fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Loki laughed to himself as he sat on the beams above the kitchens, completely out of sight, and saw how Anthony lost himself with abandon. His slave was so perfect when taken, so lost in the sensation of it, it truly made it worth pleasuring him. He gradually began to increase the size of the invisible shaft inside him, and added the sensation of a mouth sucking on his own arousal.

Except Anthony was not as unobserved as he might hope.

One of the other kitchen slaves darted over to check on the meat, since the spit dog had come wandering over to her with nothing to do now that something else was turning the meat in its place.

"What are you doing? You can't be standing idle!"

Idle? There was nothing idle about what Anthony was doing right now. Sweat had broken on his upper lip, as much from the heat of the room as from the heat of the sensation, and he felt his nails dig into the grout around the clammy tiles mounted on the wall. He couldn't quite keep from swaying, and he shifted his weight with s swallowed hiss.

"I'm monitoring the spit," Anthony said, his black and green tunic stuck to his body, erection highlighted in damp fabric. "If it goes... If it goes off the wheel... I'll need... To replace.. The belt..." He was going to come undone right here, talking to one of the middle management kitchen slaves. He curled his toes in his boots in an attempt to hold on, but his abdominal muscles were already tightening. "Let me concentrate--!"

The slave frowned. "You sick? You can't be near the food if-- Odin's beard!"

Anthony groaned low and gasped before he growled out his orgasm against lips that were nonexistent, muscles clenching around the massive phallas filling him.

The act of sex wasn't taboo on Asgard, but it was still sex. Just as riding a horse would be frowned on in the kitchens, so too was spilling seed near things that people were going to eat. She looked disgusted, especially at how he had apparently orgasmed so hard from nothing.

"What is wrong with you?"

Anthony might hear the quietest laugh from above his head, before those invisible hands started up again. He was not going to allow this to be easy for his slave, the awkwardness of the situation was a better entertainment than many a feastday performer could be.

"Turning meat turns me on," Anthony said, though he was completely into the way Loki touched him, hands felt but unseen. He closed his eyes against it and found himself biting his lip before the slave slapped him on the back of the head with a ladle.

"Out! Out! Disgusting!"

Trying to run from a ladle feeling as if he had a horse's cock ramming into his ass wasn't exactly easy and he found himself stumbling twice before he made it out to the courtyard. On his knees on the brick by the outdoor oven, Anthony arched his back and stretched forward on his hands. Two male slaves, who had been baking bread, paused to look at him and snickered.

Anthony had no shame. He didn't care. He just wanted his master in this moment, but if he couldn't have him, he'd accept his magic instead.

Ah, but this was mischief, and Loki enjoyed making others frustrated.

Just before Anthony reached his second climax, everything would stop. The magic withdrew, the sensation of being touched dimmed, and left him only with his own erection and the watching bakers.

And Loki.

He had transformed back into his usual form and had taken a seat on one of the low walls around the courtyard, bright green eyes fixed on his Anthony with intense amusement. He even waved, laughing to himself.

Shivering and left wanting, Anthony sat back on his heels and turned dark eyes towards his master, mouth open and breathing hard. "The real thing is better," he murmured under his breath, not watching the other slaves immediately turn away from him to begin forming dough into braided loaves with incredible abandon. They didn't care to be noticed by the prince, not under this circumstance.

Not that Anthony cared. Let them look. Let them see. Let them be jealous.

He crawled across the landscaped terrace, still on all fours, towards his master only to sit back again on his heels just within touching distance of him. His eyes lifted, gaze almost defiant for Loki to reprimand him again. It was true. He took too many liberties. But all personal slaves did too, to a degree. That was why their masters came to love them.

And I. Poor Tony's case, a signifier of how deeply in love with his master he was.

Loki ignored all others as well, he cared nothing for what they saw or thought. They had no right to judge him as Prince, and he knew that all would be sensible enough to vacate the area so that he may take his slave should he wish.

"You are no longer in the kitchens, Anthony, did I not say that you were to serve there until the dawn tomorrow?"

Of course he knew that his slave had been thrown out. He had seen it, he had been there, it had been his fault. But he said it anyway, a clear tease in the smile at his lips and in the lilt of his voice.

"Must you disobey me so much? I will have to think of more creative punishments."

