Avengers Cinematic, "Winter's Service" (Thor/Loki) - NSFW

[sincere]

Laufey's heir is clever -- and ambitious. He's not content merely to trap the son of Odin and extract a ransom from his powerful father. He wants to have all that strength, all that power, all that glory -- submit to his will.

Thor/Jotun!Loki. Contains explicit sexual content, oral exclusively at the moment, later content will involve Thor as service top, as per the request. Also non-consensual sex, mind control, slavery, xenophobia/xenokink, all sorts of things oh god.

All parts included.



.winter's service.
part 1

Agitation simmered under his skin, but Thor kept his jaw tight and tried not to satisfy them with the sight of his struggling. The bonds that held his hands behind his back were too strong to break and too tight to work loose, and they had shrouded his head with a sack. He could see nothing, and his fingers flexed restlessly behind his back, aching for Mjolnir's familiar weight.

He had been deceived, and it burned inside him. He had been told that the frost giants were stupid: mindless aggressive monsters that preyed upon lesser beings and huddled in their ruins, grungy rock trolls without the cleverness. And yet somehow they had lured him into a trap, taken down the scion of the house of Odin, and the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, a handful of the greatest warriors of Asgard.

Thor gnashed his teeth, struggling with the indignity, and the growing sick knowledge in the pit of his stomach that dignity was the least of his problems. To be captured by the enemy on an illicit foray into their territory... His father would be furious and shamed, and he dreaded to think what they would have to give to the frost giants in exchange for his return.

"It was more than worth it. Just as you said..."

"The winter of Jotunheim will fell the might of Asgard! You will bring us back to glory!"

"You get ahead of yourself. First... there is the matter of what to do with our spoils."

They were speaking around him, as if he couldn't hear; most of their voices were thick and gravelly, but there was one softer voice, tenor and clear.

"We have no need of these others. We will return them to Asgard."

"You would turn them loose, Brother? But our advantage..."

"This one is the real prize."

Thor heard the shifting in front of him, cloth against skin, leather against stone. They recognized him, he knew, and he snarled, voice muffled by the sack, "Return my friends unharmed! Take me, and I will--"

"My prince--!" he heard one of his friends cry, a second before a heavy fist the size of his head slammed into the back of his neck, and he grunted, slammed forward against the rock.

The tenor voice scolded, "Gently, Helblindi. He is a very precious finding."

One of the frost giants snarled, "He dared to give you instruction!"

"That does not offend me. I don't have to listen -- and he won't dare to challenge me for long."

Thor bristled, snarling as he started back onto his knees, but he had no opportunity to interject. There was already movement, sound, as if at a trigger, and he turned his head blindly to try and get an idea of what was happening.

"Unhand me," he heard Sif's voice growl. "I will not leave him!"

"Your Highness! Thor! We will return for you!" Volstagg exclaimed.

Thor shut his eyes tightly, and opened his mouth to reply, but he was again beaten to it, his raw, "Go!" spoken over by the tenor voice, commanding, "Take them to the Bifrost site and wait there until they're taken by the guardian. Don't leave until the bridge has closed behind them."

Thor heard his four friends get carried away, and he wished fervently that he could go with them -- that he could take it all back, return to this morning's brilliant idea to go to Jotunheim and punish the frost giants for the mockery of their appearance during his confirmation ceremony. They had paid sneering tribute to the future king of Asgard and spoken with double-edged words that made his hand itch for his hammer. It had seemed the gravest of insults, and he had thought they would never expect the retaliation for their subtle slights -- and yet here he was.

A gust of wind rose as their noise faded away, whipping numbing chill against his skin, and he curled his shoulders away from it, thinning his lips stubbornly.

"Cold?" asked the tenor voice, solicitous. "That will not be a problem for much longer. I have prepared a special provision for you, o prince."

"I want no special treatment from your kind," Thor growled, under his breath as he felt the owner of the voice shifting closer; too quiet, he thought, for the frost giant behind him to hear.

Another soft cloth sound, confusing; Jotun did not wear much in the way of clothing, or so he had always observed, and shouldn't it have left -- more of an impression, one of those thick bodies in motion? On an Asgardian, he might have thought it the sound of someone kneeling down to his level, but with his eyes covered and his hands bound he was powerless to tell.

The soft voice said, "I know that you would sooner freeze to death in the snow than accept this fate. That is part of why it is so very delightful to have you bound to me."

Then gentle fingers found his neck, and Thor found himself reeling with surprise; they were cold, the texture of skin unfamiliar, but they were small, tracing his skin beneath the rough cloth of the burlap sack with a delicate touch. The voice was definitely male, but the tapering fingers that brushed him were not those of a frost giant, nor of a warrior. For the first time he wondered, Who is this?

He was so startled that he didn't even notice the collar brushing his skin until it clicked into place around his neck.

Abruptly fury raged through him, and Thor thrashed to his feet, lunging forward with shoulder first, knocking the unexpectedly slight figure in front of him backward into the snow. He pulled once more against his bindings, muscles straining with effort, and he had an instant's warning as the frost giant behind him roared in anger and charged for him. Thor dodged, blind, tumbling to the side and rolling back to his feet with practiced ease, trying to shake the sack off his head so that he could have a sporting chance. He didn't need his hands to defeat a lone frost giant and whatever mad Asgardian traitor had helped them plan this--

"Stop!"

And to Thor's surprise, he did.

The tenor voice was strained but clear, commanding, and though anger still filled him, Thor found himself unable to move. There was more rustling, before those delicate fingers were back at his throat, this time digging deep, threatening.

"It's too late to struggle now," hissed the other. "I own you. So shut your fool mouth and follow me like a good little plaything."

And once again, Thor did.

He noticed only later on their march that he no longer felt the cold; the air seemed mild on his face, the fierce wind that occasionally rose to drag his cape flat against him strong but not stealing the warm breath from his lungs. Suspicion began to rise in him: A sorcerer. He had been enspelled by the collar. An enchantment of warmth, and of obedience.

Sorcery was something he could not fight with muscle. An art that the Jotun were said to specialize in, but very rare in these times, forgotten but for a few ancient sages. He had been caught unprepared, and now he was trapped by it. If he could call Mjolnir, he might be able to break the binding, but with his hands so awkwardly behind him, he had no leverage to wield it with.

From the sounds beneath his feet and echoing up to his ears he could tell when they entered a building, or a ruin, more likely. They came to a stop, the massive hand of the frost giant pulling him back and pushing him to his knees once more. The tenor voice said, briefly full with some sort of emotion that Thor could not name, "Laufey King."

Thor went stiff, and he recognized the deep, thick voice that answered. "Loki... What have you and your brother brought? The intruder?"

"More than just an intruder." Fingers grasped the hood and pulled it away, and then finally Thor could see again: the world was black and blue, and above him loomed the tall, hungry figures of the frost giants, in the same dull blue as the winter all around them, but for the blood-red of their eyes. They wore only light armor and loincloths, scarred with ritual marks and the ridges of their clans, their bare heads crowned by skullcaps.

Thor's gaze settled fleetingly on Laufey, and then skimmed to look back at his captors, and found to his surprise that the sorcerer he had assumed to be Asgardian was not. The one who now held the hood was a startling sight: he could be scarcely six feet tall, with deep blue skin and ridges lining his face and a thick, smooth fall of black hair, curling into wisps in the frigid air about his neck. He wore black leather and shrouding robes lined with fur, with a woven circlet of gold about his forehead. He seemed both Jotun and not, out of place here.

And he -- Loki, the strange small Jotun -- said with great satisfaction, "The firstborn son and heir of Asgard."

Thor returned his attention to Laufey with a start, and he meant to speak, the words so clear in his mind: You will find no concession from my father. Release me with my friends and we will forget this incident and there will be no war, thick with a pride and confidence he did not feel. But his mouth did not open, and he said nothing at all. The sorcerer Loki's command bound him silent still.

"Ahhh," Laufey said, leisurely, his red gaze taking Thor in with great relish. "This... Odin will pay dearly to make this right."

"You mean to give him back?" Loki asked, and Thor looked at him, surprised to find him -- pouting. What else could Laufey possibly intend but that?

Laufey shifted stance, leaning forward on his throne and saying, "It is a waste not to use him as a tool to bargain with."

"Is it not our custom to make intruders to our realm pay with their service?" Loki asked, and then coaxed, "Think of how the other realms would take it, to see Asgard's golden prince bound to the will of your heir."

Thor's gaze fixed on him, eyes widening. This... midget? This giant who stood shorter than an Asgardian was the heir to a kingdom of giants who could have easily crushed his chest in their grips? How had he not heard of that?

Laufey's attention had grown contemplative, but he said, "Think of the war it will bring to our people, enslaving that prince."

Loki shrugged, unconcerned. "It needn't be forever. Tell Odin King that we will return him in -- a year's time. Hardly any at all. Tell him that he will work to pay for the lives that he took, and his treachery in breaking our treaty to come here. Then he will be returned. Surely that is a fair arrangement, and in the meantime it is to your glory, to your status among all the realms. They will all see you victorious over Odin!"

There was an almost eager tone to his voice, and Thor tensed, feeling abruptly upset again, freed from paralyzing surprise. He had heard of the Jotun custom of enslaving trespassers, but it was a barbaric act, and never -- never! -- forced on those with rank and wealth to barter with. This was not an exercise of custom, it was an exercise of dominance, an excuse for humiliation. Odin would never allow it, and he would have said so, shouted it to the cracked pillars until an avalanche spilled down around them to bury them all, but he was effectively gagged by the collar's command.

"Or we can be paid in our rightful treasures now," Laufey countered, unswayed.

"Father," Loki said, and now his tone was low, soft, pretty; "I want this."

His fingers fell almost idly, as if he didn't notice them, to Thor's hair, stroking sweetly through the gold strands the way he might stroke a pet. Thor's lips curled, and he made to pull away, but the fingers tightened harshly, so that further movement would be to pull his own hair out by the roots, and he was very reluctantly still, biding his time.

Laufey watched, and his expression shifted, a smug smile slowly creasing his thin mouth. "On the other hand," he said lingeringly, "it does seem a fair arrangement."

The pair that had brought him to Laufey's throne room took him out again, speaking in quiet voices, a sibilant whisper and a dull rumbling both just under the threshold of Thor's hearing. He tried to focus on what he could do instead of think about what he could do nothing to change: his father's reaction, whether or not this bargain would be allowed, what was in store for him... Loki, who had laid claim to him, had called himself Laufey's heir; but Helblindi was the leader of the Jotun who had come to Asgard for the confirmation ceremony, and it was his name that Thor had always heard when they spoke of Laufey's future successor. He towered twice Loki's height, but listened to his murmured words with every evidence of respect and attention, from what Thor could tell.

They stepped down the vast empty halls, pillars stretching hundreds of feet overhead to the high arcing ceiling; remnants of a majesty that Jotunheim had lost long ago. It was an almost unnerving contrast to Asgard's gleaming spires: desolate and nearly abandoned, empty, providing meager shelter against the elements. They were the only ones who traveled its corridors, and when they finally paused, Thor looked about. No one else was in eyesight, and there was little indication that these rooms, of the many closed doors that they had passed, were inhabited, much less by princes of the realm.

"Will you want his hands freed, Brother?" Helblindi asked, his red eyes disapproving as he studied Thor.

"He won't be of much use to me if I leave him bound fit to be chained to a wall," Loki answered, also turning to echo the glance, more considering. "Nor would he be much of a prize. The collar will ensure that he obeys me, either way."

The giant shook his head, and said simply, "Relying on these tricks may prove dangerous."

Loki flicked fingers, dismissing the concern. He stepped squarely in front of Thor, who straightened to return the glance with every ounce of pride he possessed.

"You will take no action to harm me, nor allow any harm to come to me. You will not harm my father, nor my brother Helblindi, while you are here. You will not leave my presence, except when I command, to do only as I command. You will not--" He lifted a finger, precautionary. "--summon your weapon."

Thor's lips thinned again, frustrated, but he was powerless to speak.

The black-haired man paused, thinking it over, and then said, "That should be sufficient. You may release him now, Helblindi."

There were no further objections, Helblindi stepping behind him and reaching for the bindings. Thor kept his gaze squarely on the little Jotun prince, smiling so pleased with himself, and thought about how much he wanted to strike him; willed his arm to lift and his fist to fly out, willed Mjolnir to cross the barren wasteland to fit into his hand, with all his might.

Loki waited, very pointedly, and then smiled more. "Well? Nothing?" he said sweetly. Thor's eyes narrowed, glaring at his captor.

"You see, Helblindi? All will be well," Loki said, lifting a hand to touch his collarbone, and his companion repeated the gesture before they parted ways. Loki beckoned idly for Thor to follow him as he pushed open the great doors to the chamber with both hands. Thor moved after him, grudging.

Compared to the bleak exterior of the ruined palace, these chambers were almost cozy: decorated with furs and scattered canvas, little ornaments of crystal and stone lining the walls, littered with papers and inkwells and thick bound books. It was lit with a cool orb of pale light that flared up as Loki stepped into the room. There was furniture, some of it a little big but most of it adjusted in size, and the rooms were not quite so tall as the corridors outside.

"So how much of a fool are you, Odinson?" the sorcerer asked lightly, stepping beyond the outer room and toward his bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder at Thor behind him. "If I permit you to speak, knowing that I can take your words away from you again at any time, will you use them well instead of lashing out like a beast? Nod yes or no."

There was nothing in all the realms that Thor would have liked more than to snarl his hatred at the self-satisfied bastard, but the wording left no room to doubt how unproductive that would be. And he was sick to death of standing silent as well as helpless while he was talked around and spoken of; better, at least, to have the right to talk if he could not act. Thor nodded his agreement, stiffly, and Loki smiled.

"Then you may speak," he allowed.

