relocated

“Plans change, as you’ve no doubt discovered. I’ve decided to leave with you.”

After a brief conversation about security codes and the fate of Asgard (Loki offers up the first, pretends not to be bothered about the second), and a lovely opportunity to stare at Banner unnervingly, the three of them head into the city, back toward the Grandmaster’s less than humble abode. It’s teeming with both fans of the Hulk and fans of just general partying in the streets—but also with guards, and Loki knows better than to let himself be seen with Thor and Banner like this. He’s already worn out his welcome with the Grandmaster already, and he’d rather avoid the melt-stick if at all possible.

It’s easy enough to avoid the Grandmaster’s lackeys’ gaze for a little while, but Banner is a jumpy little accident waiting to happen, and Thor is making an ass of himself with a scarf tied around his head, looking conspicuous (and ridiculous), and it was only a matter of time before someone spotted them. Luckily, they aren’t left to just Thor and Banner’s best attempts at anonymity.

But just as Loki begins to cast an illusion over the three of them (an old favorite—Thor just as he is but in a dress never gets old, especially when Loki himself gets to be a pretty handmaiden next to him for purposes of contrast), Thor steps into his space, says, “We’ve been seen—play along,” and kisses him.

It takes a moment or two for this to register, naturally.

Nothing changes once it does, however. Loki is still frozen.

“I said play along,” Thor repeats against his lips, his hands winding around Loki’s waist, and it isn’t until Banner glances over at them and lets out a disgusted exclamation that Loki finally responds as best he can. Which isn’t very good, admittedly. He’s wanted this long enough that it’s difficult to keep from shoving his tongue down his brother’s throat, so he errs on the side of caution and probably makes for a very stiff and uninterested kissee.

(Uninterested? Sadly, no. Stiff? … Getting there.)

“Oh god,” Banner groans, distraught. “Oh god, oh god, what the hell…”

It lasts probably… six, seven seconds, if that, but Loki would also swear that it’s been years when Thor pulls away and checks to make sure the coast is clear. They move on, and if it weren’t for the tingle in Loki’s lips or the lingering taste of his brother’s upon them, he might have chalked it up to an absurd daydream. Thor himself acts as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened, leading them down an alley to a less crowded side street while Loki follows, barely paying attention to where his feet are taking him.

“Thor, what the hell,” Banner hisses once they’re out of the crush of reveling Sakaarians.

“The guards were looking at us.”

“But you kissed him!”

“It was a distraction,” Thor protests. If he catches Loki’s eye when he says this, it’s only for a millisecond.

“But you kissed! Him! You gotta kiss somebody to hide us, yeah, okay sure, but you pick Loki?”

“Would you rather I had kissed you?”

To his credit, Banner doesn’t even splutter a bit. He just half-shouts back, “It woulda been less weird! He’s your brother!”

He continues, muttering to himself (something about what kinda messed up family), but his outburst has caught one person’s attention, and Loki finally drags himself out of his stupor when he sees Scrapper 142—no, the Valkyrie—approaching. He’ll need his guard up after the last less than pleasant conversation they’d had, and she’ll no doubt appreciate an explanation of how he slipped his chains and escaped her quarters.

But in the end, he takes little notice of her glare, or of Banner’s ongoing grumblings. Once a decision has been reached, Thor falls into step beside him as they continue on, and the constant looks his brother keeps darting at him while they walk are far more intriguing.

It’s mostly dark by the time they hit the trail, though there’s a faint light on the horizon growing ever brighter. Thor’s picked an easy hike, a loop around one of the lakes, and though Loki put in his fair share of complaining (and then some) in the car on the way here (and then a little snoring against the window, but Thor knows better than to mention it), he’s quiet once they get moving. He stays a few yards behind, keeping up but never walking ahead, and Thor wonders if he’s feeling as apprehensive about going home tomorrow as he is himself. It’s been a whirlwind of a week, just the two of them out on their own, not worrying about anything back home or checking their phones, and returning to reality isn’t something Thor is prepared for.

He can’t help that, though. And there’s a lovely glow on the mountains, glinting on the little patches of snow, and the occasional mule deer off in the trees, so he might as well enjoy the day while he can. It’s easier said than done, however, and after a few minutes, he winds up watching where his feet are going more than anything, lost in thought about all the things he needs to do once they’re home.

A little over three miles later, close to the end of their hike, Loki stops. Thor is preoccupied enough that he misses it entirely, until Loki calls after him.

