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Loki had known about it, of course. He hadn’t had anything to do with it (if he had, the hundred-foot killer begonia that had grown up overnight in a city park would not have been susceptible to some powerful herbicides and the overgrown weed-whacker that was a spinning Mjolnir) but he had been amused to watch the Avengers scrambling to save the city’s inhabitants from the vicious flower. He had been briefly worried when Thor, in the process of cutting through a writhing tangle of roots, had been smacked squarely in the face with a flying ball of yellowish pollen—apparently it was one of the thing’s pitiful attempts at self-defense—and Loki felt himself involuntarily tense as he considered that the stuff might be poisonous, but then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. This was Thor. He wasn’t going to be killed by a plant, even if it happened to be a mutant plant with a bad attitude towards members of the kingdom Animalia.
When Thor showed up at his door that evening, he was less certain. It was odd in one sense, in that he hadn’t thought Thor even knew how to find him, but he ignored that detail in favor of taking in the sight of his brother’s flushed skin, the sheen of sweat, the wild eyes.
“Loki, brother… please, I must… speak to you,” Thor choked out in tense little gasps, and for a moment Loki wondered if this might be a delayed reaction to poisonous pollen. And he invited him inside.
“What’s happened to you?” he said, turning nonchalantly and leading Thor into the next room (where there happened to be a couch in case Thor suddenly fell over unconscious. Loki always liked to think ahead.) “I heard about the begonia, but I had not imagined you would still be winded from the fight. Might you be going soft here among your Midgardians? Losing your renowned and so-celebrated strength?”
Thor didn’t even seem to notice the jab. “No, it’s not that… the pollen… I fear it has affected me,” he said. As he spoke his eyes did not meet Loki’s, and Loki took the chance to study him. Thor stood in the center of the room, his hands rhythmically clenching at his sides so tightly that Loki imagined the nails had to be cutting into skin, and his chest rose and fell like he had just run across the continent. He was clearly agitated. But not in anger.
“Oh? How so?” Loki asked, though he began to suspect the answer.
Thor still did not look at him, staring resolutely at the floor, and he squirmed as he fumbled for words. “I… I would not come to you for this if I had any other choice, brother. I know things have been… difficult between us for some time, and that now you certainly care little for me, and have no reason to wish to help me…”
Loki just stood calmly where he was, arms crossed, wondering with some amusement how long it would take for Thor to approach his point.
“…and I know that this request will be a strange one—perhaps there has never been one stranger. Believe me when I say I have considered all the other options. But you and I, we are the only two Asgardians here, and… at least I would not have to fear for your safety…” He went on like this for a while, only growing more apparently uncomfortable, shifting on his feet, muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching tight, eyes flitting to and away from Loki’s face.
“I know it is I and not you who is known for being silver-tongued, but I’d rather not stand here all night while you beat around the bush,” Loki said, cutting him off at last. “Ask me what you mean to ask. I think perhaps I am feeling generous, if it helps at all.”
At that moment Thor’s eyes snapped to his, and Loki was startled by the feeling he saw there, the look of someone whose very life depends upon something that he fears he cannot have. The expression looked horrendously out of place there.
And then, as if whatever thin thread of self-restraint that had been holding him back suddenly broke, Thor closed the distance between them with a single step. His arms came up to press and pull against Loki, one hand curling softly against Loki’s neck, the other wrapped around the small of his back, bringing him close in small motions that Thor seemed unable to control. So close, Loki breathed in his brother’s scent; mingled with the smell of Thor’s sweat there was something else, something sweet, intoxicating and honey-thick, and it made Loki’s mouth go dry, though he kept his expression impassive. He realized that Thor was murmuring, eyes heavy-lidded, his face a few scant inches away from Loki’s.
“Loki, I need you… I need…” Thor’s voice trailed off into a whine, even though he clenched his teeth against it.
“Ah.” Loki smiled darkly as Thor’s warm hands pawed at his body. “You need… what from me?”
“You know what I ask for,” Thor said, his voice low and agonized, “Will you give it or not?” He didn’t seem able to stop himself from nuzzling at Loki’s neck, brushing his lips over the skin.
Yes, Loki knew. But there was something too tempting about Thor’s inability to say it.
