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b2memB2MeM Challenge: Crossovers: Maglor meets Loki (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Format: Short Story - 3000 words.
Genre: Crossover, Slash
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: fairly graphic sex
Characters: Maglor and Loki (MCU)
Pairings: Maglor/Loki
Summary: One day long before the events of Thor, Loki, wandering the worlds, meets Maglor, last of the lingering Valinoreans on Earth, an ancient flame-eyed creature with talented hands and a breathtakingly beautiful voice. But what does Maglor truly want from him?
Maglor was stirred by a long-forgotten sense of impending something-or-other. In any case, it was enough to get him out of the little house near the edge of the Sea where he lived these days, somewhere within the remote vastness of the wilderness. The road ran out before it reached his house; there was only a gravel track leading to his door.
He liked it that way. Even the hardiest tourist would turn back before they reached him, and no one else came that way except the postman. The nearest town was over 25 miles away on that same gravel road; a good hour's journey at least.
No one should be around. And yet, there had distinctly been a noise, almost covered by the sound of what was undoubtedly thunder, that issued from a person in pain. He had heard enough of those noises over the years - caused it far too many times himself - not to understand it for what it was when he heard it.
He grabbed the nearest torch - it was too dark and wild a night to venture out without a flashlight - and made his way out onto the rocky beach. A dark figure lay there, groaning faintly, but looked up at him with eyes steady enough, when he approached.
"I fell off the World Tree, and I think I hit every branch on the way down," the man said, testing himself to see how hurt he was. Maglor knelt down at his side.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked. All the other questions could wait until later. The man gestured to his ankle, but shrugged.
"I will be well enough soon," he said. "Unlike you fragile mortals -," he broke off suddenly, really seeming to see Maglor all of a sudden. "But you're not human." His eyes narrowed. "What are you? I have never seen your like before."
Maglor put a little magic in his voice. "Something very old," he said. The man - no, being - lying there, shivered, tasting the feel of that power.
"Valinorean," he said at last. "Very old indeed. And now I'm curious." His eyes raked over Maglor, searching, knowing.
"I'm curious, too," Maglor said. "What, and who, exactly, are you?"
"Loki, Odinson, of Asgard," he replied.
"Asgardian," Maglor said, letting the word fill his mouth. "My distant kin, perhaps." He looked at Loki carefully, trying to puzzle out his possible lineage but could gain no obvious clues.
-----
In the Elder Days, before the fall of Numenor, there was only one world, and it was Ea bound in Arda, one flat earth. But when Numenor fell, all changed as Eru intervened. The worlds were separated, made round. The World Tree came into being, and ever after that which had been Arda was now Middle-earth, still important, but no longer sharing any physical space with Valinor.
At first, all the kin of the Eldar dwelt in Alfheim (Elvenhome), as it was now known, with the Valar. But the Noldor and their kin, ever eager to seek out and explore the realms of Ea, could not for long be content to dwell in safety and peace. Many of their kings, reborn from the Halls of Mandos, were too enamoured of the wide lands they had once ruled, but now, safe in Valinor, were not allowed to return to, if even the lands themselves had survived. As the Ages passed, they began to seek out new worlds, to build more ships like that of Earendil, and travel the stars. A new world, Asgard, was discovered, and many of the Noldor, and some of the Teleri, settled there, taking a king and managing their affairs entirely separately from that of the lands they had left.
Yet they were not alone in their adventures. For over time, many other beings had mastered the art of space travel, and had taken worlds of their own. Some of the Avari, long-sundered from their kin, settled in Svartalfheim, and others in Vanaheim. There were the Balrogs and other Maiar left after the changing of the world who had rebelled against the Valar and still followed Morgoth; these settled on Muspelheim and Jotunheim.
And between all the worlds, the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge, was built by the Asgardians, to provide easy travel between worlds, all except Alfheim, where the only way to get through was by the Straight Road and at the Valar's decree.
The Asgardians, formerly the Noldor, appointed themselves guardians of the galaxy, forged and built many great works, and dedicated themselves to keeping Middle-earth in particular, free of interference from any but themselves. It was little wonder they were worshipped as gods in the histories of mankind, showing up as they did in a flash of bright light and a roar of thunder, fighting battles on behalf of the ones they used to share lands with.