Thor finally opened his mouth, and the words came out, just as he intended them: "You have no officious rules about what I can and can not say?" It even held the resentment that he wanted.

Loki chuckled, turning away again. "I confess to having some curiosity about what you might find worth observing or inquiring. Try not to disappoint me."

It was irritating; more than that, maddening. It deserved the response that Thor so ached to give it. But he could not settle the matter physically, and he knew that verbally would undo this small good. Thor rolled his shoulders. "How are you the heir to Jotunheim?" he asked. "Helblindi, is he not..."

"Is that what they think, in Asgard?" Loki mused, shrugging out of his fur-lined robe and letting it fall to the ground carelessly. "Your information is greatly outdated, Your Highness. Pick that up," he added, innocent.

Thor snarled, but his body was already obeying. "This is demeaning," he pronounced, thinly restraining his desire to shout, to hurl the words at him angrily.

"Oh, you figured that out? So clever. Odin would surely be proud," Loki said, a mocking smile coming so easily to his features.

Thor strangled back his response. Ask questions. Find information. Learn about this situation. It was the advice he had always been given and never found a use for, but which had somehow lingered in the back of his mind.

"So it is not the case?" he said, tightly. "Helblindi is no longer the heir?"

"Not for centuries." Loki had stripped himself from his leather armor and circlet, leaving him now in little more than a woven loincloth and a slim-fitting tunic. He slid onto his bed, reclining on the elevated dais covered with a thick straw mat and piles of furs and quilts. He propped his head on one hand, drawing one knee up, looking supremely content and relaxed as he watched Thor continue to pick up after him. He mused, "You in your glittering, flourishing city never look to us here in Jotunheim; you see nothing of what we do, do you?"

Thor returned the dismissal with a cool, "What is there to see but mangy curs fighting over their scraps?"

That made Loki rise up again, although he looked amused. "Bold words, from a scrap," he drawled, pushing himself to his feet and beckoning Thor to come to him.

There was something awry here. Something strange. Thor asked as he moved nearer, "Do you speak from hearsay, or have you been to Asgard? I would have seen you there." The Asgardians would have been surprised indeed to see a frost giant with an appearance as unusual as Loki's. Word would have rippled through the great city like water.

"You did see me," Loki said, lips curving up. Thor's feet took him so close that they were scarcely inches apart, eye-to-eye, Loki standing just slightly shorter than Thor. He was desperately aware of how easy it would have been to reach up, to grab that slender neck in his hands and squeeze, to lift and throw him bodily through the stone wall. The Jotun sorcerer was lithely-built; thin, so that Thor's arms were as thick around as his waist. There would be no competition in terms of strength.

But he couldn't move, and the thoughts were interrupted abruptly as the blue simply melted off of Loki's skin, his red eyes draining of their malevolent color; in a matter of seconds he was pale-skinned and raven-haired and green-eyed, and Thor realized with shock that he had in fact seen this man before -- a bystander during his ceremony, standing out from the others at the front of the crowd because he had not been rejoicing, but watching with a distant, strange smile and lidded eyes. He ground out, "You are Aesir!"

"No," Loki said softly, and the color flooded back into him, blushing his skin blue. "That is only an illusion, to trick the shallow eyes of your people. This is who I am. This is who you submit to."

Submit? The word rankled deep, no doubt just as Loki had intended it to, but this blow to his pride struck harder than his irritation with the insults of earlier. "Never," he said, voice raw.

"You think so?" Loki said, still softer, with a satisfied twist to his mouth. "Then let us find out.

"Kneel."

Thor felt himself complying a heartbeat before the command even registered; he was only just starting to be alarmed when he was on his knees, his gaze level with Loki's stomach, watching the rise and fall of his chest through the thin cloth of his tunic. And only then did he think, What does he want? A show of obedience? A gesture of humility? He would not dare -- he would not dare to coerce sexual favor from the future king of Asgard!

But the fingers that settled on his hair this time were slow, stroking almost tenderly, and they moved with purpose, gently turning his gaze lower.

Loki murmured, "Have you ever lain with a man, Asgardian?"

Thor felt emotion surge in him, rising up hot and fast so that he could not control it, only snap, "You are a lunatic if you think that when I am freed, this would not--!"

"Answer my question, and answer it in detail," Loki interrupted him, and then Thor was saying, "Never. There were a few fleeting encounters, satisfied with hands and mouths alone."

He flushed darkly as soon as the words were out of his mouth, feeling abruptly betrayed and angry about it. But Loki seemed pleased, fingers slipping from his hair to trace the short hair of his beard, brush his lips. He wished he could bite them, but his body would not obey.

"So you will know this part," the sorcerer said, his voice humming like a purr, and lifted his hands to pull his tunic up, over his head. He let it fall to the floor, and then his fingers were tangling in gold hair again, pulling his head up roughly.

"Look at me," Loki commanded, a languidness in his red eyes. "Look at me, because I want you to see, and to fully understand, what you are about to do."

Thor stared at his face for a moment more, unwillingly searching out his distinctive features: high cheekbones and tapering jaw, the rich curtain of black hair -- things that had made him attractive as an Aesir, and that persisted strangely despite the Jotun coloring that Thor would have found blinding him to all else, if not for that glimpse without it. Even his blue skin was smooth and rich and flawless, not scarred and haggard the way most of the giants Thor had encountered were; his eyes, though, those were still an eerie red, alien and unsettling.

His gaze edged slowly down, tracing the pattern of lines that swept from Loki's forehead down the sides of his face, his neck, to his chest, where the lines curved to follow the narrow planes of his shoulders, weaving in loving patterns down his arms. His chest was smooth and bare, but the markings returned again to caress his ribs, twining elegantly over taut stomach to flare out again over his hips. This skin too was unmarred, as if he had seen not one day of fighting in his whole life, but he was slender and leanly muscled. It was impossible to imagine him looming the height of his kinsmen; he was... right at this size. In spite of himself Thor wondered if the rest of Loki had the same strange, firm stonelike smoothness that his fingers did; he wondered if the lines were just raised ridges, or if they would feel different to the touch.

Questions he would never care to find the answers to. Thor growled thickly, "What I see -- is disgusting."

"Be careful, or I will tell you to speak only in truths," Loki said, light and unbothered. "But I have another use for your tongue now."

Thor felt his heart beat faster in his chest, but the rest of him felt almost numb. Loki was really going to say it. And he was really going to obey. No matter how intently he willed it, no matter how powerfully he focused, he was incapable of so much as shifting from his kneeling position in front of the sorcerer. The muscles did not even tense, his body completely compliant to Loki's orders.

The smile sliced wide over the Jotun's face, and he said, slow, tasting each word, "You will use your mouth to pleasure me, Thor Odinson. And you will do it... reverently."

And then immediately Thor's hands were reaching up, finding the ties of the leather loincloth and pulling it open, pulling the last covering from skin so that Loki was naked before him.

He was not hard yet, his cock thickened but not erect, and Thor's head turned to press a soft kiss to the length of him, feeling rather than seeing a sigh go through the Jotun in response. He nuzzled in closer, lips and beard caressing the sensitive flesh, encouraging it to blush darker with blood, taking a breath and feeling briefly disoriented by the dusky scent, not unpleasant.

The restlessness was still seething in him, coiling tight under his skin. He wanted to do a thousand things other than attending to Loki's pleasure attentively, coaxing him almost sweetly to arousal, behaving in the manner of an infatuated lover.

It was only heartbeats before Loki was ready, and then he needed to give no further instruction; Thor felt his lips parting, and he moved forward to take the tip of Loki's cock in his mouth, circling his tongue around it before starting to ease lower. Thor's hands tightened into fists, resting helplessly on his knees, stubbornly determined not to give him the satisfaction of touching more than he was compelled.

Loki sighed again, a hotter, more vibrant sound than before, petting Thor's hair gently now. The cool of his fingers should have been a potent reminder of blue skin, of a touch that could wither and blacken flesh, but it was hard to think of Loki -- infuriating and ruthless though he might be -- doing such a thing after all of this. Instead of disgust, all he felt was reluctance.

And as he moved, stroking with his mouth and flickering tongue over the sensitive parts that he remembered dimly from past encounters, he pulled little sounds from the Jotun prince that were wholly familiar. Soft gasps of pleasure, low thrumming noises of approval -- things that made Thor close his eyes and envision someone else standing there, an Aesir. He had never knelt before another man and taken his cock in mouth -- would never volunteer to enter into such a demeaning position. But imagining his companion as someone else, he could begin to relax, even to appreciate: the way that a certain curl of his tongue prompted a small involuntary rock of hip, the way that harder pressure inspired quiet voice into a louder moan.

In spite of himself, Thor found himself responding to that want, the steady pulse of his heart speeding slightly. He edged closer, skimmed his teeth gently against the shaft, and he felt a flare of real triumph when the other man exhaled a choked sound, fingers tightening automatically in Thor's hair.

"Your mouth is so hot," Loki murmured, a husk in his voice. "You have -- some skill with your tongue after all, Odinson."

Thor opened his eyes in reflex, glancing up at him; he couldn't help the suspicion that this had been the goal, to make him look, to remind him, to ruin that delusion that this was something else. But Loki wasn't watching him and gloating. His head was tipped back, his breathing fast, a flush darkening his high cheekbones. It was infinitely strange to see that hunger on the slim Jotun, but his rapt concentration on the sensation was obvious, and the sight of it sent a frisson of answering interest to coil heavily in Thor's belly, as if the sounds and movements hadn't been distracting enough.

He should finish this quickly, he thought suddenly, and then his body responded. Thor leaned forward, a hand curling around the sorcerer's hipbone, and he took Loki deeper into his mouth, as far back as he could. He hollowed his cheeks, drawing on him, and let the suction linger deliberately. The reaction was instant, another shameless moan slipping from between thin lips, and Thor's fingers tightened on cool skin to keep Loki from rocking forward.

Cooperating garnered much more efficient results than simply allowing it. Loki did not fight his gentle grip, shifting his hips and tensing at each slow, elaborate curl of tongue mapping his length. Thor was relentless, using every trick that he knew, everything he liked to be done to him, with such focus it felt like worship.

Loki breathed, "Yes... Just like that, that feels so good," the words spilling out of him, sending another flicker of lust into Thor's gut. "And -- when I finish, I want you to drink it down."

For a brief moment he felt the irritation again, the indignity of the position, but Thor only redoubled his efforts, suckling harder, bobbing his head to mimic motion. His own heart was beating quick, loud in his ears but drowned out by Loki's pleased hiss. His grip tightened on Loki's hips, holding him still with greater strength, but Loki only responded by pulling his hair, urging him to move faster.

Then it was over, the slighter man coming in thick jets, with a shuddering groan rattling in the air between them; Thor struggled to swallow as he had been instructed, closing his eyes again for a moment. Finally Loki sighed, taut muscles unlocking, and stroking an unsteady hand through Thor's hair, one more approving caress.

Loki eased back a step, settling on the edge of the mat with a lazy murmur. The red of his eyes was muted, hazy with satisfaction as he looked at Thor again, surveying him -- on his knees, lips reddened, breathing fast despite his best efforts to rein it in. The flush in his face and the uncomfortable spread of his thighs was hint enough to his own state of arousal.

"Still determined to... never submit?" Loki asked him, thickened voice curling with amusement.

Thor felt his skin heat further, and he said nothing, allowing the frost giant his victory -- however short-lived he was determined it would be.

"You found that exciting," he continued into the silence, one foot extending, settling lightly on Thor's knee, bringing the god's attention uncomfortably to the heat pressing against his trousers not far higher. "What part, exactly, did you enjoy about being forced to service a disgusting creature like myself?"

"Enough," Thor growled, and Loki only laughed, and said, agreeably, "I suppose it is."

Loki reclined gracefully against the furs, making a humming noise of contentment before sliding up to the stuffed pillows above him. For a moment, Thor did not understand, wondered if he was meant to... But Loki pulled a fur over his hips idly, settling down, and Thor couldn't help a reflexive, almost petulant, "And now you just go to sleep?"

The sorcerer stroked fingers through his hair and chuckled, casting another glance down at him, still kneeling there, aroused. "How would you have me return the favor?" he asked, the sweetness of poison in his voice. "Should I use my mouth on you...?" His lips parted, and he ran his tongue lightly over his lips. "They call me Silvertongue, you know. For... many reasons."

Thor couldn't quite contain the shiver, the pulse of excitement that sent through him. He shouldn't have found it arousing; the idea of the blue-skinned Jotun touching him, mouth stretching around his cock, laving it with the same enthusiasm he had been made to show... should have repulsed him. But in this state, he was finding his tastes less discerning.

Loki's voice dropped, "Or were your claims of my hideousness exaggerated? Would you like to sink between my legs? Mount me rough and hard to take your revenge from my body...?" His fingertips skimmed over his own chest, down to his flat stomach, his narrow hip; paused there, the furs shifting in a way that Thor could imagine only too easily being his thighs sliding apart, offering himself in a way that Thor recognized on a primal level. It made it hard to breathe.

"Or is it the force that you enjoyed? Would you prefer me to show you my power over you yet again, and push you back and take you--"

That tore him from his reverie, and Thor snapped, "I would have you not at all!" cutting off the hateful flow of words.

That only made Loki chuckle. "Not like that, then? That's fine." He lifted his arm again, slung it behind his head, contentedly. "You needn't stay in that position, but do not move from that section of the floor. You may sleep where you like." His red eyes closed, and with them, so went the harsh light illuminating the room.

"Good night," Loki's voice said into the darkness, sly.

And then Thor was left, pulse hot and ready in his cock, tasting seed on his tongue, and frustration threatening to overtake what little reason he had remaining.


part 2

He slept poorly, curled on his side and fully-dressed. He was not cold, not with the collar that controlled him, but the discomfort and the unsatisfied hot pulse of his blood were hardly soothing. By the time Thor stirred the room had not brightened; there were no windows to the outside, and even if there were, Thor could not have imagined there would be sunshine and clear skies in Jotunheim. When he straightened, getting stiffly up from the floor beside the bed, he gazed down briefly at his sleeping captor.

