~I~

I was uncertain what heinous racket awoke me first, the bestial stomping just outside my door or the voice bellowing, "Brother!" with all the grace of a troll. I sat up in the bed of my spacious chamber, barely putting my bare feet upon the black marble before he began to rap furiously on the door. "Brother! Damn thee, open this accursed door or else I shall break it to pieces! Brother!"

I decided not to call his bluff and threw open the lock with a small feat of magic, allowing him to barge his way in still fully adorned in his warrior's regalia, even down to his plate-mail and cloak. He slammed the door and staggered in my direction, brandishing the prized weapon of the gods, Mjölnir, as if it were a wooden sword and we were lads again.

"Thor, did it ever occur to thee that I might be asleep at this hour?" I demanded, my arms firmly crossed as I stood before him in my bedclothes: a floor-sweeping robe of luscious green, made of the finest silks and gold threads.

He snarled and waved me off, proceeding to stamp his booted feet back and forth like a hungry wolf.

"How many horns of mead was it this time?" I asked dryly. "Thirty? Forty?"

"Sixty-seven," he grumbled.

I used my thumb and forefinger to massage the bridge of my nose. "I have no patience to cater to a drunk. Go to thy own bed if thee mean to throw infantile tantrums all night."

"Thee said nothing!" he hollered, still far too loud for any time of day. There were several reasons he was known as the Thunderer. "Today I was disgraced by Father, and thee stood right beside me and spoke not a word on my behalf!"

"Thor—"

"Are we not brothers? Blood? Thee are to be the one man upon whose loyalty I can always rely, and thee said nothing!"

"What in the Nine Realms did thee expect me to do?"

"Anything! Use that silver tongue of thine on my behalf! Thee are the best orator in all Asgard and yet thee held thy silence for the first time in all our lives!"

"Thor, thee forget that our father is also the Allfather. Thee ask me to defy that which is all-knowing and all-seeing. Even I could not talk him out of such a rage. Thee openly questioned his rule, so thee have only thyself to blame."

"He is wrong!"

I sighed. "Be that as it may, he is king—"

"I should be king!" he screamed, cutting me off with a swing of his hammer. "The entire court was present! Thee were there, clad in thy best armor, and Mother was resplendent! Our friends and comrades were there in all their finery! Father was supposed to announce my Ascension, but instead he let it be known before all the court that he believes I am not yet ready!" He threw up his hammer. "Not ready! Can thee believe he spoke such?"

Yes, I very well could, and I wanted to applaud Father for his good sense, but I would not be letting Thor know that. Today our father, Odin, king and father to all gods, had announced before the entire population of Asgard that Thor would be the one to inherit the throne…when he was ready to do so. I had not been surprised that I was not chosen; I had been expecting it all my life, but that did not mean I was thrilled to know Thor would sit upon the throne. I saw Father's judgment as wise, and was secretly pleased that my brother would have to wait, but of course Thor saw it as unfair. He was nothing but an overgrown child scrabbling to be king of the mountain.

Father had taken me aside after the announcement, allowing Thor to storm off in a tirade. "My son," he had said to me, his large hand on my shoulder, "know that this was not an easy decision to make. Indeed, thee would be a wise and efficient ruler, much more cunning than thy brother, but Asgard is a land of warriors, and its king must be formidable in ways thee are not suited."

I had fought my hardest not to lose my temper, instead meeting his eyes with a calm dismay. "I understand, Father," I had told him. "I had known this day was coming, that Thor would take the throne. Verily, he is ten times the warrior I am. Asgard cannot have such a weak link at its head if it is to survive."

"Loki," he said, "never say thee are the weak link." I nodded, wanting to placate him so I could escape to the refuge of my library and do my best to vanish. I did not in the least feel like being seen or spoken to, especially by Thor's jovial friends, who would no doubt tease and taunt me. "I hope this will not strain thy relationship with thy brother," Father had added.

"How can I hold a grudge against Thor?" I had asked, my eyes cast to the floor so my father would not catch the glint of deception. "He has served thee and Asgard with all his might and heart, and thusly he has rightfully won the throne. If he is to be king and not I, then the fault must lie not with him, but with me."

"Nay, Loki," Father had said, and in a very rare show of affection, cupped my face as best he could whilst I wore my helmet. "There is no fault with thee, simply a difference in skill. Before thy brother tore off, it was my intention to announce that upon Thor's Ascension, thee would be made Chief Counsel of the Realm." I tried to be happy at his words, forcing a smile. "The people shall look to thee for knowledge and the king shall look to thee for advice. No battles shall be fought nor wars be waged without thy word."

This was little consolation, but it was so sparing for the Allfather to be so kind and attentive, especially of me, so I bowed my head. "I am honored," I had said. "I thank thee, Father. I will do my utmost to be a wise and just Counsel, when the time comes." He patted my cheek and left to go about his business, leaving Thor to rage and me to fester.

"The throne was promised to me and torn in away in the same breath!" Thor was yelling, returning me to the present. He swung his hammer again and paced harder, his cape snapping behind him as if there were a great gust of wind.

"Thee must try to be calm, Brother. I understand thy dismay, but this is no way to contend with—"

"How could thee possibly understand?" he grumbled.

I felt my face tighten in every edge, my patience instantly gone dry. "Thee are not the only son of Odin in this room who has been denied the throne," I hissed.

This halted him. As he turned to me I saw his posture ease and his face soften, like a melting candle. "Brother, I did not mean—"

I scoffed and returned to sit on the edge of my massive bed in its frame of gold. The silk sheets were a catching green and the furs piled atop the mattress were of the finest sable, from the hides of black wolves. I waved my hand over the rim of the goblet at my bedside and it filled with my favorite mixture of wine with a daub of honey. I preferred it over the offensively strong tang of mead that Thor and his comrades were always so eager to gulp down. I took a sip in attempt to calm myself. Losing my temper was not only stupid, but also useless. Thor was drunk and raving and nothing we said to one another tonight would hold any merit.

Thor hesitated before he approached me. Though he was the epitome of pompous and dripped confidence from every pore, he was not practiced in the arts of subtlety, or empathy. He felt much for himself, and little for others. How his insipid little band of Warriors Three enjoyed his company I would never know, much less that would-be Valkyrie with her fierce sensibilities. Although I admired her for not enduring his idiocy, I resented her for feeding his arrogance. Thor was too thick to see it, but she fancied him, as every other unwed maiden in the kingdom did. They flocked to him, and I knew he would take his pick if not for the law. As princes, we were not permitted to couple out of wedlock. We had to keep the royal bloodline pure. The maidens hardly tried for me, not that I would indulge them even if I were able…

I was so incensed that my mind was wandering to useless things.

"Brother," he said, and sat his bulk next to my much more slender frame. He put down Mjölnir—the sacred weapon I was never given the chance to wield—on the floor at his feet, and heaved a sigh. "It never occurred to me, in my jubilation, that thee would be mourning this day."

