Fic: Fits Like a Glove 2/? (Thor/Tom)
May. 10th, 2012 06:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nicevennAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nicevenn
Beta:nursedarry
Title: Fits Like a Glove 2/?
Pairing: Thor/Tom and possibly combinations of Tom, Thor, Loki, Chris
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Wordcount: 880
Summary: Both Thor and Tom want someone they can't have. Thor comes up with a remedy.
A/N: Written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
norsekink.
Tom
The quality is unsurpassed.
Is it strange that that's the first thought to cross my mind upon finding an unidentified Loki costume in my trailer – not who put it there or why? It's as if on some unconscious level I know the answers to those questions, and the only thing left to do is to admire the fine metal work, supple leather, and rich green fabric. This is definitely not something from the set.
I like this outfit.
As I stand in front of the mirror, admiring this mysterious gift, my phone alerts me of a text message. It's from the same number as before.
Do you like it? Heimdall says it fits you just like it did Loki.
I'm not quite sure how to respond to that, so I type the first thing that comes to mind.
... and what happened to Loki?
What happened to Loki? Clearly I've been working too hard. Some nutter, who has lost touch with reality, has my mobile number and access to my trailer, and I'm engaging him or her in conversation.
He's AOM.
AOM?
Away on Mischief. It's been a while since I saw him last. But now I have you...
It's beginning to get way too hot in this costume. I start to undress as I think of my next reply, but the person on the other end never gives me a chance.
I have a proposal for you.
A thrill runs through me as I read the words. Fans have proposed many things. Dates, marriage, sex slavery... I've heard it all. But this seems different.
And what might that be?
The next message is slow in coming; I wonder if perhaps whoever it is has lost their nerve. But just as I resume the tedious process of taking off the costume – admittedly feeling a pang of disappointment – the phone lights up.
Would I be correct in saying that there's someone whom you greatly desire... someone you can't have?
That's not at all what I was expecting. The memory of the other night at the pub comes rushing at me like water through a broken dam, and it's all I can do not to throw the phone away.
I don't answer. But the message continues:
Loki was my lover, once…
Now there is a great void in my heart where he used to be. Can you understand that? I think you can. I look a lot like him, you know. The one you desire. Or rather, he looks like me.
This is insane.
My fingers tremble as I type.
So what are you proposing?
The response is as prompt as it is shocking.
What I'm proposing, dear brother, is that you leave the straps on those damned sleeves alone and undo your trousers instead.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I can feel the hairs on my arms stand on end. I look around, but to all appearances, I'm alone. Is there a hidden camera, I wonder? The prospect doesn't disturb me nearly as much as it should.
Don't tell me Heimdall is watching... I do wish sarcasm could be better conveyed in writing.
Do not make such jests, brother. You taught me a few tricks, don't you remember?
Oh, right.
I find myself rather uncomfortably aware of my hand resting on my thigh. It wants to do what he – Thor? (the fact that I'm even entertaining the possibility makes me chuckle ) – instructed.
Please?
Suddenly I remember Chris's eyes boring into mine as he says, "Please, can I have my hammer back?" and his fingers touch mine as he wraps them around the handle.
My resistance is broken. The plea sets me working feverishly to release my cock from these trousers.
Thor
It was cruel of Loki to teach me to see him in my mind's eye, and then to conceal himself from my sight when he disappeared. How many years have I spent looking, worrying?
That isn't something I want to think about at the moment, however, because this one wouldn't know how to hide if he wanted to. And right now his hand is moving slowly up and down his beautiful cock. Even there he resembles Loki -- except the curls are lighter.
"Are you touching yourself, too?" he asks.
He's a bright one; he's figured out that he needn't use his phone, that I can hear as well as see him.
I drag my fingers along the hardness in my trousers, hesitant, still clinging to the hope that it would be only Loki and me forever.
"Are you?" the mortal demands, and he sounds like he might stop if I don't tell him what he wants to hear.
Yes.
It isn't a complete lie.
He reads the message on his phone and his eyes flutter closed -- like Loki's always did when I entered him -- and that is the precise moment when I realise that I am lost.
Tbc...
nicevennBeta:
nursedarryTitle: Fits Like a Glove 2/?
Pairing: Thor/Tom and possibly combinations of Tom, Thor, Loki, Chris
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Wordcount: 880
Summary: Both Thor and Tom want someone they can't have. Thor comes up with a remedy.
