Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thor is pretty sure that they are having a competition where the first person who moves their facial muscles loses. The thought almost makes him laugh. He’s not really sure what the problem is, despite the fact that Loki, currently winning the One Expression Only competition, has explained it twice and is gearing up for a third go round.

“Alright, let me begin at the beginning, as you clearly are not understanding what I am saying. I,” he takes this time to tap a black painted fingernail on his own chest, “am double majoring in Astrophysics and pre Judeo-Christian theology and minoring in Classic Literature. He,” here he motions smoothly to Thor, “is majoring in Justice Studies and minoring in being loud. So on what planet does it sound like a remotely intelligent choice to room us together?” 

But Thor knows that this is not a question that is meant to be answered, and Loki is just going to keep on going. The RA is gaining points in the competition for having kept her placating smile firmly in place for a solid seven and a half minutes now. 

“I have filed several formal requests to be moved with a more,” he pauses, maybe to find a less offensive word than he called Thor last time, “agreeable, room mate. I have received no response. And I to believe that the fact that I pay to be here means nothing?”

And Thor is pretty happy to distinguish that this is a legitimate question, though it takes the RA a beat to catch on. When she does, it’s as though she has spent the last eight minutes formulating the greatest tactical response to Loki imaginable. 

“Awww, 314D, no switching, no trading. Let’s turn the frown upside down!” and then she bounds away, ponytail bobbing, leaving Loki potentially considering homicide.

“So…does this mean I can’t have Volstagg over for beers tonight?” And Thor is a little worried that Loki will get a concussion bouncing his head off the wall like that. 

Chapter Text

The days drag on like years here, and for that he thanks each of his lucky stars individually and by name. The apartment is small, all odd shapes and empty, two conjoined rooms and small nodes for kitchen and bathroom. The walls are dressed in wallpaper that was likely very old in the sixties, and a vintage crown molding weakly attempts to bring a measure of class to the dwelling. There is very few personal belongings, but the possessions tell a great deal about their owners. There are small piles of books, tattered and frayed and clearly recently acquired. A little stack of cassette tapes and a handful of CD's sit beside an ancient stereo. Clothes sit in baskets by the corner. There's no bed, just a foam pallet encased in sheets, covered in a nest of pillows. The windows face the west, casting golden afternoon light across the old hardwood floors. An oscillating fan weakly tries to bring the temperature down. The balcony door is left open.

The little apartment is very high up, overlooking busy streets, businesses, other apartment complexes. Trees crop up where they dare, bright splashes of green amongst all the grey. The cacophony of sounds from outside fight with the music from inside, but the heat wins the battle against the fan. The summer is too hot, too sticky, the rain refuses to come. They lounge around nude and close to it when in the building, taking cold showers often, keeping the lights off as much as they can.

Ottawa is beautiful, and a nice change from where they were before. Thor had proposed the move, looking over school brochures one day. He had taken a sip of his soda, looked up and asked his room mate, “Do you like Ottawa?” and Loki had replied, “I don't see why I wouldn't.” and two months later, when term ended, they had sorted out as much paperwork as possible, scrounged their pennies and sold their textbooks, and packed everything they could into Thor's reliable little Cutlass, and made the Great Odyssey.

8 months prior, neither would have dreamed that this would be where they were. Thor was loud, energetic, popular. Loki was quiet, studious and withdrawn. Their shared dorm was often the witness to shouting matches, to thrown belongings and barbs. Their respective friends often ended up dragging them to separate corners. But somewhere between the break up and the break down, the rough edges so often rubbing against one another began to soften. From sharing food when Loki's loan ran out to tutoring Thor when he just could not get it, a friendship grew.

Thor finished Justice Studies very close to the top of his year, and was ready to help people, but Loki was just beginning his academic career. The move would mean headaches upon paperwork upon transferring files upon saying goodbye. And for Thor, he could do it. Because as the hatred and disgust had grown into friendship, the friendship was growing into something more.

Loki had never had what Thor was offering. He had never had someone ask him how his classes were when he walked in the door, had never had someone offer to get him a drink on the way to the fridge. Loki had never had someone willing to wait outside his classroom for half an hour just so he wouldn't have to walk across the campus alone at 11 at night.

Thor had never had someone to care for. He'd never had someone he felt like he needed to protect, never had someone look at him like he might be worth a little bit more than how hard he could hit or how fast he could run. He'd never had someone take the time to help him understand, and he'd never had someone willing to walk with him when the walls were too tight for comfort.

And both Thor and Loki could honestly say that even though they were miles away from their comfort zone, even though this was strange, and new. Even though the summer jobs were terrible and the apartment was hot, and cramped, and empty. Even though they knew no one. For the first time, they both felt included in something, even if it was just each other.

Chapter Text

“You’re sure about this?” Thor repeated for the fifth time in the past hour.

“Yes.”

Thor’s gaze swept over Loki, his brow knit close, mouth pursed slightly. They were sitting on the foam pallet, Thor cross legged, leaning forward with his forearms braced on his legs, palms up, facing Loki, who has one leg outstretched so his calf was flush with Thor’s outer thigh and the other leg bent and tucked under it. He, too, was leaned forward, so their heads were close together.

“Thor,” Loki started, reaching out to slide his pale, slender hands into Thor’s large, warm ones. “I’m sure.”

“Loki…”

“If you’re uncomfortable with it, if you don’t want to do it, all right. Just say so.” Loki’s voice was low, soothing, his cool hands gripped lightly at Thor’s until the gesture was reciprocated. He was idly aware of his heart’s staccato beat, though the brunt of his focus was on Thor.

“I…I’m not…sure. I don’t want to hurt you.” Thor’s voice dropped, and Loki took a moment to hold the sincerity there close to his chest, before proceeding.

“I trust you.” He makes sure to look at Thor’s face, holding contact with those insanely blue eyes.

Thor sucked in a breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded. Extricating his hands from Loki’s, he reached forward, tracing his fingers over Loki’s shoulders, digging his thumbs in lightly, rubbing in circular motions before stroking hands down his chest, his stomach and abdomen, along his thighs. They moved, then, Thor up on his knees, pushing on Loki’s chest lightly with one hand and helping him straighten is leg out with the other. With Loki lying flat, both of his long legs on either side of Thor’s hips, crooked slightly so his feet were flat for purchase, Thor crawled up his body, laying kisses like gifts along his pale torso.

“If you want me to stop, just put your hands on my wrists, and I’ll stop.” Thor warned, hovering above him, before moving again, this time to straddle Loki’s stomach.

Loki with his chameleon eyes looked up at Thor, and Thor with his eyes like an endless sky looked down. And then he was moving his hands, rubbing up Loki’s arms, his shoulders, bringing his hands, so large and warm, calloused and worked, to Loki’s pretty, fragile neck.

