Work Header

Good Inside

Work Text:

Thor’s grip on his arm is resolute.

Loki snarls into his muzzle only to be wrenched forward until he is stumbling, landing heavily against his side on the floor. He sucks in air through his nose and breathes it out, long trails of dust gusting around his face. He blinks away the grit, squints against the bright light that spills from the high windows, pouring through the glass.

His shackles rattle against the floor like metal snakes slinking along and then he’s sliding across the stone, a sharp course sound as sandpaper is against a hide. He’s dropped with a thump onto a plush fur rug that sits at the foot of Thor’s bed.

Loki’s eyes narrow dangerously and he sorely thinks of his magic, what he could do if he weren’t restrained and under watchful eyes. He would steal away the moment he could, leave Asgard.

But that’s the thing about magic. It’s best effective if your audience isn’t paying close attention.

Thor’s anger-filled eyes never once stray and he yanks on the chains, stretching Loki’s arms out until they are pulled straight.

“You have acted so... callously, Brother,” Thor’s low voice is a whisper of his true fury; Loki knows this and yet still nearly rolls his eyes. Thor has no business being so upset. He’s won, hasn’t he? Thor got what he wanted. Midgard safe and sound, his brother trussed up in shackles, caged at home once more.

The rage at being literally dragged back here starts to burn through his gut before Loki is knocked rudely from the sweet beginnings of insolence as his bound wrists are snatched up, hanging painfully from the chains that are suddenly wrapped around the giant silver head of Thor’s hammer.

There’s a loud crack as Thor plants Mjölnir head first onto the rug.

“An important part of Midgard has been desecrated, Loki! Lives have been lost. Yours too, almost.” Thor paces back and forth, a small bead of sweat rolling down the side of his nose.

“Do you care nothing of what you’ve done? Of yourself?

Loki does not bother to give Thor the satisfaction of acknowledging this. Instead he ignores Thor, concentrating on evening out his breathing, calming his pulse. His blood is rushing from the pure unadulterated feeling of hate that pours down on him with Thor’s every word. How dare he presume to lecture Loki on waging battles on worlds which lie far from Asgard? On the glory of war? Hypocrite.

There’s a screech and Thor is wrenching the drapes closed, their tiny metal hoop hangers scraping along the bar. Thor grips at the deep velvet curtains, his shoulders tense and hunched. Only a few trails of dull light sneak past the heavy fabric as he lets go.

The sudden enclosure of the dying afternoon heat folds in on Loki, like being dropped into a dark pocket made of hot air. It shocks him, the feel of an Asgardian summer. He hadn’t realized he’d forgotten its scorch, the stifling thickness of it, pressing in on all sides. Fills his lungs.

He’s been away for so long it seems all he’s known is the emptiness of cold.

Thor drums his fingers against the window ledge until his hands clench into fists and knuckles turn white. It is in this moment of uncertainty when Thor paces, scowling, and rips off his cape in a haste. He storms back and kneels before Loki, places his large warm palms on either side of Loki’s face, fingers curling under sharp jaw where the muzzle is snapped closed.

Loki’s fingers twitch from behind his back.

“Brother, say now you feel regret and all will be forgiven.”

Loki fumes from underneath his muzzle, but only for a moment. He’s been on the receiving end of Thor’s tempers too many times to count. He knows Thor’s anger well. It is like a tempest, powerful and consuming, but always blows over. This instance will be the same. Loki just needs to ride it out.

He lets his head hang low, eyelids sweeping down. Thor makes a small sound of irritation or worry, his touch becoming more of a cradle. Loki looks up through his spiky black lashes to see that Thor’s eyes are glossy and imploring. The willfulness that spurs Thor on is nearly tangible in that gaze and Loki can scarcely feel the ghostly echo of unshed tears. But he cannot bring himself to care.

Thor has such magnificent range in his anger, more a pity that it diffuses so easily. And there is a tug at this knowledge, a wriggling feeling of disgust, deep in Loki’s gut. How great his so-called brother would be if he embraced that unbridled fury. How strong Thor would be, if he didn’t let sentiment get the better of him.

How strong Loki would be, if he were Thor. But he is not, and he vibrates with equal anger under Thor’s foolishly gentle hands. Loki wishes him to grow angry anew. He prefers it to this pity, this phantom pain of brotherly longing that Thor seeks to inject back into his heart.

The muzzle clicks open.

Oh, but Thor has never been able to resist his silver tongue. Loki barely restrains the smile that threatens to climb his lips.

He takes a deep burning gasp and blinks rapidly as the metal drags away. His chin is supple and sweaty, the soft skin of his jaw feels raw. A thin spider silk line of spit trails from his mouth to the inside of the muzzle. It snaps as he slips out his tongue, runs it over his lips.

