This was not - what he had meant to do.
They were brothers. He loved Loki. He had wanted Loki to know that, feel it, have it seared into him if necessary. Anything it took to prove this, anything it took to make their family whole again. That was all. He had never wanted - had never so much as thought about doing anything like...
It had only been a kiss. Harder and more desperate than anything he had pressed upon Loki in the past, but still only a kiss.
Except that then Loki rolled beneath him, then there were fingers in his hair, and when he felt his brother's tongue flicker against his lips-
An old instinct had made him pause; Thor could not have named it, in that moment. A thousand years of memories, a thousand years to learn to be wary whenever Loki wanted anything, for any reason, from anyone. But he hadn't been able to hold onto it.
Somehow his hands found Loki's hips, somehow he had turned his head to pry his brother's mouth open, and then the kiss was nothing like they had ever shared, and it felt - it shouldn't have felt - so good. His brother's lips and teeth and tongue crushed to his, their bodies cleaved together, and then Loki drew on his tongue and Thor felt it deep in his belly, visceral response he should never, never, never have had to bloodkin.
But we aren't, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
And that, more than anything else, was what made him wrench back just enough to break the kiss.
Neither of them spoke, and the sound of his own breathing slowly filled his ears. Ragged. Hungry. He had never been so aware of his own skin, every inch of it awake and electric. Thor knew he needed to pull away, but the thought was fuzzy, unfocused, and he hesitated. He did not - want to. Letting go of Loki now would have been... he wasn't sure, could not quite think clearly enough to be sure over the pounding of his own heart, the throb of blood in his ears, and...
Dimly, Thor realized that he was - aroused, that he could feel that same pulse between his thighs, that Loki must feel it with their bodies pressed so tightly together, and this was wrong, so horribly wrong, he had to stop, had to leave this tower and perhaps never come back-
-but then he felt Loki's fingers tightening in his hair, and suddenly Thor was aware of his brother, too, breathing roughly. Chest heaving. Aware of his brother's - response to this, jutting warmly into his belly. Then Loki opened his eyes, slowly, and their bright green was glossy but clear, with none of the confusion he felt in them; none of his desperate shame.
"Don't stop now," Loki said, and it was so soft, so faintly husky, but each word carved deeper and deeper until his brother's voice was so far beneath his skin he could feel it in his bones. When Loki shifted against him, hip dragging over hip, it was all he could do to clench his teeth on the groan.
He meant to draw back again, further this time. He wasn't sure whether he'd managed it. They still seemed so close, Loki's scent all over his skin, Loki's slender body rising up between his legs. His vision had gone dark around the edges, and it was difficult to focus on anything but the swell of his own hot blood. "Loki..." It should have been a protest, but even to his own ears it sounded only raw and urgent.
So he shouldn't have been surprised when Loki instead tightened his grip, held him in place, and said in a voice that was breathless with want and vibrant with pleasure, "Stop your thinking, fool. There's no harm in this."
The words went through him, like a knife, like so many of his brother's words had that night - only this time there was no pain, only a heady sense of relief.
No harm?
Thor had never wanted so badly to believe anything in his life. His skin, his blood, was singing with the nearness, the pressure of another body against his; it had been - such a long year, since he had promised himself to...
And that thought should have quelled him, should have at least dulled the rush of blood in his veins or cleared his vision a little, but even her name seemed hazy, distant as a dream while Loki's every smallest shift, every hushed word, made him ache.
This was not a fight he would win.
He could not seem to catch his breath, but Thor reached up and caught his brother's jaw instead. "I do love you," he said in a rush. He needed it said. He could not let himself go, let himself give into this, without saying it. He hoped Loki knew he meant it. Because if his brother was wrong, if nothing like this could ever be harmless - he wanted those to be his last words on the matter, before he gave in to the temptation of Loki's parted lips and so-slightly cool skin, surrendered to the carnal intensity of unthought.
He thought Loki might have paused, then, at his words; but if he had it was still only a moment before the other god's arms wound yet more tightly around him, dragging him closer, dragging him under, and he couldn't mind. Even when Loki bit him, almost hard enough to split the skin, he couldn't. All Thor knew was his own hands on his brother's hips, wrenching him up higher on the wall so that he could duck his head and press his lips again and again to the smooth soft skin of jaw, throat, ear, all the flesh he wanted to touch and taste. He felt Loki lifting his legs, hooking them over his hips, and then - then grinding against him, damn.
