Cocky boys

by thebookhunter

Chapter 6: A kind of truce

Summary:

This is the end!

It was supposed to come out at some point during the Christmas period, but it fought me so hard. Anyway, it's done now. I'm glad of how it came out.

Warnings for fluff, abundant, unrepentant, proud, tooth-rotting fluff. This being almost a crack fic, I felt entirely entitled to pour love and happiness on my babies without shame.

Thanks for coming along on this ride, it's been a lot of fun.

Notes:

ALL HAIL THORCTOPUS, beta extraordinaire, going above and beyond the call of duty to make this last chapter happen!

She didn't just find the bad English, corrected grammar, spelling, typos, and the rest (whatever remains, you betcha I've put in there). She also took me by the hand, and pulled me and even dragged me along when I was struggling, made the best suggestions, and asked the cleverest questions to make this better.

No, you don't get it: she read through half-assed preliminary drafts, THEN read the subsequent drafts, and finally, she read the last draft too, (and that's a lot of drafts), and never once failed to make me feel anything but encouraged, supported, accompanied, and overall like I was doing fine. You have no idea what a heaven-sent she is.

Also if you're getting ideas, she's mine, you can't have her, find your own (good luck with that)

Loki stormed into the editing room, dropped his coat with a flourish on an unoccupied chair, and planted his butt on the worktop, right by Tony’s elbow. He proceeded to cross his arms petulantly and look like thunder. Tony assessed him out of the corner of an eye, and gave him a moment to stew in it before asking what was wrong. When it comes to spoiled children, better not make them worse by paying them too much attention straight away. He replayed the segment he had been working on (an abrupt burst of manly lustful moans and heavy breathing rang inside the room), to adjust the timeline.

But Loki was very stubborn, and perfectly capable of keeping his silence till hell froze over, so eventually Tony did prompt him,

“Yes?”

“Fuck my entire fucking life,” was Loki’s enigmatic answer.

Tony click-click-clicked, replayed again (Loki’s voice, in the film, “-uck Thor… oh fuck right th-…”)

“Can you specify?” said Tony. “Bit of context, even?” 

“Why, why, why must people go around grilling people about their private lives?” said Loki. “I mean, do I get in your face demanding to know why you and Pepper are not getting married, or having babies, or adopting them, or why don’t you get a fucking dog? Do I?”

(Loki’s voice: “-o owns you, pet?” — Thor’s voice: “Ahhh… Fuck. You do. Fuck, fuuu-...”)

“You never ask me anything about my life, indeed,” granted Tony.

“Because it’s not fucking polite!” snarled Loki. “Like, how do people know they’re not bringing up a sensitive issue? Like, how do I know that you guys have not been trying for a baby for several hundred years, and that your heart breaks whenever the subject comes up? Or that you did have a dog, but it was kidnapped by terrorists and sent back to you one leg per hour, and you’re still trying to get over the trauma? Why do people just assume that personal fucking questions are ok, for god’s sake!”

Tony stared at him with a frown that expressed his complete bafflement.

“Loki, sweetheart, you’ll have to try and narrow it down for me.”

“It’s Thor! Whenever he hears the word ‘wedding’, you can actually see the tears in his eyes from the emotional equivalent of having a baseball bat shoved up his ass!”

Still frowning.

“Pardon me?”

“And I wasn’t even the one who brought it up, they did!” continued Loki.

“They? Who they?”

“Steve, Bucky, Peggy, and Sam, the four fucking trolls of the polypocalypse!”

“Bring up what, sorry?”

“Weddings! Aren’t you listening?”

(Thor’s voice: “-eel so good… You’re making me hard again… God, fuuuuck… Ah, baby, fuck me, harder, har…”)

Loki turned to the screen.

“You’re not using that shot, are you?” he said.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh my fucking god, what’s wrong? What’s wrong? It looks like I have two chins!”

“No it doesn’t.”

Loki glowered, menacing.

“Don’t fucking dare use this angle or I swear to god…”

“Oh, come on!” protested Tony. “It’s incredibly hot! Your eyes are white and you’re all flustered and-…”

“I’m calling Darcy.”

“Fine, fine, fine, I won’t use this shot,” sighed Tony.

“What was I saying.”

“Something about the troll apocalypse. Is it the new thing? Like the Zombie Apocalypse, Scandinavian edition? I’m not sure I followed anyway.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was the one who needed some unnamed deity to grant him patience. “Ok, so. I was saying that people lately just keep asking us… I mean, all people, everybody does, it’s like there’s a conspiracy, I swear, an epidemic. And only over a year ago, Thor didn’t even want a boyfriend, he was very happily single, and god knows why he started this with me, but people just can’t leave it alone, can they?, and they’re all pressing him and pressing him, and…” He huffed, rubbing circles on his temples. “He’s going to break up with me, I just know he is.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow, as he studied poor brick-shitting Loki. He saved the work and pushed his chair back.

“Alright, from the top,” he said. “What the fuck are you on about.”

Loki took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and began his recount.

“Ok. So. For example. One out of a dozen, at least. The other night we went out with Steve, Bucky, Peggy, and Sam on a… I was going to say a double-date. Whatever, you catch my drift. We went out with the Brady Polybunch for dinner. For a moment I feared they were going to ask us to join the fucking free love cult they have going, but thank Gaia or the Moon Goddess or whatever, not this time. Anyway, they’re having this communal bonding ceremony in spring, and they asked us to attend and be testimonies.

“Oh, yeah, they asked Pepper and me too.”

“Congratulations. So anyway, they had to ask, right?,” Loki raised his voice to a higher, mocking pitch, with a saccharine tilt, “‘and what about you, guys? Are you going to tie the knot?’ And you should have seen Thor, he turned several shades of ash, got tense as a spring, and for the rest of the evening he kept throwing me looks, like… Jesus! I didn’t even say anything! I mean, I know it’s not the easiest thing to go from free as an extremely promiscuous bird to arguably monogamous, ok? Like, he hadn’t had a boyfriend since he was twenty because he simply couldn’t be bothered with the hassle. I know he has some issues with commitment, and I know I’m Mr. Clingy McNeedypants, and… oh, my god, he’s so going to dump my ass.”

“So what do you do when people talk about you guys getting married?”

“My butt tightens right up, thank you for asking. I may hyperventilate a little.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why? Am I talking fucking Klingon here?” 

“My Loki-ese is a bit rusty these days, apologies,” shrugged Tony, probably risking a punch in the nose.

Loki huarghed. Then ughed. 

“I don’t need papers, I don’t need a ring, I don’t need a dog and a house in the suburbs! Can’t people just leave it alone? I’m-I’m fine the way things are.”

“Are you really, Mr. Clingy McNeedypants?” challenged Tony.

“Yes I fucking am,” replied Loki, indignant. “I’ve done a bazillion hours of therapy this year. I have a good grip on my neuroses. And ever since we moved in together in May, things got so much better. I’m not staying up all night in fear that I’ll wake up in the morning and he’ll be gone or anything. I’m not,” he glowered at Tony’s eyebrow. “Am not!” he insisted. And in a smaller voice, “Anymore. …Much. Hardly ever at all, actually.” Loki sighed miserably. “Listen, what I want, what I really fucking want, is not to scare him off, ok? I don’t want him to feel constricted or limited or tied down or…”

“But darling, you’re doing so well with that,” said Tony. “I mean, personally, for a while I wasn’t altogether sure about whether Thor would even carry on with his career in this great business of ours, what with your insecurities and all that…” (Yes, he noticed that glower, so he pushed right on, hoping Loki would forget about being offended.) “And only a few weeks after you got together, ta-da!, here he was, back in the saddle, and your relationship still going strong! I was so proud of you, Mr. McNeedypants of Jealous-shire.”

Loki glared at him through a narrow, hostile squint. Tony gulped. 

“That was a matter of survival,” said Loki, after a moment — pensive now, not so squinty anymore. “After a month or two, I realised my body couldn’t physically cope with Thor’s sexual appetite all by its little self. Three times a day is enough for me, usually. So his job came in handy. But anyway, it’s not all about sex, is it?” His voice and demeanour turned small again. “I know I can be a handful, and that I suck up a lot of emotional energy. And he never even wanted to look after anyone like that in the first place. I’m sure he’s stretched pretty thin as it is. And if people keep pressing him on the subject, and he starts to believe that I need it too… Goddammit, Tony, his eye fucking twitches whenever the subject pops up.”

Tony patted his thigh, reassuring.

“Thor is fine. He is. I swear.”

Loki squinted suspiciously again.

“What do you know?”

Tony shrugged. 

“I just know you guys are alright.”

Loki kept right on squinting. Tony’s butt got shifty in his seat. That squint was really squinty.

“Don’t you want to get married one day?” asked Tony, trying to distract attention.

Loki shrugged and mumbled “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” said Tony. “Is that true?”

Loki bit a fingernail, looking busted.

“What I don’t want,” he sighed tiredly, as if he had explained this ten times already, “is to see him run away in a panic, before this even begins to get remotely close to becoming a potential possibility that might happen one day.” Rubbing the tip of his boot on the carpet. “I don’t want to be greedy. I know I’ve won the lottery. I just… I have this chip on my shoulder all the time, that there’s been a mistake somewhere along the line, that I was never supposed to have any of this happening to me, and that The Powers That Be will find out any time soon, and it will all get taken away and given to whoever it was that actually deserved it.” Loki turned a pair of pleading eyes at him that would get even the scruffiest, mangiest, most flee-infestedest puppy adopted.

“You silly sausage,” said Tony, shaking his head slowly in dismay. “Don’t you know that Thor goes around saying the exact same things about you? That he doesn’t know how he got so lucky, that you deserve nothing short than an actual real-life prince, as in, someone who has a palace, some proper Crown Jewels, and a Chancellor of the Exchequer? That he didn’t know what he’s done to deserve you, et cetera et cetera et cetera, and then some more cetera?” He huffed. “If you ask me, you should put a fricking ring on it, and be done with it already. For my sake, if nobody else’s. It’s doing my head in.”

Loki’s expression had suddenly taken a hazy, soft quality.

“Does he really say that?” he asked.

“Constantly,” sighed Tony. “And I mean constantly. As in, haven’t you noticed how much ass he’s eating and all the head he’s giving in his scenes lately? Only way to shut him down! And the retakes I’ve had to do because he’s calling out your name, god help me!”

Loki’s eyes sparkled.

“He calls out my name?”

“Yes, my dear, he very much does. Want to see the outtakes? I’m saving them for your silver anniversary.”

Loki’s eyes got lost in space, and he went quiet, that wisp of a smile. After a second, Tony grinned too. He just had to, look at that face. I bet you guys didn’t imagine that Loki Laufeyson, the Ice Princess, could look so… anime.

“He’s taking you to meet his mom and dad for Christmas, isn’t he?” asked Tony. “That doesn’t sound like anybody is doing any ass-dumping anytime soon…”

Loki shrugged.