He pushed his thumbs in lightly, the smallest pressure, feeling the air leave Loki in a small gasp. And he pressed a bit harder, not completely obstructing his airflow, but enough that Loki made a small sound in his throat, though his hands remained at his sides, eyes encouraging. Bit by bit, Thor pressed a little more, and Loki squirmed underneath him, searching for friction, or an angle, or something that Thor couldn’t completely comprehend.

Loki’s hand came up, not entirely, but close, his squirming increased, and finally, face turning blue, he touched Thor’s wrist. Thor let go, slowly, and Loki arched, gasping for breath, and Thor could feel warmth on his lower back. He leaned forward to press kisses, gentle apologies, on the finger shaped bruises that were already forming.

“That was okay?” He asked, catching Loki’s gaze.

“Yes, Thor,” Loki said, breathless and grinning, “That was okay.” 

Chapter Text

“This is terrible, I hope you know, and I shall loathe you until all’s end for making me endure this.”

Thor chanced a look sideways in the dim light, the flickering from the ancient television reflected in the rectangle lenses of the glasses slowly falling down Loki’s elegant nose, and tried to placate the younger man with a grin.

The television was a new commodity, a curbside treasure find, but the DVD player was the best that ten dollars could buy, with the addition throw in of a handful of only slightly used DVDs. One of which was playing, and not exactly astounding Loki’s refined taste. They sat together on the beaten up foam palette, amongst the nest of cheap pillows, Loki’s legs crossed Indian style and Thor’s stretched out like a V.

“Come now, it’s not that bad!” Thor leaned over to nudge Loki with his shoulder, receiving an excellent thousand yard stare for his troubles.

“It’s horrid. The acting is abysmal, the dialogue is trite, the action is overblown, and while I’m aware that not all comic book movies are entirely irredeemable, this one is.” Loki arched one delicate eyebrow, challenging Thor to disagree.

Thor had long since abandoned such foolish notions as the one that he could compete with Loki when he was on a tirade. Loki’s tongue was silver, and quick, and sharp, and he’d always had the ability to completely crater whatever was offending him, be it human, music, film, society at large, or any other number of things. Thor’s tongue was practised in a completely different area. And with that thought, his grin widened.

“Well,” he said, turning a bit and leaning closer towards Loki, who was still looking at him. “Perhaps I can do something to redeem the experience.”

So close now, that he darted his tongue out and ran it lightly across Loki’s lower lip. When met with no scathing remark, he pushed a little closer, dissolving the gap between them, and kissing an as yet unresponsive Loki. After a beat, though, Loki began to reciprocate, kissing back lightly, then with a little more intensity as Thor tried to keep it chaste. Thor, who kept backing off a little as Loki leaned further into his space, until finally, he hooked his arms around Loki’s waist and pulled him, out of his cross legged stance, and with a little manoeuvring, right on to his muscled thighs. Loki, sighing in exasperation, tangled his fingers in Thor’s almost indecently long hair, and kissed him again, licking into his mouth and shifting where Thor’s big hands still held him.

Thor squirmed a bit under the pleasant weight of Loki, pushing up Loki’s shirt a few inches, getting his hands under the worn cotton and slightly dipped under loose denim to lay them down on the dainty and rapidly warming hips. Their breaths were coming in light pants, and Loki’s grip in his hair tightened from vaguely present to inexplicably arousing, both craving a bit more friction, a bit more contact. Loki pulled back for a moment to remove his glasses and set them to the side, before Thor went for his throat, nibbling along the length of it with a grin, one hand slipping from Loki’s hip, down to pop the button of his jeans.

After that, neither of them could really recall the exploits of Jonah Hex.

Chapter Text

School is challenging, and Loki relishes the stimulation. He had always excelled in his classes during high school, was often bored with them, and for his efforts, he had graduated early. His freshman year at college saw his 17^th birthday, and all the complications that come on the heels of such. He isn’t that sociable, spending much of his time in the library, escaping his classmates and his boisterous dorm-mate. He speaks to the brighter of his classmates occasionally, though most of them, in their mid to late twenties, avoid him due to his age. Astrophysics and Pre Judeo-Christian mythology aren’t fields of study with many younger students.

There is one student, though, who often seeks Loki out. Svad shares Loki’s Pre Judeo-Christian track, and while nearly ten years older than him, often studies with him in the library. A fit man fresh off the boat from a Norwegian university, Svad turns the heads of most of the female students, and a good portion of the male ones, too. He speaks with an accent washed down by academia, not impenetrable to those around him. By early November, most evenings find him and Loki together in a dusty corner, heads bowed together over books, discussing Germanic Paganism and Greek theology.

Loki has seldom experienced anything closing in on friendship. He flourishes under Svad’s praise and attention, and occasionally they meet between classes in the campus coffee shop and discuss topics not related to school. He feels himself awkwardly returning smiles, and checking his beat up flip phone often for texts. He feels comfortable enough with Svad to even harsh on his ridiculous dorm-mate, with his disgusting eating and drinking habits and his irritating friends.

Sometimes, with the library closing, and long, dark expanses of campus between there and his dorm, Svad will walk with Loki. At first Loki is almost offended, and he chafes against feeling escorted, but when a series of students are assaulted on campus, Loki concedes that Svad’s presence is probably for the best. One evening, when his dorm-mate has a late fitness class, Loki invites Svad in.

They sit on Loki’s bed, backs against the wall, almost touching. Loki shivers suddenly, not from cold, but from a sensation that is not foreign, but not immediately recognizable. Svad notices, and slings and arm around him, scooting closer.

“Here,” he says, deep voice rumbling in his chest, “let me warm you.”

“I’m all right.” Loki says softly, shifting away a bit, but Svad’s arm is like an iron bar. “Seriously, I’m fine, you can let go.”

Svad turns at the waist then, so he is facing Loki, arm still firmly around him. He’s leaning closer than Loki is comfortable with, and Loki raises a hand to his chest to push him away, but Svad grabs his wrist and holds it there.

“Svad, I’m serious.” Loki says, panic rising in his chest. “Let go of me.”

Svad says something then, not in English, and Loki is becoming rapidly aware of what kind of situation he has found himself in. He tries to move again, but Svad is quicker, and his head is knocked against the wall in the brief struggle. Stars explode behind his eyes and he feels sick, feels handled, and when he shakes his head to clear it, Svad is on top of him, holding both of his wrists down in one hand. His other hand is attempting to work at Loki’s pants, and Loki is in tears, begging him to stop, just please stop.

And there is a jerk of movement, and Loki can’t see well, but Svad is gone, leaving him alone hopefully. When Loki blinks through the tears though, the moment is frozen in a tableau. If he thought Svad was a big, muscled guy, clearly he’d never taken a good look at his dorm-mate. Svad’s on the floor, and Thor looks like a lion, face contorted into a snarl. And the moment unfreezes.

“You foul son of a bitch, you get the fuck away from him.” And Thor is on top of Svad now, driving a fist into Svad’s face over and over.

Loki stumbles off the bed and grabs onto Thor’s arm, pulling it back. “Thor, stop!” and a wash of fresh tears is streaming down his face. “Thor, please, you can’t be a cop if you hospitalize him!”

