Thor. In Agony. @thorgony-blog - Tumblr Blog

The Second Strongest Man in Asgard: Chapters 1 and 2

Title: The Second Strongest Man In Asgard Author: Th0rgony Fandom: Marvel Movie(s): The Avengers (2012) Thor (2011) Pairing: Thor/Loki, Thor/Sif Rating: NC-17 Warnings: non-con [trigger warning], incest, violence, torture, angst, darkness. Summary (General): Loki takes over Asgard and punishes Thor for both real and imagined sins. Summary (This chapter): Thor dreams of his brother and wakes into a different world. Later, he is forced by Loki to make a false confession. Disclaimer: Not my characters. All my fault. Notes: This is dark and gets much, much darker…but you have to break them down before you can build them back up.

Later, Loki would be gentle with him, squeezing and sucking and massaging him until he lost control of himself and buried his drooling face in the pillow, incoherently begging to be allowed to come. Later, Loki would take a cruel, obsessive pleasure in measuring every twitch and spasm of Thor’s growing desires, using that knowledge to drag him to the brink and back over and over again. Later, Loki would engage in a connoisseur-like study of every inch of Thor’s body, heart and soul; he would to savor Thor’s every grunt and gasp and cry and play him like an instrument, over and over again.

Later.

CHAPTER ONE

The first few weeks he spent in Asgard after the battle of New York were some of the sweetest of his life. Later, he wondered if he was being punished for that happiness, given all he had to forget in order to spend his days so blissfully: ignoring all those who were lost that day; drowning his sorrow over the lost Jane Foster in a blossoming romance with Sif; and, worst, closing his ears to the sound of his brother screaming in the dungeon.

He couldn’t actually hear Loki scream, of course. The muzzle took care of that. But when the night was at its quietest, he thought he could perceive a faint perturbation, a trembling in the air that he knew without explanation was the residue of his brother’s torment. And when he sensed that disturbance, did he rush down into the bowels of the castle, aflame with righteousness, and force the jailers to treat Loki with the respect that a prince – even a wretched, guilty, imprisoned prince like Loki – deserved? No, he did not. He shouted for the musicians to play their songs even louder and gulped down another tankard of ale.

Once, only once, he had ventured down into the cell where Loki was kept. It was not forbidden to do so – their father, Odin, spent hours down there, pleading with Loki to renounce his wicked ways. But Thor hated the dank smell of the corridors, the bone-chilling bite of the underground air, the moans and whispers of the prisoners who’d been locked away for so long that their minds had begun to molder away. Mostly, though, he’d loathed seeing his brother so pale and thin, curled in the corner of his cell, with his huge eyes glittering. Those eyes locked onto Thor as soon as Thor placed his hands on the bars of Loki’s cell, though whether they implored Thor for help or sparked with hatred or offered him forgiveness, Thor could not say.

He had gone back up into the daylight without saying a word to his brother.

The night before everything changed, Thor slept badly. The evening had started off well – a good dinner, followed by the usual boisterous revelry. He’d tried to convince Sif to accompany him back to his room, but she’d declined, citing an early morning hunt. To make it up to him, she’d spent nearly an hour in the hall, wrapped in his arms with her tongue halfway down his throat. He’d returned to his room and collapsed on his bed, his head spinning with wine and lust.

The dream that followed had seemed only like a nightmare, not a portent. He and Sif were lying together in the desert, like the one where he’d met Jane Foster so long ago. Overcome with desire, he’d rolled on top of her and mounted her from behind. She was loud about it – screaming and calling his name: “Oh, yes, Thor, please, Thor, God, yes.” The sound aroused him even more than the sight of her slim white flanks split open beneath him, and he was riding her hard when suddenly the sound of her voice changed. Resisting the tunnel vision of his approaching climax, he had flipped her over mid-thrust to see his brother’s face grinning up at him.

Despite the horror that the sight inspired, he was still incredibly aroused, too close to completion to pull himself away. His thighs kept thrusting uncontrollably as Loki cackled, raising his voice in teasing imitation of Sif: “Fuck me, oh yes, you like that, don’t you, brother. Fuck me harder, yes, that’s good.” When Thor finally came, shuddering and filled with shame, he collapsed on top of Loki, and his brother turned and whispered in his ear. “Soon, brother. Soon, we will be together.”

