Chapter Text
“Wake up!”
Thor groans.
“Come now, Aesir. Wake up!”
He feels a slap to his cheek and slowly opens his eyes, blinking against the light.
When he regains his focus (the gnawing headache doesn’t exactly make things easier), he finds Loki squating in front of him on the snow. They’re outside, and it’s morning. Or, day at least. Thor can’t say what time it is - or for how long he’s been unconscious for that matter.
Loki presses a handful of snow to his mouth.
“Drink,” he orders.
Thor finds that his hands and legs are bound. And that he is indeed thirsty. So he swallows the snow, not even letting it melt in his mouth before gulping it down.
“Slow down,” Loki says, withdrawing his hand a little and frowning at him.
“Where are we?” Thor asks, his voice sounding hoarse.
All around them are nothing but trees, covered in frost and snow. Then he remembers what happened.
“Where are the other Jotun?”
“I’ve asked them for some privacy,” Loki states simply, offering him some more snow.
“Privacy?”
Loki watches him take another swallow. “Yes. They might be my brothers, but they don’t need to watch me lower myself like this.”
At first Thor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Then Loki moves and his coat falls open just a little, and Thor catches a whiff of his scent.
Thor stares at him.
“I thought I could make it to Utgard but apparently I don’t have control over this body anymore,” Loki continues, brushing the last of the snow off his hand and then fumbling at the fastenings of Thor’s breeches. “So I had to wake you up a little earlier than intended.”
“Wait, Loki,” Thor begins, trying to shift away from him. “I don’t think that-”
“Oh no!” Loki grabs his chin and forces Thor to look back at him. “You’ve brought us into this misery. And now you will endure the consequences.”
With that he reaches down and frees Thor’s co*ck. Then he shrugs back his own coat and bares himself, sending another wave of his alluring scent Thor’s way.
Thor doesn’t know why he responds so much faster than before, but he’s already half-hard just from watching the mage stripping from his breeches.
The Jotun’s co*ck is fully erect again, the tip shining with precum.
When a cold hand reaches out to touch him, Thor gasps at the contact, but the soothing, even movements that follow warm him up in a matter of heartbeats.
Then Loki sinks down onto him again, and something inside Thor shifts.
The minutes pass. But apart from Loki getting more and more furious as he pushes himself up and down in Thor’s lap, nothing happens.
He lets out a frustrated cry and slumps against Thor’s chest, breathing hard.
“Untie me, and I will help you,” Thor offers.
“f*ck you!”
Thor lets his head fall back against the tree he’s tied to. Above them the sky is covered in gray.
Then a movement behind Loki’s shoulder startles him. The smaller giant is watching them from behind a tree, brows furrowed and arms crossed.
“We, uh- have an audience,” Thor mutters. He feels Loki stiffen.
He sits up in Thor’s lap and says something in the strange tongue Thor’s heard him use before. The Jotun jerks a little. But then, to Thor’s horror, he steps around the tree and walks over to where they’re sitting.
When he’s only a few steps away, he speaks in such a gentle way that Thor’s taken aback for a moment. The words are directed at Loki, who snaps his head around and spits, “Of course I know how it’s done! Now piss off!”
The giant speaks again, and though he sounds like Loki’s reaction seems to set him off, his voice remains gentle.
“Yes, I am sure, Helbindi. He only has one! So how could I choose the wrong one?”
Helbindi makes a surprised noise, then shrugs. He growls something, shooting Thor a quick look.
“He can’t understand you,” Loki groans, tugging at the roots of his hair. “So either switch to common, or f*ck off! You’re not helping.”
“He isn’t either!” Helbindi protests, which Thor has to agree with.
“Do you want to f*ck me instead?”
The giant’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back.
“Good. So stay the f*ck out of my business!”
“Helbindi’s right. You’re horrible at this.” The second Jotun has joined their merry little gathering. “Really. It’s almost painful to watch.”
“Why then,” Loki hisses in a dangerously low voice, “are you watching me, when I have made it very clear that you’re not invited to?!”
The Jotun answers something in his native tongue.
“How could he hurt me?” Loki shouts. “He’s tied to a tree, moron!”
“Yeah, but that’s the whole problem. He can’t f*ck you like that. You’re f*cking him.”
Loki’s response is foreign to Thor’s ears, but it’s unmistakably an insult.
Helbindi steps in again, raising his hands trying to diffuse the tension.
“Why don’t we untie the Aesir? Byleistr and I could stand by and make sure he doesn’t try anything funny?” He looks at Thor and adds: “We’ll simply rip him in two if he so much as looks at you the wrong way.”
“No! You will not stay and watch, you imbecile!”
To which Thor wholeheartedly agrees. He’s not particularly shy, but having sex with an enemy in heat and having his brothers watch - it’d take a whole new level of exhibitionism to cope with that.
“Fine, go on then,” Byleistr says, rolling his eyes. “But hurry up. I actually want to return home before nightfall.”
He motions at Helbindi and both Jotun march off a little further into the forest.
In Thor’s lap, Loki bites down on his lower lip, eyes pressed shut and hands curled into fists.
Thor looks him over, frowning.
Whatever is going on here, the biochemicals the scent has released in his brain are keeping him hard and it’s starting to get very uncomfortable.
Loki shifts his position, and Thor lets out an undignified groan. The movement sets his whole lower body on fire.
“Either keep that up, or stop moving,” he mutters, pulling at the rope around his wrists.
“Shut up,” Loki snaps. But he starts rolling his hips nonetheless.
A few minutes later Thor comes with a shudder and a cry. The relief is sweet and he slumps forward, his forehead landing on Loki’s cool shoulder.
The mage goes still. Blinking down Thor can see that he’s still very far from reaching his own climax. And Thor’s co*ck is already going soft.
The Jotun must feel it, too, because in the next moment he shouts out in frustration, grabs Thor’s head in both his hands and slams it against the tree behind him.
The pain sends stars to Thor’s vision.
Then Loki lets go of him. He rises in one swift motion and stalks away without a word.
