told, his stomach a tight knot of apprehension and excitement.

He used one hand to stroke and squeeze Thor's balls, while his other ran across the part of his shaft he could not fit into his mouth. His brother needed to be appeased or he would start fucking Loki's throat again, which would not end well for him.

Thor did not look exactly impressed with his efforts, though.

"Take it deeper", he ordered, and Loki tried, he honestly tried: But every time the thing hit the back of his throat and he would have to swallow to get it any further in, his gag reflex forced him to stop. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I was wondering why no one has mated with you yet. Now I know", Thor said, clearly disappointed. The sudden feeling of shame caused Loki's cock to twitch in interest. "Stop that. Turn around, on your hands and knees, and present yourself."

Loki complied without even thinking about it, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. He arched his back and raised his ass for inspection, hoping Thor would like his body. Suddenly there was one finger pushing into him, cold and callused, and Loki gasped in surprise.

"Hmm. You're mostly dry. That's unfortunate", Thor observed. Then the finger was removed, allowing Loki to relax once more.

Then a bored: "Brace yourself."

And Loki screamed.

It felt like being skewered by Gungnir. His cock went in deep, until Loki was certain that if he put a hand on his belly, he would be able to feel that thing inside him. As soon as he felt Thor's balls against his backside his brother pulled back – his hole immediately tried to close itself again before it was forced open once more. His whole body shook as Thor thrusted inside. Loki moved one leg forward to get away from his brother, but Thor's iron grip on his waist prevented any escape. It took a few minutes until his shouts of pain turned into anything resembling words.

"Stop it, please, mercy, just stop!"

This was not what he had imagined, not at all.

(Had he imagined this?)

Behind him Thor grunted, and slapped his right buttock harshly in response. Loki yelped as he was assaulted by even more anguish; his shouts turned into quiet, voiceless sobs.

"You'll get used to it", Thor insisted. "Now shut up and take it, little bitch."

(So little,  so small. Thor will see how useless you are, and he will never touch you again.)

The thought caused Loki to cling to the sheets, try to stay in place as Thor rutted into him. His arousal had all but disappeared, but a desperate need to prove himself kept him upright. Despite Thor's words Loki was certain he would never get used to this: That vicious burn every time his brother's cock brushed against his inner walls, that feeling of being wounded...

Loki found the word strangely adequate: This was his most vulnerable spot, and Thor wielded his cock like a weapon.

"Yeah, that's it. See, you're even getting wet for me."

Loki wasn't, not truly; this had to be his brother's precome leaking into him, even though there was way too much of it. It did make it easier to bear, however; it almost felt as if Thor's member had actually grown a little smaller, if such a thing was possible. He still couldn't understand why some people considered this pleasurable, though.

Then Thor changed his angle somewhat, and Loki yowled like an animal.

The sudden spike of pleasure was as intense as it was unexpected. His first instinct was to mistake the feeling for pain, and he instinctively leaned away; then Thor hit that spot inside him again, and Loki finally understood.

He started pushing back against his brother, met Thor's thrusts with his own. It still hurt, but now there was something else as well, and the combination of both was sweeter than anything he had ever experienced. All thoughts fled his mind: There was only the cock up his ass, and his brother's voice above him.

"Yes, that's a good slut", Thor declared, and the unexpected praise made Loki's heart swell. He moaned, and that noise sounded strange, unnatural even to his own ears. He couldn't quite help himself, though: These moans just slipped out of him, and he had no chance of holding them back.

(Finally. Finallyfinallyfinallyfinallly.)

It felt as if had waited ages for this.

One of Thor's hands came to rest near his chin, and Loki wasted no time putting his fingers into his mouth and sucking on them. There was something unusual about the texture, but Loki didn't focus on that. With his tongue occupied his moans turned into gasps, little noises of mph, mph, mph, every time Thor slammed into him.

"You may touch yourself", Thor allowed graciously, and Loki wasted no time. He ignored his leaking cock and traced the rim of his hole instead, touching that part where they were connected, feeling himself quivering around his brother's length.

He came with a squeal, way before his brother's knot swelled and he filled him with his seed.

Everything felt so right.





Afterwards he sprawled on his bed, utterly exhausted. His headache was killing him, but he was still grinning. His entrance felt abused, even though it wasn't: There was no stretch, and no trace of his brother's imaginary seed. His own was quite real, though.

He vowed to do this again soon.




Odin went to rest eventually, and everyone was surprised when Thor asked his mother to assume the role of monarch for the duration of his father's sleep.

