Across The Nine

  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    “Your room?” Loki almost laughs at the request to relieve the tension between them.

    It’s been centuries, ages, eons since he stepped foot into Thor’s room with the hopes of finding refuge for the night. And he always did in his brother’s arms or pressed up against his back, their mother finding them and cooing at how close her boys were. If only she knew. Asgard was never Loki’s home and yet it never wasn’t his home either. Suddenly he longs, from some memory buried in the depths of his sternum, to smell the room and feel the familiar comforts of the long forgotten sanctuary. Thor’s eyes tell him that the elder does, too.

    “I...can.” Loki hesitates, drawing out his words into the little space that separates them, and his mouth draws up into a taught almost-frown.

    It’s all too surreal for him. Merely being in Thor’s presence without being hunted is a new, forgotten way of being the he believed to be dead long ago. The request screams ambush in his mind despite the desperate nostalgia that he can feel crawling under his brother’s skin. Tentatively he places his lips on Thor’s for a soft kiss and pushes his hands into the thick, golden locks that grace him. There is nothing in the moment that should set him on edge and still every sensation does. He’s been on the run for far too long making his moments of peace ethereally elusive: the moment is sliding through his fingers like sand would.

    Cautiously their surroundings shimmer and shift, taking on the golden hue accented by crimson and stone that make up Thor’s bedroom back on Asgard. Across the room a fireplace comes into being and crackles with a familiar life: had it ever been put out? With a small miscalculation the new environment solidifies with a forcible crash as they fall to the wooden floors, the bed being some feet away from them.

    Loki huffs a quiet, “Sorry” before shifting to rub the back of his head.
    January 23rd, 2018 at 03:57am
  • the god of thunder.

    the god of thunder. (300)

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    Thor takes a moment to place his hand to the back of Loki's scalp and give it a gentle test before the power of the room sweeps over and the shock of the fall has deserted him. But he's still stunned. By the fact that Loki has followed through on a request- has followed through on a request for Thor's own fulfillment- It overwhelms him.

    As does the splay of his raven-like black hair between his fingers, and the ancient way that inimitable scents tug on aching neurons that've remained untouched for so long, they still offer a clear picture of a memory unimpeded by distortion. Not that he hasn't visualized similar scenarios to his actual experiences. There are just some that he hasn't been able to properly return to. Until now.

    He picks himself up and pulls Loki with him, angling for the bed.

    He's at least gracious enough to sort of make it, curving Loki backwards against the edge of the mattress so he can lay himself flat against Loki's front.

    "Brother," he rumbles quietly, pressing his lips voraciously to Loki's naked collarbone until he's sucking bruises from the other's neck. He knows how the rest of that statement would go. How it used to go; are you sure we should be doing this? Won't it hurt you?

    That was before Thor knew that Loki was apt and content to hurt himself more than Thor would ever be capable of. Fear fled the moment it saw certainty enter the room.

    He wraps one arm around the back of Loki's neck, using the other to guide the younger's legs against his torso. He presses his forehead to Loki's jaw as he pushes tentatively into Loki, holding him steady between his body and the bed. "Are you sure we should be doing this?" he jibes playfully, teasing Loki's skin between his teeth as he tries to get Loki's body to yield to him.
    January 23rd, 2018 at 06:36am
  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    Already Loki is parched, drained of any bit of energy that might have held him pigeon-toed on the edge of reality and primed to flee: to dismember not only himself but the mass that makes up Thor and move it across a realm, while simple in act, spent anything he had saved up. The length he would go to to please his brother was exhausting. The room had not materialized around them, they had materialized in the room. The throbbing that radiates out from the crown of his skull reminds him of this with each ache and silently he almost wishes he had gone with the cheaper alternative if only to save himself the pain of misjudgment.

    The mattress below him forgives most all of that though and what it doesn't, Thor does. For a moment he's a kid again, bruised and beaten with the ridicule of his size out on the training fields, seeking solace in his elder. Seeking for solace or self punishment? It went both ways, as it always has in an relentless riptide of almost masochism tinted through a hue of self-depreciation: the moment only brings the keyhole into frame for him as he arches up into Thor's chest trying not to whimper.

    "Do you want me to answer," Loki pauses with a swallow and his eyes flutter upwards with the pleasure of Thor pressuring him onward, "or beg?" How often did he beg for it when they were younger, provoking Thor with collarbones, wet sounds, and promises that they wouldn't get caught?

