What They Do.

Cowards Brew

"Thor, you kind of scare me." Loki didn't move still. Curled onto his side he makes a long neck to
look at the panting mass of his brother throwing the door shut behind his back.
Thor chuckles and proudly holds the pot up he brought with him: "Look what I've got here! This
will ease your pain, brother. Your healing will be much more comfortable with it."
"And what exactly is it?"
"A salve. Worked into a sore spot it goes right through the skin to calm all pains inside."
Now Lokis eyes widen in recognition: "Oh, then it's Cowards Brew! I remember how you
laughed at Volstagg when he used it some years ago! Didn't ever think of it again."
Smiling like a boasting child Thor sits down on the edge of Lokis bed, the pot in his hands: "But I
thought of it!" "Don't expect a medal for once in a lifetime using your brain", Loki teases, "… but thank you."
"Good", Thor starts all enthusiastic, "And now off with that! "A quick move of his hands and he
rips the blanked away, leaving Loki like a caterpillar flopped from its cocoon.
Totally taken by surprise Loki yells: "What-wait, you -?" But Thor doesn't listen.
"You slept with your boots on?", he asks as he already wants to unbutton Lokis tunic.
"Yes, but-", shaking his confusion off Loki finally gets to his senses again and claws into his
brothers wrists: "Thor, LEAVE it!"
And he obeys, but not without a fat question mark written all over his face.
Loki, nodding to the pot of Cowards Brew, snaps: "I'm gonna do this on my own! And definitely
NOT under your eyes."
At this Thor frowns. "Don't be silly, Loki. You can barely move! I'm gonna help you", and
stubborn as he is his fingers force their way down Lokis tunic again. What makes him fight Thor
even wilder. And after some moments of scratching and pulling and struggling Thor just has
enough of it.
"WHY can't you just LET ME HELP YOU?" And he bristles in anger as he faces Lokis toxic
gaze. But only Thors helpless tears glistening in his eyes make Loki finally sigh in resignation.
"Fine. But only where I can't put it on myself – like my back."
"Thank you ......... this won't work, though, if you keep lying on your side."
And as Thor suddenly wants to roll his brother onto his belly Loki cries out: "NO! DON'T! STOP
THAT! I can't lie on my stomach. Remember where you BIT me?"
"Then we'll work the salve in there first!"
"We?"
"Okay, you."
"So you want me to finger myself in front of you?"
"That's not fingering yours-"
"YOU said it needs to be kneaded into the body."
"Oh Loki, just-"
"FORGET IT. I'm not gonna work my prick and let you watch."
Thor frowns, losing his patience. "So you cannot lie on your back and not on your front. You've
got to sit then!" And again his hands want to seize his brother to just turn him round like a doll.
"NOOO!"
Thor has never seen Lokis eyes in such a panic. This time he backs away in horror. Loki, blushing
from his own reaction, adds quietly: "I'm afraid I can't sit either."
And a knowing embarrassment creeps between them, up their backs like snails. But Thor, just in time to not REALLY realize, shakes it all off.
He scratches his head, thinking. "Well, … then try to get on your knees! And keep hold of your
bed head so you won't fall over when I work the salve into your back."
"But-"
"LOKI." Thor doesn't leave his brother any further choice now and decides to force his well
meant assistance unto him. And when Loki, supported awkwardly but good enough, fought his
body into the wanted position and peeled the tunic off his chest Thor examines him proudly and
says: "Now, how do you feel?"
Kneeling in his sheets, butt in the air, forearms resting on the filigree wooden carvings Loki hangs
bent forward like a bridge. "I am deeply enthralled."
"Ah, stop that, brother. You must admit this works just fine!"
Loki shakes his head and sighs.
The first thing Thor notices upon Lokis skin are spots of a thin, crumbling, white crust spreading
from under the trouser waistband all up the spine. And he wonders for an instant what that might
be – but then his head runs burning red. Whilst Thor sat in the hot springs water yesterday it
doesn't seem like Loki had the chance to clean himself up. There's not much white left staining his
skin, though. The rest of it must be sticking to his clothes inside. Thor gulps in sudden shame.
But when he sees the bruises and the cuts all shame is forgotten. And replaced by a heartfelt guilt.
