Still Thorny

You stared at the empty shell of your fresh start – a rented flat on the lowest floor of a maisonette surrounded by a scabby fence and an overgrown lawn. An old layer of beige patterned wallpaper peeled at the corners in the living space and the floorboards told the tales of where furniture once lay through scrapes and worn wood. There was one bedroom, one bathroom and the thud of a stranger’s feet above. It was miles different to what you’d left behind along with a partner who hadn’t been much of a partner at all – a big house with many rooms that expected to be filled at some point. Your voice had been silenced; your interests were stamped down. It had taken some time to get away from that.

The sudden change made your heart ache, though – leaving a disjointed longing in the way that one regrets something purely because of the what ifs. What if you’d stayed for the stability of a roof over your head you didn’t have to contribute towards? What if you’d stayed for the bath that had no mouldy sealant around the edges? What if you’d stayed and things had got better?

Will’s hand settled on your shoulder and some of the worries melted away, bringing you back to the present.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, fine.”

You tried to shake him from you to get on with the move and stop wallowing, but his gentle grip strengthened. It smoothed to the back of your neck, his long fingers curling around the bottom, and he walked around from behind to face you.

His hair had lengthened a bit recently. Blonde tendrils fell over his forehead and tickled just above his brow. He looked like he was growing into himself – the bags under his eyes less prominent and his gaze landing more assertively on things. He drifted less. He’d had a good month and it showed.

“You don’t need to put pressure on yourself with all this,” he said softly in that paced cadence of his, gesturing to the cardboard boxes full of your things that were stacked around you. “I’m here to help.”

“I know,” you mumbled, blinking slowly to break up the sight of him, “it’s just a lot.”

He nodded and squeezed, the pressure sending a ripple of affection down your spine.

“Okay, well, tell me where you want things placed and we’ll work through it. Together.”

It became easier through the motions. Furniture first – the couch fixed parallel to a coffee table and a dresser tucked into one corner. Your mattress was laid on the floor in the bedroom (you hadn’t got a bed frame yet) and a stack of books made a makeshift bedside table next to it. Some form of home started to piece together slowly, marked out by where Will pushed things or where you kicked table legs into place. It still felt a little fragmented – parts of it were yours that were taken from before, and other pieces were thrifted quickly in time for the start of the lease, bearing no meaning in your life yet other than future places to sit. You tried not to think too hard about the memories attached to some things for fear that you’d get stuck, that Will would have to drag you out from a state again. You didn’t think you would be able to hold strong at his soft voice caressing you. It would make you too emotional, coax you into his arms where you’d so often found yourself these past couple of weeks.

Will straightened out after placing a heavy set of draws next to the window, and he dusted off his palms on his dark jeans, leaving faint grey smudges.

“Want to do the boxes now?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You’d not wanted to break down, but as you pulled open the corrugated flaps of the first box, tears began to well.

It just had to be in the first one, right at the top. You don’t know how it had ended up there – you’d probably spaced out when doing it. The whole ordeal of packing had been blurry.

With shaking fingers, you lifted the Valentine’s card and out floated a pressed dandelion once picked from a park, its crusty stem taking it lightly to the floor. You flicked over the words half-heartedly, already knowing the beats to them. They were familiar but so harshly derived from what felt like another life during a long-gone honeymoon phase that pained you to associate with.

Will was behind you straight away.

“Hey hey hey, shhh, it’s okay.”

An ugly sob broke out after he hushed you. He knew it was coming before you did.

You dropped the card back in the box and instinctively bent your arms, bowing them up to catch his forearms right as he wound them tightly around your body. He pulled you back into his chest, hugging you from behind and surrounding you, absorbing the shakes that wracked your body. He fit so well to you, it was like a memory foam cushion, and that blazing yet comforting thought reminded you about the nagging pull you’d had whenever he was nearby more recently.

See, Will was your one. The one that you had an unspoken attraction to, a dangerous feeling of lust trapped carefully under lock and key. It fizzled from you, fizzled from both of you. It was the kind of friendship that bound people together permanently and veered on the edge of romantic love. There were countless nights under dim yellowed bar lights while the rest of the guys shouted a ruckus around you, and you’d catch his eye under the noise. Fuck, it always felt like your body was on fire when he looked at you. He made you feel desired without ever crossing a line. He was fiercely protective without that stamp of ownership some people liked to flaunt. Will cared deeply and you treasured him.

When you weren’t single anymore, the spark didn’t die – it could never. It sat dormant as it had before during his tours away, during your college years or whenever you both saw someone else briefly. This had been your longest run and it had drained you. The past two weeks had let the thought of him like that mingle in an odd concoction with your loss. You’d never spoken about this feeling to each other.

You sank into him, letting him lean back a bit and balance with it, resting your weight against his lower torso gladly. Heat thrummed from him like a hearty fireplace and slowly thawed out the sad.

“You did the right thing, you know that?” he murmured into your hair, and it made you shiver.

“I-I—”

“You did.”

You sighed shakily, willing the tears to stop flowing. “It hurts,” you mumbled, and it sounded as if you were wading through water.

“I know. it just takes some time, that’s all. You’ve been through this before and you’ll come out the other side.”