The next day, he woke up with a crushing headache, the sick aura of the dream still clinging to him. He knew only one cure for such an ailment: a long ride in the cool Asgardian air. He would have joined Sif’s hunt, but they had already left, hours ago, so he saddled up his horse and set off alone.

The sunny morning was gorgeously clear. Every flower on the mountainside seemed illuminated with its own inner brightness. On such a day, it was easy to leave behind thoughts of his brother, still trapped in a cage deep underground, easy to push down the memories that the dream of the night before had threatened to unsettle. He tethered his horse by a stream, ate a light lunch of crusty bread and soft, milky cheese, and drifted off into a sweetly dreamless sleep.

When he awoke, the world had changed.

It was hard to say, in those first few moments, what the difference was, and it became even harder after, when his memory of his life before seemed to exist only in some locked-away part of himself, buried too deep to ever truly remember. Suffice it to say that it was something about the light: a darkening, a draining of color, so that a shadow hung over his sight at noon on a cloud-free day. Perhaps, also, a change in sound: not of one sound in particular, but of the quality of sound itself; a permeating silence, as on those early mornings when the world was muffled by a thick blanket of snow. And finally, of course, there was the chill: the frosty bite of the air, despite the green grass and the sunshine; the fact that, on this sunny summer day, his breath billowed out before him in a soft puff of steam.

Feeling as though he had woken into a dream, Thor saddled up his horse and galloped back to the castle. On the entire ride, he saw no one and nothing that moved.

When he reached the city, he saw that it was empty.

There were no signs of violence. No corpses littered the street; no blood was sprayed upon the walls. It was though everyone alive had simply set aside what they were doing and gone into the other room for a moment.

“Hello!” he shouted. “Is anyone here? Hello?!”

No answer.

More bewildered than afraid, he wandered through the empty streets. This is a dream, he thought. What else could it be? He pinched his arm and felt the pain, then turned down another abandoned street.

A true hero, he later thought, would have arrived in the city and galloped immediately for the palace, determined to seize any chance, no matter how slim, to protect those he loved from disaster. But Thor, who in the days to come would have many opportunities to confront his own cowardice, wasted minute after precious minute circling the streets that wound around the castle, telling himself he was simply trying to figure out what had happened when, in fact, he was postponing the moment when he would have to face the true scope of the catastrophe.

It was a sound that finally drew him. The first sound, other than his own voice and footsteps and breath, that he had heard since he had awoken: A cry. The sound cut off abruptly, vanishing so completely that he could almost tell himself he hadn’t heard it.

Almost.

When he reached the castle’s entrance, he slid off out of his saddle and looked for a place to tie his horse, but the animal, usually impeccably behaved, galloped off into the empty streets and vanished, leaving him truly alone.

His feet heavy with dread, he climbed the stairs and entered the castle. When he pushed open the heavy door, no servants greeted him. No friends’ shouts echoed cheerfully in the air. The castle was as empty as the rest of the city, the country, the kingdom, the world.

Or was it?

At the end of the hallway, the high twin doors to the throne room stood slightly ajar, and in the crack between the two doors shone a thin ribbon of orange light. As Thor watched, a shadow flickered, staining the light, and then the shadow passed and the light glowed even brighter.

His hands outstretched in front of him, Thor moved toward the doorway. When he reached it, he stood with his palm pressed against the wooden panel, steeling himself against the sight of whatever was, or was not, within.

The door swung open.

They were all inside.

Not everyone, not the whole city, of course, but everyone that mattered – his father, his mother, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and hundreds of others, all gathered together in the cavernous room. He felt a stupid, relieved grin break out across his face. I thought you had all left me! he was about to say, laughing at his own silly fears. His smile lasted only a moment, though, evaporating in the chill of their pale, drawn faces, their crouched postures, their terrified expressions. He took another step into the room and straightened his shoulders, trying to resume the hero’s posture that he had temporarily let fall away.