“How am I to know what you’re in need of?” he said innocently, pulling back half a step as if he had barely noticed that Thor was behaving as a lovestruck youth. “You show up at my door to beg for something you can’t even name?”
After a moment, Thor’s heavy-lidded eyes met Loki’s—his own expression amused and verging on predatory—and Thor’s chin dipped in a shudder of feeling.
“Bed me, Loki,” he said in a low, strained voice. “I need you to… only you can give what I need… please, brother…”
“Ah. I see.” For a moment he made no move, his eyes glinting as he looked Thor up and down. “Perhaps I could…” Loki murmured as he moved smoothly forward to capture his brother’s lips with his own. Thor’s mouth opened gratefully to his, a moan rumbling in his chest, and Loki could taste the barest hint of that honey scent on his tongue.
“My dear brother,” Loki said, breaking the kiss after a minute and raising a hand to stroke down Thor’s face. “You would come to me like this? You would come to me, so desperate, and ask me to fuck you, because you don’t trust yourself with anyone else as you are?” Feeling something wrench in his chest, Loki twined his fingers into Thor’s golden hair and pulled harshly, bringing a cry from Thor’s lips and making him surge forward to press himself even more firmly against Loki’s body. “Well, under the circumstances, how could I refuse you?”
It was simply too good to be true, Loki thought. Thor was pressed against him, eyes lust-dark, almost inaudible whimpers coming from his throat, and his hands scrabbled hesitantly at Loki’s sides as if he wasn’t sure how to get more of the contact he so needed. Whatever the pollen was, the effect it’d had on Thor was clear. Thor would do anything he asked in that moment, would submit utterly to whatever Loki wanted, just so long as it involved Loki’s skin on his own. The knowledge thrilled through Loki like a flame, and the thought of only a few of the things he might try made his breath catch in his throat, made his heart beat loud and fast in his ears.
Thor was pliant as Loki guided him through a few backward steps until together they thumped against the wall, and there he wove his fingers in with his brother’s and pushed his hands back against the wall until Thor was pinned there, arms spread out in a parody of helplessness. Thor’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths as he squirmed there under Loki’s appraising gaze.
“Oh, you do need this, don’t you, brother?” Loki laughed. He had never imagined having Thor like this—in all his daydreams it had been full of growls and glares and resentful hisses. He had imagined taking Thor’s proud anger between his fingers, grabbing and twisting, laughing as his brother crumbled in his mocking embrace. He had never imagined having Thor mewling and rubbing against him, submitting without so much as a breath of resistance.
“Loki,” Thor said, struggling to retain some composure in the face of overwhelming lust, “why do you delay? Please…”
“Don’t worry,” Loki soothed, releasing one of his brother’s hands so he could reach down between them and press his palm against Thor’s hardness through fabric, and felt Thor’s hips jolt in response. “I’m going to give you what you want.”
It was probably a good thing that Thor’s eyes had fallen shut, his head tilted back, pulse beating in his neck—because even in his state, he might have been alarmed at the expression on Loki’s face, all teeth and glinting eyes. Of course Thor would blame him for this when it was all over, even though he’d had nothing to do with the begonia, and possibly he would hate him as well. But Loki was not one to miss an opportunity, and he fully intended to make the most of this for as long as he had it.
*
It had been but a moment’s work to get Thor out of his clothes—even though Thor was too eager to prove more than a hindrance, unable to keep still as Loki’s hands brushed across his skin, moans emerging from deep in his throat with each slight contact. Once Thor’s outfit was crumpled into a pile in the corner of the room, Loki stepped back to take in the sight of him, if only for a moment before Thor’s addled lust drove them on. He knew well the look of Thor’s body, though he had never expected to have it as his for the taking. He ran his hands possessively over the long planes of Thor’s sides, down perfect skin over hard muscle, trailing his thumb in the dusting of golden hair low on Thor’s belly.
“What will make this easy for you?” he asked, coming close enough to brush his lips against Thor’s cheek as he took him in hand, feeling himself shudder as the action wrung a gasp from Thor. “You cannot have wished to come to me with this need. Your own brother, and one who does not love you so tenderly. Would it help if I got down on my knees, a subject before his king, and sucked you until you spilled down my throat?” He watched as the icy blue of Thor’s eyes gleamed under fluttering eyelids, heard the hitch in his breath. “It seems you like the sound of that. Perhaps you have imagined it before? … No, of course not.” Loki stroked Thor’s length thoughtfully. “Or maybe you’d rather have me on my knees in another fashion, or on my back to take me as one takes a woman, in a coupling rough or gentle…”
“Loki,” Thor whined, squirming under the onslaught of words from his brother’s silver tongue. “Please, Loki…”
Loki licked his lips and dipped his head, breathing deeply of Thor’s scent, lips twisting in a sly smile.
