Truly, do you not remember, brother? Loki thinks as he watches Thor sparring with his fellow warriors in the ring below. You kissed me. Held me. You covered my naked body with yours and rutted inside me until we both found completion.

From high in the Western tower, Loki looks down at the combatants wrestling in the dirt. Thor gleams with sweat. From this height Loki could be watching anyone, and so feels safe in staring only at his brother, drinking in the sight of that body he recently knew so well.

Has it truly been wiped from your mind as easily as your spill was wiped from my thighs?

Thor seems to feel his gaze, for he looks right up at him. Their eyes meet. Loki knows he should look away, but he doesn't. Thor watches him as though watching the distant fires of an enemy camp. Cold. Wary. Nothing has changed between them.

Thor is the first to break their gaze, giving his attention to the warrior he has just bested, receiving his congratulations.

Loki watches for another mere moment before departing towards the cool darkness of the catacombs, where he can bury his thoughts in a spell book.


Weeks pass. Loki had thought his cravings, now sated, would lessen in time, but he finds that instead they've only grown. Although he is a master deceiver, the fear lingers that others will surely notice his desire written plainly on his face, so strongly does it burn inside of him.

Enduring yet another night of troubled sleep, Loki quits his chamber to wander the halls, soon finding himself in the comforting stillness of the catacombs once again.

A familiar text is waiting open on the desk for him, and once he has read enough, he stands to try casting the magic therein. Closing his eyes, he chants the rune passage over and over, letting his tongue know the words as his mind begins to grasp the magic.

"There you are." A familiar voice disturbs Loki's thoughts, and the magic dies on his fingertips. He opens his eyes to see his brother standing at the door, holding a torch aloft.

"Thor," says Loki, his momentary peace shattered. The look on his brother's face is unfamiliar, but when Thor takes an unsteady step forward, Loki realizes that he is drunk. Very drunk.

"I looked in your room, but you weren't there," recounts Thor. He mounts his torch on a nearby sconce and closes the door.

Loki's mouth suddenly becomes dry. "Why were you looking for me?" He asks.

Thor doesn't answer, but pushes Loki up against the wall and kisses him hungrily.

All thoughts flee Loki's mind. Thor's kisses taste of spirits much stronger than mead or wine. Though part of Loki is aware that the situation is wrong for so many reasons, he can't bring himself to stop it.

When Thor starts pulling his clothes off, Loki helps, not wishing Thor to rip them to shreds.

This time there is no holding. No gentle touching. Thor pulls Loki to the floor and turns him around so that he is fully presented. Kneeling behind him, Thor takes hold of Loki's hip with one hand, as though preventing escape, while his other hand fumbles to withdraw a stoppered glass vial from a pouch tied to his belt nearby.

Loki hears the cork fall to the ground a few seconds before the vial joins it, breaking in two with a loud crack of glass. Thor mutters a curse but brings his hand down to coat himself with what oil he was able to get. It is enough, for a moment later Thor slides into his brother's entrance in one smooth stroke.

Thor takes him roughly, grunting like an animal. As before, Loki opens for him so easily, it feels as though he was made for this kind of use. The hard slap of Thor's flesh against his buttocks only serves to arouse him more.

Wrapping his arms around Loki, Thor lifts him up to lean flush against Thor's chest. Mouth hot on Loki's ear, he reaches down to take Loki in hand. Though his brother's strokes are clumsy and uneven, Loki spends himself in no great span of time.

Thor bends him back over to continue using him.

Loki droops against the floor and tries not to think too deeply on what they're doing. For though he is sated, he isn't completely satisfied. Loki wanted Thor again, but he didn't want him like this. The air smells of damp and disuse. The stone floor beneath them grinds unpleasantly into his knees and palms. Had Thor only warned him, he could have brought a blanket, prepared a spot that was hidden but not so... dirty.

But had Thor known earlier what he would be doing? Would he remember tomorrow? Was he even aware of what he was doing now? Thor's obvious shame tarnished and cheapened an act that otherwise Loki would have cherished.

"Thor, you bastard," mutters Loki under his breath.

Thor slows his pace and leans over. Loki can feel his breath in puffs on his back.

"Does it hurt?" asks Thor, still moving inside of him.

Yes, but not the way you think. Loki fears saying this will make Thor stop, as he equally fears Thor won't stop even if he says yes. So he replies, "No."

His brother kisses his shoulder blade. "Good. I don't wish to hurt you, I just need... need to..."

Thor's mind is unable to form anymore words, and he finishes his sentence by spilling thickly inside his brother, confirming Loki's long-held suspicion that Thor truly sometimes thinks with his manhood.

With their night's congress now over, Thor clothes himself and departs without another word.