"It is of no matter," I snapped. "Thee are first-born, and the kingdom's finest warrior. Its hero. I have always known that there was no chance of my ascending to the throne as long as thee were alive and well."

"There was an equal chance between us," he insisted. "Father always said so."

"Oh, don't be such an imbecile, Thor," I barked, taking another drink. "Father never once considered me and thee know it. The differences between us are as clear as the sun and moon. I have always been the small one, the pale one, the tricky one, the weak one, the sneaky one, the troublesome one… I have never been the Mighty, the Thunderer, the Golden, the Handsome, the Majestic… Those are thy traits, not mine."

"Brother, though our traits are different, thy skills are no less admirable. In all the Nine Realms there is no greater sorcerer. Odin himself said that in the history of Asgard no one else has had such prowess in magic. I could never best thee in that regard, nor in thy ability to strategize, to think thy way out of any situation in the blink of an eye. I am show and force, thee are genius and care."

"Genius and care do not win thrones, as it seems."

"Father had to choose only one of us. We cannot both sit upon the throne." He shook his head. "Why do we even argue? My kingship has been denied. Thee may yet win the throne."

"Thee are and have always been the favored one, Thor. All will work out for thee in the end. I must come to be satisfied as Chief Counsel and nothing more, for all time."

"Chief Counsel?"

"Father took me aside after thy fit and informed me that the celebration was also to announce my placement as thy Chief Counsel," I explained.

"Brother, this is wonderful news!" he said, his face brightening, but it immediately fell again. "And I ruined this day for thee! I interrupted the celebration before thee could be honored!" He put his hand to his forehead and raked his hair. "I am sorry, Loki."

I rolled my eyes. If he thought my missing out on a feast of shared praise was the worst of our problems, he was even more stupid than I thought. "It is no matter, Thor, truly. Thee know how I despise noisy, drunken merriment."

He abruptly turned to me and clamped his hand on my shoulder. "Loki, hear me now and know: when and if I do take the throne, thee will not simply be my Counsel, thee will be my right hand. I will make thee my closest advisor, my steward, and all shall answer to thee in my absence. In all the universe, thee will be second only to me."

"And how is that any different than it has always been?" His brow creased and his lips parted. He truly did not know what to say. I usually adored flustering him, watching that numbing helplessness come over his features, but now it was no consolation.

"Loki, why do we never speak this way anymore?"

"What?"

"When exactly did we stop sharing every fleeting thought with one another? As lads, we were always at one another's side. I felt as close to thee as I did my own skin. Did this question of who would rule tear us apart without my even noticing?"

"There are many things thee do not notice, Thor," I said bitingly. His brow lifted high on his forehead. "Now get out of my chambers so I can return to the slumber thee destroyed—"

"Loki," he said, clasping both my shoulders in his hands, "I want thee at my side. No matter who becomes king, I do not want it to destroy us."

"Thee speak nonsense. Thee will not even remember this conversation come the morn."

"Loki, please."

"What is it thee would have me say, Thor? It is I who has been wronged, yet thee wish me to be reduced to comforting thee as I did when we were children."

"Why can we not be as we were then? We were inseparable."

I, too, once mourned such sentiments. But my heart had been hardening far too long. "…Things change," I said coldly.

"I shall change them back," he announced.

"Not all things can be solved with a show of force."

Thor did the very last thing I was expecting then, and got down on one knee before me. I stared at him, something in my chest going taut like a bowstring.

"Thor?"

"I never meant to do thee ill, Brother. Believe me. Please."

He never humbled himself this way, least of all before me. I knew this was simply the mead talking, yet still I felt the throbbing in my chest swell up into my throat.

"…I believe thee, but ill has been done all the same. There is no taking it back, Thor."

"Is that why thee have begun to avoid my celebrations?" he asked, looking up at me, his face stricken. "Why thee have refused to see me off when I go questing? Why thee never seem to be there to welcome me home? Why thee spend so much of thy time in the archives and the temples? Why thee prefer not to hunt with me? Do thee avoid my company purposefully?"

I looked away from him.

"Loki, thee hold things against me that are beyond my control." He sighed. "Indeed, thee must be happy that I have been so thoroughly humiliated this day. I will allow thee such gratification and concede it so, if thee but accept my request for forgiveness. Allow me to make amends before it is too late."

I was frowning vehemently—it was already too late, was it not?—but he was so intoxicated his emotions were unstable. He would never lower himself like this before me under normal circumstances. At the very least, I could enjoy it while it lasted.

"Very well then. I shall accept on only one condition."

"Anything."

"Kiss me." He glanced up at me, his eyes going wider, bluer. I met them, wanting to tease him.

"Brother…"

I kept the tension heated between us until I saw him give way, his muscles flexing to move forward, and I held out my hand, palm-down, as Odin would to a groveling subject. Thor slowly took my hand, watching me as he pressed his lips to my knuckles. The fine hairs of his beard sent a tingling through my spine, pathetic in comparison to the bolt of lighting that his lips engendered. He stayed in place, kissing my hand, for far too long, and I allowed it of him, for far too long.

I shut my eyes and reveled in the moment.

"Now go back to thy chambers and let me be," I stammered. He stood, but instead of leaving, he moved his bulk onto the bed, spreading out so that he could lay his cheek upon my thigh. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Thee mentioned comforting me as thee did when we were children. Remember what thee used to do if I was scolded by Father?"

"Yes…I remember."

I watched the edges of his perfect mouth quirk up. "Well?"

"Thee really expect me to do that now? We are grown men."

He just smiled that annoyingly gorgeous smile. He did not look to be going anywhere, and I was no longer in a mood to argue with the buffoon. I lifted my hand to set it on the side of his head. When I began to stroke his sun-kissed hair, he let out a gratified sigh and settled his weight on my bed.

"Thee do know I am not eight seasons old anymore," I remarked.

"I could have been persuaded to believe it, Brother, as thee have not gained any muscle since then." I made a fist in his hair and he flinched before he burst out laughing.

"Thee are incorrigible," I sneered.

"I jest," he exclaimed, settling again. "There are many maidens at court who would say thee have become a fine man."

"I can only take so much jesting when I have been awakened from sleep by an idiot pounding at my door."

"I do not jest this time," he insisted. "Sif tells me of how the women talk. Are there any thee favor?"

"Why should thee care?"

"I can have Sif put in a good word for thee."

"…It would matter not. I cannot be married until thee are, Brother."

"So there is a maid thee favor. Do tell me of her." He was so sincere, the blasted oaf.

"There is nothing to tell."

"Allow me to guess then… It must be that young sorceress, Amora. She is an unparalleled wielder of magic and her beauty is unmatched. Thee fancy her, do thee not? I have seen her speak to thee at the temple on more than one occasion."

"Thee imagine things. Amora speaks to me only about magic. She would much rather share thy company than mine."

He frowned again. "Brother, I do not mean to cause thee harm with my words…"

He never did, yet it happened, and would happen again. I inhaled and let it out slowly. "I know."

"…I will not speak of it further."

"That would be wise." I realized that I had begun to stroke his hair again at some point. I pretended I did not notice. "I have no need for such petty concerns, besides."