"Technically, this is part of the kitchen," he said, knowing he was being cheeky, but Looi had forgiven his trespass and taken him back and Anthony would accept whatever came to him. That didn't mean he would have the best handle on his tongue however. Even now. "But you're right, my prince. I'm not in the kitchen. So I suppose I haven't learned my lesson at all. I want, desperately, to be taught to behave..."

The way Anthony spoke was almost unthinkable to slaves thst had never been taken for bedsport outside of a feast or gathering... When there generally was less of a bed in play and more of an orgy to satiate Aesir lust. They didn't understand that personal slaves were often coy to provoke interest in their masters and mistresses.

And they didn't know that this was all part of a very important game to play with Loki, to stoke his ego, to reconnect after a hurt had been done.

Anthony rolled his shoulders forward, eager for this punishment. If it hurt, fine, so long as Loki enjoyed it.

How could Thor think that Loki would ever accept a second slave?

No other could ever compare to Anthony and the perfection of his response. Quick, intelligent, loyal, eager... he was all that Loki could ever want and more. Despite that, he truly would not hesitate to dismiss or kill him if the situation truly required it. He was a selfish creature at heart, and likely only Frigga stood high enough in his esteem to truly escape that.

Loki pulled Anthony up onto his lap and ground against him, his arousal fairly evident even beneath his clothes. Not that either had clothes for long, for he vanished his own and used a dagger to slice Anthony's off him - a slight cruelty, for Anthony would have to stitch and mend those before morning. He barely hesitated before thrusting into him right there in the courtyard, fingernails raking harsh lines down his back to mingle pleasure and pain.

He needed to use Anthony, to release the tension and fear of the past few months, and he would do it until long after his poor slave was exhausted and spent many times over.

In a way, Thor used Steven similarly. Their approach to their chosen slaves were much the same, using them for release. Thor's position as a young All-Father was stressful, more than anything else had ever been. James was never exclusive in his bed, though Thor let no other have use of being inside of his body. Steven had often joined bedsport to pleasure James with his mouth or to pleasure Sif when she stayed with Thor for the evening. James had been solely his but Thor had gifted himself to others as well.

Over this last year, though, Thor had rutted into no other. No other slave had joined him and Steven in his bed. Steven never slept in the slave stable in the courtyard with the others. A year was not so long, in many ways, but Thor's constant doting on Steven, even outside of bed, was becoming noticeable. Almost illicit.

No one that did not know Loki would ever see the affection he had for his poor, used slave. But Thor was less careful, less caring of how others thought of him.

As the sun came up slowly over the castle wall, Thor held Steven tightly as they stood in an alcove, the prince buried deeply inside of the slave with Steven's muscular legs around his waist. Thor was just enjoying his sheath, enjoying kissing the moans from his slave. It was unseemly.

And Thor's friends were making a plan to let him know. He could not treat Steven as a lover.

It was Lady Sif that was chosen to approach their friend.

She had been his friend the longest, she was less likely to incite rage, and she did not fear angering someone who currently sat as All-Father. She frowned when she went in search of him and found him buried within his slave in public, when there were duties always to be attended to.

"Thor, I would speak with you. Leave your slave and walk with me."

She did not even consider that he might refuse. To put his slave above a free Aesir would be unthinkable and a true insult to Sif herself.

Thor groaned, groaned against Steven's mouth before he pulled back and lightly hit his legs until he felt feet against the floor. He rocked back then, pulling himself unsatisfied from his slave. "This had better be important," Thor said as he tucked himself away. "Steven, run a bath. I'll return before too long."

Thor was not falling into reverie here. He wasn't addicted to sexual encounters like some his age were when they could not expend energy through battle. Yes, that he could cause Steven to orgasm simply through ploughing deeply into him was a pleasurable thing, but Thor feel much more deeply for the slave that pulled him from the ashes of the death of his other love.

Wiping his hands on his breeches and letting down his tunic, Thor joined Sif with a frown.

"Quickly. Tell me what needs be done."

It was the depth of emotion that worried them, that was what was unseemly about this, and she did not want her friend to be disgraced by something like this. She glanced about to be sure that their conversation would not be overheard, so that he would not be shamed by that either.

"You are falling for your slave and it has caused gossip already."

She did not believe in edging around an issue, but rather attacking it head on. It was what made her such a wonderful warrior.

"He is a possession, Thor, do not do this. If you continue this way then when Odin Borson returns, he will surely strip you of him to stop this before it goes further. You bed him where all can see, you care nothing for the bedsport of others, and you speak with him as though he were your lover."

