In which childhood friends decide to explore each other...
Warnings: romantic fluff, smut (18+), penetration, virginity, gender-neutral
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Tonight, the palace smells of peaches and butter, the scent wafting through the walls. It's one of the last peach harvests of the season, the pink, plump fruits overflowing in baskets everywhere you step. The kitchen staff was on their feet the entire day, baking peach slices into everything they could. Pies and muffins and cakes and tarts to dip into hot cups of tea that billow atmospheres of steam.
They don't have peaches like this in Vanaheim.
We're the sister kingdom of Asgard, which means we always travel to Odin's palace during special occasions and harvests for trade. Mother and father converse with Frigga and Odin — Queen and king to queen and king. We travel about twenty times a season, which means we travel a lot. A lot of trading. A lot of parties. A lot of time for princes.
One prince, in particular.
Loki and I haven't always been fond of each other. In fact, we loathed each other in the beginning because we were forced to spend to much time together, stiff in formal dress and made to listen to the numbing drone of adults. We didn't come to like each other until we learned to sneak away. To read in the garden instead, or find a trick to play on Thor, or kiss each other on the cheek and then the lips, when we were absolutely sure that there was no one else watching. But that didn't start until our near-adulthood. Which was only fairly recently.
The smell of peaches makes me sigh. In this part of the corridor it's paired with cinnamon and warm. In the part by the guest chambers I was assigned, it's peaches and cream, the scent cold and scattered with hits of vanilla. I close my eyes and take it all in, the very last of it.
I hear a low chuckle from behind me.
I whip around. "What's so funny?"
Loki grins at me, a black lock fallen in just the right place to frame his brilliant green eyes. He adjusts his tunic. "You being mesmerized by the smell of peaches."
I frown. "I'll have to wait forever to smell them again."
He comes closer, the sounds of his footsteps light against the stone floor. He places a kiss to my forehead, then to my nose. "Your fascination is charming."
My frown melts into a smile. "You seem to have missed my lips." He gives another chuckle before obliging, tilting down now to let our mouths meet, his skin cool and bright. I sigh again in pleasure.
"Wow. You really like peaches."
I chuckle and shake my head, "That one wasn't for the peaches."
A pattering of footsteps begins to echo out from the kitchen, growing toward our little slice of corridor.
"Follow me, Peaches," he tells me, enlacing our fingers and pulling me down the hallway glowing with flickering lamplight, draped in blossomed ivy. He leads me down palace steps, through a courtyard of yellow buttercups, and into a vast, empty library.
With a wave of his hand, Loki illuminates the rows of books, torches whipping up with flame. He takes me into the labyrinth of paper and runs his hands along the spines, sowing over and over until...
He stops at a large green volume of Midgardian texts. Some author named Shakespeare. He presses the book inward and it sinks, a couple of clicks popping until the shelf unlocks, paving an opening.
"After you, darling," Loki mutters into my ear, a cocky smile laced across his lips.
"Loki, what in Odin's name..."
His fingers trace over my shoulder, "Just trust me." He holds out his hand and I watch it for a moment before finally taking it, placing a kiss in the center of his palm.
We embark down a long, fairly lit hallway with no windows but gas lamps to light the way. Loki swings my hand as we walk, our steps echoing out against the brick walls.
He begins a story. "Do you remember that time when we—"
"—used a metamorphosis spell to look like each other for the day and nobody noticed?"
Loki bursts out into laughter and I join him, the sounds harmonizing together in the space. "Yes. I often think of that day."
"Why is that?"
"Because it's proof that out of everyone in the realms, we will always know each other best. Our mannerisms. Our hopes. Our faults."
I mock a scoff, "You, the Prince of Asgard, have faults? Well this is the first I'm hearing of this."
He replies with a devilish laugh, "You better believe it, Peaches."
"It's not like you tried to cut my hair upon our second meeting or anything of that sort."
"Hey. That was before I was proficient in magic. I would never execute a prank of my brother's idiotic caliber now." I shake my head at him and he adds, "Anyway, you returned the favor with your chicken stunt."
I laugh so hard I clutch at the aches in my sides. "Oh! They were fluttering all over your chambers! You had feathers over your garments for days."
"I heard you were forced to help your servants for four weeks after that."
