"Yeah, like that... yeah," he murmurs, not entirely aware of what he's saying. Speaking low, reassuring, like he would if he was dealing with someone scared, someone who didn't speak his language, couldn't know what he was saying. Sometimes, doesn't seem like Loki speaks anyone's language.

His hands are gentle, suddenly. His free hand lets up his weight on Loki, strokes the lines of him, the slim spaces of soft skin from hip to ribs.

"Feel good?" he asks, lowly.