[ The folly of all beautiful creatures — that they would look upon their own reflection, and fail to see the inevitability of its transience. Loki saw that indulgent folly in Thor the moment he stepped past the borders of his own country, and he mourned then before he could truly rejoice. And the pain has only heightened with each sweet stroke of flesh against flesh, with each soft word spoken and bound between them. As if Loki were a ragged black crow upon the wind, and Thor a glimmer of color fading as the sun dips from the sky: indeed he may revel in the sight now and a moment hence. Yet, as soon as the crown of the sun disappears past the horizon, the sky will return to its moonlit pale, and even Loki will be unable to extricate his own black feathers from the shadows.
The knowledge is a terrible thing, but Loki rises like the dawn of a cold quiet morning, inevitable, unchangeable. He is young, but he has already known many terrible things.
And so even the plea upon Thor's voice does naught to quicken Loki's pace; his hips move like a whisper, his cock dragging gently against the heat and the clutch of Thor within. The pleasure is no trifle, but more than that, it is the ache of Thor beneath him, clasped about him body and heart alike, willingly delivering his powerful strength into the hands of his lesser; that is what drives Loki slowly forward, again, again. ]
It would be no trial to make it so. [ Loki says, his voice a ripple in the air. His hand follows the curve of golden hip and buttock, before sliding in to take Thor's cock in hand, but this time he does not stroke nor tease, but he circles index and thumb about the swollen base, ringing it thus with constraining ice. ] Are we not eternal as the earth and the sky?
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The knowledge is a terrible thing, but Loki rises like the dawn of a cold quiet morning, inevitable, unchangeable. He is young, but he has already known many terrible things.
And so even the plea upon Thor's voice does naught to quicken Loki's pace; his hips move like a whisper, his cock dragging gently against the heat and the clutch of Thor within. The pleasure is no trifle, but more than that, it is the ache of Thor beneath him, clasped about him body and heart alike, willingly delivering his powerful strength into the hands of his lesser; that is what drives Loki slowly forward, again, again. ]
It would be no trial to make it so. [ Loki says, his voice a ripple in the air. His hand follows the curve of golden hip and buttock, before sliding in to take Thor's cock in hand, but this time he does not stroke nor tease, but he circles index and thumb about the swollen base, ringing it thus with constraining ice. ] Are we not eternal as the earth and the sky?