He should have thought about escaping, or attacking. He should have imagined crouching down and wrapping fingers around that thin neck and snapping it. He should have plotted his freedom, and his revenge.

Instead, he just watched, thinking of nothing at all. Loki was curled in on himself, sleeping on his side facing away; in the darkness, it was hard to see anything but his vague outline.

It was only a minute before Loki stirred under his gaze, lifting his head from the pillow first, propping himself up on one elbow. He glanced behind him, and the pale light of the magic orb returned immediately as his eyes opened. His features had been slack in sleep, but they were already set into neutral lines by the time he turned around. When he saw Thor, he rolled onto his back, stretching, and smiled, his gaze raking slowly over the god's body.

Thor stiffened. "What do you want from me?" he demanded.

"You sound like a kidnapped damsel in a Vanir stage play," Loki said, his voice dry, and Thor's expression darkened immediately. But Loki continued, answering him idly as if no thought at all went into the response: "I should think it obvious by this point. I want for the other realms to see Asgard made mockery of. I want to make Odin All-Father suffer for what he has done to Jotunheim. I want you to service me. --Is that really so difficult to understand?"

It was both terribly simple and simply terrible. To use that small trespass as a means to lessen the prestige of Asgard among the Nine Realms... and it would work. It would be devastatingly effective.

Thor's failing. That was the worst part. And he could not say what Odin would do; he feared there would be nothing either of them could do to make it right.

"You brought your ruin upon yourselves," Thor said, raking fingers through his hair impatiently. "You are the ones who made war upon Midgard. A realm that was under Asgard's protection!"

"Under its dominion," Loki countered, dismissively. "But that is the Aesir way, isn't it? To stand tall over the other realms, for everyone to see your supremacy, content to leave them in peace so long as no one else challenges you?"

Thor frowned, not seeing the distinction, and not caring. Midgard had been and still was under the protection of Asgard; acting against it would always bring down the wrath of the gods. "If you know it to be so, then you must know that Jotunheim is at fault for attacking the humans to begin with."

An amused chuckle. "Sorry to try to take your toy," he said, amused.

It was far from a concession, and it gave Thor nothing to react to, no momentum to carry him. So the blond god paused, struggling for something else insightful to say. He was newly-woken, and even if he had been fully engaged, he had rarely been involved in complex political discourse, so that thread of conversation was not his choice. Instead, he asked, "You said -- servicing you? What did you mean by that?"

Loki gave him an amused look. "You do have difficulty understanding, don't you."

That was the wrong question, then. Thor flushed, and then stated flatly, "More of what you wanted last night."

"There you go, you're getting it!"

Thor opened his mouth again to complain, but Loki's fingers skimmed low over his stomach again, an echo of the teasing gesture from last night. It distracted Thor briefly before he returned his gaze to the sorcerer's face. "Surely you must have willing partners among your own race," he said, for something to say.

Loki laughed outright. "Ah, yes, of course. The willing partners of my own race... Because I am so very compatible with them."

Color slowly rose in Thor's face as he recognized the truth of that. It was not uncommon for frost giants to be over ten feet tall; Loki's own brother was twice his height. Proportionally, it would be akin to an adult and a young child. He had heard of half-breeds, but never understood it: it had always been something of a joke to Thor and his brothers-in-arms. Something he might have snickered about with Fandral in undertones. 'Imagine the poor bastard hard-up enough to lie with a frost giantess!' 'Somehow I doubt she'd be getting anything out of it either, unless he has a mammoth manhood.' 'And if he did, couldn't he fetch an Aesir maid?'

This was the depth to which he had sunk: imagining the workings of how an Aesir-Jotun halfling would be conceived.

Loki stretched out again, continuing, "I have had Jotun in my bed before, very willing indeed. Other races, as well. And I know what I like." He lifted a hand, beckoning. "I prefer partners who are closer to my height, since they're conveniently available, littered about the other realms. And I prefer for them to be proud -- powerful -- and attentive."

There was no command, just that little hand gesture, but Thor took a step closer to the edge of the bed even so. It was better to encourage Loki to ask; each command stole Thor's autonomy, forcing him to act, and he would prefer to be in control of his actions as much as he could, the better to potentially catch the sorcerer off-guard. "Attentive?" he asked, warily, and then, "Attentive. Servicing. It sounds like you just want to lie back passively."

"Oh, you really are getting it!"

That gave Thor pause. He didn't have a way to conceptualize what Loki wanted. What man would want to be passive sexually? That was a woman's role, and even so Thor had known many women who were dissatisfied with passivity and became more aggressive. It would be shameful for a man to just lie still while others lavished pleasure on him. Who would volunteer for such an act?

"--But you're confused," Loki finished, with some amusement.

He patted the bed beside him and Thor slowly slid one knee onto the straw mattress, edging closer reluctantly. "You don't want to take your pleasure? Why?" he asked.

"Do you want me to?" the Jotun asked, and then smirked as Thor scowled at him. A hand lifted to caress the line of Thor's jaw with his cool fingers. "Foolish Asgardian," he said. "I have had my fill of working and struggling for happiness. Now I have others do it. Why should I labor for my own ecstasy -- or, may winter take me, yours -- when I could lie back and have you give me that pleasure?"

In spite of himself, Thor felt amusement bubbling up in his chest, and he lowered his head, chuckling. "...I think that is the laziest thing I have ever heard," he said sincerely.

Such a sentiment was very nearly the last thing he had ever expected -- from a Jotun, who were reputed to be diligent workers and sparing of personal conveniences; from a sorcerer, who would have to study and train with great dedication to become accomplished at his craft; from an ambitious prince and future ruler who had trapped the son of Odin and scion of Asgard to his will, certainly.

Laufey's heir was spoiled. And, perhaps, if Thor's ear was not mistaken, a touch bitter.

"Laziness is for those with the power to justify it," Loki countered, his own lips curved up. "Now, no more flattery from you. I find myself looking forward to some of that pleasure we've been talking about."

But still he gave no command, and Thor hesitated, just a beat, before saying thickly, "In what manner?"

A speculative light came into the other man's red eyes, or perhaps a trick of his features made it seem so. Either way, Thor had the feeling that Loki recognized the gesture that he intended.

You do not need to command me to do it; I will comply freely.

Loki skimmed fingers down to his shoulder, over the curve of his bicep. "...Call me curious, but I would see how you treat a partner you took willingly to your bed." And his head tilted, one eyebrow lifting eloquently. "There is oil in the bedside stand. Do you know what that is for?"

Thor felt heat creeping up his neck into his face, but he said slowly, "I have -- heard of such things." Another act that would shame Loki that Loki himself seemed to utterly not mind.

"You'll like it," Loki promised him, and then smiled, eyes lidding. "Just as you enjoyed last night."

"I did not. That was your doing," Thor said immediately, and Loki laughed at him, the arrogant bastard.

"My command only told you what to do, not how to feel about it. Finding it arousing was all your idea, Your Highness." Loki tipped his head up, looking at Thor, the tall god looming over him now in his agitation. He murmured, "You wanted me. You don't need to deny it. You can have me, now. Isn't that what you want?"

Thor felt his gaze flicker down, taking in the sorcerer's lean body. The blue of his skin and the red of his eyes were still strange, but he found them less jarring than he had before. He thought about his own tan hand resting on that cobalt-colored hip, pushing slim thighs up, burying himself deep and making Loki lose that aloof superior air and cry out, coming apart wantonly on Thor's cock with the intensity of their coupling.

--Yes. He wanted that.

Thor was breathing quicker as he looked up again, reaching blindly for the bedside stand. "The way I would take a partner in my bed?" he repeated.

Loki smiled again, content, and spread out leisurely beneath him. "Just so."

He set the vial of oil on the bedspread, his gaze traveling Loki's body again, thoughtful. He put a hand flat on the subtle concave of the other man's stomach, stroking very lightly with his fingers and just feeling the texture of his skin; ever so slightly rough to the touch, not quite the same texture as Aesir skin. Curious, Thor brushed his fingers to a rounded hipbone, provoking a contented sigh from Loki, and traced the lines that marked Loki's skin. Their ridged texture intrigued him, and following their trail made Loki shiver.

Part of him thought, This is not something I would do with a partner I would take willingly to bed, for that partner would not have these makings, and then he quickly decided, I would kiss that partner. This is a replacement, since I will not be doing that.

Thor shifted closer, up on his knees over Loki's body, and for a fleeting moment he met red eyes and he had a vivid image of strangling the Jotun -- what he would truly be doing right now if he had the freedom to, freeing himself from this captivity, repaying the monster who bound him for this treatment. And he knew that Loki was imagining it too, from the smirk that slowly crossed his face.

Angry, Thor ducked his head and sought to erase that smirk the only way he had available. His mouth fastened on the side of Loki's neck, tongue curling to taste his flesh, while his hand settled flat on his the sorcerer's ribs, stroking almost sharply low over his vulnerable belly. Thor shifted his knees up, pushing under Loki's legs and nudging between his thighs deliberately. He sucked at the tough flesh and bit down, suddenly eager to see that clear skin marked by his mouth.

"Gentle," Loki said with distraction, fingers finding their way into Thor's trailing hair and pulling stubbornly. Thor could feel the quickening of his breathing, the stirring of his cock; he had liked it. He was being contrary, keeping control because he could.

Thor countered, "I thought you had asked for the treatment I give my companions. A heated, rough tumble can be--"

"Well, now I'm saying I want it gentle."

Loki tugged his head up slightly so that their eyes could meet again; his were lidded, their violent red muted and dark, but Thor could read the intent, the challenge, clearly in them. He had taken a stand and if Thor did not obey, the choice would be taken from him.

Thor let out a breath and forced himself to comply, taking heart that Loki had again asked instead of giving the command right away. With enough reinforcement, he could coax Loki out of the habit of using the obedience compulsion to force his hand. And then...

Truth be told, he didn't know what then, hadn't thought that far ahead. Vaguely he imagined to lower the sorcerer's guard, or weaken his spell, but he thought of nothing at all when he lowered his head again, nuzzling more tenderly at the juncture of Loki's neck, hand spanning his thin hip and stroking his thumb over the bone.

He still wanted to leave a mark -- something dark against Loki's skin, that would show above the fur that he had worn about his shoulders. But Loki wanted gentle, and so he flickered his tongue into the hollow of his throat instead, sweet. He felt Loki sigh again under his mouth, felt him shift responsively, and then the hand in his hair gentled, stroking and cupping the back of his neck.

Thor let his fingers rub over the ridges, following their elegant curve, and that got a shiver from the Jotun. Inspired, he moved to the lines marking Loki's neck, skimming his open mouth over them and then sucking lightly. Loki tensed a little under him, and made a small sound in his throat at the nip of teeth against the raised flesh.

It felt so different than it had last night. It was more exciting to explore this way, and find what was sensitive, how to get reactions from him... Thor slid both hands up, broad and warm over Loki's back, feeling the lean muscle and cool skin beneath his rough fingers while his mouth edged lower.

Loki pushed forward, thighs sliding against Thor's hips and his cock hard against the blond's stomach. "Touch me," he purred, his breath thin.

Thor chuckled. "First you have it fast, and then you tell me to rein myself in, and then you want it fast again?" He could spend the better part of an hour just mapping out Loki's chest at his leisure; ordinarily he enjoyed his coupling to be more passionate, but he could certainly be attentive when moved to it, and a challenge was more than reason enough.

"I want -- gentle and fast. Try to wrap your thick head around it."

He snorted his amusement this time, but he brought a hand between Loki's legs, cupping the length of his arousal, and the dark-haired sorcerer made a thick approving noise in his throat. Thor stroked him, and Loki rocked up into the caress. Though untouched, his own cock throbbed, echoing the hungry movement. After a night aching and restless, refusing to indulge in sating himself, it took very little to have him erect and ready for this, even though perhaps he should have found it distasteful.

Loki was quiet for a few moments, enjoying the sensation with little eager movements; his face was darkening, the blue of his skin turning deeper, and it took Thor a moment of watching to realize that his captor was flushing.

"Now use the oil," Loki said, his red eyes lidded; Thor was grateful not to have to look at their eerie glow. "And then -- your fingers, inside me."

This time it was enough of a command that Thor found himself moving even though in his mind he hesitated, uncertain. He uncapped the vial, letting the oil pool in the crease of his hand, and then rubbed it over his fingers to slick them. He wondered if his body would instinctively know more of this act than he did, if it understood the intent behind Loki's words. Inside me was not very detailed.

It proved irrelevant, since Loki had more commands for him. Loki watched him, and then said huskily, "I want you to stroke -- just stroke. Play with me, make it feel good."

Thor wet his lips, but his fingers were already moving between Loki's parted legs, tracing back to the ring of muscle he knew would be there. He rubbed slowly, making a slow circle around the puckered flesh, and looked up at Loki, seeking an indication that this was what he had intended, but the Jotun's head was tucked back against the pillows, his features tight, his lips parted in a silent, breathless sound. The sight of him made a surge of lust throb into Thor's cock, and he circled again, and then stroked up and down deliberately, a little faster, pushing against the rim but not quite pressing within his body.

Loki's hips shifted, his legs sliding apart, and then he made an impatient sound and said, "That's enough of that. Now -- inside. Just one."

In spite of the tension building in his own body, Thor laughed again, voice thick. "You are demanding," he observed, but even though those demands had driven Loki back into the orders that he wanted to avoid, Thor found himself incapable of resenting them. All he wanted was to explore this -- to push deeper -- to give Loki exactly what he asked for, and so he was holding his own breath as he nudged a finger past the tight ring of flesh, one thick finger sliding slowly into Loki's body.

"I told you-- I know what I like," Loki breathed, half a moan.

