fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Loki had enjoyed the bodies of many over his life. Usually slaves, though occasionally he had taken a fellow Asgardian to his furs, but he was not as widely experienced as his brother who often had people vying to be chosen to be taken to his furs. He was far more private about his conquests, but no less voracious in his appetites when the opportunity presented itself.

It was well that Anthony waited for Loki to show his appetites, for he had never been passive when it came to bed sport. He preferred to take charge and could be quite rough with those he chose to take. Though he allowed Anthony to kiss and touch at his skin, his own hands delved straight between his slave's legs to touch his growing erection and stroke along its length.

His head bowed to rest at the curve of Anthony's neck, smelling the unique scent on his skin, before he bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

Though some slaves relished pain, Anthony had never thought of himself as one of them. They never lasted too long at the village anyway. As soon as it was marked that they enjoyed a rougher ride in the furs by the guardians, they were often snatched up by warriors who needed such slaves to follow them on compaigns or by the palace who would then conscript them to service warriors without the means to keep a slave themselves.

There was no denying that Anthony's erection twitched when Loki marked him, however, but perhaps that was due mostly to the way it made him feel to be finally owned, to be owned by someone of great stature, and to know he would be cared for and cultivated than the physical pain of it. He did offer s little gasp, however; and he let his head fall back submissively to expose his throat for more marks in kind.

His hips moved freely in the water and he pumped himself against Loki's palm. Hopefully his master wouldn't be offended by his enthusiasm.

Hardly offended by enthusiasm for his ministrations, for what man of any species did not want to be made to feel as though they were an expert in the means of pleasuring a partner, Loki pulled Anthony easily up onto his lap. His strength was that of something far more than a mortal, and to manipulate Anthony's body was the work of nothing at all.

His hands slipped back to cup Anthony's buttocks as he ground up and against him, eyes dark with lust until suddenly they sparked an intense green and Anthony would feel phantom hands stroking all over his body, slicking over sensitive areas from his head to his toes.

Magic was a useful thing.

Magic was a wonderful thing. Anthony had been taught to never expect pleasure and he had no real frame of reference for sorcery. The healing hall at the village staffed a few novices but healing magic was far different from the sort Loki was capable of using. It was incredible.

Anthony could just hold on for the ride as Loki moved him, or caused a sensation in him that caused him to move. It was not hardly unusual for Anthony to lose himself in what he was doing but he had done well to always ensure that he was paying attention to Loki at all times.

Now, however, he was finding that the be impossible. At least, that was until he felt Loki enter him for the first time. It was like the phallus all over again at first, hard and unyielding.

But oh. Oh, Loki knew how to use it.

Loki had enjoyed a few responsive partners, but he had nver had anything quite like Anthony, the man gasped and moaned as though he were an untested maiden. It spurred Loki to greatr efforts when he was not recoiled from as he used magic, too many of his partners feared and distrusted the arts and, other than Amora or Sigyn, would not dream of allowing him to use it in bed sport. Magic, however, was a part of him in the same way his hands or his skin were parts of him, and to be denied its use always felt like being trapped. Anthony may be a slave, but he accepted and even embraced these parts of Loki and he always preferred when his partners in bed would leave satisfied enough to tell others that he could tumble in the furs as well as any other.

After he finally reached his climax buried deep inside Anthony, he relaxed back in the hot water and let the steam wash away the final tension in his body. He felt his lips curl up like a cat with the cream, well satisfied with his slave so far. And, in being satisfied, inclined to be generous with it.

"Today the week of your learning has expired, and I am well pleased with you, I plan to keep you. You may ask of me a gift to celebrate this new agreement and, if it is an agreeable request, I shall grant it."

With the coupling finished, Anthony was aware of the statutes and limits were of the time he was allowed to recover. He had come hard, just after Loki, perhaps triggered by his master, and there was a mess floating on the surface of the water. Duty told him to skim the top and climb out of the water so that Loki could finish his bath, but he allowed himself perhaps two moments too long to feel the start of Loki's erection softening within him. It was comfortable that it should happen with those words of promise. Anthony didn't really think that fate would be so cruel as to send him back to the village twice, but the comfort was there to know it would not be done.