And through all this Maglor stayed on Earth. The Straight Road was refused him, and when he was visited by various members of his family, growing ever more distant, he refused them, having little desire to participate in the wars and struggles of the worlds.
-----
"Have you come here with a purpose in mind?" Maglor asked after a moment's pause, as Loki's eyes looked into him again.
"I came not by Bifrost," Loki said, "but by other secret methods that only I know. But I did not come in search of you, lingering Valinorean, and indeed I know not who you may be."
"I am Maglor Feanorion," Maglor said, and abruptly stood. "Can you walk?"
"Feanorion," Loki said, tasting the word as though it sounded good to him. "Yes, I think I can." Maglor put out a hand, and Loki took it, getting to his feet gingerly.
Loki could not fully put his foot down, so Maglor half-guided, half-carried him back to the house, and put him in a chair. It had been literally centuries since anyone other than himself had visited his home, and he had little idea of the appropriate etiquette, even if his visitor was of his own long-distant kin.
"Tea?" he asked, reverting to the standard habits of the people he had chosen to live among. It was supposed to be a panacea for all ills, and he even actually had some. He thought. Somewhere.
"Wine?" Loki responded back in the same tone. Maglor made a face, but remembered a bottle stowed away in his kitchen cupboards somewhere. He didn't drink the swill that the race of Men preferred these days, but if one lived in Britain long enough, wine just simply seemed to appear. He thought perhaps he had won it in some sort of contest a few years back.
"Very well," he said. "I'm not to blame if it's muck."
The wine was indifferently okay, or at very least Loki didn't seem to care, and drank it anyway. Maglor sat down in a chair opposite him, and then a vaguely uncomfortable silence followed, broken only by the sounds of the wind and rain on the windows.
"So how does one get off this planet, anyway?" Loki said finally. "Seems a horrible backwater of a place, you can't possibly spend all your time here. What do you do with yourself?"
"I compose songs, and then I sing and play them," Maglor said.
"A bard without an audience," Loki smirked. "You might as well just touch yourself and get it over with." He made a face that was a combination of a leer and a grin. "Or do you have something to atone for, Valinorean, that you walk this Hither Shore in sadness and shame?"
Maglor shook his head. "I see you've remembered your history now," he answered. "And it's not so much about atoning these days as, well, I like my peace and quiet."
"And yet, you rushed out to save me when I fell," Loki said, slowly stretching out the sore ankle with a slight grimace of pain. "I'd venture to guess that you're desperate for contact of any kind. You're keen for it, mad on it, and you won't admit it to yourself. Otherwise, why would you care who cried out on a lonely beach?" His smile curved, and it was not a nice smile, now. It put Maglor in mind of his brother Curufin plotting something particularly vicious and enjoying it far too much.
He shrugged. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I am simultaneously desperate to avoid meeting anyone and at the same time, desperate for contact." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "The question is, is there anything that can be done about that?"
Loki smirked again. "You mean, first of all, will I shut up, and second of all, will I kiss you?" He gave that slow cruel smile again. "The answer is, no, and yes. These are the terms."
"Acceptable," Maglor answered, and Loki stood up. The ankle was clearly now almost entirely well, he only limped the tiniest bit as he made his way over to Maglor, and set his hands on the arms of his chair, leaning over him.
"You may not like the terms, later," he said.
Maglor brought his right hand, the one with the white scar on it, up, and gripped Loki's wrist, hard. "I think you will find, child," he said, "that I have been dealing with such as you since long before the worlds were divided." He stood up, keeping hold of Loki's wrist, pushing him back, giving him a biting smirk. "Besides, it's difficult to talk with your mouth full."
The first kiss was savage, more a clash of tongues and teeth than a kiss. Maglor had somehow managed to get hold of Loki's other wrist, and pushed him back against the wall, hands above his head.
For a moment Loki yielded to it, enjoying the pleasure of letting go of control for once, and then he began to plan. Deliberately, he opened to it, did not fight back, gentled the kiss until it was truly a kiss and not just war. He sighed into Maglor's mouth, and arched against the slim figure, all seduction.