“Brother,” Thor skirts a rough thumb down the sharp edge of his face and Loki exhales, slow. Looks up.

“What difference does it make,” His voice is hoarse, “What I feel?”

Thor frowns and his hands fall away to land, clumsily heavy, atop the hilt of Mjölnir which juts up between them.

“Your punishment.”

Loki lets out a loud bark of laughter, “Is that all? Well, pray tell me what it is.”

“You have not yet answered me!”

“And I do not plan to,” Loki gifts Thor with a baleful look, almost disbelieving of Thor’s unchanging resolve. It’s so pointless, how Thor can continue to champion petty transient causes, and then expect Loki to do the same. Expect Loki to bring himself to justice.

“Look at you, Odinson.” Loki says instead, leaning forwards on his knees, the chains clink-clanking, pooling against his ankles. “Surrounded by the comforts and riches of the place you call home. But you are even more lost here than if you’d wandered into the dark.”

“Hold your tongue, Loki,” Thor’s nostrils flare against the thick air. “I did not take that cursed thing off just to shut you up again.”

“No?” Loki goads, his head rolling easily back to fix Thor with a sly look. He can’t help but antagonise Thor, not really. This is what they both do so well. “So now that you have me captive, what will you do?”

Thor’s breath comes in heavy pants, in and out. He lets go of the hammer’s grip and runs a restless hand to pull his long hair taut before it falls forward in thin locks that stick to his flushed face.

“You took me from your precious Midgard. Told the foolish mortals that I would face Asgardian justice.” And here’s where Loki allows himself to smirk, can’t help it, it’s too funny, “But you and I both know there’s no such thing.”

“There is.” Thor growls low in the back of throat and bares his teeth. “You’ve just never been on the receiving end before.”

“Oh yes, and you have. But you can’t banish me, can you? That would defeat the purpose of bringing me back here.” Loki laughs, reclining even, just a bit against the foot of Thor’s bed, “You’re less Asgardian than me, gentle Thor, more human more than ever. You don’t even know what to do with me.”

“You must be punished,” Thor grunts, scowl fierce. “You’ve hurt people, me included—”

“Then why are we in your chambers?” Loki retorts. “Keep your poison close, don’t you? Perfectly fine with keeping me chained to your precious Mjölnir.”

At the slight shock in Thor’s expression Loki gleefully snarls, lunges, the chains twanging as they lock him in place just scant lengths away from Thor’s nose.

“You may do your worst, Thor, but even that will not be good enough. I’ll never stay. The moment you need call for your hammer, I will disappear.” Loki strains against the chains, and then twists, spits upon the magical weapon. The clear wad of saliva rolls down the hilt in one thick vein. It sends a thrill of vindication up Loki’s spine.

“Face it, Thor, at the moment it’s mine. And without Mjölnir, you’re worthless.

He gets a mocking boot onto its head for good measure, stamping in his disgust.

And Thor loses it.

When Loki thinks back on it, perhaps keeping his mouth shut would have been a wiser action. But he’d never said he was wise.


Loki finds himself flat on his back with Thor looming over, rough hands pinning him down by the shoulders. The chains under his back pinch and twist in too tight spirals and Loki growls, kicks out, but Thor is resolute in his hold. They scrabble against each other with insults flung back and forth.

“Just tell me—” Thor grunts, glaring down at Loki, wide chest and long hair casting a curtain of shadow over Loki’s entire body, “You’re sorry!”

Enraged at so easily being held down, Loki thrashes harder, trying to get free. But the more he struggles and snarls, Thor only uses more of his weight to keep him in place, the calm fury before the storm building up behind his eyes.

Sweat drips down Loki’s forehead, rolling down to touch upon his open lips. It’s salty and stings and he gasps around the taste. He’s alarmed to realize he’s panting so harshly that his chest moves up and down in exaggerated movements, as if the air is too thick to even push up against. As if his heart takes up all of his chest.

“Fuck you and your hammer,” Loki hisses and his next knee goes straight into Thor’s crotch.

Thor lets out a pained groan, and hunches, golden hair falling to cover his face as his large hands curl around Loki’s upper arms in a fierce grip.

Loki smiles in triumph.

A smile which is wiped away quickly when Thor whips hair back to stare furiously down at Loki. Just cocks his head, gets that look on his face, the one where he’s made up his mind to do something idiotic and selfish and rash. One Loki knows all too well—


The single word slips from Thor’s throat in a deep tone, so deep it makes Loki shiver, if only up his spine. He’s pinned to the spot, can’t move. And then Thor is wrenching Loki up by the front of his tunic, nails biting in that causes it to tear against the sheer force. He’s dragged up into a sitting position.

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Loki gets out before Thor tugs again, too hard, and a symphony of studs go tinkering across the rug and floor as they pop from his garments.

“You picked your poison,” Thor hauls him up.

