[ Yes, yes, he has found his place. He has vowed it, and in the vowing given Loki more than he can ever imagine, yet the stretch of eternity is gone now from his thoughts for the urgency of the moment has come back into him, it has returned with Loki's touch, the determined stroke of his cool fingers and the pulse and thrust of his cock within. Thor is all at once undone, meltwater running cold between his legs but all the rest of him burning with bright ardor, his cock throbbing and his hole hot and stinging and tender, loose and hungrily welcoming the renewed pitch and thrust of Loki's cock. And then the king of winter is spurting and spurting, filling him with sweet, cool seed, so that Thor's own release seems scalding by comparison, striped thickly over Loki's belly and his own. He cries out roughly and bucks his hips into the final thrusts, feeling seed spill and trickle down his thighs, Loki's spending overflowing him.
And as it is done he lies gasping, shivering, lifting tremorous hands to draw Loki down to him; he kisses his mouth with sweet passion, parting his lips, offering up still more of himself for the winter's pleasure. Loki is splintery and thin beneath his searching hands, and Thor caresses him with loving urgency, with ardor at last growing softer and drowsier as lassitude begins to set into his limbs. ]
My heart. [ he murmurs thickly, with sinking eyelids and a hand pulling Loki's fingers to his mouth, that he might kiss and kiss them. He is cold and he is warm all at once, warmed as though a hearth glows softly within him. He lifts his lips to the snapping black frost of Loki's eyes and smiles without fear. ] Now you have promised me, beloved, and I will hold you to it.
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And as it is done he lies gasping, shivering, lifting tremorous hands to draw Loki down to him; he kisses his mouth with sweet passion, parting his lips, offering up still more of himself for the winter's pleasure. Loki is splintery and thin beneath his searching hands, and Thor caresses him with loving urgency, with ardor at last growing softer and drowsier as lassitude begins to set into his limbs. ]
My heart. [ he murmurs thickly, with sinking eyelids and a hand pulling Loki's fingers to his mouth, that he might kiss and kiss them. He is cold and he is warm all at once, warmed as though a hearth glows softly within him. He lifts his lips to the snapping black frost of Loki's eyes and smiles without fear. ] Now you have promised me, beloved, and I will hold you to it.