A/N: Written for this prompt at
norsekink.Tom
The quality is unsurpassed.
Is it strange that that's the first thought to cross my mind upon finding an unidentified Loki costume in my trailer – not who put it there or why? It's as if on some unconscious level I know the answers to those questions, and the only thing left to do is to admire the fine metal work, supple leather, and rich green fabric. This is definitely not something from the set.
I like this outfit.
As I stand in front of the mirror, admiring this mysterious gift, my phone alerts me of a text message. It's from the same number as before.
Do you like it? Heimdall says it fits you just like it did Loki.
I'm not quite sure how to respond to that, so I type the first thing that comes to mind.
... and what happened to Loki?
What happened to Loki? Clearly I've been working too hard. Some nutter, who has lost touch with reality, has my mobile number and access to my trailer, and I'm engaging him or her in conversation.
He's AOM.
AOM?
Away on Mischief. It's been a while since I saw him last. But now I have you...
It's beginning to get way too hot in this costume. I start to undress as I think of my next reply, but the person on the other end never gives me a chance.
I have a proposal for you.
A thrill runs through me as I read the words. Fans have proposed many things. Dates, marriage, sex slavery... I've heard it all. But this seems different.
And what might that be?
The next message is slow in coming; I wonder if perhaps whoever it is has lost their nerve. But just as I resume the tedious process of taking off the costume – admittedly feeling a pang of disappointment – the phone lights up.
Would I be correct in saying that there's someone whom you greatly desire... someone you can't have?
That's not at all what I was expecting. The memory of the other night at the pub comes rushing at me like water through a broken dam, and it's all I can do not to throw the phone away.
I don't answer. But the message continues:
Loki was my lover, once…
Now there is a great void in my heart where he used to be. Can you understand that? I think you can. I look a lot like him, you know. The one you desire. Or rather, he looks like me.
This is insane.
My fingers tremble as I type.
So what are you proposing?
The response is as prompt as it is shocking.
What I'm proposing, dear brother, is that you leave the straps on those damned sleeves alone and undo your trousers instead.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I can feel the hairs on my arms stand on end. I look around, but to all appearances, I'm alone. Is there a hidden camera, I wonder? The prospect doesn't disturb me nearly as much as it should.
Don't tell me Heimdall is watching... I do wish sarcasm could be better conveyed in writing.
Do not make such jests, brother. You taught me a few tricks, don't you remember?
Oh, right.
I find myself rather uncomfortably aware of my hand resting on my thigh. It wants to do what he – Thor? (the fact that I'm even entertaining the possibility makes me chuckle ) – instructed.
Please?
Suddenly I remember Chris's eyes boring into mine as he says, "Please, can I have my hammer back?" and his fingers touch mine as he wraps them around the handle.
My resistance is broken. The plea sets me working feverishly to release my cock from these trousers.
Thor
It was cruel of Loki to teach me to see him in my mind's eye, and then to conceal himself from my sight when he disappeared. How many years have I spent looking, worrying?
That isn't something I want to think about at the moment, however, because this one wouldn't know how to hide if he wanted to. And right now his hand is moving slowly up and down his beautiful cock. Even there he resembles Loki -- except the curls are lighter.
"Are you touching yourself, too?" he asks.
He's a bright one; he's figured out that he needn't use his phone, that I can hear as well as see him.
I drag my fingers along the hardness in my trousers, hesitant, still clinging to the hope that it would be only Loki and me forever.
"Are you?" the mortal demands, and he sounds like he might stop if I don't tell him what he wants to hear.
Yes.
It isn't a complete lie.
He reads the message on his phone and his eyes flutter closed -- like Loki's always did when I entered him -- and that is the precise moment when I realise that I am lost.
Tbc...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-05-10 04:52 pm (UTC)I never of think of slash parings until someone else brings it to my attention.
So.....
You're evil and thank you!!!
*runs off to find more Loki/Thor slash*
That was HOT, by the way. Can't wait to read more!
no subject
Date: 2012-05-10 05:53 pm (UTC)You're welcome. :)
no subject
Date: 2012-05-20 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-20 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-27 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-27 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-27 12:01 pm (UTC)This is great. I generally avoid RPF but this fandom has broken that all to bits. *facepalm*