Chapter Text
Mornings on Asgard were quiet. Or so Tom figured, as he lay awake, staring out the balcony into a warm, blue sky clear of all clouds. The curtains fluttered softly, the breeze wafting in and caressing their bodies.
Loki lay in his arms, asleep still. He hadn’t let Tom go all night, lips at his neck, wide hands on his spine holding him close. He slipped into Tom sometime around dawn, rutting slowly until Tom was weeping from frustrated pleasure. They came only moments apart, Loki drawing him in for a kiss, falling asleep almost immediately.
Five thousand years.
Tom’s stomach knotted in fear, in worry, in excitement. What would he accomplish in so long a time? What would he witness? Peace? Atrocities?
He imagined a little bit of everything. Suffering was something the world would never go without. But neither was joy, or even uncertainty, both of which he felt in abundance.
But it didn’t matter. Not when he wouldn’t face it all alone. He peered down at Loki, breathing deeply on his chest. It was as if a monumental weight had been lifted from the god’s shoulders. His brows weren’t puckered with worry. He hadn’t whispered in archaic languages, or woken in a gasping panic, hand clutching the first part of Tom he could find.
Whether this time free of unease would last, Tom would have to wait and see. But he had a feeling Loki would sleep effortlessly from here on out.
There was a knock on the door and Tom raised his head. Loki shifted but didn’t wake.
Very carefully, Tom pried himself away from him and wrapped himself in the first thing he could find—Loki’s torn and bloodied green cape.
Opening the door, he was surprised to find himself face to face with Loki’s mother.
“Oh!” he gasped, face blooming with color. He wrapped the cape tighter around himself, still highly conscious of his naked legs and shoulders. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t know--.”
“Please,” the queen interrupted, touching his arm. “It is Frigga, Thomas. Are we not past such formalities?” She smiled kindly.
Tom returned her smile, albeit a bit sheepishly. “Frigga,” he said quietly. “You’re right, of course.” He looked behind him, at Loki’s figure stretched languidly under the sheets. “Loki’s still sleeping. Was there anything I can help you with?”
“I came to inquire about the state of health for Loki and yourself, if everything was alright?”
Tom nodded. “Yes. Everything is…well, everything is perfect.” He blushed and she smiled again, her eyes crinkling beautifully. The time appointed for his death had passed. The relief and joy he felt were simply indescribable.
He stepped out and closed the door behind him. Glancing up and down the corridor, he turned to her. “I can’t pinpoint what exactly is different, but I feel this incredible…lightness in my bones. Like I could start running this second and not stop for anything. Not for fatigue or thirst or pain. It is like sparks in my blood. I feel…resurrected. Does that make sense?”
He worried at his lip, feeling like a fool in front of this ancient and glorious being.
But Frigga stepped close and touched his elbow softly. “It makes the clearest sense, Thomas. And in a way, that’s exactly what happened. Your resurrection. Bringing you out from the basin in the suspension room, Loki’s fear was palpable. I’d never seen him so agitated, so unguarded--not in all his long life. His emotions were on display as they never have been before. He truly loves you with his entire being.”
Tom blushed and hugged his chest tighter, eyes on the floor. “I love him, too,” he whispered. “There was no question about accepting the apple. If it meant being with him. Without him, I would have accepted my fate quite easily.”
“As he would have not,” she said seriously, her knowledge of her youngest son more profound than Tom could ever hope to even begin understanding. “Will you break your fast with me, Thomas?”
He stood straighter, his eyes widening. “Yes, of course. Shall I wake Loki?”
“No, please let him rest. He went through something of a plight to procure the apples. Idunn is no easy foe. Her poison and restrictions of his magic will have depleted his strength. The rest will do him immeasurable good.”
Tom nodded, his heart breaking all over again at Loki’s trouble. “I will dress and then meet you?”
“I shall wait here. Please take your time. I will escort you to my rooms, where there will be fruits and cheeses and soft bread warm from the ovens.”
Tom’s stomach growled and he laughed, embarrassed. “I’ll be but a moment.”
He dashed into the room, collecting his scattered clothing from the floor. Wishing he could have showered first, Tom dressed quickly. He eyed Loki’s prone form, back rising and falling, and wondered if he should wake him to at least let him know where he’d gone.
Before he joined Frigga, he found a bit of parchment and ink on Loki’s table. He scribbled a note and left it on the pillow next to Loki’s head, kissing his wrist softly.
He slipped into the corridor and Frigga smiled at him approvingly. She took his arm and they walked down the empty passageways. The palace was very quiet, very still. But he did see guards posted at nearly every entranceway, staring straight ahead, bowing their heads as Frigga passed.
