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Thor can’t help tensing as he feels a slick finger press against him. His brother’s other hand rubs soothingly up the nape of his neck.
“Relax,” Loki whispers as he presses inside - not a finger after all, something finger-sized but cool and solid. Thor stills and tries to obey as the thing slips into him, flinches as the tip brushes his prostate, catches Loki’s almost inaudible hmm of approval. Loki nudges the thing back and forth, back and forth over that perfect spot, and the slow burn of it drags a shaky exhale from Thor. “Just here?” Loki asks, and Thor grunts his agreement, hips twitching for more. Loki chuckles, and maddeningly, his hand slips away.
“A little space, please,” he murmurs, pushing up at Thor’s hips, and Thor looks down just in time to see Loki pressing another object into himself: pink and shiny, apparently Midgardian plastic, with some kind of cord attached to the base. He watches his brother’s hips rock minutely as he positions it within himself, finding the perfect angle, and bites back a groan at the sight.
Once he’s satisfied, Loki reaches up to pull their bodies flush against each other again. “Move,” he breathes against Thor’s ear, teeth closing over the lobe as Thor does. His cock slides against Loki’s, both of them hot and hard and panting as they slip back into their rhythm. Thor feels the object shift within his body, and it’s just large enough to exert a tantalising hint of pressure in all the right places. It feels good, and he can’t help grinning as he rocks his hips harder, lifting his head to meet his brother’s eyes.
The expression on Loki’s face sends a jolt of adrenaline down his spine: the wicked spark in those green, green eyes means trouble, Thor’s seen it a thousand times before, and he has a fraction of a second for his fight-or-flight instinct to kick in before fire surges headlong through him.
His muscles turn to jelly, his arms collapse under him, and his forehead thunks down over his brother’s shoulder as that damnable thing sends wave after unrelenting wave of sensation through him. It’s moving somehow, buzzing, pulsing, and his entire body trembles with it. He can’t think, can’t move, can’t anything with the flood of sheer pleasure overloading his mind. He’s dimly aware of Loki’s breath, ragged in his ear, of an arm wrapped tightly around his neck, of fingers clutching and scrabbling at his back, of his brother arching up and frotting desperately against him. Thor tries frantically to gasp in enough air to stay conscious, to adjust to the sensation, to cling to some vestige of his sanity.
Then Loki’s arm slips from his neck to do something, and the buzzing of the thing inside him actually intensifies. Thor abandons sanity to the wind, sinking his teeth into the meat of Loki’s shoulder to stifle a scream. He recognises the taste of blood but doesn’t care, doesn’t care about anything except wrapping his arms around his brother and holding on for dear life as the pleasure builds and builds. It’s too much, too much, and suddenly he’s shaking and whimpering and coming harder than he ever has in his life.
There’s no relief from inside him though, the vibrations sending spasms through his oversensitive body as Loki continues to gasp and curse and shove up against him, choking out Thor’s name as he finds his release an eternity of agonising seconds later. Finally Thor hears a faint click, and the device inside him lapses into merciful stillness.
His mind is reeling, cold sweat prickling his back, hot seed smeared between his stomach and Loki’s. His full weight rests on top of his brother; he thinks it might be hours before he’s able to move again. Cool fingertips skim around his thigh, and Thor shudders all over again as he feels the device dragged out of him. He doesn’t resist as Loki pushes at his shoulder to roll him over, can barely keep his eyes open as he feels a soft kiss planted at the corner of his mouth.
“Sleep, brother,” is Loki’s final command, and Thor doesn’t even care about the undercurrent of magic that compels his body to obey. He falls into blissful unconsciousness.
When he wakes, he finds a small, unmarked box next to him on the bed.