Long minutes pass. So long in fact, that Thor’s starting to think that maybe he’s been left to die, tied to this tree.
He can’t really say if he feels sorry about that.
Then Helbindi steps into his field of vision.
He eyes Thor with open curiosity. His gaze wanders to his lap.
“Huh. You really just have one.”
“What?” Thor musters to ask.
“Your penis. You just have one penis.”
Thor blinks at him. “Uh… yes?”
Helbindi squats down, a scrutinizing look on his face as he inspects Thor’s private parts more closely. Thor feels utterly exposed.
“You have two testicl*s though,” he analyzes. “Shouldn’t you have a penis for each of them?”
“What for? Their women also only have one hole.” That’s Byleistr, coming around from the other side.
“No! They have three! Gonbar showed me!”
“But only one is for breeding,” Byleistr says, slapping the back of his brother’s head.
He looks at Thor. “I should kill you for what you did to my brother. But it would only make things worse.”
Thor doesn’t answer. He just stares back and holds Byleistr’s gaze.
“Get him up and ready,” the Jotun says to his brother. “We have to get going.”
It takes a few tries for Thor to stand on his feet. Having spent a considerable amount of time in an uncomfortable position on the ground getting straddled by a frustrated Jotun left him weak on his legs and they’re shaking when he first tries to stand.
Thankfully Helbindi cuts the ties around his ankles, which helps a little.
There’s an awkward moment when Helbindi has to readjust Thor’s breeches (because his hands are still tied behind his back), but thankfully the Jotun doesn’t follow his earlier curiosity with on-model prodding, and simply reties the fasteners.
They catch up with Byleistr, who’s waiting with Loki, and then they start off south, if Thor assumes correctly.
Byleistr and Helbindi speak in hushed tones in their own language. Loki is silent and doesn’t so much as glance in his direction. Which leaves Thor to his own thoughts.
As they march on, the trees around them grow scarce, the forest turning into an overgrown Tundra filled with snow covered scrubs.
The light around them is dimming slowly, meaning they’ve passed noon and are going further into the afternoon. Thor wonders how long they’re going to keep him alive. He’s clearly slowing them down, and as the day passes so does his strength. After all, he hasn’t eaten in a day and his injured leg is giving him a hard time.
He glances over at Loky, who walks a few paces ahead. The mage is panting, cheeks a light purple, but staring straight ahead and marching on.
Thor catches the other two Jotun watching Loki and exchange worried glances.
“We should stop here and find shelter for the night,” Byleistr says at some point.
“We will keep going,” Loki retorts sharply without turning to look at him.
“But we won’t reach home in the light,” Helbindi points out.
“Then we’ll keep going in the dark,” Loki hisses through gritted teeth.
That’s when Byleistr finally reaches out and grabs him by the arm.
“Loki,” he says, stopping him with a soft pull. “Your scent will send the wolves on our track. And the other things, too. We can’t go on after dark. You know that.”
Loki still doesn’t look at him.
“Also,” Byleistr’s eyes briefly shift over to Thor. “You need him to f*ck you again. You know you can’t put it off for much longer.”
Loki rips his arm free and shakes his head.
Then Helbindi steps to his side, touching his large forehead to Loki’s small temple and starts speaking to him in that gentle voice again. Thor can’t understand what he’s saying, but the effect on Loki is visible. The tension eases from his shoulders a little and he lowers his head.
“Alright,” Byleistr says after a moment. “There’s an old hut nearby. Probably stinks of ice hound, but better than camping out in the open.”
About half an hour later they arrive at what Byleistr had called a hut. To Thor it looks more like a small barn. Unevenly placed boulders make up crooked walls and the roof is nothing more than stacked reed. Inside there are two empty rooms, divided by another wall. They both smell horrible.
Helbindi shoves Thor into the smaller one. There’s no window here, but a small fireplace.
“We don’t like raw meat,” Helbindi explains at Thor’s surprised look. “Loki? Can you conjure us a fire?”
Thor turns his head and finds that Loki has entered behind them. He shakes his head.
Thor frowns. He remembers the witchlight that the mage had made the night before. Why can’t he just do it again?
“Alright,” Helbindi sighs and pats his coat. After a moment he produces a set of firestones and walks over to the stack of dusty logs perched in a corner. He has a fire going in no time. Thor welcomes the heat. Spending hours walking through the snow has left him frozen to the bone.
When he’s done, Helbindi looks over to Loki and says: “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
On his way out, he adds something in their shared language, and Thor watches Loki bite his lip in response. Then they’re alone.
For a moment, Loki just stands there, eyes glued to the fire. Then he takes a deep breath and shrugs out of his coat. The rest of his clothes follow and he walks over to Thor.
“Do you think it’s wise to keep this up?” Thor asks, as blue hands reach out for the fasteners on his breeches.
Loki looks up at him then, raising an eyebrow. “Do you assume I’m doing this because I have a choice?”
Thor holds his gaze and lets his brain register the words.
“Maybe you fancy yourself with the idea that I desire you?” Loki adds, a little more snide in his tone now. He grips Thor by the front of his pants and pulls him forward, close enough that their noses almost touch.
“Know this, Aesir. If I had any choice in this, you’d be dead and bleeding out at my feet right now.”
Then he pulls on the fasteners and Thor’s breeches fall to the ground. His coat goes, too, cool hands shoving it off his shoulders. Loki looks him over, slowly. His red eyes find Thor’s blue ones, staring into them. Thor can’t read their intent.
He feels the effects of Loki’s scent again, enhanced by the warmth flooding the room. His co*ck is showing first signs of interest and his pulse quickens in his veins.
“Lay down,” Loki orders, taking a step away from the fire and gesturing towards the ground.
The thought of refusal crosses Thor’s mind. But even if he managed to best a Jotun mage with both his hands tied to his back, the noise would certainly alarm the other giants and send them to investigate.
No. Escape wouldn’t be possible under these circ*mstances. And he’d still be lost in the snow after all.