“What is happening here?” Thor demanded, his voice echoing proudly off the high walls. “Why is the city empty? Where has everyone gone?” His hammer was at his belt and he took hold of it now, comforted by the feeling of its wrought handle in his hand. Somehow, he had almost forgotten it was there.

“Father! Tell me! Why are you all so silent? What is going on?”

Odin looked terrible, as though he had aged a hundred years. He did not answer his son, but instead lifted one trembling, crooked finger and pointed at the throne.

Hello, brother, a voice said.

Loki was casually sprawled across his adopted father’s throne, one leg swung up over the arm of the chair. He was wearing the same black clothes as he had been when he’d first been imprisoned, but he was free of the muzzle that had bound him.

“Loki!” he demanded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “What is this? What have you done?”

Loki waved one long-fingered hand casually about, gesturing to the room filled with his cowering supplicants. “What does it look like I’ve done?” he said. “I’ve taken over Asgard.”

The flip coyness with which his brother spoke enraged Thor. “No, you have not,” he informed Loki. “Our father is still the rightful king of Asgard, and I am his heir. I don’t know how you escaped the dungeon, but you gave up any right you had to rule when you betrayed us to the Frost Giants and entered into a pact with the Chitauri. Now get down off of that throne and stop making a fool of yourself before I come up there and take you off it.”

Loki turned his palms up as though surrendering to his brother.

“Oh, go ahead, Thor, please,” he said. “Come. Take me down.”

“I shall.”

Roaring, Thor wound up his arm and flung his hammer at Loki’s smirking face. The mighty weapon flew through the air, making a crackling, burning noise as it went. He put all his rage and fear and frustration into the throw -- in his whole life, Thor had never flung Mjolnir so hard. As it left his fist and he realized the power of the weapon that was hurtling towards Loki, Thor felt a quick twinge of regret. My God, he thought. I’ve killed him.

But with one quick, cat-like gesture, Loki reached up and snatched the hammer out of the air. Then he took the indestructible Mjolnir, forged in the furnace of the Gods, and snapped it casually in half over his leg.

The supplicants that were crowded into the room were too frightened to visibly react, but Thor could feel a huge wave of sorrow and disappointment come crashing over the room. Horrified, he glanced around at the people he was supposed to protect, but no one would meet his eye. Even his mother and his father stared at the ground.

Loki tossed the pieces of the broken hammer down the steps. They landed at Thor’s feet.

In a burst of shame and anger, Thor ran up the stairs and flung himself his brother. It was a foolish thing to do, but deep in his heart he felt it was better to die a hero than to live with the indignity of such a defeat. Loki did not stir as his brother approached. Thor stumbled a bit as he neared the throne, lurching forward with his fist outstretched. Just before the blow connected, however, Loki lifted his hand and made a little swatting gesture, as though he were brushing away a fly.

Wham! It was like being struck in the face with a slab of ice cold iron. Thor’s neck snapped back as he went flying through the air and landed, broken, against the far wall. His ears were ringing. All the air had been knocked from his lungs, and a thin trickle of blood dripped out of his nostrils. He felt as though his skull had cracked. Swaying, his vision blurry, he tried to drag himself to his knees.

Loki was towering over him, a huge black figure that shut out all the light. Dizzy and confused, he reached out his hand for his brother.

Instead of offering him aid, Loki grabbed Thor by the back of the neck and pulled him to his feet. Loki’s grip on Thor’s throat was like iron, robbing him of breath. Thor grappled against his brother’s fingers but could not pry them away. Roughly, Loki dragged Thor along, pushing him so that he was forced to stumble forward and then dumping him at the base of the throne.

Loki leaped over his brother and landed in the royal seat.

Thor’s stomach churned as he lurched to his feet. “No,” he said hoarsely, his throat raw and bruised from Loki’s grip. “I will not kneel to you.”

“Yes,” Loki answered cheerfully. “You will.” He gestured again and Thor felt a crushing cold weight come crashing down on his shoulders. He resisted it with all his strength, but in a matter of seconds, his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground. Once he was on his knees, the weight vanished. Stubbornly, he tried to stand again, but immediately, the weight returned and he was pressed back down to the floor. Thor stared up at his brother, his eyes burning with defiance.