And that stops Thor, shaking, furious Thor, who looks up at Loki, weakly trying to pull him back.

“He’s not worth it.” Loki chokes out, can’t even be self-conscious in this moment.

Thor turns back to Svad, hauling him up and shoving him towards the door. “If you ever come anywhere near him again, I will kill you.” and neither Thor nor Loki is sure if the fleeing man heard him.

After that, Loki spends a little more time in the dorm, but Thor is still ridiculous, still has disgusting eating and drinking habits, and his friends are still irritating.

Chapter Text

The first time Thor took Loki out, it was a disaster. Actually, disaster might be a kind. Rolland Emmerich has nothing on what happened that night. Fresh off of mid-terms, Thor had dragged Loki out to a houseparty, mostly because both of them weren't old enough to go to the bars yet, but also because the houseparty was being hosted by some guy named Dio who fermented his own everything in his basement and threw the best parties. By the end of the night, Volstagg had a broken collarbone, Sif had punched three guys in the face, and Fandral needed to have his stomach pumped. Loki had spent most of the evening trying to get away, and Thor, very inebriated, had confessed love to him in three different languages, one which may or may not have been Klingon. The next morning, Loki dumped a pitcher of water on Thor and vowed never to go out with him again.

The next month, after much cajoling, Thor managed to coax Loki out of the small fortress of anthropology books that he had barricaded himself in. Dio's house was three levels, a great many bedrooms and spare rooms, a large dinning room laid out with a buffet of booze. Thor elects to stay only mildly tipsy the whole night, which is a good thing. Somewhere between the rum and coke and the vodka, someone put something in Loki's drink, and Thor spent most of the night keeping people away from him, and him away from people. In the morning, Thor even brought advil and bottled water into where Loki lay curled up against the cool porcelain of the toilet.

One chilly March evening found the group at a bonfire party. Later Loki wondered what possessed anyone to think that beer plus fire plus college students was a good idea. At the time, though, he found himself bored by the conversation, not close to inebriated enough, and ill dressed for the temperature. Loki had sat, shivering, on a log beside Thor until he noticed, and shed his oversized flannel and wrapped it around Loki. Then Thor very cautiously wrapped an arm around him and held him close, leaning his head close, so Loki could smell the beer on his breath, and had asked him if that was okay. Loki had resolved not to think of the last time someone had put an arm around his shoulder and given him the affirmative, feeling well and safe in Thor's half embrace. In the morning, all others present seemed to have drank too much to remember, or thought it wise not to comment. Loki picked up an affinity for flannel after that.

The last party before the summer was one to be remembered, which is, of course, why no one did. A few people had thought to bring along their video cameras, though, and the cameras would later show a great many hilarious things. The cameras showed that Sif won the bikini contest, Volgstagg could, in fact, do a keg stand, Fandral was completely shameless, though everyone already knew that, and Hogun was capable of smiling. The cameras would also show, out the corner of a frame or two, that Thor spend a good amount of the party in the hot tub, fully dressed, with a half dressed Loki on his lap, the two of them joined at the mouth. What no one knew, of course, was that neither of them had a drop to drink that night.

Chapter Text

There’s so much light pollution in the city, blanketing the sky and obscuring the stars. Not that it isn’t beautiful in it’s own way, the lazy orange glow an eerie but interesting backdrop to the blanket of winking lights, spread out in every direction from the high apartment that they share. Sometimes Thor and Loki go out on the balcony with a blanket and a cast iron pot of tea and spend hours making constellations out of the building lights. They create a world of their own with their back to the glass and their eyes hunting out shapes in the ever changing world around them.

But sometimes the city smothers them, wraps them in that orange glow and won’t let go. They get restless, pace the hardwood floors, snap at each other like irritable wolves. One such night finds them like this, crawling out of their skins. Loki has shed his layers down to cut off skinny jeans and a tank top, clinging to his torso like the heat. He’s pulled his ever growing hair into a pony-tail to keep it off his neck, all but pitched his glasses against a wall for slipping down his nose so much. Thor has far less modesty, sitting cross legged in front of the fan in nothing but plaid shorts.

“Let’s go.” Loki says suddenly, stopping his pacing.

“Hm?” Thor asks sluggishly, the sound distorted by the fan.

“Right now. Let’s go. Get in the car.” And Loki strides over and hauls Thor up and pulls him towards the door. They toe into flip flops, grab the keys to the Cutlass and they’re out, out and going.

Loki drives like a man possessed, turns up the music so loud it’s distorted, and deadmau5 blends into Skrillex blends into Innerpartysystem blends into Daft Punk and they’re going, going, gone. Out of the city, along the 417, the 416, 401. They stop in an inconsequential town for coffee and gas, and rumble out on the back roads, driven not by direction or intention, just going where the little needle in Loki’s chest points to. They drive for hours until they are in the middle of no where, and Thor is sure that they’re lost. Loki pulls off the road then, on to the shoulder, and cuts the engine.

He takes a deep breath, and gets out of the car, and climbs on the hood and lays back. Thor gives him a moment, then follows him, ever cautious of the younger man when he gets like this. He climbs up on the hood beside him and lays back. Loki twines his fingers through Thor’s, and rests their joined hands between them. The sky is pitch black, but the stars keep them company, bright and myriad, lighting up the field, and Thor can swear that he can hear every one of them humming.

Light streaks across the sky then, a solitary line making a temporary divide in the sky. And then a little while later there is another one. And another. And soon the number is so large that Thor doesn’t care to count anymore. Meteors, claiming the sky, otherwise so still. Out there, under the stars, the world does not seem to be closing in so much, but opening up, showing Thor and Loki something beautiful, letting them into a world much bigger than theirs.

Chapter Text

One of the things that drew Thor to Loki initially, beyond their forced close proximity, is how Loki throws himself into absolutely everything, puts all of himself into what he is doing, and looks beautifully doing it. He has such an elegance about him, from his slicked back hair to his slender fingers, his long legs. Ever since the beginning, he was held in awe by the way that Loki moved, the way he used that silver tongue to get what he wanted, the bits of writing that he left behind him like breadcrumbs. The spark he feels in his belly watching Loki does not fade over time, but intensifies into an all consuming flame that burns through him, drives him to keep his eyes on Loki every moment that he can.

Loki is a good cook, which they both find out when they finally have something more than a dorm kitchen to work with. He is exact in his measurements, handles sharp knives with delicate fingers, he’s so attentive to what he’s doing. He’ll slide up onto the counter to watch the progress, unwilling to cede control and leave the task to time or chance. He devours books like a starving man, and cookbooks are no exception, a small collection of them building up in one of the cupboards, with Loki’s gorgeous scrawl taking up the margins. Thor eats like a king when they’ve got enough money to afford groceries, and he sometimes eats like a king when they don’t.