Thor only barely heard him. Outside the Jotun might be cool to the touch and thick-skinned, but inside he was hot, maddeningly soft, and tight enough that even just the one finger slick with oil required some effort to push all the way deep. He could not help but imagine it gripping his cock, forming a glorious sheath around him, with Loki's voice high in the air at each slam, his incessant talking replaced with wordless need.

He thrust his finger in and out a few times, struggling with his own want; futile as long as he had to wait for Loki to grow impatient again and give him orders. He was incapable of adding another finger, of hurrying them to what they both wanted, because Loki had said just one. When Loki's hips pushed up, legs flexing where they rested splayed across Thor's thighs, he asked, "And a second?"

"Yes..."

And then Thor pressed a second slick finger into Loki's body alongside the first, carefully easing the stretched ring open wider, and Loki shuddered in response. Thor could only imagine how sensitive that small muscle must be to make him crave this, the sorcerer still hard while Thor's thick fingers speared him intimately open, but he did not care. Right now all he knew was that he had to make room for his cock, and so he rocked in with his hand until he could work those fingers in more smoothly, scissoring them apart to open him up still more.

Loki moaned as he added a third finger without waiting for permission, but the buck of his hips to urge Thor's fingers deeper was a good sign. "Hurry -- and be done with it. I'm ready now."

Thor felt himself panting and he slowly drew his fingers out, taking his own arousal in hand; he felt scorchingly hot to his own touch, and he brought himself fully between Loki's legs, pressing his cock to the slicked entrance. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and prepared for the onslaught of sensation.

"--Wait!"

And then he froze, his gaze flying up to Loki's in disbelief. The other man was still spread beneath him, flushed and wanting and ready, but those red eyes were fixed on Thor's face again over the rising and falling of his chest.

"Would you still have me if that collar did not put you in my power?" Loki asked. His sly tone conveyed clearly that he expected no flowery words, no pretty fictions; that he was mocking Thor, even now, a heartbeat from being mounted like an animal.

Thor bared his teeth, the agitation returning. He thought that Loki must love reminding him at precisely the most inopportune moment of who he was, who they were, of every reason why this should not be happening. This was a frost giant, a monster; his enemy, planning to shame him and to humble Asgard; forcing him to this.

"I would sooner wring your neck," he said flatly.

Loki laughed, exulting in the answer, and purred, "Gently, Odinson. I will not have you rutting into me like you are bedding some whore, deep in your cups. You will be as sweet and considerate in our coupling as you would with a cherished lover."

"It will be not your wit or plotting, but your pettiness that proves the death of me," Thor growled, but without his permission he was already leaning forward, breaching his way into Loki's body slowly.

It was everything Thor had expected: wrapping tight and soft around him like a glove, the ring of muscle squeezing around his length as he eased in. inch by inch. He lowered his head, wrangling his instinctive reaction under control until he was seated against Loki's hips.

The other man was breathing just as raggedly, but his body adjusted quickly to the invasion, and after only a beat of stillness he made a frustrated noise, squirming beneath Thor's body, encouraging him to move. Thor shifted his grip, big hands stroking and careful, and then drew back and slid in again, slow and deliberate. He ducked his head, blond hair trailing over rich cobalt skin as he pressed a kiss to the side of Loki's neck. He felt the vibration under his lips as Loki gasped at a deeper thrust, and he couldn't help stepping up the pace, the leisurely movement quickening.

"Yes," Loki groaned, "that's -- what I want, gentle and fast..."

Thor responded to his need, fingers mapping out Loki's body, the ridged markings in his skin as he rocked in with his hips again, again; filling Loki so thoroughly that he squirmed and panted, his voice lifting in unsteady praise and half-vocalized noises that made Thor ache to do more, to send him crying out to the ceiling. But he didn't relent (couldn't relent) in his rhythm, rolling into the sorcerer and holding his slim body close.

Loki's legs hooked about his waist, muscle flexing under Thor's hands as he rocked to meet the pace. Thor's gaze flicked up to him, taking in the faint tension creasing his forehead, the part of his lips and his slack, distracted features; with his eyes closed like this, he was -- almost beautiful.

The blond ducked his head again, suckling at the knot in Loki's throat, skimming to find the pulse point beneath the thick skin and draw on it. In, and in, and in; not the quick, staccato pace that he was used to, but savoring, reveling in the sensation, and Thor found himself more aware of Loki's movements and sounds beneath him, finding pleasure in them almost as much as the sensation around his own cock.

Attentive, he thought, with just a flicker of distaste.

But it helped Thor recognize the signs of Loki growing close to his climax; the speeding breath and the louder cries, and Thor remembered his earlier interest in leaving a mark. He found one of the ridges trailing over Loki's neck, fastening to it heatedly; sucking and licking intently as he buried himself deep in the slighter man's body, dragging his teeth and then biting down. Loki arced against him with a quiet groan, and Thor felt a fierce approval rise in him. Loki liked it, yes, and it was not so rough that the gentle command would stop him...

He bit again, harder, holding the pressure and feeling Loki squirm, wanton under his weight. Another, quicker thrust, shoving deep, and he skimmed his teeth to the ridge and bit down on the little bit of raised flesh.

Loki bucked under him and moaned, loud and high, and Thor stilled, surprised somehow in spite of himself as he felt the Jotun releasing between them, seed splattering against his stomach. Then all at once Thor rocked in again, again, his pace quickening as he sought his own pleasure, determined this time not to be kept from it. Loki's body was soft and yielding as he rutted in for moments more, and he had still not managed to unwind his arms and legs from around Thor by the time he finished, spilling deep inside him.

Thor let out a shuddering breath, allowing himself to ease at last, lowering his head to pant against skin. Then all was quiet, each of them recovering, and they stayed that way for long moments. Loki let his limbs fall back to the furs, and Thor withdrew from him, rolling to the side on the straw mat.

He let out a ragged sigh. He felt good. Smug, even. Thor let his gaze dart to the side, settling on Loki's neck where he had bit down. He imagined he could see a darkness beneath the spit-slick skin, a darkness that might become a discoloration, a bruise that others would see and know.

Loki turned his head to the side, red eyes open and suddenly they were staring right at each other, scarcely a foot between them. The sorcerer ran his tongue over his lips to wet them, and then asked, huskily, "That wasn't so bad -- was it?"

Thor rolled his shoulders, and bragged, "I do not have bad couplings."

The Jotun laughed. "You certainly do not lack for confidence."

He seemed content to lie there, still splayed against the mat, and Thor took a moment to feel proud of himself: even against his will, he had clearly satisfied his bossy, nitpicky captor. But restlessness soon got the better of him, and he stretched out, asking, "What will you be doing today?"

Truthfully he didn't know what frost giants did on a regular basis; hunted for food, he supposed, and patrolled their borders. Both were tasks that didn't seem to fit their little prince, and so Thor would have half-believed any answer.

Loki opened his mouth to answer the question, but he was interrupted by a loud knock at the door, pounding on its solid frame. Loki was up from his sprawl quickly, a frown creasing his lips. "There aren't many that could be," he said, under his breath, and then glanced at Thor. "Say nothing until he is gone, and try to look dull." Then, before Thor could even nod, the Jotun said slyly, "That's perfect," and pushed himself upright, fetching his loincloth from the ground.

That insolent wretch. Thor felt amusement tug at him again as he moved to follow, more slowly -- dressing fully before he went to see the visitor. Loki was one thing; other Jotun remained quite another. He would show them no weakness in public, even if he chose to relent to his captor in private.

Loki's voice greeted the visitor with, "How unexpected to find you at my door this morning, Byleistr."

"You do make it difficult, Brother," ground a thick, deep voice. "The last three times I managed to track down your dwelling, you moved within a week."

"I dislike stagnation. The moment a chamber feels too familiar -- I get this maddening itch to experiment."

A second brother? Thor wondered, pulling on his tunic and stepping out into the outer chamber, now comfortable in his state of dress. Loki was alarmingly dwarfed by the figures in the doorway, all in loincloths and metal armor. The figure in the lead had no kindness in his features as he looked down -- not quite as tall as Helblindi, Thor suspected, but more than tall enough to tower over Loki -- but the frost giants flanking him seemed less stern, gazing at their future king with mixed interest and some respect.

"You should have told me," the leader growled again, and Thor's assumption that he was Byleistr was confirmed. "I wished to bring you a gift."

Byleistr's dull blood-colored eyes looked up, finding Thor and lingering on him while his followers kept their attention on Loki.

Loki said lightly, "You didn't have to do something so thoughtful."

"I insist." Byleistr broke away from his evaluation of Thor to gesture behind him, and one of the other frost giants handed him a small pile of fur and cloth. He said, "These are for your slave. I know you wouldn't want him parading around dressed in that flowy Aesir nonsense. So I took the liberty of bringing you a gift of proper attire, to celebrate your triumph over the Asgardian princeling."

Thor scowled, his shoulders tightening, but he found himself unable to speak, and remembered fleetingly Loki's absent command: Say nothing until he is gone. So he held himself in resolute silence, staring holes into Byleistr, saying as clearly as he could without words that this princeling in his flowy Aesir nonsense was so far above him as to not even dignify his insults with a response. Byleistr met that gaze for just a few scant heartbeats before looking away, back at Loki.

"I also have food," he said, and another giant stepped forward with a tray that looked as if it were meant to hold a great deal more than the servings of meat, vegetable, and fruit than it did -- enough for two Asgardian-sized men, but perhaps not enough to truly sate a frost giant, Thor thought. "In the event that you wished to stay in your chambers and enjoy your... prize."

Thor stiffened at the indignity of that implication, but Loki said smoothly, "These are lovely gifts, Byleistr. I accept them happily." He stepped across the threshold outside his chambers and reached to take the furs, then turned, holding them out expectantly for Thor to come and take. Thor stubbornly stood his ground, and after a significant pause, Loki added, "You will take these, now, and hold them. Or you will go bare. Either option will suit me."

He had phrased it as a command, and of course Thor could not speak, though he set his jaw again resentfully. But his feet moved forward without his consent, and his arms stretched out to take the clothing from Loki.

Loki turned again to accept the tray, and Thor was close enough then to see him smile, confidentially, at Byleistr, as if they were sharing a secret. The sorcerer said sweetly, "I'm so glad that I needn't worry that there is anything amiss with these offerings. Because I know -- that you know -- that I would not be foolish enough to be caught off-guard by any silly little poisons or traps, and so... of course, no one would bother to try anything that could be traced back to them."

Byleistr's surprise was evidenced in the way he went stiff, breathing suddenly stilled. There was a quiet rumbling behind him, a few of the frost giants flanking him murmuring amongst each other. Byleistr whipped around and silenced them with a glare, but Thor could see the approving smiles and admiring glances slanted at Loki before they fell into ranks.

"So -- thank you so much, Brother," Loki said, sly and low, stepping back inside the door and closing it behind him.

Thor relaxed slowly, rolling his shoulders, but awaited the Jotun's commentary at himself. All Loki said was, "You cut a more impressive figure when you're silent than when you bluster, you know." He didn't seem annoyed by the brief moment of resistance in front of the audience of Byleistr's followers.

"You certainly do make the most of your words," Thor allowed, following him as he headed back into the bedchamber. "I do not understand. Is Byleistr also your brother? Why were you so..."

"Different than with Helblindi?" Loki's lips quirked up, and he lifted a sliver of chilled pear from a dish as he settled down again. "Yes. That is because Helblindi believes that the future king of Jotunheim should be whoever is best for Jotunheim. When Laufey decided I should be the heir, Helblindi accepted that I was the better candidate with grace."

"And Byleistr?"

"Was irritated to find himself another step removed from succession." Loki chuckled, gesturing at the tray. "But that's enough about politics. Today is my day of celebration, as Byleistr so kindly reminded me. Help yourself to breakfast."

Thor tried not to think of the complex exchange between the two: the way that Loki had insinuated so easily that these 'gifts' had been meant to unsettle him, because Byleistr wanted him dead. He tried not to think that the slab of boar's meat that smelled so good in his suddenly-starving senses might be poisoned: that Loki wasn't bothering to check it because he was that confident that Byleistr wouldn't dare to act overtly, but that he might be overconfident.

He tried not to think of the kind of people who would be so ruthless that they would murder their siblings for power.

They say that frost giants are incapable of love, that the winter in their hearts is absolute... And that was only one of many rumors that floated around about the wickedness of the Jotun. That rumor came back to Thor now, its potential meaning darker than ever before.

"I must warn you that you should take care not to let anyone here touch you, other than myself, Helblindi, or Laufey," Loki said, taking another bite of the pear. "That collar will protect you from the cold, but not from withering touch. If someone uses it on you, you will have no defense, and little recourse."

Thor had nearly forgotten about the icy touch that the Jotun could use to deaden the flesh of their opponents, and he looked down at Loki's delicate hands, his bare chest, reflexively.

--He tried not to think about how easy it would have been for Loki to reduce him to a shriveled husk while he mindlessly rutted into his body.

"To answer your question from earlier, we will take breakfast like this," Loki said, calm. "You will get dressed, but I think exploring will have to wait for later. We should probably stay close by, until we hear from Odin King about your stay with us."

Thor caught his breath, remembering: his father had not yet consented to the arrangement. He might still be going home, freed from this wretched collar and its spell of compulsion... He glanced at Loki, eyes dark, and imagined killing him in glorious vengeance.

"You had best hope your arrangement is upheld," he told him.

Loki opened his eyes again, their horrible red not quite so intense that Thor could not make out the amusement crinkling their corners and lids. "Hope?" he echoed. "I am not a dreamer, Odinson. I need not hope. I make sure what I desire is the outcome that results."