“Yes, brother. I know. I know how you need, and I know what you desire.” He guided Thor over to the bed and pushed him onto it. “I know all about that.”
Thor went down easily, sprawling fully across the sheets and looking up at Loki with a dazed need painted across his face, apparent in his whole body. And although Loki was still fully clothed, he could not resist at that moment making a truth of his words and turning that truth into something else, kneeling between Thor’s spread legs and taking him into his mouth. Instead of a subject at his king’s feet, Loki was the one who commanded, who brought forth a desperate cry as his tongue curled hot and wet around Thor’s length, who made Thor’s hands grapple in a tangle of sheets as he took him down to the hilt. And—there was no denying it—the hard thickness of his brother felt so good in his mouth. Nearly as good as it felt to control him.
When Loki pulled back, stopping short of bringing him to completion, the bereft whimper that made it past Thor’s lips made every bit of blood in Loki’s body burn.
“I would have you spill while I am taking you, Thor,” Loki said, crawling forward on hands and knees so that he could whisper into Thor’s ear and breathe against it and make him shiver. “And I intend to take you now, my dear, desperate brother. This is your last chance to escape from this and find another partner to satisfy you. Is this still what you want?”
Of course there was no possibility that Thor would say no. But it would be so much better if he had to say it, to beg once again.
“Take me,” Thor said through clenched teeth, his whole body tensed and shaking with need. “Stop speaking and do it.”
Loki smiled and obeyed.
*
After quickly shucking away his clothing and taking up a bottle of slick, sweet-smelling oil from the bedside, he slid his hand along the curve of Thor’s thigh, stroked past his cock and his balls, down between his legs, scraping the tender skin there with his thumbnail along the way just to see how it made Thor shiver and spread his legs wider. He felt his own heart beating faster at the sight of his mighty brother brought to such a state. And then with little warning he pressed a finger inside, slow but inexorable, sending a jolt through Thor’s body and wringing a low groan from his lips.
“No one could look at you like this and not want,” Loki murmured as he slipped a second finger in as well and pushed them back and forth. For so long, Thor had brought up a fierce desire in him—nothing so simple as the desire to bend him over and fuck him until he came apart, though he’d indulged in that fantasy more than a few times, but instead something deeper and far more tangled. Something darker, something that grew hotter at the thought of seeing Thor destroyed and laid low as much as it did at the thought of Thor crying out in pleasure under his touch. “No one could see this and not want to have you.” Loki curled his fingers just so and watched in satisfaction as Thor’s prick bobbed against his abdomen as he canted his hips for more contact.
“You mean to torture me?” Thor stuttered out.
“Only a little,” Loki replied with a laugh.
But he was himself by then painfully hard and unwilling to wait any longer. Withdrawing his fingers, Loki pressed himself between Thor’s spread thighs, positioned the head of his cock against Thor’s entrance, and, biting down a cry at finally, at last having Thor beneath him, pushed himself inside.
It was long, slow, delicious agony, and he fixed his gaze on Thor’s face, watching as his lips fell slack on a sharp inhalation, as his eyes flew open as if he were surprised by the sensation of being penetrated.
“Yes,” Loki breathed, unable to hold the words back, his tongue doing what it would. “Look at me as I take you.”
Thor did as he said, and the soft, amazed need in his blue eyes was the sweetest thing Loki had ever seen. He drew out again slowly, slid back in, making Thor arch and writhe beneath him beautifully.
“Tell me, what does it feel like, the effect of this pollen?” Loki asked, bending suddenly low over him, the words gentle and curious. Close enough that he could see every flicker of pleasure crossing Thor’s face. “Does it make you feel as if the very air is being stolen from your lungs? Does fire throb in your blood and make every touch a torment?”
“Yes, like that,” Thor managed. “Need… such as I have never felt before.”
