A series of small gasps and whimpers filled the royal chamber, though the noise was dampened somewhat by the drapes of midnight velvet that cascaded from dark wood beams inlaid with gold, effectively concealing from prying eyes the scandalous event that took place.

That this was a spontaneous affair was clear by the prince's state of dishevelled semi-undress; both the embossed jerkin of black leather and the emerald tunic he'd worn to the feast that evening had been forced open to reveal beautiful, snowy flesh utterly untouched by the sword or axe. After all, it was not prudent for a prince who was still so young—and especially one so lacking in physical prowess—to go rushing into battle, and the perfect body so enticingly displayed for consumption proved just such.

To be engulfed by such tight, untouched heat would plunge any man into madness—and indeed the warrior felt himself drowning in this body so pliant and the syrupy voice that so sweetly sung his name, but despaired at the same time that he'd allowed this disgrace to happen.

The particular warrior whose eye was drawn to prince Loki from across the hall that night could see immediately how deprived he was of excitement. That much was clear in the way he'd idly played with his food while staring every so often into space—that is, until the lazy emerald gaze suddenly caught that which had intruded into his little bubble of boredom. The moment they connected his very aura appeared invigorated, a mysterious little smirk playing on his lips that baffled the spectator completely… until he noticed long fingers plunging deep into the pot of honey he'd been supping on with his bread. Slowly and very deliberately leading the intrigued eyes he'd ensnared, Loki had lifted his coated fingers up towards his mouth where he proceeded to lick and suck them clean of the sweet, sticky goo.

Continuing to watch this lewd display sent a shiver of voyeuristic arousal down the spine of the prince's rapt observer, and proved such a distraction that he only offered the vaguest response to his two companions boisterously adjourning to the favoured tavern where they normally drank their nights away. What he was more interested in at this moment, however, was how that slender throat at the head of the hall looked swallowing such a thick substance.

The other revellers—of whom there were many—fortunately were all distracted due to their own merriment; not even the Allfather or his Queen registered their more introverted of their sons slipping quietly from the head table, nor the expectant 'come hither' look he flashed to the lascivious warrior as he rounded the corner, who of course followed suit as subtly as he was physically able with such curious fire in his veins.

Though he was fast, the prince seemed to move with a certain serpentine agility that made him difficult to pursue; he shifted and twisted through darkened corridors and hallways, seeming to blend in so perfectly with the shadows—besides the occasional lance of moonlight that illuminated his golden cuffs, or the circlet that held in perfect place his tousled raven locks—which served only to lead him on in his chase with his anticipation ramped up tenfold.

It seemed entirely too obvious that, in the end, he had been led to Loki's own chamber… and yet the slippery little creature could not be seen or heard, even while the warrior sensed an entirely undisturbed room beyond the elaborate doorway. He cast his eyes in all directions—once, twice, a full turn—then sighed with resignation at having been thoroughly duped by Asgard's master of pranks. Of course that cunning mind would utilize the weaknesses of its victim!

He slumped against the doorframe, trying with all his (rather scant) self-restraint to regulate himself, but a pair of hands planted either side of his head stirred him. Upon opening his eyes, he was met by two pools of jade, eerily vibrant despite their dim surroundings, and a smile so uncharacteristically angelic it was chilling.

"Hello, Fandral," the prince purred, and the other was just able to make out the cloying scent of honey on his chill breath.

"Your Highness," he returned with a polite bow of his head.

Silence made heavy the short space between them, and it seemed for a time that Loki was under some sort of internal conflict. Fandral was aware, to an extent, that the prince was in admiration of him… but particularly since he had grown older he had noticed more with each passing day the furtive glances and lingering touches. He also had found himself watching Loki more and more in turn—his wonderfully smooth, effeminate features, the way those thick lashes framed eyes that constantly shifted in hue as they lazily regarded him, the serpentine elegance in his slender limbs and throat…

Always, the warrior struggled to ignore these notions that plagued him. Salacious though he was, there were certain scandalous acts that even hewould take no pride in committing—defiling a potential future king, who had but recently come of age, being one of them. Or so he told himself. As quickly as Loki had hesitated, whatever thoughts that had raced through his calculating mind had clearly met resolution; sensuously the lithe body pressed flush to the other, hands sliding from the wall to settle on broad shoulders. It was enough to send Fandral into a near-panic given that he'd relied on constant company to keep him in check, and now the trickster had ensnared and led him astray with naught but those alluring eyes.

