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Thor’s biceps twitch, hard muscles shifting minutely under his golden skin. His fingers flex against the intricate headboard. He’s not tied down—not tonight, not unless he’s bad—but Loki’s ordered him to keep his hands where they are. And Thor obeys, even though he craves the bite of rough ropes twining around his forearms, binding him where Loki wants; the harder ropes around his legs and ankles, keeping him spread and exposed for Loki’s pleasure.
But not tonight.
Loki dips his head and blows softly on Thor’s dick—hard, dripping, waiting—and braces his hands on Thor’s thighs. He waits for his brother’s move, waits for Loki to push his legs apart and trace one long finger slowly around the pucker of Thor’s hole.
He doesn’t. Thor knew he wouldn’t, that tonight is different, but he’s still disappointed. It makes something curl in his stomach, an awful feeling of wrongness that he knows comes from the utter backwardsness of their relationship. Loki is supposed to be the one pressed to the bed, hands fisting in Thor’s silk sheets, legs spread and face contorted in pain-pleasure as Thor pounds inside him. He’s supposed to bracket his little brother’s slim hips with his large, powerful hands, tug him close and spill inside him.
Well, that last one will still happen tonight.
Loki stands and lets the dark green robe slide off his shoulders, revealing his tight, lean body; his cock is half-hard, and there’s a slickness shining on his inner thigh. For a moment, Thor forgets himself, and lets go of the headboard. His hand is reaching out to touch Loki when he remembers and jerks it back, cringing.
“Please, brother,” he murmurs. “I forget my place; forgive me.”
Loki smiles, thin lips curling upwards, and ducks his head. His dark hair falls over his face, and Thor can’t see his eyes.
“You are forgiven, dear brother,” Loki says. He places a hand on Thor’s sternum, digs in his fingers and drags his nails down Thor’s skin. Thor arches and cries out, stinging pain going straight to his cock. “After all,” Loki continues, his voice soft, “tonight is special.”
He’s right. Thor can taste it. The powerful pheromones that roll off Loki in waves, crashing into Thor’s mind and sending him reeling. He can barely breathe in the presence of his intoxicating brother, can barely think; Loki has had five heats thusfar—five that Thor has been aware of, at any rate, and he suspects that there were many before and Loki simply left Asgard entirely for those. But the five heats since Loki allowed Thor to be his Alpha, since Loki staked his claim—unheard of for an Omega, though Loki is, undoubtedly, not like any Omega there has ever been—Thor has not been allowed to relieve him. Loki, instead, bound Thor to their bed or a chair or the wall and forced him to watch as Loki took himself in hand, worked his tight, wet hole on toys. He was forced to listen as Loki spoke amidst gasps and groans and asked Thor if he thought he’d ever be worthy enough to take Loki as an Omega. If he’d ever be allowed to let his knot grow inside Loki’s body and fill him with his come.
Loki closes his sharp teeth on one of Thor’s nipples, and Thor jerks, muscles tensing painfully and then relaxing as Loki soothes the sting with his tongue. “Shh,” he says, smoothing Thor’s hair away from his face. “Be content, brother. Tonight, I have found you worthy.”
Thor groans. His eyes flutter closed, then snap open as Loki pulls painfully on his hair. “Eyes open, Thor,” he says, voice pitched low. Almost a growl. Thor shudders. “Watch me.”
He couldn’t tear his gaze away even if he wanted to. Loki straddles him, long, pale legs a stark contrast to Thor’s thick, golden limbs. He wants to place a hand on Loki’s flat stomach, wants to see how his fingers span the entire width of Loki’s waist, but he doesn’t dare take his hands from the board again. Loki reaches behind himself and his mouth drops open in a silent gasp, eyelashes fluttering, and Thor wishes he could see it—wishes he could see Loki’s long fingers pressing into his hole. He’s seen Loki take them before, seen Loki spread on fingers and toys, but Thor has never touched him there. And Thor is certain Loki has never taken a cock.
Loki slides another finger into himself and his hips jerk forward, cock sliding against Thor’s stomach, and Thor groans. His own cock is still untouched, and he wishes Loki’s hand would move back just an inch, just enough to brush Thor’s erection and give him the friction he so desperately needs.
But he can’t come yet. Not until he’s satisfied Loki’s need. Not until Loki lets him, and Thor doesn’t know if it’s because Loki’s enchanted him or because he’s simply trained Thor that well, but he knows that even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to spill until Loki gives him permission.
He whines softly in frustration as Loki slides his fingers out and holds them up, examining the way they glisten in the soft candlelight. He waves them in front of Thor’s face, and the scent hits Thor like a charging beast—the raw essence of Loki mixed with the overwhelming smell of an Omega in heat. Thor’s Omega.
As if he can read Thor’s thoughts, Loki’s lip curls and he presses his fingers to Thor’s mouth. “Suck,” he orders, hiss-growl that makes Thor’s cock jump and a stream of pre-come slide down the shaft.
Thor parts his lips obediently, allowing Loki to shove his fingers inside, and draws his tongue over the slick digits. It’s too much—the taste of Loki’s heat on his tongue, overwhelming his senses, and he needs to be inside Loki now, feel his tight hole clenching around Thor’s cock, and it’s so different from what he usually needs that Thor almost can’t stand it.
