Holy fuck, ( Tony yelps, any involuntary buck of his hips waylaid by Thor's broad, stilling hand. He carries on for a moment because he's a vocal little shit, variations of deeply-affected praise and breathlessly enthused encouragement broken by his moans, rocketing through the empathy bond in silvered threads of pleasure.
He hasn't let go of Thor's hair; instead he holds on tightly, arrested by the sight/sound/sensation of Thor feverishly sucking his dick, just as he wanted. Even if he desired to think about anything else, he can't. Mission Distract Stark accomplished. )
no subject
He hasn't let go of Thor's hair; instead he holds on tightly, arrested by the sight/sound/sensation of Thor feverishly sucking his dick, just as he wanted. Even if he desired to think about anything else, he can't. Mission Distract Stark accomplished. )
God, you look gorgeous; feels so fucking good–