All these shades of purple, blue and green and, yes, fresh red scattered upon his brothers body just
feed Thors need to make it all undone. Loki may have wanted it and used me to get it. But still it
was me who did this to him.
And so, like performing a holy mission, Thor opens the pot and takes a great handful of slicky,
pasty, transparent cream out of it, smelling like forest herbs, and smears it all across Lokis back.
His brother jerks a little at the cold fluid but doesn't complain. Thors eyes pick out a high cervical
in Lokis nape, the skin scrubbed sore above it, to be his first healing target. Using rhythmically
pressing circles and flinching at Lokis every muted whimper he quickly works his way lower and
is very proud of his fingers work.
"You seem pretty familiar to this, brother", Loki presses out and bites into his cheek, "am I to
suspect you secretly make regular use of Cowards Brews services?"
Thor chuckles deep and warm, by now completely lost in his hands duty. "Just shut it up,
Silvertongue!" And Loki joins in with a giggle. Then he breaks into a long, low moan half pained,
half eased and shifts his shoulder blades under Thors touch.
"Hhhh … I must admit I didn't really believe this stuff would work … mh!"
"It's good, isn't it?"
"Yes."
And Thor keeps on working down a slender spine, kneading the spaces between fine ribs,
pushing his thumbs deep into skin and muscles where the bruises are the darkest and cuts the
roughest. His hands are prickling and pleasantly hot from the salve. Where it hurts the most Loki
sucks a sharp breath through his teeth and stiffens tightly under Thors touch. Just to melt soft again
and let out a thankful sigh shortly after. But when Thor stops at Lokis trouser waistband there's a final huge bruise disappearing under it,
seeming to run down Lokis side. Thor frowns, slowly shoving his fingers under the fabric that's
keeping him from doing his work. Would it be okay if he continued down the hips? Loki could do
that himself, but now that Thor's already going … ? He glances up to where his brothers face rests
on his forearms. Sleepy eyed and dizzy from the herbal scent surrounding him he doesn't really
seem to notice or to care what Thor is doing anymore. So Thor just shrugs his shoulders and
without further ado pulls the pants down Lokis buttocks.
Just to expose what he successfully managed not to further think about until now. And the exact
reason why Loki said he can't sit.
There's scab crusting all his cleft, not thick but widely spread. Remainders of last nights blood. A
heartbeat long Thor feels himself buried inside there again. His length gives a delicious throb,
reminding him of how he'd selfishly enjoyed something this horrible. Oh Nine.
So instead of nursing the bruised hip Thor decides that it's more important to ease the pain where it
must be the very, very worst. Getting a new load of salve he takes a shaky breath in and tries to
prepare his unsettled mind for just omitting Lokis terms of the deal: Only where I can't put it on
myself.
"This is probably going to hurt a bit more. But it'll be over soon. Just be brave, brother."
Now this gets Loki skeptical and so he wants to glance over his shoulder and most likely protest at
Thors arbitrary act as soon as he'd realize it. But it's already too late.
The yell Loki loses as Thors fingers press down his sore cleft rings completely unknown in the
Thunderers ears. Loki, trying to jerk away but being held by Thors other arm slung around his
waist, rips his head as far around as his position allows to stare at his brother perfectly appalled.
Thor gulps so sorry as he watches Lokis lips tremble in pain. His fingers stop as he glimpses a tear
spring out one of these bewildered pools of eyegreen.
"Be brave, Loki. It won't be long."
Kneading his way down Thor bites cruelly into his lower lip and tries so hard not to listen to his
brothers sobs. He would protest, he would curse, he would probably slap Thor for this. It's not
what the deal said, and at all, nothing Loki would ever allow. But, and this realization makes Thor
even heavier with guilt, the pain must be bad enough to keep Loki from saving his pride. Glancing
up again and again Thor tries, besides the whimpers, to read the cramping of his brothers muscles,
indicating if the pain grows weaker. And slowly, sweat on his forehead, fingers working
frantically, Thor thinks, hopes to finally sense a betterment in Lokis shaky sighs and the laxing of
his back.
Thor gladly closes his eyes and lets his slicky fingers rest for a little while, lets Loki breathe, as the
worst seems to be over. Letting go of his brothers waist they both stay still for an endless second.
"Good", Thor whispers, patting Lokis shivering buttocks.
"I hate you."
