Hello :)

First, I have to confess English is not my first language. Actually I usually write my stories in German for I live in Germany (Haha, surprise I know)

To play it safe I'm apologizing for any mistakes in spelling, grammar, etc if there is anything found (God, I hope not…).

Enjoy reading :)

The soft scent of blood and sweat hovers in the air as Thor thrusts himself another time into his brother.

Deeper now.

So deep Loki soon forgets where his cool skin begins and Thor's burning flesh ends. A husky moan bursts out of his scarred lips. His throat is sore from crying. The room is stifling, oxygen glows like fire in their lungs while their bodies melt into each other.

Loki is not sure how it all started. Or when. He only knows that one fateful day his brother came inside his cell, took a few steps closer until Loki could see the swirling storm in the bright blue gaze he learned to hate.

"I want to talk." Thor said. Sudden Anger lingering in his voice. Loki just nodded.

It was dangerous. Almost suicidal what the Thunderer implied by going near the Jotun without even carrying Mjölnir with him. Loki still owned enough power to break his neck. Even when he was locked up in chains, his magic remained furious and uncontrollable.

But Thor has never been aware of traits like particular cleverness.

And of course Loki tricks him, talks to him in a scornful way, sneering. It is an old game. Loki likes to play. And Thor gives in. They argue. Like in the time they've been children. But now everything has changed. Now they are neither children nor brothers nor friends. They are rivals, enemies.

But Loki loves to cross the line.

Eventually the thunderer's armour rattles to the ground while he pulls Loki's coat off, almost frazzling the precious material to shreds. The yellowish walls of the cell get milky and obscure. No one from the outside is able to look what happens inside the barricaded room.

Lucky them. It would have meant a scandal.

After a few spoken curses Loki scatters crimson scratches everywhere he reaches Thor's blank, bronzed flesh and he is not willing to stop. Barely unable to be satisfied by the trails his nails leave behind. Blood drips over broad shoulders and muscular arms. Such an impressive view. No, Loki refuses to stop.

He does not want to stop. Never again.

And Thor does not mind it after all. Obsessively he encloses his brother with neck and crop, meeting the cool, marmoreal creature hot and vibrantly. His uncouth hands dig tightly into the smooth skin, raw lips getting caught in silky raven hair. Every touch leaves dark marks on the vulnerable skin and every sound of the velvet, malicious voice trembles his world.

He wants to hold, hold and never let go.

Because he understands if he loosens his grip now, it will be the last farewell they ever shared.

Loki clings his teeth into the fervid nape, sucking hard. Thor tastes like ash and grime of the battlefield.

His strength and lust pulsing fondly under Loki's talented hands. Moldable as fluid wax.

And Loki hates him, hates him, hates him.

It is good to hate him. (It helps most times).

And it is so good presaging the rage in their tangled, wet kisses, to share anger and frustration with acute attrition. Loki bites and sips at sweet lips until they're flawed and swollen. Lovely. Rushing towards the rough touches he requests more. And, god, Thor gives him more. He presses him hard against the wall, tearing his clothes apart until bare skin is visible. Smooth and pure like porcelain. Thor wants to break it open with his teeth.

He grips Loki's long legs and picks him up easily. His throbbing erection curiously peeking out of his trousers, desperately yearning for attention. Loki smacks his lips hungrily tasting his own blood.

He waits, burns in anticipation. His member stands out of his lap like an upright stake, alluring the thunderer immeasurably.

And the waiting will be rewarded.

Both want to dominate the pace. Both claim to be the master, not a slave. They fight for it. For hundreds of years they do not do anything else than fighting. Fighting each other. Too bad the true might lies in their reunion. Over and over again.

It takes one last hit for Thor to sink his fat cock directly in the tight ass and Loki clenches his teeth as a stabbing pain befalls him. But he gets used to it, even appreciates it when his greedy hole swallows the thunderer's arousal completely. The feeling of the vibrant dick pleasures him and he adores it when Thor groans loudly and catches his breath because of him. Tiny drops of sweet run down his temples, falling on his heavy chest.

Loki claws his finger in the golden mane and pulls, conducting the thick head of his brother again to his open mouth, covers bearded cheeks, front and temples with poisoned kisses.

Thor's guttural groan truly is the greatest treasure he can afford.

And Thor ensures that he gets to hear Loki's voice as well, torturing his neck with spicy bite marks and wet strings of saliva. Loki's caws are mixed with sinful pleasure and unnamed agony.

Loki is not sure how it all started. Or when.

He only knows that one fateful day his brother came inside his cell, took a few steps closer until Loki could see the swirling storm in the bright blue gaze he learned to hate.

"I want to talk." Thor said. Sudden Anger lingering in his voice. Loki just nodded.

Since then he is his personal whore.

Or at least something, you would call a bitch.

To him the bothered berserker goes, if the duties as an Asgardian king leave him in shambles.

In his lap he hides his face, if he searches for ease.

Loki knows it is a place, which no one, not even the human woman of Midgard is able to dispute.

It is irreplaceable. He has become irreplaceable. Irreplaceable for the king.

"I love you." Thor whispers in his ear while all his aching muscles exert by slamming himself a last time into the magician, filling him with his hot seed.

A few moments later Loki's own semen spatters Thor's gut. Sticky, white and cold as ice.

Loki looks up and smiles at his brother. Emotionless.

The silver tongue turns into stone.

He does not reply to his brother' confession, because he knows the truth for many, many years.

He is a monster. He is not made for love. This type of love. He will never be ready. Nothing can change that.

It's quite simple. Actually.

How bad Thor's stubbornness fails to understand such ridiculous simplicity.

Hello again^^

I hope you liked the story (at least a bit…) :3

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