"Haah..." Loki tipped his head back, exposing more of his neck, and the sound of his voice was a shuddering purr that drove the last remnants of thought from Thor's mind. "Yes."
Thor knew there were hands at his back, clever fingers moving deftly to unlace and unfasten his ornamental tunic, and then the feeling of bare skin as his brother pried the garment from his body, but it did nothing except spur him on and he found his teeth baring against his brother's skin. Another grind, his this time, and as his vision swam all he could think was, How can it feel so good, even just like this-
Vaguely he was aware of shifting back at some point, just enough to let his brother shove the tunic back over his head and shoulders, but he was much more intent on Loki's body, his own kisses sharp and starving as he went from throat to collar bones, and then Loki's clothing began to be in his way and only a whisper in the back of his mind to be careful (a whisper meant for someone else, but he could not quite think who) kept him from rending the fabric in frustration.
It was the only shred of reason he seemed able to keep hold of.
Loki's laughter was ticklish on his skin. "I would lend my efforts," he murmured, "but - I fear it may be a pointless endeavor." As he stroked his fingers through Thor's hair, Thor felt the silver chain at the nape of his neck, so cold on his hot skin.
He met his brother's eyes, and they were lidded, the green dark with anticipation and amusement and lazy curiosity even though they were both still so entangled and he could feel the other god's desire.
What now, Brother? He could hear the words as surely as if Loki had spoken them, finely taunting. Would he tear the clothing or remove the chain or stop, here, and end this madness now.
The choice was obvious. What he had to do was clear. And just as surely, he knew he would never be able to, not with this fire consuming everything in him.
So instead, Thor fisted his hand in his brother's tunic and yanked it up, above his ribs, over his head; and then down, over his shoulders, over his arms, until the fabric was bunched around the manacles. A double binding for his brother's wrists. Blood pounded in his head as he ducked to kiss the pale expanse of so-slightly cool skin, bone, slender muscle, and he heard himself saying in an alien voice, "I will - manage, somehow."
More laughter, so breathless. "You had better keep up with me," Loki said, and then he arched his back against the wall and they were rubbing together and he was gasping at the contact, even through their clothing.
Thor shuddered again, and this time it felt as if it went deep, deep down to the very core of him. He ratcheted back in once more, pinned Loki to the wall behind him, and in quick sharp movements pulled his brother's trousers down over his hips to bare his brother's need. He was aware of Loki bracing himself on his shoulders, warm breath feathering unsteadily through his hair, and then with blind fingers he found...
The flesh was startlingly hot beneath his fingers, and so very hard. He could feel the slickness of his brother's seed, smeared at the tip. Thor curled his fingers slowly - around it, and his own body gave a sympathetic throb.
That little voice in the back of his head was whispering again to be careful, but Loki's response - Loki's hiss of barely-restrained pleasure and the way he rocked his hips eagerly into the grip, Loki's voice saying urgently, "Ah, yes, touch me, I want your hands... all over me, please," and Loki's teeth on the shell of his ear - drowned it out until he could no longer make sense of the words.
His body was not his own. One hand on Loki's ass leashed him closer, and there he rubbed between his brother's legs and into his own wrist, grinding quickly with his attention torn between each burst of pleasure and the higher, fuller moan in his ear as Loki met it, as Loki spread his legs wider, as Loki invited more of everything, but it was loudest when he scraped his teeth over the other god's throat.
And still Thor found himself regretting that he only had so many hands.
It was almost enough, just like that. Almost enough just to touch him, to pump his brother's cock with firm strokes and listen to his eager, hungry response.
Almost. Except that then Loki turned his head just enough, sucked Thor's earlobe into his mouth and curved his tongue around it and shoved back with another groan. "It's..." Breathless and right against his damp skin. "It's driving me crazy not to be able to touch you, hnn... I can't even - return this wonderful favor, make you feel this good..."
Almost was not good enough, not for the desperate pulse of heat that sent right between his legs, swelling him so hard it hurt.
Thor's palm and fingers were sticky now from his brother's seed and his own sweat. He used it to glide them faster and canted Loki's hips back, higher. "Perhaps," he uttered, very thickly, "I like driving you - crazy."
"Perhaps - I like it too."