“I truly hope you and Loki will stay long enough to visit the rest of the city. It is quite beautiful.”
Tom truly hoped so too. “It would be a privilege, absolutely. From what I’ve been able to see in passing, it is unlike anything we have on Earth—or rather, Midgard,” he said.
She laughed softly, hugging his arm a little tighter. But then she stiffened, her gaze suddenly distant.
"Are you alright?" Tom asked.
She blinked after a moment and focused her eyes on him. She took his hand gently. "I apologize, Thomas. I was only expecting Thor. But do not let your heart be unsettled. No harm will come to you."
He nodded, a little disconcerted at her cryptic words.
They approached her rooms and the guards opened the doors in unison. The same heat from his previous visits flowed from the room, but it was somewhat lessened, controlled and more tolerable. And then he saw why.
Thor and someone he could only identify as Odin, sat at the table in the middle of the room, mugs placed before them. Thor, having already partaken of the plates of food spread out on the table, stood and smiled at Tom, all warmth and good cheer. Odin looked up as they entered, his one eye trained on Tom from across the room, inscrutable, but penetrating, imposing. Tom swallowed nervously.
This reception was alarming, and he nearly faltered in his steps, but Frigga’s small hand was reassuring in his own.
“Thomas,” Thor said as soon as he was within earshot. Appearing as tall as a giant, Thor bent down and hugged Tom. A few of his joints popped from the force of his embrace, but it was all affection and Tom couldn’t find it in himself to mind in the least.
With Thor and Frigga at his side, Tom turned to Odin, still seated and eyeing him quietly. After a tense moment, Odin spoke.
“You are he, then.”
Unsure, Tom found himself nodding.
“Loki’s entire reason for…everything,” Odin said softly, his hand palming a mighty staff made entirely of gold.
Tom said nothing at that, still unsure if Odin was being serious or not.
“Sit, go on,” Odin said, gesturing with his hand to the seat opposite him. Thor returned to his own seat and Frigga took hers at the other end of the table.
Tom sat stiffly, hands clasped in his lap. A dull ache started up behind his ribcage. He missed Loki terribly in this great palace with these great, and rather terrifying, people. Well, only two of them were terrifying, and Tom was beginning to get over his fear of Thor. Only Odin, then.
A servant appeared and prepared a small portion of cheese and bread and fruits, setting the plate before Tom, along with a goblet of what he figured was wine.
"Thank you," he murmured, smiling up at the young man, who bowed and retreated to his place by the doors.
"How do you fare, Thomas?" Thor said, biting into a pear loudly.
"Quite well, thank you. I was speaking about it to your mother, actually. It's an amazing feeling, whatever the apple did to me."
"How old are you?" Odin interrupted, ignoring his food entirely.
"Thirty-two, sir."
Odin smiled. "Thirty-two. And do you know how old Loki is?"
"Father--," Thor started.
"It is of immeasurable significance that he grasp the meaning of it all. Now that he will join us in our...tricky immortality." Odin paused, eye trained on his eldest son and heir. Tom shifted in his seat, eyes flicking between the three of them. Thor flexed his jaw and placed his devoured pear pit on his plate. Frigga simply stared at Odin, silent.
"Sir," Tom started, licking his lips nervously. "Perhaps you, in all your knowledge and years living, see me as nothing but a child. But I can guarantee that this will do nothing to diminish my love for your son. Or make it any less true. No one can prevent that. Loki is the most magnificent person ever to come into my life. He is of a purity and light I’ve not encountered, nor do I think I ever will again. But then, what do I know? As you say, I'm only thirty two years old."
Odin’s expression didn’t change, but Tom felt better at having spoken. Thor and Frigga’s wide smiles helped too.
“Loki was greatly troubled when he came to you. Was he not?”
Tom frowned, resisting the urge to bristle. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that Loki was troubled when Tom met him. It was something that was revealed to him very slowly, over a period of time. But he wasn’t about to tell Odin that. “I’m sorry, but is this some sort of inquisition? I was under the impression I would be eating breakfast with the queen.”
“And you will, my darling,” Frigga said. "Odin felt it was the right time to meet Loki's partner. And to ask about his time on Midgard. Whether you knew anything about what Loki experienced...from before." She cast Odin a look pointed enough that Tom realized there was no way she was in agreement with his impromptu line of questioning.
Tom turned to Thor, who had his eyes cast on the far wall.
"You believe I would give you information which Loki himself chose not to disclose." Tom looked Odin straight in his watery eye. "I will not."
"Thomas is right, father," Thor said, looking at Odin, who sat perfectly still. "Loki would not tell me what happened. If he told his mortal, then such was his choice, and Thomas is under no obligation to--."
"He is under every obligation!"
