Loki smirks and gasps into the other's mouth, threading long, still clever fingers into soft, blonde hair.
If you betray me, I will kill you, Thor said and looked convincing, determined, but that means nothing at all. Thor wouldn't kill the man he still thinks of as a brother, and Loki knows that just as well as he knows that, should the chance arise, he would kill Thor, and the other knows it too. Because that is the final, the gravest difference between them, and the one thing which brings them together again and again, as well.
And Loki answered, when do we start? and words changed to actions, changed to, let me help you with this, changed to let me serve you, brother, changed to everything he knew Thor wanted to hear and never thought of hearing again. And those words changed again, to actions, to fingers in the other's hair and lips on Loki's mouth, on a thigh sliding between his and a thick, strong arm holding him in place against the wall of his cage.
For a cage it is, even if he Allfather would rather have it called a prison, Thor rather forget about its existence.
"Did you miss me?", Loki asks quietly, with a cruel chuckle hiding just beneath his words and kisses Thor again, making him think about his answer before he gives it. Not that it would change it, apparently, for the thunderer growls, moves his hand from the wall to Loki's throat in what seems to only be a heartbeat, not squeezing yet, just holding him steady. "You should be glad I did not kill you when I had the chance to", Thor replies when Loki lets him and obviously doesn't understand why the other smirks. And that although it is so obvious, for Thor just admitted what Loki knew all along: There is no way the other would harm him.
That is not the answer Loki gives, however, instead arches off the wall, even if it makes it harder to breathe, rubbing up against Thor's thigh, and when he gasps this time, the sound is genuine. "Of course. I am forever in your debt."
He punctuates every word with a breathless kiss, a touch he knows Thor has longed for.
No matter how much he might despise Thor, he cannot deny that the other is good at this, better than he ought to be, maybe even better than Loki would want him to be, for the lips and teeth on his neck make his heart race and his skin tingle, and it slowly gets harder to think, too.
He could give in to it- oh, it would be the easiest thing to do so - but Loki refuses to even think about it, instead brings one hand to the buckles of Thor's unfamiliar suit of armour, clawing at them until they give way. And now it's the thunderer's turn to chuckle, because the action must have seemed far more desperate than Loki realised - and of course also far more desperate than he truly is.
"Instead of laughing, why don't you help me?", he asks and slides a hand underneath the piece of armour he has partly loosened, feeling the warmth of Thor's flesh beneath the tunic still separating them. The touch brings the desired reaction too, another growl which holds no more amusement, and then a hand joining his, unbuckling the clasps with more grace than Loki would have believed these broad fingers could possess.
It takes Thor little less than a few seconds to remove the offending piece of armour, but instead of going on, taking off more and more as Loki expected, the other stops and instead goes back to sucking another mark on his skin...and Loki is surprised to find that he wants Thor to remove the rest as well, not for manipulation, but because he longs for the feeling of skin against skin, hard muscles flexing under his touch and, blood thrumming beneath his hands.
It's the long time he has been locked away, he figures and tries to tear at least the fabric of the other's tunic as a feeble substitute for what he truly wants.
It doesn't work, and it doesn't even surprise Loki, there is too little intent behind the motion, but apparently it is still enough to amuse Thor; the other chuckles against his skin and Loki tugs on his hair to get at least a little bit of revenge, even if it means that the grip Thor still has around his throat gets tighten by a fraction. A fraction which is enough to make breathing harder, nonetheless.
"I would stop if I were you", Loki says, pulls Thor's head back by his hair, even if it means risking to have his complete air supply cut off. "I won't be of any help if you choke me to death now."
And again, Thor proves he wouldn't kill him, since the grip around his neck loosens, but before Loki can take a breath, there are lips covering his, kissing him roughly, almost violently, with clashing teeth and battling tongues as if there was a war to be fought between the two of them.
