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by astolat

Loki had imagined the pleasure of this moment a thousand times: the throne his, Asgard his, the Aesir at his feet and his brother kneeling before him. But even so he'd somehow never imagined the final piece—too impossible, perhaps?—until all the rest had fallen into place, and he heard himself lean forward and say to Thor softly, "And now, you're going to suck my cock."

At once the perfection of it came utterly clear in his mind. Loki sat back on the throne and flicked a hand to dismiss the watching crowd; he didn't mean to share this with anyone. He watched Thor's impassive expression while the assembled nobles filed out of the court, Thor's mouth stern and angry and unsurprised; but after all he'd taken the oath, and he must have known. He'd probably known even before Loki had.

And then they were all gone; the throne room was empty, and there were thunderclouds massed overhead darkening the windows, and Thor's hands on his thighs, tension swelling out the veins on the back of those beautifully muscled arms as he bent down. Thor's mouth was almost unbearably hot around him, throat working, the long golden hair spilling forward—except he couldn't see Thor's face anymore; he couldn't watch. Loki tangled his hand into Thor's hair and tugged him back and off, and ah, his cock sliding wet and gleaming out between Thor's lips.

"Climb up," he said, struggling for breath, to keep mastery of himself. He could hardly believe that this could happen, would happen. But Thor was standing and unbuckling his belt, stripping himself naked, and then he was kneeling on the throne, legs on either side of Loki's, and easing himself down.

"Oh," Loki said, dreamily, and curled his hand around Thor's cock—rising hard in his grip, perfect, and Thor made the first noise, low and choked-off, resentful, as though he'd been prepared for the rest, for being used so, but not for pleasure of his own. Loki smiled up at him, was delighted to see the banked fury in Thor's eyes and the clench in his jaw. Deliberately Loki put the nails of his other hand against the tender underside of Thor's thigh and scratched: hard enough to hurt, and his hips subtly angled upwards while he tightened his grip, and he startled a brief glassy sheen over Thor's eyes.

"Just so, brother?" Loki murmured, and thrust again; when Thor would have answered, he pinched down between two nails, and then stroked ice over the bruised place with the tip of one finger.

"Loki, damn you," Thor said fervently; his cock was iron-hard by now, and his hand was clenched on the top of the throne to keep his balance while his hips jerked him on deeper. "Is there nothing you won't—oh—"

"No," Loki said, joyfully. "No, of course there isn't. Would you really want there to be?"

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