“Thor, look,” he says, pointing out over the lake.

The sun has come up while he wasn’t paying attention, painting the mountains in shades of pink and turning all the treetops to greenish-gold. The view is stunning, and doubly so when he sees it reflected back up in the surface of the water, but the look on Loki’s face is what holds his attention once he glances back at him.

“Beautiful,” Loki says almost to himself, taking it all in. It’s in stark contrast to his usual complaints and begrudging admissions to having fun… Thor knows him better than to take all of that at face value, but to hear this sort of thing from him is certainly surprising.

Loki seems to realize his slip then, and looks back at Thor quickly. Before he can say anything else, though, Thor gives him a smile and says, “Yes, you are.”

As expected, Loki rolls his eyes and lets out a groan. But he’s grinning as well by the time Thor steps into his space, cups his cheek in one hand, and kisses him. It’s soft and slow and lingering, and over far too soon.

“The trailhead is just half a mile more,” Thor says when they part. “Are you ready to get back to civilization and cell service?”

It hadn’t been awful, Thor can admit. He’s come out of sparring sessions worse off before, but those had always been good fights amongst friends, and he’d left them feeling exhilarated and satisfied. This one had been decidedly less friendly, and whatever aches and bruises he carries now are nothing compared to the ones he’d inflicted.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Loki tells him, stepping closer, and Thor scoffs.

“Did I not? Was I supposed to let it stand?”

“You could have let me handle it. I would have sorted it out just fine on my own.”

“Unlikely.”

Thor knows that Loki would have repaid their mocking harsher than even he had, and probably in a way that would only have caused further grumbling about his seidr-wielding. No, this was for the best. He may not be king, but the einherjar look to Thor as an example and a leader, and if he has to call out five of them at once for insulting a prince of Asgard to teach them all a lesson about what he will and won’t tolerate regarding his little brother, then so be it.

Loki leans in over his shoulder then and takes a long look at the damage done by their training staves, and Thor does his best to keep his breathing even with Loki’s eyes on him. He’s had decades of practice in keeping this attraction to himself, but he still finds it difficult not to let on how it affects him, especially with Loki this close.

“At least allow me to make it up to you, brother.”

The fact that Thor has often imagined Loki saying those exact words under much different circumstances doesn’t make this any easier.

It also doesn’t stop him from recklessly asking, “And how do you plan to do that?”

In his fantasies, Loki usually answers with one of those little smirks that he loves and hates so much, but here in reality, he’s only given a contrite look before Loki moves to kneel at the edge of the bath behind him.

“Sit up,” he says, prodding at Thor’s shoulders, and it takes a long, tense moment before Thor can convince himself to do so. But despite the many and varied suggestions his overactive imagination provides on what could happen next, Loki only mutters one of their mother’s words of healing and begins to work on the bruises he finds on Thor’s back.

Thor silently berates himself for thinking such things of his little brother for the thousandth time, and resolves to do better.

When Loki pulls him back against the edge and starts in on his chest, however, reaching over his shoulders and applying a little more pressure with those clever fingers, he knows it’s a losing battle.

Loki is quiet and methodical while he works, taking his time and slowly driving Thor mad. There is an easier way to do this, he’s sure, than with Loki nearly pressed against his back, his hair tickling Thor’s ears when he leans forward to check his progress, and Thor both wishes he’d suggested it several minutes ago and hopes that this will never end. Loki’s sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and the sight of his long, slender hands on his skin is harder and harder to ignore… along with the fact that the water isn’t quite sudsy enough to hide his lap and the problem rapidly developing there.

A less than gentle press into one of the bruises at his ribs has Thor hissing, then, and Loki says, “Sorry,” softly in his ear—but then he moves lower still, down Thor’s stomach, and Thor finds that he suddenly can’t breathe at all and would much rather Loki jab him somewhere that hurts again. But just when he reaches past Thor’s navel, skimming the trail of hair there, and Thor thinks his heart may stop altogether, Loki leans back again, dragging his wet fingertips up as he goes and settling just below Thor’s collarbones.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Thor gives him a noncommittal hmm, not trusting his voice.

“Perhaps I’ve missed a spot.”