“It’s sort of… obligatory?” he said, biting the nail of his right pinkie raw. “His mom has been asking for months. I can’t keep putting it back without it looking as if I don’t want to meet them. They’ll be offended.”

“I thought you were desperate to meet them. Like, moaning with desire at the suggestion. The weirdest form of sex-talk I ever did hear, and I’ve heard some things…”

Loki threw him a dismissive glare. Then he turned all little again.

“Well, when it came to the real thing, it got a bit scary. I mean, have you even seen that family? They look like a cut-out from Homes and Gardens, they’re that perfect. He’s a captain of industry, self-made man, ridiculously successful; she has her own textile design company, and some of her tapestries are in actual museums around the world; they’ve been happily married for thirty years or something silly; you have met the genetically superior offspring they produce; and I… well, look at me…”

“I’m looking,” smiled Tony sweetly.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really. Listen, sweetie-pie, they’re good people, I know them. All they want is for Thor to be happy, and you make him happy. Under your prickly exterior, you’re actually quite adorable, and they will love you. Why shouldn’t they?”

Loki was worrying at the hem of his shirt.

“I’m a fucking train-wreck,” he mumbled, pink with embarrassment and disappointment in himself. “I was going to pack our bags yesterday, and pick an outfit for myself, for Christmas day. You know, get some things done. Sounds easy, right? Fast forward to six hours later, when Thor walks into the apartment and finds me sobbing on a pile of torn-up clothes, shoes all over the fucking place, and don’t ask what happened to the toiletries… Or the carpet.” He sighed heavily, his voice thick. “I struggled to decide what to wear, you see? First impressions are important, and I… Goddammit, I can’t even fucking pack a bag without losing my rag completely. How are they ever going to think I’m good enough for him? …Why does he even put up with me, why…?”

Tony very nearly petted his head. He gave him a friendly poke on the side instead.

“What did Thor do?”

Loki kept worrying at the hem of his sweater. He spoke in a tiny voice, eyes low.

“Picked me up, ran a bath, tidied everything up while I was soaking, rescued what could be salvaged, put aside what could be mended, and got rid of the rest. Then he swaddled me in a towel, and cuddled with me on the couch. Fed me cookies and milk, kissed me a lot, carried me to bed, there may have been a spot of sixty-nineing. And then he snored merrily into the night, while I stayed awake and wondered what have I done to deserve him.”

“Sounds to me like he does a bit more than just putting up with you,” said Tony, trying not to “aww”.

Loki’s expression had softened up an awful lot, thinking about his caring, devoted, endlessly patient boyfriend.

“He’s very good to me,” he admitted.

“He adores you. He thinks that sunshine comes out of your ass. And considering how often and how deep he’s been in there, he might be onto something.” He patted that shapely thigh once more. “Don’t think about it too much. I’m sure things will work out in the end. What Tony Stark has joined, good luck trying to tear it asunder…”

Tony returned to the editing table, before Loki could protest again. The screen showed Loki and Thor engaged in a vigorous, quite athletic exercise of penetrative sex. Loki’s eyes glazed when they set on his beloved’s… could be his face, could be anything else, it was pretty much all there.

“I enjoyed this part,” mused Loki, dreamy.

“So did I,” sighed Tony. 

Loki snapped out of it. He stood up and started to layer up (coat, gloves, scarf, that cute oversized beret) to walk out into the cutting chill of the Manhattan streets in late December.

“The moment I walk out that door you’re going to put that double-chin shot right back in, aren’t you?” he said, without acrimony.

“It’s so beautiful,” said Tony, apologetically. “You look transported.” To next Tuesday, with Thor riding the Cock O’Clock Express, he kept to himself.

“I was,” smiled Loki.

Tony took in that grin. Loki smiled so much nowadays. Gone was the permanent scowl, the twist of derision always set in his lip, the constant resting Princess-Bitch face (mostly).

“Merry Christmas, Toto,” said Loki, leaving a kiss on top of Tony’s head before he left.

Tony grinned from ear to ear at the old nickname.

“You too, Lolo. And give my love to your man as well. And his charming family.”

Loki winked at him, the sexy fucker, and left.

 

 

Ok, then, back to work. This had to come out tomorrow, Christmas day. Tony replayed the last segment. He would be tweaking it until the very last minute; he couldn’t help himself. 

Ah, he had come to love this time of the year. Among those who celebrate the holidays, there are some who hang stockings on the mantelpiece, and leave some sherry and cookies for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph; some set up a Nativity scene; others make a candle circle, gather around a wreath, and burn a Yule log, perhaps while chanting. But at Stark Studios, they make up a round bed with red silk linens, light it up nicely, set up a few cameras, and ask their favourite toys to unwrap themselves and come to play. With each other. Naked. For money. 

It very nearly didn’t happen this year. When Tony had first approached them about it, they had turned him down. Oh no, they said, we’re done with polls and competitions and online voting. Tony rushed to specify there was not going to be any vote — he wanted them. The fans are thirsty to see you together again, he told them, and now that you’re a real couple, more than ever. Extra-spicy, you see, to see two porn gods who are actually in love with each other going at it. It’s our anniversary, they said, we’ve shared enough of our relationship with the world, we want to celebrate in private (true, that: their first kiss, their first fuck, their entire courtship… they had fallen in love live on the internet!). No problem, Tony had quickly replied, it doesn’t have to be live; let’s shoot it a few days earlier, and run it on Christmas Day. Oh, come on, boys, do it for the studios. For me? Pretty please, with a cherry-flavoured condom on the top?

Bless them, they agreed. The looks they threw at each other while signing the contract, mischievous and hungry. So, it seemed they were approaching this scene as a kind of game to spice up their routine - god, yes.

With a couple who had been shagging each other’s brains out for a year, a choreography meeting to ensure things would run smoothly didn’t seem overly necessary. It’s risky, said Pepper. I love surprises, said Tony. It wasn’t live anyway, there was room for error. He did ask Thor, for technical reasons, if they had a plan at all. Loki does, said Thor, but he’s not telling. Oh, interesting. 

Loki was under pressure, that’s for sure. He had been away from the cameras since that last scene with Thor — too busy being disgustingly happy, being screwed out of his mind, going to therapy and couples counselling, and working on a new novel, a new volume of poetry, and his band. The thirst to see him in action again flooded the Studios’ inboxes. Loki being the way he was, Tony had made a point of saying there was expectation, but not making too big a deal of it. He didn’t need Loki feeling any more pressured than he was already. Because Thor had been working as much as usual, reasserting his rule over the Online Gay Porn Kingdom, and his latest scene, with the precious newbie Bucky Barnes, had almost taken down their servers. So there was that. Some called Bucky the new Loki, so there was that as well. Ouch. As much as Loki and Bucky liked each other in real life, this had to be making Loki very, very nervous. Last but not least, Loki was competing with himself: remember his last few scenes? Try to top that! And it was no use trying to conjure up the ghost of hate-sex past, when they couldn’t so much as look at each other without a circle of little harp-plucking cupids popping up, and fluttering around their heads singing romantic power ballads. So, Loki would have to think of something that would be at least on a par with his own previous work, and reclaim his place as the only consort truly worthy of sharing the throne with King Thor. Tony hoped that so many expectations would not be ending up in the need to resort to, say, Viagra.

He remembered with a snicker how fidgety Loki looked on the day of the shoot. He had quickly fallen back into his old snarky ways.

“What’s the set supposed to be? Santa’s Workshop?” he grumbled.

The deco this time was of the old-timey Coke ad style, and the place was kind of busy. There was an array of furniture scattered around: three armchairs of different types, a table, a bench, an ottoman, a fainting couch, a divan, even a drinks bar, sans drinks, a good pile four inches thick of rugs on the floor, and last but not least, the round bed with red silk linens. 

“Well,” shrugged Tony, “since I still haven’t a clue what you guys intend to do, I figured I’d just provide you with, uh, options.”

Loki felt the cushioning of the nearest armchair with a decidedly upturned nose.

“I won’t be touching this one, that’s for sure,” he said.

“Why not?” It was cushy and soft, and the angle of the backrest made Tony think of bracing comfortably against it while, say, somebody gets eaten out?

Loki turned to him as if Tony was completely stupid.

“You’re trying to kill us or something? If there is any sort of friction on this type of material, we could both be fucking electrocuted by the static,” he said.

Speaking of static. When Thor had entered the set, and his gaze met Loki’s, Tony could swear that everyone in the room had felt it, his own hair standing on end. 

“Odinson,” saluted Loki, his carriage lofty and proud, the hint of an arrogant smirk dancing on his sexy crooked mouth.

“Laufeyson,” said Thor, with a hot, heavy once over, about as intense as if he had physically run his hands all over him. “Somebody is out to impress,” he noted.

Tony had thought that too. He was guessing Loki had gone for a facial, professional hairdressing, a very classy manicure, and he was waiting for visual confirmation, but he wagered full-body exfoliation, and perhaps a bit of downstairs topiary? He had picked a pair of leather trousers and a jade green silk shirt, open at the neck, and he looked absolutely dazzling.

“I see you’ve opted for a natural look,” said Loki, with understated sarcasm. Thor wore jeans and a plain black cotton t-shirt, his hair up in a bun, unshaven. “And why not, indeed. After all, even without trying, you don’t look one day above thirty.”

“I’m twenty-eight, asshole,” replied Thor, not really angry. And Loki was twenty-six, and didn’t he like to remind Thor about it. 

“At least you have your health,” jabbed Loki.

Thor snorted, smiling in spite of himself.

“Well, this old man can still give you a run for your money.”

“Oh, but it’s been such a long time for me, I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty. I know that, with the extremely qualified professionals you usually work with, this job is easy, but I’m kind of an amateur, you see, and-…”

“Easy?” scoffed Thor. “Sweetheart, I make it look easy. I can make the most vanilla amateur look like a sex good. Don’t be nervous, darling, I have some oil for that rust. I’ll give those cobwebs in your butt a thorough sweeping.”

Loki was grinning frankly now.

“Shall we then?” he said.

“Oh, we shall.”

Time for their stretching and warming up exercises. Loki turned his back on Thor, and folded himself in half, leather taut over his perfect butt. He looked at his boyfriend from around his ankles, and winked. Thor was smiling from ear to ear as he shook his head. While Thor rotated his shoulders and warmed up his quadriceps, Loki busied himself performing feats of astounding, pretty suggestive flexibility, and naughty acrobatics (the small audience at one end of the room, gathered behind an actual red rope they had borrowed from the club two streets down, were ooh-ing, ahh-ing, and clapping). Thor retaliated simply by throwing his arms behind his head (his biceps bulged outrageously, there were muted gasps from the audience), and arching his back, which made his butt clench and his crotch push forward. And there was a lot of crotch, and seemingly, never enough denim… Loki, butt on the floor, legs spread right open, visibly gulped. And Tony, excited as a little boy on Christmas Eve (which he sort of was, or thereabouts), couldn’t contain the naughty smirk and the tiny jumps of excitement. His boys were in shape, and this was going to be fun.