Loki is more than prepared to give back every bit of what Thor is pushing on him, and so he tears at the fabric of the other's tunic again, with more force, and this time it works; the thin material rips and Loki slides his hand inside without hesitation, over Thor's chest and down to his stomach, tearing at the tunic whenever it denies him further access until the garment is completely and utterly destroyed. Good, he thinks, not even bothering to remove what is left of the garment.
And even better, Thor doesn't seem to mind, just continues kissing him, forcing the air from Loki's lungs one second at a time until the trickster has to break away as not to pass out. It's a victory for Thor, perhaps, but a small one, hardly even worth that Loki curls his fingers and drives his nails into the other's flesh.
He does it nonetheless, surely leaving red streaks all across the other's tanned skin. It's a mark of some sort and Loki knows that it's something he shouldn't like so much, not even when it lets a gasp escape from Thor's lips, tinted with the edges of pain.
As if to make himself forget about it, Loki lifts one leg up to wrap around his former brother's waist, grinning against Thor's lips when the other lets one hand fall down to his side so he can grasp and hold it up, forcing Loki closer until their hips are pressed flush against each other. It's good, the pressure and the friction when Thor continues kissing him, rocking him back and fro, Loki's cock trapped between them and in his loose pants; for a second, he stops to wonder if Thor can feel how hard he is through his own garments. Not that it would mean a thing; after all Loki hasn't had anything but his own hand to relieve the tension for what feels like centuries now, and every touch would make him ache for more after such torture, especially when it's so rough it borders on violence, when it's demanding and sure…and Thor does, after all, know just how to touch, how to kiss Loki, has had all the time in the world to find out about what makes his body sing with pleasure.
The other doesn't seem to have any qualm about using that knowledge, either, instead lets the hand around Loki's neck loosen its grip further, until it is travelling down the trickster's chest, ripping his tunic apart on its way. And while Loki used to scold his brother for behaviour of this kind (too fond of his clothes to have them ruined by such a brute's hands), he doesn't complain this time, not caring about the garment, which can't do more than remind him of his imprisonment.
With his tunic in shreds, Loki expects Thor's lips to follow, to leave a myriad of marks on the pale skin of his chest, like he used to, but they don't, instead start kissing and nibbling down his neck and leaving Loki's mouth free to let out a stream of embarrassingly wanton sounds, gasps and moans, which make Thor chuckle. His hand doesn't stay to scratch or pinch or touch either, instead starts on removing his pants with just the same lack of grace or patience, tearing at the fabric until it gives way, slides down Loki's hips; Thor does not even spare time to set his leg down, just rips the rest of the garment off with one fluid motion.
Loki tries to convince himself he minds, but fails.
Five seconds after the last bits of Loki's pants have fallen down, Loki loses the floor under his feet, since Thor isn't finished with him yet, picks him up and doesn't even wait until Loki has time to wrap his legs around the other's waist properly, instead does it for him. Even if Thor is clearly more than just able to carry his weight, it's no position Loki is overly comfortable with, but trying to voice his objections fails, because only a moment passes, then Thor's lips are covering his own, his tongue working on stealing the very breath out of Loki's lungs.
The trickster retaliates, bites at Thor's bottom lip until he can taste blood, copper and salt and a hint of desperation on his tongue when he licks into the other's mouth. His thighs are clamped tight around Thor's hips, and Loki curses that Thor has yet to take off his trousers, the hard leather and the cold pieces of metal more than just uncomfortable against his newly-bared skin.
He could pull away from the kiss, maybe mouth at Thor's neck or collarbone, demand that the other takes off as much clothing as he ripped from Loki's body, but instead he pulls away just enough to mutter a few syllables, lips sliding against Thor's cheek, and relish in the surprised sound falling from the thunderer's lips when his clothes disappear around him.
And maybe, Thor really has changed, in his time on Midgard, in the fight for it, in the time afterwards, which Loki cannot account for except for the few visits in between, for the expected threatening growl never comes, the rage, instead Thor starts kissing his neck, stepping forward a little so he can press Loki's back against the wall. Like this, pressed flushed against each other, it's impossible not to feel just how aroused the other is already, his cock sliding hot and hard against Loki's own erection, and oh, Loki remembers this.