Slowly, Thor frowned. For whatever reason, he didn't doubt those words, and he looked away, thinking of the cold desolate reaches of the realm where he would live for the next year.


part 3

It would have been misleading to say that the months that followed his capture were boring, but in any other circumstance, Thor felt the description would be apt. He found himself in the same position he loathed most about Asgardian politics: an ornament, an accessory. The future king, accompanying his father to other courts and into negotiations, so that he could learn about their handling. Then, like now, he was rarely permitted to speak, and little excitement was ever found, and he ended up staring into space and daydreaming violent scenarios while those around him talked.

Only in this case he was not a future king, but a menial guard. He followed Loki to other courts, dressed in fur and primitive leathers like a barbarian, and the eyes of their emissaries flickered to him with speculation while the little frost giant spoke sibilantly of treaties and alliances.

The first few times, he tried to pay attention and remember the details, but as three visits in a month turned into twelve visits in three and then thirty visits in seven, the details fell away from him. It was all he could do to keep awake.

When they spent time in Jotunheim, things were not much improved. They moved from place to place (in fact, Loki switched rooms mere hours after Byleistr came to their door on that first morning) and spoke to everyone, but only ever about politics. Thor gained incidental knowledge about the Jotun -- the sort of thing that they ate; the way that they spent their hours; that they shaved their heads, all but Loki; that if they had women at all, they were rare or well-hidden, for he saw none of them in those seven months -- but he was largely ignored by them, treated as if he were an object and not worth even the effort to sneer at.

The only thing salvaging the whole experience from "boring" was the tension. The fact that never, at any time, could he quite relax: he was always aware of the eyes on him, of the malice or mockery directed his way, the possibility that he might be killed at any moment. Even lying on Loki's bed at night, the Jotun's breathing steady and slow beside him, he sometimes stared up at the ceiling and wondered if tomorrow would be the day that this fragile peace finally broke. He knew better than to think something would not happen before he had the chance to go home to gleaming Asgard.

But, then, there was also Loki himself.

He was interesting. His every word and gesture managed to be both deliberate and casual; he laced his praise with taunting and his taunting with purpose. He made a weapon of submission, as nearly every one of their still-frequent couplings would attest. He was unique in that Thor had never seen another frost giant of his slight stature, and still a mystery, for after seven months Thor had gained little knowledge of his past, since he never spoke of it and the other Jotun were less than interested in sharing with an Aesir.

But Loki was both the sole reprieve from his monotony, and the enforcer of it. There were frequent hunts in Jotunheim, and almost as frequent scuffles between the frost giants and neighboring tribes of giants or even incursions from other realms. Every time the call went out, Thor's blood began to race eagerly, and every time Loki held him back.

"Let me join them!" Thor demanded once when he became too frustrated. "It is a waste to trap me here when I could be fighting for you."

"You Asgardians do love playing at war," Loki mused to himself, poring over some old scroll. "But I will not be the one to explain to Odin King that his precious only child and heir was decapitated in a border squabble with storm giants while under my power."

Storm giants! Thor thought, his hunger for the battle only growing. They were a long-time enemy of Asgard's and he had fought them many times over the centuries. "I eat storm giants as a snack between real banquets," he boasted, throwing back his shoulders. "Send me to fight and I will prove it to you!"

"You will do nothing unless I command it."

"This is ridiculous! I am a warrior!"

"You are a prize. And like any prize, you serve little purpose but decoration." The sorcerer lifted his red gaze, his features set in disinterested lines. "I remind you that we are in a library. Sit still and behave yourself."

Thor snarled, but his legs carried him back to his cold stone chair, and he seated himself again.

He suspected his frustration was all the reason Loki really needed to refuse: the pleasure of denying him something he wanted, forcing him to wrestle with his impatience and resentment. He kept up with his solitary practice when time permitted, as intense as he could manage it, but it was not the same as fighting against a real opponent, and the frost giants that saw him at it watched with veiled interest, but never intervened.

He missed his friends with a deep and enduring ache. Sif would have given him a run for his money if he had so much as tilted his head, only her tongue sharper than her blade, but with an easy good nature that stayed any hurts either might cause. Hogun would have been just as quick to give him a good match, intense and focused and determined, giving no quarter and with only a twitch of his lips to indicate his enjoyment after. It was easy to dismiss Fandral because of his playful, talkative nature and more pacifying tendencies, but he was always quick to rise to the occasion when needed, and he could be a ferocious fighter. Volstagg was no longer in his prime, older than the rest of them, but he was still a force to be reckoned with on the field of battle, and he'd have laughed and cooked them a grand feast to celebrate.

He wanted to see them again. Thor consoled himself with the knowledge that they were safe, and that in only a few more months he would be returned to them.

And in the meantime, he would just have to hope that he could keep his skills honed to the point where they wouldn't all have a good laugh at his expense when he rejoined them.

But the irritating stillness of the first seven months did not last.

They returned after a visit to Svartalfheim -- a land Thor had never thought of as being disconcerting before until he saw Loki and the prince, blue head bent together with violet head, secretive -- and emerged into the frozen whiteness of Laufey's domain. Loki sighed quietly, pulling his fur hood up around his head, murmuring, "Another blizzard. I suppose it's getting to that time of year again."

"Again?" Thor echoed, but they were interrupted.

The cave they emerged from was surrounded by frost giants; they both tensed sharply before Helblindi emerged from the crowd, ducking into a crouch so that he could speak more directly to Loki.

"The palace has been surrounded by Byleistr's men," Helblindi said evenly. "He is making his move, now. A dozen are dead. If you go, you will be killed."

Thor felt his pulse quicken sharply, eager. This time, Loki could not deny him the fight. This time he would have his glorious battle. This time--

"He has waited this long, I thought he would put it off," Loki murmured.

"What of Laufey?" Thor demanded.

Loki gave him an irritated look, and Helblindi said, as if speaking to someone very stupid, "He is well, within the palace. Byleistr has no quarrel with him."

"--Does he not seek to overthrow the king?"

That was the end of Loki's patience, and he snapped, "Ignore him, he has nothing to contribute. Be silent, Asgardian."

Thor's lips curled back in agitation, but he was unable to speak, and they continued quickly, Loki asking for positions, resources, strategic knowledge that would benefit him. He gave clear, concise orders, and Helblindi's companions dispersed at his commands, as if they were under compulsions of their own. There was no question of whom they answered to, even though Helblindi was the one they had followed here.

Finally it was just the three of them, and Loki said, "Did he present no message for me?"

Helblindi shifted uncomfortably, and finally said, "I do not like it."

Loki stepped forward, turning his head up; he did not reach out to touch his brother, but he was close enough to do so, building an intimacy with their closeness. His voice was soft, scarcely carrying to Thor's ear: "Have faith in me. You know that I have been planning for this for many years, and that Byleistr has not the wit to overcome me. I told you he would soon make his move months ago. But we both know that he left a message to tell me what it was he wanted. What was it?"

The giant paused a moment longer. "He commanded you to come to the palace alone, and to turn over your thrall to him. Then he will consider permitting you to live."

So coming with me is the same as coming alone? Thor thought, irritably, but he was alive with adrenaline, ready and waiting for Loki's decision. This time he was even a part of the negotiations; Loki would have to let him participate.

"Clever," Loki allowed, tilting his head. "He seeks to prove legitimacy with the other realms by wielding my prize himself."

"He will kill you either way," Helblindi said.

"Of course he will. He'd be a fool not to."

Helblindi pressed, "Our best strategy is to seek out allies from the other clans. He may keep the palace for some weeks, it will do us no harm. We must call upon our allies to outnumber and outpower his force."

Loki shook his head. "They will not intervene as long as Laufey remains unharmed and awaits the outcome. Byleistr has sealed us off from the seat of power; we will find little help unless we have proven that we can come back from this setback with a victory."

"Then what do we do?"

"You will go to Angrboda and rally those of my supporters who remain. When the scouts return, prepare yourself for an assault on the palace as you deem best." Loki lifted a hand and gestured, beckoning Thor to his side. "We will give him what he wants, I think."

"Even though it means walking into his trap?"

Loki smiled, saying only, "As I told you, he cannot outwit me."

Helblindi shook his head, rearing up again to his full height, casting a long shadow over them both. "I do not understand you, Brother, but I trust that you think it best. I will do as you say."

Thor knew better than to think that Loki would turn him over so easily, although he couldn't help a brief curiosity, wondering what it would be like to be in the charge of another frost giant, if Byleistr would be less infuriating or more lenient. But he had little faith in that, and no desire to find out for himself. At the end of the day, as maddening as he might be, Loki had bested him and earned his service; Byleistr was a thief and a coward.

They padded through the icy waste, white fur cloaks shielding them. Loki told him when they were some distance from the caves, "You may speak, but do not address anyone other than myself. I will not have you undermining my efforts."

Immediately, Thor demanded, "Tell me what is happening here."

Loki sighed. "Byleistr is attempting to earn esteem and be named heir. His followers are those who have nothing to lose, and he has promised them status and prestige when he has power. Laufey is waiting to see which of us will win, because the victor will make the best heir, and -- probably the other will be dead."

"He cares for you so little that he would just watch you kill one another?" Thor asked, feeling unease flickering in him. He had more than once observed that the frost giants seemed to hardly care for even their own kin and family, but at the very least, Laufey had always seemed enamored and proud of his oldest. To be willing to watch his sons die fighting each other... was a heartless act.

"Think before you speak your judgments, son of Odin," Loki said, glancing to the side with luminous red eyes lidded. "The same traits that would have him see me die are what keep you alive."

Thor pressed his lips tightly shut, irritated but seeing the point of that. Then he said, "What is your strategy? What do we do after we approach?"

"No strategy," Loki answered lightly. "We will be taken to Byleistr when we are sighted, and we will talk with him."

"--About what?" Thor demanded. He was a fair tactician on the field of battle, but he had come to recognize Loki's agile mind was better-suited to grand strategies, diplomacy and negotiation. Perhaps that was why he could think of no reason why chatting with a frost giant who meant them only harm would be to their advantage. Perhaps he was overlooking something that Loki had seen.

Loki shrugged, and a smile played at his lips. "Why does it have to be about anything in particular?" he asked. "About what is not important."

Thor gave up.

It was not long before the tall spires of the ruined palace came into view. Thor noticed some signs of the scouts that Loki had allegedly sent out to investigate Byleistr's men, and Byleistr's men themselves, but he was still not expert enough to see them until they were upon him, looming abruptly at his back.

Thor spun around when he noticed, Loki turning more sedately; there was one before them, and at least seven lurking behind him in the snowy hills. The one who stood before them paused before saying, his voice like gravel, "Our orders are to subdue you both."

The fight, Thor thought, tensing eagerly, but Loki said, "We will come peaceably."

The Jotun paused, a visible trace of uncertainty on his broad, gaunt features. He said slowly, "Our orders..."

"Byleistr assumed I would need convincing. He was wrong." Loki stepped closer, holding out a hand, palm up. Inviting. "If I cooperate, you will not have to resort to anything so violent, Hrothgar."

He spoke coaxingly, as if appealing to something buried in the frost giant's heart; and it seemed to be working, making him falter, glance back behind him at the others. Thor suddenly wondered if this Jotun was one of Loki's suitors, one that he had taken to his bed, and turned a more thoughtful eye on him, measuring.

After another long beat, Hrothgar said again, "After you were subdued, we were to shackle you."

"Then shackle me." Loki's outstretched hand did not move.

Thor bristled, growling under his breath at the slight frost giant, "You will submit yourself to this? With no strategy, you would also sacrifice your freedom? How, then, do you expect to escape alive?"

The black cores of those red, red eyes flickered back to him. "Behave."

Slowly the other frost giants descended, and they bound Loki's hands in heavy iron manacles behind his back. Thor could see how startled they were, exchanging curious glances amongst themselves. It was clear that they did not understand Loki any better than Thor did, and just as clear that none of them wanted to hurt him. The suspicion of Hrothgar slowly faded away as Thor observed the others sharing his reluctance.

Loki didn't prey upon Hrothgar's particular attachment to him. He preyed upon all of them: the way the Jotun seemed fascinated by him. He had far more powerful men -- men who possessed both physical power and the power of influence -- wrapped around his fingers. Laufey was only one of many in that quarter. Whenever Loki was around his own people, they were riveted to him.

"You are always the center of attention," Thor had observed quietly on one evening.

Loki then looked up, red eyes aglow with curiosity, and took a quick glance around. Almost fully half the frost giants in the great hall were watching him at any given point in time, with interest or fondness. It was as if they wanted to see what he would do, or were helplessly captivated by how different he was.

"Are you implying that this is somehow not as it should be?" Loki returned, baring white teeth in a grin.

Thor had chuckled, shaking his head. "And they call me vain," he said.

"Ridiculous," Loki had said lightly. "You're an egotistical, short-tempered, self-absorbed child... but you are not vain!"

His tactic seemed effective, whatever the cause. The line of warriors began to lead him away, only one of them bothering to reach out to shove Thor after them. Thor stiffened at the abrasive gesture, but he went along quietly anyway. Whatever else, he was obligated to see this through.

Their escort did not take them into the tall spires of the ruined palace; as Helblindi had indicated, they seemed to have the majority of their force stationed outside. Byleistr was in an area that once seemed to have been a courtyard, and he rose as they approached, a smug smile on his features. Most of the guards dissipated, leaving only Hrothgar behind them.

"So now it comes back to the way it should be," he said, slow and lingering; savoring his victory. "The runt in chains, kneeling before his betters."

As if that had been a command, Hrothgar shoved Loki, sending the slighter man stumbling onto his knees. Loki shook his head, rattled for a heartbeat, and said with fine sarcasm, "My... betters. We must have different definitions of the term."

Byleistr laughed, the sound harsh. He asked Hrothgar, "The thrall?"

"I heard Loki command him to behave himself when he submitted."

That answer seemed to content Byleistr, who stepped forward, looming ominously tall over Loki's half-bent form. He sneered, "Laufey's clever son. Whose wit makes him equal to real warriors. But here you are, bound helpless, and I have taken care to seal this courtyard so that you cannot use your magic!"