They took positions, standing proud, face to face, eyes trained on each other, two boxers knocking gloves. Tony called the countdown, while Thor did a last minute readjustment, and Loki some masticating warm-up motions with his jaw — the porn equivalent of cracking their knuckles. Tony gave the signal.

“Hello, I’m Loki Laufeyson,” announced that voice - warm honey, toasted coffee beans, spicy chocolate - his eyes never leaving Thor’s.

“And you all know who I am,” said Thor, that shit-eating smirk that was both infuriatingly slappable and absolutely irresistible.

Loki arched an eyebrow in realisation. Oh, so he intended to play it like that?

“And we’re going to fuck,” said Loki, that inflection in his voice making Thor’s arm and neck cover up in goosebumps.

“Happy Christmas,” said Thor, gravelly, his stare hot and heavy as warm caramel.

That smile of excitement and anticipation on both their faces, what a thing of beauty. Thor reached up, grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair and cupped his jaw. He drew him close, and here comes the kiss. Deep, hungry, greedy, wet, and messy, and enthusiastically reciprocated, with Loki’s claws digging in his boyfriend’s hair as he whimpered, a little oof when Thor grabbed his ass and pulled him close, lifting him off the ground, fingers digging into flesh; Loki wrapped his legs around his waist, and they devoured each other’s mouths with a passion that was completely spontaneous, totally genuine, and a joy to behold. 

Thor’s lips dragged along his boyfriend’s sharp jaw to his neck. He was mumbling something, but Loki’s own desperate, huffy breathing was covering it. Sharon the sound girl moved in, and Tony paid attention… Something something “begging”, something something “dare you”, something something… “laundry”?

Loki laughed all of a sudden, such a fresh, bright sound. With joy and abandon, he gave his boyfriend’s butt a vicious pinch.

“Ow!” Thor let go of him for a second, and there we go, Loki was free and on the run. “You little…”

For a few minutes, it was quite chaotic. The boys chased each other around the set, jumping over furniture, toppling the Christmas tree and a couple of chairs, while Coulson and Pietro tried to keep up, and the guys with static cameras did their best to keep them in frame, spinning on the spot, like the rotating artillery posts on the Millennium Falcon. Clint at control looked as if, had he six hands, he would be facepalming in despair with each and every one of them.

“Why didn’t I take that job with the National Geographic…” Tony heard Coulson mumbling as he ran past. “I’m too old for this crap…”

Well, here’s an idea, thought Tony. Maybe David Attenborough was free to do the voiceover on this, narrating the mating ritual of the North American Homo Pornographicus. 

“Goddammit, Loki!” cursed Thor. He grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist and tripped him. They both tumbled on the rug, panting and laughing. Thor had him pinned down with arms and legs.

“What now, eh?” he taunted, rubbing their crotches together.

Loki was squirming and twisting, but it wasn’t so much to get free as it was to drive his man completely mad with lust. Thor was straining very badly in his jeans. 

“Behave, or else,” he muttered gruffly, as he grabbed Loki’s wrists with just one hand, so that he could deal with his own zip and pull his cock out with the other. 

Loki’s eyes widened, mesmerised by his boyfriend’s dick staring him in the eye.

“Fuck…” he growled, huffy. “Give it to me…”

Thor climbed up his body, sat on his chest. Loki had the use of arms and legs now. He slipped his hands under Thor’s jeans to help them down, exposing his butt, and pulled him closer, until he was able to take his cock in his mouth. 

“Hmmm…” Thor threw his head back, eyes shut blissfully. He began to thrust gently, with Loki hollowing his cheeks around the head and shaft. “Oh mother of ffff… Ah, baby… God, yes, god…”

Loki sucked a finger and reached behind Thor, circling his ass, and tracing the crack from ballsack to tailbone, teasing, as he flicked his tongue under the glans. Thor grabbed his wrist and guided his hand.

“Yes, baby, do it, come on…” And he groaned, low and husky, when he felt him slip inside. He gazed down at Loki with adoration, rocking his hips between Loki’s mouth and his fingers. He was a ruin. He reached behind himself, arching backwards, feeling for Loki’s crotch. What a lovely, lovely frieze they made. Loki groaned around his boyfriend’s cock when Thor’s hand found his flies, deftly undid a couple of buttons, and slipped inside his pants. Tony gasped when he saw that delicious bit of fuzz poking from the V of Loki’s half-undone leather trousers. Tony had only ever seen him clean shaved, but there it was, golden fuzz — his ginger baby! Did Thor prefer him au naturel, then? Oh, be still Tony’s heart! What a treat!

Thor slipped down Loki’s body, kissing everything in sight, probably with the intention of helping him out of his pants. Never happened. The moment Loki had some room, he scrambled up onto his feet and fled.

“Goddammit, baby,” cursed Thor, cock hard and leaking. “I’m going to make you beg for it now.”

“I don’t beg,” said Loki.

The jeans halfway down Thor’s butt were a hindrance. He slipped and hopped out of them on the run, hard and flappy. They were now circling a table, cautiously studying each other as two big cats before a fight, eyes locked, flustered and disheveled. 

“Come on, take the bet. If I lose, I’m doing laundry for a whole month,” said Thor.

Given the fact that in that house they went through a full set of linens a day, plus the bath towels and the kitchen towels whenever they got frisky first thing in the morning while waiting for the toasts to pop up (which Tony knew was a usual occurrence), that must amount to a metric fuckton of laundry per month. Shit was getting serious.

“Since I already do the laundry,” said Loki, “what do you get?”

“The sweet satisfaction of victory, and hearing you beg me to let you come.”

Thor was fed up of the cat and mouse around the table. He shoved the furniture to one side, muscles bulging. Loki made a strangled sound — he had a thing for his boyfriend’s sheer physical power. He let Thor crowd him against a wall and stare him down. He reached blindly to one side, his hand found some tinsel, currently framing a picture. He pulled it away, and wrapped the tinsel around Thor’s neck. He drew him close, went for his ear. Nibbling at his earlobe, he purred.

“I don’t beg…” He sucked Thor’s earlobe between his lips, and Thor’s mind went somewhere far away for a moment. Meanwhile, Loki dragged the tinsel down his boyfriend’s back, around the crooks of his elbows, around his arms… And it was only when Loki pushed him away, that Thor realised he was bound. In tinsel. Like a fucking Christmas tree, blue baubles and all, after all that fucking teasing. All that was missing was a string of lights and an angel on his head. He wriggled and strained against his ties, but they dug in his flesh painfully and didn’t give. How the fuck had Loki done it?

“I don’t beg, but you will,” said Loki, and with a strong shove, he sent Thor stumbling back, and falling heavily on a cushioned armchair. “And how.”

Loki stalked closer to Thor, swinging his hips, eyes blazing. He was mumbling a song, and dancing to it, arms up, down his hair, down his body, on his flies, rolling his hips with his back to Thor, and facing him again to undo the rest of the buttons. He circled around Thor, with yet more tinsel he plucked from the fallen Christmas tree, wearing it like a feather boa. And Thor was watching and loving it, his cock rising from his lap, wagging like a happy puppy’s tail with Loki’s shenanigans. 

“When I get my hands on you, baby…” he was saying. 

Loki slipped out of his pants and flaunted his glorious, fully erect, gold-dusted nakedness. He went down on his knees in front of Thor, finally, and leaned closer… to blow hot breath on that purple, straining cock. Then a feather-light brush of lips. Then the slightest flick of his tongue.

“Fuck, fuuuuuck...” growled Thor. “You goddamn tease…”

Whenever he tried to thrust up, seeking some proper contact, Loki pulled back. And then returned to that sexual equivalent of Chinese Water Torture, while Thor grunted, cursed, and strained in his gold and silver bindings.

“You’re going to fucking pay for this…” Thor groaned, when Loki stood up. Tony had never seen him so hard, so big, or so angry.

“I’m not finished,” said Loki. 

Crouching slightly above Thor’s lap, ass hovering, (wet with lube and prepped before the shoot began) he lowered himself down, brushing on the head, and then took it in, only the head, and popped it out again, with a hip twist.

“Holy mother of fffff…!” groaned Thor, panting.

Loki did it again, and again, and again.

“Loki, when I get free I swear to god I’m going to fucking…”

*Pop*

“Fuuuuck…”

And again, and again, just the head, that wet pop. Loki was tormenting himself with this, but he clearly thought it was worth it, judging from the smugness of his expression.

“Loki, for the love of…”

*Pop*

“Who owns you?” purred Loki.

Thor roared.

“Who owns you, pet?” repeated Loki, low and whispery.

“Ahhh, fuck,” growled Thor, throwing his head back, “you do… Fuck, fuuuuck...”

“Are you ready to beg yet…”

*Pop*

Thor growled.

*Pop*

“You don’t really w-… (oh sweet frigging Jesus) want me to beg…” panted Thor. (*Pop* — hiss.) You don’t like me doing laundry anyway…”

“You always use low temp settings…” breathed Loki, a small roll of hips. (*Pop*) “Linen and towels need to be… ah… washed at h-high temperatures… to kill the mites…”

“What century are you even from…” groaned Thor.

*Pop*

“Oh, for fucks sakes, baby…”

“All you have to say is please… (*Pop*) …and ask nicely…”

*Pop*

Thor had had enough. With Loki still hell-bent on giving him a heart attack, Thor decided to take matters into his own hands. He set his jaw, and tensed his fists. His biceps bulged, then bulged some more, his face turned blood red, then a mighty roar… And the tinsel ripped, exploding in a little shower of gold and silver. 

Loki staggered backwards, whimpering with arousal, as Thor charged against him like a ram. He was tackled, crushed against the wall, lifted bodily in the air, and impaled bareback on his boyfriend’s extremely hard cock, in one fluid motion. He oomphed and groaned, eyes closing in bliss. They panted together for a moment, eyes locked, before Thor began to pound him savagely. Loki’s smile was one of pure triumph. Tony saluted him. Here is a man who knows how to get what he wants, exactly how he wants it.

When that position didn’t allow him to give it to Loki as hard as he deserved, Thor carried him to a table, and bent him over it. The legs of that heavy, solid hardwood piece of furniture were screech-screech-screeching as they got dragged across the floor with Thor’s vigorous thrusts (Loki whining “oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god” in time with the slaps).

For the final number, Thor threw Loki over the divan, folded him in half, and with all his weight, he hammered him through the cushions — quite literally: there was a crack, the structure gave in, and Thor kept fucking him regardless. 

When Loki tried to reach for his own cock, Thor grabbed his wrists and held them over his head. Loki’s whimpers were desperate, pleading.

“Thinking of begging yet?” grunted Thor, fucking relentlessly.

