It is a fickle thing, this lust. An anomaly Loki has always recognized and denied since the days of his youth. It was a near impossible feat not to secretly desire or crave the taste, touch, or feel of the Thunderer. Many apparently had delved into the golden fruit, rumored the flesh to be just as sweet and succulent when they took the first bite, as they had predicted when it had only hung from one of the tree's many sturdy branches.

This lust, Loki berates keeps him tethered — caught—trapped like an insect straining desperately in a spider's web, stuck in his own game, surely destined to lose.

This is a game Loki never expected Thor to play.

Loki has always flirted with the idea of possibility—testing the boundaries, but never over stepping their boarders—Loki is not so much delusional into thinking he has any hope or chance of ever becoming something that does not resemble brother or comrade.

Nevertheless, Loki seems to miscalculate the psyche of the Thunderer—his not brother. Just when Loki believes he has a firm, steady understanding of Thor and what he is—never shocking or doubting Loki's perception—Thor squirms away, running to new heights that make Loki eager, but hesitant to follow.

This day is no different.

Thor is sheathed inside him—heavy, thick, and hot—an intrusion that has Loki wiggling his hips at how full he feels. He curses Thor bitterly, banging his head down hard into the floor where he grits his teeth. Sweat drenches his forehead as he scrapes his black nails along the cabin's shabby wooden floors, creating scratch marks that leave tiny splinters of wood embedded under his skin. He welcomes the pain; it keeps him grounded—keeps him from feeling how amazing Thor's cock feels inside of him, pulsing and twitching.

Loki's legs are held shamefully wide open—spread to either side of him at the knees, and Thor's gaze watches intently at the meeting of tan and alabaster skin.

Loki wants to spit venom in his eyes.

"Have you—ngh—lost what's left of your mind Thor?" Loki says savagely, rasp to his words. "You'd fuck me?—your own brother?"

Thor calmly exhales through his nose, still watching how he disappears in Loki's body, working inches of his long, hard cock slowly in and out of his body.

"It hasn't stopped you before has it Loki?" Thor grunts, biting his plump bottom lip with the effort. "From thinking about it—from thinking about you and me like this."

Loki's eyes widen with horror at the realization, immediately blocking his gaze with his forearm as Thor casts his scrutiny over Loki's trembling form.

So foolish! Of course, he would underestimate the perception of Thor's insight. How could he have been so careless?

"I've known—I've known for so long—Loki." The angle changes as Thor lowers his body on top of Loki's, and he gasps, twisting and turning, frantic to get away from the heat—from the sudden overwhelming feel of skin on skin—from Thor's simple existence.

Loki moans as Thor circles his hips in a way that carries him in even deeper, and Loki bites and tears at his lip hard enough for it to bleed in punishment for letting the sound even through, and to prevent any more from voicing out.

"I saw how you would always look at me—your eyes—oh Loki—There were just some days where I couldn't—"

Thor buries his nose in the crook of Loki's neck, inhaling and nuzzling the saturated skin before licking a heated stripe up the side, only to move up and enclose his torrid mouth around Loki's earlobe and bites the sensitive skin harshly.

Loki jolts, making his straining, leaking cock bounce deliciously, unconsciously spreading the girth of his legs. Loki needlessly leans into the feverous touch where Thor tongue fucks into his ear canal, as if mimicking the actions down below and Loki's head reels.

"Thor stop." He says weakly—breathlessly—contradicting his own actions as he grabs a hand full of blond hair, bringing it impossibly closer to him and Loki feels a smug smile against the shell of his ear.

"You want this. You've wanted it forever." Thor softly says as he fits his mouth perfectly over Loki's, and the god of mischief, for once, does not disagree.

The cabin that they have only for a short time inhabited intermixes with smells of sex, sweat, and their own common scents.

Loki does not know how many times Thor has taken him, only enough to know that his hole overflows with Thor's come, trickling down his thighs, and he desires more of it—in his mouth—in his hair—all over his body—everywhere.

They are gods and their stamina is known to be legendary, but Loki vaguely ponders as he rides Thor, that one cannot hold a candle to the will of their own.

"Oh Thor—ah—nhg—oh fuck yes! Harder!" Loki bounces up and down in Thor's lap, his thighs straining with exertion as he slams himself down on his brother's cock, grinding on the base before rising and doing it all over again.

Staring down at Thor with wild, intense eyes, mouth open as slight dribble works down his chin, Loki thinks the Thunder god is something to behold.

Thor's wrecked.

Roaring his appreciation into the positively charged air, as he works his hips—fast and hard—in tandem with Loki's. Running a hand that isn't plastered to his hip (which has already started showing black and blue bruises) Thor runs his right hand over his chest, tweaking his perk, pink nipples in harsh tugs that leave Loki thrusting out his chest for more.

"Oh how I love your cock—so fucking long and thick—hits all the—AH—right places."

His prostate his hammered into relentlessly at rate that Loki surely believes would handicap a human. Thor is too prideful to give him anything else than that, and it makes Loki want to laugh. Although he is utterly unable as moan after moan rips shrill from his throat. It is sore with it.

"Thor! Thor—coming—oh fuck you're gonna make me come. Thor!" In an explosion of pure white, white ropes of Loki's come shoot over his and Thor's chest, landing with a quiet, wet splat.

Loki tumbles over, no longer able to hold himself up as Thor frantically ruts into his body, seeking out his own release, only seconds later achieving it, coming with Loki on his lips.

Come warmer than the previous floods steadily through his body, and Loki sighs content.

Everything, for now in Thor's arms, seems harmonious.