"I know I'm not ready yet", he just said and grinned. His hair was open and danced softly in the gentle breeze, like tiny rays of sunlight that had found a physical form. His eyes reflected the clear blue sky above them, bright and honest and hiding no secrets.

Loki wanted to shave him bald, carve out his eyes with his nails and cut his skin to pieces.

How was he supposed to feign interest in another as long as this creature was in his life?




Loki took to wearing robes more often. He liked the effect they had on people, and soon he found out what worked and what didn't. Not many men seemed interested in seeing his bare chest, only a few women giggled when he pretended to expose one of his nipples by accident (he kept doing it anyway, because Thor's scandalized expression was utterly worth it). Everyone was delighted by his legs, though, so he made sure to reveal at least part of them on all days.

No suitor caught his eye, and his nights were devoted to his brother's shadow.

Time passed, and his third heat came and went just like the other two that had preceded it. The only remarkable thing about this one was that it more than twice as long as his last, nearly a whole week.

"I heard about something like that once, but I hoped it was merely a legend. There are so few precedents", his mother said afterwards, and took his hands into her own. Loki realized that this was serious, and bend his knees slightly so they were of one height.

"What is it, Mother?"

She said nothing at first, merely stroked his cheek softly, her eyes filled with sadness.

"You must choose your mate soon, or you risk losing your sanity to this. Your heats will last longer and longer, until your mind will not be able to return to us. Choose carefully – but whatever happens, you must make your choice before one year has passed."

The trickster did not answer. He could lie to his mother, but he would rather not make a promise he wouldn't be able to keep.




Loki's body changed further – he made sure it did. He tortured his nipples until they grew big and puffy, and nearly cried with joy as he managed to squeeze the first drop of milk from them. His breasts swelled slightly but remained mostly flat, which he thought was convenient. They bounced a little when he jumped, though.

Still, they served their purpose and gave his nightly illusions a little more variety.




He felt the pressure of his brother's hand on his spine just below his neck, forcing him to crawl on his hands and knees. He was naked, had been blindfolded with a thick, black cloth, and a cold metal gag kept him silent. A heavy collar was placed around his neck, turning breathing into a chore. Loki did his best not to tremble in fear: He had no idea how he got here and what was going to happen to him. All around them the people they passed laughed at him.

"Finally the slut is going to learn his place!"

"I don't know why the king put up with him this long after their babes died."

"Look at that: The bitch needs to be milked."

He did, oh he did: His chest hurt, filled with so much milk that it felt close to bursting, but whenever he attempted to touch himself Thor slapped his hands away. Loki was appalled to feel that he even had these body parts, two little teats that flapped around every time he moved. When exactly did that happen? The last thing he remembered was Thor fingering him on Jotunheim, and after that – nothing. He whimpered softly – a silent plea for his brother to show mercy, but no one reacted to the sounds he made.

At first he had no idea where they were going; but then the stone floor beneath him gave way to soft, warm hay, and he could smell and hear cows around him.


"My king."

Loki knew that voice; one of the servants in charge of caring for the king's cattle. The trickster knew he had big hands, but apparently not much skill with using them: The cows cried out in distress every time he attempted to milk them.

He knew then what was going to happen to him, knew it with almost frightening clarity.

He could no longer help himself: He started trembling.

"Do you have a free stall for this one?"

"Certainly, my king. But are you sure – "

"I am", Thor said, his voice cold and unforgiving. "We have tried for years, and he has not been able to birth a living child. He is useless to me."

Loki swallowed hard; his eyes felt wet. Was that what had happened? They had actually mated? Why couldn't he remember? Had he been pregnant? Had he given birth? It explained his leaking teats, but – his children were dead?

"I no longer want him around if he is not able to give me heirs. Take him off my hands, if you would. Extract whatever value you can from him."

No. This had to be a dream, a nightmare. If this were true, they would be bonded; Thor would not abandon his mate, would he? Separation would hurt them, it would – he would not actually be that far away if Thor sat in the throne room while Loki was in the stables.

But surely Thor wouldn't. He wouldn't. Or would he? Loki's breathing turned erratic, and he was certain he would suffocate if no one took that collar off. He tried to scream, to hurl insults at his brother, but the only sound that left his throat was a pathetic keen.

(He would, he would. Just accept it already.)

"Of course, my king. Would you like to see how he will be accommodated?"

"I would."