"Love is a petty concern?"

"Love of a woman, yes. They are simple, fickle creatures. I've no need of them."

"Hmm. There is really no one thee favor in all of Asgard?"

"…Perhaps, but it is folly."

"Nay, Brother," he said, turning towards me and lifting himself up on one elbow. "It is no folly! Tell me who it is and I will do all I can for thee. It is the least I can do."

"Thee can do nothing, for there is nothing to be done. Thee will be King, thee will be married, and I will stay in the same place I have always been. Put it out of thy mind, Thor. This is how it was always to happen."

He clutched his large hand about the nape of my neck and suddenly pulled me to him in an embrace. I paused in my breathing as I felt his lips brush my pulse. He was still half-reclined on the bed, so his face was angled upwards, buried in my dark, coarse hair. It was no resemblance to the silken gold of his mane, which I realized I was yet still holding.

"Thor?"

"I may say so very seldom, Brother, but I love thee."

I had nothing to say. I could never form those words so casually; however sweet they might be on my tongue, they would be equally bitter. Every time I had ever said it, I had to convince myself it was mostly a lie just to bear the weight of the syllables.

"Thee are very drunk," I whispered, leaning just so my mouth touched his hair. We had not been this close to one another since we were small children, and I did not want to admit how much I burned at the sensation.

"Mmm, I may be drunk but thee are still my only beloved brother." He inhaled and my spine caught fire. "I love the way thee smell," he was saying. "Like freshly-fallen snow on the trees."

"Do I?" That was strange. Everyone from Asgard carried a rich, sweet scent, an appropriately godly perfume of oils and incense and decadence. Smelling Thor's hair, he possessed that same sweet musk, though there were the added tinges of good leather, ethereal metal, and mead. Why would I be any different from the other gods?

Just then his other arm wrapped my waist in spite of his precarious position, and I found my arms going around the backs of his shoulders, both to hold him up and to keep him this close at least a moment longer. He was too heavy for me to support for long, but some part of me refused to let go.

"Thor, hold thyself up, thee great fool," I said. If I released him he would tumble off the bed. "I should let thee crack thy thick skull on the marble." I pulled him forward and he simply let his weight shift and drop on top of me. I coughed out a chest full of air as he buried me beneath his body, his cloak and long hair enveloping me. I began to snarl, awkward in this position and wanting distance for several reasons, but as he fumbled his way off of me, laughing, his hand brushed it and we both froze.

Beneath his hand, the organ between my legs was wretchedly hard, and had been since he first kissed my flesh. He glanced at where he touched and then looked up at me. Very rarely was I flustered, but it took me too many moments to give him a shove and bark, "Begone from me!"

"Brother," he whispered, refusing to budge, "I do not understand."

"Let me go at once!"

"…Do thee mean that all this time, the one thee favored was…me?"

I let out a hiss and threw him aside, moving to the edge of the bed, but he clamped his massive arms around me, stopping me. I began to struggle, but he returned his hand to that suffering betwixt my thighs. I let out a gasp on pure reflex, grabbing hold of his wrist.

"Why do thee do this?" I demanded.

"It is all right, Brother," he said, and his palm began to glide upwards and down in a drowsy rhythm. "If it is what thee want, I will ease thee. I will make amends."

"Have thee gone mad?" I fought to maintain my composure as his hand continued to roam. "This is obscene. I merely had a lapse of physical control, as thee stormed in and wrenched me from my deep sleep."

"Thee mean to say this is not for me then?" He slipped his big hand inside my robe and when his warm skin came in contact with the hottest, most desperate part of my body, I outright groaned. I heard him chuckle just behind my ear. "I thought so." He commenced his attentive stroking, keeping his face in my hair and his other arm around my chest.

"Thor…" I choked out through clenched teeth. To know the touch of his hand here was indescribable. If he were but a man, his battle-worn hands would be rough and callused, but he was of Asgard, and thusly they were as soft and smooth as any newborn babe's. His heavenly scent surrounded me, bringing all of my darkest fantasies to light. How many times had I indulged myself while envisioning it was he? How many times had I gazed upon my brother from a self-induced distance, knowing I felt so much more for him than camaraderie?

"We cannot do this," I finally managed to say, attempting to be the logical one, as usual.

"Why not? We are the sons of Odin; who can condemn us?"

"It is because we are the sons of Odin, imbecile! Thee are my brother…or have thee forgotten?"

"I will never forget. Not so long ago, it was not uncommon for siblings to marry, is that not so?"

"Male and female siblings, idiot."

"What difference does it make whether thee be my brother or my sister?"

"Child bearing, for one thing, thee miserable—"

"That never stopped thee, did it?" he remarked, and I threw my elbow back into his ribs. He flinched and then laughed it off.

"I make one mistake and never hear the end of it from thee simpletons!" I snapped. "How well do thee think this would be received by Father?" It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain my composure as he stroked, his grip firm but his rhythm languid. He had no real intent behind his movements, just a teasing, a heated curiosity fueled by drink. It was driving me mad.

"We shall not tell anyone," he said.

"Heimdall could very well be watching."

"If he is, I will have no shame. Neither of us is betrothed, as thee said. There can be no tainting of bloodlines. Why can I not comfort my brother after he has so graciously comforted me?"

"If this is thy idea of comfort, it's a wonder that I am the one who fathered a child."

"No, not fathered," he said with a laugh.

I threw my elbow at him again but this time he was prepared and dodged, using my thrown balance to flip me on my back. In a fit of temper I grabbed his throat in both hands and squeezed, but he shook me off and had me pinned almost instantly.

"Thee know thee cannot beat me in a fistfight, Brother," he said.

"And thee cannot beat Sleipnir in a battle of wits," I growled. He laughed with a shrug. "It would be best if thee let me go and we forget this. Thee are drunk and know not what thee do."

Thor smiled as he undid the sash to my robe and parted it slowly, unveiling my naked body. I flinched as my skin was bared to the slight chill of the night air. I resented his gorgeous grin with a vengeance. "Need I be drunk to enjoy this?" His big hands began to wander me. I had intended to move away, but that was impossible now as he explored me, his interest genuine, his touch scalding. My fingers burrowed into the bedding as I lost my will to oppose his playing.

How could I be allowing this? I would only be letting him make a greater fool of me.

"I love the smoothness of thy body, Brother," he was saying, close to my face. "And thy white skin, like milk. Asgardians are so hardy and golden, but not thee. Thee are as winter."

"Winter…to thy burning summer. Waning moon to thy sun."

"Yes," he said, but he was still smiling when I glared at him. "We have always complimented one another." This comment came too close to disarming me.

I scoffed but his thumbs brushed my nipples and it halted my voice. He noticed and prodded them, instantly making them taut. Intrigued by this, he circled and pinched with an infuriating innocence to his pursuits. He knew nothing at all of what he was doing, yet I was radically affected by his lingering. I bit my teeth together to contain my groans but he bent down and next discovered the stiff buds with his tongue. My back arched beneath him but he was immovable, his whole body caging me, his legs at either side of mine, his curtain of hair tickling my bare throat.

