Fear and Loathing in Asgard

by Speranza

Part Two.

Ravndal was a wasteland - snow-topped mountains, icy wind whipping through the trees - though they had strong, well-rested horses and were amply supplied. Loki refused to cooperate for the first part of their journey: he was content to sit back in his saddle and let his horse meander through the snow. This greatly annoyed Thor, who kept galloping ahead and then doubling back to urge him on. He could see the confusion on Thor's face, for they had both been taught riding as the sport of kings. But what use was that to him now? He had a flask smuggled under his furs, and he pulled it out and took a swig. The flesh above the wrist of his glove was faintly blue. The bastard would have chosen Ravndal--though of course he was the bastard. He turned his face into the white sky and felt the abrasion of ice crystals.

Still, centuries of practice had trained him to the hunt as well as Thor, and upon perceiving the merest hint of motion in the forest, he couldn't help but spur his horse to investigate; and upon catching a glimpse of the shimmering hide, Loki surged forward and grabbed tight hold of the reins, coaxing his horse into a fierce gallop and taking a huge fallen tree at a jump. His senses were all ablaze: the heaving of the black horse beneath him and the crash and bang of hooves, Thor bent low over his horse's gray neck, golden hair streaming out behind him, their prey a mirage, a halo, a sunrise.

Loki screamed into the wind, the cold air burning his lungs. He shed all his other roles and let himself become Skadi, Orion, Nyyrikki: a pure hunter. He kicked his horse to a burst of speed as they cleared the forest, racing Thor across the snow after the golden beast, both of them close upon the line of tracks. The black neck of Loki's horse pulled ahead of Thor's grey as they ploughed through banks of snow--and he could almost see it now, the beautiful strong flank, the high-piled twist of antlers almost architectural, monumental; godly. He would catch the beast and wear those horns, Loki vowed, as a--

Time stopped as the grey tumbled down, legs everywhere, an empire falling, the scream of the injured horse lost in the churn of snow. For an eternity Loki raced on, alone now on the wintry plain. He could catch the beast. It would be his, and his alone--but he was already pulling back on the reins, urging the horse around so violently that the confused animal reared up on its hind legs, and doubling back on his tracks toward the commotion. Loki was already halfway off the horse, and now he leapt down into the snow in a tumble of fur and leather. Thor had gotten out from beneath the grey and was stumbling to his feet, obviously distraught, and Loki tried to yank him away from the horse's violent kicks. Time ran backwards as they struggled, the centuries falling away and leaving them children--and it was his horse, Glaer, whose leg was broken; Glaer, the gentle chestnut he'd preferred in those days. And as Thor yanked him away from the poor beast Loki had dissolved completely, felled by grief and a savage self-loathing. He could not do what had to be done; he was no man. Thor had put down the horse while Loki turned his back on them, tears streaming down his face. He had been desperately grateful to Thor and at the same time had wished to put out his brother's eyes for bearing witness to his degradation. They had ridden back to the citadel of Asgard on one horse. Thor had never said a word to anyone.

He had thought this a fault line in the bedrock of his character - a sign of his fundamental weakness - and so had sought to overcome it. He had worked hard at killing since then. Now, centuries on, he saw Thor's eyes filling with tears. Loki seized him and said, roughly: "Go and fetch me my horse." Thor looked distracted and confused. Loki grabbed Thor's face, turned it. "Go and fetch me my horse," he repeated, and this time Thor nodded and moved toward the wandering steed; Loki drew his sword.

It was best not to linger. Loki swung up behind Thor on the horse and together they rode back towards the forest to make camp. It was familiar, riding behind Thor as he had done as a boy, watching the sun set red across the untouched snow. Thor's smell was as familiar to him as the smell of the horse, as the stink of blood in his nose. Thor's shoulders were slumped with exhaustion; dejection; he had liked the grey and he had not yet learned, as Loki had learned, that all men were one unforseeable step away from disaster. He felt drawn to put his arms around Thor. He also wanted to crook his hands into claws and sink them into his chest, rip his rib cage open: his supplanter, his guard, his brother-king. He hated Thor for crying and not being ashamed. He closed his eyes and tried to dream himself elsewhere.

