There is a short, quick breath when Loki's tongue touches a place where blood stains his skin, yet wet and crimson. He seems to know every movement of his brother's body, every small shift and breath, to almost know his intent before he acts: an intimacy that is beyond even that which they shared when they were easy with one another, when they were yet ignorant of the truth of their parentage and the affection of brothers came as simply as breathing. Yet even then, Thor had not been within Loki's mind. He had not joined to him body and soul, so that they moved as one, thought as one, even when they thought apart—an entity which was capable, somehow, of retaining an awareness of its two halves, that they could speak and argue with one another even as they acted in perfect accord. Three parts, if one counted Mjolnir: but no, Mjolnir was the skin, and Thor and Loki the spirit which gave it animation.
His fingers tangle in Loki's hair in response. He does not even think of the action, or of how close their bodies, at least not in any way as to cause consternation; it is as though no way in which he touches Loki now could be wrong, when his brother is as much a part of him as blood and bone. He wants to linger long, long in that awareness. Now his hand cups Loki's chin, forcing his long white throat to arch, and Thor admires the beauty and tension of it as he takes back the bottle and has himself a long drink, followed by a quick and sweet taste of his brother's mouth. It is as nothing to touch him so, to steal the taste of his lips. All is his, all of Loki belongs between his hands; there is such perfection in it as to make him brim over with joy.
"How are you to head research and to pilot Mjolnir with me, all at once?" His voice is subsumed with tenderness, his hands fitting themselves to intimate places across Loki's body. "You could not; there is training, and drills, and exercises to strengthen the neural bond, even without Kaiju attacks to occupy our time." His mouth brushes Loki's ear. "I won't have your attentions divided, brother."
He teases, yet there is a true degree of selfish possessiveness within him: having now Loki back, having claimed him as his partner, the only one to whom he will trust his Jaeger and half his mind and heart besides, he cannot and will not give him up to be preoccupied by any other task. Loki is his, and his alone.
:>b
His fingers tangle in Loki's hair in response. He does not even think of the action, or of how close their bodies, at least not in any way as to cause consternation; it is as though no way in which he touches Loki now could be wrong, when his brother is as much a part of him as blood and bone. He wants to linger long, long in that awareness. Now his hand cups Loki's chin, forcing his long white throat to arch, and Thor admires the beauty and tension of it as he takes back the bottle and has himself a long drink, followed by a quick and sweet taste of his brother's mouth. It is as nothing to touch him so, to steal the taste of his lips. All is his, all of Loki belongs between his hands; there is such perfection in it as to make him brim over with joy.
"How are you to head research and to pilot Mjolnir with me, all at once?" His voice is subsumed with tenderness, his hands fitting themselves to intimate places across Loki's body. "You could not; there is training, and drills, and exercises to strengthen the neural bond, even without Kaiju attacks to occupy our time." His mouth brushes Loki's ear. "I won't have your attentions divided, brother."
He teases, yet there is a true degree of selfish possessiveness within him: having now Loki back, having claimed him as his partner, the only one to whom he will trust his Jaeger and half his mind and heart besides, he cannot and will not give him up to be preoccupied by any other task. Loki is his, and his alone.