Thor pushed him forwards, but Loki dug his heels his toes and fingers into the ground, determined not to move an inch. He heard a chain rattle, and felt himself being pulled forward by the collar around his neck – Thor had him chained and leashed him like a dog. He resisted until it reached a point where he could no longer breathe easily; then he was forced to follow to avoid being strangled.

He was pulled through the stables for a while, until they suddenly stopped.

"Yes, that should suffice. It is a bit small, but he is a small cow, I guess."

"Should I milk him right now?"

No.Nononononoononononono –

"Yes. Show me."

There was the sound of someone dragging a stool and a bucket close, and Björn groaned as he sat down.

"Would you make sure he holds still, my king?"


After some instructions from Björn, Thor walked around him and kneeled down in front of Loki, pressing his hands onto the hay. Loki keened again – a silent plea for his brother to please reconsider.  Thor's only reaction was an amused chuckle.

"Go ahead, Björn. He likes having his tits fondled."

Then suddenly there were two large, cold hands reaching around to cup his breats, and Loki froze instantly. Someone took his nipples between forefinger and thumb and squeezed them roughly, pulling them down until he was certain they would be ripped off. He squealed in distress – then he sobbed quietly as the first stream of milk was pulled from them. It was an agonizing combination of pain, humiliation and relief, and Loki found himself unable to decide which emotion should prevail.

In front of him Thor laughed. He had to be close – Loki could feel his breath on his face.

"See? I told you he likes that. Don't you like that, little cow? Let's see how wet we can make you. Let me."

Suddenly Björn's hands were pushed away by two others – warm, callused, hairy, familiar ones, that cupped his breasts carefully and tested their weight. The gentle caress was a stark contrast to the rough milking he had just received.

Loki forgot to breathe. His brother was touching his chest. Thor got his fingers wet with milk dripping from his tits. That fact alone was enough to make him grow hard; he shifted into a more comfortable position, arching into Thor's hands, and felt the skin between his thighs growing slick.

He did not even think about resisting or trying to pull away.

"Try pulling on his nipples, my king."

Thor did – and even though his motions mimicked Björn's, his touch was much more gentle. Loki found himself moaning, but quickly fell silent again, mortified. He was enjoying this, but refused to reveal that. Slowly the flesh Thor was touching grew warm and sensitive.

"I milked him often, but never like this", Thor marveled. Loki could hear the awe in his older brother's voice, and felt strangely proud of himself. The trickster felt a soft kiss on his forehead, and without thinking he leaned forwards to nuzzle Thor's cheek, press his nose against his – his brother smelled like lightning and rain, sweat and grime, sex and seed. Loki found himself wondering whether he was wet because he was aroused or because Thor had fucked him before bringing him here.

He could only enjoy their closeness for a second before Thor pushed him away.

"None of that now, my little cow", he admonished. "We're not done here yet."

Loki moaned happily and forgot everything else around him.




"Are you alright, brother?"

It was a question Loki heard often lately. Apparently he acted oddly around Thor, even though he really couldn't help it.

He was always conscious of their familial bonds, kept his distance, made no suggestive comments, rarely confused his illusions with reality. But every once in a while his brother would reach for him and Loki would flinch, expecting pain and cruelty. He was not afraid of his brother, just wary in a way he hadn't been before, and people took note.

Thor in particular proved to be surprisingly perceptive: His eyes clouded over every time Loki withdrew from him, and the golden prince would then walk off to devote himself to his studies for the rest of the day. His dejected puppy eyes made Loki uncomfortable.

"Just a little tired. I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Thor looked unconvinced, but didn't question him any further.




He stopped going to the grand hall to greet his suitors in the morning. He just stopped one day without offering any explanation. The most persistent ones would find him anyway, but he sent them away without sharing more than two words with them.

He spent most of his time in his room, and his mother too busy to call him out on this behavior. He hardly ever left his bed.

"Hey", Thor said one day while Loki was still recuperating from one of his illusions. His headaches got worse as his scenes grew longer and more complex; he pushed himself to his limits at night and was usually exhausted the next day.

So when he heard Thor's voice, all he did was bury himself deeper in the covers.

"Come on. Get up."

He blamed the lack of sleep, or his frequent escapes to the reality of his own mind – but by now he had discovered a fierce need to obey that voice. So he crawled out of his hiding place, winced at the brightness, and did what he thought Thor wanted him to.

He kneeled on his bed, naked, face down, ass raised, offering himself to his brother.


The distress in his voice finally made Loki snap out of it.


Never before in his life had he dressed this quickly without the aid of magic. He still didn't manage it in time: Thor had already fled from his chambers when he was finished.