Loki, with his eyes half closed, put on a smarmy smirk. Thor pulled out, took himself in hand, and came over his lover, shaking, while Loki cursed him in several languages. Then Thor shoved his cock back in straight after, grinding his hips to milk his orgasm to the last drop, sluggish with climax, panting like a steam train.

But he still wouldn’t let Loki touch himself, and Loki was so hard, leaking, sobbing.

“God fucking dammit,” he pleaded, twisting and pulling and trying to get free, which was not going to happen while still impaled on Thor’s cock with his wrists held in an iron grip above his head.

“Thor, you fucking…”

“What was that…?” teased Thor, grinding, grinding.

“Finish it already!” roared Loki.

“Ask nicely,” whispered Thor, still hard, shifting and pressing inside Loki. 

Loki was sobbing, making little desperate noises that were the hottest thing Tony had ever heard.

“Please…” he finally, finally broke. “Please, baby…”

“Say ‘I beg you’,” whispered Thor, rolling his hips, butt clenching.

“Ah, fuuuuck…” Loki gritted his teeth, and swallowed his pride. “I beg you…”

Thor stole a deep kiss, and pulled out. He straddled Loki’s hips, sat down on his cock, and began to bounce merrily.

Loki let out a long, throaty, animal growl, and began to fuck up. He opened his eyes and their gazes connected. Thor’s lids were becoming heavy again.

“Fuck…” he sighed.

Thor unmounted and got up. Loki roared in anger before he realised what Thor was up to. Which was to go down on his hands and knees on the floor. Loki wasted no time. He took position and shoved it in. He began to plough, fast and dirty, so close now, while Thor mumbled encouragements.

“Yes, that’s it baby, fuck me, fuck me… Oh fuck baby, you feel so good, you feel so good… You’re making me hard again… God, fuuuuck… Ah, baby, fuck me, harder, harder, fuck me…” He had to dig in his nails and brace himself to counter Loki’s last thrusts.

Loki came like he was breaking down to pieces, bless him, and collapsed bonelessly over his lover’s body, panting. He nuzzled into the back of Thor’s neck, and Thor turned his head for a kiss.

 

And that had all been wonderful, Merry Christmas to you, Tony Stark. But then his babies had cuddled up together on the rug, kissing languorously in a tangle of limbs, whispering sweet nothings, snickering like a couple of kids, and it was so intimate, so private, so fucking cute, Tony had almost, almost turned his face away, but not quite. He wasn’t going to say that had been the hottest thing of all, but fucking hell…

It would be an epic scene. He couldn’t wait till tomorrow. And he could be proud: he had managed to edit some pretty challenging material with only half the blood in his brain. No mean feat, that.

 

 

*

 

 

When Thor got home that evening after a pretty long day, full of promotional engagements, he found his boyfriend on the kitchen floor, crying with anger and frustration, sitting in the middle of a cloud of flour.

“Uuuh… baby?” he said, approaching carefully. Whatever you do, don’t say ‘what the hell is going on’, don’t say ‘have you gone completely mad’, don’t say ‘did a bomb just explode in our kitchen?’ “Can… can I help you? At all? Maybe?”

Loki kicked a dirty tin by his feet. It rolled all the way to Thor’s shoe. He picked it up, put it on the worktop, and took another step closer.

“W-what happened?”

“Tried to bake some brownies,” grunted Loki. Sniffle. “You know, to take to your mom and dad’s. Overcooked them, so I tried muffins, but they’re so lame. Tiramisù is nice, but it’s not even baked, so would she think I’m a lazy fuck? The macaroons were a stupid idea, just pretentious. The Devil’s Food cake sounded a lot more exciting that what I ended up with. I ran out of ideas.” He curled up into a ball, knees up, sniffing. “I’m such a fucking idiot. She’s going to hate me,” he whispered, with a sob.

Oh. 

“She? You mean, my mom?” asked Thor.

“No, I mean Hillary Clinton!” Loki wiped his nose with the back of his hand, left two snotty-floury tracks across his cheek. 

Thor sat down beside him, back against the cabinets. He didn’t dare touch him yet. He was racking his brains, going over all they had learned at couples counselling. He knew there were a million wrong things to say at this moment. Learning the right thing to say, however, was an entirely different kettle of fish. Good job Loki was also doing much better at processing Thor’s blunders as the well-meaning stabs in the dark they were, and becoming a lot more patient - with the world in general, and with Thor in particular. He snapped less, his sarcasm was more and more on the humour side of the spectrum, rather than the passive-aggressive, and overall they were making progress on all fronts, and doing really well. So well, in fact, that they have gotten to this point — the point in the relationship where the next logical step was to meet Thor’s parents. Which had been arranged for tomorrow, Christmas day.

He had not been entirely happy about leaving Loki alone in the flat when he left that morning. Loki was… well, Thor could tell that his boyfriend had been feeling the pressure. The therapist had warned them not to make a big deal of it if some hiccups occurred in the build-up to the big moment, that they didn’t mean necessarily that they were losing ground. Which was very reassuring, but Thor could have used some cue-cards right now, indicating the exact words he needed not to make this worse.

“My mom doesn’t hate people,” he said, eventually. “It’s just not the way she is.”

Loki sniffled loudly. Thor handed him a tissue. Loki blew his nose.

“I can’t even bake a fucking cake without….” he gestured around. “I’m fucking hopeless. Is this what your parents wanted you to end up with?”

Thor’s heart clenched in pain, but he held it in as best he could. He knew better than to make Loki’s burdens heavier right now by reminding him that hearing him say things like that hurt like hell. They would deal with it later. He tried petting his hair gently, and when Loki didn’t spit or hiss at him, he wrapped an arm on his shoulders, and kept petting him.

“So what happened to all those cakes you baked?” asked Thor, who couldn’t see any.

“Trash.”

Shame. (Don’t say that out loud.)

“What about the cookies you baked yesterday?” (note how he didn’t say ‘what’s wrong’). “Did anything happen?”

“One word: icing.”

Thor arched an eyebrow, uncomprehending. Loki felt blindly on the worktop, looking for something.

“I fucking ruined them,” he said once he found what he’d been fumbling for, and handed Thor a small tray.

Thor had a look at a dozen cookies shaped as snowflakes, decorated with pretty lines of white icing. Bit amateurish, but hardly ruined. 

He didn’t say any of that. Experience had taught him it wouldn’t do any good to contradict Loki right now. It would simply irritate him, and nasty things might get shouted out. No point. Forget the cookies. 

A few months ago, he would have just told Loki to leave it alone, that nobody expected him to bring anything anyway, that he had been baking all day, and it was so late, wasn’t he tired? He would have told him to leave it be, have a rest, and forget about it. A few months later, Thor had learned that, hearing (basically) that the very thing that had caused his meltdown didn’t matter to anyone but him, wasn’t going to help Loki in the least. Quite the opposite. He knew now that, if it mattered to Loki, it just mattered, so it had to be dealt with accordingly; end of.

“She loves fruit cakes,” said Thor after a bit of thinking. “Anything spongy with chunks of fresh fruit baked inside, and she’ll be your biggest fan.”

Loki frowned in thought. Thor held on to his butt for an answer.

“Like… apple or something?” asked Loki.

Phew.

“Yeah, exactly. Apple and berries in a nice, plain, buttery sponge cake, a crust of sugar on top. Straightest way to her heart.”

“Really?” said Loki.

“Yup, really,” said Thor, wiping the flour off the tip of his boy’s nose. The snotty strip on the cheek would require tools.

Loki’s expression had changed. His frown was not angry anymore, but from thinking. His eyes were no longer glassy with tears, but bright with the sharp turns of his brain as it rounded the troops and assessed his resources. He hopped onto his feet, and began to rummage in the cupboards. 

Ten fucking points to Gryffindor, said Thor to himself, still from the floor.

“So, can I eat these?” He went to grab a cookie.

“No!” said Loki, swatting his hand and taking the tray away from him. “You need to go to the shops. We need butter, eggs, apples, and berries. And you need to watch your fucking carbs; you’re a porn star, remember?”

Thor smiled all the way to the shops, and whistled happily all the way back. He bought some flowers too. Loki was too engrossed in the task to notice straight away, but he would, eventually, and Thor was sure, he would love them.

 

 

 

About an hour and a half later, Loki plummeted on the couch next to him. He looked exhausted, but serene.          

“Success?” asked Thor.

“I guess so… Are you sure that’s what she likes? Looks a little plain…”

“I’m sure. And it smells like a cake my grandma used to make. What did you put in it?”

“Cinnamon and aniseed.”

Thor inhaled, with a hum of delight. 

“She’s going to have a Proust moment,” he said. “Trip back in time. She’s going to adore you for it.”

“You sure?”

Thor drew him close to kiss his head.

“I’m sure.”

Loki scooted as close as he could get, and burrowed under his arm. Thor held him tight.

“I love you, Thor,” whispered Loki.

“I love you too, baby.” Thor sighed in content. “Happy anniversary.”

“Oh, fuck,” groaned Loki, hiding his face in Thor’s shoulder. “Shit. Fuck. Sorry…”

“It’s alright, baby.” He pressed his lips on Loki’s forehead for a long, intense kiss. “It’s alright.”

“Happy anniversary,” mumbled Loki. “I did remember yesterday, and the day before, I swear… I’ve remembered for months…”

“It’s alright, baby…”

“I fucking swear! Wait, I’ll show you…”

He escaped from under Thor’s arm and had a rummage in his knitting trunk. 

Knitting had started as occupational therapy for Loki, to relax and have a creative outlet when writing was too much, but it had grown into a fully-fledged obsession. He had discovered a passion for fibre and stitch patterns and colour and rare breeds and exotic, one-of-a-kind, hand-dyed skeins he would hunt around country fairs like the Holy Grail, as he amassed a growing hoard of wool that nobody could live long enough to use, but clearly made Loki happy. 

And now he had a bundle in his arms, and was shakingly offering it to Thor.

“I forgot to wrap it. And it’s really bad luck, but…”

Thor spread out the bundle on his lap. It was a hand knitted sweater.

“Oh, wow! Baby, it’s beautiful! When did you even make this! I didn’t see you doing that!”

“Whenever you were out, working or whatever.”

“Aww, baby!” He slipped it on, and modeled it in front of the hall mirror, cuddling himself. It was slightly asymmetrical, one sleeve noticeably longer than the other, kind of itchy around the neck, and smelled of sheep (only natural fibres for Loki, thank you very much, none of that acrylic shit; he was a right fibre snob), but was already Thor’s favourite garment in the entire universe. He looked at his boyfriend with a look that would have made any passer-by sick.

“Come here…” he opened his arms.

“You really like it?” said Loki, snuggling up.

“I fucking love it. Why do you say it’s bad luck?”

“There’s something called the Boyfriend Jumper Curse. Common lore in the knitting community would have it that, if you knit a jumper for your boyfriend, the relationship is basically doomed.”