“Not like this.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and the vibration spread across your back.

You shifted in his arms and Will loosened his grip to let you turn, let you edge around until you were flush to his chest. His hands stayed pressed to you, cradling politely in between your shoulder blades. You were close. Too close. You could see every pore on his nose and every shiny hair in his light beard scruff. It was better than looking at him under the bar lights. His breath exhaled through parted lips and his blue eyes stayed fixed to yours while yours – probably red rimmed and puffy – scanned his chiselled face.

He was handsome and kind, and you were snotty and suddenly needy, and all you wanted to do in that moment was kiss him.

Will’s lips tasted of coffee and skin – the richness of it slipped into your mouth and wasn’t stale at all. He stayed still for a moment as you pressed into him and closed your eyes, his body rigid under your hands that wandered around his side to cup his muscled lower back and under his grey tee, you felt the hard edges of him that were defined from the strain he held himself with. You panicked for a second, feeling him like stone against you – guilty because of the hunger that slowly pulsed in your lower belly if he wasn’t going to move—

Will wrapped his lips over yours.

The press opened a bit, his bottom lip gliding over yours hotly and a groan bubbled, suppressed at the back of his throat.

You were still in the hug – sandwiched together with your arms locked and just your jaws moving. Hugs with Will had always been something sought out first thing and saved for last before you parted. Hugs-in-the-middle were rare. But this had never happened – your mouths meeting for the first time, long overdue, moulding almost sheepishly over each other but making you yearn for more, wanting to glide your tongue over his, to taste him—

He broke away, took a small step back to unlock your arms.

“We shouldn’t be doing this right now,” he said softly, his eyebrows pinching up in concern.

“What?”

“You’ve got a lot going on right now and – shit – you’ve just been crying.” His hand moved from your lower back to your waist, his thick palm running hot through your skin and feeding you.

“I wanted to kiss you—”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you. We shouldn’t do anything that you might regret.”

Fuck.

There was a sore feeling that came with his admission. We shouldn’t do anything that you might regret. He liked you – he would still be kissing you if things were different if you weren’t broken and in the process of slowly mending.

You tried to check in with yourself, feeling a foggy mind and heavy eyes. But to regret Will? The dampness in your underwear didn’t spell out regret. You could never regret Will.

You shrugged it off. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right,” you agreed, ignoring the pushing feeling to rewind, to seek out how his body had just touched yours in more places than ever before in one go in favour or trusting his judgement.

Will took another step back, taking his heat with him.

“Let me know if there’s anything you find that’s difficult to deal with. I’ll take it and hide it.”

He smiled softly to lighten the mood – to change the subject – and you matched it half-heartedly.

-

You watched the coffee pot drip. During this self-awarded break, you’d put it on and it patpatpatted lamentedly, collecting enough of the dark glossy liquid under your gaze to pour two mugs. In the next room, you could hear Will sliding books against wood, sheathing solid paperbacks into the bookshelf he’d constructed.

That had been a torturous sight. He’d rolled up his sleeves to bunch at his elbows and his skin looked dewy while he drilled screws into wooden planks. It only told you how much didn’t regret kissing him – it was like his forearms were waving his rejection in your face.

You rubbed at your brow, trying to ease at the tension building there. You’d been frowning too much, attempting to disperse the heat that continued to sit heavy in your lower stomach, that small bloom of arousal searing into something greater whenever you focused on the bow of Will’s back as he picked up a box from the floor or when he passed you close enough so you could smell him.

Through the rest of the packing, you’d both worked in silence and the worst thing about it was that it wasn’t awkward. When Will met your eye, he smiled. When you drew close, he automatically touched your lower back as if he was guiding you. He was nice, like nothing had changed between you.

It made you want to rip his clothes off even more. Fuck the break-up – you’d been sitting in that for too long – this was paining you more now.

The shutter blinds in the kitchen were half closed, letting slits of the blood orange sunlight spill through. It was a golden evening as the sun started to dip below the horizon and it made you yearn to feel the heat of it on your face as it retreated, to let the sunrays wash off the stress from your face you’d accumulated that day. You straightened out and turned your back to the coffee pot, moving in the tiny box room to fumble with the string, yanking it to release the spring and coil the blinds up.

“Is the coffee ready?”

You jumped and whipped round, wide eyes taking in Will casually leaning against the doorway. The light only reached his mouth, the shadowed line of the top of the window cutting between his top lip and the bottom of his nose, painting his sharp jaw in orange.

You swallowed thickly. “No, it’s not ready yet. I put new beans in, and I thought it would do it quickly but—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he interrupted, stepping forward the short distance to brush his hand down your arm and stop you from your fast spewed words.

Fuck, you tensed up under his touch, and he frowned a little – his constant attuned sense of your body hyperaware, his hand stilling on your arm just where the hem of your short-sleeved tee lay – two fingers over cloth, two fingers on your skin.

He dipped his eyes to the floor shamefully before meeting your again. “I’m…I’m really sorry for what happened. I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not,” you breathed – panted. Your words sounded exasperated as you interrupted him, like the exhale you let fall out had been held in for too long. And it had. You were impatient.