Loki is a terrific writer, in prose, technical ability, and in the physical act of it. A lost art, he claims, is the ability to use a fountain pen properly. He writes every day, where ever he can. Cheap notebooks fill up with fiction, characters worlds springing to life. Pages of lined paper house his thoughts on everything from climate to what movie they recently watches, to a lone moment he witnessed and couldn’t let go of. Binders fill up with schoolwork, even when classes are over for the year, forever chasing academia. Sometimes Thor brings him home lovely moleskines and Loki will quietly take them, turn them over in his beautiful hands, and thank Thor for the gift of everything he can now write. He fills those books up with the things that they do together, and when he’s at work, Thor will read them, and he’ll feel like a man on fire and Loki is the only water in the world.

Loki dances. This is something that Thor found out entirely by accident, and a secret that he keeps locked away in a little cage, hung by chains from his heart. Loki does not like anyone to know that he dances, but heavens above, he dances. Once day, Thor walked in on him dancing in the dorm room. He had headphones on, music so loud he didn’t hear the door, his body twisting, his hips moving, arms directing the flow of movement. Thor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything as beautiful as Loki in pyjama pants and a beat up t-shirt, eyes closed and hair around his face, dancing like he was possessed.

Loki fucks like a forgotten Pagan deity. In high school, Thor had gained the nick name God of Thunder for his lovemaking, and the name followed him to college. If Thor was the God of Thunder, Loki was the God of Mischief, all false starts and teasing kisses, mocking touches. There was something eternally ethereal about him, his long expanses of pale skin, his long black hair. There was a finesse to his movements, how watching him kiss a trail down Thor’s abdomen looked not pornographic, but like a work of art.

Thor revels in being able to encourage these things in Loki. He loves to bring him home ideas for exotic meals, new baking experiments. He adores the look on Loki’s face when he puts more blank notebooks in his gorgeous hands. He loves bringing Loki more music to dance to, loves to dance with him. And he will never get tired of making love to Loki, of worshipping him with kisses. If Loki throws himself into everything he does, then Thor throws himself into everything that is Loki. 

Chapter Text

Thor jokingly refers to it as their grand adventure, and Loki rolls his eyes every time. He even walks away if the situation presents itself. But Thor is adamant about it. During the winter break, when Loki has finished all of his exams, and Thor doesn’t have any exams because he’s in private security now, they manage to pull together some extra money and go on a trip. They shove a cooler full of food and a suitcase in the back seat, and hit the road for Toronto.

They check into the Grand Hotel, and manage to ignore that they look completely out of place. The building is tall, and they have a gorgeous view of downtown Toronto. They keep the blinds open the whole time and Thor makes love to Loki against the glass with all the lights off, the city’s luminance dappling them like brand new private stars. The first night is spent inside, all over the room, making it theirs. They turn up the heat and sleep naked on the covers, wrapped around each other.

In the morning, they set out across the city, bundled into warm jackets, finding all kinds of intricate little routes to unknown hidden shops that only the secret breed of student that Loki is can find. They eat in little family run shops, snagging bits of food off of each others plates, warming their hands on each other before making their way out into the cold. When the sun is at it’s highest, Thor pushes Loki into a snowbank, and flees from Loki, claiming himself a frost giant, chasing after Thor with snowballs. That night, they hit four clubs before cover and two after, collecting bright bracelets that flash in the black light, and Loki sheds his cloak of self consciousness and dances with Thor like he had never done anything but.

The second morning is spent rolling around the hotel room again, ordering up breakfast, and Loki drapes Thor’s body with bits of strawberry and trails of whip cream and laps it up. Thor makes a point to thank the gods of dorm assignment that he ever was forced to share a tiny room with this man, and thanks the succession of tiny rooms that they chose to share. Then he paint a masterpiece in syrup on Loki, and kisses all of it away. They celebrate the unlimited hot water by spending close to an hour in the shower. The day passes much like the one before it, with exploration. And in the evening they cram into a packed, dirty little bar, and watch fierce red-head and her burlesque show, Loki forever knowledgeable in the songs, with Thor only able to join in on the rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. They stay out till four in the morning, trying to fight off the sunrise with drinks and snowfights with other concert attendees.

The third morning sees them sleeping in, the last night on a proper bed, holding on to the last strings of this little haven away from home. Thor kisses Loki awake, bats away his soft, sleepy complaints of morning breath. And Thor takes an hour to Loki everything that he loves about him, traces all of them onto his snowy skin with warm fingers, clutches Loki’s hands in his own, and Loki smiles and tells him that he’s silly, which Thor understands as an “I love you, too.” and when they pile in the car with the terrible speakers and the suitcase in the back, Thor can honestly say that the weekend was grand.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

<<Thor Brodinson and Hipster Loki and the Lightsabre Poles>>

Loki tended to take pride in his ability to make good choices. He was young, and incredibly intelligent, and he had enough sense to avoid bad situations, with a handful of exceptions. This, of course, meant that sometimes he deliberately made bad choices. Most of those bad choices involved Thor. This had been one of those times.

Loki had long since finished whatever work needed to be done, and if Thor had any work to do, he certainly wasn't about to do it. And it was cheap night at the theatre, and they got a discount on top of that, so a movie night was declared and they had set off. It wasn't a very long walk to the theatre from the campus, but just enough of one that on snowy nights like this, most people wouldn't bother. The theatre lobby was mostly empty, the previous show having just started and the next one not for some time. They spent a few dollars on arcade games, Loki managed to hand Thor his own ass at air hockey and DDR and Thor had an alarming rate of success on whatever version of duck hunt they were peddling that year.

They ended up in a completely empty showroom in the further corner from the door, half an hour before the film was to start. Loki pulled out his iPod, one of the big bulky ones with the bright screens, and handed one earbud to Thor, jamming the other in his own ear, putting on the mutually agreed playlist. Loki tried not to think about what it meant that there was a playlist on his iPod of music that both he and Thor liked. And it wasn't that hard of a task when Thor pulled out a bottle from the inside of his huge jacket, the light from the iPod illuminating his grin.

“Thor.” Loki said in warning, gazing at him over the rims of his glasses.

“Loki.” Thor replied, grin growing wider.

“I'm going to assume that you have not brought us Snapple in an unmarked container.” Loki shook his head carefully so as not to dislodge the little earbud.

“No, my friend, I have brought his majesty Jack Daniels.” Thor beamed, and uncapped the bottle to take a pull from it.

“Thor, you're going into law enforcement...Is this not breaking at least three laws?” Loki sighed, taking the bottle and drinking some, grimacing at the taste.

Thor slung an arm around Loki and gave him a little squeeze, “Ah, live a little.”

The movie, when it started, was a bit of a tacky affair, a lot of explosions and cars and robots and it was not at all to Loki's taste. There were only a handful of others in the theatre, and Loki got the impression they did not like Thor and Loki and their constant giggling. After the movie, they staggered out the fire exit to avoid any staff. Thor slung an arm around Loki again, and Loki clung to his chest to keep upright, the both of them pitching slightly to the side, so that Thor had to grab on to one of the streetlights scattered about the parking lot.