"I find myself curious, Fandral. Unsatisfied. You know how to have fun… so maybe you could be the one to show me… satisfaction." he whispered, hovering his lips by Fandral's jaw, so dangerously close to kissing that the warrior shuddered with lust. Still he tried to resist, but as he recoiled was met by wide, yearning eyes and lilac pink lips ripe for the taking. "I see how you look at me. So show m-"

Before he could bring that final utterance to completion, Loki was silenced by the mouth crashing hungrily into his own, catching his breath mid-speech; already Fandral's hands had found their way to his waist where they gripped firmly, then dropped down to hoist long legs around his middle. The prince clung and gasped for air, which was soon forced out of him as the warrior slammed him into the heavy door. With minimal force it swung open, and sure enough Loki once more found himself thrust up against the chamber-facing side which closed it, thus sealing their intimacy with a clunk of iron.

Both sets of hands seemed not to know where first to explore, Fandral's caressing and squeezing lithe hips and rear while the prince fondled shoulders and well-groomed locks of gold, all whilst locked in a furious battle of lips and teeth. The trickster was feisty, for sure, and it drove deep into the warrior's basest of instincts whereby he must tame and discipline his prize for such lewd behaviour. A particularly stinging bite from the serpent saw Fandral's hand shooting up to seize a handful of ebony hair and bare his throat with a rough tug. Immediately he attacked the pale flesh and rolled his hips more firmly upwards, forcing from Loki the most delicious little moans.

"You enjoy this treatment, do you my Prince?" The warrior's breath was hot and heavy against bruising skin; tone bereft of the previous respect he reserved for his superiors, his touch also reflected this shift in dynamic. He clawed and groped as if Loki were a piece of meat, and the way those striking eyes rolled back as the prince gasped and nodded frantically in response made him growl softly with animal delight.

This was it. There was no turning back. Both their bodies clearly demanded—nay, needed—the other, and Fandral simply was not strong enough to resist the pull. Supporting Loki with both hands, he carried the prince further into his luxurious room which was thick with the potent scent of incense, and where the very air about them seemed to buzz with the magic and mystery the trickster himself seemed to be draped in.

When the warrior laid his prize down on the bed and stalked forth, it was with kisses laced adoringly up his elegant neck until again he tasted that supple mouth to which he was already addicted, its poison igniting his every nerve with dark desire. Caged beneath all four of Fandral's strong, prowling limbs, Loki sprawled back on the furs, ready for the taking. Only briefly did he draw back, and yet found his body momentarily still as eyes of sky blue greedily observed the pretty way his hair splayed out across grey, the love bites that blossomed in beautiful shades of pink and purple across snow-white flesh, the hooded eyes and parted mouth that were molten with lust, willing him into their depths. The warrior shuddered.

"You are stunning," he whispered, fingertips tracing the bruises before dropping to the fastenings of the prince's attire, elegant buckles and buttons of tarnished gold. Kneeling between Loki's spread thighs, Fandral loosened and parted fabric, revealing yet more perfection that almost made him choke on the lump that formed in his throat. His head dipped, lips offering only ghosting touches as he inhaled Loki's scent-a rich mix of patchouli and other such sweet, smoky perfumes. "Loki..."

Fandral purred the name as though it were some sacred mantra, again and again between kisses to Loki's collarbone, his ribs and his chest. Every so often his teeth scraped over the skin, hinting at his ravenous desire and eliciting shivers from the other; only once the warrior slowly circled a nipple with his tongue did Loki mewl, spurring him on to suck and catch the pert nubs between his teeth just to draw more sweet music from that mouth. The closer their bodies pressed together, the more difficult it was to ignore how hard the prince had become; of course, Fandral's body had also reacted, but in his rapt adoration of Loki's body he hadn't yet lost himself entirely to his urges.

Loki, on the other hand, gasped and squirmed. His flesh was awakened, so sensitive to every touch that even the lightest of caresses saw his spine arching in delight. Ready as he seemed to be, however, once Fandral turned his attention to the laces of his breeches panic flashed in emerald eyes that shot open in an instant, one hand shooting down to halt him in his tracks.

