[thor fic] if i were good (and could love you back) part I
fandom: thor 2011
pairing: loki/thor
warnings: non-con, bottoming-from-the-top, torture, pseudo-incest, mind-control.
summary: Loki doesn't take no for an answer.
Fill to this prompt at the norsekink
if i were good (and could love you back)
Despite the years, Thor recognizes his brother easily.
His brother looks leaner, as if he has not had a decent meal in a long time. The deathly pallor of his skin gives him a look of illness, flushing fever-pink whenever one of Thor's new comrades get close enough to deliver a well-aimed blow. His lithe body moves just as Thor remembers it, snake-quick and deadly, dancing just out of reach at the last possible second. Outnumbered and caged in from all sides, he laughs, loud and familiar, green sparks spilling from his fingers.
He is Loki, Son of Odin, Brother of Thor, Liesmith and Silvertongue all wrapped into one but all Thor can think and see is his brother returned. Flesh and bone and blood and here.
After years of crushing guilt (-you let him fall. You didn't stop him. You, with all your strength and power, could not make him stay-) he feels like at last a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
Only but a few steps away, Loki is so close Thor yearns to wrap his arms around him and never, ever let him go again. Thor looks at him and aches. filled to bursting with love and confusion and anger (-brother why? Brother how are you here? Brother look at me brother brother brother-).
"Hail, Brother," purrs Loki when their gazes meet across the burning battlefield, a silent murmur meant for Thor's ears only.
His eyes are hungry, flaring hot with wicked emerald as he makes fools of Earth's mightiest heroes.
-and Thor is as helpless before them as ever.
It shames him, but he does, cannot, fight as a true warrior-son of Asgard even as his friends fall in battle around him. Something stays his hand, makes his blows softer, holds him back. Thor knows full well the name of this feeling, a burning hot and painful (-a secret. Haunting dreams of pale skin flushed pink beneath you, hooded green eyes blazing with want-).
Thunder breaks out and strikes the earth with a mighty roar of anger, and the clouds cry rain, weeping for the return of a sibling once lost and now returned.
"This is bad," Tony says from behind the Iron Man suit, his voice a quiet, urgent thing, "this is really bad."
Smoke rises from the ruins of the city, broken buildings and burning houses. Though the rain fights against the flames, the damage is done.
It is destruction as Thor has never seen his brother revel in. Loki's pranks, though often resulting in some repercussions and not without their harm, were never more than pranks; pranks done in good humor and jest. This, though, is pure chaos.
Clint spits blood on the pavement before he pulls the lady Widow to her feet. She brushes him aside, her face a snarl of rage.
"We must regroup," she orders, already reloading her vast expanse of weaponry. "The Captain is keeping him busy, but not for long."
Her hard gaze turns to him, mouth pinched together. "Thor, you're our biggest hitter. You need to get over there now."
Guilt eats at Thor, crawling up his throat and suffocating (-yet it is not enough to suffocate the hunger that eats at your heart like poisonous venom. It burns with the taste of the forbidden, apple-sweet and decayed and still you want-).
His friends do not know his brother. They believe Loki to be another of their 'villains;' a mortal with powers who, with enough skill and battle, can be taken down and imprisoned.
No prison can hold his brother, not if he does not wish it.
"My friends," he begins, his voice thick with feelings.
Sudden movement makes his grip tighten on his hammer; he has just enough time to shield himself before a blue and red flash strikes the pavement, dirt shell exploding as a screeching mass takes flight, circling above.
Knives rain down around them, one for each of Clint's arrows, knocking them from their course with insulting ease. Natasha pulls the archer down, dropping to one knee, and opens fire, spraying the swirling mass with bullets. Reconstituting quickly, the flying mass regroups several feet away and and separates into a single, sleek black form while Clint and Natasha quickly reload.
Natasha curses as the panther lopes and slowly transforms into a lush, black-and-green clad male form.
"Step away, mortals, and I might just spare your lives," Loki orders, straightening out imaginary creases on his uniform and then studying his nails, onyx black and just deadly as the rest of him.
Behind him, six multiples appear.
Loki's lips curve into a smile, razor-sharp and cold. "Or not."
Thor's heart thrums painfully. It's difficult to associate his brother with unnecessary cruelty. Loki had always preferred playing tactical general over the actual battlefield, and the times he did engage in physical combat, he killed cleanly, almost whip-fast, so as to avoid messes. The bright, almost fever-like blood-lust in his eyes is out of place and wrong.