“Not a chance!

“We’ll see about that,” Thor flings some tatters of Loki’s tunic away and even though Loki knows what’s coming in a distant sort of way, it’s still a shock when Thor pulls down his pants and gives a quick slap to one ass cheek.

Loki’s mouth falls open, “Thor.

The sudden sting has made Loki gasp, rock forward to lean against Thor’s broad chest. Thor’s large hand kneads the reddening flesh, just under the rounded curve where thigh meets ass. It sends adrenaline surging through his muscles, makes him seize up in a strange mix of panic and anticipation.

It’s been long, too long, perhaps, since he’s felt this way. Just the thoughts that Thor’s hand upon him incite is enough to make his cock twitch in answer. It enrages him that Thor should be the one to make him feel. Feel too many things.

Loki squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip, urging himself to calm down, to quell the fury sizzling in his gut. When they’re both angry, things always go from bad to worse.

“Remove your hands!” Loki bucks back against Thor’s hand roughly, if that could be considered equal enough defiance, “How dare you—”

“You’ve grown vulgar, Loki.” Thor says this as though it is some great personal offence. “Stay quiet and receive the punishment you’ve asked for!”

Oh, but Thor has never taken his words this literally...

I have?” Loki gasps and then groans as Thor slaps him again.

He grits his teeth, fingernails digging into his palms and twisting angrily against their shackles. He struggles again but the chains feel immeasurably heavy and the heat is unbearable from the exertion. He almost welcomes it when Thor peels the black leather of his garments away. It leaves his skin sensitive and slippery wet and Loki feels relief twine into his resentment at being bared.

“What, not trying to talk your way out of it?” Thor goads back, his deep anger coming closer to the surface. “You’ll spare all the words in the world for trivial pursuits but none to save yourself. Loki...”

Thor trails off, lips still moving as though he has more to say but no words to express it. Thor’s grip on his ass slackens. Perhaps the storm is blowing away again.

“Is this supposed to shame me, Thor? I thought you could do better. But I should have known.” Loki bares his teeth and when he speaks into Thor’s ear he makes sure his words bite.

“There’s not enough good in you to take the bad out of me.”

And that’s the ticket. This slams Thor back into rash incoherence and his grip becomes near-painful, no, wait. It’s painful and Loki’s thighs burn as they splay wide around Mjölnir.

“Then I will teach you a lesson with something more worth your weight!”

Loki yelps as he’s smacked again, and then there’s the sudden almost burning cold of Mjölnir’s metal head against the backs of his thighs. His heart beats a hole through his chest at the feeling of its blunt handgrip against his the cleft of his ass, a long thick line drawn down. He can feel the slickness of where he’d spit smear against him like a wet kiss against skin.

Thor holds Loki tightly against himself and Loki keeps himself very still as immense anticipation seizes him. There’s something about getting Thor angry that is so very satisfying. Loki nearly groans as his cock twitches, a thread of embarrassment sewing into his resolve. The handle of Mjölnir sticks him in the hip as Thor leans them down to reach an arm under the bed.

He’s vibrating in Thor’s resolute grip like some needy whore. A slave, craving punishment from his master. A chained pet— Thor’s wide chest moves him up and down in shallow breaths. It’s not fair. He bites a lip to stop himself from making a sound. How dare Thor make him feel—

There is the wet sound of liquid slopping out.

“What are you doing?” Loki asks quickly.

“Carrying out your suggestion,” Thor answers, voice chipped with ice and he balances on his knees, “Your ideas have always been better.”

Loki’s mouth falls open when he feels the slippery wetness of oil running down the backs of his thighs, cool in the heat of the room. It only serves to make him gasp, blink rapidly. He bucks and finds the hammer’s handle slick. What was...

That’s when his ass cheeks are roughly spread open.


Loki’s breath rushes out in one gasp, “You can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

Loki snarls in outrage, wriggling and wrenching harder. Thor’s arm clamps down, crushing the air out of his lungs so that he cannot speak. But he has no answer for Thor. Hot shame pours down his throat, choking him as he closes his eyes against the onslaught. Shame for feeling overwhelmed, a small twisted thing in the face of the heat of the room and Thor’s body that presses down on him. Shame for feeling his cock throb just the tiniest bit.

Thor does not speak again and there is the soft touch of a finger pad against Loki’s hole before he’s being pushed into with a thick finger.

Ah!—” He struggles again but Thor’s large finger slides in up to the knuckle and Loki shudders. Thor’s hand comes down to his hip, thumb digging in with punishable weight.

“Stop!” Loki hisses when a second finger joins the first. The feel of it is unthinkable, humiliating. Thor’s two fingers moving up and down, sliding against each other inside of him, obscene wet sounds covering up Loki’s quick breath. The only thing left Loki has control over is his voice and even that betrays him when it comes out, fluttering when he says:


Thor’s fingers curl.

