Chapter - 18

(Iceland. The past)

They've lit a fire. They're ridiculously proud of themselves. They heat up some soup. They're starving, and it's getting cooler. They stuff themselves on candy bars and stare at the tiny flames.

"Stop poking it, you'll put it out," says Loki. Thor won't stop prodding at the logs with a stick.

"You have to keep stoking it," Thor says.

"Will you just leave it alone?"

Thor puts the stick down, finally. He is lying on his side, propped on one elbow, one knee up, his mighty legs parted, sprawling like a whore. He's made of sunlight and joy and sex and Loki wants to… God, there isn't anything Loki doesn't want from his brother. He looks away into the hazy horizon.

"What are you looking at," he snaps at Thor after some time, when his brother won't stop staring.

"You," says his golden brother, eyes intense on his. "You're so beautiful."

Loki glowers at him. So that's where this is going. All he has to do is drop a couple of well-worn lines and Loki is putty in his hands, right? And Thor fucking knows it.

Loki turns his eyes back into the distance, where the midnight sun flares red between shreds of pink and orange clouds, the sky a hundred different shades of purple into blue. There are people not too far, other campers. They can hear their muffled voices. This strange hour seems to make everyone quiet, as if the sun that never sets is an odd miracle they don't want to disturb.

Thor's gaze is unwavering, it makes Loki's pulse ramp up.

His brother has not been an arsehole these last few days. He has been kind and attentive and cheerful, accommodating, generous, and so bloody happy. Joy radiates through him like some sort of calm, bright fire that makes even Loki warm. He laughs easily at lots of little things, and he's back to stroking and kissing and ruffling Loki's hair casually, freely, just an affectionate older brother with no worries on his mind. And Loki has been burning for him, aching with love, starved, and has denied himself, punishing himself for god knows what crime. For wanting him. For needing him so badly.

"Want to make out?" says Loki then, as if it's nothing. He knows Thor doesn't like it when he makes it sound cheap and unimportant. To Thor, what they have is some sort of sublime communion of the souls. Loki tells himself this has nothing to do with their souls.

And still, in his brother's insanely muscled arms, their legs tangled, their bodies pressed together, Thor's big, strong hand raking deep in Loki's hair, kissing each other within an inch of their lives… well, no matter what Loki tells himself, there's nothing cheap about it, nothing.

"I want you to fuck me," he murmurs against Thor's mouth.

Thor's breath glitches.

"Are you sure?"

He is and he isn't. Thor is so big, it scares the fuck out of him. But he's been dreaming of it for years, his brother, so beautiful and so strong, desired and wanted by all, taking him, taking everything, leaving nothing left for anyone else to claim. Yeah, he guesses he is sure after all.

They try it half a dozen times. Im-fucking-possible. The only time Thor actually breaches him, Loki squeals in pain, and after that he clenches so tight there is no way. Damn.

In the end, Thor gets off between Loki's thighs as he jerks Loki off, which they've done before. But never under the sun. And that's a big fat fucking novelty. And never while not trying to be totally quiet. And it turns out, Loki is naturally vocal and quite loud, who'd knew. But Thor, Thor's moaning, so husky, so desperate, it makes things inside Loki crumble and burn, and it leaves him feeling raw, and somewhat purer, if that makes any sense.

Getting their breaths back, the golden white vault of the sky over their heads, Loki thinks he could get used to this very quickly. Which is a worry in an of itself.

"Have you fucked anyone before?" asks Loki after a while, back in the tent, naked together in the same sleeping bag, which might be a mistake, because Thor is a fucking furnace.

Thor takes a second too long and Loki knows the answer is yes. He tries to sound cool.

"Who?"

"Juliette," says Thor, his breath in Loki's hair. "Christmas time. You were out shopping with mum."

Loki doesn't say anything for a while. He thinks he knows which afternoon Thor is referring to. Fuck. They were christmas shopping for dad and Thor. Loki bought that creamy, cosy, chunky knitted jumper with lots of cables and a big collar, thinking how gorgeous it would look with Thor's fair hair and golden skin. He knew he was fucking right for hating it when the relatives came to stay at Asgard House for the holidays.