“Wait, wait!” Thor said, though Loki wasn't moving away. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“Hear what?” Loki whispered back.

Thor brought his arm back, and stumbling a bit, smacked the pole, which made an odd sound as it vibrated, clearly hollow. Thor grinned and smacked it again, and again, and more until his hand hurt. “Loki! It sounds like a lightsabre!”

Loki stared at him, then the pole, and broke into a smile. “It does! Lightsabre pole!” and he smacked it too, listening to the sound bounce around.

And every time they went to the theatre after that, drunk or sober, with or without friends, they would detour to have a short lightsabre streetlight fight. So maybe it wasn't that much of a bad choice after all.

Chapter Text

They both have their scars, of course, everyone does. Both physical and mental. And it’s not something that they choose to talk about at first, neither wanting to bring it up. But scars are a road map of the past and sometimes that map needs to be pulled out and brushed off. So sometimes they did talk about them, sometimes they had to. Sometimes they talked about them by accident, and sometimes they would ask.

Thor has a scar on his lower back, maybe the length of a pinky finger, just a little more pink than the rest of his sun-kissed skin. He got it when he was 17. One of his team mates had taken a girl under the bleachers, and the girl had changed her mind, started to say no. It was after a game, and Thor was putting away the equipment when he heard her telling him to stop, and heard him fail to listen. The wound was incurred when he went to grab the guy, and had been shoved back. A little broken piece of metal had gouged him through his jersey. It had needed a handful of stitches, but the guy never tried that particular stunt again.

Loki had a scar on his arm that looked a little bit like a shooting star. It was a long thin line with a star burst at the end. The injury was incurred when a classmate in his cooking class decided to play chicken with him, grabbing his arm and making slashing motions. Loki had refused to move, and the blade had connected with the top of his arm. The student was suspended for two days, but never bothered Loki again under the threat of lawsuit. Because the knife had been dirty, the very tip of the wound had gotten infected, and healed in a star burst.

Thor has nightmares sometimes. Terrible nightmares that make him shout and thrash and jolt awake, covered in sweat with his sheets twisted around him. There’s something dark there, and he won’t talk about it. He can hardly remember what happened, and he doesn’t want to, but it keeps him awake some nights. And it shows the next day, when he hasn’t slept at all and he’s tired, irritable, so far from his normal sunny disposition. One of these nights he jolts awake to find Loki on the floor, holding the side of his face, and Thor’s hand hurts. He immediately begins babbling apologies, shaking, with tears welling up in his eyes, the dark stealing away all of his male bravado, all of who he is in the light. And Loki doesn’t say anything, but he climbs into Thor’s bed, and lays them both back, wrapping his arms around him and letting Thor burrow his face into Loki’s chest. And Loki doesn’t ask, but he stays with him, and they don’t talk about it, but Thor is sunny in the morning.

Loki compartmentalizes well, but sometimes it takes time. While not overly physically affectionate to begin with, after the incident with Svad, he withdraws from all contact at all. The cheerful RA who tries to hug him every time she sees him goes from annoyance to enemy, and when people try to clap him on the shoulder or shake his hand, he avoids them. He even point blank rebuffs Thor’s friendly contact. One night, someone slaps him on the ass, and he retreats from the room entirely. Thor finds him in their dorm, hyperventilating. He sits down next to Loki, and very slowly puts an arm around his shoulders. Loki breaks into tears then, and turns to bury his face into Thor’s chest, sobbing and shaking. After that, Loki continues to avoid most peoples touch, but he never again denies Thor.

Some scars are there to decorate, and some to inhibit. Some fade on their own, and some don’t. And even if they don’t talk about it, they help each other heal in the ways that they can. And sometimes they have to ask about what to do, but other times they just know.

Chapter Text

Like most schools, theirs was host to it’s own various clubs and group, popping up about the place like bacteria cultures. They group together with common interests, like the Holmes Appreciation Club and the Allies club and the World War II re-enactment club. And then there is the CSAG. Christian Students Against Gays. The club is largely run by a group of white, upper middle class girls from respectable towns, and followed by their beefy Jock boyfriends. They hold protests outside of the dorms of known gay students and hand out fliers denouncing the sin of homosexuality. The other Christian student group, the Christians For Equality will have nothing to do with them, and most students agree that these girls are a little radical.

Most people avoid them when at at all possible. The younger students, fresh from high school politics, knew which aggressive opinion-pushers to avoid and the older students are all well aware that tangling with the CSAG usually means life was hell for a few weeks. They could, on occasion, be labelled as the bane of Loki’s existence.

In the spring, Loki and Thor are still sorting out what exactly they have. It’s something a little more complicated than friendship, coloured with something that Loki has never really experienced and something Thor can name on sight. But Loki needs to go slow, and Thor is entirely willing to give him that. So sometimes they kiss, and sometimes they hold each other at night, and they haven’t done anything else yet but it’s a near thing.

Loki had a boyfriend in high school, though the term is used loosely. They were two intellectuals who spent time together and read in silence and worked together on homework and they kissed twice and Loki didn’t like it much. Thor had a long string of girlfriends and sexual partners and though he was never unkind to any of them, he never really had a connection worth keeping. So they are both new to this, and Loki doesn’t want to move fast into territory that he’s not familiar with and Thor rolls the word “boyfriend” around on his tongue sometimes and tries to connect it to “Loki”. Loki is private by nature and would rather not go about in public holding hands and acting like a couple. Thor wants the whole world to know that he has a fledgling love for Loki, and that he is off-limits. They don’t argue about it because they don’t talk about it. It’s an unspoken stalemate.

Enter the CSAG. Because of his effeminate frame, his soft-spoken voice, his penchant for painting his nails and his girly hair, the CSAG targets him as one of The Gays and has embarked on a mission to Show Him The Light. Loki is less than pleased. His student email is inundated with Bible passages and pastor quotes telling him the evils of homosexuality and telling him that it’s not too late to repent. He deletes them. They follow him from class to class, and he remains quiet, his hair covering his ear buds. He is nothing if not a paragon of self-restraint.

And then they start to follow Thor around. The girls without boyfriends try to tell him not to give in to to Loki’s evil seduction, and try to ask him out. He’s baffled at first, has no idea how to politely tell them to stop, smiling blandly through their advances. One afternoon they have Thor cornered in the Quad, and Loki, passing by on his way to lunch, stops to see what is going on. They are loudly proclaiming homosexuality a sin for the umpteenth time and Thor is beginning to look upset. There are students milling around watching, but saying nothing.

Loki has had enough. He strides forward, pushes through the crowd, Thor smiles when he sees him and Loki feels a blossom of warmth in his belly at that, he drops his bag, grabs on to Thor’s shoulders and hops clean up. His long legs wrap around Thor’s waist, and Thor’s hands come up to hold the rest of his weight, and Loki kisses him soundly, in front of God, the CSAG, about three hundred students and he has not a fuck to give for it. The kiss goes on a long time, and when he pulls bad, Thor looks dazed and happy, face breaking out into an infectious smile. The CSAG is silent as a handful of students cheer and clap. The harassment doesn’t necessarily stop, but at least they’ve got each other.