“You will kneel before me because you must, as you will do everything else I command,” Loki told him. “But it bores me to have to keep forcing you like this. I’d prefer it if you obeyed me of your own free will.”

“Never,” Thor spat.

“Please do me the honor of letting me change your mind.”

Loki’s eyes glittered and Thor thought he felt the temperature in the air drop. Behind them, someone gasped. Still kneeling, Thor turned around and the unreal sight filled him with horror.

Sif was floating in mid-air, her long black hair drifting out behind her. Her arms and legs were flailing uselessly at whatever invisible hand it was that held her, but although her mouth was open in a wide, black o, she was terribly, utterly silent.

“No!” Thor cried in anguish. “Loki, she is innocent! She has nothing to do with this. Let her go!”

His brother ignored him. A terrible crumpling sound filled the silence as dark bruises spread out across Sif’s throat. Her eyes rolled back in her head. “No!” Thor called out in horror, flinging himself at Loki’s feet. He pressed his forehead against his brother’s black boots, imploring him for mercy. “I’ll do anything you say. Please, just let her go!”

Behind him, Sif thudded to the ground, but Thor did not dare turn around to discover whether or not his pleas had come too late.

“You understand now,” Loki said. “They are all my hostages. They survive only by my will. And so, they are in your hands, because as long as you obey me – immediately, without rebellion or complaint – I will suffer them to live. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Loki,” Thor whispered, his head bent in front of him. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Loki straightened himself in his throne, and ran his hands, preening, through his curly black hair. “You must be wondering,” he said, in a voice that self-consciously addressed not only Thor but the audience of hundreds that filled the giant throne room, “How it came to be that I defeated you so easily.”

“Yes, Loki,” Thor said dully, staring at the ground. He couldn’t get the nightmarish image of Sif out of his head, the way she had writhed in the air as though dangling from an invisible thread.

“Well, brother, as it happens, I have you to thank for that. You and the rest of my miserable adoptive family. It turned out that all I needed to find my full potential was a few months of quiet and reflection, far away from you – your distraction and your condescension and your judgment. I needed the chance to turn inward, to explore my potential and see myself as I truly am. Not as your pale shadow, your insignificant, disappointing little brother, but as I was meant to be—the most powerful god of the past ten thousand years!”

Loki’s voice echoed through the hall, and despite everything he had just seen, Thor had to make an effort to keep from rolling his eyes. Loki’d always had a grandiose streak. But Loki seemed to expect an answer, and so to forestall another tantrum, Thor said, “Yes, my brother. You are indeed powerful. More powerful than I had ever imagined.”

“Oh, I am powerful,” Loki purred. “Powerful beyond your wildest dreams. But during all those dark days locked away in my cell, I didn’t only have time to explore my powers. I had time to think about my past. I thought about what it was like growing up here, a sensitive, gentle child surrounded by smug warriors who thought of nothing and no one but themselves. I thought about all the times you and Sif and Fandral and the rest ignored me, excluded me from of your games, left me behind when you went off on your own to hunt and to drink and to fuck.”

Loki’s voice was spiraling upwards, and Thor, anxious to placate him, murmured, “We didn’t mean to exclude you, Loki. We only thought--” but Loki interrupted him, snarling fiercely. “Oh, I’m sure you did intend to leave me out. I never fit in with you and your friends. But as you well know, my handsome elder brother, the times you ignored me were nothing in comparison to the times you sought me out.”

Thor looked up at his brother. Loki’s face was white with rage.

“Loki,” Thor said. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do. You do.”

“Do you mean when I fought you in New York? I had no choice--”

“DO NOT MAKE ME CRUSH HER THROAT FOR GOOD!” Loki shrieked, leaping to his feet. Despite himself, Thor flinched away, startled by his brother’s fury.

“Tell them!” Loki hollered at his brother, his eyes flashing wildly. “Tell them what you did to me!”

Thor didn’t know what Loki meant. He truly did not. But the mad rage on Loki’s face made it clear that one wrong word could mean the death of all of them.

