[ Pleasure will not be rushed here in the kingdom of winter; here it strokes patient and tender within him, it is leisurely, it is serene, and it takes him so fully that Thor at last knows nothing but his own soft gasps and the weight of Loki's hands upon his hips and the throb of his cock within him, piercing and sweet, stroking and stroking endlessly. He finds himself sunk to elbows, his thighs braced wide; his cheek rests upon the bedspread and his eyes are closed, his body is passive in its acceptance of such gentle and thorough lovemaking, and his own cock a sweet, heavy weight between his legs, an aching which pleasures him still more and more, a yearning which knows no relief. He begins, almost, to understand. That this, perhaps, is how Loki will have him here: that it will be long, very long, that his king will linger within him as time spirals endlessly into oblivion, until Thor knows nothing but that Loki has filled him.
He rouses up when at last Loki turns him to his back, presses him down into the soft furs and bedclothes and covers his mouth as he slides within him again, completing the two halves of them into one wholeness. Thor's arms, Thor's legs wrap around him, draw him down and inward, so that his cock in its shackle of ice is caught between them, caressed between the slow rocking of their bodies. He shares his warmth with Loki almost innocently, shares the taste of summer, his tongue ripe and seeking in the winter's cold mouth, his body anchoring, holding him near. ]
Loki. [ he murmurs at last when the kiss ends, burying his face in his king's white throat, his voice plaintive. ] Loki, my heart. [ It is so lovely, so unbearably sweet. ]
no subject
He rouses up when at last Loki turns him to his back, presses him down into the soft furs and bedclothes and covers his mouth as he slides within him again, completing the two halves of them into one wholeness. Thor's arms, Thor's legs wrap around him, draw him down and inward, so that his cock in its shackle of ice is caught between them, caressed between the slow rocking of their bodies. He shares his warmth with Loki almost innocently, shares the taste of summer, his tongue ripe and seeking in the winter's cold mouth, his body anchoring, holding him near. ]
Loki. [ he murmurs at last when the kiss ends, burying his face in his king's white throat, his voice plaintive. ] Loki, my heart. [ It is so lovely, so unbearably sweet. ]