[ at last thor allows him space to breath, and loki sucks in an inhale, quick and deep, a great gulp of air to lungs that burn. yet even though his mouth is free, thor assaults him in other ways, relentless in his touch, in the press of his mouth now to loki's sensitive throat.
brother, he breathes, the word like a prayer, an entreaty, and no longer is loki able to think, to control his breath or his voice or his body. he wonders, vaguely, if these sweet, overblown sensations are the work of the chip alone, if the reality of all of this is diluted and corrupted by its presence - would loki still feel the same without it? would he pine for his brother so terribly?
yes, he thinks, he probably would. he cannot know for sure, but loki is confident that thor's touch would thrill him always, that his closeness, his kiss, would ever set loki's heart to beating madly in his breast. outside influence or no, thor will always be thor and loki will always love him, will always cherish his affections and crave his approval, his trust and his love. and surely he receives it now, with his brother pulling so insistently at his hips, sucking bruises into his skin which he can already feel aching and throbbing and its a good thing that loki wears this cowl, for thor is no doubt leaving him a brutal gift that shall last for days.
each successive upward roll of thor's hips drives that spike of hot, keening pleasure into his belly and loki for once is glad of how forgiving leggings can be, plate and mail would be much more uncomfortable, though it makes his want abundantly clear. loki is hard, he is hot, and he ruts his hips to thor's without thought, his hands scrambling down his brother's back and gripping, grasping, hooking in his cape for support as he nuzzles to his brother's ear, his jaw, breathing in the familiar scent of his hair and skin. ]
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brother, he breathes, the word like a prayer, an entreaty, and no longer is loki able to think, to control his breath or his voice or his body. he wonders, vaguely, if these sweet, overblown sensations are the work of the chip alone, if the reality of all of this is diluted and corrupted by its presence - would loki still feel the same without it? would he pine for his brother so terribly?
yes, he thinks, he probably would. he cannot know for sure, but loki is confident that thor's touch would thrill him always, that his closeness, his kiss, would ever set loki's heart to beating madly in his breast. outside influence or no, thor will always be thor and loki will always love him, will always cherish his affections and crave his approval, his trust and his love. and surely he receives it now, with his brother pulling so insistently at his hips, sucking bruises into his skin which he can already feel aching and throbbing and its a good thing that loki wears this cowl, for thor is no doubt leaving him a brutal gift that shall last for days.
each successive upward roll of thor's hips drives that spike of hot, keening pleasure into his belly and loki for once is glad of how forgiving leggings can be, plate and mail would be much more uncomfortable, though it makes his want abundantly clear. loki is hard, he is hot, and he ruts his hips to thor's without thought, his hands scrambling down his brother's back and gripping, grasping, hooking in his cape for support as he nuzzles to his brother's ear, his jaw, breathing in the familiar scent of his hair and skin. ]