Chapter Text
They were walking in circles—not literally, of course, but the Grandmaster was leading them through the brightly colored corridors with no apparent destination in mind. (The whole time chattering away about some drama between Praxid and Bran—two Xandarians who Loki was fairly certain where actually named Prad and Braxin.) From what Loki could tell there was no pattern to the path they walked, but he was certain it wasn’t truly aimless.
Nothing with the Grandmaster ever was.
This had to be a test of some kind. He only needed to figure out what it was before they failed it. A part had to involve baiting Thor. If it didn’t, the Grandmaster wouldn’t be running his fingers up and down Loki’s spine as they walked, occasionally—and deliberately—dipping lower. Thor, for his part, was staying silent as he trailed behind them.
After a few more minutes of walking, the Grandmaster stopped abruptly. “You’re doing it again.”
The displeasure in the Grandmaster’s voice was clear, and Loki’s mind instantly flitted through the options of what he was doing wrong. He had been compliant and docile—following the Grandmaster’s lead and leaning into his touch with an easy calm. It was faked, of course, but he was convincing. He had always been convincing before—it had been enough before. But before there had been no Thor to take into account—no Thor to make up for.
“Doing what?”
“That thing you always do.”
Loki furrowed his brow.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s adorable.”
Using the hand that wasn’t cupping his ass, the Grandmaster massaged two of his fingers over Loki’s brow until he relaxed it. Then he ran his fingers down over his nose and against pressed them his lips—Loki parted them obediently (ignoring the way he knew Thor had to be looking at him) and sucked the Grandmaster’s fingers into his mouth.
“But it must be so exhausting.” Removing his fingers, the Grandmaster gently wiped the front of them on one of Loki’s cheeks and the back on the other—it felt like he was being marked. “Come.”
The room they were led into wasn’t large, but it was big enough to hold more than just the three of them. His stomach knotted and he hid a grimace. One glance at Thor, who was (not surprisingly) failing to hide his own frown, told Loki he was feeling the same thing.
The room had table with a single glass of something green and swirling on it plus four couches arranged in a circle—the Grandmaster sat on the first one. He had barely started to move his legs apart before Loki was walking forward to kneel between them.
“No, Lo-Lo, not on the ground. You should be comfortable.” The Grandmaster held out a pillow and Loki reached for it, but his hand was swatted away. “Let, Sparkles, get it for you. It’s the least he can do.”
Loki fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Comfortable? Yes. This was about his comfort. It was so comfortable to have his brother set the stage for his degradation—comfortable to watch Thor settle himself on the couch next to the man whose cock would be thrust down his throat in a matter of minutes.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect, Grandmaster.” He sunk to knees with as much grace as he could muster. “You’re always so considerate.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
Loki was right. This was getting easier—no, easier was the wrong word. Easy implied that it no longer caused him discomfort. Manageable was more accurate. Thor was becoming more able to manage his anger—to keep it tied up in what felt like a permanent knot in his stomach instead of having it burst out at the slightest provocation.
(Because that’s what Loki being forced into giving the Grandmaster a blowjob had become—a slight provocation.)
Thor tensed as he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the Grandmaster threading his fingers through Loki’s hair—taking control of Loki as if he was nothing more than a thing to be used.
Ignore it.
It was Loki’s voice in his head. Sometimes the voice was exasperated other times it was angry or pleading, but it was always Loki telling him what to do—playing the role of his advisor. It was natural in its own way—what everyone had always expected they would grow up to become. Thor would be king and Loki would be at his side as his advisor and confidant.
(And here they were—Thor was king and Loki was at his side. On his knees. Gagging as the Grandmaster—)
Whatever I’m doing with him, you have to ignore it.
Loki had said those words, or variations thereof, dozens of times during their discussions and arguments about their present situation. At first, when Loki would phrase it like that—like he was making a choice—Thor would push back and make him admit that he wasn’t choosing or allowing any of this. And Loki would amend his statement—not out of agreement but merely to placate him. So Thor did as Loki asked. He ignored it.
He stared off at a point on the wall across the room and concentrated on the sound of his own breathing instead of the noises next to him. He wouldn’t think of any of it—not what was happening right now in that moment nor what would happen next. Nothing existed but the garish orange and white paint on the walls and the sounds of his own breathing.