“I…” he began, searching his brother’s tortured expression for some clue. “I…”

Impatient, Loki whipped around to face the room, his cloak snapping in the air behind him. “Look at him!” he cried. “Your hero! Your son! Your golden boy! You all worship him, even now. You still believe he’ll come to your rescue. And yet when you hear – when he finally tells you – what he did – what he used to do--” Loki’s voice cracked. He grabbed hold of Thor by the scruff of his neck and lifted him to his feet, turning him out so he was facing the assembled crowd. Loki’s strength was truly astonishing – with one hand, he could hold his godlike brother up so high that his feet dangled off the ground.

“Tell them,” Loki said, his voice shaking. “Tell them how…after days of fighting and nights of celebration…your fingers rough and calloused – your skin scorching hot – your breath stinking of wine – you used to stumble into my room – drunk and wild – and demand that I comfort you. Tell them…about what you did to me, Thor. Tell them…Tell them everything.”

Thor stared at his brother in horrified dismay. On his life, he could swear that nothing like that had ever happened between them. The very thought of it filled him with disgust. If Loki truly believed what he was saying – and it seemed as though he did – then he was in the grip of some terrible madness. All those days and nights in the darkness and isolation must have driven him out of his mind. Sorrowfully, Thor shook his head. “No, Loki. I would never have hurt you like that. You were my brother…”

“You lie!” Loki screamed, and now Sif, who had been lying curled and motionless in the corner of the room, let out a moan, and her body began rising inexorably into the air. “Tell them! Tell them, or she dies! They’ll all die! Tell them!”

“Loki, please!” Thor begged. “Don’t do this!” But now the bruises were spreading across Sif’s throat again and he could see that she did not have much time, weak as she was. “All right,” he said, just to buy her a few more precious minutes. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell them.”

Loki turned avidly to Thor. “Good. Tell them all of it. Leave nothing out.”

“Yes. I…” His eyes flickered back and forth between Loki and the crowd before him. He knew was he had to do, but the words stuck in his throat. To say such a thing in front of his father, his mother, all of his friends – surely they he knew he was being forced to lie? They could not think he was capable of what, contrary to all truth and logic, he was about to confess.

“I used to come into your room at night,” he said slowly. “And I would…do things to you…against your will.”

“What things?” Loki snapped.

“I would…touch you. And I would make you…touch me.” Despite himself, he felt his mind racing back to all the nights when he and Loki had still lived as brothers under one roof. Was it possible there was any germ of truth lodged among this madness? Blackout drunk, could he ever have forced himself upon his brother? Sickened, he remembered the dream of the night before, Loki’s hips squirming beneath him. No, he told himself. You never would have done that. Don’t let yourself get drawn into Loki’s insanity.

Loki’s eyes were gleaming, but when Thor did not continue, he grew frustrated. “Go on. Tell them all of it. It wasn’t just touching.”

“I don’t--” he began, but he saw Loki’s fist clench, and his brother’s long nails dig into his palms. He knew he had to keep plunging forward. What had Loki feared or fantasized had happened between them? What would have happened if he’d ever laid his hands lustfully upon his brother? “I used to…make you…suck me.” He closed his eyes and dragged the words out, painfully. Grotesque as it was, he could not help picturing the lie. “And I’m sorry, but God help me, Loki. I would – I would--”

His heart was pounding and his face was flushed. He could not make himself say the word.

“You would fuck me. You would push open my door, rip off the covers, pull down my pants, and fuck me.” Loki’s eyes were huge and glittering in his pale face, and his tongue flickered out to the edges of his mouth as though he were tasting something sweet.

“Yes, Loki,” Thor said. He hung his head, overwhelmed by the shame of this false confession. “I fucked you.”

“There!” Loki crowed triumphantly. “There! At last, you’ve told the truth! Doesn’t that feel good?”

It did not feel good. It felt worse than anything had ever felt in his life, telling his family, his friends, and his future subjects all of these horrific lies. Please don’t think this of me, his eyes mutely pleaded. You know I didn’t have a choice.