"Uh, well," Anthony said, using the conversation as motivation to clean up and allow his master to bathe, leaving the bath to dry up the areas around the tub and lay out a towel for Loki, "I would like to get something from the Free Markets when you allow me to travel there with you." That had been reward from several days before for a job well done.

He crouched to pick his clothing up.

"You've provided the tools but I'd like materials. I don't know what exactly. I don't know everything that could be out there. But some metal would be appreciated. I've been thinking of a way to make it easier for you to communicate with me should we ever been too distant for me to hear your voice naturally-- I saw someone on Vanaheim use a hand held communicator like on the chariots."

He did not know if his slave were truly intelligent and inventive enough to create things beyond irrigation systems and toys, but he was certainly willing to let him try. It would be a real boon to his status as well if he had a particularly clever slave, though he would then have to fend off offers to buy his property.

"Very well, that is a reasonable request. We shall visit the Free Markets tomorrow, when the celebrations are done, and you may have five gold coins to spend as you will."

He would let Anthony choose his materials, he should be able to get a fair amount for that if he retained sense during bargaining. Loki could likely get a lower price simply because of his status, but he wished to see what Anthony would choose to buy and how he fared at dealing with the often clever and manipulative vendors in the marketplace.

"Make sure you wear a clean tunic for the feast this evening."

Five gold coins was almost too much for Anthony to wrap his mind around. He had no idea how much he was worth either, he had never asked nor had known his price. He would have to ask Bruce about the worth of materials. He wanted to make his money extend as much as possible now that it was his. Who knew when he would get back again?

Brushing his own tunic clean, Anthony prepared himself and then his master for the feast. On the other side of the princely wing, however, Thor was doing no such thing. He sat in repose with James instead, not speaking about anything in particular. The Warriors Three had told him off about heading to the Great Hall. The Lady Sif was still on campaign and might not make it back for his feast at all.

Even Loki had departed.

"Do you have insight on the festivities? Will there be a brawl?" Thor was honing his weapons himself as they sat in the courtyard under the sun. The rest of the slaves were off busy with the party as well. All save for Steven, whom he had yet to place. And honestly, he'd forgotten at the moment.

James loved his life. He had been in service to the prince since he had been almost a baby, he had grown up learning how best to please him, and now they were as close to friends as a slave and master could be. He would never forget that instead of leaving him for dead after he had charged the enemy to save his master, as was his duty, that Thor had personally carried him all the way back to Asgard and had the healers give him the best dwarven steel arm they could manufacture. It was his pride and joy, it's why all his uniforms were now only made with one sleeve, to show off the shining metal.

He reclined next to his master, idly sharpening one of his own knives as well.

"Of course there will be a brawl, and likely demonstrations of blade and hammer as well. I saw sixteen boar carried into the kitchen yesterday afternoon, and twenty casks of Alfheim mead. Loki will probably start a flyting contest at some point as well."

It would be a good day, but not one marked with any intense celebration, it was not a monumental birth year.

"Have you thought of where to place Steven, Thor? I was impressed, he's rough in technique but there's promise there. If you don't have a special place for him, I'd like to have him as a guard and warrior."

Truthfully, Thor hadn't thought much at all about Steven, fine specimen as he was, fine fighter that he was, Thor had trouble seeing any slave beyond James. His others were strong and beautiful, quick and quiet at their duties, but he barely thought of them either save when he found the need to have a toss in the middle of the night and did not feel like sending James off to fetch one of his other partners. And even that was rare. He spent much of his time in sporting pursuits and there was not much time to seek the comfort of another's touch.

And he had James. He'd bonded to his slave early in life, as many children do with their first personal slave, but Thor tended to be too passionate and too blind to reality. Luckily, James knew his place and Odin did not need to remove him from his son's service prior to the end of the span of apples.

And really, a shame it was that Midgardians had such a limited ability with them. They always stopped working eventually and nature would eventually reclaim them.

Luckily, James had several hundred years left before he needed to worry about a successor.