Thor's stomach knotted. That was it, Loki's last trump card. Perhaps he had no plan at all; perhaps he genuinely intended to turn Thor over and allow himself to be killed, if not taken captive. Or perhaps his plan was to lose face and status, for some reason.

"Where is that wit of yours now, little big brother?"

Loki said dryly, "It is sweet that you think that a grand stroke of genius, rather than an obvious precaution, considering my gifts."

Byleistr made a noise, discontent, and circled him, slowly. "You speak so proudly. I remember you as a stripling -- moreso than you still are, that is. When you still wore rags and clambered through every crack and crevice, hunting for scraps left behind by true Jotun like a scavenger." His gravelly voice turned vicious, hissing, "You were a mistake! That wretch Angrboda should have left you on that cliff to die as Father intended!"

The words shocked Thor as clearly as a slap to the face; he straightened, darting a glance at Loki, but the slim Jotun did not waver in his cool stare straight at Byleistr. "And yet, Father changed his mind when I proved my worth to him. That's why I am heir, and you are... not," Loki said, simple and soft.

Abandoned by his own sire -- rescued and raised by another -- and then Thor remembered the odd bitterness that had surfaced from time to time, the one that spoke of struggle and grief. How many years had Loki spent living on borrowed time, fighting for everything that he now carried with such confidence?

"Your clothes may be of better quality, and you may strut through our halls as if you belong among our greatest hunters and warriors," Byleistr snapped, "but you will always be that filthy runt who was left to die."

"Maybe so," Loki murmured. "But at least I won't be the perfectly able son who was always too inept to win Laufey's favor."

Byleistr snarled, and Thor looked between them again, wondering if this was the plan, to incite Byleistr somehow, and then -- what?

"You are a poorer hunter than Helblindi. You could never best him, and all Jotunheim knew it," Loki said, his voice still low, but his gaze was intense, the luminous red of his eyes unrelenting. "And as much as you'd like to see me dead, there are wolves dead of cold who are cleverer than you. You really think that you could ever... ever outmaneuver me, Byleistr?"

"Impudent filth!" Byleistr howled, drawing a hand high above him to strike Loki. In a split second he brought it crashing down again, only to have his fist caught in Thor's hand.

There was a beat of silence, the wind screaming above them past the enclosed courtyard, before Thor was even aware of moving. His eyes widened, as did Byleistr's. Loki was still kneeling implacably with hands bound behind his back, watching them, unhesitating.

"Get out of my way!" the frost giant snapped when he had recovered, lashing out with his other hand.

Thor ducked out of the way and looked down at his hands, but then Byleistr moved to hit Loki again, and then he was lunging between them, grappling with the frost giant physically to restrain his powerful arms.

"What is wrong with you!" Byleistr hissed. "You owe no loyalty to him!"

He could not explain it, and his attention slipped back to Loki, unmoved, and Hrothgar, still hovering above him, but watching with his eyes narrowed and speculative. Loki's eyes had shifted from Byleistr to Thor, watching him as if his brother had ceased being important at all.

Then he remembered: "You will take no action to harm me, nor allow any harm to come to me." He couldn't allow Byleistr to strike him, the compulsion propelling him to block the blows.

And he remembered... "You will not harm my father, nor my brother Helblindi, while you are here."

Byleistr had not been a part of that command.

"You planned this," Thor said, low, keeping Byleistr tight in his grasp. The giant growled, spinning with his body tensed, lifting Thor bodily from the ground, and Thor broke away without objection, hitting the ground in a controlled roll and coming back up to his feet. This time Byleistr's attention stayed on him, recognizing that he must be handled before Loki could be punished.

"What are you talking about?" Byleistr demanded, thinking the statement meant for him.

Thor's glance flickered to Loki, who hadn't moved, and seemed to have no intention to reply. But his lips were curled up in a smile.

Byleistr's red eyes followed Thor's, and he scowled darkly. He demanded of Hrothgar with a sharp gesture, "What are you waiting for? Make him command the thrall! He will do it to save his precious skin!"

Hrothgar said nothing, and did not move: waiting, Thor realized, like Laufey was waiting. He wanted to see how this would play out, rather than intervene. He wanted to see who would come out victorious.

Thor said, slow, "The day I arrived, you commanded me that at no point would I allow you to be hurt. And you placed Helblindi and Laufey under your protection, but not Byleistr. You -- intended for it to come to this. You wanted me to kill him."

It was not the only explanation; it could just have been an oversight, or a precaution. But Thor knew it in his bones, all of it fitting together so perfectly, rightly. Long months spent holding him from combat, from excitement, kept in a cage like a captive lion. Loki had meant to drive him half-mad with it, so that when the opportunity presented itself he would be so straining at the bit that he would lash out viciously the moment the reins slipped from his master's hand.

"Yes," Loki purred.

He could kill Byleistr. Thor's breath quickened, his body tensing. He could not summon Mjolnir, so it would have to be with his bare hands. Byleistr had many advantages, taller, savage, and even now forming a long blade of ice over one arm.

"I want you to say it," Thor told him, his voice already thick. "I do not care to be manipulated into doing your bidding. I will not be a pawn in your game. If you want me to do something -- give me the command."

He was focused on Byleistr, the way that he roared and charged forward, leaping into the air with the ice-blade drawn high. So he could not have said what Loki's reaction was to his stance. But he still heard the words, as clear as a bell:

"Kill him!"

A red haze descended over Thor's vision, and he bellowed once, ringing out in the still winter air as months of restrained aggression, coiled in his arms, in his legs, suddenly snapped into wild, savage motion.

He had little memory of what followed: the sickening crunch of flesh and bone, shrieking pain. When the haze cleared again he found that it was utterly, disappointingly over, and that he sat astraddle the pulped remains of Loki's brother, panting and looking down at his hands and thinking numbly, It always surprises me that their blood is as red as ours, and wondering if any of it was his.

He didn't feel injured. He felt alive. He had entered into a berserker trance, one that he had experienced a scant handful of times in centuries of battle, and now that it was gone he was only more eager for the kill he had barely had the presence of mind to enjoy.

Thor looked up, breathing hard, and found Loki standing beside him, his arms still bound behind his back. The frost giant was looking down at Byleistr's body with satisfaction, lips curved up and red eyes darkened to crimson.

"Where -- is Hrothgar?" Thor rasped, dimly skimming his hands through the snow and rubbing them to clean them of blood as he rose to his feet.

"Gone to tell the others what has happened," Loki said. "He will not return, and the blockade of the palace will likely break apart. If they are wise, they will scatter before my followers arrive and end them."

He could not regain his breath, the air panting from his lungs in short, hot bursts. Thor looked at Loki, still simmering with restless energy.

Loki could not have missed it, but all he said was a soft, "Break me loose."

Thor stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Loki's slim body, finding his wrists with blood-stained hands. The blue skin was as cool as ever to the touch, but Thor felt his every breath, the life that thrummed through his body, strong and unfaltering. It throbbed into his cock with almost violent intensity, leaving him hard in only a heartbeat, and he gripped the chains and snapped them apart while daydreaming of throwing the Jotun down on the snowy cobblestones next to the corpse and plowing into his body as if to break him, letting him fully know what he had wrought.

When he made reluctantly to withdraw his arms, Loki caught his wrists lightly.

"Up against the wall," he murmured. "Hard. Rough." And then Loki's hand slipped up, fisting in Thor's hair, not gentle. "Now."

His skin prickled with response, and then Thor's arms snapped back around him, lifting the thinner man off the ground and crushing him close in a bruising kiss, which Loki returned breathlessly. Thor started to move, blindly navigating them back to the towering stone wall surrounding the palace; Loki's legs coiled around him, channeling a barely-contained energy into his mouth, every bit as demanding as Thor. He gasped into Thor's mouth as his back hit the wall, but the leverage was all that Loki needed to start pulling at the leather straps and furs of his clothing.

Thor wasted even less time, burying his head in the crook of Loki's neck, and lowering his hands to cup his ass, squeezing roughly and then curving up over his thigh to find his stiffened cock through the heavy leather and wool of his loincloth. Loki groaned, and Thor rasped, "You enjoyed that."

Somewhere under the surface it agitated him, the thought that Loki had been turned on by his brother's murder; an outrageous and horrifying concept, or it should had been, would have been if he had been able to think of anything at all but his own desire to rut into his body.

Loki countered, thick, "I enjoyed -- you. Watching you fight like a whirlwind, such power and such ferocity, and mine -- to command..."

Thor kissed him again, claiming the mouth that spoke such ridiculous words, and Loki's fingers curled against his neck. The Jotun's body rolled lithely forward, rubbing himself against Thor's bare chest and grinding his cock into his stomach. Thor growled, insensate, and bit his tongue.

His pulse was beating so fast, his thoughts coming scattered, when they came at all. He pulled roughly at the loincloth, wanting to get beneath it, ignoring Loki's cock now and going deeper between his legs, finding his tight hole and pushing in, first with one finger, and then two, spreading them to stretch him out. They were only lingeringly wet from the snow he had used to wash off the blood, and Loki made a ragged sound, pulling away to lean against the building and resting his head back against its smooth stone. But he remained open and pliant, tilting his hips into the quick, cursory stretching.

Or Thor had meant it to be quick and cursory. He found his fingers lingering, working in and out of Loki's body with care, stroking him inside. He tensed, impatient, but his hand continued its slow work, and Thor's eyes narrowed, recognizing the compulsion at work.

"Take no action to harm me."

Thor turned his frustration into a biting, sucking kiss against the blue skin at Loki's neck, raking the captive flesh with his teeth and tenderizing it until Loki was groaning, curling against him. He ground their hips together, letting the sorcerer feel his hunger rubbing against his own, what he would have once Thor could be content with his readiness.

Loki bucked, rocking into the next thrust, into the curve of Thor's fingers, and he swallowed tremblingly under Thor's mouth. He snapped, "That's enough! I said now and I meant that I want it now!"

Grim satisfaction flooded his body, pounding between his legs; that was it, what he'd been waiting for. With that impatient demand his body was no longer held back by the long-standing compulsion, and he pulled his fingers out. One last scraping bite over the darkening mark on Loki's neck, and brought himself to that tight ring of muscle. He waited no longer, pushing in with a steady thrust, pressing in with a single unrelenting shove of his hips.

He was so perfectly yielding, and so tight inside that it stole Thor's breath, even as lost to his passions as he was. Thor's hands held the slim Jotun's thighs in a bruising grip, and he drew out, thrust in again.

Loki arched up off the wall, his face tense with focus and breathing in desperate pants. It would have been easy to make the mistake of thinking he was in pain, but his cock was still unflaggingly hard between them. The sight of it sent the raw heat in Thor's blood ever higher.

"What do I have to do -- to make you not love this?" Thor growled, his tone roughened with his passion, darker than he meant for the playful question to be. And he did not care. He gave no quarter, rutting into Loki with a fierce rhythm, assaulting his willing body with the same intensity he would have brought to the fight, if he'd been thinking through it.

"You thought -- this could do it?" Loki returned between breaths, his voice choked with laughter. "I like it -- rough as much as any warrior -- Odinson. And if you think -- your manhood is so big I cannot take it without delicacy -- you are quite wrong."

Thor's lips curled back, feeling that jibe even as borderline wild as he was, and he drew his hips back, fingers biting into the sorcerer's flesh. Loki made a sound of loss as Thor slipped from inside his body, and Thor could see irritation in his features as he lowered those slim blue legs to the ground. He smirked. Loki was not quite so dismissive as he would pretend.

He shoved the other man around against the wall and tilted his hips, forcing him face-first against the stone. Then he lined himself up, pressing himself to Loki's back, and pushed in again, quick and hard.

This position was better; he could hear Loki's groan so much more clearly, feel the arch of his spine against Thor's chest and the way each thrust rocked through his slighter frame. Every movement he could feel the ring of muscle squeezing his length, the walls of that tight passage stroking him sweetly, and Thor felt like he must be losing his mind as he picked up the pace, pistoning in and in and in.

"Yes, haah, just like that!" Loki moaned, hitching his hips back, wanton. "Give me -- more."

The words made Thor feel like his vision was turning red, and he groaned tightly himself, his pace turning rougher, more demanding. He shifted his hands on Loki's hips, finding the ridges curving over his skin and rubbing them. When he felt Loki shudder, his hips bucking eagerly into Thor's cock, he found another line scoring the Jotun's shoulder, and he fastened his mouth on it in the same moment he scraped fingernails over the ones at his hips.

And then Loki was coming, gasping as his body stiffened, and Thor responded with primal elation, slamming into his ass again and again. He imagined the firm blue skin darkening with the rhythm of his passion, and he thought senselessly Yes and shoved in one last time, spilling deep into Loki's slack body.

They were both still, then; Loki sagged against the stone wall, and Thor buried inside him, leaning against his back. They panted for breath unsteadily. It had been fast and rough, just as Loki had wanted it, demanded it, and Thor felt finally that the buzz of his adrenaline had left him, sated and victorious.

As his breathing started to even out, he dimly heard Loki laugh again, voice soft even thickened by his fading urgency.

"Very... nice."

Thor echoed the chuckle, turning to press his lips into Loki's shoulder, nuzzling the bruise he had left there. "You all but demanded it. I should hope you approve."

"Then I shall say instead -- you lived up to all my expectations." Loki sighed, leisurely and contented.

Although there was nothing of smugness or triumph in his words, no dark undertone, the comment still brought Thor's mind back to the situation, attention shifting to their surroundings: Byleistr's body on the stone, the whistling of the wind, the distant sound of voices shouting.

"Were you planning this from the beginning?" Thor asked, thickly. He moved to slide back, to disentangle them and let Loki stand alone on his own sandaled feet. "Was that true?"