“Hm. I should have turned you away, you know. I should have let you suffer,” Loki said through his teeth as he nipped a series of small, sharp bites at the side of Thor’s neck, “so that perhaps you would know what it is like to be denied what you need, to have everything you most desire held just out of reach. It’s no wonder this feeling is so new to you. Everything you ever wanted always quickly became yours, as if you deserved it. And you were blind to how others suffered from want that went unfulfilled. I should stop right now and leave you in misery, just so you can finally understand.”
“No!” Thor cried out, and Loki felt him twining his legs tighter around Loki’s, pulling him closer, deeper. Thor’s hands squeezed at his arms like vise-grips.
“I should just stop,” Loki whispered.
“Please, brother, no… don’t…” This time it was almost a sob.
“I should,” he said, giving Thor a closed-lipped smile. “But I’m not that cruel. Am I?”
Thor’s eyes went wide as he looked up into Loki’s face, some kind of awareness of Loki’s meaning making it through the haze of lust. “No, you’re not… my dear little brother… my Loki…”
A hollow pause followed before Loki snarled, “Thor, you are a terrible liar,” punctuating the words with the motion of his hips and his hands, rocking Thor’s body and bruising his skin. “You should leave the lies to me.”
“Yes,” Thor said in a guttural groan, eyes squeezing shut. “Yes, Loki, anything you say. Just don’t stop.”
Silence fell again, filled only by the slap of skin and their harsh breaths.
And it was glorious, the feel of Thor’s heat around him, the raw scent of him, the knowledge that Loki could do whatever he liked at that moment and Thor would only moan for more. It was all Loki had ever wanted. And he would most likely never have it again. The thought made a sudden flare of bitterness rise higher in him, and made him wish to wring something out of Thor that wasn’t this gentle and so-unexpected surrender. Roughly, he shoved Thor’s knees down nearly to his chest—oh, how he had wanted to have Thor so pliant under him, for so long—and held them there as he pushed even deeper inside and built to a hard, fierce pace that Thor would feel for a week. “I want you to remember that you came to me for this. You came here of your own accord, asking, begging me to fuck you. You chose your evil brother to be the one to have you when some strange pollen has you lust-addled and needy. And why, Thor? We both know why. You came to me because it was convenient. You have always been able to expect my help when it came down to it, haven’t you? Because apparently I am fool enough to oblige you in your every whim. And it cannot hurt that you know I would do something so wicked as to take advantage of you like this, can it?”
The words poured out in a hiss, and it made it no easier, and no more difficult, knowing that Thor was far beyond caring what he said by that point, concerned only with the delicious torment of Loki’s cock within him and Loki’s hands on his body. He couldn’t stop the words from coming out, though.
“We both know that you would never have come here like this if you didn’t have to. You would never have come because you wanted me. All you ever do is use me—that is all anyone ever does—and yet I am the villain in your eyes.”
Loki’s lips pulled back from his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile, even as he drove into Thor yet again. Again he felt the sharp twist in the hollow of his chest. That was how it was. He was wanted insofar as he could serve a purpose, and then he was cast aside as soon as the need was fulfilled. Thor had not actually wanted him. Would never actually want him. Loki pushed the thought away and put his anger into fucking Thor with all the force he could muster. If Loki was to be used, he would at least make sure it was mutual.
But of course, Thor only enjoyed it all the more for that. Panting, occasionally moaning out a plea for more or faster, Thor’s chest rose and fell in quick gasps, and he moved to meet each of Loki’s thrusts and his hands clutched at Loki as if to keep him from pulling away. Loki could see that his brother was far gone—a flush of heat high on his cheeks, the glow of sweat on his golden skin, the twitching of his muscles, the full hardness of his cock against his belly, the saliva-slick pinkness of his bitten lower lip all evidence of the intensity of the effect of the pollen. He seemed unable to hold back his hitched, whimpering groans each time Loki plunged inside or raked his fingers up and down Thor’s body and pinched cruelly at his nipples.
Thor was beautiful like this. Thor was using him. In the morning, or perhaps even sooner, it would be over and things would go back to the way they had been… or worse. They would go back to despising each other and he’d know exactly what it was that he was missing, after one frantic, furious night of feeling complete.
Loki dipped even lower until their bodies were pressed skin to skin, bringing their mouths together in a kiss and trapping Thor’s cock against his sweat-slick stomach, the gentle friction wringing a long, keening, jolting moan out of Thor. And then as Thor convulsed, his cock throbbing and spilling hot semen between them, he cried out his brother’s name.
