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Every century or so, depending on how active he's been on the battlefield, Thor replaces the leather that winds around Mjölnir's handle and loops at the end. It's a simple matter of cutting off the old and tying the new strap in its place. However, Loki volunteers to assist in (and complicate) the procedure, mostly to test his new spells. He sits cross-legged on the bed, wearing a set of pajamas and charming lengths of leather between his hands, while Thor sits shirtless on the floor and polishes Mjölnir's Uru head.
"Are you almost done?"
"Does it matter?" Loki replies without looking. His hands glow green over the leather he holds. "I'll be finished when the task is complete."
Thor smiles, considers, and then clambers up onto the bed to sit across from his brother. "...you know this isn't necessary, Loki. It will be replaced again in another century, regardless of what you do with it."
"We'll see, won't we?" Loki still keeps his eyes down and concentrates on his hands. It's an opportunity—and Loki isn't the only one who can make mischief between them. While Loki's work approaches the edge of the strap, Thor takes the end that's already done and ties a slip knot into it, and he waits until the right moment when Loki's wrists are together before leaning forward and encircling both.
"Thor!" Loki pulls back, scowling, which makes the knot tighten further. "We'll never finish with all your distractions—wait—" Thor leans forward to kiss Loki, who hesitates before returning the kiss, and soon they both indulge in distraction. They push and pull at the leather that connects them, but Thor wins (he usually does), and he pushes Loki onto his back towards the side of the bed. Thor grins down at him—breathless, still annoyed, attempting to crush Thor's sides between his knees—and he calls Mjölnir to his hand.
"Now really," Loki huffs as he sees Thor sit back and loosely wrap the other end of the strap around Mjölnir's mallet. Then, he reaches over Loki's head to drop the hammer off the side, where it lands against the floor with a heavy thud that reverberates through the room. Thor watches Loki's eyes widen as the leather pulls taut, and he chuckles as one of Loki's knees digs deeper into his ribs. "What do you hope to do, Thor?"
"I hope to make you relax, brother," Thor says as he puts his hands on Loki's hips. He keeps Loki still as he shuffles back on his knees, and eventually he pulls Loki's pants down as well. After narrowly avoiding a kick to the chin (and laughing at the attempt), Thor discards the garment to the floor, and then leans over to take Loki's cock into his mouth. His hands steady Loki's hips, keeping them down when they would have bucked up.
Above him, Thor hears Loki bite back a moan as his back arches, and it encourages him to suck harder and take as much as he can into his throat. Loki twists, panting, and Thor bobs his head at a slow, steady pace until Loki finally gives up and collapses on the mattress. Then Thor pulls away and moves off the bed towards his bedside drawer.
"Thor," Loki pleads, though he glares at Thor when he returns, bottle of oil in hand. Thor catches Loki's knee before it contacts his face, and then pushes it aside so his legs are spread wide.
"You are a conflict of messages," Thor says as he unscrews the bottle's cap and drizzles two fingers with the warm oil. He brings his hands low between Loki's legs, smearing it over his hole and feeling him tense. "You will have to tell me what you want."
"What I want?" Loki scoffs, his voice only wavering when Thor begins to work a finger inside of him. "This is all your idea; I am only here to help you protect your precious hammer."
"Is that it?" Thor smiles as he twists one finger inside Loki, loosening that ring of muscle before he adds a second one. "You want to take Mjölnir?"
Loki takes a deep breath, staring at Thor. "Only the handle," he whispers, and they both shiver at the image of Loki welcoming the smooth metal into his body, fucking himself down towards the head, using Thor's weapon in the most literal and perverse way Thor can imagine. His trousers are uncomfortably tight; he stretches Loki with more purpose and haste.
When he has worked his way to three fingers, Loki lays there, hot and open and wanton, pulling at the leather strap over his head while he keeps his legs wide for Thor. He turns an unfocused stare at Thor while he moves down against his fingers and breathes, "You are not really—?"
Thor grins. "I am." He slides his fingers out and leans over to kiss Loki, brief and rough, and pulls back before Loki can bite him back in turn. Thor's hand reaches up and he only has to think of Mjölnir before the hammer returns to his grasp, the handle smooth and cool against his palm. The knot around Mjölnir's head stays firm as Thor sits back with it. As it moves, Loki's hands come down, too, fingers gripping tight at whatever he can hold of the strap.
Taking the bottle again, Thor slicks Mjölnir's handle with oil while Loki watches. His eyes follow Thor's hand, who curls his fingers around it as tenderly as if it were his own cock. "You will take this, brother," Thor says quietly, "and you will pleasure yourself with this alone."
"We'll see," Loki says with skepticism on his tongue. Thor presses the blunt end of Mjölnir's handle against Loki's entrance, coaxing it in with a finger to guide, and it serves one immediate purpose: it keeps Loki silent. Thor glances up briefly to see his brother stare wordlessly at the ceiling with parted lips, taking in short and shallow breaths. Loki's long fingers flex uselessly around the strap, sometimes pulling, but Thor remains the only one that can move Mjölnir's weight.
He only has to slide it in a little more before Loki takes over, slowly fucking himself on the handle, sometimes asking Thor for an angle—"Ah, higher, yes..."—and Thor is captivated by the sight. Loki doesn't touch himself, keeps his hands carefully around his navel, but he's still hard. He arches, he moans, and his black hair sticks to his temples and the back of his neck; he's so wanton and loose and open—and it's all for Thor. Loki puts on his best shows for Thor's eyes only, he knows this, and he watches eagerly.
Watching Mjölnir's handle disappear into Loki almost feels like fucking him himself, and Thor briefly think of reneging on his own conditions. His hands stroke Loki's thighs impatiently, feeling the tremble of his muscles and the erosion of whatever rhythm he meant to keep. He's close. His fingers curl tight, his brows knit together in concentration, and then Loki's whole body shudders as he comes, striping his hands and his stomach.
"Thor..." It's but a whisper, and Thor's not sure if he was meant to hear it or not.
All his movements draw Thor into a trance, traps him in his arousal and non-action, until Loki himself breaks it with a breathless laugh, looking up at him. "Do you want something, brother?"
He does.