“It feels good!” Loki crowed. “It feels wonderful! Because, my brother, what I always felt – and what I know, deep in my heart, you feel too – is that what was so painful about what went on between us was not the sex – although, I can’t lie, that hurt occasionally too – but what would happen after. The way that we were forced to pretend it had never happened. Forced by society and by convention and by the laws that bound us to pretend that the physical connection between us didn’t exist. That we were only, merely, brothers. You see, that’s what I realized when I was deep in the dungeon, Thor. All those years, when I felt so abandoned by you…the way you would come to me in the night and beg me to pleasure you, only to look right through me once the sun came up the next day…what I finally realized was that you thought you didn’t have a choice. You would never have been allowed to inherit the throne if our parents had realized we were fucking. So you had to keep it a secret from them. From everyone.”

In the crowd below, Thor could see his mother weeping, and his father reach out to comfort her. What a nightmare they were being forced to endure! He wondered how long it would take before they began to doubt him.

In a creepily parental gesture, Loki set Thor down and laid his hand gently on his head. “It was cowardly of you, brother,” he said softly. “To betray me like that, out of your own lust for power. You should have told the truth, no matter what the cost. I would have fought by your side. We could have reined together, you and I, as lovers and equals, the way we were meant to be. But you’ve lost that chance. I rule Asgard now, and I will never be able to forget your weakness. You will be a servant to me, nothing more. But at least we will not have to hide ourselves from the world.”

Thor felt himself grow dizzy. He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion away. “No, Loki, I don’t understand. I confessed. I apologized to you. I’ll never do that again, I swear. It’s over.”

“But it is not over,” Loki said. “It has only just begun.”

CHAPTER TWO

The world swam. Thor was on his knees again. In front of him, close, too close, was Loki, Loki’s long dark legs and his pale face hanging like a full moon overhead. Loki’s spider-like hands were working busily at his waist, loosening and unbuckling, and then – no. It couldn’t be. Thor squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away.

He felt Loki’s fingers softly caress his hair, his words equally poisonous and gentle. “I know this isn’t what you’re used to,” Loki murmured. “But things are different between us. You have to understand that. I’m the king of Asgard now. And you, what are you? You are nothing, except what I allow you to be. It would not be fitting for you to be the dominant one.”

Thor felt a warm knob of flesh nudging at the edges of his lips and his stomach began to churn. No, he thought. No, I won’t do this. I’d rather die.

Loki’s hand slipped down and cupped Thor’s clenched jaw, massaging the side of his brother’s face with his thumb. “You have to let it go, my brother,” Loki said. “Let go of your shame, your stubbornness, your foolish pride. Let go of your need to be a hero, and accept this. You are bound to obey me. You have no choice – you’ve already admitted that. This is how you shall serve.”

Through gritted teeth, Thor groaned in shame and agony. Even knowing that his family’s lives hung in the balance, at the very last minute, he tried to run. But Loki was standing above him, all-powerful, and forced him brutally back down.

“No,” Loki said, his voice much softer than his blows. “No, no. None of that. I don’t want to make you suffer. I love you, you know that. And, deep in your heart, you love me too. This is your chance to show them, Thor.

“Show them how much you love me.”

Loki dug his fingers firmly into his brother’s cheek and at last, Thor’s lips parted. He tried to close his eyes again, but Loki shook his head and Thor realized such an easy escape would not be permitted him. Slowly, gently, Loki nudged his cock between Thor’s lips. Thor opened his mouth wider to accommodate his brother, gagging at the powerful, unfamiliar smell and the strange sensation of weight upon his tongue. He had received hundreds of such ministrations, but never given one, and he was shocked to discover how difficult it was, how physically demanding. His cheeks were hot with shame and his mouth was dry and his gag reflex kept threatening to rebel. Hating the knowledge of how he must look, but even more desperately wishing his ordeal to be over, Thor jerked his head awkwardly and did his best to suck.

Luckily for Thor, it was the sight of his brother on his knees, rather than any particular skill with his mouth, which was bringing Loki rapidly to climax. Loki generously allowed Thor to set the pace for a minute or two, and then, unable to contain himself any longer, he rammed himself deep into Thor’s mouth. Thor coughed and choked and his arms flailed for purchase but Loki didn’t need long. Three long, deep thrusts into Thor’s spasming throat and Loki was coming harder than he ever had in his life. Thor tried to twist his head away as the salt stench of his brother’s semen rose into his nostrils, but Loki pinned him down. He pulled Thor up hard against his crotch and emptied himself into Thor’s mouth.