He sat back and watched Thor labor to build their camp, then swept all but the fire away and conjured a circle of warmth and a pallet of furs and leathers. Frustratingly, this seemed to cheer Thor immensely; he wiped the grief from his face and thanked Loki profusely for his hospitality and love, promising to hunt and roast dinner for him in return. The wild pig was, Loki had to admit, delicious, and as he licked salty, hot grease from his fingers he thought about how he might ruin this experience for Thor entirely.

Thor was, of course, in his element, tearing into the pig and drinking lustily from the cask of ale they'd brought with them from Asgard, the stupid firelight making his stupid hair shine like gold. Suddenly, without warning, he leapt at Loki with a big stupid grin on his face and seized him by the shoulders.

"You see?" Thor said, shaking Loki so that the piece of pork flew from his fingers. "I knew the fresh air would revive you. Bring color to your cheeks," Thor said, and winced; no doubt the color in Loki's cheeks was blue. Loki felt a cold smile freeze on his face. "That is to say," Thor said quickly, hands tightening on Loki's shoulders, "that I am glad to be here with you. Out in the wild, like old times."

That was it. That would poison everything. There were, he now saw, other, subtler forms of destruction: other roles that he, in his hate, might yet play. "Yes," Loki agreed slowly. "Clever of you to choose such an isolated spot." He unbuckled and shrugged out of his jacket, then opened his shirt, ignoring Thor's shocked look. "I know how you worry about gossip. But here--" he drawled, reclining back into the nest of furs and unlacing his trousers, "you can take me, use me to your heart's desire--"

Thor's face reddened as Loki began to stroke himself hard. "That--I had not the intention--"

"No one need know," Loki whispered. "Now or ever." His heart was hammering with glee: there would be no way past this, now that it had happened. This moment would always be between them, provided he could continue to feign misunderstanding. Thor was staring at him in horror: well, he could use that; twist it. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he murmured, sliding his hand up his belly: Thor's eyes followed. "Why you brought me here, away from all our friends. It's all right: you don't have to force me." He closed his eyes and pushed his cock, hard, into his fist, arching his back; electricity crackled through his nerves. He was half-braced for Thor's blow, but that, too, would bring its pleasures: the tingle of a bruised mouth, knowing he'd won. "Unless you wish it. I do it willingly, brother...."

The blow didn't come. Loki opened his eyes: Thor still stared at him, paralyzed with revulsion and disgust. Loki determined to provoke him to action; he would play his part until Thor committed himself and smashed this fiction of their brotherhood into pieces. He surged up and almost into Thor's lap, stroking his hands up Thor's hard-muscled arms and then, finally, cupping his bearded face.

"It is all right. I know," Loki said to him, low and savage. "Better than anyone, I know the demands of your position, what constrains your desires, the preposterous paradox of being a god and yet being forced to conform to the straitened morality of fools--I know you, Thor, better than you know yourself--" He tried to kiss Thor's mouth and was stopped by arms of iron, so strong they shook his bones. Relief surged through him as Thor shoved him away and held him at arm's length: finally. Loki exhaled--the blow would be better borne if he relaxed--and prepared his first barb, the first savage jab, for he would never, ever let Thor escape the imputation that he had wished to lie with his own--

Thor held him at arm's length and looked at him. He was thinking. Loki always worried when Thor tried to do that, for fear he might break something. Loki became abruptly conscious of his own body--of his bare chest and his erect nipples, of his cock jutting out from the open v of his pants. He was practically naked and sitting in his brother's lap, but Thor was staring at his face.

When he finally spoke, it was so softly that Loki had to lean in to hear. "All right," Thor said in a low voice. "Come to me," and it was only when their mouths touched that Loki realized that Thor had taken his bent head as an invitation. But by then it was too late, and Thor was cupping his head with his hands, angling their mouths together, deepening the kiss, sucking and--with tongue--and--