The words twisted in his belly, deeply and darkly appealing, and Thor cinched his eyes shut but could not ignore the sudden tremor in his hands as he tore at the leather pants that were all that remained of his own clothing. He needed them off, needed them out of the way, needed air on his skin and Loki's skin on his skin. Still he struggled to reply, breathless: "That sounds - very - unfortunate for... you."
When he lifted his head, he found that his brother's eyes were fixed on his hands, where they worked to unlace the front of his pants, and so intent was his stare that Thor half expected to feel it like heat. Then Loki purred, "I... disagree," and it was all Thor could do not to finish right there.
"How - like you," he managed thickly, and then they were both naked and all he wanted was to rut against his brother's hip and squeeze his brother's cock until pleasure streaked them both.
He was rewarded with another low moan from Loki's swollen lips, but after a few more grinds he felt a flicker of tongue against his ear, heard a shallow intake of breath. "Do you - need some help, Brother?" Loki asked, sickly-sweet. "If you can't - figure out the way of it, I can teach you..."
And in spite of everything he thought he had learned over the last year, that stilled him; that rankled, ever so slightly. It had been close to five hundred years since last he'd left a woman anything but satisfied, and as far as he knew Loki had never even...
He would make his little brother pay for this, so help him, but now was not the moment. Thor took a breath. "Do it, then," he said, taut but still betrayingly ragged at the edges. "Do it and be done with it."
To his credit Loki did not laugh, but there was dark amusement again in his eyes as he leaned back, as he slung his bound arms behind Thor's neck and steadied himself against the wall and - and shifted his hips, bringing himself easily and unerringly into place so that Thor had to hiss at the flare of sensation, the sensitive tip of his cock dragging over...
"In," his brother told him, so heated that though Thor glanced up sharply he already knew this was no game.
Loki wanted this, as surely as he had wanted any of it.
So Thor sucked a breath in through his teeth, shut his eyes tightly, and just - shoved up, not nearly as hard as he could have but still firmly, trusting that his brother's body would yield and that somehow this would make them both
feel
damn, damn, damn it was so tight, so hot, gripping his flesh, stealing his breath, stealing what little had remained of his ability to think with raw friction. He was very dimly aware of Loki kissing him again, hungrily, and one or both of them groaning into the other's mouth; just as dimly aware of Loki breaking the kiss again with a hissed, "Yes..." and then he had his arms beneath his brother's legs, lifting him, adjusting their positions mindlessly so that he would have more leverage when he drew back and slammed home again, sheathing himself in Loki's body and driving them both powerfully into the wall.
In, in, in, in. Their bodies locked together, his brother's voice breaking with each heady thrust, his brother's fingers cutting into his shoulders - his brother's tight channel shivering around him, his brother's hot breath panting against his cheek...
Already Thor felt the strain, had to struggle to leash himself in so that he could keep - going, had to fight against the white that wanted to swallow his vision with pleasure and release.
It was - it was so good, too good, too tight rasping perfectly over the skin of his cock, and Thor shuddered, flushed, because just as sweet were the rising sounds of Loki's need.
In, in, inininin, fast and faster, blinding-
And then his brother stiffened against him, arched away from the wall, and with a desperate hitch of breath came, thick and plentiful, painting his belly and their chests, and Thor himself went very still, breathing wetly, drinking deeply of it.
He had held on for so long to the face of a sheer cliff, nothing to aid him but his own tenacity, and when Loki pulsed one final time and then shuddered, easing, parted lips for his husky breaths, Thor found that he had little choice but to let go.
Again, there was nothing between them but the sounds of each struggle for air. It took Thor what felt like an eternity before the ardor, already draining away, faded enough to let him think.
I should... apologize.
The thought drifted to him hazily, and - immediately Thor decided against it. No. It brought a slow flush to his face but if he believed nothing else his brother ever said to him, then he believed this: Loki had wanted that. As much as he... but even just thinking those words made him feel sick with shame.
By the Nine, what had he done.
Then Loki shifted beneath him, let out a contented breath, and everything seemed - clearer, somehow.
Thor mastered exhausted muscles and pulled back just enough to feel himself slip from his brother's body. The friction on his sensitive skin was just as distracting as his numb, distant horror; that it made the other god gasp tipped the scales in its favor.
"...Loki," he murmured, and had no idea what else to say.
Lazily, his brother opened his eyes. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, before he asked, very simply: "Are you going to put me down now?"