And his cry was joined by a low, desperate sound from the depths of Loki’s throat. To hear his own name on Thor’s lips when he came was like being struck, being cut so deep that the flesh took a moment to start to bleed before it overflowed. And in the midst of the pain, he couldn’t stop himself from cresting over the edge as well, spilling himself deep inside his brother’s body as Thor rode out the dregs of his orgasm beneath him.
*
Thor lay curled beside him, limp as a thrown doll, for only a few minutes. The effects of the pollen had not faded yet, and Thor roused himself almost drunkenly, clambering to hands and knees to kneel beside Loki and begin kissing him all over, tongue lapping out to taste the sweat on his skin.
“More, brother…” Thor whined. He found one of Loki’s hands and pulled it to his lips, sucking wetly on the digits one after another. “Please…”
The first feeling that washed over Loki was something more akin to dread than desire. Thor was going to drag him into the darkest depths and he would think nothing of it. Would not even realize it. But there was no possibility of stopping. Loki had gone too far to stop, and he was bound to go even farther. With the swelling of his heart sticking in his throat, he reached for Thor and began again.
*When Thor began to come down several hours later, buzzing all over with warm contentment, sticky with sweat and fluids and reeking like an orgy, he shifted slightly to wrap his arms around Loki’s naked body and tug him closer, fully intending to fall asleep where he was. The desperate need had been fulfilled, every inch of him felt relaxed and sated and just sore enough to satisfy, and an exhausted smile rested on his face. Everything else could wait until the morning. Or, if he slept through that, the next morning.
“So do you feel better now?” Loki asked sweetly, his voice weaving through the haze.
“Mmhm,” Thor replied without opening his eyes.
“Good,” Loki replied, extricating himself from Thor’s embrace with a shove at Thor’s chest. “Then you can leave. I have no desire to have you taking up space on my bed all through the night, or whatever there is left of it. And you snore.”
Thor nearly chuckled at the joke until he opened his eyes and saw that Loki had moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his back to his brother, as he pulled on a loose green shirt. Loki tossed a glance over his shoulder; his eyes were icy and hard. He was not joking in the least, and the realization made other sorts of reality begin to settle in. Thor frowned and shuffled himself out from under the sheet and began the search for his abandoned clothes on the floor.
Of course, he thought sheepishly. Of course Loki wished him to leave. “Loki, I… I am grateful to you for doing this. We need never speak of it again,” Thor offered as his brother returned to lounging on the bed in his pajamas, watching Thor get dressed. The utterance only made Loki narrow his eyes at him, though.
“I’m sorry for…” Thor began again a moment later, trailing off as an embarrassed flush spread across his face. Reality was definitely beginning to settle in, along with words like “enemies” and “incest.”
“Get out, Thor,” Loki said through gritted teeth.
In silence he adjusted the variety of clasps on his garments, aware of Loki’s watchful gaze upon him and made nervous by it like he could never remember being before. It was made worse by barely being able to remember what he might have done, for most of what he remembered after the moment he arrived at Loki’s door was a blur of skin and sharp cries and pleasure. He found, though, that he did have a fuzzy, fleeting memory of some indistinct point in the night—of realizing that the sounds that poured from Loki’s lips were a stream of curses, wretched-sounding and broken and furious and certainly directed at him.
When he looked at Loki again, meaning to offer yet more apologies for everything that had happened, Loki glared at him and abruptly turned his face away, and he thought better of it.
At the door, he turned and murmured, “Brother…”
Something hit the wall next to his head and shattered in little splintery pieces. He took the hint.
*
Alone, Loki collapsed back onto the bed, more drained than he had been ready to admit in front of Thor. His sheets smelled of sex, of sweat, of that strange honey tinge of pollen, of Thor. He would have to wash them… some other day. With a heavy sigh he spread his arms out, shut his eyes, and tried to think of nothing; he had been able to fake something approaching composure for a few minutes, but equilibrium would return more slowly.
It had ached, having Thor lying next to him, holding him close. Feeling the slow roll of his respiration, his warmth, an easy comfort Loki was unused to.
But the bed was already growing cold again, apace with the emptiness in the pit of his stomach.
And surely it was better that way.
***