    But in this reality he already burns with the presence of Thor within him and clenches his jaw in retaliation against himself. With a gasp he wraps himself around Thor's neck in desperation, playing the waiting game without the energy to cast spells that would dull the pain (he learned those first and foremost as a pubescent child). It'll pay off though, it has to: it always does. He repeats that with a wicked, holy smile, whispering it as he digs his nails with a vengeance into Thor's back.
    February 7th, 2018 at 02:42pm
  • the god of thunder.

    the god of thunder. (300)

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    "Beg however loudly you wish," Thor bluffs, fucking deeper into him on the edge of the bed. "Who is there to catch us now?"

    It's a little eerie, maybe, to consider that the expanse of these halls are unoccupied. But with the fire at their feet and the the door shut tight, it's easy to pretend that they are ancient souls in new bodies, and nothing save for that is different. Even when there's nothing left, there's Loki, and Thor is unsure how the space in his heart is still filled despite everyone else being gone.

    ... It frightens him.

    He lowers his head onto Loki's chest, burying into him for a savoring moment. His forearms support the weight of Loki's legs, and when he lifts his chin, his hands find steady grips on the younger's calves. Leaning back, he puts Loki's feet to his shoulders and starting thrusting harder. He breathes out and realigns his eyes to Loki's, hardening them, hoping for the sake of all the realms that he doesn't beg. He doesn't know what he'll do if Loki begs.
    May 1st, 2018 at 11:29pm
  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    "Prettyprettypretty please?" No matter how upturned the corners of his mouth are Loki cannot bring himself to smile with the force of Thor steadily rocking through him. Instead he shakes out his hair and arches his back in hopes that the message is recieved.

    He's pinned, stuck in a memory that he has no control over. The only contact with reality is the hot burning sensation that gradually builds in his abdomen, threatening to boil over with every thrust of his brother's. There's no running, there's no hiding, there's only the mattress below him and Thor atop. He can't go back. He doesn't want to: it feels too good to return to old habits.

    Loki pants, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, "I can do better than that." He pauses a moment to regain himself only to get lost in the white knuckle fists he's made around the bedsheets. "Fuck me like you mean it, before we get caught. Please, please brother? Put me where I belong, where I need to be. Thor, Thor...." Loki loses his thought again to bite his lip, tasting a familiar sanguine tinge, "...fuck me, f-fuck me like you love me, too."

    Loki's checks burn bright as the moment steals words from his tongue, easily giving up his most guarded insecurities. Thor may not have studied the arcane but he had a way of magic not found on scrolls or in books that always drew out whatever it was Loki tried to hide.
    May 2nd, 2018 at 07:56am
  • the god of thunder.

    the god of thunder. (300)

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    A tremendous rupture sings throughout Thor's body, taking out each nerve so swiftly that his spine can't keep up. He slaps his hand swiftly against the bed, giving himself an outlet, and the voltage sears out of him and discharges into the mattress, searing the blanket in a hot explosion of cotton. He looks up, startled.

    He can't bring himself to tell Loki what this does to him, even when his body is betraying it all. The begging- the insinuation that Loki wants something from him, that he is willing to get it from him instead of seeking it elsewhere, is more than he has ever learned how to handle.

    "Brother," he pants, apologetic. He's grateful to have acted before he split Loki down the middle with a lightening storm. "I need help controlling it."

    But not right now is clear in the way he wraps his fingers around the back of Loki's neck, the tingling spark of leftover jolts teasing Loki's flesh.

    Strange, perhaps, but the diffusion of this... (magic? electric surge?) leaves in its wake the unadulterated hunger of his lust. He thrusts himself deep into Loki, slapping against him vigorously. His unoccupied hand curls around Loki's cock, fisting him to the movement of his hips. He aches to speak words that he only feels comfortable communicating with his body.
    May 2nd, 2018 at 08:44pm
  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    The sudden burst of electricity stuns Loki, flashing memories of countless backfires during his own arcane training before his eyes. When he comes back he’s gasping and writhing with the burning sensation of mixed seidr running through his veins. The brief storm hit him harder than Mjolnir ever had.

    ”What the hell?” Loki’s hiss is breathless in annoyance as his eyes finally refocus on his brother’s concerned look: since when did Thor possess such strange magic?

    But the annoyance is fleeting. Thor’s touch sends him reeeling into new emotions and desperately his body tries to thrust in time, failing to to keep any sort of rhythm. In vain his stomach fasciculates in an attempt to still force out the unwanted seidr through his finger tips. Through the barrage Loki’s skin is still tingling. Thor’s palm is still producing such a sting across Loki’s cock that his lower lip quivers with it, but he wouldn’t ask for it any other way. The sparks remind him of just who is balls-deep inside of him despite his inability to see straight.

    Thor is a barrage of sensation at his waist but a blurred vision of a golden hued angel. It was Thor’s shoulders that gave him away, if not for the electricity that teased his skin, broad and louder than his grunting.