It took Maglor somewhat by surprise, and the kiss broke as Maglor backed away to stare at him darkly, still holding his hands above his head.
"Are we just going to stand here or are we going to get on with it?" Loki said, fighting the urge to grin. "You taste of ancient song-magic, and it tastes good." At that he did let himself smile, slow and sweet.
Maglor let go of him entirely. Loki left his hands where they were above his head, and slid back against the wall, sinuous.
"You should not play games, Asgardian," Maglor said, but his sweet voice was harsher now, rough with arousal.
"Is there something else you would rather play?" Loki stretched lazily, noting how Maglor's eyes were wide, how they flickered up and down his body, pausing at his evident arousal.
"Your body like an instrument, do you mean?" Maglor said.
"Well, you are famed as a musician," Loki answered, bringing his hands down slowly from above his head and reaching out to pull Maglor back in. "You are too far away from me to play me properly."
Maglor let himself be pulled toward Loki. "You are on the wrong surface and need, ah, tuning," he said, finishing the last word breathlessly as Loki took the opportunity to lean in and lick a stripe up the side of his throat toward his ear. He grasped Loki's hand. "Come with me."
Once in the dim bedroom, Maglor frowned at Loki, pushing him toward the unmade bed. "Take your clothes off, instrument. I cannot play something in its case."
Loki caught his breath, and complied, forgetting the game of seduction he had been playing, now that it was very effectively working. Maglor stood watching him, making no move to take off his own clothes.
Loki did not bother making much of a tease out of taking his clothes off, figuring that Maglor did not care much for such things. He was practical and efficient, yet graceful, and Maglor did watch, fingers clenched into the palms of his hands.
"You should take your clothes off, too, Valinorean," Loki said, watching flames light up Maglor's eyes at the description that was little more than an insult at this point.
"Stop calling me that, Asgardian," Maglor said, making the final word sound like a slap in the face. "I have not dwelt in Valinor since long before the breaking of the worlds. Indeed, now, if I am of anywhere, it is of this Middle-earth."
Loki came over, naked, and heaved a put-upon sigh. "Well, if you will be so very slow about taking off your clothes," he said, and Maglor yielded, letting Loki undress him.
Once they were both naked, Maglor seemed to remember what they were there for, and shoved Loki back against the bed. Loki laughed and let it happen, dark hair sweeping down against his face, eyes amused. They fell together onto the bed, pushing the blankets away, and all but attacked each other with mouths and hands, Loki biting hard at Maglor's neck, Maglor sending a hand sweeping down Loki's back, effortlessly finding all the places on him that made him shiver and cry out.
"What do you want to do?" Loki said suddenly, drawing back a little, voice gone breathy with lust.
"Let me play you," and Maglor's voice was a dark, rough thing, almost a growl, dancing along his skin, sensation heading straight for his cock. Such words could not be gainsaid; Loki let his head fall back with a gasp as Maglor's talented hands took hold of his cock, even as his lips and teeth worried at one of Loki's nipples.
This was all getting very far out of Loki's control but he found he was enjoying it, not making a move to touch Maglor back again, even if he had the opportunity. Maglor was like a wildfire burning against him, and when he raised his head to look at Loki, the fire in his silver eyes was so bright the room hardly needed any other light.
Loki was writhing under Maglor's hand and mouth, and Maglor's other hand caught both of Loki's up, faster than lightning, and pinned them once more above his head, holding them there for a moment. Loki let it happen, tossed his hair back, surrendered, moaned long and low.
"Such a pretty instrument," Maglor said, releasing his hands. Loki left them above his head, curved gracefully. Maglor's other hand was still working his cock steadily, and Loki could feel the sensations flickering down his spine, building and building. He closed his eyes with a soft moan.
Maglor shifted against him, and Loki repressed a shout of delight as he felt a warm wet mouth take him in. Confused gasps and babbling spilled from him incoherently. Maglor's mouth worked him even better than his hand had, humming against him, taking him deep, that talented tongue swiping over the head of his cock.
