[ He watches with an open and wanting gaze as Loki strips his garments, opening furs and robes to bear himself to Thor's eyes, and he feels the heat in his skin deepening, the true taste of lust creeping onto his tongue so that his mouth waters for want of him. They have been lovers, they have known one another's bodies with the starkest intimacy and given one another warmth and joy, but Thor had not until now surrendered himself, had not offered his own body in yielding to Loki's. Yet here he has seen the power and beauty of the winter king; here all is his dominion, his sovereignty, and so Thor is his, so Thor desires nothing more than to be his, to live for the cold touch of winter's lips.
So he spreads apart his thighs, one of his hands lifting above his head to grasp the pillow; so he braces himself, yet nothing can quite prepare him for the swift slick press of Loki's fingers, his breath hitching at the stretch and ache of his tender flesh. His lover's fingers stroke within, sliding deep, withdrawing and sliding deep again, and Thor's breast heaves with the sudden swiftness of his breath, his body throbs at this unexpected source of heat in the midst of the cold winter. His eyes are wide pools of vibrant blue beneath the gold frost of their lashes, looking at Loki in wonder, his lips parted. ]
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So he spreads apart his thighs, one of his hands lifting above his head to grasp the pillow; so he braces himself, yet nothing can quite prepare him for the swift slick press of Loki's fingers, his breath hitching at the stretch and ache of his tender flesh. His lover's fingers stroke within, sliding deep, withdrawing and sliding deep again, and Thor's breast heaves with the sudden swiftness of his breath, his body throbs at this unexpected source of heat in the midst of the cold winter. His eyes are wide pools of vibrant blue beneath the gold frost of their lashes, looking at Loki in wonder, his lips parted. ]
What--what vows, my king?