(Yet he couldn’t ignore the movement on the couch—the vibrations that traveled through the cushions as the Grandmaster started thrusting in earnest and Loki—Loki—Loki—)
I can handle it, Thor. I don’t need you to protect me.
When the Grandmaster finished, he kept Loki’s head pressed against his thigh. A part of Loki wanted to pull away and wipe his face, but instead he rested his weight on his heels, closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch. And for a few blessed minutes he was able to shut everything out—nothing existed except the fingers gently carding through his hair and the warmth of Grandmaster’s skin.
“Do you think he realizes it—all that you do for him?”
Loki said nothing. No answer was really expected, but the question alone was enough to pull him out of that place of fragile peace.
“Sometimes I think Sparkles doesn’t even pay attention—doesn’t see how you are always think-think-thinking on his behalf.” The Grandmaster tapped on his head with each ‘think’ and kept tapping until Loki opened his eyes to look up at him. “Like you’re the only one capable of thinking—as if you can out-think anyone.”
He didn’t need the Grandmaster tugging on his hair for emphasis to catch the point. The Grandmaster had seen through his attempts to outthink and out maneuver him (which was unsurprising given that most had been little more than thinly-veiled efforts of damage control in response to Thor’s actions). This was all about Loki and his failure to handle the situation.
“Which is why you’re going to take a break from thinking tonight—how does that sound?”
He didn’t let himself hesitate. “That sounds wonderful.”
“So agreeable—I love that about you.”
Loki closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and tried to relax. This wouldn’t be the worst. He’d had the Grandmaster’s concoctions before—more times than he could count. Some were distasteful but the effects of others he had enjoyed—even when Thor had been watching.
(It had been a relief to succumb to the haze of drugs and not think about anything but seeking pleasure—although once that drug faded, he had felt the full weight of his depravity in the overwhelming look of concern he had received from Thor when they returned to their room.)
“Hmm.”
At the disapproving noise, Loki blinked his eyes open and gave the Grandmaster an apologetic look. The Grandmaster responded with what could have been an indulgent smile if it had met his eyes. Instead of speaking, he nudged Loki’s head off his thigh and gestured at his lap before turning to Thor. Loki set about tucking the Grandmaster back into his robes while trying to pretend that there wasn’t a part of him that was hurt by the Grandmaster ignoring him for Thor.
“Now, Sparkles, while your brother isn’t thinking, you and I will play a little game.” The Grandmaster patted Thor’s leg. “How does that sound?”
“What kind of game?” Thor asked, sounding suspicious but not openly antagonistic.
“If I told you, then that would ruin the fun.”
“Hard to play if I don’t know the rules.”
“Well, that’s the game—it ends when you figure them out.”
With a flourish, he waved his hand at the wall and a timer appeared in neon colors. 60 minutes. Loki bit the inside of his cheek and tried to focus on the pain instead of thinking how much could happen in 60 minutes.
“Think of it as an experiment to see if you’re as clever as your brother,” the Grandmaster continued with a little too much glee. “When you follow the rules, the timer counts down to zero and the game is over—but if you don’t follow the rules then more time goes on the clock. It’s simple really.”
From the pace of Thor’s breathing alone, Loki could tell that his brother was ready to push back and to challenge, so he spoke instead. “And what will I do?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.” The Grandmaster stood up and then helped Loki do the same. He took his hand and guided him to a settee. “You just sit here and enjoy yourself.”
Loki forced himself to smile despite the clear threat.
“Sparkles, be a dear, get that for your brother.”
Thor stalked to the table and picked up the glass with deep green liquid—on closer inspection the swirling color within it was black. His colors, Loki thought absently, as he reached to take the glass from Thor.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the Grandmaster scolded and Loki’s hand froze mid-air. “No need to think and no need to tax yourself either. Let your brother take care of you.”
Loki let his hand drop and, after a moment and a gesture from the Grandmaster, Thor took a half-step forward and somewhat clumsily held the glass to Loki’s lips. Loki could feel the drying saliva and spend on his chin and knew Thor could see it all in vivid detail. It was humiliating. He forced those feelings aside and parted his lips—silently urging Thor to tilt the glass further so that he could swallow the too sweet liquid as quickly as possible.
As if drinking it faster would end this sooner.