The room went deathly quiet as Odin's shout reverberated off the stone walls. The embers crackled loudly on the hearth and the room was suddenly too warm, too close.
"Your mother saved his mortal’s life," Odin continued after a moment. "It was from our lands that one of the golden apples was provided to him in his hour of certain death.”
"Loki saved his life, my love" Frigga said quietly. "With Thor's aid, he brought the apples back from Idunn’s orchard, and it was he who provided one to Thomas. I did nothing. And nothing should be expected of Thomas." She turned to him, a kind, proud smile on her face, half apologetic on her husband's behalf. "You are a guest here, a guest of the royal family. And we are greatly pleased to meet the person for whom Loki has chosen to open his heart. Nothing shall be expected of you. Please know that you are given permission to roam wherever on Asgard you desire to visit, to stay for as long as you wish." There was a small amount of longing in her voice. For wherever Tom went, Loki was sure to follow, and any time spent on Asgard by her second son was precious to the queen.
"Thank you, Frigga," Tom said, returning her smile. "I wouldn't be averse to a tour of the palace and grounds. Even the city. If I might be accompanied by Loki and Thor, of course."
"There is no question, Thomas! Of course we will."
"Will what?" came the icy drawl from across the room.
They all turned to the door, where Loki stood, eyes narrowed in barely concealed anger.
**
The light felt wrong when Loki woke. It was later than he usually slept, and the bed was cold when he reached his arm out to the other side. Thomas wasn't there.
He lifted his head, blinking to clear his vision. "Love?"
The room was empty. He sat up, the sheets bunching at his waist, and caught sight of the note. Frigga invited me to breakfast. Didn't want to wake you, my love. I will be with her. Love you. ~T
Loki cursed, tossing the sheets aside and dressing with a whispered spell. Appearing just within Frigga's doors, Loki felt a wave of fury at the scene before him. Thomas, sitting with his mother and Thor would have been fine indeed. But Odin, in all his imperial superiority, was seated across from Thomas, staring at him as if he were some kind of prisoner before the throne. Staring at him as he had once stared at Loki, long ago.
He seemed to have caught them in the middle of conversation.
"There is no question, Thomas! Of course we will."
"Will what?"
They turned surprised gazes at him, but Thomas' face revealed simple love. And relief.
"Darling," he whispered, turning in his seat.
Loki crossed towards them in slow, measured steps, until he stood at Thomas' side. He took his hand and cupped his chin with the other.
"Are you alright?" he murmured, eyes roving over his form.
The alarm on Thomas’ face was enough to hint at the anger Loki was projecting, and this only fueled his ire. In addition to the caution and concern he Thomas usually looped each other, there was a fragility over their recent salvation, something hidden just behind Thomas’ lashes, a hope to celebrate. All this threatened, squashed, by the eons of family strife brought to a head over this simple breakfast.
"Yes, we were just...chatting."
Loki knew Thomas didn't mean to lie. He was averse to the habit taken up quite easily by others, by Loki himself. But Thomas was being polite as ever, clearly nervous in the Allfather’s presence.
Loki’s gaze drifted to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”
It was Odin who answered. “If you insist on remaining secretive and ambiguous about what took place after your fall from the Bifrost, then I insist on speaking to your cohort.”
Loki’s face paled in his rage. “He is not my cohort, he is my lover, my chosen partner. And I have made it abundantly clear that nothing of my recent past will be revealed to you, neither by myself, nor anyone I have deigned worthy of the knowledge.” He looked at his mother. “Perhaps in time, I may feel differently about telling Frigga, or even Thor. But not you, Odin. And you know why. Everyone save Thomas knows why.”
Thomas appeared ready to interrupt. Loki squeezed his hand gently and Thomas closed his mouth, quiet.
Odin looked upon Loki, his small beady eye impenetrable. “Would you ever…reconsider?”
Odin’s voice was soft, the smallest measure of…caring seeping through. Impossible.
It startled Loki, threw him off center. As a supreme ruler, Odin was not without his own tools of manipulation, but there was something sincere in his question, something that felt a lot like honestly. He retreated a small step, and Thomas rose beside him, arm wrapping around Loki’s waist.
“Brother,” Thor said quietly, elbows resting on the table, fingers steepled before his face. “Please…you can tell us. There will be no judgment.”