Thor gave his favoured a glance and then laughed. "Am I so much work that you need a personal slave yourself?" It was just a tease. "You maybe have him, of course. You will train him as you have all of the elite slave guard if that is your wish. He is rough indeed but you will shape him well."

James was what all people wanted from their personal slaves. Loyal, fierce, strong, intelligent, but always knowing his place and never overstepping the mark. He knew his own worth but he didn't inflate it, and his devotion to Thor was absolute. He chuckled when Thor jested about giving him his own personal slave, returning the knife he had been sharpening to a loop at his belt.

"Thank you, it will take time to see if he has what it takes, but I believe he could be something special. Maybe even a worthy successor to me when my time comes."

He knew that Thor didn't like to think of the mortality of people that he loved, and he had never lost a slave before, so it would perhaps come as a shock the first time. Like a child losing their first pet.

"Now come, you cannot keep everyone waiting today, they won't be able to start the celebrations without you and you're wasting the day with a slave instead of your family. Let me get your formal dress and get you ready."

James said it too often of late. He made remarks about his mortality every few months as if trying to prepare him. Thor disliked it enough that he reached out and gripped the metal arm. James was strong but Thor's very nature was strength and the slave had no hope of fighting him. Not that James ever would. From his spot across the courtyard, seated in the slave quarters he would share with all of Thor's slaves save James, Steven watched Thor pull the Midgardian back into his arms and nuzzle the back of his neck.

"Enough of that. I will travel to Valhalla myself to bring you back to my service if you are foolish enough to leave it. And I will be greatly unhappy with you then."

He did not let James go, pressing himself forward instead.

"Have Steven prepare my garb and allow me a little more time to waste with my slave."

It felt good to be loved so much, to be so appreciated by his master, and James let himself be manhandled into Thor's arms pliantly. But he did not drop the subject, even though he had been told to. It hadn't been a particularly vehement order, and James knew that Odin would want him to nip this sort of denial in the bud if he could.

"When my time comes, and if I am fortunate enough to die a warrior's death and enter Valhalla, then I will wait there until I can serve you again in the future. But you will find another slave and live on, my prince."

He raised his flesh arm, since his metal one was preoccupied now, and gestured towards where he knew Steven was watching.

"Steven, fetch Thor's feastday clothing and lay it out in his chambers ready for him. Now."

"Enough talking." Thor did not shy from the truth, and death need not be forever nor something incapable of being enjoyed nor inglorious. Thor would just miss his slave. But that was nothing to think of now either. And James was considerate about his inappropriate comment too. Thor knew he was a bit too chivalrous towards his slave and that he needed to be much more careful with his words--

And he would. Next time.

As the tall blond, his brother's gift, came across the courtyard to head through the spiral hall to the bedroom, Thor released James and they both followed the young slave upstairs only for James to find himself on his stomach a moment later, weapons belt still in place, trousers still on, while Thor rutted up against him. His weight was superiority great on the smaller Midgardian but he kept much of it on his knees and his elbow as he reached around James' waist to shove a hand down those trousers. It was how children rutted, clothing on in case they were caught doing something they shouldn't, though Thor had ever right to use James as he saw fit. It was also how warriors might enjoy an afternoon while waiting for battle, ready to fight at the sound of a horn.

Thor just liked the initial tussle. He liked the roughness. And he liked it when James was pleasured. His slave was loud. It struck more than one chord in Thor.

And loud he was.

James, like all of those before him, had been trained to make sure that he could fulfil any of his master's wishes. But he had never found a tumble in the furs to be an arduous duty, his pleasure sounding out loudly enough for all to hear from even the rooms across the halls. He was not so submissive a lover, there was no need for him to be when his master could manhandle him with the ease of a babe, rutting back against him and struggling to try and turn around to rip clothes away and pleasure Thor in return.

Ultimately, though, he existed for Thor's pleasure, whether that was rutting until he reached his completion, or something else. He would never deny his prince anything, heart full of pride and love even as he collapsed back, satiated and spent.

"That-- my prince, is truly not getting ready for your feast," he teased, grin on his face.