Thor's bulky chest pushes against Loki's scrawny back with his breathing.

"Was it good?" asks Loki.

Thor doesn't answer.

"What, you kiss and tell, but only up to a point?"

"I just… I don't know, Loki," sighs Thor.

"Did you think about me?" asks Loki suddenly, taking even himself by surprise.

Thor is silent and tense at his back.

"Because I always think about you. Always." And where the fuck did that come from, you needy idiot.

Thor hugs him tight. "Me too, baby," he says, with a deep exhale. "Me too."

Loki feels a shiver. Baby. Damn, he's melting. He burrows against his brother's body and is rewarded with a long kiss to the nape of his neck. Fucking putty in Thor's hands.

Loki is on his back and Thor is completely inside him. He's used to the sensation now, they've been fucking at least once a day for a week, leaving his brother panting and sweaty and undone, and Loki throbbing and frustrated, even after Thor has brought him to release with his hand. Loki doesn't enjoy the physical sensation, but he can't get enough of feeling Thor fall apart between his legs and knowing it's his body doing that to him.

This time, though, for some reason, when Thor starts moving, there is a hot murmur of a sensation low in his underbelly, which is neither pain nor discomfort, nor awkward fullness, but something else, and his hard-on is not flagging at all. Thor seems encouraged by that, and therefore he doesn't seem affected by the need to keep asking Loki constantly if he's alright. Loki can't blame him for saving it now, all it has got Thor before is snappy retorts to the tune of "just get on with it," "can you fucking move already," and "shut up, Thor." No, this time Thor goes on empirical observation alone, and decides he can pump a bit faster. Loki's mouth falls unhinged. His toes are curling, he'll get a cramp. This is fucking maddening, this remote, simmering sensation somewhere deep within. But Thor is so slow and careful. This won't do at all.

"Get off," Loki says.

His brother pulls out carefully, and climbs off him, looking confused. And sure enough, here it comes.

"Are you alright?"

"Shut up," says Loki, pushing Thor on his back, straddling him. He lowers himself onto Thor's cock easily, relaxed as he is, open and well lubed, although Thor seems even bigger than usual. Thor exhales with a shaky moan as Loki's body takes him in. And Loki starts fucking himself on him, trying to get to what he feels is just there, barely out of reach. He whimpers, he whines. It's not that, not that, almost, but not quite. It's irritating, annoying. Meanwhile, Thor is arching and panting and moaning under him, his expression almost pained. Loki clenches his jaw, thighs getting tired, and still nowhere near to where he is trying to get.

Thor's reaches for his face, pulls him down for a kiss. Loki stops bouncing and gives himself a second to breathe. He doesn't have that much to compare it with, but he thinks Thor is a damned good kisser, sensual, demanding, with just the right balance of gentle and rough.

Hands on his hips, his brother raises him up, and fucks up into him.

Ah. Ah. Loki's eyes shut tight and he whimpers. Thor fucks faster. Ah, there. God, right there. Fuck, this is good. This is good. The murmur becomes and itch, tangible and immediate, and Thor is scratching it so damn well. Loki hears himself moan like it was someone else, and looks down to his brother's face, where there is a mixture of awe and hunger.

"Fuck, yes..." sighs Loki.

That drives Thor wild. He pistons frantically into him, snapping his hips, with sharp gasps, face contorted with pleasure and effort.

"Oh god," moans Loki, the air pushed out of his lungs with Thor's strong thrusts.

It's overwhelming. Loki arches his back, stays as still as he can for Thor to fuck him.

"Harder, harder…" he whimpers.

"Fuck Loki I…"

"God, Thor…"

Thor's hand is on him, jerking him fast. He loses pace and coordination as he comes with jagged moans. He keeps fucking though, while Loki finishes himself, stripping frantically, biting so hard into his bottom lip he'll leave a mark.

Sweaty and spent, he crumbles on his brother's heaving chest, slick, skin prickly, sated. Thor's arms wrap around him, his breath on Loki's cheek.

Nobody says "that was awesome", nobody says "I love you", nobody says "are you alright". But in each other's arms like that, Loki still hears it, and he still feels it.

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