"Fandral, I..." He glanced down, appearing almost shy as he murmured: "I've never... done it like this before."

"You... you jest," Fandral spluttered. Shame mingled uncomfortably with the warrior's need that was verging on unbearable.

"No, I... not with another man, I haven't. I-"

"Speak up quickly, young Loki. My patience has its limits."

"-I want my first time to be with you, Fandral."

At that the warrior froze. Such an admittance spoke of something far deeper than sexual attraction alone... but was this really a rabbit hole he could delve into so recklessly? And with Loki, of all people? Already he was a renowned schemer—but though his reputation had soured somewhat, in this moment he was so beautiful, so vulnerable. All expectation that he was but another in a long line of men he'd seduced had been turned on its head. The sentiment may prove fatal, he knew, but Fandral's features softened nonetheless, and as he cradled Loki's cheek in his palm the trickster nuzzled into it sweetly.

Everything will be fine, he told himself. Besides, who else could say that they'd taken the virginity of a prince of Asgard?

To witness Loki's ashen flesh more intimately was nothing short of dream-like. It had taken several attempts with a healthy dose of lubricant for the prince to comfortably take his fingers, but Fandral had been both gentle and patient; it was beyond worth it to see tension melt away into overwhelmed bliss, to feel him tremble and clench with every kiss he bestowed. That face was intoxicating. His slender neck and shoulders, the effeminate dip of his waist flaring out into a light curve of hips, his long, elegant legs exposed from behind dark leathers... Everything about Loki Odinson was too perfect to be real.

In his lustful haze Fandral hardly registered gentle touches to his face until his and Loki's lips met in another, more lingering kiss.

"I'm ready," Loki whispered thickly, to which Fandral nodded and withdrew his fingers from the tight heat. His manhood twitched in his desperation to truly experience his prince even before he'd loosened his leathers and exposed himself.

With the warrior on his knees between his legs, Loki watched with his mouth agape at the size he would soon be accommodating, to which Fandral's response was a return of his infamous cocky smirk. Though the latter was silent, within viridian eyes lay a silent beg to relieve him of this mounting and desperate tension; by now Loki was surely aching as much as Fandral, judging by the near-constant string of fluid that dribbled liberally from the tip of his flushed cock to his navel. Seeing fit to make use of the breeches still around slim, booted calves, Fandral grabbed the fabric in the middle and hauled them up so that one leg rested on either shoulder while effectively keeping the prince locked in prime position.

"Hopefully you'll find yourself satisfied hereafter," said the warrior lowly, and he kneaded the soft undersides of Loki's thighs with his thumbs before spreading them further apart.

Another generous slathering of lube later Fandral nestled his tip up against Loki's entrance, teasing it slowly wider with only half the head's length pressing inside at any given time, drawing from the prince pained mewls—not just through physical pain, but also through the keen ache to be filled. Squirming down in a futile bid to impale himself fully, Loki was reprimanded with a stern tut, and Fandral even pushed his thighs up into a position yet more undignified, distancing himself thus from that shamelessly needy hole.

"You're going to beg me first to take you, my prince."

"F-Fandral, please—I... I beg you, please fuck me. Fill me. Ruin me," Loki moaned with no apparent shame in the lewdly splayed position that bore him so intimately to the other, his hands even dropping to cup his own backside and expose himself further. "Please, Fandral, I want—need to feel yo-"

Loki was cut off by his own choking gasp as the thick cock he so coveted slid halfway inside of him in an instant, the initial stab of internal pain eased by the slippery coating. Sparks seemed to fly as he stared blankly into space for moments long drawn-out, until his eyes rolled upwards with a breath whose shudder reflected perfectly the relentless hammering of his heart. Each slow buck that followed saw greater resistance from Loki's virgin body to accommodate such girth, but sure enough, several soul-shatteringly forceful thrusts later Fandral was fully sheathed, the act alone reducing them both to panting animals sheened in sweat.

Peering up through matted, straw gold locks, Fandral relished in the sight so decadently adorning the rich bedding: patches of pale skin flush with excitement and his prior rough treatment, hair normally so pristinely kept, tangled and splayed in an inky fan about the prince's beautiful, wanton face.