THOR!” Loki shouts and then his teeth clack together tightly, his eyes wide and furious and shocked, staring over Thor’s broad shoulder. He’s seething and squirms in Thor’s heavy grasp but the fingers stay in.

“Stop this! What about your mortal chums? That woman?” His breath hitches uncomfortably, “What would they have to say?”

“You’re going to sit on it.”

Loki hates when his short burst of laughter sounds anxious even to his own ears. “This is not the scales of justice, dear Brother.”

“We’re not brothers, are we?” Thor reminds him with scorn and Loki jumps when the fingers inside him are jerked at a rough angle, “And I’m not all good, as you said.”

And that is the crux of it, for Thor’s fingers pull out with a soft wet pop and Loki’s struggling anew, shouting profanities that Thor has never heard him utter—because of the indignity— but each word seems to make Thor angrier and his hands spread and cup under Loki’s thighs.

Loki can feel every finger like a thick rope wrapped around his pale quivering legs, lifting him so that the dull end of Mjölnir’s handgrip is positioned at his twitching clenching hole. He resists. Pushing up as hard as he can, against Thor, stiffens so that he can’t be impaled. But Thor does something he doesn’t expect him to do, not in a millennium.

Thor reaches around to roll his balls and then tugs.

Ahhhh—mmmn,” Loki gasps and his head falls to rest upon the gleaming silver plates of Thor’s armor as Thor guides his hips down.

His breath gusts out in a hot cloud that fogs the surface and when it dissipates he can see his hateful glare looking back at him. And then Loki’s face contorts, into a dazed slack-mouthed shock, gusts of breath fogging up the image and fading away to capture his undoing.

It’s so much, the stretch and the thick ribbed handgrip slipping in, notch by notch. It’s big, and he’s never felt anything like it. Loki can’t help the groan that escapes him as he’s pushed down. The unyielding hardness of the handle, penetrating with the most unimaginable pressure, it’s too much.

“No. Stop,” He gasps and fingernails dig lightly at the sensitive flesh of his palms. “It’s too long, fuck—”

Watch,” Thor’s voice is dark and rough and deep. “Watch how far inside I can get the good to go.”

Loki bites his lip, brows turned up, and he quakes in Thor’s hold as another rib of the hilt slips past his twitching tight hole.

Against his better judgement he drags his forehead down to rest against Thor’s chest, looking down in between them to see himself impaled on the hammer’s end. The sight unravels the knot in his stomach, melting his insides and a thin line of saliva drips from his bottom lip before he can close his mouth. Thor grunts and readjusts his grip, pushing down more and a bead of sweat spills from Loki’s temple. He fears if he moves he’ll be taken apart.

The chain links clink together as Thor moves him up just a little and then down just a bit more, powerful armored arms holding him by a hip and one leg. Loki squeezes his eyes shut, panting shallowly. He opens his eyes to see the muscles in Thor’s legs strain against leather pants as he lifts himself up and down with Loki, carrying all of Loki’s weight against his chest. Hands spreading small mounds of ass so that the handgrip slips unhindered.

Thor,” Loki whispers and his husky voice only spurs a deeper thrust, so deep that Loki can almost imagine he feels the hammer’s head against the underside of his balls.

“You can take it,” Thor urges him.

Deep waves of humiliation rock over him at the slow steady pace. That Thor would punish him so slowly, intimately, instead of hard and fast. If this were merely a ruthless act of power, Loki would be able to endure. Perhaps even relish in the thrill of it, the ingenuity. He’s fairly certain Thor has never tried sodomizing someone on the grip of his hammer before. How thoughtful, to be the first.

But his insolent thoughts are swept clean away as Thor rears up slowly again only to sink back on his haunches at the same speed, four or five ribbed sections buried inside. Loki chokes back unformed words. It’s almost like this could mean something, if Loki could forget the unnatural straightness of the rod, the near-painful thickness of it. How tight he’s stretched without any control. This is all damned Thor’s doing, and it feels too much like this could be how it feels to fuck someone because you care.

It brings him dangerously close to something pleasurable.

Thor shifts to slosh more oil down the shaft and then gives Loki another smack to the back of a thigh. He kneads tender flesh in spread hands and guides Loki down the large handgrip once more. Even slower.

The moan rips out of Loki fast and unbidden.

He pants and wrings his bound wrists in wild motions, body jolting as his tight ring of muscle allows each ridge to slip past as he sinks to finally become fully seated.


The moan sends a shiver down to the base of Thor’s spine and he swallows back the strange excitement that jumps, low in his stomach. Loki’s body is wracked with shocks, jolting sporadically from his seated position. Thor holds his breath, letting Loki’s legs fall to rest on either side of Mjölnir, boneless.