    “Pleasepleaseplease.” Loki’s voice whimpers in the small space between them, fragile despite their frequency.

    Release comes as a burst of hot, green energy that takes over his entire being. Loki chokes on his brother’s name as he finally spills out over Thor’s hand in broken palpitations. He feels his hole contract around Thor’s cock with the strength of a virgin before his body convulses, his legs falling from Thor’s shoulders to draw up around his waist in a grasp that even the stars couldn’t split (a strength he didn’t know he previously possessed) and head sunk back into the mattress. With a final shout his back arches before he goes limp with the knive’s of Thor’s electric seidr still rippling across his tired entity.
    May 4th, 2018 at 07:37am
  • the god of thunder.

    the god of thunder. (300)

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    Thor watches Loki come, a tilted and proud smile inching across his face. He gives the younger a couple of shallow, hard thrusts near the end of it, greedily swallowing down the sounds he is making.

    When Loki's legs sink around him and pull him close, he removes his hand from Loki's cock and pulls out to jerk himself in it, soughing harshly at the slickness of Loki's semen in his palm. He's depraved in ways he was never allowed to be before, and it's that which he revels in as he spurts come over Loki's thighs and up his abdomen.

    Half-dizzy with pleasure, Thor leans down and wraps both his hands around Loki's head, only hard enough to inflict a slight bit of pressure. He presses his right thumb into Loki's cheek, demanding he nurse their shared release. Thor narrows his eyes, watching Loki's gleam green and smoky below him.

    "The city did burn," Thor rumbles playfully, his gaze challenging the other. His left hand slides up Loki's forehead, affectionately smoothing his disheveled hair back. "With shame for you. Have you ever been quite so desperate before, brother?"
    May 5th, 2018 at 05:23am
  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    Loki's cheeks burn with embarrassment so hot that he can feel them on his own ears at what just moments before were the best, albeit ephemeral, moments his life had to offer in months. He's staring volatile at the ceiling above them and attempting to catch his breath, his chest heaving with hushed gasps that flutter through his lips.

    "This is ridiculous." His words are all but a gush of steam that billows through the air.

    The sky had officially fallen and if it had not been for the drain that he'd experienced, both from his own orgasm and the electric storm that he could feel continually throbbing against his arteries, he'd take the chance to run. But Thor is lucky tonight. Instead Loki lays seething, angrily leaning into each of Thor's touches and taking his head back as his brother's palm attempts to tame the static, sweaty mess that is his hair. Just exactly when had the Thunderer been blessed with the actual power of his namesake? And why wasn't Loki informed promptly of his brother's new found ability? Already he feels the pressure to better his own craft. Mentally he's making lists of books to ravish through: if his craft was going to stay ahead of his brother's he had to start now.

    "And have you ever been so galvanizing before?" Loki's reply is swift but his cock is still throbbing at the success of his brother. "If I'd known you could potentially defibrillate me I don't think I would have been so willing." It's a lie, black across the pinkness of his tongue.

    But he stays where he is, making no motion to challenge his brother, and instead enjoys the the gentle respite that Thor offers him through his own irritation. With a huff he shifts onto his hip and curls into the cavern that his brother's chest offers.
    May 5th, 2018 at 06:04am
  • the god of thunder.

    the god of thunder. (300)

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    Thor is surprised- no, shocked- no, impressed with himself when he utters a laugh instead of capsizing with fear at his younger's resistance. Instead of worrying him, it fills his soul. Loki is so familiar. There are fierce clans of berserkers he would slaughter to get here, if he wasn't here already.

    Heaving himself further onto the bed, Thor rolls smoothly onto his back. He doesn't let go of Loki for a second, though, clasping him in the tightness of his arms so he never leaves his chest. "Yes you would have," he counters sharply, running a hand gradually down the other's leg. His words are hot with breath on Loki's neck. "Perhaps even more eager, with what I know of you. My brother, the lightening rod. You truly expose yourself to the raging storm and expect not to get struck?"

    He draws Loki's knee towards him, running his palm under the sensitive flesh of Loki's foot. Trying to distract himself, he glides the heel of the slender appendage over his spent cock, massaging the joints with his hands.

    The blackened slash across the bed bares deep into the mattress as though the furniture was sliced and cauterized. Thor can't help but look at it for a moment too long, struggling to grasp that something from inside of him attacked his reality so readily. This is certainly not his playing field. His hands cease their kneading, absently gripping Loki's foot for stability.