Thor pushes the thought away for now and complies. It’s an awkward position with his tied hands pressing into the small of his back. The ground is cold, and he shivers. The hands on his body are cold as well, working their way around his co*ck and stroking it to full hardness.
Then Loki pushes himself onto him, eyes closed and letting out a long breath.
What follows is about half an hour of the worst sex Thor’s ever had - not that it’s deserving of being called sex in the first place.
His arms have gone numb, his legs and lower back feel sore, and even his co*ck aches and threatens to lose interest in the matter altogether, although the warmth between the mage’s legs is as wet and welcoming as ever.
The Jotun above him is moaning and working himself up and down on Thor’s erection like he’s in a trance, but his face is crumpled in frustration and his whole body is tense.
Thor licks his lips and tries for reason. “Loki. Stop.”
Red eyes open to stare down at him, but the motion continues.
“This isn’t working,” Thor says, trying to sound as gentle as possible.
“Really?” Loki snaps back, sounding very much out of breath. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Then can we finally try this the way your brother suggested?”
Loki’s face hardens. “Absolutely not.”
“I think you should listen to the Aesir!” Byleistr calls from the other room.
“Shut up!” Loki growls back, pounding Thor even harder, if that’s at all possible.
“But-” Thor starts again.
“Let me make this very clear to you,” Loki pants and eyes Thor like he’s trying to set him on fire with just one look. “I will never let you put me on my back again, Aesir. The only reason I haven’t killed you for your transgression is that this body of mine has decided it needs you. But I will find a way to persuade it otherwise.”
“So far, you’re doing great,” Thor remarks dryly, yelping when Loki digs sharp fingernails into his side as a response.
Thor closes his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. “Alright, alright,” he starts again. “Let’s just… talk this through. If you keep going like this all you’ll do is get us both sore and more frustrated. I don’t understand much about heat, I’ll admit that,” he ignores the snort this earns him, “but it’s really obvious that what you’re doing here is not going to get you off. The times this has actually worked was when I was able to lay my hands on you. So I think you should untie me.”
“Not happening.”
“Loki!” Thor growls, snapping his hips up and throwing the Jotun off his rhythm. Finally, the pounding stops. The mage stares at Thor.
“Believe me or not, but I would like to get out of this situation just as much as you do,” Thor informs him, holding his gaze with a frown.
“I’m not untying you!”
Thor lets out a frustrated groan. They’ve successfully f*cked themselves into a corner.
Then an idea hits him.
“Tie me to one of the pillars, then,” he says, motioning in their direction with his head. He’s starting to feel a bit dizzy here on the ground.
“Tie me up around my chest, one hand behind my back and one free to touch you. That should do the trick and satisfy your need to be suspicious.”
Loki just looks at him, sweat moving down his temples. When he opens his mouth to speak, Byleistr marches in and Helbindi peeks through the doorway.
“I will do it for you, if it means we’ll finally get this over with.”
Together the two giants tie Thor up against a pillar close to the wall opposite the fire. He’s sitting up now, left hand behind his back, torso bound to the cold stone at his back.
His body aches from the coupling on the floor, the lack of food and the general strain of the last day, but he feels a little more comfortable in this position. He feels the blood flowing back into his free arm.
Byleistr and Helbindi leave them to it, not without giving Loki a reassuring pat on the head.
With a huff, Loki sits down next to him, making a face when he notices that Thor’s co*ck has gone soft again. “Will this never end,” he mutters under his breath as he reaches out his hand with a sigh of resignation.
“Wait,” Thor rushes to say, batting his hand away. “I’ll do it.”
The thought of having to endure another few minutes of cold hand tugging on his dick without skill making him shiver.
He takes himself into his own - much warmer - hand and begins his work.
Loki watches him, head crooked a little to the side.
“Come here,” Thor says eventually, when he’s ready to go again. He guides the mage onto his co*ck and then into a slow but steady rhythm.
It feels much better than before and soon Loki’s closing his eyes, throwing his head back just a little, all tension gone from his face.
Thor watches him with lidded eyes, wondering for a while how it must feel for him, being filled with the enemy’s co*ck and slowly riding it.
He reaches out and glides his hand over Loki’s torso, rubbing at his nipple once his fingers brush over it.
Loki twitches and grabs his wrist. “Don’t,” he snaps.
He guides Thor’s hand down to his erection.
“Touch me,” he orders, and Thor complies.
He’s mildly aware of how calloused his hand is, what with having just felt it on himself. But the Jotun doesn’t seem to mind it all too much. Instead he moans in pleasure when Thor delivers the first stroke.
“That sounds more like it,” Byleistr shouts from the other room. But the mage either doesn’t hear him or is too busy gasping to call out a response. He comes with a shiver in Thor’s hand, falling forward onto him.
Thor gives the Jotun a moment to catch his breath. Then he buckles up his hips, making him yelp a little.
“Come on, you’re not done yet,” Thor says. And really, the Jotun’s erection hasn’t gone down. He starts stroking it again.
Loki groans, head still slumped against Thor’s shoulder, but he starts moving again.
It takes longer this time, but when he finally comes for a second time, the contractions take Thor over the edge with him.
They stay in their little bundle of tangled limbs, both out of breath and half leaning on each other for support.
“I hate you.” Loki’s voice sounds muffled against his shoulder.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Thor says, but his heart’s not in it. He’s too tired. On top of that, his leg hurts like it’s on fire. “Will there be another round of this, or are we finally good?”
He feels Loki shrug his shoulders.
“At this rate? Who f*cking knows.”
Great. Letting out a long sigh, Thor lets his head slump back against the pillar. The dizziness is threatening to take over his whole body. The Jotun doesn’t move. But Thor’s too exhausted to complain.
And so he just allows himself to give in to the darkness that’s creeping up from the corners of his eyes. Sleep or unconsciousness - who can tell?
- - -
He’s sure someone’s calling him, but he’s far too tired to wake up.
He can’t even open his eyes. They’re too heavy.
He feels a sharp pounding in his leg, though he doesn’t remember why.