Thor blinked, and - realized abruptly that he still had his brother pinned to the wall, thighs bent and spread. Slowly, he took another step back, lowering Loki until he could get his own feet under him again. It was blind work, because he could not look away from Loki's face.
At last he managed, "...Are you - all right?"
That prompted a faint chuckle, though Thor could see his legs were not quite steady under him. "When have I - ever given you a true answer to that question, Thor?"
The use of his name sounded... deliberate. Not brothers any longer. And that, more than anything else, made Thor's chest tight.
He drew breath. It shivered out of him again with no words spoken. He tried again. "I maintain... hope." But it came out heavier than he had intended. So true, and in so many ways.
"Ever the optimist." Loki straightened, carefully, and somehow even with his lips swollen and his skin splattered with the evidence of his own pleasure and his thighs streaked with the evidence of Thor's, he was relatively composed. He tilted his head, as if in thought, and - smiled.
"I am... well."
Thor wished he could have believed it. He swallowed another breath, and then could hold his peace no longer. "It isn't... This isn't-"
This is not why I brought you home! Even in his mind, the words were unconvincing. It is love, not only rutting. How could he ever expect Loki to believe that now?
Loki seemed to study his face. "Are you going to apologize for this?" he asked patiently.
This time, Thor hesitated, but there was still no denying that part of it. The part where his brother - his brother - had curled around him and rocked into every thrust and moaned so hungrily in his ear.
He found his lips dry. "...Not for this, no."
"Then I think we understood each other well enough."
With finality.
Thor let his own mouth click shut, and watched from what felt like a very great distance as his brother moved away from the wall. Watched as his brother bent to retrieve Thor's brilliant red cape, struggling only a little with his own tunic still tangled around his wrists. Watched as his brother stood again, crumpled the fine fabric into a mass, and-
Abruptly, he saw what Loki meant to do with it, and then his hand was on the other god's wrist before he could stop himself.
Loki raised his eyebrows innocently, and Thor felt a small swell of embarrassment at his own impulse.
Still an Odinson, wasn't he. Still a Prince of Asgard. Proud and indignant, to think his brother might soil some vestige of his regalia with the seed they had both spent.
"-There are facilities here, are there not?" he asked, soft, as if with softness he could take back that moment. "To bathe?" Given the tower's original purpose, there should have been.
For a moment, Loki only smiled at him, small and mocking. But he made no move to reclaim his wrist or finish what he had started with the cape, and all he said was, "I cannot use them myself. The chains must be unbound for me to remove what little remains of my clothing."
"Then you won't use them yourself," Thor said at once.
Another impulse, but this idea he warmed to immediately. Yes. They could - no, should share a bath, just as they had when they were children. The only thing missing would be the attendants, for royalty never bathed alone. And it would be... natural. Normal.
Perhaps the world would even right itself from this perilous tilt, before they were all spilled from it into the void.
The smile on his brother's lips widened, if anything, but he lifted a hand and gestured to an adjoining room Thor had not had the presence of mind to notice before. "Of course," he said, and only now did he release the cape in a ripple of crimson.
Like everything else in the northeast tower, the bathing room was inviting and luxurious: white marble and gold, shimmering translucent drapes, high vaulted ceilings. Thor stayed on the threshold, taking in every detail of it, tracing the veins in the marble with his eyes, looking anywhere but at Loki, who moved to kneel beside the long tub and take up the task of filling it.
A dozen golden spouts came to life, and steam hissed from the water quickly, a familiar spiced scent rising into the air.
Otherwise, there was silence.
There would always be silence, Thor realized then. Loki would not permit his apology, and they would never speak of this again. It would be - almost as if it had never happened.
Almost.
All he wanted was to forget, as quickly as possible. To forget the dark desire in his brother's eyes, the goading words and whispered encouragement and the nails, digging painfully into his back. To forget the intensity that had been - so different from anything he had ever shared with fleeting maidens in his youth, or even with Sif, who had scoffed at any effort to be gentle with her. So different from what he'd imagined it would be like with Jane, who he'd intended to...
Jane. Thor shut his eyes until they burned. He hadn't-
And then his brother's voice cut into his thoughts smoothly: "If you would?"
Thor opened his eyes again, startled, and was only more so to find Loki upright now, less than a handspan from him, wrists held out in offering. Expecting - needing - his full attention.