“What?” he asked, his bottom pouty lip hanging open limply.

“I’m not sorry for what happened.”

Will looked wounded, like what you were saying wasn’t true. His eyebrows ticked up painfully and you wondered if he had any doubt that you wouldn’t want him. You continued when he didn’t reply.

“Will, I want to kiss you. I want to keep kissing you. I’m vulnerable, yes, but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my whole life.”

You looked up at him, pleading. He was bathed in the full light now – his light eyes tinted with a reddish glow and his lips and cheeks radiant. There was a sorrowful expression in his gaze, and you knew it – oh, you were so familiar with it. It confirmed your suspicion that he was doubting this – the same expression had stared back at you in the mirror every time you came home from a night out with him – the haze of alcohol hugging your edges and the echo of his voice humming in your head, dealing with the weight of unspoken words and the guilt at not saying them aloud.

Will stayed quiet, the pitter patter of the coffee and the hum of the fridge the only sounds in the kitchen. His eyes rolled around your face, searching you. The shadow of a bird flew quickly over his brow, and he blinked, once, twice, then closed them.

“Then kiss me, sweetheart.”

A shudder wracked you as his voice rumbled its way straight to your core. His hand closed firmer on your arm. You pushed yourself towards him and leaned up, capturing his lips with your own while his eyes were still closed.

This was how it was supposed to be – this was how you imagined it. There was none of the locked tension from earlier as Will wound his hand around the nape of your neck and dragged you in by the hips to press against him. The fucking high school slow dance posture and nerves were abandoned as he licked greedily into your open mouth and you clung to him, scrambling for purchase on every part you could possibly cover.

He held his guilt on his lips and he kissed you with it fiercely – with too many unacknowledged emotions pouring out of him and you. You fit so easily, slotting into each other, worn down in preparation for this.

And it hurt so good.

Will stepped forwards and took you with him, your feet knocking against his awkwardly, coming to a squeaking halt when backed you into the corner counter, your hips framed by two wooden edges and boxed in by him. His tongue folded over yours You ached as you felt the hardening line of his cock grind into the juncture where your thighs met your hits and you groaned into his mouth.

He smirked at that, his mouth widening against your own and baring his teeth for you to kiss. You met it – matched it – half huffing, half laughing.

So he did it again.

You felt him harden as he kept up a pace, rucking against you with controlled thrusts of his hips to build a dizzying pressure to pulse where you needed him. He wasn’t anywhere near your clit, but you throbbed. It felt heavier as you thought about the many times you’d almost plucked up the courage to ask him if he’d really felt the same way through moments of doubt but holding back for fear of a catalyst and its unknown outcome. You’d seen friendships fall messily after feelings had bloomed and you hadn’t been sure that wouldn’t happen with Will. Maybe he was thinking about the same thing – he prised his lips away from yours and caught your gaze, unyieldingly solid and comforting.

It’s okay, I’ve got you.

His hand on your hip shifted to your front, grazing your stomach tenderly before he lifted your shirt up to meet skin. You keened as he slinked up and up your body, leaving a trail of sparks in his wake. He cupped your breast with a certain fondness that contradicted the way he sought out his own pleasure at your hip. His palm was firm and hot, you bit your lip at the feeling of it, and you were about to whine desperately at him for more when he found your nipple and rolledit, morphing the whine into a debauched moan.

Will’s eyes lit up at how you arched into him.

“Tell me what you need,” he rasped, his breath fanning your chin and his lip twitching dangerously close to a snarl.

You didn’t know what exactly you needed other than him. He was transforming with each touch exploring new ground, with each new sound he dragged from your lips. It was unknown to you, and you knew you wanted that Will on you and under you and—

“I want you inside me.”

He tilted his face back, roving his hand around to cradle your cheek, his fingers spanning from your cheekbone to your jaw. It felt like Will gazed into your fucking soul while he paused, his thrusts slowing, and his breath coming out laboured enough to make his shoulders rise and fall.

He looked like he was holding himself back – the niceness in him battling against something deeper.

“Darling—” his voice came out threaded, lugged through his throat with a scratch— “you’re going to fucking kill me with that look in your eye.”

Without another word, he pawed at your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, wrenching them and your underwear from your legs liked he’d been starved for too long. He threw your clothes behind him in a bunch, and you watched them tumble into a stack of awkward folds, then returning your gaze to him to see that he hadn’t taken his eyes from you.

Was this a dream you were going to wake from soon? He looked like a dream. There you were, standing half bare and shaking for him and he was still staring into your eyes with all the care in the world possible. You carted your fingers through his stubble, and he hummed, turning his face to catch your film with a kiss.

The feeling that swelled threatened to burst you heart.

“Hop up for me,” he said softly.

With his hands cradling the bottoms of your thighs, you jumped as he’d commanded and he lifted you the rest of the way, finding a balanced point where you were leaned just right against him and just right against the counter. The forearms you’d been staring at too often that afternoon bunched and strained underneath you, locking you in place with your bare ass perching on the chipped wood and your thighs framing his hips.

Then his gaze dipped away from your face and his expression dripped from care to lust, seeking out where you were spread open and dripping for him, waiting to be touched.