Mind racing, Loki tried to quell his uncertainty, but the rage and disappointment he’d felt over a lifetime came roared through his mind. After ages of having been fed only deceit and manipulation by the man he’d once been proud to call Father, he now expected Loki to trust him? With his secrets, his pain and plans for domination, thwarted, left with only his suffering at their failure, his failure? He remembered as a child, ages and ages ago, walking hand in hand with Odin down the Rainbow Bridge, listening rapt as Odin explained the constellations and the telltale signs of spring and fall, why the water fell off the edge of the world. Loki remembered being so willing, so eager, to learn it all from him, to cling to that warm hand and run along beside him. All before he began to see the stark differences between himself and Thor, the way Odin’s affection varied between the two young brothers, throwing their abilities, or lack of them, into startling relief. Whether consciously done or not, it was the obvious difference in Odin’s treatment of the brothers that caused their relationship to suffer so greatly. Before long, Loki began slowing his step to match Frigga’s gait, taking her hand instead, bending over spell books together, matching her movements as she taught him to fight with blades and daggers and long swords. She encouraged him to whisper his magic, urging the power that pulsed just behind his fingertips to grow exponentially until his mind was strong enough to handle the rest.
Loki blinked.
His family was staring at him and Thomas, radiating the purest warmth, was unwavering at his side. He shook his head slowly, unsure. The last thing Loki wanted to do was reveal his vulnerability before the person he blamed for his pain and disillusion, an honesty he’d only ever shared with Thomas. He felt the overwhelming urge to call to Heimdall and drag Thomas from the room and back to their quiet life in London.
“Darling,” Thomas said, hand rising to tuck a strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear. “Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps finally being open with what you went through…will help you…right here,” he said softly, placing his open palm over Loki’s heart.
Facing him, Loki looked into his blue eyes, placid and already so wise, for so young a person. He pulled him to the side, his back to the others.
“Do you really think so?” Loki whispered, cradling both of Thomas’ hands to his chest. “You saved me once. My heart is yours and if you think this is what is best for it, I will do it.”
Thomas smiled, his eyes turning down at the corners, soft, loving, his very heart. “I would never presume to tell you what to do. You and I have, for many years, decided things together, as a couple, because that was how we knew worked best for us.” Thomas took his face when Loki looked down, brow furrowing at the truth in his words. “I will support you in anything you decide to do. Anything. If you choose not to, I will respect that. But I do feel that it would be for the best. It is plainly evident that Frigga and Thor love you dearly, and if Odin hasn’t changed in a millennia, then it would still be better, perhaps, to lighten your load here,” Thomas said, fingers tightening over Loki’s chest. “Let us help you lighten it, darling.”
Sighing, Loki nodded and kissed Thomas’knuckles. How he went so long without his beloved and brave mortal, Loki did not know.
“Very well,” he said a little loudly, addressing the others. “I will share with you what happened. Although, much of it is murky even for me, and many of my memories from that time are lost. Which may be for the best.”
Frigga rose and came to stand next to her son. “You are not alone, my child. We are here with you. You will never be alone again.”
Loki swallowed. “If I may be truthful with you now,”he said softly, heart clenching at the tears gathering in her eyes. “I wasn’t alone during my torture either. You were with me, mother.”
She gasped his name quietly, lifting onto her toes to embrace him. The others remained silent but Loki felt Thomas beside him, his brow furrowing with sympathy, hand resting on his back.
“Very well, then,” Odin said, his voice rippling softly through the warm air. “Let us continue.”
Frigga pulled away, but not before touching Loki’s cheek and kissing his open palm. Thomas took his hand and led him to the table, taking his place in a chair beside Loki. Facing his family, Loki opened his mouth to speak.
**
As much as Tom had gleaned from Loki’s disturbing nightmares the truth, it turned out, was far worse. Loki’s tale was a jumble of softly spoken words, whose whispered expression did nothing to diminish the horror of his capture and subsequent, nearly unspeakable torture, images of which flashed in Tom’s eyes, remembering his time venturing into the dark recesses of Loki’s mind. Frigga’s quiet tears, Thor’s increasingly menacing silence, and Odin’s calm reserve bore witness to a ghastly recount of mental anguish, broken bones, torn skin, and ceaseless bleeding, the death of a boy Loki figured none would miss.
“I had to give myself up to it,” Loki was saying, hand tightening around Tom’s. “I needed to submit to bear it. It was,” Loki sighed, hanging his head, “the worst kind of defeat.” Tom rubbed along his spine, needing to be closer. There was an urgency to the way Loki clung to him. Nearly any break in the conversation had Loki turning to him, eyes roving his face.
“And you are better now…after all this time?” Odin asked.
“I was plagued by nightmares for a time. But Thomas relieved me of those,” Loki said, squeezing Tom’s hand.
“Do you know where this creature is now?” Odin asked.
Loki shook his head. “After New York, I served my time here and settled on Midgard. I’ve had no further contact with him, nor has he sought me out. I am of no use to him, for any matter.” His gaze settled on Tom, a quiet look.