Loki made a soft grunt as he pulled out, but he was quick to collect himself, stepping away and brushing at his skin, adjusting his loincloth so that he was presentable. "It is true," he said, simply. "I went to such lengths to have you, naturally I had plans for you."

Thor slowly straightened his own clothing, struggling between admiration and frustration. "Your own brother."

"Oh, please. Perhaps your people have such qualms, but in Jotunheim, we have only one: how useful the other person is." Loki tossed his hair back and turned, his expression aloof, untouched as if he did not still bear the marks of Thor's passion on his body. "Laufey and Helblindi support me because I am good for Jotunheim and I will make a good king to our people. Laufey adores me -- as many do -- for being unique and different and interesting. This makes him easily manipulated, and I have no need of his throne just yet, so he is useful to me for now. I permit Helblindi to stay by my side instead of killing him for his claim to Laufey's throne because he is a passable leader and serves me well as a field officer to my supporters. We all allow you to live because you are useful. If any of that stopped being so... Then we would fall upon one another."

The words were striking, cool and impersonal and callous. They were utterly dissimilar to existence in Asgard: where even if others were not considered useful, their right to live was not called into question.

Not for the first time, Thor missed home.

"What of Angrboda?" he said, drawing himself tall. Loki stiffened, red eyes darting up to his face. Thor clarified, "The frost giant who rescued you, when you were left to die."

Loki's stillness surprised him, the tension in his jaw, and then he said, softly, "You make a fool of yourself, speaking of him."

Thor pressed, "If he had been thinking only of how you could be of use to him, as you doubtless think Laufey was when he abandoned you, would you not be dead?"

The slight Jotun prince sighed, and then turned to face him. "I am only going to say this to you once, because you are irritating when you think yourself right. If Byleistr had never opened his fool mouth and given you just enough information to let you think you could be, I would not say it at all."

Thor paused, awaiting his answer, and folding his arms challengingly over his chest.

"I was left to die by my father because I was small and, he imagined, useless. It was his mistake, and Angrboda's fortune. Angrboda saw the abandoned firstborn son of the king and thought that here was his opportunity to gain status. He raised me until I was old enough to fend for myself, and then he told me to do exactly that, because he would not have me being a burden on him," Loki said, his voice perfectly even. "So I scrounged up my own food, taught myself to read, and learned of magic myself. Angrboda is the only one who gave me a chance, but do not fool yourself into thinking that it is for anything but his own gain. He knows that I owe him a debt I can never repay, long after I proved to Laufey and the others that my size is no impediment to my ability -- because he was the one who gave me the chance to prove it."

Thor breathed unsteadily out, murmuring, "Even your adopted father..." and wondered if that was why he had never seen this Angrboda that Loki spoke of so intensely; if the man was resting on his laurels now, secure in the knowledge that he had been the only one to see worth in the runt who would someday be king of all of them.

Loki laughed. "You still don't understand, do you? Jotun do not have fathers. We have genetic relations, with whom we have no sentimental attachment! The only thing Laufey's parentage means is that I should not mate with him." And he grinned, toothy and wide. "Angrboda is no genetic match with me, and I have mated with him... several times."

He could imagine what Loki must have read into his expression then. The truth was that he didn't understand, and Loki's so-smug words only filled him with more horror, more confusion and disgust.

The Jotun were savage monsters. He had always known that; it had been whispered in the streets, falling more indirectly from Odin's unthinking lips, or in historical songs and poems of war against the treacherous beasts. He had never really thought of them having families, or of being people at all; in a way, this had been educational in that. To an extent, he had started thinking of them, or at least of Loki, as... people.

But what manner of people felt no attachment to family, or even those who raised them?

"Now," Loki finished, calmly, "you will never speak of Angrboda again."

And with Thor's lips thoroughly sealed on that matter, he turned on his heel, to head into his castle and secure his victory.

He did not permit Thor to fight again.


part 4

After that, Thor counted the days. It was a futile gesture, since he had long ago lost track of how much time he had spent in Jotunheim and how much he had left in his interminable punishment to atone for falling victim to Loki's machinations. But it was something to do, some meaningless way of expressing his yearning. The unthinking acceptance that had allowed him to live among the frost giants and serve at Loki's command without resentment had been shattered.

He pined for home, for his friends and his family and his familiar palace; for bright sunshine and warm days and the lush greenery of Asgard.

But it still came as a surprise when -- ninety-two days after Byleistr's coup -- he was drifting aimlessly through the library while Loki read, and Helblindi settled down cross-legged on the floor beside his brother's chair, and asked him, "Are you prepared for tomorrow?"

And Loki said, "Of course I am," fondly. "Odin King sent a whole host of instructions for his son's return that I have no intention of following. I have already made plans of my own."

"What is this about my father?" Thor demanded, stepping out from between the stacks of the Jotunheim ruin's decrepit library.

Helblindi looked up at him, red eyes impassive. "We are discussing your departure, Asgardian."

It struck Thor all of a sudden, the prospect that it was almost over, he was almost home. It felt like his blood was boiling, his body reacting without conscious thought; he wanted to throw himself into his practice or a fight or a pit of wolves to wrestle. He stepped forward, volume rising. "When?"

"Tomorrow, inattentive fool, tomorrow." Loki unrolled the parchment in his hands further, and added, "Keep your voice down. I have no desire to be yelled at."

Tomorrow. In a day's time, he would be home. Thor held his breath, paralyzed. He would see Volstagg, and Hogun, and Fandral. Sif. He would be able to hold his mother again, safe in her loving embrace, and talk to his father, who would place a hand on his shoulder in the wordless, somewhat awkward way he had that was the only manner in which he knew how to convey his reassurance that all would be well.

He would be free of his leash, able to ride all day if he felt like it, visit Alfheim and Vanaheim and explore to his heart's content, spend his evenings in taverns and his mornings in practice with the finest warriors of the realms.

Home!

"What-- what did my father say?" Thor made himself ask, tamping down on his eagerness to escape this place and its horrible people.

"It is not important."

"It is!" Thor insisted, more strident again.

Loki's gaze flickered up to him, and then his lips curled into a smug smile. "Ah, I see. You do not care for his instructions. You want to know if he seemed angry, or disappointed, or protective, or eager. You want to know how he will welcome you home."

Thor scowled a tiny bit to be so evaluated, but he could not say that it was untrue. In his mind, that reassuring shoulderclasp was what he imagined, and it was all that he asked; but in truth, he knew that his father had every reason to be upset with him for the foolish, disobedient actions that could have resulted in war and actually had resulted in the predicament he had found himself in for the last year.

Loki toyed with the scroll more, and said sweetly, "It seems inconvenient to be so chained by the approval of one's family. Do you agree, Helblindi?"

This again; the reminder that Jotun were callous monsters who cared nothing for their family other than how they could use them. Thor despised that talk, and he despised that Loki kept bringing it up, apparently solely to make him uncomfortable, for he seemed to have no intent of ever discussing it beyond the reminder. But his gaze flickered to Loki's brother, in spite of himself.

"I do not understand it," Helblindi confessed, his attention still on Loki. "What purpose does such attachment serve? Why allow emotion to chain yourself to a genetic relation?"

"They live such a long time, and have few children; in a thousand years, a mated Aesir pair might conceive only once. Perhaps it is a result of their low fertility that they form such tight bonds with the family they do have. If they cast out every useless member of their society, they would not be able to breed fast enough to replace them."

"Ah, I see. You are ever wise, Brother."

Thor gritted, "That is quite enough of your mockery," even though it was evident that Helblindi did not believe they were engaging in any. "If you do not wish to tell me, then say so and return to your reading."

Loki smiled at him, ruby eyes lidded, and did in fact bring his attention back to his scroll.

It was difficult for him to analyze Loki's actions; Loki was always something of a cipher to him, his scheming carefully shielded from careless view. For the life of him Thor could not imagine why Loki would want to alienate him by pursuing the topic that had estranged them these last few weeks, especially when he was so close to his freedom. Did he want Thor to return to Asgard thinking of his people as little more than treacherous beasts, irredeemable on a deep, blood level? Was he so confident in his superiority that even now, he did not concern himself with the opinion that his captive would take back with him once released from bondage?

He supposed that on some level, he had expected that when his freedom loomed on the horizon, Loki's behavior would change. Perhaps he thought the sorcerer would treat him more kindly, or like an equal. But his behavior was so unchanged, his demeanor so cool, that Thor had not even known that time was approaching.

Though he was not entirely wrong.

That night Loki brushed into his chambers, stretching already. Thor could not help the thoughts that flickered over his mind, but was startled to find them echoed aloud as the frost giant observed, "This will be our last night together."

Thor's gaze found Loki's, trying to measure the purpose of that comment. "So it will be."

Loki smiled, and he lifted hands slowly brushing the fur shrug from his shoulders, beginning to reach for the clasps of his metal coverings. "I would like to make it -- memorable. What do you think?"

"I... think that would depend on how," Thor returned, warily. He had no expectations: it would not have surprised him if Loki wanted to do something outrageous to fully ruin what bond they had managed to form, and it would not have surprised him if Loki truly wanted to do something sweet and pleasurable that would soothe all his ruffled feathers from the last weeks of strained tension. Either option would be manipulative, cunning, and pre-planned, as much as anything he had ever done.

Loki chuckled. "You need have no fear, Odinson. I would never suggest taking your manly virtue."

Thor flushed, irritable. "I think I would prefer sleeping out in the hall, if it's all the same to you."

"It is not." Loki stepped closer, his lean blue form covered in nothing but his heavy leather loincloth now, and he placed the palm of his hand flat on Thor's chest. "Will you not sit down on the bed?"

The phrasing was obviously, very specifically avoiding turning it into a command. Even if Thor would be freed tomorrow, for now he was still compelled to obey Loki's direct orders, but he had made it a request.

It was reassuring. After a beat, Thor stepped back, seating himself on the edge of the platform strewn with Loki's bedfurs and pillows. And Loki stepped up, smooth, flowing, with a roll of his hip; like a dancer, sensual. Thor felt his heartbeat quicken, but he found it difficult to believe that the effort was sincere.

A distraction? A decoy? Just cruelty?

Still, Loki eased down onto his knees on the floor, hands on Thor's legs guiding them apart so that he could kneel between them, and then his touch crept -- higher, sliding up toward his inner thigh. "In all this time," he murmured, "I have made you do many things for my pleasure. And I have invited you to take your pleasure in them as well. But I have never attended to you."

...Sincere? Thor wet his lips, trying to control what little of his reaction he could, and then said, his voice slightly thickened, "You made clear from the start that you have no interest in -- working for your pleasure, I believe were your words."

"No intention to do so," Loki corrected. "I am fully capable of reciprocating, and--" A flickered glance down at Thor's loincloth, partially shielding the way his cock thickened with interest as he spoke. "--wanting to."

Oh, his head was starting to swim. No matter how he told himself that this was almost certainly further cunning (had Loki himself not said it, that he had everything planned out?) Thor had not received such attention in a year now, and it was making him reckless (had Loki not already done this same thing, depriving him of combat until the moment Loki needed him to want it most?).

"You would want to?" he asked, husky.

"Oh, I do," Loki said, his rough, cool hands slipping over Thor's legs to find the fastenings of the loincloth. "I enjoy being pampered, but even I sometimes want to touch... and taste..."

Countless times he'd thought about Loki's mouth -- ever since that first mocking promise, They call me Silvertongue, you know.... Often he'd imagined Loki's lips wrapped around him, sometimes even fantasizing about forcing him down, in revenge for all the times he had done it for Loki without choice in the matter. It was maddening to actually have that promise so close, literally close enough now that Loki's breath washed over his cock when the loincloth fell away.

"Tonight I want to show you," Loki said, still hovering without sinking in, "just -- how good I can be when I decide to work for my pleasure."

Thor wondered, dimly, if his jests about Loki being lazy this last year had taken their toll after all, if that was the reason for all of this. But then Loki's lips parted and he descended onto Thor's half-hard cock, taking it into the cavern of his mouth, and then he thought about nothing at all.

It had been a year since anyone had touched him like this, and Loki's lips were soft, his mouth wet, and he fitted himself perfectly to Thor's flesh, enclosing him tightly and caressing his length as he slid down, then back up. The throb of eager heat that surged through Thor was almost embarrassingly intense, curling his fingers against the furs.

The Jotun was completely focused on his task, and it was obvious from the rapt fixation in his face, the idle stroking of his fingers over the skin beneath them. He rubbed the shaft with his tongue, little flickers of the tip teasing the vein, and then swirling around the thick head of Thor's cock. He lingered, suckling at the head, his red gaze flickering up briefly to meet Thor's blue, drawing sweetly at his cock before sinking down again.

It was a lot of sensation, rushing through him all at once after so long with no touch but his own and the simple pleasure of being permitted to use Loki's body. After just a few minutes Thor found himself panting, leaning back heavily on his hands and struggling against the urge to push his hips forward, working more of his length into that clever mouth. He was absolutely not going to put up a poor showing and spill his seed so easily when Loki was finally indulging him. No, he was going to make Loki work for it, just -- like he'd promised.

Easier decided than done, of course. Loki tended to him willingly, with every semblance of enthusiasm, and he was so beautiful in a way that no longer felt foreign and alien to Thor, after months in the company of the Jotun. Watching him turn such devout attention to pleasing him, worshipping his cock...

"You look so good like that," he said, husky, unthinking; and then he tried to turn it around, make it a more crude thought, adding, "Taking my cock like you have been starving for it."

Loki's eyes lidded, and Thor imagined that he saw what was likely amusement in his features. But instead of pulling back to retort, he simply skimmed his teeth along the underside of Thor's shaft in a way that wrenched a groan from him, and then drew up wetly to twist his tongue in the slit at the tip of his cock. It made his vision dim, blood throbbing so hotly he almost spilled right there, and without his conscious permission his hand shot up, tangling tight in Loki's hair, half warning and half holding him back.