It took him a moment to understand; a moment to realize that the running water had fallen silent, that the tub was filled to brimming, and that the only obstacle remaining to their bath was this, a tangle of cloth trapped by silver chains.
Silver chains that were, of course, spelled. Easily put on; not so easily removed. For his other baths, Loki had doubtlessly had someone here to lift the spell just long enough so that he could be helped out of his tunic. A sorcerer - accompanied by several stout warriors, perhaps, just in case.
The elements of the storm came easily to Thor and always had, but... when it came to subtler forms of magic, incantations and true spells, he had never had any particular talent or interest - and even less patience. What his brother had developed so carefully, he had discarded, the same way that so much of Asgard did. He had assumed that someday, when he was old and too feeble to wield Mjolnir with the same strength, then perhaps he would learn the art of avoiding combat.
But the thought of calling for assistance now, so that someone else could cast the spell to remove his brother's chains, made his cheeks burn.
Loki was still waiting patiently, his pale forearms still outstretched, and after a moment Thor took them in his hands, lowering his gaze to the green and black. Though the fine cloth had seen far better days, far better years, he knew it as one of his brother's favorite tunics. A tunic which might yet be restored, unless he did irrevocable damage to it now.
For a few seconds more, Thor studied the garment. Then he took a seam between his hands and slowly, carefully, ripped.
Which made Loki sigh, but when he looked up there was also the beginnings of a reluctant smile on the other god's lips. "...Nice work."
Thor felt a surge of relief, and matched the smile. He knew that what he was doing was a poor alternative to removing the chains, that by Loki's standards his inability to work so simple a spell might have seemed pitiful. His brother did not have to compliment him on it; did not have to recognize this for an effort to spare his property instead of an insult or an attack. "I am trying," he agreed, and took some of the insult on himself: "But I do not think I'll ever be a seamstress."
"...Well," Loki said, his voice so light, "it does require something in the way of nimble fingers." He cast a pointed look down at Thor's hands on his own.
Now there was the edge of a familiar argument here. Thor smiled a little more and shook his head. "I'm afraid I sacrificed nimble for brute strength," he admitted.
Since he had conceded his brother's usual point, of course Loki had to argue against it. "Afraid, nothing. They are the hands of a warrior," he said staunchly, and Thor felt the other god's fingers curling very slightly over his palms. "As I'm sure Lady Sif will tell you, mending is not the task of a warrior."
Thor stifled a laugh, because she would have, and something in his chest unclenched. "You're full of flattery today, aren't you, Brother," he said, before his mind caught up with his mouth.
The word tasted strange, stranger even than it had sounded in his private thoughts, and he hesitated with the tunic very nearly free, gripped with sudden dread.
But Loki continued to surprise him. He returned without pause, "My brother needed little flattery, especially when it came to his prowess as a warrior," and when the last of the fabric came loose in his hands, Thor let it fall.
His fingers were so numb, he was not sure he would have been able to do anything else.
I will not be a fool, he told himself, hating the words, hating the necessity, hating that he could not believe what he most sorely wished to. I will not unbind him yet. But his eyes lingered on the silver length of the chain as Loki reached up to run fingers through his own hair, and the word yet was not the warning it should have been.
"I - appreciate that, I suppose," he found himself saying, and was not quite sure what he was meant to be appreciating.
Loki tipped his head a little in vague acknowledgment, but said nothing, only turned to the bath and sank into the water with a pleased sound, shifting to lean back against the marble wall of it.
Silence again.
This time, Thor did not let himself think, only moved to follow his brother into the water and hoped that its heat would seep into his bones and soothe the deep ache that went beyond muscle. He let himself shut his eyes and listened to the sounds of Loki shifting beside him, the water lapping at them softly.
He could not have said how much time passed before the other god declared in a sigh, "I swear that no one in Asgard appreciates a good bath," but he had relaxed enough that there was no resistance in him to the well of amusement it provoked.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, because it was perfectly ridiculous. Everyone in Asgard appreciated a good bath, even the heartiest of warriors who would later insist they missed the mud and sweat and blood that no longer clung to their newly-cleansed skin.
"There's always crowds, loud conversations and laughter, wrestling..." Loki sounded comfortably long-suffering, and Thor listened to the soft splash of water as he brought it up to rinse his face. "You can't get a moment's peace."