He eyed your pussy like a meal, ravenous, biting his lip with the smallest smile upturning his lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pushing one thigh to be supported by the kitchen counter more. He freed his hand and ran it softly down your inner thigh, stretching out to swipe his thumb experimentally through your folds.

You groaned, helpless to keep it in when you saw him retract his hand and look at your thick coat of arousal dripping down his knuckle.

“Darling, you’re wet.”

His eyes had dipped darker, appearing almost umber in the light. His jaw slackened and his eyelashes fluttered too prettily for what he was staring at, and a thick strand of his golden hair was shaken loose to fall over his eye, tilting down towards where he inspected your mess on him. You brushed it away, tucking it into the rest of his hair.

“Will,” you sighed, sounding entirely wrung out, let your head fall back and loll on the cupboard door behind you, “this is what you do to me. This is what you’ve always done to me.”

His breath stalled. A fire you’d never seen before was burning in his eyes. He lifted his thumb to his mouth and slipped it in – slipped you in.

Fuck.

Sucking his thumb dry and releasing it with a wet pop, he made hasty work of unbuckling his belt to undo his thigh. You stared, dumbstruck as how quickly he moved, the bulge of him gradually becoming revealed as his pushed his jeans down his thighs a bit, then his underwear, and pulling himself out.

His cock hung heavily from his open pants, thick and pulsing with a gleam of precum bubbling at his head. Your mouth dried up and you watched as he shifted again, doubly making sure you were fully supported before freeing his hand to grip himself at the base, notching his dick at your entrance and pushing into your cunt in one tight sweep.

You practically sucked him into you, the grip hard and unrelenting while you adjusted, and he dropped his head to nuzzle your neck.

“I-I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he whispered against your skin as he sagged into you.

Your arm curled around his shoulders, clutching him desperately, feeling the surmounting press of him after all these years.

“Me too.”

Too long. It had taken too much time and too many heartbreaks to get to this point. The kitchen was still half bare while he fucked you hard, rocking into you as you were propped up on the surface where you would soon be preparing your meals. Everything was still half settled in the quiet apartment as he then pounded you into the floor where you would soon be sweeping errant dust away.

You held Will’s face in your hands as he swallowed your cries with his kisses, and it made you think that everything you’d gone through had been worth it just to feel him finally.

-

Will said he’s more than happy to come get you. His truck is better in the snow than your shitbox. Pack some clothes in case the snow gets worse. Be ready in 15 minutes, he’s already on his way. Love you! Stay warm. :)

You groan, cursing the younger Miller brother. Sometimes having a stubborn best friend who knows you better than anyone is incredibly inconvenient.

It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with Will— the problem is you very much want to spend time with Will. You suspect Benny knows, but he’s never brought it up, thankfully.

Kicking into gear since Will is already on his way, you tear through your apartment to pack an overnight bag with the essentials, and then take a moment to study your appearance in your bedroom mirror. You look just as frazzled as you feel, but don’t have time to rectify it, as your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Will: Hey, I’m here whenever you’re ready.

Checking your cold icebox of an apartment one last time, you lock the door behind you and trudge your way through the snow to Will’s truck, a red beacon in a blindingly white landscape.

Will exits the vehicle when he sees you approach and walks around the front to grab your bag, depositing it into the back seat.

“Thank you,” you reply timidly. No matter how many years you’ve known the Millers, Will always has your stomach doing somersaults.

“No problem,” he replies easily. “Let’s get you warmed up. I have the heat blasting.”

Hauling yourself into the cab of his truck feels like paradise. Hot air hits you square in the face, warming up your nose. You close your eyes and sigh contentedly.

“That bad, huh?” Will chuckles, pulling out of the parking lot.

“You have no idea. My power’s been out since 4 am,” you reply, glancing over at him. He looks so put together, despite the raging storm outside.

Will frowns, concern reflecting in his bright blue eyes. He looks your way for a moment, then returns his attention to the road.

“You know you could have called me, right? I’d hate for you to sit around shivering all day.”

You feel your face flush with embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to impose,” you explain. “I finally reached out to Benny when my fingers started to hurt. Forgot he was out of town.”

“You could never impose.”

Will’s eyes meet yours for a moment and your traitorous stomach does another flip.

You give him a shy smile in return, quickly moving your gaze back to the road.

“Where the hell is your winter coat?” Will’s voice is incredulous. You can’t help but laugh at his tone.

“In storage,” you answer. “I haven’t had a chance to grab it yet.”

“We’re going to go get it as soon as the snow stops.”

You acquiesce, grateful he cares enough to offer.

The rest of the drive is quiet, Will never being much of a talker. You appreciate that about him, though. When he chooses to speak, it’s because he has something important to say.

Once you’re at the Miller residence, Will brings your bag in, leaving no room for you to insist you can carry it, and drops it off in Benny’s room.

“I made his bed for you. It doesn’t seem like the snow is going to let up any time soon, so I assume you’ll need to crash here.”

You gulp and nod distractedly, looking around the room.

“I’m going to clear the sidewalk and salt the front pathway. Make yourself at home.”