He was an Asgardian; he had to be able to hold out longer than this! Embarrassingly quickly, Loki felt himself building toward an inevitable (and glorious) climax. He strongly suspected that the Elf was using some sort of magic but couldn't be bothered caring anymore. His hips moved helplessly, lost in the rhythm that Maglor was sucking him to.
Climax was like a glorious crescendo, a crashing of cymbals in his head, sparks flying behind his closed eyelids. Maglor gentled against him almost immediately, giving a few last swipes of his tongue to his cock, sending delicious aftershocks all through him. Loki looked up to find Maglor's eyes on his face, and he was licking his lips like a cat.
Loki let out a harsh breath and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling Maglor down against his side. Maglor let out a huff of a laugh, and dropped down gracefully, turning as he did so to reveal his own impressive erection.
"You are incredible," Loki said, and to his own shame it didn't even sound sarcastic or mocking in any way, but rather breathless, like a lover. "What do you want?"
Maglor curled up against him, all along the length of his body. Loki could feel his erection pressing against his hip, but Maglor didn't seem to be much concerned with it. "Stay," he said, softly, instead of asking for something like Loki's hand, mouth, or arse. "Stay for a little while."
Well, it wasn't like Loki had anything particularly important to get back for anytime soon. "Yes," he said. "If only because I was right about you."
Maglor gave him a somewhat fey smile, and then pressed a long kiss to his shoulder. "You really should quell that unfortunate tendency to boast," he said. "Or at the least, be sure you are boasting about something that actually matters." He met Loki's eyes. "For all you know, I deliberately brought you here and manipulated this." He gave Loki a wickedly mischievous smile. "Or maybe I didn't, but I know that saying so would intrigue you." The smile got even more wicked.
That was the breaking point; Loki surged up, and turned them over, ending up astride Maglor, who looked positively gleeful at the way things were going. "Once I'm done with you," Loki said, bending down, kiss-close to Maglor's mouth, "I'll definitely have something to boast about." Their mouths met in another clash of a kiss, and Maglor moaned, the sound of it achingly beautiful.
Oh, yes. Certainly worth staying on this forsaken backwater of a planet, at least for a little while, Loki thought, and then bent his entire mind toward getting Maglor to sing just as well as he'd played.
Format: Short Story - 3000 words.
Genre: Crossover, Slash
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: fairly graphic sex
Characters: Maglor and Loki (MCU)
Pairings: Maglor/Loki
Summary: One day long before the events of Thor, Loki, wandering the worlds, meets Maglor, last of the lingering Valinoreans on Earth, an ancient flame-eyed creature with talented hands and a breathtakingly beautiful voice. But what does Maglor truly want from him?
Maglor was stirred by a long-forgotten sense of impending something-or-other. In any case, it was enough to get him out of the little house near the edge of the Sea where he lived these days, somewhere within the remote vastness of the wilderness. The road ran out before it reached his house; there was only a gravel track leading to his door.
He liked it that way. Even the hardiest tourist would turn back before they reached him, and no one else came that way except the postman. The nearest town was over 25 miles away on that same gravel road; a good hour's journey at least.
No one should be around. And yet, there had distinctly been a noise, almost covered by the sound of what was undoubtedly thunder, that issued from a person in pain. He had heard enough of those noises over the years - caused it far too many times himself - not to understand it for what it was when he heard it.
He grabbed the nearest torch - it was too dark and wild a night to venture out without a flashlight - and made his way out onto the rocky beach. A dark figure lay there, groaning faintly, but looked up at him with eyes steady enough, when he approached.
"I fell off the World Tree, and I think I hit every branch on the way down," the man said, testing himself to see how hurt he was. Maglor knelt down at his side.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked. All the other questions could wait until later. The man gestured to his ankle, but shrugged.
"I will be well enough soon," he said. "Unlike you fragile mortals -," he broke off suddenly, really seeming to see Maglor all of a sudden. "But you're not human." His eyes narrowed. "What are you? I have never seen your like before."
Maglor put a little magic in his voice. "Something very old," he said. The man - no, being - lying there, shivered, tasting the feel of that power.
"Valinorean," he said at last. "Very old indeed. And now I'm curious." His eyes raked over Maglor, searching, knowing.
"I'm curious, too," Maglor said. "What, and who, exactly, are you?"