He drifts back into the darkness.
The next thing he registers is the feeling of cold hands on him. They wander all over his body, touching his chest, his thighs… He feels them on his co*ck next. They tug at it, but Thor’s body is still too tired to respond.
A small slap and angry shouting follows. Then he’s gone again.
The ground is moving. And it’s cold everywhere now.
Through his eyelids he can make out light.
A cold wetness is pressed to his mouth.
“He won’t drink.”
“What if you force it down?”
“And what if he chokes? Look at him! He’s so tiny.”
“He has a fever. He needs to drink.”
“He’s too far gone, Loki. Let him rest a little first.”
“He’ll die from dehydration!”
“Well, you should’ve thought of that a little sooner, don’t you think?”
“I had other things to worry about!”
“Shut up, both of you! We’re almost home. He only has to make it a little longer.”
The voices die away again.
- - -
When Thor does finally wake, he finds himself in a large bed covered in miles and miles of fur. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace beside him.
He’s naked apart from the thick bandage around his leg, and feels utterly disorientated.
He lifts a hand to brush it over his face and finds that he can barely bring it up to his chest. His arm feels like it’s filled with lead. He groans and slumps back down on the furs.
He carefully takes a look around the room. It’s large and every piece of furniture appears at least twice the size of what he’s used to.
He’s still in Jotun custody, then.
A soft rustling on the other side of the bed has Thor nearly jumping off it.
There, curled in on himself, is Loki, sleeping.
Thor watches his chest rise and fall in even breaths. Like Thor, he’s naked. His soft blue skin is gleaming with sweat, probably due to the fire.
Why on earth Loki would choose to sleep beside him when he is clearly uncomfortable with the heat is beyond Thor.
“It’s rude to stare, Aesir.”
Thor lifts his gaze to find red eyes staring at him, Loki’s face an unreadable mask.
“Where are we?”
“Utgard.”
Jotunheim’s capital. If you could call a city of ruins that, at least.
“What happened?”
“The wound on your leg got infected, causing you to develop a fever. You were out for almost three days. We already thought we’d have to put you out of your misery.”
Thor lets the words register. Then he notices something.
“I’m not in chains anymore.”
Loki yawns. “A child could knock you down with a puff. Right now you’re as much of a threat as these rugs.”
Thor has to agree to that. He feels like he just single handedly uprooted the tree of life.
“So you won’t kill me then?” he asks, still not knowing what to make of this.
Loki looks at him, annoyed. “We just dragged you a hundred miles through ice and snow, cleaned your wounds and patched you up. What do you think?”
“Why am I here, then?”
Loki’s eyes wander down to his co*ck. Thor’s mouth suddenly feels very dry.
So, what? He’s to become a Jotun’s sex-slave?
“Go back to sleep, Aesir,” Loki says, closing his own eyes.
And even though his mind is going a mile a minute, Thor finds that his body is still too tired to be kept awake for long, and he drifts off shortly after.
- - -
“And there really is nothing you can do?”
“I’m sorry, my prince. Once a bond is formed there’s no way to break it.”
Slowly, Thor drifts out of sleep’s grasp and into the waking world.
He hears Loki’s voice beside him, and this time, they’re not alone.
“I’m not sure that this doesn’t come as an advantage,” a third voice says, contemplating.
“Father!”
“Do you not know who he is?”
“I- he’s the first general of Asgard’s army.”
“Yes,” the third voice agrees. “And he’s Odin’s first born son.”
“He- WHAT?”
“An opportunity, I agree,” says the second voice. “The heir to the Asgardian throne, tied to the second prince of Jotunheim. Maybe the odds are finally in our favor.”
Thor opens his eyes.
Loki’s kneeling at the foot of the bed. The two Jotun beside him tower above Thor, red eyes gleaming with curiosity. One of them looks a lot like Loki, the other one is smaller, maybe just a head or two above his own height, and incredibly old.
“Ah,” says Laufey, the King of Jotunheim. “Welcome, Thor, son of Odin. I am pleased to see you healing.”
Thor’s eyes widen. The last time he met the king, Thor’s father was accepting his surrender and thus ending the great war, many years ago.
“I apologize for this humble abode,” the king continues. “But by the time of your arrival we had not yet news that you were kin.”
Thor blinks. “Kin?” he asks, not sure if he’s heard right.
“Yes, of course,” Laufey says, clasping a hand to Loki’s shoulder. “Seeing as you are my son's spouse.”
“I…” He turns his head to stare at Loki. The mage frowns back at him. “I’m not quite sure that I…”
“It appears the prince hasn’t given up much information to our guest,” the old Jotun muses, stroking his wrinkly skin.
“I saw no need,” Loki protests. “I was hoping you would be able to undo this madness.”
The old giant shoots him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, my prince. But I can’t break a bond formed by age-old magic.”
“I’m sorry,” Thor says, trying, and failing, to keep his voice calm. “But what is going on here?”
“Oh,” the old Jotun says, turning to face him. “It’s quite easy, really. You see, Jotun heat cycles are unique. Once a Jotun goes into heat for the first time, he goes out to attract a mate. Once he’s found someone suitable, they couple and are thus bonded. It is the equivalent of what you would call a marriage.”
Thor stares at him.
“Are you saying,” he starts slowly, “that Loki and I are-”
“Bonded, yes,” the Jotun supplies helpfully. “Or married. Whichever term you prefer. Since you were so, ah… insistent on helping him in his hour of need.”
Loki snorts at the comment, suppressed anger gleaming in his eyes, while Thor feels his blood run cold.
“I suggest you rest some more, Odinson, before we send word to Asgard,” Laufey says, already turning to leave. “Loki, I want to have a word with you, after you're done here.”
And with that, he’s gone. Thor stares after him.
The old Jotun begins to inspect his injured leg. “It’s healing nicely. I think it should be safe for him to lay with you again, my prince. How are you feeling?”
That last question is directed at Thor.
“I uh-” he stutters, mind still trying to wrap around the news.