They spent their first night together like this, pressed against each other, rutting and grinding each other, moaning and laughing quietly against each other's neck, hands exploring every bit of skin they could reach, and Loki allows himself to indulge in the memories for a moment before he brushes them aside. Instead, he concentrates on them now, on the small rolls of Thor's hips, of the friction they create, on the other's lips tracing his jawline.
It's strange how easily they fall into old patterns, Loki thinks and ducks his head so he can bite down hard into Thor's shoulder, so close to drawing blood. The other will wake up tomorrow, marks and scratches and the red imprints of nails splattered all over his body, and Loki likes the thought; and with some surprise, he notices that he likes another thought too: that he will bear his share of bruises and bite marks as well.
The thought makes everything feel more urgent for a reason Loki cannot fathom, but suddenly, he is bucking into every roll of Thor's hips, sucking a mark over the bite in the other's shoulder. And of course, the thunderer notices, full lips pressing against Loki's shoulder and curling upwards.
"Feeling desperate?", Thor asks and Loki considers moving his head so that he can rip Thor's throat out with his teeth, but then the other rolls his hips again, stronger this time, making Loki gasp and forget about maiming him for just long enough.
He meets the other's thrust halfway, creates even more friction, and Thor moans, the sound bringing a smile to Loki's face. "No more than you, I think", he answers and tightens his legs around Thor's waist to give himself a little more leverage.
Loki leans in, sucks on a barely visible mark on Thor's neck until it is beautifully dark before he pulls back just enough so he can whisper a few words into the other's ear. "You should hurry, though, or the guards might find us. I doubt you want them to see their future king like this."
Thor doesn't answer, just growls deep in his throat, but Loki takes that just like he would have taken words, because no matter what it is Thor says, he puts Loki down with any pretence of gentleness, spins him around and presses him against the wall.
It's smooth and cool against his heated skin, Thor's hand calloused and hot between his shoulder blades, pushing until Loki has problems breathing. His ribs feel as if they are about to break and crumble under the pressure, but Loki doesn't make a sound, even if there is one perched under his chin, waiting to be released, a soft, pained gasp or groan.
He pushes it away, stuffs it down his throat until he can't taste it on his lips anymore.
If it's intentional, Loki doesn't know, but Thor does his best to distract him from the pain, leaning down to bite into his shoulder, following the line to his throat and sucking on the already forming bruises covering the pale skin. Loki lets him for a minute, a second, then tries to pull away, but doesn't manage to, because there are fingers pushing against his lips, parting them easily until Thor can slide them into his mouth, not giving Loki time to suck on them, to curl his tongue around the broad digits, but thrusting them deep only to pull them out again, repeating his actions.
A broken little sound escapes his lips and for a second, Loki hates himself for it, until the thunderer shoves his fingers even further down his throat, making him choke and forget about everything else for a moment.
It doesn't take long until Thor considers his fingers properly wetted, pulling them free as suddenly as he thrust them into Loki's mouth in the first place. If there was any way, the trickster would look unaffected, or at least give his best, but his breathes are coming in huffs, his muscles straining when the other finally eases the pressure he is putting on Loki's back, letting him pull back from the wall.
He's hurting, but he doesn't mind it at all, just pushes back against Thor, more aware than ever of how hard he is, how every of his nerves seems to be on fire.
There is an insult on the tip of Loki's tongue, waiting to be spat out, to fuel Thor's anger and his own rage, but there is no time to do so, the thunderer kicking his legs apart, now-slick fingers finding his entrance without hesitance.