"Well," Thor said, because all of that was certainly true, but none of it had occurred to him before. "They are social events. Perhaps you'd enjoy a Midgard bath better," he added, and found that in spite of everything he rather... liked that idea. Loki had seen so little of Earth, in their time there. He hadn't had a chance to learn...
His brother made a dismissive noise. "Yes, I've heard of the custom of 'showering'."
And this, too, was - comfortable. Innocent disdain, with none of the pain - the resentment - that he'd heard on the Bifrost. "They have baths, too," Thor promised him, opening his eyes. "Small tubs in their own homes."
Evidently, that was not a thing Loki had heard of. "How... small?" he asked with a slight frown, skimming one hand thoughtfully down his side, pausing to finger some of his own flesh.
Through the clear, mostly-smooth water, Thor could see a purpling bruise. Some of his merriment drained away.
"-Large enough for a man," he forced himself to reply, "but only just."
Loki grimaced, and Thor wished he could be sure it was only at that thought. "Sounds unpleasant. I think this one is a fair size," he added, with a gesture at the tub around them that could have easily held at least two dozen people.
"It was not the best fit," Thor admitted, slightly wry.
As he watched, Loki found another bruise with his fingers and pressed down on it intently. This one did not appear to hurt him, though the color of it was ugly. "Then I suppose you should relax and enjoy the space provided in Asgard - just about everywhere."
Thor said, "I will make it a point of my time here," and did not lift his eyes from his brother's flesh. How had he not noticed this before? How had he not looked?
There were no cuts, no bruises, on Loki's face, so he had assumed - but those had been shallow, half-healed already by the time they took the Tesseract between them. These bruises were fading, but it had been days now. Days of being a prisoner in Asgard.
Had he been denied healing stones?
It was - preposterous. Even the most vile enemies had their wounds tended to after they were taken prisoner. Thor might have liked to call it high-minded, but he knew it was more than that; there was, after all, no honor to be gained from inflicting pain upon a helpless opponent.
And with his magic bound, Loki was helpless.
The idea that they had left him to heal from such injuries in his own time-
But then Loki drew a sudden sharp breath, and Thor bridled his emotions. There would be time enough later for indignation, for confronting guards and the nobles at the trial and their father. For now, he turned in the water and moved to close the distance between Loki and himself.
"Loki," he said, and realized that he'd used this tone a hundred times, a thousand times, as they grew up together. It was the tone of an older brother bringing his younger brother to task. "What was that sound?"
And Loki reacted to the tone exactly as he always had, looking away from him even as he answered sullenly, "Some of your mortal friends leave more impressive marks than others."
Thor caught a breath and held it for a moment. "Some of them have very good aim," he said, but his ire was not for anyone of Midgard. They had been fighting for their lives and their world in the field of battle. Here, he was imprisoned, and this was not how Asgard treated its prisoners. He settled his hand over his brother's, a wordless urge to lift it and let him see.
Loki let him move the hand, but said, "I don't need fussing."
"I do not call this fussing," Thor told him absently. He could mostly see it now, and it looked like - a burn. "Stand so that I might see it fully."
His brother did, and Thor thought he said something like, "Well, I shouldn't like to see that, then," but could not focus on the words.
The burn spread from just under his rib cage to just above his hip, and all the flesh around the inflammation was bruised. Just the sight of it made his stomach turn.
"...This looks - painful," he said softly.
Loki sighed, as if exasperated. "So am I to expect that with this same injury, you would be mewling in pain?"
"What I would do is hardly relevant," Thor retorted, still not looking up at him, "and does not make it any less painful." Whether or not he would have been too much a proud fool to admit to it, an injury like this...
He did not expect the hand on his neck, or the fingers that gripped his chin and bade him to look his brother in the eye. He especially did not expect the cold expression he found there, or Loki's tight, controlled voice as he said, "You will not treat me as a weakling, Thor Odinson."
Thor faltered despite himself. Was that- Of course that was how Loki saw it. He asked, quiet, "If you saw me wounded, you would not care to look it over?"
"I would-" Loki paused, his eyes shifting briefly from Thor's, then finished swiftly, "-never insult you by concerning myself with the pain of so minor a wound."
Slowly, Thor let himself ease back in the tub, turning away from the burn and all the bruises and all the things he'd done when they were children - all the things Asgard had done to them both - to make his brother say and think such things. "Compassion would not insult me," he said quietly.