"And ready I should be getting. What a lazy slave you are to rest in repose instead of preparing me!" Thor sported a hefty erection as he left James to recline upon his furs. He would need his energy for the feast and would not spend himself until he was in his cups. Perhaps that would be with Sif or his Warriors. Perhaps with James. Thor might be a great strategist but he did not plan his own pleasure.

He gestured for Steven, who had laid out his clothing and was currently waiting patiently for further instruction, to bring the bathing bowl. Thor would leave the bathing proper for later. He had barely worked up a sweat anyway.

"You will train exclusively with James," Thor told his newest slave as he sponged him off and dried him after. "He is already training Samuel and you will join him. Other than what I require of you, you are James'."

Steven might not understand that particular honour yet, but Bruce had eluded to it. James was the third most important slave in Asgard after Odin's and Frigga's personal slaves. And perhaps he held as much sway as they did.

Steven had some small notion of what this might mean for him, but not much. What he did know, however, was that he had wanted to be a warrior all his life to protect others and right injustices, and now he was being given that opportunity. He could barely stammer his thanks, dropping to a knee fervently to express how grateful he was for such a gift.

He liked James too, it was an instant feeling that this was a man that he could get along with, a man after his own heart. He just hoped that Anthony was enjoying his good fortune as much as Steven was. He quickly tried to help his prince finish getting ready, and then watched James for what to do when their master was finally on the way to his birthday feast.

James gave him an hour to himself, and so he ran off in search of Anthony, almost colliding with the other slave down the corridor towards Bruce's rooms.

"Anthony! Anthony! I'm to be trained as a warrior, isn't that fantastic?"

Anthony was still reeling himself, walking on clouds and with a hazy sort of glint to his eyes. He wanted to lounge around and spread out like a cat on furs but as his free time was precious and he had only an hour or so before he was to accompany Loki to the feast to fill his cups and deliver foods too far to reach, he wanted to grill Bruce about the price of metals and supplies at the Free Markets and what he could expect to pay for old, broken communication equipment to tinker with.

He hadn’t expected to see Steven until the feast itself, but here he was running around like a barely paper trained puppy yapping at him.

“Are you surprised?” he asked genuinely, reaching out to give Steven a little punch to his bare arm. “Because I’m not. This is where you’re meant to be. And me too. He’s going to keep me. So I owe you thanks, then, for making sure I was awake and in the yard when Prince Loki arrived.”

Perhaps he would purchase something small for Steven. Perhaps that would be a bad use of his money, but Steven had been his only friend until Bruce. And technically, Bruce was not his friend but Anthony didn’t care. He was to him.

Of course he was surprised, because Steven was an idiot who often didn't know his own incredible worth. He just beamed and grabbed Anthony in a tight hug, before releasing him and smoothing down his official tunic self consciously, not wanting to be rumpled at all before the feast began.

"He really said that? He's keeping you? I knew that he would! I told you that you were a genius and you just needed to wait for the right master. Tell me everything that happened, I want to know it all."

No matter if they found other friends, other masters, other lives; Anthony would still be one of Steven's best friends. They had grown up together, trained together, and supported one another through the horrible certainty that neither one of them would be chosen. Now that they were happy, Steven wanted no less to be a part of Anthony's life.

As much as Anthony relied on Bruce for his insight, he couldn’t help but be boosted by Steven’s sheer enthusiasm. They could not be more different, the two of them, and yet they had landed on such similar ground for their entire lives together. Anthony appreciated Steven in ways that the likeable man had never been appreciated. Even when he was being maddening.

Anthony told Steven, in as much detail as he could with discussing the library, how Loki had favored him in all ways possible. He discussed his exciting use of magic and how it was a pleasure to serve him in any way he was tasked. They were speaking like children with their heads together when Bruce poked his head out of the door. He’d thought he’d heard the pair and there they were, chattering on excitedly like little squirrels.

“You shouldn’t gossip in public,” Bruce said as he pushed his glasses up his nose and waited for the unlikely pair to flow into his room.

“Bruce!” Anthony’s voice was sharp and high in his excitement. “I need to know how much five gold coins will stretch on Vanaheim!” Steve blinked, mouth agape, and Anthony nodded. “I guess he likes me, huh?”