“I will find him,” Thor said, inclining his head in Loki’s direction. There was a shade of danger in Thor’s eyes, his hands clasped loosely before him. There were no screamed threats or thrown chairs. His calm was terrifying, his vengeful certainty more than enough to chill Tom’s blood. So this was the Thor of legend, the quiet and indomitable prince. Protector and provider of justice and grisly judgment. Tom never wanted to be on the other end of such a force.
“I did not see it,” Thor continued. “On Stark Tower, during the battle. I did not see it. Your pain. The forced submission, and the humiliation caused by it. You told me that it was too late to stop it. You looked so resigned, admitting such a thing. But I didn’t see it was because another was coercing you.” Thor shrugged and studied his callused fingers. “Perhaps it was difficult for me to bear because in my mind I never imagined there existed a person with a power great enough to force your hand. My brother,” he finished softly, sadly.
Loki stayed quiet. Tom knew his hesitation with that subject, his belief that he might have wanted all that destruction all along, that to be forced was to subjugate himself to a truth he’d always known. But Tom didn’t think so. Loki felt remorse. It was just hard for him, despite all his feels of betrayal and sense of inferiority, to admit that remorse was even a possible option.
“Your dreams haunted you,” Frigga said. “This is what you dreamt. What Thomas worked so hard to rid you of.” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief.
They were quiet.
Thor rose and came to stand by Loki’s side, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “It is due time that such a being was brought to deserved justice, brother. You have my word.”
Loki blinked. Tom sat up next to him. “Thank you, Thor.”
“Are you satisfied, then?” Loki asked after a moment, eyes lifting to where Odin sat, expression unchanged.
“This man saved you?” Odin said, gesturing to Tom, ignoring Loki’s question.
“In every sense of the word, yes.” Tom shifted in his seat and Loki’s green eyes cut to him quickly, searching, burning. Tom blushed under the scrutiny of that affectionate gaze.
“Then I extend to him my gratitude,” Odin said softly, and all turned to him, a surprised silence following. “Despite the feelings you may have harbored for me,” Odin continued, and Tom pulled at Loki’s hand when he appeared ready to interrupt. “You are part of this family. Thor and I will meet in council over this creature’s fate,” he added quickly, eye veering to the side, distant. He stood abruptly, pain washing over his features, and Frigga rose with him, a small hand on his elbow to steady him. “My queen,” he whispered and she smiled up at him.
They came around the table and stopped before Loki.
“Son,” she said and Loki raised his eyes to meet hers. “You will never again suffer at the hands of this person or any other.” She cupped his chin. “On this you have my deepest assurance.”
A chill sped down Tom’s spine. In the steeled look of Frigga’s gaze, so different from her usual maternal kindness and warmth, he saw so much of what made Loki icily formidable, a tightening around the eyes, a promise.
Loki stood and embraced her, kissing her once on the cheek. He nodded at Odin, a bit stiffly. Thor clapped him once more on the shoulder.
“I shall join you and Thomas later for the tour we promised him. For now, Father and I have much to discuss.”
They left and Tom was finally, blessedly alone with Loki.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Gutted,” Loki said, rubbing his forehead.
Tom sighed. “I’m proud of you, darling.”
Loki turned wordlessly and took Tom’s hand. They materialized in his rooms, Loki pushing Tom to the bed.
“And you?” Loki whispered, mouthing at Tom’s neck. “You are mine.” He stripped him slowly, pressing his erection against Tom’s thigh. “Anything you desire.” He kissed Tom’s shoulder, sliding his teeth down to his nipple, and bit down. Tom gasped, fingers sliding into his dark hair. “It’s yours, my heart.”
“God…Loki. I love you.”
“And I you…my king.”
Tom’s eyes flew open. Loki was grinning widely down at him. One moment Loki was clothed, the next he was naked and pushing into Tom, the stretch and burn of penetration eased with whispered words of love against his lips.
They fumbled together on the bed, long pale limbs tangling, hands pulling, until finally Loki, kneeling on the bed, powered Tom’s thighs further apart and lifted him to straddle his hips.
Tom started a rhythm on his lap, bouncing and circling his hips. Loki took a handful of Tom’s curls and pulled, exposing his long neck to the sharp bite of his teeth. The harder Loki pulled at his hair, the harder Tom dug his nails into his shoulders, one hand clamped on the back of Loki’s neck, leveraging his movements and holding the god to his throat.
“I can be a bit…stronger with you now,” he murmured against his skin. Tom whimpered breathlessly and nodded. “How much…rougher can I be, love? Tell me.”
Tom felt the blood rise to the surface of his skin, the heat making him bask under Loki’s wide-eyed attention. Long fingers clenched at his back, demanding an answer. Tom’s voice was but a whisper. “Very rough. Go on and mark me.”
