AGH THE POSSIBILITIES. Hmm how about… frottage, up against a wall, still mostly clothed?
[I’ve been developing a bit of a Thing for frot lately. It’s entirely this fandom’s fault. Om nom, desperate quickies.
…oops I got feelings in my porn.]
“We do not have time for this,” Loki hisses, without any real bite to the words, trying and failing to break Thor’s grip on his wrists. (Thor does not understand why he bothers. Loki sees no need to tell him.) ”The ceremony is about to start, and you know how Father hates it when we’re late.”
Thor grinds into him, pressing their hips together, pressing him into the pillar at his back. They hide in the shadow thrown out behind it, with the help of Loki’s concealments, conjured quickly when Thor caught him and threw him against it. ”If you had not made me chase you, brother, we would have time,” he chuckles into the hollow behind Loki’s jaw. ”Let the old man scold us. Are we children, that we should still fear his wrath?”
“I would prefer not to be lectured,” Loki says, rolling his eyes.
“Then your vaunted foresight has failed you at last,” replies Thor amiably. He traps both Loki’s wrists in one broad hand, pinned above their heads, and trails his other hand down to paw at Loki’s nipples through his tunic. Loki clenches his teeth, stiffens to hide the hitch in his breath. ”You should not have run from me.”
Thor is already hard (naturally; in all likelihood he has been since Loki brushed past him in the hallway and slipped a whisper full of filthy promises into his ear, an hour ago), the warm solidity of it palpable even through the leather of his breeches. Their breeches. Much as he might wish to, Loki cannot conceal his own arousal, not this late in the game.
“Ah, but what would be the fun in that?” he says, as Thor nuzzles under his collar and sucks a mark into his throat. ”Nnh. Stop that. Do you want all of the Einherjar to see what made their princes late to the inductions?”
Thor pinches at one of his nipples, hard, and Loki can’t quite smother the little whine that leaks between his teeth. ”I would have all of Asgard see, if you would allow it,” Thor says, laying more kisses along the line of his jaw. His free hand fumbles between them, unlacing Loki’s trousers (stroking him twice to bring him to full hardness, drawing another embarrassingly needy sound out of him) and then his own before sliding back up the inside of Loki’s shirt to toy with his nipples again.
“Ah—indulge me my secrets,” Loki says, his casual tone betrayed by the way his hips buck, the way his breath hangs. He feels Thor’s mouth stretch into a grin against his throat. Curse him for having found out this weakness. He abuses it relentlessly—it’s humiliating how quickly he can reduce Loki to uncontrolled moaning and thoughtless movement with a few flicks of his fingers.
Halfway there already, Loki thinks, burning with it—but he has tricks of his own, and Thor is easier than a cheap slattern.
He turns his head and dips his tongue into Thor’s ear, licks along the shell of it, and earns a shuddering groan for his trouble. (Thor is too open, too obvious, and Loki loves that about him, how he puts his every thought on display in his face and his body and his words. Loki trusts him for it, that unassuming transparency shining out like sunlight into a mind full of cloak-and-dagger. Thor is the only one he trusts at all—but he is not thinking about that now.) ”Hurry,” he says, verging on breathless, straining vainly against Thor’s weight and strength. ”Hurry, brother—”
Thor cuts him off with a hard kiss, all teeth and desperation, and wraps his rough hand around their cocks. He pulls, and Loki lets out a strangled cry into his mouth—he pulls, and Loki flexes his fingers above his brother’s iron grip, reveling in the feeling of his bones and tendons moving against Thor’s palm—he pulls, growls low into their kiss, bites down sharp on Loki’s lower lip, and Loki stops breathing and comes abruptly at the tiny pain snapping through his nerves—he pulls, groans loud and hitching, and Loki feels him come too, shuddering through their mutual climax as his legs weaken and his weight presses Loki harder into the pillar.
He doesn’t break the kiss; instead, he softens it, letting go of Loki’s wrists and wrapping both arms around his waist, sucking at Loki’s lip with a contented hum. Loki shoves at his shoulders—he doesn’t like the lightheaded sensation that teases the edges of his mind when Thor kisses him like this, holds him like he would never let go if Loki would allow it (which he never will because it makes him horribly horribly nervous to be trapped in Thor’s embrace, a feeling he refuses to examine too closely).
“All right, all right, you have made your point,” he says, managing to slip free. He snaps his fingers to get rid of whatever seed might be staining their clothes, then works to make himself presentable again. ”Come on, if we wait any longer Mother will be less inclined to protect us.”
Thor steps up behind him, lays one more kiss to the soft place below his ear. ”I love you.”
Loki yanks his collar up and walks stiffly away.
Tagged with #pitbap #thorki #hey look i wrote a thing #nsfw #tumblr prompt fic
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