Bruce had grown to quite like the pair of new royal slaves in the week that he had been helping to prepare them for their roles, they both had personality in ways that would surely help them with their respective masters. So he was indulgent as he let them into his chambers and make themselves at home on his chairs and the edge of his bed.

"Five gold coins would be enough to buy a small homestead with land on the outskirts of Asgard, Anthony, you can buy a lot of materials for that. Anything dwarven worked will cost more, anything of Jotun heritage will cost more due to scarcity these days, but sometimes that quality is worth paying for."

He wasn't as surprised. Though Odin wasn't given to gifting his slaves large sums of money, he had on occasion been given enough coin to buy himself comforts, books, and other things that a slave often had no right to.

"You need to be careful at the Free Markets, though a truce holds, it doesn't always apply to slaves."

“I don’t need land. I’m staying with the Prince,” Anthony said, as if that was even a question. There was no way that he could do his duties if he was farming a plot of land! Though he knew it was ridiculous to say, he was already fiercely loyal to Loki…likely in the same way that Bruce was to Odin. He might not be the All-Father’s personal servant any longer, but he was a brilliant scholar in his own right and Odin still called on him quite often. He still assumed, however, that Bruce was mostly looking after his son. In this last week, with Anthony in place, Bruce had most of his time taken up by his own persuits.

Odin would not be pleased. No one had any idea why just yet.

“Well… I don’t think I’ll have to spend all of the money at once. I don’t know if my prince will be angry if I don’t. I want to prove myself worthy to be trusted this way with my gifts. He mentioned that one of the ladies in waiting for his mother had a servant that used all of her gifted coin on jewelry and that it was a waste of good money. I won’t want him to think I’m like that. And in not worried about... It will be fine. Prince Loki will watch for me."

Anthony had never in his life worried about how others saw him. Steven was silent in comment, but incredibly proud of how quickly he had grown up.

He laid back on the bottom of Bruce's bed, face impish.

"Have you ever warmed the prince's skin it furs, Bruce?" he said, delight on his face.

Ah, so that was what had such a devilish smile on Anthony's face. That was good, different slaves reacted differently when they were bedded by their masters, some with pride and satisfaction, and some with reluctance and upset. It was good for Anthony that he fell into the former camp, it would make his time serving much more pleasant, for he would not have to be constantly worried about something he must endure happening.

"No, I've never warmed Prince Loki's furs, he can be quite discerning when it comes to choosing those to enjoy bed sport with, and I don't think I appealed to him."

Though he had been present in the room while Loki had bedded others, for sex was not a taboo thing to witness on Asgard. Perhaps the very young might be kept innocent of it, but not for long. It was a joyful act, there was no need for shame to be associated with it.

"But I think if you've been gifted coin, then it's probably yours to do with as you will. Spend it or keep it."

Bruce would know Loki better than anyone but he wasn't sure what to say about Loki not thinking Bruce was attractive. Anthony found him incredibly attractive, and he turned over to give the older man a look of confusion before he wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "A shame. His sorcery is... I think no one else on Asgard could ever match him in the furs."

Not that he would know. Anthony wasn't well versed in bed sport.

Not like Steve who was, perhaps, more well versed than he realized. Everyone loved him after all.

And that was no exaggeration.

"But I feel better at least about the spending. I want to be wise with what I'm given. I have a feeling it's why I was chosen to begin with."

"Be careful about encouraging Prince Loki's use of sorcery."

Bruce frowned. He had never outright condemned sorcery in front of Loki, that wasn't his business, but it was fairly clear that the All-Father didn't approve of how much Loki relied on his magic. It had been alright when he was a boy, but now he was nearly a man and should have set aside such cowardly tricks and women's work.

"He's almost at his millennial and should be setting those skills aside soon, it's your job as a personal slave to try and guide your master when he's wrong, but subtly enough that they think it's their ideas."

Even Thor, the one who loved Loki best, didn't see his magic as more than parlour tricks to be used in jest against him.

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appointments look like they might run right up towards game time stupid delays ):

Alas!!! Have a fun night at least!

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