"I was. And, oh, it was so worth it."
We reach a wooden door, rounded at the top. He produces a brass key from his tunic and unlocks it, the door parting to reveal a circular room glowing with moonlight, the walls consumed by big windows and the ceiling made entirely of glass. When I look out I can see all of Asgard glimmering. When I look up I can see the stars, the streaks of comets shooting off toward Vanaheim. Toward home.
I wonder if I'll be able to see Asgard in the distance once I leave here forever. Well, a mortal forever. Which is approximately an awful and painful long while in immortal time. I won't return until I'm good and grown and fully mature and able to see the future, as everyone from Vanaheim can. The ability doesn't develop until you're fully mature. Then you're sent off to be trained by the elders in an isolated school in the realm. By the time I'm out I'll be the rightful heir to Vanaheim. I'll be one of Asgard's most valued allies, as my parents keep telling me.
And I'll be a faint imprint on the glass of Loki's memory.
I told Loki all of this my last visit. I told him I was only two moons away from the visions beginning. He told me not to speak about it anymore. He asked me to pretend as if I'm always going to come back. But now it's hard to pretend. Now I'm looking up at the moon full and swollen in the center of the ceiling and trying to find a smile.
"What is this place?" I question, stepping over a plush rug of ornate designs, over silk pillows scattered across the floor and chaise lounges draped with cashmere blankets.
"My mother gifted me the room when I was young for one of my birthdays. She's the only other person who knows about it." He laughs and it's low, burdened with pity. "She's always trying to make up for things my father does. All the little ways he favors my brother over me."
My fingers find the side of his face and trace down the side. Loki leans into the touch. "Odin tends to get caught up in all the ceremonial things. I can see it in his face, though. He loves and honors you."
He scoffs, "Just not as much as Thor."
My thumb brushes a black lock out of his eye. "Then I'll love and honor you twice as much."
His breath hitches. "You love me?"
I stare him down, so unashamed. "Yes. I love you." The green of his eyes finds something the stars have also found. A certain depth and a certain promise of eternity. Even though I know the clock is ticking. I know in the morning I'll be going.
The thought drifts from my mind as he replies, "I love you." He pulls me to him and confesses between kisses peppered across my lips. "So much. I love you so much it terrifies me."
He explores along my neck, traveling up and down it like it's a horizon, smooth and vallied. A wave of warmth and a sparkling feeling wash over the back of my head. I let out an uncontrollable moan, like I did with the peaches. Only now, it comes from further back in my throat. It's pulled from my vocal cords and I square his shoulders, guiding him away.
"What is it?" he asks, scared he did something wrong. Something too far.
"I want you," I tell him. My voice catches as I add, "Before I go away."
He stumbles over his words, which I have only heard him do seldom times. He shakes his head, eyes tracing the patterns of the carpet. "I...Are you sure? Are you sure you want...me?"
I lift his chin and his gaze is glossy. "What's not to want?"
He gives a small laugh that ends in a pained frown, "I could name a few things."
I take him by the shoulders and pull him to my chest. He's stunned for a moment but eventually melts into the embrace, pulling me back, craving the touch. "I don't know why you're always so hard on yourself," I whisper. "I don't know why you always believe you deserve to suffer and shrink away from affection."
Loki holds my hands, his palms hot but the tips of his fingers cold and numb like snow. "I don't always believe that. I don't. I just...I want you to be sure about choosing me. I don't want you to regret..." He can't find the will to finish the sentence.
"I choose you, Loki, just as you are. No disclaimers or forewarnings needed. I want you...as long as you want me too."
He presses our lips together. "I want you." They collide again and we slump down to the floor, his body hovering over mine. "I want you so badly that I..." His face lifts away from mine.
"That you what?" I ask.
"I've wanted you so badly...for so long...that I've never..." He takes a breath. "Whenever the opportunity came up to do this, I always turned it down. Because I've only wanted you. I've had this fantasy that you would be the first."
My thumb traces his bottom lip. "I've never been with anyone either."
I can feel his heartbeat quicken. "Will I hurt you?" he asks. "I've heard that the first time always hurts on the other end. I've heard rumors about tearing and blood and the last thing I want is to hurt you."