There was a problem here. He did love Steven. He might even be in love with Steven. But that said, he understood that the other man was property. He understood that he owned him. He did not want to free him. Love was not as simple as the romances might have you believe, that was for certain. He was not ashamed to have this unrolled so easily with Sif though. He had always appreciated it when she made sure to tell him exactly how she was feeling and why.

If there were already rumours, that would be difficult to unravel.

"Sitting upon the throne is stressful. I do not care for pillow talk with others. He has been a help to me in these stressful times, Sif. I know it is unseemly but I desire him more than any other."

"Then you're going to have to learn to desire another, because you cannot do this. If you cannot keep your relationship with your slave in the realm of propriety, then you should do the right thing and sell him."

It wouldn't be the first time that an owner had fallen for their slaves. Many were bred for beauty or witty conversation, a slave saw you at your worst and did not judge. Yet mostly these affairs were hushed up or among the lower classes where things were not so strict. To have the current and future All-Father love a slave in the wrong way would be a disaster.

"You know that I speak truth, Thor. I do not want you to suffer, nor to cause you anguish, but this is how it must be. Learn to put him back in his proper place, or get rid of him."

Sif was right. Thor surrounded himself with people that loved him, that offered him good counsel, that were fun in the furs and with whom would make an ideal replacement. But his equals though they may be were not Steven. Thor was strong in many ways, however, and now he would just need to be strong in all ways, No matter how this hurt.

He'd let himself grow attached,

That did not mean that Thor was happy with Sif's words or her truths and so he departed her company with an angered growl. He would normally bring up these matters to his brother, but there was shame in this weakness of his and Loki was out for fresh blood. Anything in the water would alert him and draw his interest and Thor was in enough pain.

He didn't understand when he had turned so broody and though he had already caused some controversy when it came to James and his funerary rites, he could not afford to cause more. He cursed his first loyal servant for making him desire the love of a slave and was immediately apologetic...to James' memory and to the bench he broke in his anger.

Only then did he return to his chambers. The sun was up and bright by then. His slaves were at their duties and he bar kingly sent them all away. All save his Steven.

Poor Steven had no idea what might be coming his way.

He had served to the best of his abilities since the day he was born. He had strove for more knowledge, more strength. He was always polite, always friendly, and he had a strong sense of honour. He had come to love his master dearly, even aside from the bed sport they enjoyed together, and he believed that he had worth for his master in return. That Prince Thor might have been falling for him wasn't something that even crossed his mind.

Steven had returned to the bed chamber and drawn a bath, as instructed.

He had to reheat the water once in order to keep it at the right temperature for when his master did appear, but that was just one of his duties. He stood up straight when his master entered, smile at his lips and clear blue eyes earnest.

Doing the right thing was never without a consequence. Thor waited for the doors to shut behind him before he crossed the chamber to where Steven stood and cupped both of his cheeks with his hands, tilting back his head to kiss him. Whatever this had been was ending this morning. Steven had been the perfect gift, one forgotten for fifty years until he had been thrust into reaponsibility. None of this was his fault. Thor could not and would not blame him.

The kiss was meloncholy. Without the sex, it had only the gravest of meanings and even with the sex, it was I appropriate. Steven had forgotten the lesson Bruce strove to teach all those years ago. Sometimes it was best not to give into their master's vices. But Steven had never cautioned him. He'd always followed.

This hurt Thor so badly.

"I must send you to service with Prince Loki," he said, their bodies still close together. "Before I shame myself further in the eyes of my people or my father catches wind. Do you understand, my Steven?"

The kiss was gentle, unlike anything he had received from his master before, and Steven already looked confused as he looked up into Thor's eyes. And then those words hit him. He felt as though someone had left him in the centre of a herd of rampaging bilgesnipe, his stomach dropping and his heart breaking.

"I--"

He was a good slave. He knew that the right thing to say here was to thank his master for allowing him to serve, to promise not to shame him with his new master, to thank him for making his next service one of status and honour... that was right. To accept the decision with dignity and even joy. But he didn't. His eyes filled with tears and he couldn't help looking betrayed and hurt, so confused over what he had done so wrong to be dismissed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, voice thick through tears. What had he done to make his master shame himself in the eyes of others? He didn't understand. "I'm so sorry, my master, I... I didn't..."