"Thor," I said with urgency, but my words died.

He lifted his head from where he suckled me. "Yes, Loki?"

For the first time since I could remember, I had no inkling as to what I should say. I opened my mouth and closed it again. Did I intend to protest, to berate him with vile insults, or was it something else? Was I truly intending to ask for more?

Thor eliminated my dilemma by impulsively leaning in and capturing my mouth with his. He withdrew and looked at me, just looked, and I hesitated only a moment before I clasped his face to mine, my fingers plunging through his hair, lashing us to one another. I met him full force, and thrust my tongue past his flawless lips, being the aggressor between us for the first time in our lives. He grunted in his throat and wrapped me in his arms, sprawling atop me. His tongue contested with mine but it was no match. I loved the raw scrape of his beard against my mouth and chin. I loved his sweet taste, tinged with mead. He rutted up against me as we tasted, and I felt the massive bulge in his trousers.

We parted, our breaths washing across each other. His lips gleamed with saliva and his eyes—his bluer-than-the-sky eyes—were electric.

I was suddenly gripped with old, nearly forgotten affections. True, I had been unwittingly, resentfully enamored with Thor's radiating perfection since we were youths, but long before that I had loved him as my dearest brother, my closest—my only—friend. He would regret this come the morrow. He was intoxicated far beyond his limits. Even now, pressed against me, he swayed unsoundly, as if he knew not the sky from the earth. His words were here and there slurred or misshapen, and his eyes were glassy with intoxication. He was not himself.

I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Enough," I told him. He blinked at me. "Thee do not want this. Thee are so drunk that any warm body will do."

"No, Loki—"

"Silence!" I hissed. "Do thee honestly believe thee will not look back on this with shame in the future? This will only strengthen the wedge that has divided us these past years. If thee do not want that, then away with thee!"

"Hear me: I am not leaving this bed tonight," he said sternly, still gripping me in both thick arms.

I was shocked—not by his stubbornness, as that was nothing new—but by his devotion. "Thor…thee are so determined?"

"Thee want me, Brother…need me." At these words, his knuckles brushed my groin, bringing a whisper of a moan from me. "That is all I have ever desired from thee. If thee are not to be King, then still I wish to protect thee and keep thee close, in whatever way I can." He embraced me then, tucking his brow in against my shoulder. "I will prove myself with a pledge of mine own flesh. I will never regret doing something that could bring thee such happiness after I have dared steal so much of it away from thee. It is I who am unworthy of thee, Loki."

I held him to me and just felt his heart beating, racing, against mine. The circlets on his breast-plate were jabbing into me but I did not pay it heed. He began to kiss the side of my neck, one of his hands whispering inside my robe to touch my bare hip. Another nudge, and his fingers were making an impression upon the apex of my buttocks, inducing them to tighten in response. Every point of naked contact between us kindled my soul like tinder, and I feared that soon I would be a raging bonfire beyond control.

"Thor…thee mean this," I observed.

"Yes, Brother." His thumb grazed up my spine and the other fingers drifted downward, beginning to part me. "Will thee let me prove myself? My love?"

I shuddered, every drop of blood in my body screaming to submit. To feel his touch there… I was certain I was having another of my wicked daydreams. To think that it was happening, at last… But being compliant was not in my nature, and I had to be firm with him. "If thee intend to do this…at least let me make it easier for thee."

"What do thee mean?" He moved back from me and startled, for I had already transformed myself into his beautiful comrade, the Lady Sif. No doubt this would be far more enjoyable for him than fumbling about clumsily with my male form. It would also remove any doubts that may arise about his own masculinity. "Loki?"

"Thee need not fret," I said in her voice, putting my dainty, feminine hand on his cheek. "If thee have me this way, thee will not have to fear remorse. Thee will lie with a beautiful woman who cares for thee. Nothing more."

I ran my thumb across his cheekbone and his eyes narrowed. He looked at my plump breasts and shapely hips, my supple legs, the female wetness gathering on my thighs. He lifted his hand, holding it just apart from my new woman's skin. I waited in suspense for him to touch me, take me, but then he looked back at my face.

"Nay," he said, and snatched my wrists in his hands, pinning me down by them. His face was creased angrily. "I do not want thee this way. Change thyself back at once."

"But Thor—"

"Do it!" he roared. His anger was truly shocking. I was certain he would be happy with this. "I will have thee as thee are!" he insisted. "I do not want an imposter or an illusion, Trickster!"

"I was only trying to make this easier on thy conscience, Thor. Sif is beautiful—I know thee think so."

"Verily, and if I desired Sif I would have her. She is a fine woman and a formidable warrior. Father would gladly accept the match."

"As would she," I blurted, more fiercely than intended.

He nodded reluctantly, refusing to look me in "her" eyes. "Probably so."

"Then why not? Why do thee come to my bed in this state and twist my desires if thee can simply have her?"

"I do not have such feelings for Sif. When we were younger…we teased at such a romance. But it was not to be. We are different now. She is a friend and comrade to me, nothing more." He turned to me, letting loose his hold on my wrists. I rubbed them. "Now change back, please."

I did so, morphing myself back into my pallid, slender male form. Her long, full chestnut hair vanished into my choppy black locks. Her catching mahogany eyes vanished into the sour green of mine. I fell so short of Thor's vivid beauty. "Thee truly prefer me this way?" I asked, uncharacteristically timid.

"Why would I not, Brother? I have always been fond of thy smooth, white skin. Thy sleek raven hair. Thy emerald eyes." I scoffed at his delusional description of me, but he brought my face back to his and kissed me. "Do not doubt my word, Brother. Am I known for lying?"

"…Nay," I admitted.

"Well then." He slid his large hand down my body, returning it to my manhood, making me quiver with longing. "Thee are no less in need, it seems."

He would not back down, it seemed, no matter how I attempted to dissuade him. Was this truly happening? Did I have him, at last?

I dared reach down and cup his erection through the scaled leather of his trousers. He bared his teeth as he exhaled, and I let out the smallest sigh of satisfaction. How long had I wanted to touch him here, to feel the sheer, raw yearning his sensual body could produce? I had to convince myself again that I was yet awake.

"Nor are thee," I whispered after I swallowed my pooling saliva.

"…It appears not," he admitted.

He flowed back into me and we met in a kiss, succulent and searching at first, and then voracious as time went on. I snaked my arms around his neck and ripped open the clasps that held his cloak to his armor. I pulled it free and tossed it from the bed, abandoning any misgiving now that he had thwarted my attempts at letting him keep his honor. If he refused to flee, I would not relent. After the slights I suffered this day, I would no longer harbor guilt.

I would have what I wanted, for the first time.

He took my lead and sat up on his knees, unclasping his vambraces and tossing them aside while I unfastened the side buckles of his breastplate. Together we maneuvered him out of the topmost armor piece and it too was discarded from the bed. There were several more pieces to follow, as well as his circlets and mail. Impatient with all his various, intricately forged grieves, I waved my hands down each of his arms, banishing all his plate-mail and remaining armor pieces into a pile of metal shards on the floor.