"You can have fun with the others," Loki motions towards his doubles, then turns his chilly gaze on Thor. "But first, I would have some words with my beloved Brother."
The blade that had suddenly appeared in Natasha's hand stills but for a second before she takes flight, launching herself at the enemy. Her body moves like black liquid through the air, striking down and bypassing most of the doubles before she freezes, a look of surprise crossing her face. She hisses in pain.
Her knees hit the concrete with a dull, wet sound, and blood pours from her mouth.
Eyes a chilly green, Loki pulls back his spear. "I said step away, woman."
Clint is on him before he can move, and this time, Thor steps between them, striking with Mjölnir with a furious roar, thoughts of his brother momentarily gone and replaced with the sight of his friend's spilled blood.
Loki laughs, the sound cold and dead. The sound is so unfamiliar to Thor that it feels like a physical blow, and he stares in despair at his brother, once so full of mischief and delight, now brimming with anger and hatred.
"Now you face me, Brother," he chuckles softly. His tone is lethal and his expression is filled with hatred. Thor flinches. "After I damage your pets. Tell me, what will you do if I break them beyond repair?"
Thor's eyes flash with anger, the skies above reflecting his mood. "Do not test me, Brother. Stay your hand, and you may yet walk away from this."
There is blood on Loki's temple from a blow he took. The center of Thor's chest hurt for a moment, and it feels as though his lungs are constricting.
He can recall numerous fights between them, a majority of them in jest as children, mock-fights that ended in breathless laughter and pleasantly aching ribs. As young me, their studies took them in wholly different directions. Thor, to the harsh and unmerciful training grounds; Loki, to the dusty and damp libraries. As adults, Thor had struck his brother in earnest once. The bruise he'd left, painfully stark against Loki's fair skin, had tortured him for months. It had been a wrong of the worst kind, to hurt the one he'd sworn to protect until his dying breath.
Standing before him now, after years spent mourning a brother he thought lost to him forever, Thor finds he can no more bring himself to hurt Loki than he could have back then, what feel like so many lifetimes ago.
Thor feels his grip on Mjölnir tighten. "It does not have to be like this, Loki," he pleads, stepping forward.
Loki cocks his head to the side and smiles-and he is achingly lovely as Thor remembers. "If you truly believe that, then you are a fool."
He's in front of Thor before the latter can blink, his elbow connecting with Thor's ribcage, sending Thor hurtling backwards into an abandoned store. Before he can attack again, Thor catches him by the forearm, gripping tight and launching him back.
He doesn't want to hurt him, Thor thinks in despair. Loki is his brother and to cause him any sort of pain eats at him. Thor doesn't, can't, won't, but at this rate-
Landing on all fours, Loki grins at him, and as fast as lighting is rushing towards him again.
Prepared for the advance, Thor spins-a split-second of doubt, hesitation, and guilt gnaws at his insides-his thigh lifting to connect a solid boot blow to Loki's jaw.
Only to have Loki vanish in a swirl of green smoke, his laughter ringing from all directions.
"You'll have to do better than that, Brother!"
Thor curses when a curtain of darkness descends on him, a moving, breathing entity of magic that reeks of his brother. He jumps away before it can reach for him, smashing through a window and rolling fast to his feet.
His brother's laughter follows him all the way to his comrades.
"We might to have out the Hulk on this one, guys." Steve's face is grim, left eye swollen shut. The monsters Thor's brother has brought with him are not overly strong, but they are plentiful in number. "I don't see any other way of bringing him down."
Natasha's stomach is slick with blood. She smashes through a group of enemies to land by Thor's side, and before he can so much as iqnuire about her injury, she pushes him hard on the chest. Thor doesn't budge an inch, but she is not deterred by this.
"He knows you," she flings out, suspicious, and accusatory. It's all Thor can do not to flinch. "Who is he? What does he want?"
Thor is saved from answering by the appearance of a new wave of monsters. She glares at him before jumping into the fray, and injured or not, she remains a force to be reckoned with. Thor follows her, covering her back.
He cannot possibly strike his brother with the intent to kill, as his friends expect him to. But neither can he allow his brother to roam freely and hurt the innocent people of Midgard. Nor his friends. Loki may be his blood brother, but the Avengers have become his brothers-in-arms. A new family, here, in this foreign yet beautiful world.
Slim hands settle on his shoulders, long fingers gripping loosely.