He couldn't help it. It was undignified, it wasn't allowed, but he slipped to his knees and gave himself to his tears. Heart broken, disgraced, pushed aside.

Thor put his hands on his hips and looked up, not because he felt annoyed by his slave, but only because he did not want to see what was done to him now that he could not have him in his service. "You have done nothing wrong. This punishment... This is my indiscretion, and mine alone. If I do not gift you to my brother... If the All-Father sends you away, we will never meet again in Valhalla."

Thor did not look heartbroken. There were no tears in his eyes. It was as if the last of his passion had slipped into that final kiss.

"To serve my brother will be equal to service to me. He is in need of another slave, as we discussed. And I know of no better slave in this household." Thor exhaled. "Stand. Dry your tears. You are a warrior. You are strong. And this is not goodbye nor is your reputation tarnished by my mistakes. Loki will take good care of you."

Thor may say that his reputation had not been tarnished, but Steven felt as though he had suddenly become dirty and marred with a black filth he could not even hope to scrub off. He didn't want to work for Prince Loki, no matter the honour in remaining in service to the royal family, but he had no choice.

He pushed himself to his feet and literally choked back the tears, though something in his eyes had gone dead and his shoulders were slumped in resignation. He bowed, a perfect form, and placed his hand over his heart.

"Thank you for letting me serve," he murmured brokenly. "But I beg of you to reconsider. If you must send me from your service, then send me to the farms or the infantry. Do not make me remain so close to a master I love and be unable to serve him, such would be a punishment that I do not think my heart could take."

He would rather be worked to death in a field, than see Thor each day and know what he had lost.

That response was idiotic and painful. Thor was genuinely taken aback and he blinked at Steven for a moment, trying to decide the proper course of action. To approach Steven, to touch him, or to dismiss him outright? To give him what he wanted? No. Thor stood his ground, his hands free of skin he had come to love the feel of and the servant that had never been anything other than utterly perfect.

“It is my desire to be able to see you. Daily, if possible.” It would hurt. It would be a testament to his strength to be able to resist, right? And maybe, once he had managed to do so long enough, he could take Steven back. “I will not lose you to the field or to battle that I do not lead. Do not request this of me.”

He finally did touch Steven’s cheek. How could one slave make his resolve falter so easily?

“I would give you anything, my Steven. And that is the heart of the problem. Do you not see it when all others do?”

He didn't see it, but he was no fool. Having it spelled out for him that way made his mouth fall open in genuine shock. He had never considered his master gaining feelings for him, for he had never considered it a possibility that an Aesir might love a slave beyond the station he had been granted.

"I am being dismissed because you--" He couldn't even bring himself to say it, shaking his head in defiance. "Do not do this. If I serve you well and you are happy with that service, then do not send me away. You can abstain from using me for bed sport, you can appoint another your personal slave, but do not dismiss me entirely."

It didn't seem fair.

But then, much of life was unfair. Especially when Anthony doted over his master and was clearly doted on in return, why were they not seen as equally unacceptable?

“I must distance you from this and I must distance myself from you.” Thor hated every moment of this, hand moving to Steven’s neck, thumbs pressing up under his jawline to force the blond to lift his tearing eyes upward. He could feel how hurt he was, and wondered if that was Steven’s hurt, his own, or a combination of the two. Maybe they amplified each other. Maybe this was all just a phase that he would come to be able to withstand.

Thor lowered his forehead to Steven’s. If anyone saw them now, that would be the end. This was entirely too intimate for the two to share.

“Can you not simply accept my wishes? Must you argue now when you have never done so before? When this feeling passes, I will request your return to my service. Until then, I can not have it. It would undermine the throne. Go and find my brother. Request that he come to me or if he is reposing, return here and fetch me. Do this now while I still have the strength to allow you to go from me.”

Steven's eyes as they met his master's were truly heartbroken. Never one to be able to hide his emotions, now they were writ so clear that he might as well have shouted to all of Asgard how much he hurt. To be sent away from his master no matter the reason, no matter the lack of disgrace, may well kill him.

But he said not a word.

He only leaned into the touch for a second and then pulled away with a ragged inhale, the quiet sound of a man breaking. He turned, back straight, and walked out of the rooms that had come to be home to him. Away from the master that he adored. His voice was monotone and his motions jerky as he bowed to Prince Loki and bid him to attend the temporary All-Father.

Curious as to the obvious distress of the slave, Loki did indeed leave his chambers at once in search of his brother.

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