[ Loki remains quiet and dry-eyed, though his body is a hook cast into the bolstering strength of Thor about him. Every breath is full and hot with the scent of sun-warmed skin, of desire sharpened and polished for his focus alone. In the end, the summer-king had chosen foremost with his heart — the winter-king might have sneered upon the tears and the fool's paradise of generosity so freely given, but Loki himself only dips his lips to the golden arch of Thor's throat, so as to better leave his gleaming mark.
And his hands are as cruel as the mind that lies beyond the brackish green of Loki's eyes, but now they smooth and slide and press, across skin once more familiar than his own. When the weight of Thor's cock finally rests in the circle of his fingers, Loki looses a fragment of a sigh, stroking once and again the heated swell, remembering well the life and vigor Thor had once given him with the merest shift of his hips. ]
Will I never see them? [ asks Loki, after he has quieted the bile of jealous anger that had risen again — oh, that his children had shared his gifts and his terrors, and yet not once he had not been allowed to soothe and to share his own with them in turn. ]
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And his hands are as cruel as the mind that lies beyond the brackish green of Loki's eyes, but now they smooth and slide and press, across skin once more familiar than his own. When the weight of Thor's cock finally rests in the circle of his fingers, Loki looses a fragment of a sigh, stroking once and again the heated swell, remembering well the life and vigor Thor had once given him with the merest shift of his hips. ]
Will I never see them? [ asks Loki, after he has quieted the bile of jealous anger that had risen again — oh, that his children had shared his gifts and his terrors, and yet not once he had not been allowed to soothe and to share his own with them in turn. ]