Sorcery and lust

Thor was always proud of his magical abilities, but he was even more proud of his remarkable strength. The firstborn of the rulers of Asgard, caressed by the sun and warmth of the most powerful of the nine realms, he has never experienced any need or shortage. Whatever he wanted, he got it at the same moment. Thor wanted the best horse from Vanaheim? The fastest and strongest was brought to him in a flash. Did he want armour and helmet with wings, forged by skilled dwarves from Svartalfheim? A week later, the armour was in his chambers. He wished to own Mjolnir, a powerful weapon capable of helping his thunder and lightning magic? The Einherjar will turn over all the galaxies, but they will find it and bring it to their prince. Thor is used to getting everything he wants, so when his younger brother grew up and started showing his teeth, he absolutely didn't like it. He wanted to put the upstart in his place, he wanted to make sure that Loki wouldn't look with his green eyes so haughtily, with such superiority, he wanted it to be like in childhood, when Thor released sheaves of sparks from his palms and Loki, amazed, looked with admiration and love. Then it warmed the soul and seemed something self-evident. Thor missed that look now. Of course, this thought was what he had been successfully telling himself over the past few days, trying to hide such an inconvenient truth. It wasn't because of the bruised pride that he wanted his brother to look at him with awe again, not at all. A feeling, terrible, dark, burning, curled up in a ball in the lower abdomen every time Thor looked at the curls of black hair, at the thin nose, at the cheekbones, as if carved out of stone. Every time he caught the gaze of those transparent green eyes on him. Thor couldn't give this feeling a name in any way—and did it exist at all? He doubted it. This feeling scared Thor, and every time he felt that a little more and he would explode, he would do something wrong, would say something wrong, he forced himself to retreat, hide behind a mask of jokes and offensive nicknames. With anxiety in his soul, Thor watched how each time Loki's face darkened, as a sharp, uncovered pain appeared in his eyes, and he became ashamed. But what could he do? To have such feelings for a brother? Thor silently offered prayers to the Gods Founders and thanked them that Heimdall, this all-seeing guardian of the Bifrost, couldn't read minds. How horrified he would be at what was going on in the blond head of the heir to the throne, how his face would be distorted in disgust, with what hatred he would look at Thor then! Thor was sick of such thoughts, too. He was sick of himself, of his rotten essence, of his deep dark desires. He was sick of the fact that he wanted to catch his younger brother, squeezed his thin hands in his palms, and kissed, kissed, kissed. He was sick of the fact that he wanted to cover Loki's body with bites, marks and wanted to show everyone that he, Thor, owned the most beautiful creature in all nine realms. He was sick of the fact that he wanted to spread those long, graceful legs, stood between and... On these thoughts, Thor always interrupted himself, not allowing dreams to carry him far away, to where there will be no turning back. He will definitely not be able to forgive himself after this. So Thor sublimated. He went hunting with friends, tracking down prey for days, and then spilling out all his rage on the unfortunate victims. He was crushing stuffed dummies on the training ground with such anger that even Tyr, the god of war, who had seen a lot in his lifetime, winced and shook his head. Again and again, he cornered Loki, scoffed, mocked and joked about the lack of magic in his younger brother. He joked, forcing a smile, and at the same time, he clenched his fists with such a force that blood drops appeared on his defenceless palms. Loki hated him. That's probably what Thor wanted, isn't it? Humiliations, kicks, pokes, tripping, he did everything so that his younger brother looked at him with hatred burning brightly in his green eyes. He knew for sure that someday the moment would come when his brother's cup of patience would overflow when he would flare up, when he would respond with humiliation for humiliation, blow for blow, insult for insult. Thor had been waiting for this moment, his sternum burning with how much he couldn't wait to look at Loki, beautiful in his primal rage. And finally, when Loki turned sixteen, and magic never appeared in his thin body (and Thor decided that this was a wonderful topic for ridicule), what he had been waiting for for so long finally happened. His cheek burned from the slap, multiplied by magical power, power which was forbidden in Asgard, and Thor suddenly felt everything inside explode with pleasure. He slowly turned his head, buzzing and spinning, peered into his brother's shocked face and broke into a smile. Loki, muttering something very indistinct about the library, hurriedly ran away, and Thor slid down the wall in the very hallway in which he was standing. He exhaled loudly, touching the burned skin with a gasp, and suddenly burst out laughing. He laughed for a long time, hysterically, with sobs, and then suddenly fell silent, staring unseeingly somewhere at the wall. "What are you doing to me, Loki?.." And Loki was doing a lot of things. Thor crept into the library as silently as he could, and for hours, as if fascinated, watched the dangerous, but attractive flames dance on Loki's open palms. He watched, and then locked himself in his chambers and, driven to the edge by this sense of danger and adrenaline, jerked off until his wrists ached. And then he lay staring at the ceiling and hated himself. He should have gone to his mother, told her what his wayward brother was doing, turned him in, punished him for practising dark magic, and sent him away from Asgard. He should have gone to his father, repented and said that he, Thor Odinson, the god of fertility, the lord of thunder and lightning, the firstborn and heir, was no longer worthy of the throne. Ask for punishment. He would like to take the punishment together with Loki. Yes, a good couple would have turned out: the younger prince, exiled from Asgard for the development of fire magic, and the older one, exiled from Asgard for the same fire, only devouring him from the inside and not letting him breathe. Should have… Should have… However, fuck it. He should have shut up and continued to watch, continued to enjoy this dangerous fire in Loki's hands and eyes. Thor watched until it was too late. Until he realised that he was dreaming too much, too mired in his blindness, and his younger brother went too far. Cutting his way through the fire, the one he had admired all these months and years, the one that stirred his blood and made his heart beat faster, Thor thought about what he would do to his rebellious brother when he got to him. The flame shot up from the left, and Thor waved it away as if from an annoying fly, already habitually causing clouds and extinguishing the fire with rain. Loki stood in the centre of the main square of Asgard, surrounded by a ring of crackling, greenish flames, clutching his mother's hand and saying something. Frigga's face was etched with deep grief. "...just brought their deepest fears to life, mother, don't you see? They feared and hated people like me the most, they wanted those who possess dark magic to die. And I took it, and just 'poof!' — killed them myself. Isn't it funny, mother?", his brother reasoned, and their mother's face grew more and more gloomy. It was as if she didn't believe that this man who was standing in front of her was her son. This Loki was so different from the meek and quiet boy whom she had raised in love and care. "Loki, do you think that taking someone else's life is just a funny joke?" the queen asked in a completely doomed way, almost settling on the scorched earth, and Thor realised that he had to intervene. He must do everything so that Loki doesn't utter dangerous words that can put him on the verge between life and death. For his escapade, he will undoubtedly receive punishment, but if he says these words ... he won't get off with one punishment, Odin will take care of it. Thor squeezed Mjolnir in his hand, inhaling deeply and almost fainting from the anticipation bubbling inside. "You've been playing with people's lives long enough, Loki," and in response, the glare of his brother, wild, hating, promising all the tortures of Helheim. And Thor suddenly felt his blood boil, as time stops. Nothing mattered except those fiercely burning eyes opposite. Everything ended up quickly, and instead of a proud man who imagined himself as the lord of the nine realms, a confused, crushed boy sat in front of Thor in the mud. And the heir of Asgard suddenly remembered with surprise that Loki has barely passed a thousand years, and he was just a boy. He was overwhelmed by some unimaginable tenderness, but he didn't give himself a minute to think, not a minute to regret. He firmly grabbed his brother's forearm, exhausted by the loss of magic, and dragged him to the palace. Thor would demand from his father that Loki's punishment be entrusted to him. And he would make sure of it.