"Thee are usually the patient one, Brother, yet thee cannot even wait for me to remove my own armor," he said with a smirk."Thee always wear too much of it," I accused.

"With Mjölnir at thy side, so thee really have need of so many grieves?"

"I thought thee liked the way I looked in it," he replied.

I snorted. "Thee imagine things."

He laughed and started on his tunic. When he removed the garment, I beheld his naked torso, free of hair or blemishes or scars and sweetened to a pale gold as befitting the royal bloodline. I lifted my hands and tentatively laid them on his chest, taking a breath before I smoothed over the solid planes of muscle to feel the rigidity of his rosy nipples. He was built with power, a consequence of both Odin's noble blood and years of dedicated training. True this was not nearly the first time I had touched him here, in all our various adventures and misadventures, but this was the first time I did not have to pretend.

"Glorious," I was saying before I even thought to breathe. I would never look as such. Upon his chest my hand appeared frail and colorless.

"I shall never allow thee to forget this," Thor said.

"Thee will never remember past this night," I said reticently.

"We shall see." He flung off his boots and then unbuckled his belt, standing to peel his trousers away. What he unveiled was incredible; his legs were ripe with thick muscle, his hips finely built, his pelvis drawing my attention to the flesh between... It was swollen so large and already weeping milky tears of eagerness.

Not once before this moment had I ever felt so wanted.

He crawled back onto the bedding and leaned over me to remove my garment, which still hung about my shoulders uselessly. When we were both disrobed, we simply lay together, each taking in the vision of the other. He put his hand around my nape, his palm cupping the line of my jaw, and I held his wrist, absorbing his pulse. Everything about him was strength.

I recalled the first time I looked upon him as more than a brother. It had been after a hunting trip, which I hated tremendously, but we and the Warriors Three had gone to the communal bathhouse. How they convinced me to such, I will never understand. Thor was fifteen, I barely thirteen. We had not been naked together for some time, and the pain in my heart the sight of him engendered was enough to ensure that we never were again. Until now.

For a moment, we were motionless.

"Loki," he said, and then trailed off.

This was the end, I thought. He had finally realized what he was doing, grown sober enough to regain his senses. He would leave, I would brood, he would forget his lapse in judgment, and we would never speak of this again. I knew it would happen, but part of me had still hoped.

I sighed weakly, accepting this inevitable outcome. "Yes, Thor?"

He gave my cheek a light caress, and looked down at the silk and feather pillows he reclined upon. "I know not…how to proceed."

My eyes opened a little wider as a faint splash of crimson welled up in his face. Could it be that he was embarrassed? Thor, the most confident, conceited, self-absorbed barbarian in all the Nine Realms, was bashful?

"Thee need not worry so, Brother," I said.

"Nay," he replied, still refusing to look at my face. "I have never lain with anyone, much less a man. How shall I please thee? What if I hurt thee? I have never felt so…uncertain before, in all my life. It is as if I am stumbling about in the dark without a torch."

"The Mighty Thor, uncertain?" I reached out to settle my hand on his shoulder, giving him an encouraging massage. This appeared to ease the strain in his limbs after a time. "Thee have never once doubted thyself. Why start now?"

"This is different. In battle I am trained, but in this…I have no experience."

"Thee fret so, yet thee assume I have any more experience than thee."

"Thee have at least lain with another…in a sense."

"That is hardly what I would call it," I remarked with a grimace. "We can discover this together."

"My mind has always been on glory in battle, on being a worthy heir, a future king. Not…such dealings."

"…If it torments thee so, I can bestow the knowledge upon thee with magic."

He glanced up. "Thee can do such a thing?"

"I can try."

"I thought thee had no knowledge of such things…"

"I said I had not experience; knowledge is another matter entirely. If thee had ever bothered to study, thee might not be so melancholy, Brother. The hall of records is not simply for decoration."

He frowned. "As I said, glory in battle has always been my focus. If thee can bestow the knowledge, do so."

"Are thee certain? If I am successful, I may not be able to reverse the spell."

"I care not. Do so." He brushed the heel of his hand over his hardness, his face crinkling with the contact. "I long to satisfy us both this night."

I resisted the urge to lick my lips at the sight of him cupping his own wanton flesh. "Very well," I whispered.

We sat up and I placed my open palms with one at either side of his head. I closed my eyes and recited the spell in my mind, feeling the power gather in my chest and erupt through my arms, flooding into him like water from a river flowing downstream. He took a breath, his face wrinkling with discomfort, but he said nothing in protest. I took back my hands and he shook his head as if he were dizzy.

"Such a strange, disorienting sensation," he mumbled. "Do all spells feel this way?"

"Ones that tamper with thy mind, yes. Did it work?"

"I believe so… At least, I feel confident again."

"I only sharpened thy instincts."

"If I do anything to offend or harm thee, Brother, stop me. Instruct me. Command me."

My arousal sharpened at those words. "Thee would truly…take orders from me?"

He moved closer to me across the bed. "I have always heard thy council."

"Heard, not obeyed."

"In this instance, I will do so. Gladly."

"Very well… Begin with thy hand, just as before." I wrapped mine around his manhood for encouragement, and his whole body flexed like a single muscle. He groaned softly when I began to pump him up and down and he followed my lead, gathering me in the crook of his big arm and stroking me again, this time with explicit intent.

I let out a gratified moan and he slunk in closer, taking my ready lips. My tongue slithered against his in a heated dance, all as we continued to pleasure one another. His taste had engulfed me by the time he pulled away to groan avidly, his hips gyrating beyond his control. As the moments passed, he forgot entirely to touch me in return.

It seemed my brother was easy to please.

I smirked to myself before I took back my hand. He immediately opened his eyes in a confused rage but I simply held him at bay to kiss my way down his muscular body. He let me go, tensing at each point of contact, jolting as I came upon a nipple to suck and fondle.

"Did I say thee could stop touching me?" I asked snidely.

"Brother…"

"If thee stop touching me…why should I have any reason to touch thee in kind?"

"Loki…thee mischievous…"

I smirked, waiting for him to replace his hand before I continued downward, licking a path across his pelvis. I traced my finger through the fine flaxen hair at the juncture of his hips.

Here I paused, panning my eyes up to see him suffering in anticipation. I waited, staring into him, until he realized he was neglecting me yet again. He returned his attentions to me, making me sigh. I drew out his suffering with a caress to his thigh followed by a long, slovenly lick. He groaned almost painfully and glared down into my eyes. He was whimpering, begging, and I felt so powerful.

I loved it.

I kept my eyes on his as I ran just the tip of my tongue along his engorged shaft. He faltered immediately, but kept his eyes fixedly on mine, forcing himself to please me. I let the edge of my mouth curl upwards as I lathed his swollen skin, so stiff and yet soft as velvet.