Thor isn't gentle, far from it, plunging two thick fingers into Loki until he can feel bruised knuckles rubbing against his sensitive flesh, the sensation, the pain and stretch and burn making Loki arch off the wall, groaning. He hasn't expected tenderness and sweet kisses, but it's still surprising when the thunderer doesn't even stop to give him a second's time to adjust to the new feeling , the sudden fullness, and Loki loves it, loves the pain and loves how raw he feels, how it's painfully obvious that Thor is feeling the same way.
"I'm not – ah!- going to break", Loki manages to force out between parted lips a between two thrusts which make him feel as if he was about to crumble, shatter, fall to pieces. It's too much already, because the callouses on Thor's fingers drag roughly over the rim of his hole, the thick knuckles massaging his inner walls in a way which could be pleasurable if he had any time to concentrate on it, the minimal lubrication making Loki feel every sensation twice as intensely, but when the other growls, picks up his rhythm and fucks his fingers inside him faster, harder, rougher, Loki feels himself growing dizzy with arousal.
There is something almost painfully familiar about this battle of dominance, this fight, and Loki pushes back against Thor's fingers to show the other that he has not yet been defeated, his hips canting up slightly without Loki meaning to, making sharp nails drag across his prostate and sending a delicious wave of pain-pleasure through his entire body.
Loki is always in control, and yet he feels it slipping now, the sensation almost intense enough to make him forget about the situation he is in, at least until Thor chuckles darkly against his skin, pulls his fingers out to thrust them back as hard as before if not harder, the other's second hand slowly making its way down until it can spread his cheeks apart further, giving Thor even better access.
"What is it?", Thor asks, his voice hoarse and his breath hot against Loki's cool skin, the teasing note in his voice not lost on the trickster, "I thought I couldn't break you."
It's infuriating, and although Loki could lose himself in this, the sparks of pleasure when Thor brushes over his prostate, the friction the steady, hard thrusts are causing against his hole, but instead he pulls himself back, meets Thor's next thrust halfway, his breath catching in his throat.
"Oh, dear brother, you couldn't if you tried."
It's a challenge so blunt that Loki is almost ashamed of it, but Thor is beautifully responsive, beautifully easy to manipulate; growls and adds a third finger to the two already fucking him without further lubrication.
This time, the pain is far more intense, every inch of strong fingers sliding inside him stretching his hole further and further is making Loki gasp and groan until he considers putting a stop to all of this for a second, to just mutter a spell and have himself slick and ready for Thor to use in the matter of a moment, but in the end, this is far more tempting than any kind of comfort could ever be. Because this is what he has missed while being locked away, a myriad of sensations washing over him, pain and pleasure and love and hate, all at once, making him feel alive more than he has in almost an eternity.
So instead he pushes back until the other's fingers are buried deep inside him, filling him up in a way Loki can remember faintly from almost forgotten times. Not even now, Thor grants him a moment to get used to the stretch, instead starts fucking him again right away, forcing the last bit of air out of Loki's lungs.
"If this is how you treat your lovers, it's no wonder your mortal woman isn't here with you", he says with one of his last breaths, feels Thor's anger grow hotter, fiercer. It's perfect, just how it's perfect when the other pushes his fingers inside him again, twists his wrist and curls them upwards, pushing them directly against his prostate. A soft, needy mewl gets stuck in Loki's throat as he tries to swallow it, threatening to escape when Thor starts to rub against it, massaging it until Loki can feel the pounding of his blood in his ears, loud and overwhelming, the pleasure of the other's actions clinging to every of his breaths and making his toes curl.
"I have never treated anyone like I treat you", comes the answer and for once, Loki is not sure how to react, how to feel, because the words could be threatening as much as they could be affectionate. The thunderer doesn't give him much time to think, though, one last, hard press against his prostate, which almost has Loki writhing before he withdraws his fingers altogether, leaving the trickster to feel open and used in the most pleasurable way, empty in the absolute worst.
Loki wants to respond that he has never hated anyone the way he hates Thor, but doesn't, because in the end, it won't make a difference.