“Please,” he moans around Loki’s fingers, flicking his tongue against the soft pads and sucking hard. “Please, need you, make you feel so good, brother, please, let me—“
Loki slides his fingers out and considers him. Thor gapes, silent pleas on his lips, a line of slick on his chin, and Loki smiles. He wipes away the spit and fluid with a single swipe of his thumb and brings it to his own mouth, sucking thoughtfully. Casually, like he’s not open and leaking and desperate for an Alpha’s knot—
“Who do you belong to?” Loki asks, and it’s ridiculous, Thor’s an Alpha, he shouldn’t belong he should own—
“You don’t get what you want until you answer,” Loki says. “My heat is making you forget your place. You will remember it, or I will bind you and make you watch as I find my own relief. Again.”
Thor chokes, eyes widening desperately. No. No. Loki’s sighing and rising up on his knees, disappointment etched on his beautiful face and he’s going to stop, he’s going to find Thor unworthy, and—
“Yours,” Thor gasps out. “Please, I’m yours, I belong to you, my place is under you—or on my knees—the floor—your feet—wherever you wish, I’m yours.” The words come out in a rush, and Thor feels every one of them binding him to his brother. He has always been Loki’s.
Loki sighs, content, and strokes Thor’s hair. “Good,” he murmurs. “So good.”
“Please,” Thor begs.
Loki raises himself up again, and for one wild moment Thor thinks Loki’s going to leave him, oaths be damned, but then he lowers again and oh—
It’s better than Thor could have imagined. Loki is slick and tight, sliding painfully slowly down Thor’s cock. His slim thighs tremble with the effort, and his brow glistens with sweat, and Thor wants to soothe him—help him—but Loki wouldn’t welcome it. So his hands grip the headboard until he’s sure it should turn to splinters and waits until, finally, Loki bottoms out and Thor is buried inside his brother.
He can’t think. Loki is hot, burning, his tight hole clenching around Thor as he raises up and slams down and they both cry out together. Loki’s head is thrown back, his dark hair damp with the evidence of his exertion, cock throbbing hard, and Thor forgets himself. His hips jerk up, pounding into Loki, and by the time he remembers, Loki’s nails have scratched a dozen new red lines into Thor’s chest and stomach.
“Don’t stop,” Loki growls.
Thor has almost no leverage like this, which Loki is entirely aware of, judging from his pleased little smirk. He’s also doing most of the work, riding Thor hard and letting Thor’s shallow thrusts carry him through.
When Loki comes, it’s with no warning. He tenses, his hole tightening, and spills hot onto his stomach and Thor’s—and Thor realizes Loki never touched himself. The thought almost tips him over the edge as well, but Loki hasn’t given permission.
He whimpers slightly as he comes down from his orgasm, nails digging into Thor’s sides, and then he groans.
“Do it,” he orders, and Thor doesn’t have to ask what he means. His hips jerk up, cock thrusting into Loki’s slick, loose hole, and Loki makes tiny half-pained noises—his cock is starting to harden again, but the overstimulation must be too much because he’s shaking.
“Come,” Loki says. “Come, knot me, do it.”
Thor howls as his come spurts into his brother’s body, slicking him wet and good, and Thor feels his knot begin to form and he whimpers.
He’s never knotted anyone before; it’s formed a couple times, when he got himself off, and Loki always found it amusing and Thor deflated quickly from embarrassment. But now, as his knot stretches Loki further, there’s only his brother’s wide eyes, his small mouth open in a gasp, his hands tightening on Thor’s body as he shudders with pleasure.
Loki drops his head to Thor’s chest, panting heavily. They’re tied together, for the first time, and Thor wants to cry.
They stay like that through the night, Thor pumping more and more come into Loki’s body, knot keeping the slick fluid inside him, and Loki must feel so full—so full of Thor. Another wave of possession hits him, and like the others, it feels wrong. Loki isn’t tied to him. He’s tied to Loki.
Finally, as the sun rises and Thor can feel Loki’s heat dissipating, can feel his knot deflating and his come sliding out of Loki’s hole, Loki covers Thor’s hands with his own.
“Let go,” he whispers. “Here. Touch me. Feel how open I am, how wet, how ruined I am from your thick knot.”
Thor groans. It’s the heat talking—Loki would never, ever be this willing—but it’s a gift and Thor can’t refuse. He rolls them over, settling Loki on his stomach and spreading his legs. His hole is red, gaping and wet and his thighs are slick with Thor’s come and Loki’s own fluids. Thor smiles and ducks his head, sliding his tongue across the abused opening. For a brief moment Loki tenses, and Thor thinks he’s going to object, going to shove Thor off the bed and storm back to his chambers. But he doesn’t, and he relaxes, and Thor licks again and Loki sighs in contentment.
He presses his lips to Loki’s hole, thrusting his tongue slowly in and out, licking and tasting and cleaning Loki’s insides. It’s bittersweet and heady, and Thor presses closer, desperate to taste everything. Loki trembles beneath him, shuddering and gasping. Thor spreads his legs wider, moves his tongue down to lap at the sticky fluid coating Loki’s soft thighs.
Finally, Loki grunts and drags Thor back up the bed.
“Clean later,” he mumbles. “Sleep.”
Thor laughs and pulls Loki close. Loki kicks at him, but barely grazes Thor’s hip, and reluctantly (oh, so reluctantly) settles against him. Thor sees his brother’s smirk in the predawn light before he drifts to sleep.