“Why hasn’t my heat passed yet?” Loki asks, frowning at Thor’s co*ck, like it can supply the answer to that question.
“I do not know, my prince. It’s not usual for a cycle to last this long.” The old man sighs and rubs his nose. “But then again we’ve never witnessed one in a Jotun as small as yourself. And certainly never in one bonded to anyone but another Jotun. These are all factors we have to consider.”
He wraps the bandage around Thor’s leg again.
“I will leave you now. Make sure not to strain him, your highness. He’s not yet at his full strength.”
“Probably a blessing,” Loki mutters under his breath as the old man closes the door behind himself.
Thor’s mind is racing, trying to process all the newfound information. He’s in deep, deep sh*t.
He’s so occupied with his thoughts, it takes him some time to notice Loki is staring at him.
When he finally does look at the mage, he’s met with cold rage in the red eyes.
“Shall we get to it then?” Loki asks sharply. “Husband?” He practically spits out that last word.
Thor tries to push himself up into a more dignified position. His arms give out under him and he falls back into the furs.
“I… don’t think I can manage,” he breathes.
“Oh, I think you can,” the Jotun growls, crawling up beside him and flinging one leg over Thor’s hip, straddling him. “Because I will not put this off another day.”
And with that he gets to work.
Thor shivers at the touch of cool hands, but eventually they grow warm from stroking him.
But the effect of Loki’s scent on Thor must’ve worn off, or he really is too tired, because his body takes no interest in the mages coaxing. His co*ck remains soft.
Frustrated, Loki shouts something in his own language. At first it sounds like another curse to Thor’s ears, but then the door opens again and the old Jotun steps in, giving a small bow, so he must’ve been calling for him.
Loki growls a flood of foreign words at him, to which the Jotun only responds with a soft shake of his head.
“Maybe you should feed him first,” he says, and Thor grows kind of tired of being talked about like a mindless pet. He agrees, though. He feels famished.
“Another day of rest won’t hurt either,” he grumbles, shifting uncomfortably under Loki’s weight.
“Oh no!” Loki barks at him. “I will not go through another night of this!” He gestures vaguely at his own erection.
“Your highness,” the old Jotun interjects. “Exhausting your mate won’t bring you any relief at all.”
“Mate!” Loki barks out a humorless laugh. “He’s a beast. A monster! Tied himself to my bed and now I can’t get rid of him! Is this the official definition of a mate?”
He tugs at his hair, breathing hard.
“This is driving me mad, Gonbar! I feel like my whole body is itching below my skin, and the only way to scratch it is…” He gestures at Thor.
“There has to be a way to make this stop! To put an end to this.”
“Well,” the old Jotun says. “At least I think I know how to help with the current problem. A moment, please, your highnesses.”
Gonbar scurries from the room, leaving both Thor and Loki staring behind him.
“Did he just… address me as ‘your highness’?”
Loki looks down at him, but doesn’t answer. He runs a hand over the muscles on Thor’s stomach instead, frowning. There’s a hungry glint in his eyes.
Thor feels a slight tingle where the Jotun has touched him.
Gonbar returns, carrying a bowl filled with gray musk in one hand and a tiny bottle in the other.
He sets down the bowl on the low table beside the bed and then proceeds to pour a small amount of liquid from the bottle inside, afterwards stirring it to mix with the musk.
“Here,” he says, handing the bowl to Loki. “Feed him this. I’ve put some vitalizing potion into the fish paste.” He turns to look at Thor. “It should give you enough strength to carry out… shall we call it your matrimonial duty? After that you’ll find it easier to rest. As will our prince.”
He bows again and leaves.
Thor looks up at Loki, who’s staring at the bowl in his hand. He’s not too keen on the idea of being fed, so he says: “If you help me sit up, I can eat on my own.”
It takes some shuffling and a few rolled up furs in his back, but they manage to get Thor into an upright enough position so that he can swallow the mush properly.
But Loki does have to feed him eventually. After the first spoonful, all of Thor’s last energy simply evaporates and he can’t properly lift it to his lips.
He feels very undignified, sitting there being fed like a toddler (and Loki sure as hell tries to choke him with the spoon more than once). But after half the bowl he feels stronger already, the weariness drying from his limbs, and he takes the spoon back in his own hand.
Bite by bite his exhaustion ceases.
Thor feels warmth rising through him, starting in his stomach and moving up his spine, no doubt sending color to his cheeks again.
But up is not the only way the warmth travels.
As he’s finishing the final spoons of fish paste (that, to his surprise, doesn’t taste half as bad as it looks) it begins to coil in his lower regions as well. And by the time he’s finished his meal, his co*ck is up and ready to go.
“Vitalizing,” Thor muses. The nerves in his whole body tingle and feel strangely on edge. “Is that what you call aphrodisiacs on Jotunheim?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. And now, shut up,” Loki grumbles and climbs back into Thor’s lap rather unceremoniously.
It takes him a moment to adjust, but then he’s pushing himself down onto Thor’s co*ck.
They both shiver once Thor’s properly seated inside him, and when Loki begins to move his hips it sets Thor’s whole body on fire.
He groans, gripping Loki’s waist, pulling him close. Loki allows it, head thrown back, eyes closed.
But when Thor starts to line his chest with open-mouthed kisses, the Jotun pushes against him, bringing some space between them.
“Don’t,” he snaps and redirects one of Thor’s wandering hands to his co*ck.
Thor closes his fist and pumps, making Loki gasp and dig his fingers into Thor’s shoulders.
From here it only takes a minute, and the Jotun is shuddering at the height of his climax.
“Finally,” he rasps, out of breath.
Thor’s body, on the other hand, isn’t done with their little activity at all.
He feels his blood rushing at what has to be the speed of light, skin prickling with sweat and electricity alike. Somewhere, in a far corner of his mind, he wonders whether Gonbar might have been a little too generous with his elixir.
The greater part of him though, the one that is currently in control of his actions, seems to proceed on its own now.