Again, Thor presses him against the wall until Loki knows that there will be bruises splattered over his chest and hips the next day, blunt fingers pressing against his lips, and the trickster considers it briefly, taking Thor's cock with nothing more than spit to ease the way, thinks about the pain and the friction, thinks about how it might leave bleeding, how he would be sore tomorrow. And he wants it, wants all of that so much it makes him ache, and yet he turns his head as much as possible, not allowing Thor's fingers entrance to mutter a few syllables instead, feeling his insides being coated by cold slickness.
It's too little still, only the minimal amount necessary to let him get out of here undamaged, but still enough to make sure he will still be able to walk the next day.
"There is a far easier way for this, you brute", he gasps under his breath, resisting the urge to try and turn around and make the other feel as breathless as he is. Even if he managed before Thor had time to stop him, he'd only be spun around and pressed face-first against the wall again, Loki knows that much.
So instead, he waits, feels the thunderer's fingers move back to his stretched, abused hole and circling it, a low, satisfying groan falling from Thor's lips at the slight hint of wetness.
"Wanton slut", the other murmurs almost to himself and Loki feels his cock twitch at the husky tone, the crude choice of words.
"You wouldn't want me any other way", he replies maybe a fraction of a second too late, rocks his hips back until the tips of Thor's finger slide into him, taking away the terrible empty feeling for a few moments. The other doesn't reply and Loki did not expect him too - disagreeing would be too harsh for his loving once-brother, admitting the trickster's words hold truth would be too forgiving. Instead Thor thrusts his fingers deep another time, the now-slick slide even better than the rough one before, callousness dragging over his insides, his prostate.
Without thinking, Loki lets his head fall forward, his eyes slipping shut so he can focus more on the sensation, the delicious stretch when Thor decides Loki's treatment to still be too gentle; spreads three thick fingers out as much as possible, until the trickster can feel his body protesting, his mind singing with pleasure.
"If you don't fuck me, then at least step back and let me do it myself", he finally manages to get past his lips, hands clutching uselessly at the smooth walls, thighs trembling when Thor pushes his fingers impossibly deep. The only reply is another thrust, hard and rough and perfect, before the thunderer pulls his fingers out for what Loki hopes is the last time, sinking sharp teeth into the trickster's shoulder to make up for it.
When he was younger, a lifetime ago, he would have begged by now, asked Thor to please please please have mercy, but that time is long since gone, even if unfortunately not forgotten, so Loki only grits his teeth, forces himself to wait until the other finally lines his cock up with the trickster's waiting hole, the blunt pressure enough to make Loki feel a little dizzy.
It's been so long.
Half he expects Thor to push in slowly, to make him wait for ever inch until he is mindless with want, but instead the thunderer takes a deep breath before he thrusts into him, not stopping until his cock is completely buried inside of Loki,.
How he has managed not to remember how perfectly Thor has always filled him up, how hot his cock always feels inside him, Loki doesn't know, because right now it feels as if he could never forget it again, the pressure inside him, the friction when the thunderer pulls out again, leaving him empty, the heat radiating from him and warming up even Loki's cold body.
It still hurts, of course, because Loki has not allowed the spell to stretch him further, but that only makes it better, the pain heightening the pleasure like it has always done.
He's always liked it, and for a moment, Loki wonders if the other remembers that too, because Thor doesn't waste a second of time, instead starts fucking him mercilessly.
Loki is not even sure what he would prefer, to have Thor still under his spell so much that the thunderer does everything to please him, or to have reduced Thor to this state, where even his royal upbringing doesn't stop him from just taking what he wants. In any way, it's a small victory he has won over the other, and it makes the next thrust even sweeter
The rhythm Thor sets is as hard as Loki has expected, every single thrust rocking him against the wall, his own cock trapped painfully hard against the wall, while Thor is wrecking him, the friction against the rim of his hole delicious and painful at the same time.
The rhythm Thor sets is as hard as Loki has expected, every single thrust rocking him against the wall, his own cock trapped painfully hard against the wall, while Thor's is wrecking him, the friction against the rim of his hole delicious and painful at the same time.