"Loki, Odinson, of Asgard," he replied.
"Asgardian," Maglor said, letting the word fill his mouth. "My distant kin, perhaps." He looked at Loki carefully, trying to puzzle out his possible lineage but could gain no obvious clues.
-----
In the Elder Days, before the fall of Numenor, there was only one world, and it was Ea bound in Arda, one flat earth. But when Numenor fell, all changed as Eru intervened. The worlds were separated, made round. The World Tree came into being, and ever after that which had been Arda was now Middle-earth, still important, but no longer sharing any physical space with Valinor.
At first, all the kin of the Eldar dwelt in Alfheim (Elvenhome), as it was now known, with the Valar. But the Noldor and their kin, ever eager to seek out and explore the realms of Ea, could not for long be content to dwell in safety and peace. Many of their kings, reborn from the Halls of Mandos, were too enamoured of the wide lands they had once ruled, but now, safe in Valinor, were not allowed to return to, if even the lands themselves had survived. As the Ages passed, they began to seek out new worlds, to build more ships like that of Earendil, and travel the stars. A new world, Asgard, was discovered, and many of the Noldor, and some of the Teleri, settled there, taking a king and managing their affairs entirely separately from that of the lands they had left.
Yet they were not alone in their adventures. For over time, many other beings had mastered the art of space travel, and had taken worlds of their own. Some of the Avari, long-sundered from their kin, settled in Svartalfheim, and others in Vanaheim. There were the Balrogs and other Maiar left after the changing of the world who had rebelled against the Valar and still followed Morgoth; these settled on Muspelheim and Jotunheim.
And between all the worlds, the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge, was built by the Asgardians, to provide easy travel between worlds, all except Alfheim, where the only way to get through was by the Straight Road and at the Valar's decree.
The Asgardians, formerly the Noldor, appointed themselves guardians of the galaxy, forged and built many great works, and dedicated themselves to keeping Middle-earth in particular, free of interference from any but themselves. It was little wonder they were worshipped as gods in the histories of mankind, showing up as they did in a flash of bright light and a roar of thunder, fighting battles on behalf of the ones they used to share lands with.
And through all this Maglor stayed on Earth. The Straight Road was refused him, and when he was visited by various members of his family, growing ever more distant, he refused them, having little desire to participate in the wars and struggles of the worlds.
-----
"Have you come here with a purpose in mind?" Maglor asked after a moment's pause, as Loki's eyes looked into him again.
"I came not by Bifrost," Loki said, "but by other secret methods that only I know. But I did not come in search of you, lingering Valinorean, and indeed I know not who you may be."
"I am Maglor Feanorion," Maglor said, and abruptly stood. "Can you walk?"
"Feanorion," Loki said, tasting the word as though it sounded good to him. "Yes, I think I can." Maglor put out a hand, and Loki took it, getting to his feet gingerly.
Loki could not fully put his foot down, so Maglor half-guided, half-carried him back to the house, and put him in a chair. It had been literally centuries since anyone other than himself had visited his home, and he had little idea of the appropriate etiquette, even if his visitor was of his own long-distant kin.
"Tea?" he asked, reverting to the standard habits of the people he had chosen to live among. It was supposed to be a panacea for all ills, and he even actually had some. He thought. Somewhere.
"Wine?" Loki responded back in the same tone. Maglor made a face, but remembered a bottle stowed away in his kitchen cupboards somewhere. He didn't drink the swill that the race of Men preferred these days, but if one lived in Britain long enough, wine just simply seemed to appear. He thought perhaps he had won it in some sort of contest a few years back.
"Very well," he said. "I'm not to blame if it's muck."
The wine was indifferently okay, or at very least Loki didn't seem to care, and drank it anyway. Maglor sat down in a chair opposite him, and then a vaguely uncomfortable silence followed, broken only by the sounds of the wind and rain on the windows.
"So how does one get off this planet, anyway?" Loki said finally. "Seems a horrible backwater of a place, you can't possibly spend all your time here. What do you do with yourself?"
"I compose songs, and then I sing and play them," Maglor said.