Thor leans back to survey his handiwork and Loki’s heavy warm head lolls back.

His brother’s normally pale face is flushed, damp with sweat that has long black hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks in thin dishevelled clumps. He gulps greedily at the hot air, the apple of his throat bopping up and down, chest compressing and expanding in deep rolling pants. Loki’s legs are shaking, trembling in Thor’s grasp and Thor lets go only long enough to balance him by slender hips so that Loki’s knees are planted firmly on the ground.

“Is there any room left?” Thor asks his brother over the rush of blood in his ears. He doesn’t even know if he could hear Loki’s answer. “Are you all filled up?”

“I hate you, you filthy piece of—”

Thor lifts him again only to let Loki slide down the hammer’s shaft by gravity’s force.


When he looks down Loki’s cock is half hard, standing in between their bodies, throbbing with each strong pulse of the heart. Thor’s mouth goes dry and then wet as he licks his chapped lips. His brother is so slim now, it’s almost as if Thor’s looking upon a stranger. There’s a mad scorching ball of fire spinning around in his gut even as he thinks this. It hurts, that Loki could stray so far, to lose sight of even himself. Not take care.

“Well done, Thor.” Loki spits this out, voice hoarse and low. Not the melodious tone that Thor’s used to hearing slip past those lips. Loki has no control now, and it shows, in every twinge and tremble of his body, stood up on display atop Mjölnir. His eyes, though, are as antagonistic as if they are back on top of Stark’s tower, struggling against each other.

So Thor gives him the fight, guiding slim hips up torturously slow and then down once more.

“Is this your worst?” Loki sucks in air and goads, his bottom lip raw and red as his mouth hangs slack, gasping openly when his balls slap against Mjölnir’s head. “Always knew you were soft.”

“No,” Thor growls.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Thor is painfully hard.

And jealous, of his own damned hammer.

He can’t stand Loki all of a sudden. Can’t stand how different Loki looks now that they’ve been separated for so long. Can’t stand the way Loki’s every taunt sends his blood rushing down, each little gasping sound makes excitement pool in his aching groin. Hates the way Loki’s lovely hipbones are sharp against his palms.

Thor splays hands across Loki’s hips, guiding Loki up and down the hard handgrip again. Again. And then again. Thor gulps thickly, watching the fat handle that he knows the girth of all too well slip farther and farther inside his brother, only to reappear like magic as he slides Loki back up.

Loki whimpers and has a desperate look upon his face. This alone is addicting.

He cups Loki’s bottom more firmly, marvelling at how easily he fits in Thor’s hands and pushes down harder, more at an angle. Loki shudders violently and cries out, his cock jumping to attention.

“O-Oh, f-fu—”

Thor grips hard and slams his own hips against Loki’s with a thump.

“Ah-ck!” Loki chokes, and Thor can feel every quivering hot inch of his brother’s skin.

Loki’s cock is throbbing, a hard line pressed tightly to Thor’s own arousal trapped within his pants. The pressure is beyond exhilarating. Thor groans, his heartbeat like a horse galloping within every vein. He rocks his hips just a fraction, grinding into the head of Loki’s cock, and is rewarded with precum slipping out to coat his brother’s stomach.

“Oh,” Loki says breathlessly, with a worn out sort of curl of the lips. They’re nose to nose, breathing the same hot air. His green eyes skirt down for just a moment, to Thor’s lap. “What do we—ahh— have here? You like watching, Thor?”

Thor snorts, “And you like being punished.”

Loki sneers and spits at Thor’s face. A wad of saliva goes crawling down the side of his cheek and Thor snarls, streaking his stubbled jaw across Loki’s to wipe it off. He rocks into Loki again, thrusting up with his confined cock to press tight against Loki’s balls, once, twice. He squeezes Loki’s ass, pushes him to sit fully on Mjölnir—

Loki’s body quakes and he gasps, eyes suddenly unfocused. A thin bead of spit rolls over his red lower lip and falls against his chin.

“You didn’t even fight it,” Thor growls at him, so mad that Loki would rather accept punishment than love. “You thought of this yourself.”

“That’s... generous,” Loki says mockingly, “Giving away your one --uhng—good idea—huff— to me.”

“You’re taking it well,” Thor replies, roughly guiding him down, the thick rod making a slick slopping sound as it disappears. Loki glares before squeezing his eyes shut, a flush stealing over his face, and Thor can’t stand that Loki would ignore him even in this. When he pulls Loki up it’s completely off Mjölnir’s handgrip which emerges with a wet pop.

Thor shoves three fingers into Loki’s hole making him cry out with a gasp. The rapid clenching of his brother’s tight hole is like a bolt of lightning travelling down Thor’s arm all the way to his cock. Thor bites back a groan, but can’t help thrusting his fingers as far up as they can go.