As Loki prepares to slide off his co*ck, Thor grabs him by the waist again, pushing, and flipping him on his stomach.
Loki lets out a surprised yelp, and then curses, trying to wriggle free from Thor’s grasp.
But Thor just shoves him face down into the furs.
By the time Loki manages to push himself up on his elbows, Thor’s already gliding back into him from behind, making the mage curse even more.
“How dare-” But Loki’s cut off by the frantic haste with which Thor’s rutting into him, holding his hips in place with one hand and planting another between Loki’s shoulder blades so he can’t get up.
The world around Thor caves in, fading away to nothing but the steady in and out of his co*ck and the warm wetness between Loki’s legs. In trance he keeps up the rhythm, not hearing any of the curses Loki spits at him, not even noticing how Loki’s limbs eventually give in and he collapses back into the furs.
By the time Thor finally feels his own climax on the horizon, the Jotun has reached his fifth org*sm.
And when Thor finally comes, his mind fades to black. Some distant part of him registers falling and landing on Loki’s - now very warm - body beneath him.
After that, he knows nothing for a while.
- - -
An hour and a half later, Loki still feels lightheaded and shaky when he walks up to his father’s rooms, a little bowlegged.
He’s freshly bathed, his skin almost purple from where he’s scrubbed it manically.
He feels simultaneously dirty and utterly sated. It’s driving him mad.
“There you are,” Laufey greets him, looking up from a parchment in his hands, taking him in from head to toe.
“We need to find a way to break the bond,” Loki announces right away, marching up to his father. “I will not endure another of these violations!”
“Violations?” Laufey raises an eyebrow.
“He practically mounted me like a beast!” Loki shouts, beginning to pace before his father’s writing desk. “He nearly breaks me in half with his rutting, and then falls unconscious on top of me! It took me an eternity to free myself from under him!”
“And his co*ck hasn’t even gone down,” Loki continues, raking a hand through his still damp hair. “I checked before I came here. He’s out cold, but the wretched thing is still standing up like it’s the tree of life itself!”
Loki shivers at the thought of the hot, pink, fleshen pillar that’s waiting for him in their makeshift bedroom. And he’s horrified to find that a not so small part of him wants to return there and sit back down on it.
“The potion is working then, I take it.” Laufey sounds unfazed. At his son’s glare he adds: “Well, it appears to be a bit overdosed. Nonetheless it fulfilled its purpose.”
“And what purpose would that be?”
“Satisfying your needs.”
“What I need is to get out of this farce! There has to be a way to undo the magic! Gonbar must have overlooked it! If you could give me some time in the library before you send word to Asgard, I could-”
Laufey’s piercing gaze stops Loki in his rant.
“You will do, as you are told,” the king says, his voice sharp and low. “Cease your whining. You put yourself into this mess. Had you not gone off on your own, trying to escape your mating ritual, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. This is your fault, and your fault alone.”
“So what you’re saying is that you're glad to have that monster in my bed, because it’s teaching me a lesson?”
Laufey barks a deep laugh. “What’s waiting for you in that chamber couldn’t be farther from a monster.”
“He’s the enemy who slaughtered half our legions on his own,” Loki protests, feeling his face hot with anger.
“Exaggerations.” Lafey waves it off. “The horrors of war lead people to form history into legend.”
He looks down at Loki pensively. “I’ve coddled you too much, I’m afraid. You’ve been shielded from the world and all her hardships and only lived on the tales of the elder. The world has changed, little one. And there are far greater dangers to you out there, than sharing the bed of the heir to the throne of Asgard.”
Loki stares at him, eyes burning with tears of rage. “How can you say that? How can you give me away to the enemy like it’s nothing?”
“It surely isn’t nothing,” Laufey says gently, reaching out and patting his son’s hair. “Don’t you see? Asgard’s greatest weapon is now in our hands. In giving you to the Aesir, we’ll form the first strategic bond between our realms in millenia. There has never been a Jotun bloodline on Asgard, and now you are married to the king’s firstborn son. So you’re wrong. I’m not seeing this as your punishment.”
Loki grits his teeth and looks away from his father. He does not want to hear those words.
“So this is it then? Your plan? Selling me off as a broodmare to create a Jotun who’s next in line for the throne of Asgard?”
“Loki,” his father begins, but Loki doesn’t wait for the rest.
He simply turns and hurries out, slamming the doors behind him.
His mind rushing with a thousand thoughts chasing each other he doesn’t pay any attention to where he’s going, until he’s reached the door to the room the Aesir is kept in.
He groans.
Can’t he be free of him for one second?
He half turns to storm off into the opposite direction. But the sheer prospect of moving away from that door, even for an inch, and not going inside suddenly seems impossible to fathom.
So Loki goes in, only to find the Aesir’s co*ck still up and waiting for him.
He shudders a sigh - and climbs up on the bed.
Lifting his tunic he swings one leg over the hips of his unconscious mate and lowers himself onto him.
Loki has to admit that this is better than having to bring himself off next to a sleeping Aesir who’s too exhausted to even lift his head (let alone his co*ck), like he has done for the past few days. While the Asir was sleeping all Loki could do was to take in his scent while taking himself in hand whenever his heat flared back up. It went… poorly, to put it nicely.
Now Loki closes his eyes, feeling the strong muscles of the Aesir’s torso underneath his hands, and rocks his hips, the pleasure of it going through him in waves.
If only this didn’t feel so good. If only he didn’t remember the sensation of calloused hands gripping at and stroking him. Maybe then he’d hate himself a little less.
- - -
Thor drifts in and out of consciousness again. He has no feeling for time or space.
He wakes to find Loki towering over him, pressing a soft cloth to his temple.
The next time he wakes to Loki riding him, panting in pleasure.
He’s never there for long though. The darkness keeps its place at the corners of his field of vision and calls him back quickly.
He follows gladly.
- - -
The next day (at least Thor thinks it is the next day, he still has no idea how long he’s been out) two Jotun bring a wooden bathtub filled with water and put it near the fireplace in his room.
