[ ah yes, there shall be talking, but not just yet, not now. loki is spent and sated, he is warm and weary and messy and comfortable despite it all. thor's broad hands sweep over his back, against his sweat-dampened skin, and loki sprawls over him like a blanket, still hooked tightly over him and for now unwilling to move.
but at last he turns his head to kiss the lightly bruising welts at thor's collar, and he hums low and contented, kissing, kissing, kissing, peppering them where he can reach while his arms lift to tangle, loose and skinny, around his brother's neck.
and up comes his head, his chin resting against thor's chest, his eyes still glazed and sleepy beneath the thick fan of dark lashes, a curling smile playing over his mouth. his dark hair is a mess of cowlicks that stick to his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, and loki knows that he must look a thoroughly molested mess but he's disinclined to care. ]
I SAY HAY. WHAT'S GOIN AWN.
but at last he turns his head to kiss the lightly bruising welts at thor's collar, and he hums low and contented, kissing, kissing, kissing, peppering them where he can reach while his arms lift to tangle, loose and skinny, around his brother's neck.
and up comes his head, his chin resting against thor's chest, his eyes still glazed and sleepy beneath the thick fan of dark lashes, a curling smile playing over his mouth. his dark hair is a mess of cowlicks that stick to his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, and loki knows that he must look a thoroughly molested mess but he's disinclined to care. ]
.. Well.