He let out his voice in a rumbling, incoherent demand for more and rolled onto his back. He all but pulled me along by my hair, settling his upper body against the mountain of pillows and holding me fast between his legs. I struggled and he let me go, his expression frankly pitiful.

He was acting without meaning to, I realized. These were new sensations for him, most likely overwhelming. I could forgive his neglect of me just to watch him writhe this way…

I slid my hands up and down his thighs, hoping to both entice and calm him. The time for words had passed, and I opted instead for action. He would understand that best, and feel the least intimidated by forthcoming. Battles of wits and words were not one of his many strengths; he was a master of the body, not the mind…

And verily, his body was a sight to behold. His male organ was so thick and long I doubted any ability to swallow it far. Perhaps I would have to cheat a little and shape-shift certain parts of me to accommodate him… I did not want to resort to that, however. Feeling all of him, full and willful deep inside me, was a daydream so formerly forbidden that my mouth now watered just pondering it. Of course, I did not want to discourage him either, so I contemplated.

"Loki," he said, the sound strangled. I came back to myself, realizing I had left him dangling in so feeble a state. I smiled deviously at him before I slunk in close and took him in both hands. He opened his mouth to moan freely as I manipulated him with my skilled fingers. I could have enhanced each tiny sensation with magic to double his pleasure, but I wanted nothing and no one in all the Nine Realms to interfere.

This night, it would be only he and I.

I craned down to bathe him with my tongue, coating him from his base to the point of his blade. His girth was daunting, nearly the circumference of my wrist, but I would never yield now that I had him complacent in my bed. I never thought I could have the Mighty Thor so utterly at my mercy, but he was helpless as I lapped and suckled him. He was like a mewling child, pulverizing his lip with his top teeth as if battling internally to withhold his voice. He had always been so damned stubborn.

I was tantalized being able orchestrate such weakness in him, so much so that I felt myself grow harder. Spurred, I lowered one hand to cup the dual weights below his shaft, and this forced him to outright give a cry. The flesh here was heavy with unbidden desire, and taut now from arousal, but it was so soft and tender. Tentatively, I lapped at it. He fisted my hair so violently I thought he might tear it out. I let him feel just the barest edge of my teeth and his hands clamped violently on my shoulders.

"Allfather," he grunted.

I departed him there and licked upwards, lifting on my knees so I could finally sate both our gluttonous urges by taking him into my mouth. I swallowed him as far as I could, having to hold my breath just to reach him. I could never take him all, but I repressed every reflex and took him to my limits, pumping him in and out of my throat, using my tongue, letting my saliva flow freely.

"Brother," he gasped, grabbing at my hair. "Oh, thee must not…cease…"

"I am the one giving orders, remember?"

He growled below his breath and I mirrored it with a chuckle before I utilized my mouth and hands simultaneously to encompass his entire length. The muscles in his abdomen banded so tightly they were as firm as metal. I never slowed in my actions even as his hips began to thrust along with me, threatening to make me gag. His enthusiasm only made me all the more eager. This was as close to dominating him as I would ever come if he became king. After tonight, I would retreat from him again, the distance between us solidified, and I would become merely another of his subjects.

Cold and resentful in his shadow.

My hands glided like the snakes I was often associated with, kneading his heavy sack and palming his thick shaft, all as my mouth played with the throbbing head of him as a musician would play an instrument. His blunt nails began to dig into my skin as they nudged me against him, unconsciously, harder and harder. His buttocks clenched below and the tendons in his legs became iron bands. He would meet his summit any moment, and I would not relent until I possessed it.

"Brother," he hacked out. "Brother, I am—"

Words again failed him as a guttural cry leapt from his throat and he convulsed, unleashing gush after gush of his boiling essence into my mouth. I could not contain it all and parted from him, feeling the last burst of it christen my neck and chest. I swallowed what I could, its flavor richly sweet, and sat back to catch my breath. I watched with delicious satisfaction as he warred to recover. His enormous chest was heaving, his breathing ragged, and I saw now that perspiration spangled his golden surface. So rarely did gods such as ourselves break a sweat, so this was indeed an ordeal for him.

This was mine, this moment, and at least it could never be taken from me.

I smiled, wiping at the stain that clung to the underside of my chin. He finally opened his eyes, drunkenly lolling about in search of me. I sat forward as he held out his arm, letting him bring me to him. He gathered me up, spreading me atop his broad torso, not allowing me the luxury of choice. Our manhoods were flush with each other now, and I withheld a moan as he wrapped me in his arms.

I braced myself on his chest and held his hulking shoulders as I straddled him, wanting so badly to rut against him, but still he needed to chase his breath. The triumphant grin could not be torn from my face even as I was suspended in a tortuous limbo.

Thor at last seemed to calm himself, for he ran his knuckles across my jaw and combed his fingers through my hair. He looked up at me, and then suddenly frowned. "Forgive me, Brother," he said, and I was momentarily confused before he lifted the edge of the sheet and wiped my neck and upper chest clean of his seed.

"Such a thing can hardly be helped," I mentioned.

"Perhaps, but even so… I do not like to think of thee ever being sullied."

I let out a brief sigh. He had no inkling. "It is not thy place to fret over such things."

"Loki, thee are the one thing I still allow myself to fret over."

I met his eyes and then tore them away. They were too earnest, too kind. I hated when they looked at me that way, but I hated it with even more ferocity if they looked that way at anyone else. I simultaneously despised and loved my brother, and both emotions burned with equal heat, and equal covetousness.

"Thee have done me a great service," he was saying. "I should repay it in kind."

"Yes, thee should."

He held me in the crook of his arm and rolled us so that we lay on our sides against the pillows. The fur coverlet was wickedly soft against my bare legs, but pathetic in comparison to his hair as it washed over my naked body. He took me in his mouth with little hesitation, his boldness born of drink and the effects of my spell, spreading my legs apart with one hand while he worked my plump sack with the other. I held onto the backs of his shoulders lest I float away.

Thor's touches were hurried, hungry, and reached me in places I had long ago buried. I never thought it possible I would feel this, feel him. Of all my wicked desires, this was by far the most wicked, yet here I had won it.

I had finally won.

I surmounted with a jerk, moaning with it, punching my nails into his back. He withdrew, drinking me, and wiped the excess from his chin. He licked his lips with a glance at me, and his smoldering expression made my bones weak.

Without warning, he arced me by a grip under both my knees, forcing me to bend at the waist with my shins in the air. "Thor," I barked, but then I felt his tongue in that place, seeking out my entrance with lack of procedure but no lack of self-assurance. He was nestled between my legs, his face not visible to me at such an angle, but I felt as he licked me wet, and I all but burrowed into the bedding when his tongue prodded inside. "Dear, sweet Valhalla," I cursed.

When he nudged a long, tapered finger inside me, I flinched at the foreign invasion, baring my teeth in discomfort. He explored this part of me as curiously as all the rest, and I knew that I would bear whatever pain occurred.

"This hurts, Brother?" he asked.

"Nay," I lied. "There is no pain."