Loki held on until his brother had stopped struggling. Only when all the strength had gone out of Thor and he hung limply in Loki’s grasp did Loki slide his slick, limp member from between Thor’s swollen lips. Thor coughed weakly and made as if to spit. Firmly, Loki nudged his brother’s mouth closed with his finger, tilting Thor’s flushed face up so that Thor could look him in the eyes.

Loki shook his head.

Thor gazed up into his brother’s face. Finding no mercy there, and knowing what he was expected to do, he swallowed, choking the foul stuff down. Loki smiled and patted Thor’s head. Then, he wiped his cock on his brother’s face, one swipe on each golden-stubbled cheek.

Thor collapsed, hiding his face in his hands.

Worse than the powerlessness and pain and the indignity of it, worse than the taste of his brother’s spunk in his mouth, was the memory that had surfaced at the darkest point of the ordeal, as Loki was pounding his cock hard against the back of his throat. It was only a half-formed memory, a flash that had vanished almost immediately into the dark, but its message was unmistakable. It hadn’t happened the way that Loki described it – his brother was out of his mind, without a doubt – but there was something at the root of his insanity. Once, only once, a long time ago, Thor had taken advantage of his brother.

Which meant, in a twisted way, that this was all his fault.

Thor didn’t know how much time had passed before he felt himself being hoisted up by his belt and dragged along the ground. He assumed that he was on his way to being thrown in the dungeon, and in his misery he craved the darkness and seclusion.

But that wasn’t it at all. After only a few seconds, Thor was thrown down that sprawled on his stomach, dangling headfirst over the edge of the steps that led down from the throne. He opened his eyes, groaning, and saw the hall still full of miserable Asgardians, all of whom had been forced to witness his humiliation. Thank God, he couldn’t see his parents – he prayed that they had found some way to shield themselves from that terrible sight. He was still reliving his earlier agony when he saw that the people nearest to him had begun to avert their eyes.

Two rough kicks split his legs apart, and then someone grabbed his waist and yanked him back abruptly, so that he had to splay his hands out awkwardly to keep himself from falling. Loki, of course it was Loki, who was sliding his hand under Thor’s tunic, fondling the thick slabs of muscle that ribbed the god’s torso and tweaking his nipple in a rough yet bizarrely playful gesture.

“No, Loki,” Thor said, instinctively squirming away. “Stop it. That’s enough.” Despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t quite keep the note of command out of his voice. He’d spent a lifetime ordering Loki around, and it was a hard habit to break.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough,” Loki hissed, slapping his brother lightly across the face.

Deliberately, so that Thor could have no doubt as to his intentions, Loki placed his hands on the sides of his brother’s hips and lifted, forcing Thor to bend forward and down onto his elbows; his chest dangling over the steps, his knees on the landing, his ass in the air.

Thor knew what was happening, but he couldn’t quite believe it. Not when Loki took hold of the fabric of his leggings and tore them open with a single, violent rip. Not when he felt the cool air on his bare buttocks, followed by Loki’s hot breath between his legs. Not when he shivered the invasion of Loki’s probing finger trailing down his exposed crack, and the slick, unnerving sensation of Thor’s quicksilver tongue. He didn’t even believe it when Loki reached around and stuck his finger in Thor’s mouth, giving it to him to suck, and then, when the finger was suitably moistened, began easing it into Thor’s tight virgin hole.

Thor was looking out over all those people, the ones he had been destined to rule, and he realized that even though most of them had closed their eyes or were looking decorously away, others were staring at him with horror or curiosity or undisguised lust. They couldn’t believe that that they were about to see him, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and most powerful of the Avengers, get fucked in the ass by his brother, in front of the throne that was once meant to be his. And neither could he.

He couldn’t believe it.

But it was true.

Later, Loki would be gentle with him, squeezing and sucking and massaging him until he lost control of himself and buried his drooling face in the pillow, incoherently begging to be allowed to come. Later, Loki would take a cruel, obsessive pleasure in measuring every twitch and spasm of Thor’s growing desires, using that knowledge to drag him to the brink and back over and over again. Later, Loki would engage in a connoisseur-like study of every inch of Thor’s body, heart and soul; he would to savor Thor’s every grunt and gasp and cry and play him like an instrument, over and over again.

