Written to: The Name of Life - Spirited Away OST, crosspost from AO3
Eutony: The pleasantness of a word's sound.
"You barbarian," Loki hisses through gritted teeth as Thor pins him to the mattress, holds his flailing wrists down in one firm hand. "Would it be so difficult for you to actually, you know, just carry me over and deposit me gently onto the bed?"
"Far too difficult," Thor agrees as he mouths kisses into the side of Loki's neck, and Loki tries - and fails - to swallow his moans, the little pinpricks of pain and heat wending a slow burning trail down his spine to settle and smolder in the junction of his thighs.
"Must you treat me like the spoils of war?" Loki asks, pressing a hand over Thor's mouth as Thor hovers over him, aching for a kiss. "Surely there must be something to be said for gentle treatment."
Thor pauses for a moment, and Loki shivers at the heated gaze in his blue eyes, at the warm puffs of breath against his palm.
"I always feel like we go too fast, burning ourselves out like raging wildfires before we can get started. Surely it would not hurt to be embers for a while, and glow smoothly, softly?" Loki asks, removing his hand and letting it fall limp on the bed beside him. "What is the rush?"
Thor eyes him for a moment. "I suppose," he says after a very long while, "it is because I adore you far too much. And if you were to disappear the next moment, I want to have as many memories with you as I can. How can you make the most of time if you move sluggishly through life? And I treat you like treasure because that is exactly what you are, to me."
Loki laughs, softly, presses a kiss to the back of Thor's hand. "We will live forever," he says, with a little smile. "But that is quite possibly the smartest thing I have ever heard you say."
Loki sighs, his spine arching in a slow burn of pleasure as Thor rocks into him from behind, deep, smooth, slow thrusts that drag against Loki's insides and send shudders through his entire body. He groans, the sound lost somewhere between his vocal cords and his mouth, and he can feel Thor's mouth against the back of his neck, allows Thor to press thick fingers into his mouth and scoop out all the strangled noises, flattening them out into the air into perfect music.
"Loki," Thor murmurs gently against the hollow of Loki's shoulder blades. "Loki."
Loki revels in the sound of his name, can taste the curve of Thor's mouth shaping itself to form the O, can hear the thickness of a moan creeping up into Thor's deep voice, only revealing itself in the hard sound of the K, can touch forever and always and eternity in the drag of the I. He blindly reaches down, entwines his fingers with Thor's free hand, and squeezes.
Thor clutches back, and suddenly Loki is already far too close, closer than he realised, is suddenly already too far gone as Thor's thumb rubs at the base of Loki's own, surprises both himself and Thor as he suddenly clenches down around him, spilling a choked sob into Thor's palm.
As he begins to come down, fuzzy, hazy, he feels Thor speed up, his thrusts roughening, quickening. And because Loki is exhausted beyond his own expectations, because Thor has been so patient, he allows it, allows Thor to make the most of their eternity together.
Whispers Thor's name, barely audible, his tongue thick so the Th comes out almost like an S, the O a slow drawl as Thor bites a kiss into his shoulder, the R barely a breath, barely a whimper as Thor clutches at Loki's fingers between his own and comes.