I craved more but he moved away, the pressure of him exploring my tunnel vanishing. I wasted no time in turning over and showing him where I wanted him to go, offering myself like a virgin bride. There could no longer be any shame between us tonight. There was nothing left but possibilities.

"Thee have no inkling as to how much I need thee inside me," I hissed, watching him over my shoulder. He was fixated, his muscles bulging, his organ twitching. He ran his hand over my thigh before he took hold of himself and rubbed his seeping head against my needful core. I shuddered, moaning, and watched him run his tongue across his lips once, twice. I clasped a pillow to my chest and waited, anticipation making me quiver in delight.

But he hesitated. "Surely I will hurt thee?"

"It matters not," I said dismissively. "Have me, Brother."

"Nay… Wait."

"Thee cannot ask me to wait any longer than I already have," I began to argue, but he moved away from me entirely, his weight shifting on the bed. My heart sank like a stone in my chest. I turned to protest more avidly, determined to persuade him, but he was only grabbing my goblet from the table.

He inhaled above the rim and then sipped it. "As I thought; thy usual drink of wine and honey."

"What of it?"

He returned with the goblet, kneeling behind me and dipping his fingers in the basin. His intentions were made clear when his finger entered me again, this time slick with honeyed wine. It hurt less this way, leaving ample potential for pleasure. I was somewhat impressed he was being so logical when so inebriated, but it had to be the influence of my spell.

He withdrew and then returned with two fingers at once, the slightly viscous fluid lending grace and ease to his clumsy, loutish character. "Yes," I gasped into the pillow. "More." My body moved of its own volition, bucking into him, demanding. I was just shy of touching myself when he pulled away and did not come back to me. I turned over to see what was the matter, and he had sat back, just within reach of me, the goblet held rigidly in one hand and his head bowed. "Thor?" I questioned.

He shook his head. "I cannot," he said. "Thee are much too small and…so very tight." He bit his lip a moment, heaving a stuttered sigh. "If I take thee, I will cause damage. Thee will…suffer as a female does. I cannot bear the thought, Brother…"

I had finally lost all semblance of patience. "Enough of this, thee simpering maid!" I barked. He looked taken aback, his eyes going wide and his brow elevating. "Thee have come this far, destroyed any ability I may have had to keep my desires contained, tempted me to the point of torment, and now when it is finally time to consummate, it is thee who are wilting like a female!"

"Loki, I do not wish to hurt thee—"

"Thee would say anything to escape thy own petty self-doubt!" I sat up and grabbed him by his hair, tugging it hard and smashing his lips into mine. I pulled back and he was speechless. "Take me, Brother. For all the ills thee have ever caused me, whether intended or nay, give me this one night in recompense."

"Brother—"

"Take me or I shall transform thee into a blind, humpbacked dwarf with a lame foot and nary an ability to grow a beard!"

"Thee would not—"

I gave him my sternest scowl and lifted my hands, letting the emerald glow of my magic ignite between them.

"Very well!" he exclaimed, taking my wrists. "Please, Brother, still thy spell. I never meant I refused thee. Indeed, I am…" His eyes were white-hot again before they flittered away. "I am most tempted. All but drowning." He was being shy, I realized. It was frankly a shock to experience this; it was a completely unprecedented side of him. "It was thy wellbeing alone that halted me," he insisted.

"My wellbeing is my concern and not thine," I said, and ran my tongue across his lips, leaving them damp before I spoke against them. "I would feel thee move inside me, making us as one." He took a breath, and I breathed with him. "Either thee shall do so as promised or I shall subject thee to the worst kind of living Hel."

"Thee need not threaten," he said, pushing me onto the bed and turning me face-down, bringing my backside toward his loins. "If thee wave any concerns over being wounded, then I shall no longer take responsibility." Without another pause he tipped the goblet and let a stream of the liquid pour over my yearning, using his fingers to coax it inside. The excess dribbled down my sack and gathered to trickle along my erection, further torturing me. Thor did not notice and instead used what remained in the goblet to coat his manhood, making it glossy.

"Now, Thor," I was saying, watching him over my shoulder as he grabbed hold of both my hips and tilted them how he liked, letting me feel him examine that aching place; he hard and wet and so, so ready.

He lanced his way inside me and I bit my teeth together viciously, not wanting him to stop for fear of harming me. This was what I wanted and I refused to show any uncertainty to him. My pride would not allow it.

I clawed at the pillow beneath my chest as I felt my body be opened to his blade, taking him in. He thrust out and back into me, going deeper with each powerful stroke, unheeding of protecting me any longer. He was ruled by his desires, as I wished, and even the entire army of Jotunheim would not stop him now. He was starving, claiming, heedless now of any plea I might have made, though I kept as silent as I could.

Thor was ripping me apart, I could feel myself tear in his wake, inflicting a level of pain I was not accustomed to, as a god. Tears sprang to my eyes but I would steadfastly endure. I let my head fall forward against the pillows as his hands dictated my lower body, making me his conquest.

And he mine.

I moaned, drool pooling up on my tongue and beginning to obstruct my ability to breathe. He heaved against me, inside me, in my skin and blood and soul. There was too much pain now for me to finish my pleasure, so I remained achingly hard with no release. Thor was so relentless he did not even take pause to notice, and labored on like a machine. I could not support myself on my arms anymore and slumped to my chest upon the bed, letting his body rule mine.

I felt his hair rustle along my spine and suddenly his breathing was near. "Loki, is there pain?" he grunted, at last turning his concerns to me.

"Nay—"

He grabbed me by my chin, jerking it once. "Do not lie to me, Trickster," he demanded, stopping his onslaught, going still all around me.

"Yes," I gasped. "There is pain."

"Would thee have me stop?" Concern broke his voice, and his hand moved gentler along my chin.

I reached blindly back and pulled him hard by his hair. "Stop, and I shall transform thee into a troll, rather than a dwarf."

He chuckled, softly, against the back of my head, before he resumed. The sounds spilling from my mouth were most undignified, and so weak, but it was beyond my help. "Do I at least please thee, Loki?"

"Yes. Oh, yes…" He could not begin to fathom it. "And thee?" I was suddenly horrified that I would be inadequate. I could not bear to fall short of him yet again, not in this instance, not when I was melting so.

"Verily, thee feel…so good," he moaned, killing my paranoid fears. "Better than I ever imagined…"

"Thee have imagined how I would feel in bed, Brother?" I asked, slyly. "What a coincidence: I have done the very same."

I laughed stutteringly and he joined in. It was a moment of mutual joviality, no envy or malice behind it. It was relatively rare for us these past few months, with the Ascension looming between us. This was the closest we had ever been, in any sense. He was correct; there was a time, not so long ago, when we were inseparable.

A pang of regret stung at me, but I pushed it aside.

Thor kissed the back of my shoulder before he rolled us onto our sides, never parting us, and held up my leg so he could continue his commanding thrusts. I molded my body to him, reaching back to clutch his hair. His breath battered the side of my neck, and his other arm crept around my waist. He first played at my aching nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger.