Loki growled and lifted Tom high before slamming him down again. Tom cried out, his eyes squeezing shut, Loki’s cooler skin alarming against his heat. “Yes, god yes. Loki, again.”
Keeping Tom flush against his chest, Loki snapped his hips and fucked into Tom over and over, swallowing his broken cries, his shaky moans, their lips meeting in need. He fisted Tom’s hair tightly and bit down on his neck, clamping on, holding Tom still when he struggled in his arms.
Loki groaned as Tom’s cock dripped and rubbed hotly against his belly. Releasing his neck, Loki slowed to a steady rock, Tom’s hazy gaze meeting his. Cradling Loki’s face with trembling fingers, Tom smiled, clenching his lower muscles, adoring how Loki grunted in pleasured pain.
“I love you, Thomas,” Loki whispered, opening his green eyes, long black lashes fanning up. “May I always be worthy of you.”
Tom kissed him hard, their tongues wrestling, bumping teeth, until with a surprised gasp, Tom was flipped over, landing on his hands and knees on the bed. Loki aligned himself and thrust in, reaching for Tom’s neck. Wrapping both hands around his throat, he kept Tom bent sharply backward and rutted into him. Tom’s prostate pulsed.
“Oh…fuck.”
“Come,” Loki said softly.
“Loki, please—!”
“Come.”
“Darling, I need—harder—.”
Loki tightened his fingers and Tom felt his belly coiling tenderly, beautifully. He managed to gasp a panicked yes when his orgasm burst over him. Eyes rolling back, fingers skimming the sheets, Tom seized up, falling back into Loki’s waiting arms. Hands soothed over his chest, lips cooed in his ear. He gulped in air, crying out as another wave of pleasure rolled through his veins, robbing him of sight, his cock still painfully erect.
Groaning, Loki bit his shoulder playfully and lowered him to the bed, pressing his legs together and pushing in again. Tom rocked beneath him, cheek pressed to the sheets, blinking dazedly. Flattening his hands on Tom’s back, Loki thrust in three, four, five times before his own climax ushered another set of groans, his come spilling warmly into him. Tom smiled lazily.
Breathing heavy, Loki lowered himself to lie on Tom, who sank further under his weight. Fingers touched his curls, kisses lingered on his temple, hips squirmed slowly on his buttocks. Tom practically purred.
“I…definitely…need a...shower…this time.”
Loki laughed and slowly pulled out of Tom, who hissed at the burn.
“Right away, my dove,” Loki said softly, flipping Tom slowly and picking him up in his arms, carrying him like a bride into the washroom.
The water was so warm. Tom, curled up in Loki’s lap, wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in Loki’s neck, falling asleep almost immediately, safety and the great sense of home settling over him. The god’s hands held him tight. The water lapped at their skin, like the soft bobbing of a sailboat.
**
Touring the grounds took most of the following day. They rose early, ate breakfast with Frigga, and met Thor in the throne room. They walked through the palace, long corridors and cavernous halls all jumbling together in Tom’s mind. He arched his neck to see it all the better, trailing behind, gaping. Thor regaled them with the histories and legends of each tapestry and mosaic and artifact, Loki occasionally interrupting to correct this or that fact.
Loki kept a tight grip on his hand, tugging him along as they filed from one area to the next, the library and weapons hall the source of many tales from both brothers, who stared at each other with something akin to open affection.
The city was wide and lit with light. Colorful streamers crisscrossed over golden-paved walkways. Vendors hawked their prices in the market place, but no merchant accepted payment from the princes, all offering free tastes of their delicacies. Tom tried a bit of everything, bursts of flavor alighting on his tongue. Loki drank in every reaction, every small moan of delight Tom made, until a blush was a constant fixture on Tom’s face.
They visited the gardens, blooming in great eruptions of colors and shapes Tom never dreamed possible. Next were the fields surrounding the city, great green pastures whose tall grasses waved gently in the passing breeze. And finally, the Rainbow Bridge and the Bifrost, where the golden, hooded eyes of Heimdall kept silent watch over their small group. Tom braved the galactic sphere before him and stood at the end of what seemed to be the very universe, toeing the edge of the Bifrost’s gleaming floor and looking down at the innumerable stars dancing beneath him.
He clutched at his chest, wonder and rapture flowering in his heart, the majesty of what stretched out before him only emphasizing his smallness in the grand scheme of the cosmos.
“A thing of wonder, is it not?”
Tom turned to find Heimdall beside him. The giant guardian was peering at the purple ocean of constellations, too.
“Yes,” Tom breathed, smiling. “It is from this height that you watched over Loki?”