And you'll hate me even more, Thor thinks, making a most sad face. But then again a kind of
melancholic pride flutters within his chest. Isn't this what kings are for? And big brothers
anyways? Oh, yes, Prince Thor should always have been helping the weak, even against their
own will. That's all King Thor shall be doing. Always.
And so he shoves one finger into Lokis cramping entrance, sliding as much of the healing salve into his brother as he possibly can. The whine he hears leaves Loki choking in tears of horror and
disbelief. Again.
"Thor", Loki pants, his voice breathless, "Stop it. Stop it, please!"
But Thor slides his finger in and out, stuffing Loki with Cowards Brew and working it into his
burning inner walls without mercy. Smoothly Thor slides his finger in and out. In and out. And
Loki struggles under him, cramps hard around him, too pained to even jerk away from the pain.
But then, slowly, all Lokis flesh grows soft. His breath goes deep and controlled again, weary, but
better. Thor, not yet completely sure, fingers him from the inside. And then, directly alarmed, he
finds a point that must be horribly sore still; as Thor pushes down into it Lokis whole body
flinches and almost collapses into the sheets. Abruptly his brother pants a desperate breath into his
lungs and locks it there. Thor only sees Lokis hair. But he'd bet his eyes are wide and light like ice
and glassy.
"Thor", he presses out, begging now, pleading, "not there. Please, NOT there!"
But Thor doesn't want to listen. He came to make it alright. And he'll make it ALL right! So his
finger stubbornly works on, pressing, pushing, rubbing, sliding out, getting more salve, sliding in
again, focused on this one spot alone. And Loki, subtly and to Thor completely impalpably
changed, fights hard not to writhe with every touch, his sounds even more hissed and repressed
now, until they all eventually unload in one loud voiced moan clinging through the chamber like a
spell.
A sound to remind Thor of … no. No. No. No.
As he moves on, his hand adamantly working, sweat starts to run down the Thunderers temples.
It's strange. The salve should have worked by now. But still Loki responds to every push into that
spot. It cannot be that sore, can it? But it must. Every time Thor glances up he finds his brothers
spine tremble, and every time he stares onto his finger disappearing in that tiny opening of flesh he
hears a sound caught between moaning and gulping down moans. So Thor can't help but hold on.
Closing his eyes he just continues thrusting his finger into this fire of a wound a countless times.
Until … he doesn't seem to care about getting the salve into Lokis sore body anymore. Until he
only cares for the rhythm. In. Out. Smoothly. So perfectly smooth. Thor wouldn't dare admitting
it. But that rhythm warms him from tip to toe, warms sweet, horribly sweet memories to new life.
With every in Thors head grows heavier, dizzier. And he opens his eyes to a blurred sight.
Watching his glistening finger re- and disappear from and into this sweet, blushed ring makes him
too cloudy with lust. And Lokis distant voice can't keep from whimpering a moan. And a moan.
And a moan.
Suddenly the soft touch of a trembling hand at his wrist makes Thor look up and back into reality.
Lokis muscles tense and lax under the bruised, white skin of his back, shiny from the salve, with
every further dip of Thors finger. He halts his movement as it's deep within. Lokis head rests on
his one hand clawing into the bed head like for dear life, his hair falling out of his sweaty neck.
The other reaches back for Thor like a plea.
"Thor", falls from Lokis lips, "please."
Please what? Please don't? Please do it? Do what? Thors bewildered eyes sink back to his finger
buried in Lokis flesh. And they sink down to his own lap. Where the great, round head of his
secret lust stretches his trousers forcefully up. He didn't realize he grew that hard. Staring at the
exact form of himself greeding under the raw fabric Thor imagines freeing the tense curve of his
want, he imagines standing up, placing his swollen tip where now his knuckle sticks. And Thor imagines for but a moment how he'd slip only his pulsing tip into that place, being embraced by a
tightness clutching around him like a thirsty suction. He could stop after his tip was locked in
there. He wouldn't hurt Loki with it. He could just …
No. He wouldn't. He didn't stop yesterday before his everything was down inside. And he
wouldn't be able stop now.
Tears filling Thors desperately confused eyes he stares down into his lap, watching himself throb
greedily against his trousers, haunted only by the thought of It's just not what we do.
And when suddenly Loki moves his shoulder blades and arches his overstrung spine Thor feels
him clench around his finger. Reminding him of how he clenched around his length last night.