Loki lets out a breathless needy moan and bucks back on Thor’s fingers.

“I know not why you—hngf— lift Mjölnir. You’re—pa—,” He gasps as Thor’s fingers curl, “Pathetic.”

“Liar,” Thor growls and roughly pulls his fingers out of Loki, holding him by one skinny hip while his other large arm folds across Loki’s arched spine. Loki’s head falls forward to rest on Thor’s broad shoulder. Thor slides a hand down into the curve of his lower back, slicking through the beads of sweat to cup Loki’s small tight ass. Positions him overtop the slippery handgrip. It slides in with less resistance than before and Loki moans loudly, directly into his ear.

“Y-You like to think y-you’re as big as your weapon,” Loki stutters in a gruff hiss, as if his tone hides the shameful arousal that has taken possession of his slim body.

“It’s big,” Thor concedes. His brother is shivering in his grip as Thor squeezes slim hips and fucks him shallowly on just the tip of the hammer’s handle. “But Thor’s bigger.”

A deep shudder runs from the base of Loki’s spine all the way up until he’s gasping, eyelids fluttering and mouth slack.

Thor presses forward and grinds up against Loki’s balls, rolls his hips in slow deep curves, keeping their bodies pressed together as firm as possible. Sweat is dripping into his eyes and Loki’s smaller body is slippery, too-slick and hot with oil and sweat and a mess of vibrating nerves.

Hgnckk,” Loki chokes at one vicious roll of the hips. “Thor, stop—”

Thor pants, rubbing his cheek against Loki’s temple, “Are you thinking of my cock in your ass?”

Loki stills, unnaturally so, and Thor assumes it is because he has never heard words so crass come from him before. Well, Thor knows how to be vulgar too.

“No,” Loki squirms, the chains rattling. “I’ve never—”

“But you want it.”

Loki pants, looking utterly teased and humiliated. Refuses to answer.

Thor thrusts again and the anguished moan that escapes Loki’s throat is enough to tell the truth. Thor takes the opportunity to tug Loki’s balls, pressing a thumb against the spot just underneath. Loki mewls and bites his lip fiercely, twisting and turning and tangling one ankle up in the chains.

Thor growls and roughly sinks Loki down on the fat hilt again. And this time when Loki’s completely full, he tips Mjölnir on its side. Loki moans and is forced to lay on his back amongst the furs, struggling to shimmy backwards and extract himself from the immovable object that penetrates him. He doesn’t get far though, with his handcuffed hands trapped behind his back. Thor spreads his pale thin legs, bending them at the knees to frame the hammer.

Spread out like this, Thor can see everything his brother has to offer. Every twitch and hitch of breath, every quake and bead of sweat. There’s oil and sweat and precum running between his legs where Mjölnir’s proud handgrip is pushed deep inside his stretched hole.

“Going to let me up now?” Loki asks, exhausted, his thin chest rising up and down quickly.

“Not yet.”

Thor holds Loki’s bucking hips down with one hand and takes the top of the hilt in one fist only to shove it in and then pull out. The chains attaching Mjölnir’s head to Loki’s wrists crinkle and rattle overtop the slick wet thrusts.

“Ackk—ungg—” Loki twists and turns, resisting Thor’s strong hold. But all he can do is take it, let the mighty hammer go as far as Thor allows. The apple of Loki’s throat bobs with each deep gulp of air he swallows, one for each ribbed segment that passes his quivering asshole. But Thor doesn’t let it go as deep as before and this leaves Loki breathless.

“Thor, please—” Loki’s teeth clack together as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

“You want all of it?” Thor asks carefully even though his pulse screams in anticipation.

The shame and humiliation is painted across his brother’s face in red inflamed cheeks and swollen bitten lips.


Thor smirks, can’t help it. He’s always proud when he finally gets Loki to give in. And his brother was right. Thor usually gets what he wants. He’s won this time, Loki’s home. Loki just needs to realize that a little punishment can go a long way in convincing someone to change their mind. It’d changed Thor’s after all, after being banished.

“You can’t have it.”

Thor denies and Loki’s glare is weak at best, but still hateful enough that it spurs Thor on. He pushes Mjölnir’s hilt inside and tilts, just enough to leave Loki gasping and eyelashes fluttering. He does it again and again until Loki’s cock stands straight out, leaking from need, Loki’s lithe body slamming with a powerful heartbeat.

Thor slides the hammer’s grip halfway inside. It’s a shallow plunge for Loki now having been opened up so wide. He leaves it in and sits back on heels to undo his stifling silver armor. It falls away with a clatter and Thor rubs his palms across the back of his neck and chest, wiping away the sweat that has collected across his skin.

“Let me see how big you are,” Loki gasps from his prone position, craning his neck. Sweat is dripping down into his clavicle. “Show me.”