“You’re not supposed to knit anything for your boyfriend?”

“You’re supposed to knit things that don’t take a lot of time and effort, and save the sweaters for, uh…” Loki went quiet.

“For, uh?” prompted Thor.

After a good minute, Loki mumbled, with a thread of a voice. 

“Husband.” He put his chin up and shook it off. “But anyway, sod superstitions, right? They don’t mean anything. And I don’t need to get married to anyone to knit him a fucking jumper, right? I don’t need to get married, period,” he declared. 

Thor gave him an odd look.

“Right.”

There was a strange silence, which Thor killed with a thorough kiss. 

“It’s beautiful, baby. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thor cleared his throat. 

“I have something for you too, but, uuuh… Anyway. Bed?” he said.

“Need a shower first. Got flour and icing sugar fucking everywhere…”

“Everywhere?” repeated Thor, with a growl.

Loki shoved an elbow into his ribs. Thor laughed, slipped one hand under Loki’s shirt, and began to trace circles on the bones of his hips with the tip of his fingers. It got Loki squirming and giggling. He felt really nice, and smelled even better.

“Be careful, goddammit… This sweater needs to be washed by hand… You want to get it covered in flour within the first ten minutes of having it on?” But even as he admonished him, he was offering his neck for a kiss, his eyes closed.

“So,” purred Thor, kissing, “before we clean you up, how about we get you a bit dirtier?”

Loki chuckled.

“We need to be up early tomorrow,” he said, with a sigh, as he kept a solid hold on Thor’s head, so that he didn’t move his mouth away from his skin. 

“So we’ll make it quick,” mumbled Thor, lavishing adoration on Loki’s neck.

“That’s what you always say…”

They didn’t. To be fair, they rarely did.

 

 

A while later, with Loki snoring softly next to him, clinging onto his body like a sloth to his branch, Thor petted his boy’s hair and tried not to be too disappointed. This was not how he had planned to spend this evening. He had thought romantic dinner for two, maybe even candles, nice music, an extended bout of lovemaking, which would start with him kissing the inside of Loki’s wrist, Gomez Addams style, and end up at the other wrist, taking the scenic route. And then, once he had Loki relaxed, satisfied, and his brain floating in happy hormones, Thor was going to…

…Oh, well. 

No, he was not going to do this straight after a meltdown. He didn’t trust Loki’s brain not to twist his offer into something it was not, and ruin the moment. 

Sigh. It would have been sweet to do it on their anniversary, but there would be more days, right? Pretty much all of them, if Thor had his way. 

Then again, Loki just kept fucking repeating that thing, at the smallest chance he got, ‘Don’t need to get married, don’t need to get married’… Was he just saying that, or was he trying to say something else, or…? Fucking hell. He was so confused these days, it wasn’t even funny.

Loki turned on his side and burrowed closer, making a little happy noise. Thor watched him in silence until he fell asleep himself.

 

____________

 

 

(Christmas morning)

 

They were on the porch, in front of the house. Thor carried the biscuit tin, Loki had the apple cake under his arm. He was jumpy and skittish, and looking distinctly not himself in a white button-down shirt, marine blue v-neck sweater, shiny black shoes, and a pair of wool trousers that fitted him like a glove (like a painted on fucking glove). Thor had tried not to show his, um, appreciation for that outfit (which hadn’t been easy, what with Mother Nature having been so outrageously generous with him and all), because Loki thought those clothes made him look like a good boy, respectable and personable, the kind of guy one can introduce to mom and dad. He had tried five different combinations this morning, panicking more and more, until he finally settled on this one, and his boyfriend wouldn’t be the one to tell him that, to him, he looked like the most indecent fantasy of a schoolboy who has been very, very naughty, and is in need a good spanking… (Goddammit, Mother Nature. Thor made himself conjure up in his mind the Republican presidential candidates, which never failed to water down his, uh, enthusiasm.)

“Ok, baby?” he said, giving his boyfriend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Shall we?”

Loki gulped.

“Yeah, ok. Go ahead.”

Thor rang the bell. Frigga was there in under thirty seconds.

“Oh, darling!” she called, giving her son a big hug. She smelled like apples, and that soap, and home. 

She turned to Loki, who was shivering like a leaf, digging his fingers into his boyfriend’s hand.

“Loki,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you at last.” She opened her arms and waited with a bright, warm expression. She didn’t invade his space or push herself on him. 

Loki took a step closer, with big, anxious eyes. He really was not used to this. She put her arms around him, and tightened her embrace little by little; Thor felt Loki’s grip on his hand relax, and felt ecstatic. This was going good. This was going great.

“Come on in, please! Sorry, I’m a mess!” she touched her hair, up in a rushed, messy bun. “Sorry your father and your brother are not here to greet you. I shipped them off to the shops to get a few last minute things. Oh, what’s this! You brought dessert! Thank god, I’ve been so busy, I never got round to it.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much trouble…” said Loki, timid.

“I know, darling, I know. But I got a bit nervous, I’m afraid. I was making the roast, when I realised I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, so I got on with a vegetable lasagne, but then you might be lactose intolerant, or have trouble with gluten, or… In short, I got myself into a bit of a mess! I was so very close to throw it all out the window and order a take out! But what did you bring? It smells so nice! A family recipe?”

“Actually, uh, it’s from the, uh, internet. My family… well, my dad wasn’t into baking. Maybe my mom was, I-I don’t know. She left.”

Frigga didn’t offer pity or commiseration. She nodded and listened, light and easy on the drama.

“Well, then, does that mean you taught yourself to bake?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Just like me, then! My parents were both absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. I grew up on powdered soup and spaghetti loops from a tin,” she said, her tone as cheery as tinkerbells. “So now I’m forever trying to learn new things to cook and bake! I have such a lot of great foodie memories to catch on!”

“C-can I help at all?” offered Loki.

“Oh, that would be great. I haven’t started with the stuffing yet! I think we should have a fire today. Not that we need it - the heating is working fine - but it’s just so pretty, and I do like to see that hearth being used. What do you think?”

“Y-yeah,” said Loki, “that would be very nice.”

“Thor, why don’t you go get some wood from the shed? We’ve got this.”

 

 

When Thor returned to the kitchen half an hour later, once he had fetched the wood and got the fire going, he found his mother and his boyfriend working side by side by the worktop, Loki in a borrowed apron with a floral Liberty pattern, laughing and chatting away about baking and writing, weaving and knitting. They both had that luminous expression of one who feels they’ve found a kindred spirit. 

And Thor just sat by and watched, with a beer close at hand, feeling extremely vindicated. He knew it, he just fucking knew it. How wonderful it was to see the two people he loved most in the world falling in love with each other, before his very eyes. Loki was so engrossed in their chat, he didn’t even have time to roll his eyes at the incredibly foolish, sickeningly sappy expression Thor guessed must be on his own face.

 

 

*

 

 

When Odin and Balder arrived, Loki was feeling so much more confident, so much more cheerful. Which had been Frigga’s plan all along when he sent those two away, Loki was sure of it now. She had prepared it so that he would meet the family in tolerable increments. So that’s where Thor gets his thoughtfulness and his magic touch from…

Odin was a lot shorter than Loki had imagined. Balder, a lot taller.

“It’s an immense pleasure to meet you,” said the old man, a looker even at his silver-haired age, shaking his hand with an iron paw. “Not as great as it was for my son when he first met you, but great nonetheless.”

A short silence followed. Odin’s face was untroubled (unlike Thor’s, who was suffering an incandescent blush), so Loki decided that had been an awkward joke. He laughed politely.

Junior next.

“My my my,” he said, shaking Balder’s hand as he appraised him from head to toe. That boy was fucking stunning! “What do you feed these kids, Frigga?”

Balder managed to grow a couple of inches in every direction, bursting with pride. He was beautiful, but looked kind of… spaced out?

When Loki caught his boyfriend’s dark squint, he grinned impishly, and winked. Yes, Thor had the nerve to get territorial on him, but it only translated into having him assert his alpha-male status in Loki’s life, heart, and loins, by pounding him even harder into the mattress at the first occasion that arose. Fucking win all around. It was certainly not going to discourage Loki from flirting.

Over dinner, they talked about Loki’s writing, about Odin’s life since retiring, about Frigga’s weaving, and how her textile design company had grown from a small cottage industry to an operation employing fifty. They talked about that lovely house and the garden. They talked about their respective holidays last summer, and places they had been to. 

Then, Loki made the mistake of asking Balder what did he want to do in the future while Thor was having a drink.

“I want to be a porn actor!” 

Thor spluttered red wine on the immaculate embroidered tablecloth.

“How does one actually become a porn actor?” said Odin, still with that disconcerting expression, keen but unaffected, not only devoid of humour but kind of… professionally serious? Loki couldn’t quite work him out. Either the man was… well, like that, or this was one of the most subtle forms of trolling he had ever witnessed. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. In any case, it seemed to make Frigga and Thor pretty uncomfortable, if all that heavy forehead-rubbing was anything to go by. Unfortunately for them, Loki had a very, very mischievous streak, and this was firing it up like whoa. He would try his best to behave, but he couldn’t make any promises.

“Well,” said Loki, patting his lips dry after stalling with a drink of water, “at Stark Studios, one usually submits a short resume or cover letter, and a video, uuuuh, introducing oneself, and then, if found eligible, one is called to make a test.” That was delicate enough, wasn’t it?

“What sort of test?” asked Balder.

Thor mumbled “fucksakes” under his breath. Loki pursed his mouth to refrain a smirk.

“Well, one that proves that (harrumph) one can stand the camera and the studio setting and, uh, rise to the occasion, so to speak.”

“Right, because it’s not easy, right? In a studio? With lots of people watching?” insisted Balder.

Loki cleared his throat. Thor was focusing on his plate, tidying up the remaining peas in two neat rows with his knife.

“It can be intimidating, yes,” said Loki. “One gets, um, used to it.”

“But some people like it, right? Do you like it?”

Loki cleared his throat once more.

“Well, I certainly, uh, don’t mind.”

“Did you have to do all that? The cover letter and the video and all?” said Balder, like a dog with a bone.

“Uh, I never did apply. They sought me out.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well, Tony Stark saw me perform with my band and suggested I made a screen test for him.”

“It must have been quite a performance, if Stark thought you had potential for a career in porn!” said Odin, with a bawdy chuckle. “You must take us to see him one day, son!” he added, turning to Thor.

Loki laughed. Right, so that was Odin making a joke. Right?

“Will you help me prepare my video?” said Balder then.

“Thor tells me you are trying to get more professional with the band?” interceded Frigga, clearly attempting to change the subject. Or at least it was clear to Loki…

“So you think I have a shot?” said Balder.