“You reek,” Loki informs him from where he’s perched on the bed. “Take a bath.”
“And here I thought you liked the way I smell,” Thor retorts, because it hasn’t escaped him how the mage sometimes leans in, breathing in the air around Thor. And judging by the way Loki stills, color rising to his cheeks, he’s right.
Thor climbs out of the bed, limbs and joints strangely stiff but thanks to the rest and his recent meal at least not that weak anymore.
He staggers over to the tub, eager to rid himself of all the grime and sweat from the past few days. But when he reaches out to check the water, he stops and turns to look at Loki.
“This isn’t by chance mixed with another aphrodisiac?” he half jokes, raising an eyebrow.
Loki's expression grows dark. “Trust me, I will personally make sure that potion never gets anywhere near you again.”
Thor studies his face for a moment, then decides to believe him.
“Huh,” he says instead, once his fingers break through the water’s surface.
“What now?” Loki asks, annoyed.
“The water’s gone cold.” And really, it’s barely lukewarm.
“What do you mean?”
Thor turns again, frowning. “The water is cold.”
Loki just stares at him, confusion written over his features. “What did you expect the water to be? Freezing?”
“Warm,” Thor retorts, a glimmer of understanding rising in his mind. “But of course you would be bathing in cold water,” he says slowly, remembering the feeling of cool Jotun skin under his hands.
“Wait,” Loki says, blinking. “Are you implying that on Asgard you bathe in warm water?”
“Uh,” Thor says. “Yes?”
Loki sits up. “You’re joking.”
“Uh, no…” His eloquence has left him, it appears.
“But, does it not hurt you?” The Jotun asks, still completely perplexed. “Doesn’t it cook your flesh, or burn your skin?”
Thor can’t help but give a little laugh at the thought. “We don’t boil it. It’s not like the water we use for cooking. But the heat helps with the cleaning and relaxes the muscles.”
The skeptical look on Loki’s face remains as Thor lifts his leg to step into the tub.
“Didn’t you just say you needed warm water for your bath?”
Thor sits down, the cool liquid closing around his body sending a wave of goosebumps over his skin. “I’ve spent decades on this planet, always washing up in a haste with a bucket of barely heated water. I think I can manage.”
“And judging by your reaction,” he adds, “I don’t want to upset your servants by asking them to heat it up for me.”
Thor takes the bar of soap that has been provided with the bath and begins to wash off the dirt and sweat. While he’s working he feels Loki’s gaze on him.
“Please don’t tell me your heat is acting up again,” Thor says, washing the soap and dirt off his skin.
“This is all a joke to you, isn’t it?” the mage spits. “Having me cower like a slave at your feet, a convenient abundance of holes to fulfill your every need, unable to refuse. You must be half-hard at the thought already.”
“Loki,” Thor starts, annoyed at the prospect of having to go over this again, especially when he’s just as much the victim as the Jotun.
Loki has risen from his place on the bed and slowly walks over to the tub.
“Oh, but master,” he continues in a mocking tone, eyes burning into Thor’s. “You don’t need to lie to your little slave. Here, let me help you.”
He thrusts his hand into the water before Thor can so much as blink, and grabs his balls and co*ck firmly, though not hard enough to hurt.
He’s now at eye level with Thor and leans in with a humorless smile. “You’d do best to remember that this,” Loki gives the genitals in his hand a little tug, still not enough to cause pain, “is all that you’re worth to me, Aesir. They might call you a prince, or my husband, or my mate. But to me you’re just a dick to sit on. And heir to the throne or not, I will find a way to get rid of you, and if it means having to cut it off.”
Thor blinks, not daring to move. He doesn’t think that Loki will actually squeeze his grip, but he doesn’t exactly want to risk finding out if he’s correct. There’s something curious in what the mage’s just said, though.
“I’m not the heir to the throne,” he breathes, hands gripping the edge of the tub hard.
Sharp fingernails press into the tender skin around his co*ck. “What?”
Thor licks his suddenly very dry lips. “I’m not the heir anymore. I renounced that title a long time ago.”
Red eyes narrow as they burn into his.
“I’m sorry, but you backed the wrong horse here. I have no title.”
“But you are Odin’s firstborn. You’re Asgard’s first general.”
“Like I said, I have renounced the title of crown prince half a century ago. I am not welcome in my father’s hall.”
“Do not lie to me, Aesir!”
“I’m not lying.”
The mage’s eyes stare into his, searching. After a few heartbeats, Thor feels brave enough to reach down into the water and close his own hand around Loki’s wrist.
The Jotun doesn’t budge at first, and for a second Thor fears that his genitals will feel the mage’s wrath after all. But then he tugs at the pale blue wrist ever so lightly, and the other’s hand lets go of him. Loki’s eyes stay fixed on his, though.
He considers Thor for a long moment.
“We sent word about your whereabouts to Asgard,” he says then, his voice sounding carefully neutral. “This morning we received an answer. A delegation from Asgard is on its way to come and retrieve you.”
Loki picks up a rug, wets it and strats washing down Thor’s back in slow movements. “It also said that the Allfather will be among them.”
Thor freezes, staring at the Jotun. “What?”
He hasn’t spoken to his father in years. The only form of communication between them has consisted of military reports and (in his father’s case) orders.
If the king of Asgard chooses to come and collect his estranged son from enemy territory, well…
“f*ck,” he mutters.
Loki’s hand stills for a moment, before continuing to wipe Thor’s back.
“How long has it been since you’ve last talked to your father?”
Thor frowns. “You mean aside from battle strategies? Two decades. Maybe three.”
Loki hums in contemplation.
Thor looks at him with a strange sensation forming in his gut. He’s still trying to fathom the idea that this strange creature sitting on the edge of the tub, bathing him, is now his, legitimated by some foreign law that he doesn’t understand.
He can’t quite wrap his mind around it.
And he isn’t exactly planning to just accept that. Judging by the death threats and barely restrained anger in the red eyes, the mage isn’t all too fond of this arrangement either. So maybe he’ll do them both a favor by undoing this mess.