Thor’s trousers have become a form of self punishment so he unravels the laces to free himself. He takes his throbbing erect cock in hand, stroking thickly, the foreskin pulled taut and moving back and forth. There’s already precum slipping out of the head and Thor rumbles low in his chest with relief as he thumbs at himself, coating his cock and running one finger down the huge vein drawn down to his balls which he rolls in a rough grip.

Loki groans and lets his head fall back with a slight thunk against the floor.

Thor crawls up and leans over Loki, one hand on either side of his temples, the fat head of Thor’s cock dipping heavily into his navel. Thor watches as Loki shudders, irises a thin green line wrapped tightly around large black pupils. His lids sweep low and the blush upon his cheeks is bright and feverous as his gaze slides away.

Thor lowers himself, just enough to lick at the sweat on Loki’s throat, and that is the undoing of his brother.


Loki nearly sobs when Thor grabs Mjölnir’s hilt only to rock the thick rod in and out in short unsatisfying thrusts.

Thor does not give him the pleasure of replacing it with something bigger even thought Loki is sure he must be drooling for it by now. His eyes shut against the unyielding hardness of the handle, his legs are burning from being spread so wide. The squelching noises are loud and dirty and Loki just wants it all to be over, to be filled up, to come.

Thor gets an arm underneath Loki’s knee and spreads it out, pushes up so that Loki’s leg is supported on one strong crook of the elbow. Loki pants, blood rushing and head swimming with the assault on his senses. He can’t stop the moan that stutters out of him when the handle twists.

“Fuck! Thor,” He cries out, “If you’re going to punish me, l-let me feel it!”

“When you feel sorry.” Thor replies and Loki’s back arches up off the floor. The rug is sweltering against skin, sticky and matted as he tries to shift into more comfortable positions.

“I’m—gasp—only sorry you still think me your Brother.”

At Thor’s livid offended expression, Loki continues.

“Otherwise you’d fuck me yourself.”

Thor lets go of Mjölnir.

Loki welcomes the respite only to feel Thor’s large hands stroke his ribs, his chest, finger pads slipping over hard nipples. It’s like he’s being touched everywhere all at once, Thor’s presence is so overwhelming. Thor’s bulging muscles embrace him, hard curves that carve out the most appetizing male form. Loki has always been slender, more so now than ever before. It feels like he’s going to be folded in two by Thor’s arms, crushed under his heady weight.

Thor’s mouth finds a dip at Loki’s collarbone and he sucks, hard and relentless. It sends a wave of pleasure shooting down to Loki’s core.

“Give me your cock,” Loki manages to whisper through his spasms, ashamed of the want that’s pulsing so hot and bright, like a sun he can’t close his eyes against. Can’t resist.

“You want it?” Thor asks with a groan, pressing his cock against Loki’s stomach. And oh, it’s so big. So hot and thick and smooth, curving to spill precum into Loki’s bellybutton. Loki swallows thickly.

Yes,” He pleads, even though it’s humiliating to ask. Makes his cheeks burn with a blush that he fears will stain.

Only being able to feel the solid column of Thor’s huge waiting dick, throbbing against him, is a more effective punishment in the face of Mjölnir’s short unforgiving thrusts. Loki needs the warmth, needs Thor deep inside, to fill up all those cold empty spaces. Needs to be covered with Thor’s thick body, feel his hard body slam into him, be completely smothered by his brother. Maybe then he’ll even disappear.

Saliva pools in the back of Loki’s mouth at the thoughts that run wild, nearly choking him. Thor’s hands slide down his sides in a delicious firm press to fan out against hips, thumbs touching in the middle just underneath the head of his cock. It’s torture. He silently urges Thor to take hold of his cock, spit on it, stroke it, anything.

But Loki’s pulled across the furs against the handgrip until he’s completely full of the hammer’s handle. It’s not enough. Loki’s slack, so slack, and the severe straightness of Mjölnir’s shaft doesn’t let him move the way he wants. Needs. And Thor is twisting the hammer all the way around, until the chains are untangled, and then Loki’s left empty, hole gaping wide.

Mngg—gghh!” Loki gasps loudly at a sudden new intrusion, “Thor.”

He doesn’t even bother to oil himself, just takes hold of his hard dick and pushes in. The head of Thor’s cock is thick, a larger girth than Mjölnir’s handgrip by far.

Thor grits his teeth and sweat drips off his brow to splash against Loki’s chest, neck, mouth. Loki licks his lips and throws his head back, thumping it against the floor a few times as Thor sinks in. He’s rolling his hips before Thor catches and pins him.

“Loki. Don’t... Move.”

Loki makes a pained noise at this and jerks his hips. He loses his breath at the burn, the stretch of Thor’s girth, making him wider than Mjölnir’s rigid shaft could. He inhales deeply, holding the hot air in his lungs, hoping not to cave in.