There was a frozen moment then, thankfully pulling him back from the edge, while he expected that to end it -- for his reflexive response to be all the excuse Loki needed to punish him by leaving him wanting. But though Loki's eyes were intent on his face, he did not move, remaining very still to keep Thor's hand from yanking at his scalp. He did not release his lips around the other man's cock, did not dig his own fingers punishingly into Thor's thigh, made no indication that he would speak to give a cold command. He gave no indication he was upset.

It felt more than accepting. It felt... submissive. Yielding to Thor's strength on a primal, animal level: the stillness of a beast pinned by its mate.

And that heated Thor more than anything. He ran a tongue over his lips, and pushed forward with his hips a little, not releasing his grip on Loki's hair, pushing his cock deeper into the Jotun sorcerer's mouth. Loki's eyes fluttered, blue lidding the red for a heartbeat, and a tension seemed to ease out of him. His lips curled around Thor's shaft, but his tongue, his mouth seemed slack, accepting Thor's cock and surrounding it with warmth and wet, letting Thor -- use him.

Norns, it was almost too much. If Thor had been capable of thought, he might have wondered if this was some ploy, wondered why. Or perhaps he would have thought that for all his control and his command and his confidence Loki still yearned to be dominated by another; Thor had known such lovers before, titans in public and thralls in the bedroom.

But the offering robbed him of thought, of breath. He used his hold on Loki's raven hair to urge his head down, to pull him off, keeping it slow, tentative, feeling out Loki's reaction to it. Loki shifted only slightly, applying a gentle suction to Thor's cock, stroking his length with his tongue. One hand slipped lingeringly over his thigh, under his loincloth, to fix around Loki's own arousal.

The idea of Loki stroking himself wantonly while allowing Thor to rut in and out of his maddening mouth was more than he could bear. Thor groaned through his teeth, dragging Loki closer and rocking in, his pace becoming quick and demanding. If Loki enjoyed having his mouth used so, then Thor would use it well. And still he was willing, even encouraging, lashing Thor's cock with his tongue and suckling when he could while Thor shoved in, in, in, as deep and as fast as he could go without choking the slighter man...

And then in one sharp gesture Loki dislodged his hand, rearing back on his haunches and drawing off of Thor's throbbing arousal. Dizzy with the closeness of his climax and disoriented from the sudden loss of sensation, Thor blinked, abruptly regretting that he had not held tighter, or been more wary for Loki to change his mind.

He hadn't, though. Loki pressed him back on the dais, saying with a breathless voice, "Not like that."

"Why not?" Thor returned, raggedly. That had seemed perfectly good to him, although he liked the hoarseness of Loki's voice, strained from the abuse his mouth had taken.

"Have no fear," Loki responded, amused. His eyes were a dark carnelian with desire, his lips wet with his own saliva and cock hard between his legs as he shed the last of his clothes. "We have -- all night, after all."

"All night?" Thor echoed, watching as Loki slid up his body, straddling his chest and reaching over him for the bedside table with the oil; he brought his hands up, stroking firm thighs, lifting his head to kiss Loki's belly.

Loki straightened up again, fingers threading loosely through Thor's golden fall of hair. He murmured, "Oh, yes."

Then he was uncapping the oil, coating his fingers and shifting up on his knees, hips tilted so that Thor could see him reaching back and bringing two slick fingers to his entrance. Thor's breath caught, his eagerness still throbbing between his legs as he watched Loki tease himself, fingers rubbing, so-gently nudging at his hole, spreading the oil without pressing in.

After a long, lingering moment he let them sink in, smoothly, with two fingers and slow until they were buried completely inside his body, and then he sighed. Thor pulled his gaze away to flick a glance up to Loki's face: eyes closed, expression distant as he focused on the pleasure.

And he spoke: "As this is our last night together, I want to spend every waking moment enjoying your company." He pulled his fingers out and then rocked them in harder, as if to drive home exactly what sort of company he implied. "So you see -- later, perhaps, I will give you my mouth again -- show you how deep I can swallow your cock -- drink you all down..." His voice was growing thinner, breathy; as if he stoked the flames of his own arousal even more than Thor's with his words. "But right now -- I want you to take me."

His fingers were rocking in, in, not even preparing himself so much as thrusting in a mimicry of rutting the way that Thor would do to him soon enough.

A sorcerer indeed, so tempting that it felt like he had Thor under a completely different spell. Thor's hands found his hips, squeezing Loki's ass. "I want that too," he groaned.

He started trying to lift Loki, to turn the Jotun onto his back and ram into him, but Loki stopped him again. Loki murmured, "Let me."

And for the first time -- and not the last that night -- he began to lower himself down onto Thor's rigid cock, and Thor forgot all about tomorrow.

*

"Brother, you look tired. Are you unwell?"

Loki flipped fingers to dismiss Helblindi's concern, and then drew his cloak tighter around him. He murmured, "I did not get as much sleep as I ought. It is nothing to fret about."

Though he felt the same weariness, Thor could not quite help a smirk as he bit into the pear in his hand. He felt more at ease than he had any right to, dressed in leathers and furs, seated in a spartan dining hall that gave him a fleeting glimpse of what Jotunheim might have looked like in its glory days before the war had ravaged it, surrounded by frost giants who had as little respect for him as interest in him, eating foreign-flavored meats and the winter fare that was all this region had to offer. But after months and months of this he was accustomed to it, and he was in a good mood, and for this moment, he felt as if he had truly mastered life in Jotunheim.

Certainly, at least, he had demonstrated fair mastery over its king-to-be. He let his eyes drift to Loki, sipping at his mug, which held only water at this early hour of the day. He muffled a yawn now and again and his eyelids were heavy, but Thor felt that he seemed... well-satisfied.

Last night he had been invited to see past the facade that Loki put forth for all his allies and his enemies. He had seen the real Loki, and they had enjoyed a night as equals.

After this meal, they would go to the Bifrost site. Loki would remove the collar, lift the spell, and then they would part ways.

In spite of everything that had happened, and all his reluctance, and the many ways in which the frost giants still seemed so mysterious and occasionally cruel, his time here had not been so terrible. He had learned much, and been treated well. And Loki was an interesting soul: a person he would not forget, who had exposed him to a world and a life he had not known before. Perhaps he had been manipulated, and perhaps it was humiliating to both Thor and his people, but in the end, it had ended with little lasting harm.

No, it had not been so terrible.

After the dinner a handful of Jotun met them at the vast doors to the hall: Helblindi and Laufey were both among them. The Jotun king was not the tallest giant there and he was not grandly decorated, but he stood out from the rest, his features chiseled and his eyes sharp, thinking. Something in him softened, however, when Loki stepped up to him, and he settled a broad hand on his oldest's shoulder.

"We are prepared to go," he rumbled. "When we return tonight -- a feast in your honor, for what you have done. A feast such as Jotunheim has never seen. I trust you have earned it."

Loki smiled at him, simple. Thor watched him closely, but he could not tell if there was any genuine emotion behind it or not. "I have. You humble me, my king."

Then several of the giants started to turn, ready to leave, but Thor stayed in place. "Where are the clothes that I wore when I arrived?" he asked. It was only proper to return to Asgard in his armor and regalia.

Loki gave him an amused glance. "You think that we kept those all this time?" he countered.

A scowl flitted across Thor's features, and then was gone. "You will have me return to Asgard dressed like a savage," he said, flatly. The squadron assembled behind Laufey fidgeted, some chuckling quietly and others glaring at him. He ignored them, keeping his attention on the little heir who was all that mattered.

"What an ordeal for you. I hope none of your Aesir friends mistake you for one of us and slay you on sight," Loki said, his own tone cheerful. Then he tossed his head, smoothing back his hair, and pointed out, "Once you are in Asgard you will have your weapon again. Can you not manifest your armor with its power?"

It was true. Thor flexed his fingers, imagining Mjolnir's familiar weight in his hand again; the poor thing had been left in the snow and ice a year ago now, and he had missed it sorely. Soon.

"I suppose we will be walking," he said then.

"Consider yourself lucky you still have legs to walk on, impudent prince," Laufey told him, and then jerked his head, gesturing to Helblindi. A handful of giants rose to follow him as they began to move. "Hold your tongue while we travel. I do not know what Loki has allowed from you, but I have no desire to listen to your prattle."

Loki tossed a glance over his shoulder, eyes lidded, and said, "You heard the king. Hold your tongue."

Thor's lips thinned, but of course he had no ability to object to the command. He reminded himself that soon enough, he would be home, and all of this would be but a memory.

The trip seemed uneventful enough. As they moved, Thor glanced back and forth between the giants around them, and the party ranging ahead. He wondered why so many frost giants were necessary for this straightforward escort. Were they worried about an attack? Was Loki being honored so highly? For what?

The thoughts distracted him until he realized that they had reached the cliff overlooking the Bifrost. Thor gazed upon it, knowing that beneath the tightly-packed snow were the familiar markings that symbolized where the bridge would open up.

Home. I am almost home.

Thor found himself smiling, and he started to head down the winding path that would lead to the rolling tundra below.

All but Loki paused when they reached their destination, allowing the two of them to proceed alone, and then Thor turned back to the slight giant, taking him in: windwept black hair lightly dusted with snow, the luminous red of his eyes half-lidded; seeing past the blue of his skin and the tracing paths of his ridged markings to high cheekbones and sensuous lips.

"I thank you -- for making so much of my time here amenable," Thor told him. "I know you were under little obligation to keep this pleasant for me."

Loki's mouth curved up in a smile, and he said simply, "You are most welcome, Thor Odinson. Are you ready?"

Thor closed his eyes, and then said, "Yes."

Fingers touched his chin, turning Thor's face so that their eyes locked, and then Loki commanded, "Once it is opened, you will cross the Bifrost into Asgard. When you arrive there, you will remove the collar. At that point, you are freed of all compulsion I have given you, as well as the magic that neutralized the cold."

Then for a beat Loki just stood there, holding his jaw, and then he lowered his hand again. "As easy as that. You are free to go."

Thor paused for a beat longer, watching him, remembering his face. He smiled again, and then said, "Until the next time we meet, then."

Loki chuckled lightly. "Forgive me if I do not count the days. I have had quite enough of your company to last me the next hundred years or so."

Thor grinned. "In the future. When you and I -- are kings."

"Now, that..." Loki's eyes lidded. "That, I look forward to."

It would be a different time, then. When Asgard was governed by his steady hand with the wisdom he sought to learn from his father, and Jotunheim guided by Loki's clever, unyielding ambition, the willpower that the Jotun felt would guide their kingdom back to its former glory. They could work together, with the understanding they had achieved in their time here.

Not so terrible at all. In fact, for the first time, Thor began to understand some of what Odin had sought to teach him.

One man was not a representative of his entire culture. A single frost giant could be a monster, or he could be a person of depth and intelligence, with dimension and desire. And one's treatment of that person could someday amount to something much more.

That future could be a new dawn for them all.

Thor turned away from Loki, and stepped forward. Almost immediately, a beam of white light arced out of the heavens above, surrounding him in its warm embrace. He let out a breath, turning his face up to it, and let it pull him into the brilliant prismatic rush of the Rainbow Bridge.

*

As the energy of the Bifrost faded and the crisp gray skies of Jotunheim returned to normal, Loki let out a breath and turned back to face the rest of his party, crossing to them. Laufey was smirking, and Helblindi watching steadily.

The king said, "I assume you will be leaving after the feast."

"Of course." Loki drew his cloak tighter around his neck. "Helblindi will stay with you to handle the day-to-day affairs and communicate with me if any urgent need arises. I have already sent word to Angrboda to inform him I will be arriving tomorrow."

"Already?" Helblindi echoed, shifting from foot to foot. "How could you have known it would succeed? Are you even certain now, Brother?"

He was naive. Loki glanced at him, and smiled fleetingly. "I know."

Laufey said, "Of course you do." He was warm and approving. Always so enamored of his runt's preparedness and wit. "What else do you need?"

Loki turned back in the direction of the palace, taking long, quick strides to keep up with the other, taller giants who formed the throne's most trusted aides. "A small contingent. I need to know they can be convinced to keep my secrets. Three hunters, two ice-shapers, five warriors. Hrothgar, if he is available."

Laufey glanced at Helblindi, impassive, and Helblindi said, "I will make him so, Brother, Laufey King." He nodded to them.

"Good," was all Laufey said.

That was all he could reasonably ask for -- all he needed. He would be safe, surrounded by allies and supporters, and well-removed from Jotun politics. With his biggest challenger dead, he would have plenty of time to fade quietly from the public eye again and to grow his power from a remote location.

He had clawed his way up from the bottom to the top once before, and now he was poised to go even higher. To take Jotunheim from the wrecked, ruined realm it was now to the sprawling empire it had once been. He would crush Asgard beneath the leather of his sandal.

All thanks to Thor Odinson. He had given Loki the means to do it all.

"Does Odin's brat suspect anything?" Laufey asked him after a beat.

Loki made a dismissive sound. "Please. He probably still believes that there are giantesses stowed away somewhere he did not see them in all this time."

He supposed he should feel sorry for the fool. It had been too easy to take advantage of his ignorance. Even easier to play his emotions, to hesitate a heartbeat in imitation of unspoken sentiment, or to stoke his ego and make him feel at ease.

But the world was not a fair place. You clawed your way to the top, or it buried you alive.

Laufey's lips split in a broad, proud grin. "And -- the child will be strong?"

He closed his eyes, settling a hand over his flat stomach: reaching inside himself for the energy and the power, calling out to the newly-waking life inside him. And it responded, called back, the brewing force of it so intense that even unconscious and formless it already blazed with a power unmatched by any other.

And Loki smiled. Softly, he said, "Oh, yes."

He would make sure that this child loved him the way all his people did. And then he would be the key to Loki's victory.

To a future that would be a new dawn for them all.