Will turns to leave but you stop him with a hand on the back of his bicep. He pauses and turns around, looking at you curiously.

“Wait! Let me help. It’s the least I can do.”

Will smiles, his eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite place.

“Alright,” he agrees. “But I only have one snowblower, so you’re on salt duty. Besides, you can’t do much without a coat.”

Luckily, the salt bag is a little more than halfway empty, so you don’t struggle to hold it as you spread the salt up and down the path. Perhaps you should have changed into thicker pants, your black leggings offering no protection from the bitter cold. But you power through, knowing you won’t be outside for long.

Will is working away at the sidewalk in front of the house, powder spraying out the front of the machine, disturbing the pristine layers of snow in the yard. You’re so focused on evenly coating the end of the pathway, you don’t notice how close he is, despite the loud rumble of the snowblower.

It’s when you’re bent over at the end of the path, dropping the bag of salt onto the ground. Something cold hits you like a freight train, landing directly on your ass and all over your back.

You whirl around in surprise to see Will a few feet away, smirking at you and looking quite satisfied with himself.

There’s a moment where you freeze, your mind racing. Is he flirting? You know Will can pull a prank or two on Benny (usually in retaliation) but he’s never pulled one on you.

Once your brain catches up, you bite your chapped lower lip and reach into the snowbank with your bare hand, balling the ice cold crystals in your fist.

Will powers down the snowblower and copies your movements, eyeing you carefully with a snowball in hand.

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?” Will drawls. His face is stone, but his tone betrays his amusement.

Oh, shit.

You throw the first snowball and it thumps him on the chest, albeit weakly. Will lobs a huge one at you and it hits you in the right shoulder, pulling a soft "oof” from your mouth.

All bets are off at this point. You’re dodging snowballs left and right, trying with all your might to hit your target amongst all the chaos.

You finally land another hit, but to your horror it nails Will square in the face, flakes of snow exploding around his blond head.

He just looks at you for a moment in shock. You gape at him.

“Oh my God, I’m so sor—“ you start, but are interrupted by Will charging at you like a bull. You try to run, crashing into the wall of snow that separates the yard from the sidewalk. A few moments are spent trudging through the thick layers of it, but you slow from a run into more of a pathetic flop.

Will catches up to you in no time, tackling you to the ground. You manage to flip over just in time to avoid eating a mouthful of snow, but this allows him to straddle your legs and grab an armful of snow, dumping it on your face.

His weight sits heavy on your legs as you splutter and wave your arms around to try to wiggle away, but it’s no use. The man is simply too strong. You decide to stop struggling, admitting defeat.

“Okay Miller, you win,” you gasp, the ice cold chilling you to the bone.

He simply laughs, then rolls off you, offering his hand to help you up. You accept it gratefully, lungs expanding rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

Will is a little out of breath too. His cheeks stained red from the cold, as well at the tip of his nose. He has snowflakes stuck to his hair and eyelashes and it’s the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.

You’re a little worse for wear, with your leggings soaked all the way through and snow inside of your jacket and boots.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he chuckles, his hand on your lower back to lead you inside. You shiver a little, unsure if it’s from the cold or the subtle contact.

Will gets to the front door first and holds the door open for you, ever the gentleman.

“Thanks,” you say with a huff of laughter. “I should have known better than to challenge a Miller to a snowball fight.”

“To be fair, I did start it,” he murmurs, looking down at you, a smile gracing his handsome features.

Your sweatshirt is absolutely soaked; globs of snow cling to your arms and stomach. You look down at yourself.

“And you ended it.”

Mirth dances in Will’s eyes as you brave a glance up at him. You can’t recall ever being this close to him outside of the occasional hug.

He hums in agreement and reaches out, shaking snow out of your hair. Your heart is racing, having him so close. He smells so good, like cedar and clove.

You huff out a small laugh and ruffle your hair, biting your bottom lip self-consciously. Will’s gaze follows the movement. The shine of lighthearted humor in his eyes melts into something a little more intense. A little more hungry.

You try to think of something to say, anything to break the tension, but come up short. Instead, your hands act on their own accord and slide up his chest, feeling his erratic heart beat.

Then suddenly the tension snaps and Will is on you, molding his lips to yours in a soft kiss. You make a soft noise in surprise, but kiss him back, the tips of your fingers brushing his face delicately.

Will pulls back suddenly with an alarmed look on his face. Ice cold dread pumps through your veins, afraid you’ve gone too far.

“Shit, your fingers. Why didn’t you bring gloves?”

He grabs your wrist to demonstrate, fingers bright red and shaking, and wraps his large hands around yours to warm them up.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing. We’ve got to get you out of these clothes.”

You hold back the double entendre that pops into your brain and reach down to the hemline of your sweatshirt to peel it off your shaking form. Unfortunately, your fingers are too frozen to get very far, and you struggle to peel it up your torso.

Will jumps in and lifts the sweatshirt up and off. Your t-shirt underneath is just as damp and cold, so he removes that as well.

“Sweetheart, you’re not dressed for this weather. Leggings?”