Thor pulls back and thrusts further in, rocking Loki’s slender hips right off the ground. Loki's toes curl and back arches high off the ground, wrists straining within the shackles.

“Are you full yet?” Thor’s panting harshly, ghosting hot air across Loki’s chest. He gives a shallow thrust and leans down, crushing Loki’s cock in between their abdomens. The pressure is punishing and a shudder wracks Loki’s body, makes him shake under Thor’s warm weight.

Thor lazily mouths at Loki’s shoulder, “C-Can you take—huff— take more?”

The fight and fury seems to be seeping out of Thor’s voice, his hands becoming gentler, movements more cautious. What would Thor do without Loki there to stir up the storm?

“S-still not feeling the—mggh— good inside.”

Thor growls and sinks himself further, guiding his cock with one hand. They manage to stare each other in the eyes for a brief moment before Thor thrusts forward, pushing Loki’s legs wide and high above his head. Loki doesn’t even get a chance to tell him how deep inside he goes, how no one has ever been in so far, how there’s never been anyone who’s ever gotten so close to touching his heart. He couldn’t say it even if he tried.

“Ngghh... More,” Loki moans, or maybe he’s said ‘Thor.’ He doesn’t know, can barely keep his eyes open to witness where their bodies connect. Wants to watch in perverse pleasure but is too ashamed to see.

“Thor, I want to f-feel you all the way inside. Now. Fuck... Me...”

Thor pounds into him, plowing as hard and fast as he can. The sweat and oil making them slip together so easy, it’s as though they are meant to be connected together, as if it’s always been easy for Thor to open Loki up.

Thor’s spine curves low so he can lick at the sucked-in bruise on Loki’s collarbone. Then he bites down as he smoothes one hand down Loki’s inner thigh, takes rough hold of Loki’s cock. He strokes it and thumbs at the underside of the head, pausing only to stroke Mjölnir’s shaft for more oil before jerking Loki’s cock in quick pulls. Tears of frustration and relief spill from Loki’s eyes, the pleasure a crashing wave so immense he drowns in it, a silent scream prying open his mouth as he comes in Thor’s wide palm.

Loki moans with the loss as Thor pulls out but barely feels it as he’s rolled over onto his stomach to lay against the thick fur rug. He’s numb to everything except his sated buzz until his arms are yanked straight by a powerful pull on the chains. He bucks weakly, ass rising in the air to help alleviate the strain and Thor’s cockhead slips back into him, pushing in all the way.

It doesn’t take long before Thor is thrusting into him at a furious speed, keeping him reigned by his cuffed hands. Loki almost wishes for the muzzle that rests on its side mere lengths away, to help contain the whimpers of pain and pleasure that escape his throat. His joints ache, his cheek buried in the rug and knees spread to support the brutal weight of each hard pound Thor punishes him with. Vaguely, Loki can tell he’s drooling, saliva spilling from the corner of his lips. He doesn’t care.

Thor shouts his name, somewhere from above, but Loki can only feel him inside, so damned deep inside. He’s shocked into biting down on the rug as Thor slams into him with one wild thrust before he’s pulling out and shooting hot white ropes of cum all over his ass.

When Loki thinks back on it, he may or may not have blacked out. Just for a moment.

“Mhrggh... is it over?” Loki mutters. His knees give way and Loki flops boneless against the rug, feeling thick streams of cum and oil running down the backs of his thighs and gaping hole. It’s pooling in the furs and he struggles to spread his legs to avoid the mess.

“Are you,” He gasps at the feeling of Thor’s half hard dick against his hip, “P-Planning to let me up now?

“Not until you’re good again.” Thor says, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“Then that was a waste.” Loki groans and shifts, his hands are curled, numb. He flexes them, rests his palms against his abused ass and pressing fingers into the flesh, spreading the cheeks just a little bit.

“You’ll have to try harder. Come inside next time.”

Fuck,” Thor says as he sucks in a breath.

The chains of Loki’s binding are draped over the curve of his hip and leg. The links clink against each other one by one as Thor uses one knee to nudge his legs apart. Loki sweeps his face into the rug to hide his shame and arousal and smirk.

“Better keep filling me up.”


Heimdall sees Odin’s thunderous mood long before the Allfather storms along the rainbow bridge.

“Word has reached that Thor is returned to us,” Odin begins, one eye casting about as though he expects his son to appear before him.

“Yes,” Heimdall says gravely, “He has entered Asgard with his brother using the Tesseract’s power. They arrived on the broken edge of the Bifrost a short while ago.”

“And?” Odin asks impatiently, bearded chin twitching. “What did he say? Where are they now?”

Heimdall sighs, embarrassment clear in his voice as he quotes:

“Loki’s been very, very bad. Do not worry. I will take him to my room.”