He wondered what the effects would be this time—it would lower his inhibitions, obviously, but there would be another layer. The Grandmaster’s drugs could do so many things and Loki’s stomach knotted around the liquid in it as he considered the possibilities. Not unconscious—can’t learn a lesson that way (well, at least this particular lesson). The usual aphrodisiac ones were probably out—they might make him out of his mind with need, but they technically never prevented him from thinking.
“You’re doing it again, sweetheart.”
Loki ducked his head. “Sorry, Grandmaster.”
“Tonight, will be good for you—both of you.” He patted Thor’s cheek before giving Loki a little wave. “I’ll be back in a bit. Menus to confirm, guests to coral, you know how it is.”
Thor watched Loki scrub his face with the sleeve of his tunic the moment the Grandmaster was out of the room. “Are you...”
“Nothing so far.” Loki scowled in the direction of the timer on the wall and Thor flinched even though his brother’s anger wasn’t directed at him (at least not yet—somehow Thor always managed to say the wrong thing leading Loki to lash out). “I doubt it will be long.”
“What do you think...?”
“I’m not supposed to think, remember?” Loki snapped as he got to his feet so he could pace. “You’ll have to figure this one out without me. Whatever that was—” he paused to gesture wildly at the empty glass that was still in Thor’s hand. “I’m certain it will render me incapable of higher thought.”
“Which is why I want your opinion now.”
“Because Norns forbid you come up with a plan yourself!”
There was the anger. Even though Thor expected it, it still stung and triggered the urge to argue back. He turned to place the empty glass to the table, taking the moment to calm himself. Fighting would get them nowhere. Schooling his face to a neutral expression, he turned back around.
“Loki...”
“We’ve been here for weeks, Thor,” Loki cut him off but didn’t stop pacing. “You must have some idea how this works.”
“My way never works—you’re better at this than me.”
“Clearly, I’m not.”
“You are.”
This got Loki to stop moving and something dark flashed in his eyes. “Of course, it took this to get you to compliment me.” He gestured at the pillow on the ground. “Because that is the only way I can be better than you.”
“You’re twisting my words,” Thor couldn’t keep the growl of frustration from his voice. “And baiting me into an argument.”
“Something else I’m good at.”
“I didn’t mean…”
Loki waved off the rest of his sentence and let the tension in his shoulders drop. Thor hoped it meant he was letting go of his anger and not just a product of the drug.
“This isn’t about you—it never is. It’s about me.”
Thor gave Loki a worried look. The content of the statement itself wasn’t surprising—he had read the thought in Loki’s eyes on more than one occasion—but he didn’t expect Loki to verbalize it.
“That’s not the drug talking, if that’s your concern.” Loki had clearly caught his look and shrugged. “Or at least I don’t think it is. Even I can tire of maintaining a pretense after a time. Unless, of course, the drug is only making me think I have tired of the pretense.” He sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps I’m over thinking.”
“Perhaps?” Thor couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and Loki gave him an annoyed look that was (for once) more amused than scathing. “You wouldn’t be Loki if you didn’t over think.”
“I suppose not. And the fact that I’m capable of overthinking means that the drug has not taken effect.”
The ‘yet’ hung unspoken between them as the brief moment of normalcy between them faded.
“Just let whatever he wants happen,” Loki said, breaking the silence. “Ignore it, don’t threaten, and then it will be over. We can face whatever fresh hel he dreams up tomorrow.”
It took everything in him to maintain eye contact with Loki as he spoke. “And if I make it worse?”
“You won’t.”
“I have before.”
“Not intentionally.”
Thor hadn’t truly expected a denial, but a part of him had hoped that Loki would argue with him—tell him was wrong and assure him that his actions didn’t carry the consequences he knew they did. It would have been a lie but a comforting one nonetheless. He turned away so Loki couldn’t see his face—so Loki wouldn’t think that Thor was the one who needed comfort.
“I know you’re trying.”
Of course Loki had seen it—or sensed it. He was always more perceptive than Thor ever was—it made him a far better brother than he deserved.
“Just tell me what to do,” he pleaded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.
“You’ll figure something out, Thor, you always do.”
Thor had heard that phrase before—or variations of it—dozens of times from Loki. Usually the tone was biting or tinged with mocking sarcasm, but this was different. It reminded him of when they were younger—long before Sakaar and before everything else that had come between them—when they had been inseparable. When Loki had thought Thor could solve any problem.