Slightly embarrassed by your lack of preparation skills, you kick your shoes off as he stoops down to remove your leggings. Heart thumping through your chest as you look down at him, you notice his face is flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. There’s something intoxicating about having him so close, letting him take care of you like this.

Your fingers act on their own accord as they thread through his hair. He’s so warm, so solid. Will stands back up and you drop your hands back down.

He grabs your hands again, rubbing them in his palms for warmth.

“You know, you look pretty cold yourself, Miller.”

He doesn’t. In fact, he has a winter coat and proper footwear on, so if he is cold, it can’t compare to the bone-deep chill you’re experiencing.

“You’re right.”

Will starts unlacing his boots, then removes them, his thick coat following. His eyes burn holes into you as he unzips his sweatshirt, then his jeans, kicking them off quickly. The only time he breaks eye contact is to shuck his t-shirt off. He throws it unceremoniously to the ground, then lunges forward, lips crushing into yours in a searing kiss.

You press yourself into him, feeling his erection push insistently against your stomach.

“How about a shower?” he murmurs against your lips, hands smoothing down your back to squeeze a handful of your ass.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you answer against his lips, smiling wide when he lands a smack on your cold ass cheek.

Ever the careful military man, Will insists you start off the shower lukewarm so you don’t go into shock.

“Can you help me with my bra?” You ask, looking up at him with the best doe eyes you can manage. You both know your hands are warmed up enough at this point, but he bites back a grin and complies, reaching around to the clasp of your bra to unhook it. Your breasts spill out and Will looks down, licking his bottom lip.

“We’ll need to get these too,” he adds, sliding your panties down your legs.

“Don’t forget about those,” you tell him, gesturing at his boxers.

He snaps the waistband comically before taking them off, his cock springing free. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, thick and long, pointing up towards his stomach proudly.

He checks the water one last time and steps into the stream. You can’t help but check out his ass for a moment, imagining yourself pressing your nails into the soft flesh while he drives into your aching cunt.

As you follow him in and close the shower door, Will takes advantage while you’re facing the other direction and kisses your neck, his arm snakes around your front to cup the apex of your thighs. His fingers card through your curls and press down, rubbing against your clit lightly.

You let out a contented sigh and roll your head back against his chest while he works at you slowly, his other hand reaching up to pinch your nipple.

“Thought about this exact scenario,” he tells you, voice low and husky in your ear. “Rubbing your clit in the shower. Playing with these perfect fucking tits.”

Will likes to talk dirty. You store this knowledge away in your brain.

“Thought about this too,” you tell him. “Though, in my fantasy I’m on my knees for you.”

“Fuck.”

Will responds with a quick slap, hitting you directly on your clit. The sharp sting takes you by surprise and you whimper and buck your hips, seeking more contact on your throbbing clit. He gives it another slap and you shout, pulling a pleased groan from the man behind you

Turning around to kiss him, you plunge your tongue into his mouth. He meets you with every stroke, kissing you back at a furious pace.

Eager to please him, your kisses move down to his neck, playfully licking and biting at the tender skin, earning a deep rumble that comes from his chest, then you drop down to your knees, hands resting on his thighs.

Will squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, mouth open in a groan.

Starting with kitten licks on the underside of his cock, you glide your tongue around him lightly before wrapping your lips around his tip. He grabs onto your hair, as an anchor for himself and a guiding force for you.

There's a need in you to draw it out, to test his control, and you bob your head to build a steady rhythm. He finally grunts in frustration and begins thrusting in time with your movements, his hand tightening its hold on your hair.  Drawing away for air, you watch as he continues to thrust, suddenly left without the hot, wet cavern of your mouth.

Frustration sounds deep in his throat and he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are darker than ever before, stormy even now without the snow reflecting off them.

“You gonna be a fucking tease? Or are you gonna let me fuck your throat?”

A fresh wave of arousal rushes to your core, leaking onto the shower floor.

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, dizzy with need. “Please fuck my throat, Will. I need it.”

He groans, taking hold of his cock momentarily so he can give it a few pumps, then turns off the water.

“You like being told what to do?” His voice is deep, laced with something dark. It has you quivering with need. There’s a primal need inside you to please this man.

“Only by you.”

Will swears again, grabbing your face so he can kiss you. It’s all tongues and teeth— feral and desperate. A match lit next to a tank of gasoline.

“I want you to grab a towel, dry off, and get on the bed. Can you do that for me?”

Nodding, you open the shower door and grab a clean towel, drying yourself off as quickly as possible, then settle on Will’s bed, waiting for further instruction.

He saunters in and stands by the side of the bed, hand still on his cock.

“Get on your back and face me.”

Following his orders feels like second nature. Will stands above you, where you can see the underside of him while he strokes himself. Slowly, carefully, he guides his dick towards your mouth. You’re open and waiting for him eagerly but he takes his time, ghosting the tip over your lips, smearing them with precum that’s pearling at the top.

Trying your luck with his patience, you lap at the tip of him with your tongue and Will hisses, then pinches your nipple harshly, tearing a gasp from you.

“Did I say you could do that?” Will’s voice is low and dangerous, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“No,” you reply.

“Do as I say and I’ll fuck your pussy good until you forget your name. Can you be a good girl for me?”