Thor's breath catches.
A familiar voice, low and breathy, whispers in his ear, “You're going to have to pick between us eventually, Brother.”
Beating like a drum, Thor's heart stutters painfully.
Ice cold lips brush across his cheek, those same hands wrapping lovingly around his throat. “It's either them or me.”
Thor freezes momentarily, then locks his jaw together and swings his weapon behind him, striking mist and the ghost feeling of his brother's body. Thor swallows at the feeling, a knot in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth, fighting back against memories of his brother as he once was.
His memories mix with images of half-remembered fantasies, thoughts he hadn't entertained since his brother's fall. His shame increases. Helplessly, he recalls the heat of his brother's body pressed against his back, the soft murmur of his lips across his cheek-and has to grind his teeth at the desire and want that urge up and lick at his body like flames.
Shaking his head free of dark, plaguing thoughts, Thor buries his hammer in the enemy's face, growling his anger and frustration against their battle-cries.
For all the times he'd imagined being reunited with his brother-and there had been many, his brother the driving force that brought him to earth, searching, endlessly searching-not once did Thor think he would meet Loki in the battlefield. As an enemy. As someone he would have to hurt.
Thor has sworn to protect Midgard. Yet. Yet-
"-hor! Answer, Thor!" Tony bellows in his ear through one of his little devices. "Thor, if you can hear me, we need you upfront! Thor!"
The little voice dies out, replaced by far-away explosions, and finally, static.
Lithe arms wrap around his chest, a tall, thin body molding to his back.
"I think, perhaps," Loki murmurs hotly against the back of his neck, and every muscle in Thor's body visibly stiffens, "it's time we moved from here. Don't you think so, Brother?"
He means to move, to howl his anger and attack. He doesn't.
"Brother," he chokes out instead, and he wants so badly to turn around and crush his sibling to his chest. To demand answers and beg forgiveness. To grab his face in his hands and kiss his brow. To press his kisses lower, against thin firm lips, so he might finally catch a taste of the forbidden and find if it's as sweet as he'd imagined.
Thor's breath hitches, and Loki leans in to lick a taste of the salt water mixed with rain on his brother's face. "Earth has soften you, Brother," he whispers, pressing their cheeks together. His touch burns. "You are not the man I remember you once were."
Pain shoots through his temple, causing a brief sense of dizziness that forces him to stumble.
Thor's jaw flexes in fury even as his heart splinters.
Never in all their years, no matter their disputes, their disagreements and many differences, has his brother ever invaded the privacy of his mind [1]. It is this, more than anything else, that drives home the painful realization that this is not his beloved brother as he once knew him. The destruction of a peaceful city, the loss of innocent lives-it is the work of a villain.
I am what you made me, Brother, is the thought in his head, not Thor's, and now it's up to you to take responsibility.
A sense of delight, heat and fire, and Loki is gone, pulling out so fast Thor feels somewhat sick to his stomach.
Thor turns before Loki can physically escape, launching himself into the skies with his brother's neck soft and warm in the unforgiving grip of his hand. Fifty feet in the air and, laughing, Loki executes a flip, the sole of his foot cracking hard against Thor's temple. It throws Thor's weight in an unexpected direction, disorienting him. He loses his grip on Mjölnir and two blinks later finds himself on his back in the middle of a deserted part of the city, far from his friends, his wind knocked from him and Loki sitting on his chest. Knees on opposite sides of Thor's torso, the smile on his brother's face is as cold and unforgiving as a Jötunheimr winter.
Twin knives bury themselves in the palms of his hands. The knives hiss as runes, poison green and yellow gold, spill from the handles, past the blades, and ink themselves into Thor's arms. The runes hold him there, despite Thor's struggles, and a sliver of panic settles in his chest when the rest of his body refuses to cooperate.
Mjölnir ignores his call.
Thor curses.
Dwarf magick.
Colors burst in his eyes when a solid kick connects with his face in a sickening crack, an explosion of pain following after. Warm and wet, blood pours down his nose, filling his gasping mouth.
Tilting his head up with the tip of his boot, Loki grins. "Brother! What has befallen you? You are much weaker than I remember you," he croons, cupping Thor's face in his hand with a gentleness that belies his previous actions.
Black nails dig cruelly into the soft skin under Thor's eyes. "Don't tell me you're going easyon me!"