“I still remember before home cinema was invented,” Odin began to ramble, oblivious to her wife and oldest son’s utter agony of embarrassment and discomfort. “One had to go to the theatre to watch porn. There’s something to be said for the collective, public experience, but I guess in the privacy of one’s own home one has more freedom to explore new dimensions. What do kids call them these days, kinks? For example…”

“Thor, darling,” said Frigga, giving up, “please help me take these dirty dishes to the kitchen…”

 

 

*

 

 

“God,” huffed Thor, cheeks still burning, and still flustered, “thanks for the rescue, mom.”

“Loki seems to be coping well… He actually seems to enjoy himself.”

“The little shit,” smiled Thor.

“He’s all you said, and more,” said his mother, with a complicit smile.

“I told you I wasn’t doing him justice.”

“I’m so happy for you, darling,” she pulled him into a hug. “You look so happy, so very much in love, both of you. And if he hasn’t run away yet, after a whole dinner-long exposure to your dad and your brother, I think we can be confident that there’s nothing you two can’t face. You have found a keeper, darling.”

Thor smiled as wide as it was physically possible, maybe a little bit more. 

“So, how did it go, yesterday?” said Frigga, rinsing dishes in the sink. “Did you ask him?”

“No,” Thor’s expression dampened. He explained last evening’s events to his mother.

“Oh. I’m sorry, honey. But do you still want to ask him?”

“I do, but…”

“But?”

“He gets stiff as a board whenever the subject gets mentioned, and he tries to stomp it out as quickly as he possibly can… Like he doesn’t want to hear one word of it. He keeps saying, ‘I don’t need to get married, I don’t need to get married’...”

“Hm,” meditated Frigga. “But you still think it’s something he wants?”

“I used to… I thought he was a little bit old-fashioned like that, you know? That he was into the whole ‘put a ring on it’ kind of philosophy. He’s always a little bit insecure, or a lot, even, and I wanted to make him know that… Well, that he’s the one and only for me, forever… That he’ll always have me, no matter what. And I’ve told him all this, but… but I really thought he’d want it in writing. I don’t know. And he’s made so much progress on all fronts, with his self-esteem and his moods and all, and he’s much more stable, and more open and more confident, you know, with his feelings, and… Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a mistake to pop the question just like that. Maybe we should do this with some precautions, in a controlled, monitored environment. But I really didn’t want for Loki to first hear of this at the therapist’s, you know? I wanted to make it a nice surprise, bit romantic even… I don’t know.”

Frigga had finished up loading up the dishwasher, while Thor had been wrapping and stowing away leftovers. 

“But you’re not just doing this because you think it’s what Loki wants, are you?”

“No! Not at all. I love him so much. Like he was family. Like he’d always been family. Never felt like that before, for anyone. We just click, you know? We rub each other so well… It’s not a chore to look after him or work on getting along and understanding each other better. He is awesome, mom, one in a billion. One in six billion, rather. And I want the world to know. I want him to know. That I’ve found the one that makes it all worth it, and that it’s him.”

Frigga had listened with a tender smile. Her baby, all grown up. 

“You know that I’ve always advocated erring on the side of caution with Loki, with the many challenges you have faced as a couple and as individuals over this last year, but with something like this… Oh, I don’t know, perhaps it’s my inner romantic speaking, but… Oh, just go for it, son. Chance it. With so much love in your heart, I really can’t see any wrong coming from this. Even if he says no.”

 

 

“Awww…!” swooned Loki. “How old was he in this one?”

They had been showing him photo albums for the last hour. It seemed like Loki couldn’t get enough. So far, the experience for Thor had ranged from boring but tolerable (baby), to embarrassing but manageable (toddler), from disturbing (little blonde cherub) to excruciating (chubby pre-teen), to really fucking crucifying (gangly, moody teenager) and simply unendurable (his twenties, no comment). He had always loved the camera, and he had always been a poser. Loki mocked him relentlessly for it. Thor wished he could go back in time and slap his younger selves one after the other, for being such self-aware sluts for attention. 

“We should have been able to predict from his earliest days that he had a career in the porn industry,” noted Odin as they passed a picture of three-year-old Thor running naked at the beach.

“Daaa-aaad!” groaned Thor, hiding his face, steam whistling from his ears.

“What do you m-…?” said Balder. “Oh, right!” (Oh no) “Then so do I! I’ll get my photo albums.”

“No!” barked Thor.

“Yes, indeed. Our boys have gotten the best of us both, haven’t they, Frig?” chuckled Odin. “Your bone structure and gentle disposition, and my…”

Frigga stood up in a whirl.

“Coffee, anyone?”

 

*

 

They exchanged presents over coffee and cake. Loki had knitted a scarf for Odin, a cowl for Balder, and a lace shawl for Frigga. Mom gave them both a hand-woven bed throw in her most recent style, inspired by Norse mythology, Viking carvings, and runic designs. It left Loki speechless. Odin gave Loki a fountain pen, dipped in gold, encrusted with jade and onyx, which also left him speechless.

And then they opened Balder’s presents. Odin got a book on yachting (a common passion), Frigga a golden locket with a photo of her children when they were little, and Thor and Loki got an oblong box, elegantly wrapped in black and silver.

“It’s to share. I hope you think of me when you use it,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.

Thor let Loki do the honours. It was a gorgeous, smooth, silver-finish dildo, with remote control. 

Frigga looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her, a faraway expression that said, “where did I go so wrong”. Thor looked like he wanted the earth to swallow Balder. Odin took the toy out of its black velvet moulded case, and examined it, admiring the sleek design, and fiddling with the remote.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Technology has gone far! In my day…” A jerky startle when the thing suddenly came alive in his hands. The bulbous head vibrated, circled and buzzed merrily in the air. 

“It has eight power settings!” contributed Balder, boastful. “And five different speeds!”

Loki couldn’t help himself. He laughed his ass off. 

 

 

 

The sun had set a while ago, and nobody had so far bothered to turn on the lights, as the December dusk turned into night. The only light came from the TV screen, where It’s a Wonderful Life was on. Everybody dozy and quiet, digesting their dinner, laughing now and then with the jokes they had watched one thousand times. A perfect time for mischief.

Thor was tracing circles in the palm of Loki’s hand. It was delightfully ticklish. Loki turned his head a bit, they held each other’s gaze for a moment. Thor harrumphed, stretched his arms far and wide, and when he put them down again, he managed to disturb the blanket on his lap in such a way that, when he rearranged it again, it fell on Loki’s hand too. Thor grabbed it, and put it on his own lap. He continued stroking ticklish patterns on Loki’s skin.

Loki scooted a bit closer, more of him falling under the blanket. He began to idly stroke Thor’s thigh, up, down, up, down. He saw Thor’s eyes get heavier, and he stroked a bit higher up. Then even higher. Thor gulped, poker-faced, when Loki found his cock and put some pressure on the head. It was already half-hard. Loki continued to apply some gentle, rhythmic pressure, and felt it growing. Thor gulped again. He threw his arms over the back of the couch, and began to pet Loki’s hair. Slow and innocent, except for how Thor knew Loki’s scalp was a massively sensitive erogenous zone. Loki’s eyelids fluttered, his breathing became heavier. He counteracted with slow strokes now along Thor’s shaft, and rhythmic squeezes. It responded, twitching and tugging as it strained against the denim. Thor’s fingers raked deeper into Loki’s scalp, and the fiery shivers dripped down his neck, down his back, and all the way to… Hmmm...

Perhaps Thor thought they were being subtle. Loki had no such illusions. He had noticed that Frigga’s eyes had become obsessively glued to the screen for some time now, as if instead of a beloved classic revisited a hundred times, it was a rapturous thriller. Odin for his part had harrumphed twenty times in the last ten minutes, and as for Balder, he looked like he was going to pull a muscle trying to see without turning his head.

Well, this has been fun, but.

“Oh dear,” said Loki, forcing a yawn. “I’m so tired.”

“Such an emotional day!” said Frigga, with evident relief. “Go to bed at once. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bless.

They said their goodnights. From behind the blanket, which they took upstairs with them, for decency.

 

 

 

“I love your room…” mumbled Loki between kisses, as his boyfriend crowded him against the door, kneading his butt with greedy hands. “Why is the mascot of your football team a horse with eight legs?”

“Later…” grumbled Thor, as he got him out of his sweater and shirt. “God, I’ve been on fucking fire all day… This outfit, baby… I wanted to bend you over my knee…”

Loki laughed.

“So why don’t you…” a sultry whisper.

Thor actually fucking lifted him in his arms, sat on the bed, and yes, fuck, bent him over on his lap.

“Oh my god…” gasped Loki, cock throbbing. “I was fucking joking…”

Thor unbuttoned Loki’s pants and lowered them with one strong tug, exposing half his butt, constricting his cock and balls. Loki hissed, and then moaned.

“You’ve been such a naughty boy today, egging my dad on, flirting with my brother…” said Thor, kneading his ass-cheeks, slipping one hand in his pants from back to front, fumbling with what he found there. “If I wasn’t afraid of the noise, I’d give you a fucking spanking…” 

“Ahhh… fuuuuck…” groaned Loki, humping him. “Do you mean they’ll hear us?”

Thor had wetted his fingers and was probing between his cheeks.

“Wood frame,” he said, rubbing, circling, pushing. “Creaky house.”

Loki laughed, between two languorous moans.

“You can’t fucking tease me like that… Do you mean to tell me we can’t…?”

Thor covered his boyfriend’s mouth with one hand, and slipped one finger inside him.

“I mean to say you have to be quiet…” he whispered.

Loki moaned against the palm of his boyfriend’s hand, who began to finger fuck him at a tortuously slow pace. He took it, bucking his hips, seeking to relieve his cock, squashed in the very narrow space created by his crumpled pants.

“I’ve been wanting to have you like this for hours…” panted Thor. 

“Grmmmblfff…” said Loki against his palm. 

“What was that…? Did you say harder…?” He chuckled darkly, and added another finger.

“Grmblfff!!”

“God, baby, look at you…” He fingered him at a constant pace, driving it deep, sharp movements. 

Loki’s breathing fell into it, whimpering as it built up. Thor’s panting was getting quicker.

“Fuck this,” he gasped, impatiently, “I need to…” He pulled out and manhandled Loki onto the mattress. The metal frame groaned woefully, but they ignored it. They wrestled and squirmed out of their clothes, Thor harder than an iron rod, kissing him with that hunger that reached every time under all the layers Loki kept around himself. He put Loki’s legs over his shoulders, and kissed his way down his body. Loki sunk his nails into Thor’s scalp, guiding him lower, and closed his eyes, panting with anticipation…

Two knocks on the door.

“Guys, you awake?”

Balder. They scrambled to sit decently and cover up, because the door was already opening. 

“Hey, it’s your new scene!” said Balder, walking in, straight for the bed. “It’s just come out and it already has, like, three thousand hits, and counting! Have you seen it?”

“No! And we don’t want to see it!” shouted Thor, but Balder was already making himself comfortable on the bed.