Chapter Text

“Thor, this is ridiculous. You are ridiculous. Why do I even know you.” Loki wasn’t even looking at him, deadpanning from his bed where he was painting his nails a lovely forest green. Cross legged, perfectly still, he was balancing the little bottles on his knees.

“Don’t be a spoil sport.” Thor grins, mouth full of gummies. “Want some?”

“No. No I do not. I can practically hear you getting diabetes from here. Stop it.” Loki’s tone held a clear warning.

Thor was lying on his back on his bed across the small dorm room. His legs were stretched out and up the wall, feet resting on the gap between a Star Trek poster boasting some Australian actor and a poster of a scantily clad tattooed woman. He had been tossing little candy up in the air and catching it with his mouth, but he was now aiming a candy towards Loki’s leg.

“Thor, if you throw that candy at me, you will feel pain that you have never known in your short life.” Loki warned, dipping a small detailing brush into a narrow bottle of gold glitter polish that was tucked into the crook of his knee.

“Aww come on. You’re stinking up the room with that…nail polish.” Thor said, voice coming dangerously close to whining. He then proceeded to throw a Swedish Berry at Loki, though his aim was off and it bounced off his stomach.

“Deal with it, open a window. If you get polish on my pants, please remember that I know where and when you sleep.”

“And you are invited to join me aaaany time you’d like!” Thor’s voice was cheeky, and he paused to chew on a Twizzler before tossing more candy at Loki, hitting him in the chest with two and missing completely with the third.

“Thor, you are the culmination of several billion years of evolution. Act like it.” Loki blew on his nails, then started painting the other hand carefully.

“You,” a candy hit Loki in the shoulder, “are,” one hit him in the chest, “no fun.” the third hit him in the crotch. “And nail polish is for girls.”

Loki looked up then, blue-green eyes absolutely venomous. “Thor, desist immediately or you will eat those words.”

“Whatever you say, Lady Loki.” Thor grinned, and tossed up another candy and caught it between his teeth.

Loki leaned over and pulled his iPod over to himself, shoving the ear buds into his ears and resolutely ignoring Thor and his bags of Bulk Barn candy.

“Thought so.” Thor said smugly, crossing one leg over the other across the wall.

Perhaps it was that he stayed up so late, or maybe he was naturally too sound a sleeper. And maybe it was because he had been so tired the next morning that he didn’t notice right away. But he sure noticed when his combat instructor asked why, exactly, Thor had hot pink fingernails.

Chapter Text

Thor turns 19 in March, and while it’s not exactly a milestone, he and his friends mark it like one. Sif’s housemates are gone for the weekend on a trip to Vegas, and the house is turned into party central. It’s small, and narrow, three floors with an open living room that connects to a crappy student kitchen. The table is covered in various alcohols, and there is beer in the fridge. The upstairs is a narrow hallway with a tiny bathroom and three bedrooms and a rickety metal staircase to the attic that serves as a fourth bedroom.

There is an insane amount of people jammed into the house. Thor is a social and popular guy. His inner circle, composed of Sif, Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun are there, as well as a handful of guys from his course, and friends of Sif and Fandral, and some of their friends, and Loki. Loki would be the odd one out. He’s wandering from room to room awkwardly, a rum and coke in his hand, barely touched.

He gave Thor his present earlier, a braided hemp necklace with red glass beads and silver threads interwoven. He hadn’t had the money to get him anything, so he figured making something was the next best option. He had left the present on Thor’s pillow and had gone to class, so he hadn’t seen the reception to it. The last he saw Thor, he was tossing back beers and Loki couldn’t see the necklace. He had been with friends though, so Loki moved on.

It was a bitter edge, Loki thought as he sat on a bed in one of the empty bedrooms, to be happy for someone but desire them to only be happy with you. He isn’t familiar with such possessive thoughts, especially with Thor, who by his very nature was a social creature.

“Hey.”

Loki looks up suddenly, and Thor is at the door, coming in and closing it behind him. He looks a little tipsy, but not overly so, and for that Loki is kind of glad. Thor is silly when he’s drunk, and Loki doesn’t think he can handle silly right now.

“I missed you this morning.” Thor continues, walking into the room until he’s in front of Loki.

“I had class.” Loki says, head tipping up to keep eye contact with Thor. “Sorry I couldn’t get you anything…”

Thor wordlessly pulls his sleeve up. He’s taken the necklace and looped it three times around his wrist and tied it off. He smiles at Loki, and leans down to kiss him. Thor tastes like fruity liquor and breath mints, and Loki wonders when he switched off beer, and if he did it knowing that Loki can’t stand beer breath. Thor nudged in between Loki’s legs and lowers to his knees in front of him so it’s Loki leaning down.

“I love it, Loki. But there’s something else you could give me?” Thor ventures the second part tentatively, breathless from the kiss.

“What?”

Thor leans forward and kisses Loki’s thigh, and looks up at him, and Loki exhales sharply.

And that is the story of how Sif found Thor giving Loki a blowjob in her housemates bed, a story that jumped straight to the top of the list for Most Compromising Situation Walked In On for the next two months.

Chapter Text

In the spring of their first year in Ottawa, Thor is working a job in private security for a company called Hammer Industries that pays well enough that Loki can quit his terrible server job that takes away from his sleep and his studies. The free time eats at him at first, and he sleeps a lot of it away. And then, with his courses lightening, he has even more time. He looks at part time jobs again, but Thor will have none of it.

So one day while out and about, Loki finds a casting call for a local small theatre, and decides to go. They need actors who are staying in the city, as many were students who graduated and left. So he goes and auditions with a monologue from Antony and Cleopatra and blows it away, and does a scene with a few others from Oz, and he sings Zero-Sum and the panel of mid to late-twenty somethings, men and women alike, swoon and he’s in.

The first show they do is a production of RENT and he plays Roger. It isn’t terrific, most of the cast isn’t that interested in what they call an “over-hyped pop culture nightmare”, but Loki is praised for his dedication to the role and his acting ability. No one believes him that he’s never acted before. Thor can’t make it to any of the showings because of work, and is very upset over it. He goes out of his way to make it up to Loki by buying him all kinds of play books.

The next production is a one man show in five acts that was written by a local author. Loki is the understudy for the theatres lead actor. But the night before the show, the lead drives home intoxicated and gets into an accident. He breaks his wrist, and is facing serious legal ramifications, so the woman who runs the theatre lets him go, and Loki is up. Thor gets out of work and comes to watch.

