7.

The lights dazzled and the music swayed and deafened, a cacophony of swinging sound and sparkle. All of the boys' senses stretched and tingled, unfurling tendrils straining to take it all in. It was like walking into a great mirror ball and seeing it dash refractions out to splash across the house and grounds. Lights shimmered all the way down to the sea and the strange people shimmered beneath them, ethereal as mythical creatures to the boys' enchanted eyes. Mermaid women in scaled dresses, sharp-faced animal ladies in furs, the bird girls in their feathers; they swam and flew through the rippling lights of the tinkling chandeliers, light that streamed over the shiny surfaces of this strange new world. Strangest of all though were the men, for they had been assured that they would one day grow into such creatures themselves and it was a curious concept, harder to picture than any fantastical beast. Indeed they may as well have been told they would grow into centaurs, it seemed so bizarre a transformation. Standing on its threshold, adulthood only seemed a more distant realm than ever.

They moved through this strange sea in a trance; almost as though they were truly under water, Thor smiling faintly to be a part of this shimmering shoal at last, Loki curious and faintly uncomfortable, in truth feeling more without the circle of light than ever, now that he was faced with the actuality of being inside it. It was not until Thor, who snapped out of it first, nudged him, that he even realised he was following his big brother like a shadow.

"Go!" Thor whispered, gently – "Mingle!"

Loki scowled, not entirely certain that he wanted to, and a little hurt that Thor wanted him gone, though one parting look from Thor almost entirely reassured him that it might not have been so much that Thor did not want him as quite the reverse. The dark in his brother's eyes was barely concealed, even in the rainbow of lights reflected therein. Thor was relieved, upon seeing people he knew, only because that way he supposed he might just about survive the night.

It was difficult, even as he talked so lightly, casually taking a drink with Fandral and Hogun – it was so difficult to stop his eyes ever sliding back to Loki. He had never seen him quite so ethereally beautiful, pale and gleaming in the brightness even as he seemed to instinctively cringe beneath the light. Just to see his eyes glittering so brightly green and silver, or the sight of those slender fingers curled around the stem of a champagne flute was nearly enough to destroy him. He would find his own fingers trembling around a glass he would be quite surprised to find he had already drained dry. He wished, futilely, that his little brother were just a little less exquisite, less perfect.

It occurred to Thor, as the evening wore on, that though Loki was not, as such, actually following him, he was there every time his needy, searching eyes darted through the crowds to find him – he was never far at all, always leaning nonchalantly against a pillar or over a rail looking out, slender, dark and slightly demonic in this crowd of heavenly creatures. Even when his little group moved out into the gardens Loki was lingering, without Thor ever having seen him move, just outside the corner of Thor's eye, quick and watchful as a gentle spider. It seemed to Thor – though Loki would never have confirmed such a suspicion – that every time he looked up Loki in turn averted his eyes from whatever it was he had himself been watching. It was an un-nerving certainty that Loki would always be somewhere nearby, though he knew, reluctantly, how quickly he would panic if he had not been able to catch him within that quick sweep of his glance. Even so he wished he could see Loki talk to at least someone at some point in the night.

Loki had weighed up the idea of interaction and found it, at this time, to be wanting. The contrast to Thor that he always had to be, he could not simply enjoy or revel whole – heartedly in the music, the chatter and the dance. Curious though he was of it all, a part of him felt trapped inside this mirror ball, claustrophobic in the expanse of the crowd. He could not help but feel something repellent in it all, feel it like a tingle that drew him to the source, the sense that something grim had to slithering beneath all of that slick surface and insubstantial shine. It was all a shimmer, like a magical glamour, a front that could be easily ripped away to see what maggots squirmed in its rotten underside. Oh but he was drawn to it, yes, drawn to that slithering thing, wanted to be the one to rip the face off of the world like a scab and yet the shimmer drew him too – the chatter and interaction of humanity, like apes for all their suits and sequins. Did they not realise that in all that fur, those feathers, with that inane babble, they emulated the animals they thought they were so much superior to? He caught himself smiling to think of how easily he could manipulate them to one will – his will, snare them all so easily like the shimmering school of fish that they appeared.

And yet then, always, there was Thor; relentless, unavoidable, beloved. The beacon that always brought him back up from the darkest depth of thought. He despised it and was relieved by it in equal measure; as though there were a rope tied inside his heart, linked to a similar knot in Thor's chest. They would always pull at each other and it would hurt when one of them drifted too far, but to stretch beyond a certain point would kill them both most painfully.

He suspected that with this tether there was only so bad he could ever be – but that if it were true the reverse had to also be the case for Thor.

When Thor finally found himself alone in the gardens part way through the night, he felt the prickle at his neck that told him he was being watched with more intent than ever. He turned to see Loki, slinking into the trees at the side of the lawn, throwing a sly, radiant follow me smile over his shoulder, a clear call that Thor could not possibly do anything but obey. He followed Loki as though his smile were a spell – a spell he fell under too quickly and easily every single time.

He caught up to his brother under the trees, as Loki had clearly meant for him to do, leaning back against the trunk of an ancient ash like a maiden chained there and he the dragon. Subterranean shadow winged angles across Loki's face, rendering him magically adult beneath the blackish green and emerald black, his face pale in the watery moonlight that trickled down through the leaves. Again that photo – flash feeling that struck Thor so often in these days, a bright, crystalline knowledge –

I will remember you like this forever.

But above it all the raging hunger that could not stand one more knowing, falling upon those soft, sly and delicately smiling lips like a hunter shoving his captured creature back against the bark, Loki gasping at the scratch of the wood against his neck.

Loki laughed when he had the moment to, breathless, as Thor's fiercely roaming hands tugged pleadingly at his belt and it took all of his strength in every possible way to duck out of those circling arms;

"Brother – really, how much time do you think we have?" he grinned, more teasing than Thor could bear. Thor groaned, realising too late that these torturous kisses were all Loki had ever planned to allow him right now.

"You little beast –" he began to growl.

"Oh yes –" Loki positively purred, laughingly, moving like a breeze, around the tree and back again – "I'm a beast –" he grasped Thor's neck in one cupped hand – "Now kiss me, brother."

Thor gave a groan that went all the way down to his feet, taking all he could from the offered lips, whispering filth and need into Loki's ear, breath hot against his neck –

"I want to do everything in the world to you."

Loki returned the whisper, lips low against Thor's neck, heads together, nuzzling in –

"And later, brother, you can start – but for now –" he bestowed the most terribly sweet and lightest of kisses on Thor's cheek, fingers evilly brushing the dreadful throbbing between his legs, quite clearly to aggravate rather than soothe the need –

"Down boy," he hissed.

By the time Thor had got himself together enough to yell, insult – or even react at all – Loki was already headed half way back towards the lights, a dark speck retreating up the lawn.

_x_

Okay I am so sorry but once again this has got longer than it should and instead of doing the whole night as one chapter I'm gonna give you this now and the next half in another chapter! ….otherwise I just know I'll start hurrying stuff that is not meant to be hurried! Oh yes also, I'm evil. :-) *Grins*

I s'pose now is the time I should tell you – Sapsorrow is a lie – I really am Loki :-P

Heh heh.