Sucking a breath into his lungs Thor watches himself come untouched, a white blotch soaking
wider and wider through his trousers til it covers his whole lap in damping heat.
Some heartbeats and he gets to his senses again. Loki, chest heaving and arm trembling from
keeping his weight in place, gulps with closed eyes. And Thor, suddenly too aware that his finger
is still digging like a foreign body into Lokis private place, suddenly too aware that the salve must
long have worked by now, slides out into the cold. And he wonders where Lokis hand has
wandered. It's not at his wrist anymore and not back at the bed head. But it doesn't matter.
Clearing his throat Thor tries to save the situation and acts like he's just continuing to work the
salve into his brothers wounds. Turning to that white and purple hip he wants to get another
handful of cream ... and then he sees it; Lokis slender length pierces all raring into nothing but
cold air, trembling, waiting, craving to be touched. But there at the base is Lokis hand, his long,
white fingers closing around it completely motionless. Not like releasing but like holding back the
pressure. Glancing up Thor sees Loki still closed eyed, his brows narrowed in concentration,
gulping again to just hold it all back. Loki is desperately close. Thor sees it in the way the veins
procure from him, the way they pulse under his white fingertips. Thors tongue remembers every
single one of these veins.
For a moment Thor wonders why Loki doesn't want to come now that he obviously needs to. He
doesn't even bother wondering why he suddenly needs to at all. Loki just came so many times
before in Thors throat. But he never made himself come in front of him. Is it that? It's just not what
they do, isn't it?
And so Thor knows it, feels it urge inside of him. All dizzy again he knows what he's supposed to
now. Licking his lips he keeps staring for only a moment more, focused suddenly on the tip of
Lokis flesh, the skin so light in this morning and but barely blushed in all its lust. For just a
moment Thors eyes open wide and gaze at this tiny wet slit, at this white drop clinging to it,
trembling from it, growing more and heavier. Falling, suddenly, like a tear, and being swallowed
by the sheets to be a loss never to be regained.
Thor smacks. Oh Nine, no. No.
And then he already hears Loki sob in relief as he finally closes his mouth around that sweet,
warm, dripping thing. Thor, suddenly all eager to win back what they seem to have lost last night,
feels tears wetting his closed lashes as he sucks the first drops of that welcome and so lovely
familiar taste to run down his tongue like it did so many times before. He slugs loud. And he
cannot keep from getting greedy. Sucking his brother deeper with his every gulp he swallows not
only that throbbing bow but also the fingers closing around it, tastes them, licks them like a new
land to be conquered. Thors body fills with beautiful heat surrounded by Lokis sensational
sounds.
This is what they do, isn't it? Well, maybe. Maybe it's a bit more their bodies. Maybe it is a bit
more passionate than innocent. But this, Thor knows, is finally what they do again. He sighs a long and melancholic sigh into his brother and slings his loving arms around Lokis bare
hips, shoving his spread out fingers over skin, slick and warm with Cowards Brew, embracing all
he ever needed. And barely knowing what he does one of his hands finds its way back down
Lokis cleft, his fingers, one, no, two, slowly sinking back in.
Loki tenses, throws his head up and lets out a howl, half hoarse, half not even having a voice, and
seems to lose all of his muscles to a higher force. Breathing faster until way too fast he can't seem
to decide whether to roll into Thors fingers or to thrust into his mouth. And so he ends up doing
both, jerking between two flames of lust, trembling and barely keeping himself from slumping
down into himself. He bucks into Thors fingers, out of them into his mouth. And back.
This time Thor doesn't mind. Once he didn't like it. But now, now he likes anything. Let him. Let
him lose it and force in deeper. I need him deep. He gulps deliciously as Lokis shaft slides out.
And following him Thor gives into these movements like giving into a dance, moving his head,
his shoulders, his whole body, up and down, to never really let Loki out again, no matter who's
giving the pace, no matter who's in control, who's to be king. There's no one in control now. None
of them.
This is what we do. What we always should have done. He doesn't even notice as he comes into
his pants again.
One last wept moan and Loki, too, dashes away over the edge, arching his back. And Thor,
deeply comforted, satisfied and caring for nothing but this, drinks all the warmth that's fed to him,
drinks Loki like a calf drinks milk out of its mother.