Without waiting for an answer, Loki begins again, kneading at the swell of Thor’s chest in a way that makes it nearly impossible for him to stay silent. He does shift in his seat, gripping the stone beneath the water and trying to slip a little lower to hide his arousal, but if Loki notices, he says nothing. He must have some idea of how he’s affecting Thor—how could he miss the way his heart is hammering with his hands just there?—but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t back away slowly or run for that matter, and the uncertainty and the thrill and the terror are wreaking as much havoc on Thor’s control as the physical aspect of this whole impossible situation.

Loki brushes over a nipple then, and Thor can’t bite back a whimper in time.

He’s doomed himself. He knows it. Loki will stand up, shout at him for sitting there and enjoying this like the filthy wretch he is, or worse, walk away without a word and never speak to him again. But for some reason, Loki doesn’t even pause, and while Thor is still trying to make sense of it, it happens again, both sides at once, and there’s no way in hel it could have been accidental. He also notices that there is no subtle warmth or tingle of seidr anymore. When Loki stopped his healing, Thor has no idea.

This is a test of some sort, he thinks desperately. It must be. Loki’s hands are still on him, not just soothing now but actively cupping and groping and teasing, and if it is a test, Thor is failing it miserably. The tip of his cock is peeking up out of the water now, undeniable and obvious, twitching every time Loki catches—fuck, did Loki really just pinch him?

Loki is closer to him now, almost pressed against his back. Thor can feel his breath on his cheek, his hair brushing the side of his neck. They’ve crossed a line, a very significant line, and Thor doesn’t know where the next lies or if he should even worry about it… perhaps he hadn’t beaten those einherjar so soundly as he’d thought, and he’s lying in the dust on the practice yard, about to wake up any moment. But then one of Loki’s hands is gone—and back, under Thor’s arm and reaching lower, and he whispers in Thor’s ear, voice hoarse and low, “Would you like me to stop?”

No, Thor thinks, and yes… but mostly no. He says nothing however, too stunned to speak, until Loki pinches him again and draws a broken little moan out of him.

“Tell me to stop, brother,” he insists.

“Don’t stop,” Thor finally begs.

In half a second, Loki is on him as though he’s starved for it, wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking him with firm, steady strokes, mouthing at his ear and his neck and shoulder, and only ceasing his attentions to Thor’s chest in order to reach across and pay the other side the same attention. Thor doesn’t recall moving, but one moment he’s clutching at the stone bench beneath the water, and the next, he’s got ahold of Loki’s forearm with one hand and is reaching back with the other, desperately grasping at his shoulder or back or whatever he can reach while he holds on for dear life.

It does not take long, and perhaps Thor would be a little more conscious of that fact if he were more certain that this was really happening. He comes with his brother’s name on his lips, though, fingers fisted in his tunic and thrusting into his hand and sloshing water over the edges of the bath, and Loki strokes him through it, muttering filthy encouragement in his ear all the while… yes, brother, and go on, let me see it, come for me, brother. (Completely unnecessary but appreciated all the same.)

Thor doesn’t wait until he’s caught his breath to move. He can feel the tension and the arousal practically radiating from his brother while he pants into Thor’s neck, still pawing at him, so Thor gets an arm around him and tugs, dragging him down into the water as well. It’s a clear indication of just how desperate Loki is that he doesn’t complain about the state of his clothes; he only climbs into Thor’s lap and looks at him, wide-eyed and hungry, and Thor can’t help but kiss him.

He’s also pondered extensively what that might be like, kissing his little brother for the first time, and most days, he might imagine it would be something quick and sweet and soft… something that would surprise Loki and set them up for a more passionate follow up once it registers. In reality, though, he skips the chaste introductory kiss, because Loki plasters himself to Thor’s chest and groans into his mouth immediately. He has no problem with this.

Just after he undoes Loki’s pants and just before he reaches into them, he pauses, pulling away to look his brother in the face.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, smiling, just to watch Loki squirm. It’s only fair.

“Norns, I should have learned by now,” Loki grumbles to himself, conjuring up a protective shield at the mouth of the cave they’ve taken shelter in.

“What’s that?”

Thor is further in, sorting out their bedrolls and building a fire, though Loki isn’t sure he should trust him with that much either, not after he’d gotten them into this mess in the first place.

“Nothing,” he calls back, then, “and be quiet—I need to concentrate.”

“Let’s go to Svartalfheim,” Thor had said yesterday, from the relative comfort of a dark, cramped little closet back at the palace. “They say there’s a storm raging there that’s gone on for millennia.”