He truly was beautiful, and in such a captivatingly feminine way. It had always been one of Loki's most striking features, and one that had forever earned him scorn, even as a child. What an innocent little creature he'd once been! He and his brother, watching with awe and admiration when a much younger Warriors Three wove their tales of adventure and chivalry... The way the little prince would pout until Fandral relinquished his broad shoulders for him to ride upon...

A nauseating self-disgust at the fact he was now inside this child who had forced its way unwelcome into his mind (though Loki was no longer such) almost overwhelmed the warrior until long and delicate—but strong—hands cradled his clenched jaw; it turned Fandral's attention back to the present, to the Loki whose eyes were bright with intensity, shifting from hues of spring green to nearly an acidic yellow, urging him on.

The warrior cast a devilish smile down at his prince, and swooped in for the kill.

Loki cried out Fandral's name in the final throes of orgasm, his body impaling itself wildly on the huge girth that had by this point relentlessly hammered his sweet spot in all the positions under the sun—and each was more degradingly sensational than the last. His hips would certainly be bruised by the demanding grip of his lover that kept forcing his body up and down, over and over, until long after the prince's milky seed had painted itself in striking arcs across a chest already decorated with purple love bites.

Finally, with increasingly ragged breaths that culminated in a mighty groan, Fandral reached his peak and unloaded deep inside of Loki's still tightly clenching body. The momentum of his thrusts tailed off gradually, until eventually with a trembling sigh both arms dropped down onto the bed, splayed out with veins raised prominently against muscles finally able to relax.

A low, breathy giggle from above stirred Fandral's vision out of its hazy bliss, bringing slowly into clarity Loki's smirking visage. His teeth flashed subtly in the gloom as he wiggled and bit his lip before lifting himself off of Fandral's softening cock, cum dripping thickly down his thighs and onto the warrior himself when he did so.

In the wake of the initial afterglow, the warrior bolted upright and shoved Loki unceremoniously aside, the younger man bouncing as he collapsed on the bed but laughing nonetheless.

"Whatever is the matter, my handsome warrior?" Loki cooed all too knowingly, and spread his legs wide to reveal his reddened hole that still oozed with Fandral's release. The trickster knew too well what had caused such a panicked response; if found out, for whatever reason, it would disgrace both the warrior and the royal family. Fandral could even be sentenced—and rather severely, too, depending on how terribly ashamed the Allfather found the whole affair—but Loki had wanted this for so long, he was willing to risk a lot to get it. Bringing crippling dishonour upon his father was definitely a bonus…

Having received no response, Loki watched with satisfaction while the warrior fumbled for his clothing, stumbling somewhat in his hurry to get far away from the royal chamber—and as soon as possible. After rushing over to the door only to curse under his breath (must be the evening guard) and close it again, he slumped back onto the bed in frustration, head in hands. Loki, clothed barely in a flowing robe of sheer black gossamer, vocalised in a sarcastically pitying manner and nestled himself between the warrior's legs, arms draping about his broad shoulders.

"Come now, darling, you've been known on many occasions to make your escape through a maiden's window..." He carded slender fingers through locks of blond, receiving a stony look in return. "Granted, this one is rather high up... Oh dear. What should we do?"

Fandral grunted and curled his arms around Loki's nicely curved hips, hands clinging to his waist as he buried his face into the supple, exposed flesh just above his navel. Again, desire to claim the prince's beautiful and receptive body for his own clashed sharply in his chest with concern and guilt opposing it... but that mischievous charm had an irresistible way of drawing Fandral in.

What if this was… more than lust...?

After some moments of silent embracing, the sound of multiple locks clicking shut could be heard—a spell, undoubtedly. He took the ensuing straddling of Loki upon his lap as permission to hurl him back down onto the bed with a sharp lurch of his body, and bury himself between those long, inviting legs once more. Fandral ate up the partially nude body with renewed fervour in his eyes and, in the wake of this inadvisable disregard for consequence, managed a sly grin in return to his prince's former mocking.

"Well-" He smirked deviously, loosening the laces of his breeches with wicked intent. "-I''ve also been known to go for days, didn't you know?~"

Notes:

Not sure if this will be a complete one off, or the beginning of something bigger. Either way, thank you for reading!