Bruises

It is always the hands that tip Thor off. No matter how clever the disguise, the hands are always wrong, all long slender fingers, delicately masculine. When the buxom blondes and busty brunettes mash their breasts against Thor and trace lines up his arms with their fingertips, Thor always looks at their hands. The ones he rejects always react the same, the familiar tightening of the mouth, the indignant stride as they walk away. Thor watches them, and drums his fingers on the table, and awaits the next one.

Tonight, the girl has short dark hair brushed back from her forehead and pale, smooth skin. Everything is different, no coquettish laugh or suggestive glances, only bright green eyes boring into Thor’s, and long slender fingers splayed across his chest. Thor hesitates, and those fingers grip tightly at his shirt, and Thor places a hand on the girl’s narrow hips and leads her out the door.

In his room, Thor undresses the girl in the dark. She wraps her pale slender arms around Thor’s neck and kisses him. Her lips are soft and warm, but her naked body is cool and hard under Thor’s hands, and he thinks of Sif. Thor presses the woman down, and his lips move to her neck, just below her jaw. He sucks at the skin there, and the woman whimpers. “Don’t,” she says, but Thor can already see the red mark on her white skin.

“You have beautiful hands,” Thor says. The woman looks at him, almost puzzled, and then he face softens a little and she smiles. Thor’s chest tightens. He has not seen that smile lately, that small secretive grin that has always been his alone, since they were children. Thor slowly spreads the woman’s legs. It has already been worth it.

In the morning the woman is gone, as Thor knew she would be. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and pulls on his clothes, squinting in the sunlight that streams through his window. With heavy, shuffling steps Thor makes his way to the dining hall, where his mother and brother are breakfasting. They greet him, and Thor mumbles something in return, making his mother laugh and his brother hide a smile in his napkin. When Loki turns his head, a dark bruise peeks out from his high collar, just below his jaw. Thor licks his lips.

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