His fourth heat nearly lasted two weeks, and it was pure torture. When they released him from his prison he was severely dehydrated and had lost some weight – they had prepared enough nourishment for him, but he had simply forgotten to eat it. He did not feel particularly worried about that, though; in fact he was in high spirits for the next days. Everything and everyone was fun and interesting.





He gasped his brother's name in pleasure, right there in the throne room in front of two hundred nobles who pointed and snickered at him.

Loki hardly noticed them. The only one who mattered was the king standing behind him.

One of Thor's hands kept Loki in place, the other raised Mjölnir high. He fucked Loki with force, but not with passion: This was not about them, this was about the realm. They would certainly never forget this coronation ceremony.

The difficult part was staying quiet. Both his breasts and his cock were leaking freely as his brother pounded into him, and the pleasure made him want to squeal.

It was as if they had coordinated it beforehand: Loki found his release at the same time as Thor filled him with his seed, and the people jumped to their feet and started clapping in approval.

Unbidden tears came to his eyes. He had no idea why.

Thor was surprisingly gentle as he held him afterwards. His smile was soft and kind.

"My beloved. My queen", he said, and the illusion of him vanished before he could press his lips to Loki's forehead.

His mind was all over the place.

He was slipping.




"Come on. How are you going to find a mate if you don't even search?"

It was strange, really: Despite their last, utterly disastrous encounter, Thor had not stopped coming to Loki's room to drag him down to meet his suitors in the morning. The trickster made sure not to slip up again, and probably overdid it in the process: He treated the golden prince with cold indifference, and still Thor came every morning to get him.

He was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect older brother, and Loki hated him for that.




Odin woke just in time to witness the aftermath of Loki's fifth heat. When he was taken from the tower after nearly a whole month he was severely emaciated but still laughing happily. It took him five days to remember how to speak – until then laughs and giggles were his only means of communication.

He spent those five days constantly clinging to his brother's arm, nibbling at his neck and hair. Every once in a while he would spontaneously take his clothes off, sometimes even when they were in public. Questioned about this behavior later on, Loki remembered nothing.

"You absolutely must choose a mate during your next heat", Frigga insisted with tears in her eyes.

"If you can't make up your mind, I will pick someone for you", Odin threatened.

His brother said nothing, not at first.




He stood at his window, looking down on the children playing in her mother's garden. They had long blond hair and striking blue eyes, all three of them, and even though he was not showing yet, he was certain he carried a forth heir beneath his heart.

"They grow up so quickly", Thor said. His brother stood right behind him, his chin resting  on Loki's head. He pressed a kiss to his hair.

Then sadness enveloped him for some reason he couldn't name, and the illusion faded.




Two days later Thor called him to his room, and Loki found himself following out of curiosity. His older brother waited for him in a dark blue coat, dressed for a winter that would not come to Asgard for many weeks.

"We must return to Jotunheim. Then we will travel to Midgard, and finally to Svartalfheim."

He declared it the way a king might: It was a command, not a request, and disobedience would not be tolerated.

"Why?", Loki asked, and watched as Thor straightened his shoulders. He looked like a man ready for battle, not eager for the task ahead, but prepared to do his duty.

(You look like Father. Nearly one year has passed, and I hardly recognize you. I was chasing your shadow without seeing the man: You have changed, and I didn't even notice. What were you up to while I was busy masturbating and bawling my eyes out?)

"You will not find a suitable mate here. If no one has shown up until now, they are not going to, no matter how long we wait. So we must go to the realms that ignore us and find one by ourselves. I will not stand by and watch you descend into madness."

The last sentence was spoken with unusual force, and Loki felt his pulse quicken in response. He liked it when Thor was being forceful.

"And how do you propose we find a mate for me?"

"We will spend one week in either realm, cover as much distance as we can with Mjölnir. If you spot someone interesting, we talk to them."

Loki very nearly laughed, because this was just too ridiculous. The three realms Thor had named were vast. Even if there was an alpha out there Loki could approve of – someone stronger, kinder, more handsome, more valiant than his brother – they would not find them in mere days.

"This is it? This is your grand plan? This is how you plan to save me from my hormones?"

In the past Thor would look reasonably chastised if Loki criticized him like this; now he met the trickster's gaze with his head held high. There was no hesitation, no shame. He stood by his decision even though he recognized its faults, and this time it felt like more than mere arrogance.

"Yes, this is it. I thought long and hard about what I could do to help you, and this is the best I could come up with. Now let's go."