It was--it. He. He was clawing at Thor's jerkin, licking the long tendon at the side of his-- Thor was. Even as he fell back into the warm pile of fur, Thor on top of him, inching down him, mouth soft and wet on his nipple, tongue trailing down his breastbone, Loki thought that--yes--this could work, too. He would be the tempter; the corrupter; Loki the perverse. He would be the snake in the garden and engineer Thor's fall. He would take his brother down with him, drag Thor down to the---the very depths of-- He had never imagined Thor sucking cock so magnificently, which was probably just as well; the penalties for this in the tales was quite clear. He groaned and thrust his hands down into Thor's hair, wrapping the golden strands around his fingers, and pulled him down, pushing up with his hips. He felt more than heard Thor's answering groan, a vibration around his cock that left him gasping on the edge of orgasm. "Fuck," he heard, and it was himself, "fuck," and then he was pushing Thor off, grabbing at his shoulders and tugging him up, and gasping, "fuck me," and, "come on--now, now--"

Thor lifted his face to Loki's. He was flushed and breathless, and he seemed lost. "I--" He hesitated. "I will try. If you wish it. But I have not the--" Loki slung an arm around Thor's neck and kissed the confusion from his face. With his other hand, he groped blindly in Thor's lap and was pleased to find him enormous and erect. And then they were grappling to common purpose, Thor grabbing his waist, Loki scrambling on top of him, still kissing and biting his mouth. Loki screwed down and heard Thor gasp--Thor's gasp--and opened his eyes wide, wanting to see him, glorying not only in the blinding pleasure of their fucking but in the scandal of it. To his credit, Thor held his gaze in return--no denial or embarrassment here--and Loki felt a violent rush of love for him: for his strength, for his audacity.

Perhaps Thor caught a glimpse of his sudden, stupid sentiment, because all at once Thor was kissing him, and toppling him backwards, and fucking him into the ground. It occurred to Loki in passing that it was unfair for Thor to fuck like a champion on top of everything else, but he couldn't maintain sufficient resentment. Instead, his gritted his teeth and mustered every last bit of his own sexual technique and athleticism, determined to show Thor that in this, as in everything, he was superior. Loki managed to tear all control from Thor for half the night, leaving him gasping and flailing as Loki rode him, giggling and gasping. But Thor had truly admirable stamina as well as a heroic recovery time, and so Loki too was often limp and moaning in incoherent ecstasy: fucked into submission. Thor was one of the best fucks he'd ever had; or all right, he could admit it: perhaps even the best.

By the time they lost steam, Loki was exhausted and starving and sore. Thor, on hands and knees, clumsily dragged over the rest of the roast pig. He tore off a piece and ate it, then collapsed with his face pressed against Loki's arm. Loki looked up at the sky, which was radiant with stars, and debated reaching for the pig himself. He realized, belatedly, that Thor was--pressed up--one arm--cuddling, he supposed, was the word. He turned in disbelief to stare. Thor was already half asleep.

"That was... You have always been smarter than me," Thor said drowsily. He drifted off to sleep, face relaxed, seemingly content. On the one hand, Loki was proud that Thor had fucked him without shame; on the other, shame had been crucial to his plan. He wanted Thor to feel debased, filthy, dragged through the muck. He had wanted to burden Thor with disgraceful sensations until he could never again look upon himself in a mirror: he wanted to fuck, suck, and finger him until Thor could not face their father without shame. Whereas Thor did not seem at all bothered, damn him.

He had anticipated rejection, not success; now that he had Thor, what was he to do with him?

Cast him off! --Well, surely he could, and Thor would no doubt be hurt by it, but they would soon be back where they started: Loki glowering, Thor cringing and yapping like a wounded animal.

Publicize their debauchery! Surely he could count on the good people of Asgard to bring home, even to one as dim as Thor, the vast disgrace of his position: the twisted, brother-fucking King-in-waiting. --And yet, experience told him that he would be blamed. All the stories told the same: it would be Loki the trickster, Loki the seducer. If Asgard heard that Thor had lain with Loki nobody would blame Thor. Nobody ever blamed Thor for anything. Loki closed his eyes and squeezed his hands into fists.

No, he had to play a longer hand. He must be Loki the seducer, and draw Thor away from his friends. He had underestimated Thor's affection for him, as well as Thor's capacity for lust. No more. Thor would be invincible against any outside force: he had to be undermined from within. He had to keep up his pose, keep their misalliance silent, and draw Thor down into the hell that he now occupied, alone.

End of Part Two...Part Three Coming Soon!

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