Heimdall nodded. “It is. From here I keep watch over ten trillion souls.”
Tom tried hard not to gape, snapping his mouth shut at the last moment. But his eyes widened at what Heimdall had said. It seemed entirely impossible.
“Our mother and protector,” Heimdall mused, smiling slowly, eyes still on the yawning sky before them. Tom was unsure of whom or what he spoke, but he felt he was beginning to understand.
After their return to the palace, bathing and dressing for a quiet dinner with Frigga, Thor, and Odin, Loki and Tom fell into bed, exhausted.
They would leave for earth the next day.
As much as Tom had been in awe of Asgard and its gleaming lakes and waterfalls, its golden towers and thrumming luminescence, Tom was ready for home. Back to the quiet life he and Loki led in London, the small cafes and the bookshops and the homemade dinners and whispered words of poetry, the evening rainfalls and misty windows.
Snug under the blankets, Tom bent easily beneath Loki’s gentler touch, wandering lips and shallow thrusts. Spooning him from behind, Loki kept Tom at the brink for so long that Tom lost track of all time, mumbling incoherently, his hands fighting Loki’s considerable strength weakly, struggling to keep his eyes from falling shut in his stupor. Taking hold of his wrists and fastening them to his chest, Loki held him immobile, breathing on his neck sweet murmurs.
Granting mercy at long last, Loki let him fall over that abyss, Tom spilling onto the sheets with a grateful, broken sob.
They slept tangled together, Tom waking once during the night, eyes settled warily on the darkened room, the fire in the hearth burned low to glowing embers. Loki, clinging close, slept on.
The following morning found them all gathered in the Bifrost. Loki and Thor were speaking privately by the open window on the far side of the room, the window through which Heimdall kept watch over all. Tom observed them, their tall silhouettes, Thor’s big hand on Loki’s shoulder, both bent slightly toward the other, falling into what seemed to Tom a pattern of confidence, one perhaps newly remembered after so long a separation.
Frigga stepped up to him. “You should have seen them as children,” she said quietly, her eyes softening on her sons.
“A handful, I figure,” Tom replied, crossing his arms.
She laughed. “Yes, quite. My boys.” She sighed. “My moons, I called them. It wasn’t until after Loki was…gone…that I noticed the immense absence of his light. As much as Thor grew into the great man and leader he is today, my sky was considerably darker without my second moon.”
Tom touched her arm gently. “I truly think this won’t be our last visit to Asgard. I have a feeling in my heart that we will be here more often. I sense something…shifting in him. A change about to form,” he said, eyeing Loki across the way, nodding at something Thor was saying.
“You will be back, Thomas,” Frigga said. “I know it.” She winked at him and went to stand beside Odin, who was speaking with Heimdall.
There were embraces and kisses and lingering hands, but Loki and Tom were finally braced to make the journey home. He and Tom looked back once more at the others. They stood tall and golden, saddened, already anticipating their next visit.
Taking his hand, Loki looked at Tom. “Ready?”
Tom nodded and held tight to his arm, before they were shooting across space and time, landing on solid ground in their backyard in London, a scarred circle of earth their place mark for the future.
**
60 years later
The pews near the front of the church were full of weeping mourners, elderly friends and family of the departed.
A few people glanced their way as they took their seats toward the back, curious as to the eerily similar appearances of the gentlemen, one raven haired, the other blond.
Sitting, Loki took Tom’s hand and glanced at the pamphlet of more information about the deceased, before placing it on the seat next to him.
“She was a great lady,” Tom whispered. Loki hummed his agreement.
When he left the firm a few years after his and Loki’s return from Asgard, his secretary Emily kept their friendship going with emails and picnics, holiday and birthday parties. When she finally met Loki at an office Christmas party, she was graceful enough to hide her surprise at their similarities, and never mentioned it once in their long friendship. She often sent Tom home with clear-wrapped goodies baked in her kitchen for Loki, banana nut muffins, pumpkin bread, and snicker doodle cookies.
“I half expect you’ll leave me for her now,” Tom mused as Loki bit into yet another pastry, eyes fluttering closed. “Goodness, it’s worse than pizza with you.” Loki tossed him a sharp glare.
Tom and Loki were there to congratulate her on her marriage and the immediate birth of her twin sons. They babysat occasionally, Loki surprising Tom with how affectionate he was with the children, taking their wriggling bodies and blowing raspberries on their soft bellies, their gurgled laughter filling the flat. He would let their chubby hands crawl through his black hair, accepting their bow-shaped kisses on the sharp edge of his jawline. Tom would stare from his position at the doorway, a hot bottle of milk in one hand, a blue blanket in the other, his heart clenching with a desire he never thought was possible before.