The runes sting, burning like Hel fire. "Brother," Thor growls, fighting against his bonds. "Brother, what you are doing is wrong-"
Sitting back, Loki crosses his legs. "Really? Tell, what is so wrong about taking what I want? It is not my fault these mortals are too weak to fight for their planet."
"They are good and decent people," snarls Thor. "You've no right to take what is rightfully theirs!"
"And was it not you, dear Brother, who once said the spoils of battle belonged to the strong?" Sitting up in one fluid motion, Loki sneers down at him. "Don't tell me you've had a change of heart, Thor."
Thor grunts when the heel of his brother's boot digs cruelly at his side.
Crouching by his side, Loki hisses in his ear, "I came here expecting to find my Brother. Yet all I see before me is a Midgardian dog."
A vicious kick to his stomach has Thor grunting in pain.
Lips pulled back in disgust, Loki cards his fingers through his hair, pushing back a few stray locks. "You can't even fight me properly. Do you think I don't know when you're holding back?" He laughs, dry and humorless. "I am not a fool, Thor, do not treat me like one. You walked in here knowing this was a trap."
Because Loki is his brother, and there is no one Thor trusts more with his life than his wayward little brother. Countless of times has his life been saved by him, hundreds of wounds healed by his magick. It was always Loki, sharp and devious but loyal Loki, who Thor trusted with his back in the battlefield. The past doesn't change that. Loki has forgiven more than his fair share of Thor's fumbling mistakes, has often taken the blame for them, and gone to great lengths to make his wrongs right.
The smile on Loki's face tells Thor his brother can read this in his eyes.
"You are my brother," Thor grinds out, fighting against his bonds still. "You may go by villain now, but that won't change who you are to me. You are my brother, Loki. You are blood of my blood, and I will always love you."
It takes no effort to speak the truth. Thor has never been good with words, not like Loki. When it comes to battle, he dives in headfirst and asks questions later. He has a similar approach to everything else, because he's never been able to do anything half-hardheartedly. He loves in a similar manner, recklessly and without preamble, and he's never been afraid of showing his true feelings.
Except when it comes to Loki. Loki is the only one who can make him feel like a coward in the worst possible way.
Thor has always been afraid of loving his brother too much-
"You love me, you say?"
Loki's face is expressionless, a blank canvas up to speculation.
Slowly, he smiles, a lovely, gentle curve of his lips. His green eyes fall to half-mast, dark lashes crafting shadows on his cheeks.
And he is so beautiful it hurts Thor to look at him and know he can't have him. Can't touch. Won't touch. Should not-
"Tell me, Brother, what do you know of love?"
Thor grunts when his brother's weight settles on his chest again, legs straddling his torso.
Cupping his bloodied face in his hands, Loki presses a chaste kiss to Thor's brow. "I loved you as I have loved no one," he breathes against Thor's temple, eyes falling shut, "and with that same breath, I hate you as I have never hated anyone."
Thor's heart feels crushed in his ribcage. "Brother-"
"So know this, Brother mine."
Thor panics, a feeling of urgency fluttering in his chest. "Brother, look at-"
Carding his fingers through Thor's hair, Loki grips the golden tresses tightly, painfully stretching the tan column of the Thunderer's neck.
"The next time you and I meet, I will kill you." He mouths the words against Thor's throat, hot and humid. "If you don't want your human pets to suffer my wrath, be ready to fight me."
It makes no sense for words to hurt this much. Thor is no stranger to pain, yet each word from his brother's mouth carry the weight of a hundred enemy swords and do twice the damage.
But words have always been his brother's preferred weapon, after all, and Thor knows just how sharp that weapon can be.
He'd just never imagined it ever being used against him.
"And don't hold back this time, big Brother," Loki sneers, eyes green chips of ice. "I don't need you to protect me anymore."
He steps away from Thor with all the fluid and grace of a Prince, taking the familiar warmth of his body with him.
More than anything else, Thor wishes he were free so he could force him to stay.
"The brother who once yearned for your love is no more." Loki's words are hard and clipped, daggers in their own right. "I have put that person behind me."
The knives pinning Thor in place rip themselves from his hands with little delicacy, tearing a cry of pain from deep in Thor's throat.
"I suggest you do the same."
It continues to rain, the sky gray but empty of thunder, long after his brother is gone.
- - -
Thank you so much for reading. Concrit is gladly welcomed. Expect the next part in the next 24 hours derp needs to be edited derp
[1] - Comic Loki is telekinetic and has been known to influence many a victims, the harlot.