"And Father allowed this?"

"We will be gone before he finds out."

This was all Thor could offer: A desperate plan with no hope of succeeding, a final mad gambit.

Later on Loki would blame the parents who had raised him to become the man he was. He also blamed the Norns who kept spinning their threads without regard to his feelings. He blamed Thor as well, the righteous, golden fool.

"Lo –!"

That was all Thor could say before Loki buried his face in the crook of his neck. His smell had changed: It was not quite as intense as he remembered, more subtle, but no less alluring. There was a faint note of ink and old parchment; Thor spent far too much time in the library these days.

It was rare for Loki to initiate a hug, or any kind of physical display of affection, really. Normally their brotherly bonding experiences consisted of Loki standing absolutely motionless while Thor crushed him to his chest, or clasped his shoulder, or tackled him to the ground, or some combination thereof. Loki couldn't remember the last time he had willingly embraced his brother like this.

Slowly, almost hesitantly Thor's hands came up to rest on his back, and Loki was struck by how real this felt; even his most intimate illusion paled in comparison to this simple touch. Perhaps he could use this knowledge to enhance his illusions, if there was enough time.

He had made up his mind shortly before coming to see his brother. He would not wait to find out what the Norns had in store for him: Would he starve during his next heat, would he be forced to mate with an alpha of his father's choosing, or would he turn into a brain-dead bimbo?

No. There would be no sixth heat for him. He was determined to end his own life before it came to that.

Spending his last days with his brother, travelling the realms they rarely ventured into... surely there were worse ways to end it all.

But there were also better ones.

(I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserved a far better brother than me.)

"Alright", he said. "But there is something I would like to try first. Would you allow me to cast a spell on you?"

Thor pulled back slightly, and Loki realized with joy that his brother had finally grown smart enough to be wary when Loki voiced such a request. He held the trickster at arm's length.

"What kind of spell?", he asked, suspicion writ plain across his face.

(One you will always despise me for, one that will prove the depth of my depravity. One  that will make sure I get to experience your touch at least once before I expire.)

"Just a little incantation to make sure you will not tire so easily. If you intend to carry us both with Mjölnir for days on end, you will need every support you can get."

That sounded sensible, and Thor was forced to nod.

"Very well. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"Just sit down, close your eyes and try to empty your mind."

Thor did so, and Loki knelt down in front of him, conscious how close this position brought him to his brother's groin. He prepared himself to cast a variation of the memory spell he used on himself in preparation for his nightly diversions, and gripped Thor's knees tightly.

(You despise your little brother. He is a nuisance, always embarrassing you in front of your friends. You want to teach him a lesson. You want to break the little bitch. You want to make sure no one else will ever want to touch him.)

It would be easy, so incredibly easy. Just one night with his brother, and if Loki did it well, Thor would not even remember it afterwards. Just one brief experience to show him what he could have had. No one would ever find out.

And yet Thor would forever be tainted by this.

Slowly Loki let go without doing anything, his arms falling back to his sides. Thor noticed, of course.

"I don't feel any different."

"It seems like it didn't work", Loki lied easily. "I'm sorry. It was worth the attempt. My sorcery is no longer as stable as it used to be."

The look of abject pity on Thor's face caused Loki to rise to his feet and turned around, so his back was facing his brother. He would have walked away and left him there, if a hand on  his shoulder hadn't stopped him.

"Come on. You need warmer clothing if we're going to Jotunheim."

I can't do that unless you let go off me, he wanted to quip, but for the first time in his life his own mouth did not obey his command.

"And if we don't find anyone? What will you do then?"

(Would you fuck me if I asked you to? If there was no other choice, would you sacrifice your reputation and the love of our parents to save me?)

"We'll figure something out", Thor said, sounding full of confidence, and Loki sighed. 

"Look at me", his older brother growled. Loki did.

This close he could see the tiny white lines on his brother's face. Most of them were located near his eyes, and Loki wondered whether he had tried to claw his eyes out. He looked older somehow, more mature; there was something different about him, but Loki could not quite put his finger on it. The hand on his shoulder snaked its way upwards, and the trickster couldn't help but whimper softly as the fingers traced the tiny scar on his neck.

This was where Thor bit him on Jotunheim, leaving a permanent mark on his skin.

"I'll figure something out", Thor amended, and dug his thumb into the old wound, reasserting his claim. Loki's breath hitched. "I've got you."

(You're so close. What would you do if I kissed you now?)

Loki did not dare to find out.