    "... Do you know why?" he finally submits, dropping the tease of his lips to Loki's throat in search of a genuine answer.
    May 5th, 2018 at 06:40am
  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    Loki looks up to meet Thor’s eyes with a glare that extends down over the sharpness of his nose and into a small pout on his lower lip at the phrase lightening rod. But he knows it to be true. He’s always taken the edge off of Thor: his anger, his happiness, his lust. Loki was the diffuser of storms and practically a meteorologist who specialized in the elemental God. He was a junkie storm chaser, continually searching for the eye of a hurricane.

    Petrichore fills the room, tinged with the familiar scent that is his brother. Thor’s brand of the phenomenon has always been somehow unique to Loki, he was unlike any storm that occurred naturally.

    Loki sighs against the touch of his brother’s lips, extending his neck to invite him in further. With deliberate, soft motions he runs his finger tips down the length of Thor’s abdomen in appreciation of the golden plated musculature that continues to radiate out a strange magic. It’s soft now, though, barely detectable and surrounding the Thunderer like an electrifying aura. When he focuses on it it stings the endings of Loki’s peripheral nervous system ending with an almost sour flavor glittering across his tongue. It’s an odd seidr for sure. In his experience most were more or less magnetic in their nature, drawing in and out the energies required to create and destroy. But this was sheer creation being drawn from nothing, it was true electricity.

    “You’re the God of thunder,” Loki sounds almost defeated despite enjoying the way Thor’s lips grace him, “do you know not what that entails?”

    Gentle and quick he grasps Thor’s chin and pulls him back to study his face before running his hands across the God’s cheeks and into his golden locks. For the god of thunder Thor shone like the sun.
    May 5th, 2018 at 07:49am
  • the god of thunder.

    the god of thunder. (300)

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    With a thoughtful expression curling his lips down, Thor glances from his brother's face and out into nothing. "But why would this manifest now?" he wonders idly, the trickle of the younger's fingertips through his scalp sending beads of soft pleasure into his consciousness. It's drizzling a little outside of the window- nothing he's responsible for, he's sure, but it makes him feel less like a live wire all the same. The comfort of clouds with full bellies has never been quite so strong. Perhaps this feeling is relief that the atmosphere is doing his job for him.

    When he turns his eyes back to Loki's face, the male is watching him. It's harsh enough to feel intrusive and make Thor want to bashfully turn his head to the side. He doesn't. Thor has never been particularly good at coveting autonomy when there's another option.

    "Why is it that we never spent much time in your room?" he asks suddenly, building the conversation into an entirely new entity. "Was that a clever deflection on your part, or was it my preference?" He's a little dulled as to the specifics of their youth. Only the explosive moments and the dragging ones stick out to him now. He remembers long patterns of Loki, but if prompted to conjure up a single outfit that the younger wore, he would fail. And yet the details feel precious, all of a sudden.
    May 7th, 2018 at 01:36am
  • the god of mischief.

    the god of mischief. (250)

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    “Perhaps you just had to be strong enough to handle it, first.” Loki muses softly, knowing full well that Thor is nowhere near strong enough to control this new seidr if he’s creating little power surges.

    With a tender abruptness he diverts his eyes from the raging storm that’s captured in the elder’s and instead focuses on the tendrils of spun gold that lace through his fingers. He’s lost so much time in the few years past. All of it meaningless and empty without Thor near him. As much as Loki hated to admit it without his brother he had very little to look forward to. Sure, he had his books and the arcane arts but it was nothing without at least competition. Thor drives him, decides his every move. And diverting from him for so long was at best boring.

    “I-I....” Loki stammers at his brother’s question as he comes back from the warm, mindless daydream of Thor’s hair in his fingers. He brings his hands back to himself. “I think it was just more scandalous.” Loki shifts himself off of his brother’s chest, dropping with a quiet thud onto the mattress beside him. “It’s not like you ever asked to go there anyways. You always just brought me here. You hardly visited. Wasn’t it I who would always come to you in the early morning hours?”

    Loki doesn’t mean for his last few words to come off as bitter and yet he can feel his tongue betray him, standing up for the feelings he’s kept buried. There were very few times that he could remember Thor ever sneaking off to see him in his own personal chambers. Was it the books? The specimens? Was he too much of a burden to be sought? Instead it was he who had to actively seek Thor’s touch in hushed whispers that screamed above the roar of the fireplace in his brother’s room. It had always discouraged him but he was too greedy and hopeful to ever admit it. With a quiet thud Loki rolls off of Thor’s chest and onto his hip, his back to and pressed against the sticky heat that is his brother, and tries to bury himself in what is left of the blankets.

    And then he digresses mentally in denial of the anxiety building in his chest, there was no way that Thor was ready to control this, "Maybe its catharsis." He offers the answer to Thor's previous question in a careless sigh.
    May 8th, 2018 at 07:11am