“Maybe this turn of events is a lucky one for you, though,” he says carefully, leaning forward so Loki has better reach over his back.
“Oh?” the Jotun says, raising a brow. “An even better turn than becoming a slave to an Aesir?”
Thor has to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “How many times do I-... You know what? Nevermind.”
He clears his throat and continues. “What I meant to say was, that my father probably won’t accept our… bond. So I suppose you’ll be free of me after all.”
The Jotun laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “What makes you believe that the Allfather has the power to undo this magic if even Jotun mages can’t do it?”
“Why do you think that Asgardian sorcerers hold less power than your mages? They guard the biggest collection of knowledge in the known universe after all.”
“Knowledge that they stole,” Loki hisses, scrubbing a bit more forcefully at Thor’s lower back than necessary.
“Be that as it will,” Thor continues, taking the rug from him, bringing it up to his chest. “Don't you think that somewhere in this vast accumulation of knowledge might be the key to undoing this?”
Loki just stares at him.
“Think about it,” Thor says, washing the soap off his chest. “You could be free again.”
But this only seems to make the mage more angry.
“Do not speak to me about freedom, when it’s your father, your people, that hold this land, my land, prisoner. Bond or not, as long as Asgard thrives on the blood of the slain, I will never be free.”
Thor stops in his movements. “I-”
“Spare me,” Loki snaps, rising to his feet and fiddling with the fasteners of his tunic. “I don’t want to hear anything else from you.”
The fabric falls to the ground around his ankles with a soft thud, and before Thor can so much as raise his brows in surprise, the Jotun is stepping into the tub with him.
By now, Thor is familiar with the scent of arousal that comes with every new wave of heat. His own body reacts to it in a matter of seconds, so that when Loki sinks down to straddle his hips and reaches between Thor’s legs, he finds a co*ck waiting eagerly for him, already hard enough to sit upon.
It takes them a whole hour to finish. Normally Thor wouldn’t have any obligations against dragging out his lovemaking. He takes great pride in his skill.
But this senseless rutting hardly deserves the term “making love”. Nor does it involve any of his skills.
He’s not allowed to touch and has to restrain himself from doing so by gripping the edge of the tub again. And since the mage is determined to keep his own hands strictly placed on Thor’s shoulders, there really isn’t anything erotic about this at all.
If it weren’t for his own magic and the pheromones coming off the Jotun, his co*ck would’ve probably lost interest in the manic chafing within the first ten minutes.
The water is sloshing over the edge of the tub. The servants who come to take the tub will have to mop up quite a puddle.
Thor ponders on whether he should try and guide Loki through this again. The Jotun seems to actively ignore everything Thor has shown him over the few times they’ve been at this (at least those times that Thor’s been conscious).
But at this rate, they’ll still be here by the end of the day. Thor doesn’t feel anywhere near an org*sm, and if the grim look on Loki’s is any indication, he doesn’t either.
“Let me touch you,” he says quietly, fixing his eye on the Jotun’s face.
“No,” comes the breathless reply.
Thor stops the annoyance before it can worm itself into his words and instead calms his mind. “Then touch me.”
“What?“
Thor lets go of the tub’s edge and grips the pale blue wrists. Before the mage can protest, he places one of them just below his jaw, and the other a few inches above his abdomen.
“Touch me,“ he repeats, then grips the edge again.
His eye is met with a stare of confused anger, and for a moment he thinks that Loki will move his hands back to their original position just to be contrary.
Then he feels a thumb move over his beard, stroking a slow, careful line across his jaw.
A thought pops into his head - and right off his tongue. “Your people don’t grow much facial hair, do they?”
Or much hair at all, he muses, thinking about all the bald-headed, smooth-chested Jotonar he’s seen so far.
“No,” Loki says, though it’s more of a mumble. The anger’s still loud on his features, but something more scrutinizing has crept into it.
He brushes his hand through Thor’s beard and then scratches at where his hair is shorn short at his temple.
“A sign of dishonor,” Thor says, answering the unasked question on the other’s face. “Aesir take great pride in their long hair. I cut it off as a symbol of my loss of status.”
The red eyes stare into his.
“Did you let your hair grow out because you prefer it that way, or has this something to do with your status as mage?“
“Of what interest is this to you?“ Loki growls, letting his hand fall from Thor’s temple. “Is this a quiz, or a coupling?”
“The way this is going, it’s neither,” Thor sighs. He shifts a bit in the tub, drawing a hiss and a barely suppressed moan from the mage in his lap.
“Stop that,” Loki orders. His eyes are closed and his face is turned into a concentrated frown.
The look puts another idea into Thor’s head.
“Stop what?” he asks innocently. “This?” And he shifts again, bucking up his hips ever so lightly.
“Yesss,” the Jotun breathes, keeping his eyes shut tightly.
“Alright then,” Thor says, his voice now a low rumble. “I’ll try not to move.”
When he rocks his hips up again, Loki meets the movement with his own. Soon they’re moving together in a slow, delicious rhythm, meeting each other’s thrusts and rolling.
Thor lets his head fall back and watches how the mage’s hands wander aimlessly over his chest and sides. His touch is cool but not unpleasant, sending an electric chill down Thor’s spine and goosebumps over his skin.
Loki’s eyes are still closed, though the frown has faded somewhat. His soft pants fill the room - the only noise apart from the crackling of the fire.
When Thor feels his own climax slowly beginning to build up, he takes the Jotun’s co*ck in his hand. He expects Loki to protest and bat his hand away, but instead, he feels the other’s hand closing above his own, joining him in the gentle stroking movements.
After they’re both spent, the mage slumps forward against Thor’s chest and buries his face in Thor’s neck, breathing in deeply.
Thor falls completely still. He has no idea what to make of this sudden change in the Jotun’s behavior.
A moment passes.
“I will kill you for this, Aesir.” Loki’s voice is soft from where it mumbles at the crook of his neck, but he sounds determined nonetheless.
- - -