And I did not mean to insult you.
A tap dripped, slowly, and the sound of it echoed off the walls.
Then Loki said in a low murmur, "I didn't seem so hindered by it earlier, did I?"
There was something - strange about the words, the tone. Thor looked at him. "Earlier?" he repeated.
"I think I'm a little offended," his brother said, poison green through his dark lashes. "Was I so forgettable? You were quick enough to manhandle my body to your pleasing, and I never recall flinching."
The world tilted again sharply and Thor could feel the earth giving way beneath his feet. "I did not..." He wet his lips, was only vaguely aware of his own hand tightening against the smooth edge of the bath. "I did not touch you there."
He was mostly sure it was true. It was hard to be sure of anything, with Loki looking at him like that.
"It only takes one unthinking turn to aggravate a wound," the other god said lightly. "But it is a meaningless wound."
And then he slid closer, the water breaking on his shoulders as he reached out a hand to - rest it, on the swell of Thor's bicep.
"It could not stop me from what I want," he uttered, eyes so bright and so dark all at once, like fell fire.
For his part, Thor held very still. He was not sure he could have done anything else. "-No, of course not." Not when his brother was determined, certainly.
Loki's eyes lidded further, gaze slipping from his face to his throat, his chest, all of him beneath the water, all of it lingering. Thor would have sworn he could feel it like a physical touch, stroking over his skin, tracing his pulse beneath it, and his heart was beating so fast he thought-
Then Loki looked away, saying, "Tell me something you liked about the human realm," and for a very long moment Thor could not make sense of his meaning.
The world had begun to right itself, but he felt more off balance than ever.
Thor turned his attention to the water, ordered every muscle to relax, and sank more deeply into the tub. He was more aware than he liked of his brother's thumb as it slipped away, but he could - manage this much.
Something - he'd liked about the human realm. Something harmless, something small, something that would not remind Loki (remind himself) of...
Eventually, Thor offered quietly, "They have these things called - 'malls'. They are like a marketplace, only indoors, and with... differing music piping into each individual store. They sell a wide variety of things, more things than anyone could possibly need."
"And," Loki said slowly, raising his eyebrows, "the part that you like about them is...?"
He was comically skeptical. If Thor had been of a mood to laugh, he would have. Instead, he smiled a faint smile and told the water, "Between the floors, to make traveling easier, there were these lifts, of course - but there were also automatic staircases. They are called 'escalators', because they speed your progress considerably." He had figured out that part on his own, and his lips turned up a little higher. "I enjoyed riding them."
Jane had been exasperated, too, just as Loki was now, but amused as well, and they had spent an hour just walking the mall in large circles to ride them.
It was a good memory.
"An automatic staircase," Loki said, sounding exceedingly dubious.
Thor smiled even more. "Yes," he said unabashedly. "The stairs are individual pieces that somehow roll uphill and then flatten out to be fed into a machine and taken back down again, in an endless loop."
Now his brother, too, looked amused. "Is that not the laziest invention ever created? What need could anyone possibly have for stairs that are easier than they already are, by virtue of existing?"
"You have the option of either riding them, or walking up them, which gets you to the floor above more quickly," Thor told him. "I witnessed many who would take heavy bags of purchases and set them on those stairs."
"Blocking those who might wish to walk past them," Loki retorted, "because they have purchased more than they could reasonably carry." But he was smiling. "...How many times did you ride these 'escalators'?"
Thor thought back, counting in his mind. "Until I understood them thoroughly," he said at last.
His brother shook his head, but the tone of his voice was teasing. "I think I understand your fascination with Midgard now."
This time, Thor was able to laugh. "They are marvelously inventive," he replied, "to make up for their physical shortcomings."
"...Yes," Loki said. "Necessity is the mother of invention, I believe they say."
Something in his tone had gone off, but when Thor turned to look at him in case his face was more revealing, the other god flicked water in his eyes, and suddenly this bath was exactly what he had wanted it to be.
"What was that for?" Thor demanded, laughing again.
"You deserved it," his brother said aloofly, making an unnecessary show of how unconcerned he was now that his apparent debt had been settled.
How many times had they splashed each other in the baths, how many times had they swam wildly and wet the floors and sent their attendants into a tizzy? Making more than enough noise between just the two of them for one of Loki's detested crowds?