Swallowing heavily, you gasp out a breathless “yes.”

“Tap my thigh twice if you want me to stop, okay? Or tell me to stop with your words.” His voice is a little softer at the moment, making sure you know he wants to respect your boundaries.

Will starts off slow, giving you a chance to get used to his length. Grabbing onto the back of his thighs for purchase, you seek to take him deeper. He complies, driving his hips towards your awaiting mouth. When he enters your throat, you suppress your gag reflex and feel him slide deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.”

His hand slides to your neck to feel himself there, absolutely entranced by the sight of you choking him down, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. You’re beginning to make a mess of yourself, saliva coating your face mixing with the precum drooling from Will’s pulsing cock.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he grits out, reaching forward so he can rub your clit in harsh circles. His biceps flex with the force of his movements/ The sounds coming from your mouth are obscene, but you don’t have it in you to feel self conscious about them. There’s something building inside you, about to crash to the surface, and you can’t even warn him.

Somehow he senses it, squeezing his other hand lightly around your throat in time with his thrusts, and then he lets go, pulling himself out quickly while you cry out, your thighs quivering with the intensity of your orgasm.

Rubbing you through it, his touches become lighter, a little more soft. Will bends down so he’s at face level with you, kissing your tears away, wiping at your chin while you gasp for air.

He gives you a few minutes to recover, stroking your hair gently, then murmurs in your ear.

“Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Or are you too worn out?”

You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, signifying your answer.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Will growls at that, hauling you up so your head rests on the pillows, and takes no time to line himself up and thrust into you. The thrusts start off a little shallow, a tease of what’s to come, and you whine, gyrating your hips in little circles to take him deeper.

“Look at you,” he laughs. “So fucking eager for my dick. You’ve thought about this before, huh?”

The only answer you can manage is a cry as Will starts to thrust himself in further, fucking into you.

“I’ve thought about it too,” he confesses. “Thought about all those boys on Tinder who couldn’t satisfy you, wondered if you thought about me while they were fucking you.”

“Yes, fuck. I did.”

“They couldn’t give you what you needed,” he tells you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust. “They couldn’t because none of them were me.”

“Fuck– yes, yesyesyesyes. Will. None of them compare to you.”

“Gonna give you the rest of my cock. Can you take it?”

“Yes, please, please give me your cock. I need it.”

“You beg so pretty for me,” Will grits, cock punching into you with hard thrusts of his hips. He hits something inside of you that has you tingling all over. Nothing else exists in this moment, just Will, fucking into you, and the wet slap of skin as his balls touch your ass.

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, panting. “Your cunt gonna milk my cock?”

Your moans are getting louder, more insistent as he whispers filth into your ear.

“You’re gonna feel me for days, honey. Gonna mark you up real good so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Suddenly you’re clenching around him, squeezing his cock like a vice as spasms erupt through your body. There’s a moment before it crests where you’re gasping for air, face hot and body trembling like a leaf, then the band snaps and you’re gushing, squirting your release all over the bed.

“Fuck, that was hot. I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“Inside.”

That one word is all it takes before he’s shouting, pumping his hot seed into your cunt. Riding you all the way through it until you’re both twitching with overstimulation.

Once he takes a moment to recover, he kisses you, slow and languid, then disappears for a few minutes, returning with a glass of water and a towel.

“Drink this,” he murmurs, holding the glass up to your mouth as he props your body up. Once he’s satisfied, he takes the glass from you and proceeds to clean you up with the utmost care, a stark contrast to just a few minutes ago.

“Are you okay?” He looks worried, as if he wonders if he went too far.

“I’m incredible,” you answer, giving him a lazy, contented smile.

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees, giving you the same private grin he had given you in the car earlier that day.

“I’m going to change the sheets, and then you’re going to rest up. We have a lot of lost time to make up for; Want to get it all in before the snow lets up.”

“But first hot chocolate, right? I’ll make it. I have my own special recipe.”

Will’s eyes twinkle with the same fond look he’s always given you— but this time you know what that look means.

Beneath their feet were flowers, thousands and thousands of damp blooms that gave off a sickly-sweet scent. They were various colors: deep pink, pale blue, gold, and ruby red. The shades of them were now muddled and dirty from their march. They could not step anywhere without crushing them with their boots, making a tacky, syrupy paste as they cautiously advanced through the strange forest. 

Thor’s senses were sharp. The breath of something wrong whispered at the nape of his neck, and ruffled his braided hair. It was why they were here to begin with. Asldan was under Asgard’s protection and there had been rumors that a dark presence had enveloped the area that surrounded Mt. Gorna. Rumor became fact when a group of villagers disappeared on a hunt. Their bones - bleached and picked clean - had been left on the path as a warning. 

“It’s orcs,” Loki surmised - his long fingers tapping his chin as he studied the area around the skeleton pile. Thor wrinkled his nose at the thought. He disliked orcs immensely. The smell alone would stick to your clothes for weeks.

“I’ll do a search,” Thor suggested. “Check out the forest. Find their camp if they have one.”

“You’ll need back-up, of course.”

Thor lifted a mocking brow. “So concerned for your brother?”