"A bard without an audience," Loki smirked. "You might as well just touch yourself and get it over with." He made a face that was a combination of a leer and a grin. "Or do you have something to atone for, Valinorean, that you walk this Hither Shore in sadness and shame?"
Maglor shook his head. "I see you've remembered your history now," he answered. "And it's not so much about atoning these days as, well, I like my peace and quiet."
"And yet, you rushed out to save me when I fell," Loki said, slowly stretching out the sore ankle with a slight grimace of pain. "I'd venture to guess that you're desperate for contact of any kind. You're keen for it, mad on it, and you won't admit it to yourself. Otherwise, why would you care who cried out on a lonely beach?" His smile curved, and it was not a nice smile, now. It put Maglor in mind of his brother Curufin plotting something particularly vicious and enjoying it far too much.
He shrugged. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I am simultaneously desperate to avoid meeting anyone and at the same time, desperate for contact." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "The question is, is there anything that can be done about that?"
Loki smirked again. "You mean, first of all, will I shut up, and second of all, will I kiss you?" He gave that slow cruel smile again. "The answer is, no, and yes. These are the terms."
"Acceptable," Maglor answered, and Loki stood up. The ankle was clearly now almost entirely well, he only limped the tiniest bit as he made his way over to Maglor, and set his hands on the arms of his chair, leaning over him.
"You may not like the terms, later," he said.
Maglor brought his right hand, the one with the white scar on it, up, and gripped Loki's wrist, hard. "I think you will find, child," he said, "that I have been dealing with such as you since long before the worlds were divided." He stood up, keeping hold of Loki's wrist, pushing him back, giving him a biting smirk. "Besides, it's difficult to talk with your mouth full."
The first kiss was savage, more a clash of tongues and teeth than a kiss. Maglor had somehow managed to get hold of Loki's other wrist, and pushed him back against the wall, hands above his head.
For a moment Loki yielded to it, enjoying the pleasure of letting go of control for once, and then he began to plan. Deliberately, he opened to it, did not fight back, gentled the kiss until it was truly a kiss and not just war. He sighed into Maglor's mouth, and arched against the slim figure, all seduction.
It took Maglor somewhat by surprise, and the kiss broke as Maglor backed away to stare at him darkly, still holding his hands above his head.
"Are we just going to stand here or are we going to get on with it?" Loki said, fighting the urge to grin. "You taste of ancient song-magic, and it tastes good." At that he did let himself smile, slow and sweet.
Maglor let go of him entirely. Loki left his hands where they were above his head, and slid back against the wall, sinuous.
"You should not play games, Asgardian," Maglor said, but his sweet voice was harsher now, rough with arousal.
"Is there something else you would rather play?" Loki stretched lazily, noting how Maglor's eyes were wide, how they flickered up and down his body, pausing at his evident arousal.
"Your body like an instrument, do you mean?" Maglor said.
"Well, you are famed as a musician," Loki answered, bringing his hands down slowly from above his head and reaching out to pull Maglor back in. "You are too far away from me to play me properly."
Maglor let himself be pulled toward Loki. "You are on the wrong surface and need, ah, tuning," he said, finishing the last word breathlessly as Loki took the opportunity to lean in and lick a stripe up the side of his throat toward his ear. He grasped Loki's hand. "Come with me."
Once in the dim bedroom, Maglor frowned at Loki, pushing him toward the unmade bed. "Take your clothes off, instrument. I cannot play something in its case."
Loki caught his breath, and complied, forgetting the game of seduction he had been playing, now that it was very effectively working. Maglor stood watching him, making no move to take off his own clothes.
Loki did not bother making much of a tease out of taking his clothes off, figuring that Maglor did not care much for such things. He was practical and efficient, yet graceful, and Maglor did watch, fingers clenched into the palms of his hands.
"You should take your clothes off, too, Valinorean," Loki said, watching flames light up Maglor's eyes at the description that was little more than an insult at this point.
"Stop calling me that, Asgardian," Maglor said, making the final word sound like a slap in the face. "I have not dwelt in Valinor since long before the breaking of the worlds. Indeed, now, if I am of anywhere, it is of this Middle-earth."