The pain slowly starts to subside, even if Loki doesn't want it to, first losing its sting until it is nothing but a dull, soft ache, then even fading to less than that, only a slight hint of discomfort accompanying every of the thunderer's angry, punishing thrusts. All the while, Thor's hands are everywhere, sliding down his back and over his shoulders, closing around his neck or cupping his cheek from behind, maddeningly distracting no matter what their purpose, their destination, mostly because the other has always been like this, touching and kissing and sucking during their time together. Loki almost wants to comment on it, the vile, poisonous words ready on his tongue, waiting to be spit out, when Thor changes the course of his exploring hands once more, reaching around Loki's slender body to guide them down his stomach, over pale skin and hard, protruding bones until they have almost reached his cock, framing it from both sides.
For a moment, the trickster almost wants to thank Thor for being so considerate, for trying to push him over the brink before the other has the chance to, but then Thor's hands stop, just stop, splayed on his abdomen while Thor continues to fuck him so hard Loki has to use his hands to keep his head from banging against the wall. A soft whine escapes him before he can stop it, a pitiful sound not fit for a trickster, a former prince, a traitor, but Thor doesn't hear it over the sound of skin against skin.
A few more moments pass which are almost enough to drive Loki out of his mind, the thick shaft of Thor's cock stretching and filling him in a way he has almost forgotten after being on his own for so long, his hole clenching down around it ever so often when the other fucks into him with especially much force, sending sparks of pleasure travelling through his entire body. And then, without warning, Thor uses his hands to pull Loki back against him with the next thrust, the force doubling and the pleasure being multiplied tenfold with the pressure just above his cock making Loki's inside curl and clench in the most delicious way. Faintly, he wonders if Thor can feel his own cock pounding into him against his palms.
He does it again with the next thrust, pushing and pulling until Loki feels used in the most delicious, wonderful way, his head snapping back to release a long, low mewl when Thor changes the angle his cock is fucking into the trickster, making the head drag directly across Loki's prostate.
It's like nothing else he can remember ever feeling, the hot, fierce pleasure spreading out through him drowning out everything else, rage, resentment, love, until Loki can do nothing but feel, feel and try to push back against his former brother, needing more of this. Thor gives it, and gives it gladly judging from the sound the thunderer is making, fingertips digging into Loki's flesh and making him dizzy when he is pulled back the next time, his mouth open to release an endless stream of moans and gasps and curses.
How he is doing it, keeping the perfect angle over such a long time, Loki doesn't understand, but Thor hardly misses his prostate after that first, wonderful thrust, making sure not to let the pleasure ebb away, instead adding more and more of it until the trickster feels as if he was floating.
And then something happens which hasn't happened in ages, in millennia, and which is not supposed to happen ever again, because Loki is not a blushing virgin anymore who is fucked by some handsome prince in a hidden corner of the palace, but between the thrusts of Thor's cock, the pulling of his hands, the way his cock sometimes brushes over the smooth wall, Loki can feel his orgasm approaching, not a wave but a flood of pleasure overrunning him without warning, drowning him in cries and moans and more sensations than his body can hold.
His toes are curling in his undignified slipper, his head thrown back and his whole body tensed up as tendrils of pleasure reach out and curl themselves around every limb, every bone and muscle, every fibre of Loki's being, sparks tingling on his skin as Thor continues fucking him through it, not minding the come which splatters on his still hands.
It's overwhelming and seemingly lasts forever, his vision only slowly restoring itself when the pleasure starts to subside, delicious aftershocks still wrecking Loki's body; for once it's good that the thunderer's arms are around him, because Loki is not sure if his knees would manage to support him without them.
Thor stops without the trickster saying a word, pulling out and Loki is thankful for it, since his hole, his insides, his entire body is still so oversensitive, but before he can do more than catch a breath, he is spun around, for the first time taking in Thor's face.