The first act is about a man standing at a crossroads. There are three paths before him, one with a beautiful woman, one with a beautiful man, and one with a hooded figure. In the second act, he describes what his life would be if he had followed the road with the woman. He speaks of a tepid courtship, an unhappy marriage, infidelity on both parties part, and eventually suicide. The third act is his life if he followed the road with the man. He speaks of a burning passion and hopeful future cut short by tragedy when the beautiful man is taken away by murder, and ends in suicide. In the fourth act, he describes what his life would be if he had followed the path with the hooded figure. The hooded figure is loneliness, and his life, while successful and lucrative, is empty, and ends in suicide. In the final act, he addresses the audience directly, having been telling his story to an unseen second person. He tells the audience that all of these lives are true, and none of them are true. The lesson is in the journey, and not the end, and no matter what path is taken, there will always be unhappiness.

When Loki meets Thor outside the theatre, Thor’s eyes are red. Loki asks what’s wrong, and Thor says nothing. He takes Loki’s hand and they walk home, and Thor makes noisy love to Loki on their foam pallet. The morning paper has a review of the performance, lauding Loki as a contriver of beautiful fraud, and calling him one of the best small time actors in the city. 

Chapter Text

Early January, Loki forgets his jacket at the dorm and manages to get locked outside the building, the unfortunate victim of a prank by some sophomores. It's late, and there are no lights in the rooms on the bottom floor, or he'd consider knocking on one of them for help. He ends up locked out for nearly an hour, shivering in his thin hoodie, waiting for someone to come downstairs to the dorm lobby. When they finally do, he is shaking, and his hands are very closely frozen into fists where he had them jammed in his underarms. He stiff-legs up to the dorm, and taps a boot against it until Thor opens the door.

“Good god, Loki, what happened!?” Thor says, pulling him into the room and rubbing his hands down Loki's arms to warm him.

Loki's teeth are chattering too hard for him to respond, as Thor pulls him into their tiny shared bathroom, and turns the water on lukewarm. He pulls Loki's backpack off, and peels off his hoodie, then pulls Loki under the spray, joining him. He has one strong arm wrapped around Loki's waist, holding him between his muscled chest and the tiled wall. Loki is shaking from the cold, and Thor slowly turns the heat up as Loki begins to thaw and sag against him. The tiny walls are spinning, though he knows that he is stationary, vertigo claiming him.

His mind weekly rebels against the treatment, uncomfortable for various reasons with being so close to Thor, soaking wet and plastered against him. A flush entirely unrelated to the sudden warmth creeps up his neck and shoulders, and he drops his forehead to press into Thor's shoulder, hiding his face and feeling as though his head weighs a hundred pounds.

When Thor is convinced that Loki's blood is coursing properly, he wraps him up in all of their towels, and brings him some clothes. He helps pull off Loki's shoes and socks, but gives Loki his privacy as he switches into big pyjama pants and a sweater. Thor changes into dry clothes as well, towelling his hair with a face cloth and pushing it back with his fingers. He gets Loki tucked into a bed, heaps his own blankets on, and turns up their crappy dorm thermostat.

Loki gets sick, of course, but he manages to avoid hypothermia by some miracle. He spends the next week completely bed ridden, with Thor waiting on him whenever he can. The older boy stops by between his classes to make sure Loki has warm food, a constant supply of tea, and goes out to buy him medicine. Thor cooks massive batches of soup on their illegal hotplate, leaves plates of saltines and ginger ale at his side. He moves the mini fridge to the side of Loki's bed so he can pull out bottles of water when he needs to.

Loki isn't prone to poetic thought about others, but he'll admit that Thor didn't just thaw out his body that night. His actions thawed out Loki's heart a little, and their tentative friendship truly bloomed after that.  

Chapter Text

Loki had known going into the relationship, or whatever they were calling it, that he was the less experienced party. He had a romantic history comprising entirely of one person who he kissed twice. Thor, on the other hand, had a pretty extensive history. His high school years had seen a handful of more long term girlfriends, with a sizable smattering of casual encounters between those relationships. And never, he stressed, during them. He wasn't that kind of guy.

It started with just kissing, Loki perched on Thor's cross legged lap, not quite sure where to hold his weight, and Thor had smiled, and laid hands on his hips and moved him so that they fit together just so. They were on Thor's tiny dorm bed, with Thor's shoulders against the wall, leaned back, so there was room for Loki to tentatively loop his legs around behind Thor's back.

Thor's hands inched up Loki's olive printed tee up a bit, his hands gentle on Loki's sides, but firm. Loki sighed happily into the kiss, enjoying the contact. His long fingers, divested of their numerous silver rings, were tangled in the hair at the nape of Thor's neck, stroking lightly, and Thor entertained brief flashes of thought of what it would feel like with Loki's fingers pulling his hair while he went down on him. He grinned, and shifted his hips a bit, and all at once it was like a livewire, like a current snapping together, the growing hardness in his pants brushing against Loki's, and he gasped softly.

The kiss, what had started out as just soft fun, was turning more insistent, more demanding. Thor nipped at Loki's lip, and Loki's fingers tightened in his hair, and he squirmed closer. Thor's warm hands moved a bit, so that he could rub small circles on Loki's hips with his thumbs. Loki made a pleased sound, and pressed down, towards the hands, hips coming into beautiful tandem with Thor's hips. Loki tugged at the hem of Thor's shirt shyly, self conscious, but Thor grinned and broke the kiss for a moment to grab the neck of the shirt and pull it off in one clean manoeuvre.

Loki leaned back a second to survey his chest, clearly not for the first time, but still just as impressed. He smoothed his hands down the taut surface, and Thor inhaled, breath stuttering in soft approval. Loki leaned forward again, pressing a tentative kiss to Thor's jaw, then another one just below his ear. When Thor's hands tightened a bit, and he hummed his approval, Loki kept on, laying light kisses on the side of Thor's neck.

“Mark me,” Thor breathed, and when Loki pulled back to look at him, he tapped the juncture of where his neck met his shoulder. “Right here. Please.”

Loki's pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, teeth digging into the bottom one for a moment. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the wall, and kissed the spot that Thor indicated, gently at first, and then sucking on it lightly, then adding more pressure. Thor squirmed beneath him, breathing out hard. Finally, Loki pulled back to survey his work, a dark bruise forming on Thor's shoulder. He gently kissed it, and continued kissing towards his clavicle, nipping once or twice just for Thor's reaction. Shyly, Loki moved one hand and reached down in the slight space between them to rake fingers gently across the bulge in Thor's jeans.

“Ohh...” There was a dull thunk as Thor's head hit the wall behind him.

Pleased by the response, Loki increased the pressure a bit, then moved his hand simply to grind down, moaning breathily into Thor's chest. Before Thor could do much though, Loki had backed off a bit, back on his exploration of kisses. He shifted back a bit so he could kiss lower, closer to Thor's nipple now, and Thor shifted to straighten his legs out, jostling Loki a bit. Once re-situated, Loki continued until he reached Thor's navel. He paused, and pulled back to look up at Thor, both of them a little breathless. Loki blinked, desperately wishing for Thor to develop the ability to read minds, or at least to know what Loki wasn't sure how to say.

“Loki,” he started, “you don't have to.”

“No, I...” Loki flushed, his pale cheeks colouring pink. “I want to. I just...I haven't...” he bit his lip. “I don't know how.”