His stomach sank. This wasn’t real.
Thor turned and, sure enough, Loki was looking at him with a kind of open affection that was unnatural given the circumstances. A part of Thor wanted to cling to it—to believe that underneath it all that Loki still felt this way about him—but another part of him whispered that it was a lie. It was only the drug. Loki would never truly look at him like this—not after everything that had passed between them on Sakaar—not after what Thor had done.
“I trust you.”
Thor fought back a sob upon hearing those words—he didn’t deserve that trust (as much as it warmed something in his core to hear them). Stepping forward, Thor cupped Loki’s neck and struggled to find the words. None came. Instead, he brushed his thumb along Loki’s jaw and pressed their foreheads together as if the contact could convey what he could not. Loki relaxed into his touch and Thor savored it.
All too soon, the door opened and the Grandmaster swanned in.
Thor moved back immediately and Loki looked at him in confusion for a moment before stepping back himself.
“Lo-Lo, what are you doing up? You are meant to be relaxing.” The Grandmaster wagged his finger at Loki as if scolding before running it down Loki’s chest. “Although I can’t really blame Sparkles, because you are just delectable.”
Thor didn’t move and Loki stayed still as well—or at least mostly. The index finger of his right hand was scratching against the side of his thumb. The nervous tick was familiar, but Thor had never seen him do it in front of the Grandmaster.
“But it’s hands off tonight.” The Grandmaster pulled his hand away with a flourish before moving to caress Loki’s jaw (precisely where Thor’s own hand had been). “Well, hands off for Sparkles. I can’t say the same for others.” He patted Loki’s cheek twice before taking his hand. “Come, let’s get you settled.”
This was nothing new. The Grandmaster undressing and arranging Loki into some provocative position for himself, Thor, or the guests at his parties. They were both used it to—numb in their own way. But tonight was different. Loki was different. Normally Loki’s expression was shuttered and closed off, but tonight it was open. Thor could see the dread and trepidation in his wide green eyes.
And if he could see it from a distance, then the Grandmaster must be able to see it too, but the man didn’t comment if it bothered him. If anything, he seemed to delight in the way Loki was looking at up him as he prattled on. It made Thor’s skin crawl.
“Hmm, how’s that? No. Something’s missing. A pillow, maybe?” The Grandmaster snapped his fingers and gestured at the pillow on the floor where Loki had been kneeling before. “Sparkles, get your brother that green one—it will bring out Lo-Lo’s eyes.”
Thor stalked over and picked up the pillow. He held it out to the Grandmaster.
“No, you put it there—behind his head.”
Thor went to do as directed but Loki just looked up at him in confusion until Thor reached down to pull him forward. Only then did Loki pull himself up the rest of the way while Thor adjusted the pillow.
“Good. Yes, now go sit down and leave the rest to me.”
With the wave of the hand, Thor was dismissed and returned to the couch. He watched Loki—searching for other signs of confusion. This could be a good thing. If he was confused, then maybe it meant the drug was limiting his awareness—that it would keep Loki from realizing how much his face was revealing—how much Thor was able to see.
Loki would probably hate that part the most.
Thor dropped his gaze and looked down at his feet. Loki deserved what little privacy he could give him. He didn’t bother to look up when the Grandmaster babbled on about how wonderful Loki looked before saying something about actually fetching the guests this time. Thor kept his eyes on the floor—he would let Loki make the choice about whether they talked while they waited.
“I’m scared.”
At Loki’s words, his head whipped up to look at him. Loki was visibly shaking and there were tears in his eyes. Thor felt his anger coiling within him as his brother’s face crumpled.
“I don’t want to do this.”
Thor’s anger snapped and his power coursed through him. It did little more than spark across his knuckles—the disc blocked most of it, leaving a stinging pain—but he sprung to his feet as if ready for a fight. Growling in frustration, he flipped over the couch the Grandmaster had been sitting on when he forced Loki to suck him off.
“Stop. You can’t. He’ll…he’ll…” Loki trailed off with a panicked shake of his head—eyes wide with fear and something else. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m upsetting you. That drink—I can’t focus. I’m sorry.”
Thor moved toward the couch and crouched down on one knee so that they were at eye level. “Don’t apologize.”
“It’s my fault.”
“No,” Thor said firmly, but Loki just shook his head. “It’s not.”