"It seems my spell worked well upon thee," I breathed.

"Perhaps," he whispered, that molten hand drifting down to wrap around my shaft. "Or perhaps thy body is so splendid that I can do nothing else but please thee."

"Thor, enough; thee will not believe thusly come the light of dawn."

"Impossible." He began to cup and stroke my entire maleness, trading which he touched with a maddening pace. "I swear to thee nothing shall change upon the morn, Brother mine." He planted his lips on the side of my neck, just below my ear. "Dearest one."

"…It is precisely because I am thy brother that thee shall abandon me."

He squeezed my tender need and I shut up, crushing his hair in my fist. "Never," he said.

"Thor…"

He suddenly pulled out of me, startling me from the abrupt hollowness. I was about to inquire but he was already flipping me onto my back and lifting me under the knees, spreading my thighs and looming between them. He made way for himself, his upper body draping over mine, our faces meeting.

"I shall look thee in the eyes whilst I prove myself to thee, Loki."

He plunged back inside me and my arms bolted around his neck. He kept a grip on one of my thighs and reached the other to brace himself above my head as he resumed his colossal thrusts. I could not possibly hide here, so I let loose my voice, embracing him as we flowed together. I hooked my ankles over his buttocks, locking him to me with all my limbs so that we were knotted together.

Some soft part of me wanted to believe his promise, but I was not such a fool.

"By Yggdrasil, Brother, thee are so taut. I shall gain my seat in Valhalla before I am ever satisfied in thee…" he uttered.

"Such drivel…" Though honestly I was pleased. Part of what kept my yearning for him restrained all these years was the pitiful fear of rejection, of insufficiency. Why would Thor, so handsome, so mighty, be tempted by one such as I, when he could have any maiden he desired?

He kept to his word and watched me as we moved together, so I watched him in return. Every tiny change in facial expression, every drop of sweat, every mote of pain or pleasure or passion, was noted by the other. Even if I had dared imagine any intimacy between us, I could never have imagined it would be so devoted, so complete. He was ruthless, never once slowing his gait or taking his eyes off of me. His grip banded forcibly against my flesh as his arousal rose towards its sight. I would be bruised and bloodied by the time he was finished with me, and that was exactly what I wanted.

Thor's eyes, here in the throes of desire, looked so clear to me. Clearer than they had ever been. Could this run deeper in him than a whim brought on by drink? Was it truly possible this could endure between us? Would I allow it even if it were?

His face fell apart and he quickened his pace, his broad shoulders bunching and his head dropping. I grabbed hold of his hair and brought him to kiss me, our tongues lashing, coiling. Between our lips colliding, he fought to speak. "Brother," he was muttering. I tried to shut him up with more succulent kisses, but he insisted. "Brother mine, I love thee," he said.

"Yes," I whispered. I had no other response to give, but it mattered not. Everything was culminated then in a great, roaring commotion: muscle and tendon contracted, voices rose, hands and legs locked, spines bowed, and at last we spent ourselves in a paralyzing rush, oiling each other in our seed.

Thor's massive body gave out, and I feared he would crush me but he managed to bear himself just enough so that I did not have to hold his full weight. I was wound so tightly around him it took several moments for me to liberate the hold of my arms and legs. My energy was sapped so thoroughly that I let my limp appendages simply drop to the bed. His hulking chest pounded against mine as if he had taken Mjölnir to it, battering it as a smith would an anvil.

It was a long while we lay there pressed, recovering ourselves, chasing after our breathing. When he mustered the ability to move, he lifted himself off of me, pulling his still-hard manhood from me in the process. I groaned at the emptiness, feeling his essence spill from me like a flood. He rolled over onto his side next to me, and I looked down to see the state he had put me in. Along with his seed, there was blood as well. That was no surprise, although I was not accustomed to shedding such an extensive amount of blood.

I turned back to face him, and he looked just as dubious as he did exhausted. "Loki, how fare thee?" he whispered, reaching out to cup my face.

"Perfectly," I replied.

"There is…much pain?" It was barely a question. He could see the blood as well as I, see where he had left my skin reddened and sore.

"Some," I admitted, "but it is a small price to pay indeed, when compared to the pleasure thee hath given." A tinge of crimson showed in his face a bit, but he managed to smile. "And what of thee, Thunderer?"

"I am…" He cleared his throat and pulled me closer to him, cradling me in the arc of his arm. "I am content."

I rested my head on his bulging bicep, reveling in the moment, the afterglow. I had heard of such things, read about them in stories, but I never thought I would know it myself. I always assumed my first coupling would be with whatever trite woman my parents selected for my bride. I had accepted a future of joyless fornication in an unhappy marriage bed with a woman I could never love.

But this… This was infinitely sweeter.

I noticed my seed had been deposited in a stream from his belly to his chest. We were marked by one another now, and even if he never remembered, I would cherish this night. This one, single night where I had captured and subdued him, where I held all the power between us.

After a time, it became clear that he was dozing, and I watched the relaxation come over his handsome features, peeling both the passion and the strain away, leaving only peace.

"Thor?" I said.

His golden eyebrows wrinkled. "Hmm?"

"If we were not brothers…" I trailed off.

He opened his eyes a bit to gaze at me, sleepily. "What sayeth thee?"

"What would thee do if we were not brothers?"

"Such nonsense," he mumbled, and let an obnoxious yawn explode from him. "We are the sons of Odin. Everyone in all the Nine Realms knows of us, our noble blood."

"Yes," I conceded, "but I ask a simple question. What if tomorrow thee learned that I was not Loki Odinson? What if we were not brothers at all?"

"If that happened, I would do nothing," he answered, and yawned again.

"Nothing?"

"If thee were not Loki Odinson, thee would still be Brother mine. I would not forsake thee, or love thee any less. If we were not part of one another's blood before, we are now."

I pondered his answer, wondering how honest it was. He was halfway lost to slumber, so his word was not trustworthy. Not that it mattered. I was a son of Odin, even if not the favored one. Even if we were not blood, this would never last. Thor was too radiant, too proud, to ever settle for his lesser brother.

"Sleep well, Brother mine," Thor was saying, drifting away again.

It seemed there would be no waking him now, so I resigned myself to my place in his possessive arms and used my magic to gather the sable fur over our naked bodies with a wave of my hand. A closing of my fist extinguished every lamp, throwing my chamber into darkness. I preferred darkness and cold, as no other Asgardian did. I had always been strange; it was no wonder Odin preferred Thor's gleaming to my shadow. He would better represent the noble bloodline of Borr, look better in a golden palace…

I sighed in frustration, doing my best to abandon such thoughts. This dream was over, and come the morrow, I would wake before Thor and use my magic to make everything as it was. I would hand him the convenient truth that he had gotten drunk in despair and come storming into my room in a tirade. Then I would tell him that he merely passed unconscious from the mead and fallen asleep in my chambers. I always woke before he did; all I had to do was conjure a spell to return his garments and my robe, clean the bedding, and be rid of the scent of lovemaking.

Simple enough, and then it would be as if this never was.