“Nonsense. I do,” said Loki, who was already looking forwards to decades of this game, having fun at the expense of Thor and his kid brother. 

“You have such an incredible body…” commented Balder, checking Loki out unabashedly, both in the little screen of his smartphone, and in the flesh. “You too, Thor,” (same). His tone was purely descriptive, as if he was remarking on the classic theme of the Christmas deco of the set.

“You’re very kind,” said Loki, smiling impishly.

Thor threw himself back on the bed and put a pillow on his face, groaning.

They fast forwarded now and then, to get a quick overview, stopping when something caught their eye.

“Wow, that looks kind of rough…” said Balder, about the exercise on screen. “Doesn’t it hurt? I mean, Thor is so big, and I bet this angle is…”

Thor growled, the sound muffled by the pillow.

“I’m used to it,” said Loki sweetly, kind of big sister-like. “You have to prepare well, and you have to have experience, and then it’s really, really nice.”

“Right. You do seem to be enjoying yourself. Do you think I should try? I mean, I’ve experimented with my own fingers, but…”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” roared Thor, pillow flying across the room. “Shut up, both of you! Balder, out! We’re trying to have some fucking alone grown up time here!”

Balder looked at them both, as if he noticed for the first time that they were naked.

“Oh! Oh, right! Right, I get it.” He gave them what in him passed for a knowing smile. Then his eyes lit up with an idea. “Oh my god! Can I watch?”

“What?” gasped Thor, horrified. “No! Get the fuck out!”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving…” grumbled Balder, totally unfazed, only slightly disappointed. He clearly didn’t understand what the fuss was all about. 

Once by the door, before he closed it, he winked. 

“Have fun! Enjoy my present!”

“Night, night, Balder…” waved Loki.

Thor got up and, since there wasn’t a lock, he blocked the door with a dresser. He stomped back to bed in a right huff.

“Fucking creep,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be like that! He’s very sweet…”

“He gets off watching his own brother fuck other guys. He’s a creep.”

“You forget his brother is you,” argued Loki. “I swear, if you were my brother…”

“Please, stop it.”

Loki chuckled darkly, and let him off the hook. This once.

“Alright then,” he said, slipping his hand under the covers, “where were we…”

Soft and limp was where they were, and very, very sulky, arms crossed over the chest and all, with a deep, grumpy frown.

“Oh my,” said Loki, “seems like I’ve just found out the one thing on this sweet earth that turns you off!”

Thor let out a moody huff, arms still crossed. Loki ignored it, and whispered in his ear.

“Isn’t it lucky that I also know all the buttons that turn you on…?” With a nice squeeze on Thor’s soft cock, he licked into the shell of his ear.

“I fucking can’t, with Balder next door, and his ear glued to the wall,” grumbled Thor.

“Oh, come on, he’s seen your videos anyway…”

“Don’t fucking remind me!”

“Do you really, really not want to?” asked Loki, too astonished to be disappointed. That was a fucking first!

Thor pouted, and shrugged.

“Not that I don’t want to, just…” he gestured to the wall in front, separating them from Balder.

“I have faith in you, baby,” he purred by Thor’s ear, stroking the flesh between Thor’s thighs, rolling his balls in his hand. “There is no way you’ll miss the chance to fuck me in your old bed… The bed you used to wank on as a teenager, fantasizing about the day you’d have somebody real in it… I can almost see you now, with a hand down your shorts, shutting your eyes, daydreaming… squeezing your fist around your cock, fucking into it… Wondering how it might feel, to put it in a nice, hot, tight… oh.” Loki made a delighted sound at the feel of his boyfriend’s cock twitching, coming back to life. He leaned close to his ear again, and whispered, “Roll over.”

Thor obeyed, shoulders loose, eyes closed. Loki straddled his thighs and brushed his fingertips lightly over that glorious back and magnificent butt. Beneath him, Thor squirmed, goosebumps breaking out under Loki’s touch. His breathing was heavy, relaxed.

“What did you fantasize about?” whispered Loki.

“I don’t know… Guys at school… Ewan McGregor… Mr. Heimdall…”

“Who’s that?”

“Art teacher.”

“Oooh, I see,” purred Loki. “Tell me about him.”

Thor had a blissful expression now.

“Coolest, handsomest, hottest, smoothest guy I’d ever seen… Really big, really strong, that rumbling voice… Had a boyfriend… Gorgeous, lean, arty type… They came together to end-of-year fests…” A gruff chuckle. “I wanted them to take me home with them…”

Loki kept stroking with light touches down Thor’s back. He was very hard himself, his erection resting between Thor’s butt cheeks. He wasn’t in a hurry.

“He was the third adult I came out to, after my parents,” added Thor.

“For support and guidance? ‘Please Mr. Heimdall, teach me…’ “ said Loki.

Thor chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I was really after. ... I had this fantasy… That I would tell him about me and he’d… you know, he’d show me the ways of the world… I had done some things by then… You know, hand jobs, blow jobs, rubbing dicks… I had even fucked a guy, but you know, what I really, really wanted… what I used to jerk off to…”

“You wanted to get fucked,” said Loki. He was mindlessly bucking his hips, his cock still rubbing dry between Thor’s cheeks.

“Yeah,” said Thor. “But it scared me too, you know…”

“You wanted someone with experience,” said Loki. “So who was this guy you fucked?”

“Ah, he was a bit older. I only saw him like twice a year, when we went to play at their school… I had a massive crush… The day he told me I could fuck him, god…”

“And did you use protection, Mr. Odinson?” said Loki, severely, putting on a huskier voice.

Thor chuckled.

“Uhhh… Not always…”

Loki slapped his butt. Thor started.

“I am very disappointed,” said Loki, his tone stern and patronising. “I expected better from a clever young man such as yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” said Thor, smiling. “Won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t, because from now on, you’re not going to see anyone until you learn, and I’m going to teach you.”

“Oh my god, Loki…” chuckled Thor. Which earned him another loud smack on the butt. This one left a pink mark.

“Silence,” said Loki. “You are to call me sir or Mr. Heimdall. I’m still your teacher. Show some respect, boy.” 

“Sorry,” mumbled Thor, mouth pursed to refrain a smile.

“Sorry, what.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Much better. Now, be quiet and still.”

He pushed Thor’s thighs slightly apart, sitting between them, and dragged his claws down Thor’s back, then one single fingertip all the way down his spine, to the crack of his ass. Thor had his eyes closed, his breathing heavy, shuddering with anticipation, a frown of concentration to stay in the fantasy and get as much fun out of it as he could.

“Has anyone ever touched you here, boy?” said Loki, circling one fingertip on the spot.

“N-no sir,” said Thor, faking timidity. It made Loki’s cock tug hard.

“Have you experimented on yourself?”

“A little.”

“What have you used? Nothing dangerous, I expect?”

“Only my fingers, sir.”

“That’s a good boy. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give me your hand.” 

Thor held his breath as Loki lifted his arm up to his mouth. The angle was demanding. 

“Beautiful hands…”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How many fingers can you take, boy?”

“Only two, sir.”

Loki slipped two of Thor’s fingers inside his mouth and gave them a thorough, wet suck, which had Thor panting slightly, grinding his crotch against the mattress, his butt clenching beautifully - Loki took full advantage of his front-row seat to enjoy the view. Once he had Thor’s fingers dripping, he led them to the spot.

“Show me.”

“Yes, sir.”

While Loki parted the cheeks, Thor pushed in with one finger, soon breaching the ring of muscle with the confidence and eagerness of experience. After a few thrusts, he added the second. He was humping the mattress, his thighs kept apart by Loki’s body.

“You can go a bit harder, can’t you, boy?”

“Ah… Yes, sir… Like this… sir?”

“Yeah, that’s good… Does that feel good, boy?”

“Y-yeah…”

Loki was so hard he was aching, and his eyes sparkled with humour and lust. This was fucking wonderful. He kept the cheeks parted for Thor, kneading them at leisure, his gaze mesmerised with those fingers hooking in to try and get to the gold. Thor arched up his back for a better reach, his arm straining. 

“Do you ever make yourself come like that?”

“Ahh… No.”

“You need to touch your cock too?”

“Yes… sir…”

“Carry on. Is it good?”

“It’s good sir… But it’s not enough anymore…”

“Oh. Do you wish it was something more… substantial?”

“Yes… yes sir…”

“Do you wish it was a cock?”

“Ahhh… yes. P-please, sir…” driving his fingers faster, stabbing hard.

“Oh, I see…” Loki put on an affable chuckle that came out quite professorly. “Is that what you want?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Have you thought about it?”

“God… yes, sir…”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve thought about your cock, sir… Inside me…”

“Alone in your room? As you fingered yourself?”

“Y-yeah…”

“And did you come, thinking of my cock? Imagining yourself underneath me, as I fucked you… really hard…?”

“God, yes… Yes…” Whimpering as his fingers aroused him but didn’t really stimulate him enough for it to build up.

“Was it very frustrating?”

“Fuck, yes…”

“And now you want the real thing.”

“P-please, sir… please…”

“But that would be extremely untoward…”

“But sir… I want it... nobody needs to know… I won’t tell…”

“Oh, Odinson, how very naughty…”

“Yes sir…” Thor was humping harder. “I’m a very naughty boy… I’m begging you, sir…”

“What would you do for it…”

“God, anything… Sir, I’d do anything.”

“Before you can take a real cock, you still have a lot to learn…”

“Yes sir. Teach me, sir…”

Loki got up from the bed, and went to have a rummage in their bag. 

“Close your eyes, boy. Keep going with your fingers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, Mr. Odinson,” said Loki, with a smack on Thor's butt. “Up, on your knees. Bend over, face on the bed. That’s it. Do not open your eyes. Now, this is important. You have to be able to take it, if you’re ever going to be able to take my cock. Ready, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Loki pushed Balder’s Christmas present gently into Thor’s ass. He had lubed it and warmed it up while Thor got into position. The line of tension along Thor’s back as he felt the intrusion made Loki’s cock leak. His boyfriend was a vision like that, his erection dangling stiff, so heavy and thick, and the base of the toy protruding out of his ass. And if Loki was imagining Balder listening, or better still, Balder in the room with them, standing up in the corner, touching himself as he watched his brother begging and whining with his present up his ass… Well, Thor didn’t need to know.

“How does that feel, Mr. Odinson?”

“Big, sir,” mumbled Thor.

“Too big? Do you need me to get it out?”

“No, sir, I can take it.” He was shifting his butt in the air, aching for stimulation. “Are you going to fuck me with it? Please, sir, I’m desperate…”

“You’re going to be quiet, and let me decide what it is to be done with you, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Loki was panting, and painfully hard himself, but he wanted to make this good, and make it last. He examined the remote in his hand. He wondered what happened if he turned this dial…

A low buzz.

“Ahhhh…!” Thor shook up, clenched his ass and tensed his back, clutching the pillow. He was shivering, whimpering.