Loki had not asked why in the Nine they’d want to go get caught in the middle of it; he didn’t need to. Thor’s recent acquisition of a certain new toy (how Thor hated when he called Mjolnir that) had, of course, led to him wanting to use it (play with it) as much as possible, and this was just the sort of thing he would come up with. Defeating a storm. Honestly, sometimes Loki wonders what he even sees in his brother.

Thor had then slipped into the floor and undone Loki’s trousers, though, so Loki hadn’t gotten around to his argument that there were safer and less moronic ways to test out one’s capabilities than trying to stop a legendary storm older than oneself, ways that were less likely to end poorly. Not then at least. He’d finally gotten to it about ten minutes ago, when they had first caught sight of the storm across the barren plain, but then Thor had gone and done something foolish before he could finish convincing him and somehow managed to further intensify the storm instead, and now here they are. If it hadn’t been for Loki’s quick thinking, they might have both been blown away.

“Look, I know you’re unhappy with me,” Thor says then.

“Understatement.”

“I thought I could manage it.”

Obviously. “Don’t worry, brother,” he’d said right before lifting his hammer high. Loki had still worried. With good reason.

“Well, perhaps next time you’ll listen to me.”

He throws a glare over his shoulder, just to further drive the point home, and Thor offers up an apologetic little smile. It isn’t cute in the least.

“Not at all,” Loki mutters under his breath, and goes back to his shielding. He even gets a few minutes of blessed silence before Thor speaks up again, sounding closer.

“But perhaps it isn’t all bad?”

Loki scoffs, and doesn’t bother to turn around.

“It’s given me this opportunity, after all.”

“Opportunity to make an ass of yourse—,” Loki begins, though he doesn’t get to finish. It’s rather hard to speak when Thor ducks into his space and catches his lips, though he does let out an unimpressed little huff before he gives in and kisses back. After all, they never have much time to themselves at home, and it would be a shame to waste a good kiss for the sake of being grouchy. He can do that later.

“You must have known this would happen eventually,” Loki adds when he can’t think of a reply, but that isn’t true, not really. He’s noticed the lingering looks and knowing smirks and every little infuriating come-hither gesture Loki has made in his direction since his most recent change of shape. He doesn’t see how he possibly could have ignored them. But assuming a thing will happen is not the same as hoping it will, after all.

Even less so when that hope keeps him up at night, wanting and aching and hating himself for it all over again. And that reminder is all he needs to find his voice.

“Loki, stop this,” he forces himself to say. He thinks of standing and dumping his little brother in the floor, but dismisses it just as quickly. He could push him away, perhaps… but then he lifts his hands and finds that he doesn’t know where he could put them that wouldn’t deal his self control a serious blow.

“Why? You don’t really want me to stop. I don’t really want me to stop.”

Shoulders should be safe, he decides, but then Loki snakes his arms around his neck before he can get ahold of him, and he’s left awkwardly clutching at Loki’s back instead.

“Told you,” Loki says with a little grin.

How easy it would be to let him win, Thor thinks… but no, this can’t go on. He’s made that mistake before, and he can’t let it happen again. This is his second chance, an opportunity to do right by his brother. It’s not as though he thinks that he was responsible for Loki’s original fall from grace (not entirely), but he’d rather not put that to the test.

“Regardless of what either of us want,” he says, knowing there’s no use in hiding it, “we cannot. You are much too young, for one thing—”

“Too young? I may have been before, but not any longer, as you’ve certainly noticed.” Loki shifts in his lap, resettling his weight as though to prove his point, and Thor bites hard on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from how perfect he feels there. “And we aren’t even considering my centuries worth of memories—uncertain as some of them may be. But this I am certain of. Certain enough for the both of us.”

Loki presses even closer then, and the hard line of his arousal against Thor’s stomach is impossible to ignore. He knows he’ll soon be in a similar state if he has to endure any more of this, but Loki is already wearing down his resolve, especially when he leans in practically close enough to taste, his breath warm and lips ghosting over Thor’s.

“I may have learned to be good these days, brother, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to be bad.”

Loki’s hand slips between them then, clever fingers light against Thor’s chest. Thor can hardly breathe as they slip lower… but then a detour, and suddenly Loki has his arm, then his hand, guiding it around his side and down and—

“Hel,” Thor grates out once his hand is pressed against Loki’s cock through his trousers.

“Worse,” Loki says, still grinning, and kisses him.