“It is, it is.” Loki looked as if he was warring with himself. “You shouldn’t have to be here,” he whispered, glancing down at himself. “To see this.”
Thor ached for a way to a fix this for him—fix all of it. He imagined his hands around the Grandmaster’s throat—squeezing until he was the one who was gagging. “I’m going to kill him.”
“No! He’ll kill you and then… then…” Loki swallowed almost convulsively before meeting Thor’s eye with an alarming ferocity. “If he kills you, then I’d have no reason to… then all this will have been for nothing.”
Thor froze and felt his heart clench—not just at Loki’s words or their implication, but at the look on his brother’s face. He’d seen that desperate look before—once—when they had both been dangling off the Bifrost—moments before Loki had let go.
“Loki…”
He reached for Loki’s hand but he jerked it away.
“No, Thor, no. I can’t think.” Loki’s breath started coming in short gasps. “I know I should say something—or maybe shouldn’t say things—but I can’t tell which is right. I can’t, Thor. I can’t.”
“Okay, okay, just breathe, Loki.” He placed his hand on Loki’s shoulder and this time he didn’t flinch away from the touch. “You just breathe and I’ll…”
His attempts at assurances were cut off by the doors re-opening and the Grandmaster entering with a dozen guests—some of whom were bigger than him (and were looking at Loki with an anticipation that made Thor sick). He could feel himself trembling with rage—his muscles tense and ready for a fight. It took everything in him to stay crouched at Loki’s side instead of lashing out at the Grandmaster and every single one of the guests.
“Try as I might, I just can’t keep these brothers apart,” the Grandmaster said to the small crowd. He laughed lightly, but his eyes were as sharp as ever as he looked at the upturned couch. “Can’t leave them alone for a minute.”
The Grandmaster barely had to glance at the two attendants by the door and they moved quickly to right it. His eyes quickly returned to Thor—studying him like some kind of specimen.
(This was the part where Loki would usually talk—say something distracting or disarming to take the attention off Thor. But Loki stayed silent.)
Instead, Thor glared back at the Grandmaster with unwavering determination. He could feel the tension in Loki’s muscles and longed to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze, but he kept his hand still lest it draw attention to Loki. He may not be able to stop any of this, but he could delay it as long as possible.
This, apparently, was dull to watch because the guests started milling about—getting drinks from waiters and starting quiet conversations. None of them came near, but Thor had been to enough of these parties to know that wouldn’t last.
“Hmm,” the Grandmaster said after a moment. “Maybe Lo-Lo really was right—that he’s the clever one and you’re the…” he gaze shifted to Loki. “What is it that you called him, sweetheart?”
“Oaf.”
Hearing Loki say that to the Grandmaster, and knowing it had been said before, stung. It was far from one of Thor’s favorite things for Loki to call him, but it was a familiar part of their shared lives—another piece of their past that was tainted by the Grandmaster.
He looked down at Loki, but Loki was looking across the room. Thor followed his gaze to the clock.
Fuck.
It was already up to 1 hour and 3 minutes.
“Ah, now he sees it,” the Grandmaster smiled—not at Thor, but at Loki. “The real question is how much attention Sparkles was paying to the rules.”
“You didn’t tell me the rules,” Thor growled.
“Well, not all the rules, but I may have let something slip.”
The Grandmaster raised his eyebrows and mouthed the words ‘oops.’ Thor furrowed his brow and started to run through everything he could remember the Grandmaster saying (while cursing himself for not paying closer attention earlier). He was already failing. Loki didn’t quite shift but moved his shoulder tiniest bit.
It’s hands off tonight. Well, hands off for Sparkles.
Thor pulled his hand back just as the Grandmaster reached forward to swat Loki’s propped up knee.
“No cheating.”
“Sorry, Grandmaster.”
“Don’t let it happen again.” The Grandmaster rubbed Loki’s knee for a few moments and then turned back to Thor. “Come on, Sparkles, you can’t spend the entire night at your brother’s side.” He gestured impatiently for Thor to stand up. Once he did, the Grandmaster immediately linked their arms and he continued, “Tonight’s game is not an excuse to be antisocial.”
Thor hazarded one last look back at Loki as the Grandmaster pulled him across the room.
“Don’t worry, Sparkles, our little Lo-lo won’t be alone for long.”