The other is as flushed as Loki knows he is too, lips bitten red and pupils blown so wide that he would not be able to make out their colour if he didn't already know it. It's beautiful, seeing the golden prince of Asgard reduced to this, but Loki hardly has a moment to take it in, to gloat, before he is picked up again by strong arms, his back pushed against the wall.
Any protest waiting on Loki's lips dies there as soon as Thor plunges his cock into his gaping, slick hole again, ignoring the muffled, pained gasp the action is drawing from the trickster. He should hate it, he knows that much, but there is something thrilling about this, about being used for the other's pleasure, so Loki spreads his legs wider; Thor rewards him with a groan and a thrust which is so hard he can feel it in his bones.
Again, the rhythm the thunderer sets is merciless, intent on taking his pleasure and less on giving any, but even so, Loki can feel familiar heat start to curl in his lower stomach, where he is sure will be bruises left from the other's fingers and palms the next day. It must be the long time without any contact, no matter if mental or physical, which makes him so responsive to stimulation, but right now, there is hardly anything Loki cares about less, reaching down to wrap long, shaking fingers around his soft cock and starting to stroke himself back to hardness. His own come slicks up his hands, making the slide easier, even better.
He catches Thor's gaze, surprise hidden behind the lust, and smirks back, quickening the pace of his strokes to match the thunderer's thrusts.
"Wouldn't want you to have all the fun, would I?", he answers the unspoken question, hating how wrecked and hoarse his voice sounds, but loving that Thor is too far gone to even try to answer. Instead, the other changes the angle of his hips again, managing to hit Loki's prostate again.
Before, it was pure pleasure being sparked at the least bit of contact with that sweet, sweet spot inside him, but now there is pain mingling with it, Loki's body protesting against the way he is treating it, but the trickster could not care less.
Knowing just what a little bit of pain does to his former brother, Loki brings one hand to Thor's shoulders, as if trying to hold himself up, digging his nails deeply into the other's flesh, then dragging his fingers down over tanned skin, leaving red, angry lines. It works beautifully, Thor's thrusts speeding up, pounding into the abused gland hidden inside of Loki until he is not sure where Thor ends and he begins, his hand still furiously working over his cock, coaxing it to full hardness in the matter of minutes.
It's a good thing that Thor has always had more stamina than it is good for him, or most of his partners, even if now his thrusts are starting to become sloppier, his rhythm faltering slightly from time to time. He is close, Loki can see it, so he drags his thumb across the head of his cock to coax another few pleasurable tingles from his overstimulated body, feeling precome mixing with his release from before.
With as much of a smirk as he can muster in this situation, Loki clenches down around Thor, making the other groan and lose his rhythm completely, just blindly fucking into Loki know.
His fingers grip more tightly, the tips pressing against the spot just beneath the head, following the thick, pulsing vein on the underside of his cock, and with a few more thrusts of Thor inside him, wrangling more delicious pain-pleasure from his prostate, Loki pushes himself over the edge another time.
The orgasm is less intense than the last one, merely a tidal wave crashing down on him until he cannot breathe, his hand stroking him through it. Thor comes a few moments afterwards, fucking him through it; his thrusts prolonging Loki's orgasm until it feels like an eternity, for there is nothing better than feeling the thunderer truly lose control and all inhibitions, thrusting into his body without hesitation until he has pumped the last bit of hot seed into the trickster's body.
They stay like this for a few more moments, Loki's body slowly starting to ache, his hole sore and leaking come and Thor breathing hotly against his neck until the other lowers him to the ground, making sure to keep Loki upright even after he is standing on his own legs. It should be insulting, but Loki is far too tired to care.
When he looks up, his eyes still unfocussed, Thor is watching him, an unreadable expression written all across his face.
"I know", he starts, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, collect his thoughts, "This changes…"
Nothing, Loki wants to say, because there is nothing it could change, but Thor doesn't let him speak, interrupts him with a voice as hoarse as Loki's and yet soften.
"Everything."