Loki came over, naked, and heaved a put-upon sigh. "Well, if you will be so very slow about taking off your clothes," he said, and Maglor yielded, letting Loki undress him.
Once they were both naked, Maglor seemed to remember what they were there for, and shoved Loki back against the bed. Loki laughed and let it happen, dark hair sweeping down against his face, eyes amused. They fell together onto the bed, pushing the blankets away, and all but attacked each other with mouths and hands, Loki biting hard at Maglor's neck, Maglor sending a hand sweeping down Loki's back, effortlessly finding all the places on him that made him shiver and cry out.
"What do you want to do?" Loki said suddenly, drawing back a little, voice gone breathy with lust.
"Let me play you," and Maglor's voice was a dark, rough thing, almost a growl, dancing along his skin, sensation heading straight for his cock. Such words could not be gainsaid; Loki let his head fall back with a gasp as Maglor's talented hands took hold of his cock, even as his lips and teeth worried at one of Loki's nipples.
This was all getting very far out of Loki's control but he found he was enjoying it, not making a move to touch Maglor back again, even if he had the opportunity. Maglor was like a wildfire burning against him, and when he raised his head to look at Loki, the fire in his silver eyes was so bright the room hardly needed any other light.
Loki was writhing under Maglor's hand and mouth, and Maglor's other hand caught both of Loki's up, faster than lightning, and pinned them once more above his head, holding them there for a moment. Loki let it happen, tossed his hair back, surrendered, moaned long and low.
"Such a pretty instrument," Maglor said, releasing his hands. Loki left them above his head, curved gracefully. Maglor's other hand was still working his cock steadily, and Loki could feel the sensations flickering down his spine, building and building. He closed his eyes with a soft moan.
Maglor shifted against him, and Loki repressed a shout of delight as he felt a warm wet mouth take him in. Confused gasps and babbling spilled from him incoherently. Maglor's mouth worked him even better than his hand had, humming against him, taking him deep, that talented tongue swiping over the head of his cock.
He was an Asgardian; he had to be able to hold out longer than this! Embarrassingly quickly, Loki felt himself building toward an inevitable (and glorious) climax. He strongly suspected that the Elf was using some sort of magic but couldn't be bothered caring anymore. His hips moved helplessly, lost in the rhythm that Maglor was sucking him to.
Climax was like a glorious crescendo, a crashing of cymbals in his head, sparks flying behind his closed eyelids. Maglor gentled against him almost immediately, giving a few last swipes of his tongue to his cock, sending delicious aftershocks all through him. Loki looked up to find Maglor's eyes on his face, and he was licking his lips like a cat.
Loki let out a harsh breath and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling Maglor down against his side. Maglor let out a huff of a laugh, and dropped down gracefully, turning as he did so to reveal his own impressive erection.
"You are incredible," Loki said, and to his own shame it didn't even sound sarcastic or mocking in any way, but rather breathless, like a lover. "What do you want?"
Maglor curled up against him, all along the length of his body. Loki could feel his erection pressing against his hip, but Maglor didn't seem to be much concerned with it. "Stay," he said, softly, instead of asking for something like Loki's hand, mouth, or arse. "Stay for a little while."
Well, it wasn't like Loki had anything particularly important to get back for anytime soon. "Yes," he said. "If only because I was right about you."
Maglor gave him a somewhat fey smile, and then pressed a long kiss to his shoulder. "You really should quell that unfortunate tendency to boast," he said. "Or at the least, be sure you are boasting about something that actually matters." He met Loki's eyes. "For all you know, I deliberately brought you here and manipulated this." He gave Loki a wickedly mischievous smile. "Or maybe I didn't, but I know that saying so would intrigue you." The smile got even more wicked.
That was the breaking point; Loki surged up, and turned them over, ending up astride Maglor, who looked positively gleeful at the way things were going. "Once I'm done with you," Loki said, bending down, kiss-close to Maglor's mouth, "I'll definitely have something to boast about." Their mouths met in another clash of a kiss, and Maglor moaned, the sound of it achingly beautiful.
Oh, yes. Certainly worth staying on this forsaken backwater of a planet, at least for a little while, Loki thought, and then bent his entire mind toward getting Maglor to sing just as well as he'd played.
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