“Oh. I can, um, I can talk you through it?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Thor removed his hands from Loki's hips, and moved them down to unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper. Loki scooted back a bit further as Thor spread his legs for Loki to settle between them. Thor then pushed his pants down a bit, and his boxers followed suit, freeing his cock. Loki licked his lips in a slightly nervous gesture, reaching out to stroke gently down the length of it, eliciting a pleased groan from Thor. He wrapped his hand around the length, getting a feel for the size and weight of it, unsure of whether or not he could do it. Thor thrust up into his hand, and Loki watched his eyes slide shut, his head tipped back, the rise and fall of his golden-toned chest. He started to kiss his way back down Thor's chest, a little hastier than before.

“Ahh, yeah. Okay, just start by licking it, it um.” Thor let out a breath like a laugh, too thoughtless to be offensive. “Goes easier when it's wet.”

Loki shimmied down some more and bent forward, tongue darting out to lick the tip. He adjusted his angle a bit, and then swiped the flat of his tongue over the head again, a little firmer, a little more sure. He licked a stripe from mid-shaft to the top, and Thor made a sound. Loki looked up to see a set of impossibly blue eyes on him, and he blushed.

“Just like that.” Thor murmured, hand moving forward to brush some of Loki's hair behind his ear.

Loki went back to the task, licking at Thor's cock until it was wet from base to tip, and he felt minute trembles in Thor's legs. He didn't find the taste of it disagreeable thus far, the scent so entirely Thor, something deep and heavy, maybe a little alcoholic if he had to guess.

“Now just...suck on the head.” Thor was breathless, hands pressed on his own hips, as though he was holding himself down, and it occurred to Loki later that he probably was.

Nodding, Loki did just that, taking the head into his mouth, took a moment to feel the heft of it on his tongue. He ran his tongue along the ridge, and Thor moaned softly. Figures that Thor, so noisy in every other aspect of his life, would be so vocal here and now. Loki began to twirl his tongue around the head as he would with a sucker, and then hollowed his cheeks, sucking gently. One of Thor's hands moved and his fingers twined in Loki's hair, holding on a bit firmly, but not pushing or pulling, and Loki enjoyed the feel of it there. He began sucking with a little more enthusiasm, and Thor shuddered, making breathy sounds.

“O-k-k-ay. Now take a bit more. Just as much as you want.”

Loki descended a bit, adjusting his angle a little and looking up again to lock eyes while he took a little bit more of the thick arousal in his mouth. He repeated the earlier manoeuvre of swirling his tongue around, and Thor moaned a little louder, head thinking against the wall again. Loki wrapped three fingers around the base, rubbing up and down a bit, his other hand holding on to Thor's thigh of leverage.

“Oh gods, Loki, yeah.” Thor's eyes slid shut for a moment before he struggled to reopen them. “You can, ahhhh, bob your head.”

Tightening his hold on Thor's thigh for leverage, he did as told, bobbing his head, and sucking. He was beginning to get out of breath, breathing hard through his nose on alternate dips down. He was pumping his hand counter to the motions of his head, and twisting a bit as he enjoyed when he got himself off. Thor's legs were trembling, and between Loki's hand on his thigh and his own hand on his hip, was managing not to thrust up into Loki's hot mouth.

Loki sped up his ministrations as he gained confidence, once the rhythm was down it was easy. Thor's hand tightened in his hair, and he made a soft hum at the back of his throat that dragged a groan from deep in Thor's throat.

“Ohhhh, Loki, Loki.” Thor's eyes were glazing over, darkening and dilated as he felt his orgasm coming on. “I'm gonna...oh god, I'm gonna come.”

Loki increased his efforts, determined to get Thor to completion swiftly. The hand in his hair was tugging gently, trying to pull him off, but Loki was having none of that. He was going to do this properly. He moved his hand from where it gripped Thor's thigh and scratched silver painted nails down Thor's hips. Thor moaned with the approximate volume of a foghorn and came, surprising Loki a bit, but he swallowed as much as he could. A few drops dropped down his chin, and he pulled off and wiped them off with a tissue from beside the bed. Thor was a panting, sweaty mess, shaking slightly, watching Loki through half lidded eyes. Loki balanced between his legs, starting to feel a little anxious, suddenly unsure if he had done well or not. And then Thor spoke.

“Loki, are you sure you've never done that before?”

Loki laughed, and started as Thor grabbed his shirt and hauled him forward to kiss him, either disregarding or even enjoying the taste of himself on Loki's tongue. Loki was breathless, and Thor was unzipping his hoodie and pushing it off, and then he worked at the fly of Loki's tight jeans. He pulled back for a breath, a gleam in his eye.

“My turn.”

Chapter Text

“Thor, put some clothes on.”

“I have clothes on.”

“No, you have a cloth on. In fact, that is not even a cloth. That is spandex. What is your damage, Thor? Put clothes on.”

“This is my costume!”

Loki’s eyebrow slowly arched as he surveyed Thor, head to toe, twice. Then The Look slid into place. The Look was Loki’s weaponized expression whenever Thor’s antics got to be just too much. In the year and change since Thor had met Loki, the look had made fewer appearances, the amount of Thor related shenanigans he could put up with growing. But the appearance of The Look meant that Thor had truly managed it.

“Thor. You are wearing a pair of gold lamé booty shorts.” Loki was using The Voice, too. The patient voice that one uses to tell a seven year old that they just did something incredibly stupid.

“It’s my costume! I’m Rocky!”

“Thor. It is noon. The party is at nine o’clock. You are not lounging about in that for nine hours.”

“I could take them off…”

Loki rolled his eyes and retreated back behind his makeshift milk crate desk to tap away at his laptop and put forth a dedicated effort into ignoring Thor. Pouting, Thor shimmied out of the shorts and shrugged his jeans back on.

The party was being hosted by some friends, the twins Arte and Pol, and as Halloween was upon them, it was a costume party. Thor did, in fact, end up going as Rocky. But if you asked him, his costume wasn’t as sensational as Loki’s. No, Loki pushed his hair back and acquired a headpiece of giant golden horns, had done up his face in make up. He also managed to come into a set of breasts somehow, and they looked great underneath a skin tight green snakeskin dress that slit obscenely high on his creamy thigh. Normally quite tall, Loki was taller still in 5 inch strappy heels, and finished the whole look off with an array of gold bangles and a fur cloak.

So authentic was this Lady Loki that a two other party goers, twentysomething guys in peacoats with hair in bouffants, amber contacts and covered in a dusting of glitter, deigned to come on to ‘her’ despiter ‘her’ clear disinterest. So obnoxious were the guys that they eventually landed on their ass on the curb courtesy of Lady Loki and Rocky, with only the parting call of “YOU AREN’T VAMPIRES, YOU’RE DOUCHEBAGS.”

Lady Loki showed ‘her’ appreciation to Rocky in the spare bedroom of the Solas’ house, using a well perfected technique, and not even smearing ‘her’ lipstick.