Later.

Now, though, in this instant, maddened by the sight of Thor sprawled out so vulnerable and helpless beneath him, Loki can spare no thought for his brother’s pleasure. His lips curl back over his teeth like dog about to tear into a cornered deer. His cock is fully recovered from his recent activity, already throbbing and rock-hard. This time, he might not come as quickly as he did before, but that’s his unfortunate brother’s problem, not his. Savoring these last few seconds of anticipation, Loki places each of his hands on Thor’s rounded, muscular buttocks and carefully spreads them apart. Despite the perfunctory fingering he gave Thor before lust completely overcame him, he knows his brother is not ready. That knowledge produces a brief burst of guilt that does nothing at all to slow him down.

“I am the King of Asgard!” he cries out to the hall, knowing that he is being ridiculous but at the same time overcome by the truth of it, the glory of what it means to be king.

Without warning, he plunges himself into Thor.

Loki didn’t know that anyone, man or immortal, could scream so loud. Thor’s cry echoes off the four walls of the throne room as his former subjects cower and cover their ears. But God, it feels so good, that tight, flawless ass crushing Loki’s cock like a vise, and all of Thor’s frantic bucking only heightens Loki’s pleasure. After hardly a minute, Thor’s whole body is slick and slippery with sweat. He is panting and gasping and making strange gurgling noises deep in his throat; he is desperate to free himself from the rod on which he’s been impaled. But Loki rides him effortlessly, grateful for his new strength, and although Loki is eager to come again, he decides to extend his pleasure, and his brother’s torment, just a little longer.

Loki leans forward, shoving himself in even deeper, and Thor groans. Bending down, Loki takes hold of Thor’s hair, dragging Thor’s limp, exhausted head up so that he can look out at the crowd below. Loki does not pause in his thrusting, and he can feel Thor’s hard warrior’s body jerking and shaking with each beat of the rhythm that he sets. Yes, he is the true King of Asgard now.

“Look, brother,” Loki whispers in his brother’s ear. “Look at them. See how they see you, finally, for what you are. Not a hero, but only an empty vessel for me to fill. In the days to come, I will train you well in how to pleasure me, but this is your first and truest lesson: that you breathe and weep and suck and kneel and beg and come entirely at my will. In front of all these witnesses, I have claimed you. You are my whore, my slut, my concubine, my slave. You are mine. All mine. Forever.”

Loki takes Thor’s cock in his hand. It is at half-mast already, and Loki gives it a meaningful squeeze. It crosses his mind to bring Thor to climax, but Loki decides to spare his brother that final humiliation. After all, there will be time enough for that in the days and weeks and months and years to come.

Besides, Loki is already close to his edge and ready for release. He drops his whole weight on top of Thor and jackhammers his brother mercilessly. Thor’s eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a babbling cry. Loki drives his fingers into his brother’s open mouth, loving the way Thor’s tongue slides frantically beneath his hand. “It’s almost over,” he whispers soothingly as he jams his hand farther down Thor’s throat. “I’m almost done.” Thor groans wordlessly and tries to twist his head away.

When Loki knows he has only seconds of self-control left in him, he slides himself all the way out of his brother. Thor’s ass spasms and then clamps shut and his eyes widen with relief. Loki sees that his brother is so inexperienced that he doesn’t even realize that the ordeal isn’t yet over, and he feels another wave of sympathy for Thor. Loki abandons his earlier, crueler plan and decides to take it easy on his brother. He pulls Thor up and flips him over onto his back. Thor stares up at Loki and he sees that Loki’s cock is still huge, dripping and erect. A miserable look crosses his face, and he moans pitifully.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Loki says, his voice kind, as he spreads his brother’s legs apart and eases himself into Thor again. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he murmurs. He gives his gasping brother one last, deep, powerful thrust before leaning in and kissing him tenderly on the cheek. Just before Loki surrenders himself completely to orgasm, he whispers one last bit of comfort into Thor’s ear: “Don’t worry,” he says.

“You’ll get used to it.”

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Thor. In Agony.