I shake my head and rub my fingers through his hair. "No. No. Those are all myths. It doesn't work like that. It shouldn't hurt the first time. But I'll tell you if something doesn't feel right, okay?" I kiss his cheek. "You said it yourself. Out of everyone in the realms, we know each other best. So let's just explore one another a little further." He nods in response, returning to the marks he made before along my neck.
His laugh vibrates my skin. "You smell like peaches."
I laugh too. "Shhh. I was wading in the smell all day." I reach for the hem of his tunic and guide it up and over his head.
"I love you," he whispers. "I...ohhh." He's cut off by a moan as I tend to his torso, my warm hands sliding down his smooth skin and my mouth making a pathway down the valley of his abdomen. I flip him over, straddling him and I feel his member grow beneath me, straining against his breeches. A quick undo of his belt and his fly makes him grow even harder, straining against his undergarments.
I fully undress him, moving down to his throbbing member, dripping with pre-cum, translucent and white. I run my tongue along his length, a moan ripped from his throat. His lips part for my name, which slips out so delicately but so clear, his eyes lidded as his head tilts back. We go like this more a few moments more before he stops me with his hands in my hair, our bodies fumbling as he moves over me.
His fingers find the fastenings of my garments. "May I?"
I smirk. "Mm. I wish you would." He practically rips off my clothing at my word, giving no heed as his lips ravage my body, discovering every inch of skin. My breath ebbs and flows and hitches when he touches parts that have never been touched by another. And my shoulders melt when he refinds familiar places, like the crook of my neck and the length of my thigh.
"Loki," I sigh. "Loki, I..." I'm cut off by a moan. I start to squirm beneath him.
"What is it? Are you alright?"
I grip onto his shoulders. "Loki, please take me. Take me, please. Now." The request comes from somewhere deep inside, somewhere instinctual and yearning. I hand him the proper protection and he prepares. He groans and he nods and his raven hair falls into his face as he steadies my hips, his tip meeting my pulsing entrance. The moonlight frames his locks in blue, a beam catching the crease of his cheek. I look back at him and I mumble in a pleasure-filled dazed, "You're beautiful."
"You're everything," he tells me, a caress to my cheek before pushing inside of me. The feeling is raw and a bit uncomfortable at first and then bright with pleasure as we make adjustments. "How does this feel?" he asks.
"Mmm. So good. You can start moving. Please start moving."
He obliges with a smile, slow to begin. He steadies himself against the floor, our bodies trying to find the same rhythm. We find it not before long. I admire the toned curl of his torso as he leans over me, picking up the pace. The movement becomes quicker as it fills with need, pounding over and over again, the feeling so full and complete and intoxicating.
"You feel so good," he cries. He grips the rug on either side of me. "Damn, you feel so good." I tug on his hair and a whimper leaves my mouth, my fingernails digging into him as I pull him as close as he can get, in as far as he can go.
"Loki!" I gasp. "I'm...I'm close."
He grits his teeth, "Mm. I know. I can feel you tightening. Cum for me. Cum, darling. You're alright. I've got you."
A couple pounds more builds up the heat in my chest, up and up and hotter and hotter until it seeps from between my legs, spurting out in quick jerks and a sparkling wave of euphoria. Loki is quick to follow, finishing and then pausing against me to kiss my lips. He pulls out and then lies beside me, pulling me against his chest as he whispers, "I love you. I know you have to go but I won't stop. I won't stop loving you, even while you're away."
I hold him tighter. "I like your plan to pretend. Let's pretend like I'm returning with the next moon. With the harvest festival and the lanterns and—"
"The yellow garment your mother always makes you wear," he states, fingers wrapping around mine.
I give a small laugh, "Yes. That awful yellow thing."
"I think you look rather charming in it."
"You're a liar but I love you."
We take the next few minutes to rest and to savor each other. We stare up at the glare of the glass ceiling and the stars beyond it, at the realms dancing and glimmering in the night, making us feel all at once so small here and yet like we're the only ones that exist. It's in these moments that I get my first vision of the future. I am old and I am gray and I am staring in the mirror with a smile. A man that is old and gray too sneaks up from behind and snakes his hands around my waist. And Loki kisses me, battle scars and wrinkles across our bodies. Loki kisses me and I know not where we are or how we ended up there.
Only that we are together.