These, too, were good memories.
"Did I, now," Thor said, shifting slowly to his feet, crouched beneath the water.
Loki made an airy gesture. "It's usually been the case," he said.
"I see," Thor said.
And then he threw himself bodily across the distance between them and drove his little brother beneath the bath's still surface in an enormous splash. He had a fleeting glimpse of Loki's bright green eyes widening with shock, the beginnings of a protest, and then they were both underwater and the other god was flailing beneath him. Thor was quick to let him go, rising up out of the water again with a roar of triumphant laughter.
"And you deserved that," he said, pushing his drenched hair out of his face.
"You ox," Loki said in a gasp as he followed, half-laughing and half-indignant. "How was that even a proportionate response?"
"Who said anything about proportionate, Brother?" Thor replied. He had never been less sorry for anything in his life, and he circled his arms around Loki's slender body, drawing him up against his chest in a headlock.
He might have thought his brother stiffened, then, but in the next instant he was struggling to squirm loose. It did him no good; it never had. "This is ridiculous," he complained breathlessly. "Brute force will get you nowhere, you know that-"
"On the contrary," Thor told him, smiling so broadly that his face ached. "It seems to be getting me exactly where I wanted most to be."
This time, Loki went completely still. His voice was husky when he said, "Then - I have to wonder what you want with me like this."
And that-
That made Thor pause. When he could breathe again, it felt oddly thin. "...I wanted to stop you splashing water at me," he said, and tried not to hear the low, rough edge to his own voice.
"I've stopped now, haven't I?" Loki murmured.
He could feel his brother's chest rising and falling quickly from the brief struggle. He could feel every inch of skin where they touched. And then Loki shifted, shoulder blade dragging across his chest.
Thor breathed in slowly, and did not move. "How am I to know you won't start again, the instant I release you?"
Loki turned. His face was beautiful in profile, lips a carved smile. "If you don't trust me..." Half a purr, half a whisper: "Then you had best set terms for my release."
It should not have sounded the way it did, should not have heated his blood, should not have-
"...What terms do you think would be - fair?" Thor asked, or thought he asked. The words rose from him unbidden, like steam from the bath water, like the spiced scent in the air or the duskier smell of his brother's nape.
"Well..." Loki pressed back against him, lining himself to Thor's body, and it took every shred of willpower he possessed not to gasp. "I think that we can come to terms over something you want..."
He caught his tongue between his teeth, skimmed it slowly.
"Something I am willing to give..."
At some point, his grip had become rigid. Now Thor was aware of it drifting, and somehow one hand found his brother's hip. He could feel the bone under skin and he traced it with his fingers. "That - sounds... most amenable," he admitted, breathing shallowly.
Every word seemed to be pulled from him, drawn by a force he could not resist.
Loki shivered against him, even in the hot water, and tilted his head so that his dark hair fell away from his neck, as much an offering as any a god had ever received. "You know what they say about victors - and spoils," he breathed.
For a very long moment, it almost held together. For a very long moment, they were almost brothers and brothers only.
But the pull was too strong.
Thor turned his head, and then his lips were on his brother's neck, fastened there hungrily, and it felt so good to just give in, so good to just let it fall apart. The other god was immediately responsive, grinding against him, reaching an arm back to circle round his neck and hold him there, an eager sound spilling from his lips, and Thor matched it with a groan of his own.
"This is," he struggled to say, brushing Loki's nearest earlobe with lips and teeth, "not the sort of - spoil to which..." But he could not finish the sentence, could barely finish the thought. He felt feverish, and why shouldn't he, succumbing to this sickness.
Loki's response was rich honey: "Yet, as the future King of Asgard... and its finest warrior... you are entitled." He let his head fall to rest on Thor's shoulder, and Thor could see the muscles in his throat work to swallow. "It is right," he whispered.
This is right.
No. Thor did not think it was. But he could not stop himself now, and then his hands were between his brother's thighs, fingers curling again around his brother's cock. Loki hissed at the contact, and he tried not to shudder; the organ was so hard. "Even... over trifling victories?"
His brother hummed a little. "If the conquered party - offers it... should it not be so?" He spread his legs under the water, rocked his hips firmly against Thor, the smooth flesh of his ass fitting perfectly against his groin.
All he could say, all he could think, was: "So be it."
The world had tilted again, and he could hold on no longer.