“Is that good, Odinson?”

“Hnnnghh… yes, it’s g-good sir… oh god…” he was sucking in sharp breaths, releasing them with a shudder.

Loki kept it on a low setting for some time, watching Thor suffer from the constant understimulation.

“P-please…” gasped Thor… “P-please…”

Loki cranked it up. Thor groaned low and long, humping the air, pre-come pearling on the tip of his neglected cock. Loki put down the remote, and grabbed the toy. He fucked in and out slowly with it. The sound out of Thor’s mouth, fuuuuuck…

“Do you like that, boy?”

Thor was sobbing, still and tense as Loki fucked him slowly. 

“Fuck… sir… Fuuuck… I beg you…”

“What do you want, Mr. Odinson.”

“You…” sobbed Thor. 

“Do you want my cock,” whispered Loki.

“Yes… yes…”

“Ask properly.”

“Oh god… Please, sir… put your cock inside me… Fuck me, sir… Please…”

“Do you promise you won’t tell?”

“God, yes, yes, I swear… Please, sir, fuck me, I need it, fuck me…”

Loki had endured this torture for as long as he possibly could. He turned the thing off, and extracted it gently. He took position behind Thor, and stroked his cock on the crack, checking the lube situation, and just enjoying himself. He was dying to just impale him and go at it like a wild animal, but he was committed to the fantasy. He was pressing the head of his cock on Thor’s hole with his fingers, not slipping it in yet. Thor was squirming, hole fluttering as if trying to suck his cock in.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Mr. Odinson,” he said. “Are you ready? I’ll begin slowly.”

“God, I’m so fucking ready… just fuck me, sir… Go hard, I can take it…”

Loki gave him a solid smack.

“I’ll decide how you are to be fucked,” he said. 

He pushed the head in, and watched Thor biting his bottom lip, teeth sinking in the flesh, eyes pinched shut, a long groan. 

Loki fucked in as if he was doing an actual virgin. A very fucking eager virgin, but a virgin nonetheless. It had Thor whimpering, sobbing, clenching around him, pulling him in. He stood still after he bottomed out. 

“How does that feel, boy,” he whispered.

“So good… So good, sir… You’re so big and thick… god, fuck me please, fuck me… I can’t stand it anymore…”

Loki ground his hips a bit, trying to drag it out. Once he started fucking properly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

“Ah, Mr. Heimdall…” sighed Thor.

Ok, that’s it. Loki grabbed his hips and began to pound him hard.

“That hard enough for you, boy?” he panted.

“Yes, sir… It’s hard, sir… I can take it harder…”

Loki began to snap his hips. Thor was tense from head to toe, holding position, butt in the air. 

“How’s that, boy…”

“Oh, god…” Thor was growling. “S-so good… so good… sir… More… more…”

“Is this… how you… imagined it…?”

“Ah… so much better… I can feel you… so deep inside…”

Loki took it up another notch.

“Ahhh, fuuuuuuck… Yes, yes… Like this… Like this… sir… God, harder, harder…”

“You’re such a… greedy boy… Part your knees wider… let me get deeper…”

“Oh, fuuuuck… Come inside me, sir…”

“...Without... protection?” said Loki, sternly. He smacked him hard, leaving a mark. “Haven’t you... been listening, boy? I’ll have to... teach you a lesson…” He grabbed onto Thor’s shoulders and fucked him even harder, flesh slapping wet and loud. Thor was moaning unabashedly now, having completely forgotten where he was, or who might be listening. Quite flattering, that.

“God… sir… Let me touch myself… sir… I need to come… so bad…”

“I’ll tell you when to come,” whispered Loki.

The mattress was creaking wildly. Anyone downstairs wouldn’t have a doubt what was happening in Thor’s room right now. It spurred Loki on.

“Are you going to… think of me… every time… you take a cock, boy?”

“God, yes, sir… Oh god, oh god, oh god…”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes sir… please, please…”

Loki was right on the verge now.

“You’ve been… such a good boy… Come for me now… come on, come for me, baby…”

Thor’s body seized up, and he burst on the sheets with a long, growly moan, so deliciously strained, so gruff and desperate, Loki nearly came there and then too. He managed to fuck him through it, and keep it up until Thor’s moans thinned down to breathy whimpers.

He wanted to let go so much, but he took his role playing seriously. He pulled out, and jerked himself off, until he came on the crack of Thor’s ass. He gave himself free reign to be as audible as he felt like, mindful of Balder’s enjoyment. He moaned and sighed and whimpered, as he milked his orgasm down to the last jolt of sensation. 

Panting heavily, he gave one last sharp slap to Thor’s butt, still in the air.

“Good boy.”

Thor chuckled darkly, sounding lazy, blissed out.

“Thank you, sir.”

Thor rolled onto his side and watched Loki as he looked inside their bag for the wipes. His eyes were dreamy, dozy. Loki cleaned himself and then his boyfriend.

“You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?” said Thor. "Amazing. Un-fucking-real.”

Loki smiled to himself, feeling not just a bit smug. Thor sounded so satisfyingly undone, so blissfully fucked out. He pulled Loki down for a deep, slow kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

Then Thor stared at him in a funny way, that orgasmic haze dispelled by a sudden frown. 

“What’s wrong?” said Loki.

Thor seemed to be thinking hard, concentrating.

“What?” Loki was beginning to freak out now.

“Oh, fuck it,” mumbled Thor, apparently to himself. He jumped out of bed. “Sit here,” he told him, pushing him down onto the bed. And he ran to his jacket, hanging behind the door. “I was going to wait for the right moment, and do it with some… I don’t know, dignity…” he chuckled, speaking towards the door. He was still naked, his ass was still rosy from the fucking and the slapping, and the air in the room reeked of sex. 

Thor returned, with a hop in his step, every shred of his post-orgasmic haziness gone, acting skittish instead.

“You’re fucking scaring me, Thor…” 

Thor chuckled again, took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, and he went down on one knee.

Loki’s eyes widened in astonishment. Then Thor presented to him what he had gone to fetch in the pocket of his jacket: a delicate rosewood box. He opened it, hands shaking.

“Oh my fucking god…” squeaked Loki, covering his mouth.

It was a sleek, minimalist-style white gold band with an encrusted emerald.

“Loki Barnaby Mortimer Laufeyson…”

“Oh sweet Lord Jesus Christ…”

“…Will you marry me?”

Time seemed to stay still for a moment. The next few seconds felt like an age. Loki took in the scene in front of him: Thor Odinson, the King of the Internet, the man of his dreams, the love of his life, stark bollock naked, hair messed up from the pounding he had just received, shaking like a leaf, down on one knee before him, offering him a goddamn engagement ring.

A crowd of agitated voices surged up in his head, all at once, a jumbled mess Loki couldn’t really keep up with: Well, that must have been a fucking good orgasm… He’s taking the piss… Not broken why fix it… He’s pressured into it… You’re not worth it… Hallucinating… Nobody ever wants to keep you… You selfish prick don’t do that to him… If you really love him…

Shut the fuck up, all of you! 

“Thor, are you… are you sure?”

The look in Thor’s eyes was so sincere, so full of love. There was no room for doubt, fear, or hesitation.

“Yes, I am,” he didn’t sound shaky now. “Loki, please, marry me.”

Loki mouthed like a fish out of water, already crying like an old spinster aunt. 

“YES!” he exclaimed, knees as wobbly as a bowl of jelly. He took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, Thor, I will marry you.”

Thor had tears in his eyes himself, the sappy idiot, as he worked the ring onto his finger. Loki looked at it, in awe.

They stared at each other like a couple of idiots.

“Now what?”

Thor began to laugh. He crushed him in his arms, and they both fell onto the bed, wrapped around each other like extremely cuddly octopuses. 

“Now we get married, and we live happily ever after, starting now,” he said. 

Loki closed his eyes in bliss, hugged tight, and believed him with all his heart.

 

"I bet Tony will ask us to livestream the wedding night," said Loki after a while.

"And the honeymoon too, if we let him."

 

 

Some time later, with Thor still clinging to him with arms and legs as he snored quietly, Loki, too wired to sleep, heard the unequivocal noises of solitary relief being chased behind the wall. He smirked with mischief, and rolled abruptly. Thor stirred awake, with a groan, just as the noises in the other room intensified.

“Oh, shit!” grunted Thor, and buried his head under the pillow, with a string of curses.

Yes, Loki was wide awake, but surprisingly, it wasn’t because of the jumble of voices trying to make him doubt everything and drive him crazy. At the moment there was just one voice, which sounded like it was shaking its head in dismay, but rather fondly, and all it was saying now was, “Loki, you little shit.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

(The next morning)

 

 

Frigga liked to read cookbooks over breakfast. Out of the fine collection she kept right by the breakfast bar, she had picked a baking one, thinking of Loki. Odin, by her side, was sipping coffee and reading the morning papers on his tablet. The house was still and quiet, with a serenity she had come to appreciate when Balder left for college. But she did enjoy the noises of a full house too, and she was hoping Thor and Loki would be staying for a few days yet.

Speaking of house noises.  The floorboards over their heads creaked and groaned. Then they creaked some more. Then they began to creak at a regular pace.

Frigga threw her husband a side glance. He had frozen with the mug hanging in mid air.

“Well,” he said, and harrumphed.

Creaky… creaky… creaky… creaky… creaky…

“Well, repeated Odin. “He has always had a very, uh, healthy libido. Remember how he used to go through his socks? I remember wondering why did he even need sixty pairs, and then it hit me…” He chuckled.

Frigga sighed to herself. She had been so proud of her husband when Thor came out, for proving such a liberal, open-minded, supportive father. Don’t get her wrong, she was still proud that Odin was truly the opposite of a bigot. But she did sometimes almost wish that her husband would be just a tad less… vocal about it?

“I suppose Loki must have quite a considerable sexual appetite himself, if he’s been able to keep up with Thor this last year. I do hope it’s not a problem between them. We must ask them later, perhaps we can offer some advice…”

“We will do no such thing,” said Frigga.

Her husband blinked innocently.

Creaky-creaky-creaky-creaky-creaky…

Frigga tried to block it out. Then, a thought.

“Do you think Loki said yes?” she asked, with a wistful smile.

Creakycreakycreakycreakycreaky…

“I bet he is saying it right now!” said her husband, with a rowdy chuckle.

I give up, thought Frigga. She escaped to the garden, before her husband said anything else.

 

Notes:

I invite you to check this (with kind permission of the gif maker), but how about not in the middle of the workplace/public transport, because NSFW as hell. I find it captures the spirit of this fic beautifully... So flattered to have inspired you to make this, thank you very much!

http://bisexualthors.tumblr.com/post/137738038259/cocky-boys-by-thebookhunter-in-which-thor-and

Notes:

I'm incredifishface on Tumblr, in case you want to come and say hi!