It was to Tom’s great shame that he had to withdraw all communication with Emily and her boys after it was obvious that she was aging and he and Loki weren’t.
In fact, they had to be careful with nearly every part of their daily life, putting the house up for sale, living in different parts of the world, following a path of least recognition. Tom was under the suspicion that Loki put some sort of spell on the house, however, because it never sold. He eventually withdrew it from the market and let it sit alone and empty while they were away.
“They probably don’t even remember us,” Loki whispered, drawing Tom from his thoughts. Loki’s eyes were on Emily’s two sons, both grown and with their own families.
“No,” Tom agreed sadly.
They sat through the service, but as everyone began to pile into the waiting cars, Tom pulled Loki across the green lawns and toward their own car. “I’d like to leave now,” he said.
Loki glanced at the disappearing line of vehicles. “You don’t want to attend the burial?”
“No,” Tom said, stopping in the shade cast by the church’s bell tower, aiming his face at the sky, where the bright noon sun was vaguely blotted out by the smoke from bombs going off near the coastline. There was civil unrest in the country, for reasons Tom was too tired to figure out. They’d only returned to London for the funeral. There was nothing else keeping him there, save sentiment.
His London.
Loki stepped close, concern written on his face, the dark brows drawn together. “Are you alright?”
Tom sighed and smiled. “Yes. But I’d like to take my books and my journals and my tea set and my favorite black jumper and grey scarf, and I’d like to go to Asgard now.”
Loki took his elbow. “Love, are you sure?”
“Yes. This earth…Midgard is no longer the same. I can’t identify with it anymore. Emily was, I think, the last thing holding me here.”
Loki nodded, as if he too, had sensed the same thing. “’Let us go then, you and I…’”
Tom nearly collapsed from his despair, falling against Loki’s chest. “Oh, god. Prufrock. You’re going to make me cry, Loki.”
“No, my love,” Loki said quickly, wrapping Tom close, cheeks pressed tightly together. “You will dance. And you will laugh. And you will love. Because it is in the very fabric of your being to do so. Come.”
In the blink of an eye, they were back in their house, a fine layer of dust covering every surface, every piece of furniture. Within seconds, Loki had Tom’s requested items packed away and stacked next to them in boxes.
Standing once again on the barren, scarred piece of earth in the backyard, Tom shook from barely suppressed nerves. He stared up at their house, their home for so many years, abandoned. As often as they had visited Asgard over the years, he felt a sense of finality to this next trip, a choice not easily undone.
Nor would he wish it to be. He was ready. Even if he did feel a small panic.
“We can come back? For short visits?” he asked, looking into Loki’s eyes. “To purchase new books? And to check on the state of things? To check on…London?”
“Do not be afraid, my lion,” Loki whispered, lips at Tom’s temple. “We will come whenever you ask.’You are marvelous. The gods await to delight in you.’”
“Bukowski,” Tom said with a relieved laugh, as he and Loki and their few belongings were hauled into the burning sky, and away, to home.
**Epilogue**
“Thomas,” Loki called from the bath.
“At the balcony,” he heard.
Loki slid a robe over his naked body and walked out to lean against Thomas’ back, both gazing out into the vast city of Asgard spread out before them. A fragrant breeze wafted over them.
“Have I ever told you about a certain part of lore from my people?”
Thomas’ brow furrowed. “You’ve hardly told me anything about your people.”
“Ah,” Loki continued. “Well this particular part might interest you greatly.”
Thomas turned in his arms, leaning back against the rail. “Oh. Of course, please tell me.”
Loki swallowed and looked down, licking his lips nervously. “Well, there is a capability of my kind that makes us different from the Aesir.” Apart from the obvious, hideous physicality, Loki thought to himself.
“How so?”
“Well. In my race, there is no difference between male and female. Each of us has the ability to carry a child to term and birth them.”
Tom started. “But how?”
“I do also have female reproductive organs. I’ve just…hidden them.” He felt the distinctive heat of blood rushing to his face.
Thomas’ eyes strayed down, no doubt wondering where exactly Loki had hidden them.
Loki smiled, his confidence growing by the second. He’d wanted to tell Thomas about this for a while now, but was too nervous to follow through. All it took was Emily’s sons to be born for the idea to take root. The buoyant joy on Thomas’ face when they would care for the twins enough to want to realize this desire of Thomas’, if he so wanted.
Thank you, Emily, he whispered in his mind, hoping his gratitude found its way to her, wherever she was.
“Would you…like me to show you? Where they’re hidden?” He stepped closer, leaning down to catch Thomas’ eye. “Would you like to try?” he said softly.
Thomas blinked once at him, blue eyes filling with tears, trembling fingers digging into Loki’s hips, and smiled.
The End.