Loki narrowed his gaze. “No,” he replied stiffly. “But - your lovely lightning show won’t work on this planet.” He pointed up to the sky where the moon hung - its pearly sheen had a touch of pink. “Blood moon - it tempers our energy.”

“Just fists then?”

Loki nodded. "Your favorite."

“I assume you’ll be joining me then?”

“I’ve called someone better.”

Thor frowned. On the surface, his brother’s expression appeared impassive, but Thor knew him well enough to sense trickery afoot. 

“Who-”

“Loki?” A soft, throaty voice sounded from the entrance to the village. It pierced Thor through the chest - finding the exact vulnerable center of him. He momentarily shut his eyes at the familiarity of that voice. The ache of it sang through his head with the same comfort as his mother’s lullabies.

He dragged a hand through his hair and stared at his brother, incredulous. Loki smirked. 

"You didn’t,” Thor murmured, peeking over Loki’s shoulder. His heart plummeted. 

“It’ll be good for you both,” Loki returned under his breath. 

When she finally spotted Thor, the look on her face said differently. 

***

The forest was so dim that it seemed as if the shadows pulled at their clothes and hair. She marched ahead, the darkness drinking her skin - consuming it with relish. Thor tried to keep close, afraid he’d lose her in the night. She wasn’t making it easy.

She’d barely said a word to him since she’d arrived, apparently not realizing that Thor would be there. When Loki admitted that he wouldn’t be joining them as well, her expression twisted into something murderous.

“I’ve got to do things here.”

“Like what?”

“Wait for the other reinforcements. It’ll be easy, pet. You’re doing some simple reconnaissance.”

“I hope you choke.”

Thor had had enough of her silence. It unsettled him especially when they had once shared everything with each other. 

“I’m glad you came,” he finally exclaimed - a little too loud even for him. “I-I know things have been difficult between us-”

She whirled around forcing him to abruptly halt to avoid crashing into her. Her eyes narrowed to slits, pinning him to the spot. “I came because Loki asked. I didn't come for you.”

Thor grimaced. Of course, she did. He had been foolish to think otherwise. Their history was complicated. They’d been childhood friends, connected at the hip. They’d also been betrothed in the sense that his father had wanted it and intended for it to happen. After Thor had begun to understand his father’s intentions, he rebelled and rebelled hard. He threw the whole of his weight against his father’s wishes. They were too young. He had so much left to do and see and conquer. 

She was his adorable friend who had driven both him and Loki insane. Their proverbial third wheel. He could not fit her into a different box. They’d fought and scratched and played knights and witches. 

One time, Thor had accidentally knocked her out of their treehouse and she’d broken her arm. It had taken weeks for her to forgive him. She’d ignored every attempt he’d made to fix it. Gifts. Sweets. Animals he’d snatched from the garden. Finally, she’d shoved him into the lake outside the palace and he’d cracked his head open. Only then was it fair. That’s how it was. Wild, horse-play. 

As they had gotten older, things had inevitably turned. Thor was off winning wars and discovering his baser needs. She was at home - training with Sif or learning magic from his mother. 

The worst part was that he knew she was in love with him. He saw it plainly on her face every time he returned from a battle or a hunt. He’d sweep her up in his arms as a greeting.  

“My favorite girl,” he’d murmur as she beamed at him. He’d kiss her cheek, set her down, and then promptly abandon her for a celebration at the tavern or the brothel (usually both).

“You’re leading her on,” Loki accused. 

“I’m not,” Thor snapped. “I’m just not ready to settle down.”

“If you did, would it even be with her?”

“If father wishes it.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” Loki hissed. “How sweet of Thor to marry you out of duty when you are so utterly in love with him.”

“I do care for her,” he countered with equal irritation. “Why are you so angry about this anyway? Sounds as if you want to marry her.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Fuck off. She’s the only person who makes you bearable.”

Thor had assumed she’d wait. Of course, he had not, outright, communicated this with her, but he had thought it obvious. She’d adored him and while it may have waned in the years he was proving himself to his father, he had still spent so much of his time with her. 

Until, he’d fucked it. He’d thoroughly wrecked the connection between them.

He’d gotten dead drunk at her birthday party and his actions had hurt her feelings terribly. She had never really looked at him the same way again and Thor had suffered for it. He’d been blind to her, realizing too late just how much he had actually loved her and her presence in his life. 

So lost in his memories, Thor didn’t realize that they had begun to enter the area of the forest they intended to examine. This was where the villagers had claimed the hunters disappeared. She stopped suddenly - shooting her arm out to block him from going deeper.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered. Thor stilled - his instincts taking over as he pricked up his ears to listen to the night. At first, there was only the crunch of the matted flowers under their boots. There was her unsteady breathing and the thrum of her heart mixed with his own.

Then he caught it. The trees creaked and the leaves rasped and beneath it was the rumble of feet and ragged grunting and then the smell. There it was: the unmistakable stench of unbathed creatures and blood and soiled leather. 

“That’s-that’s a lot of orcs,” she mumbled as Thor lifted his hammer. It would only work as a bludgeoning tool due to the blood moon. He could feel it just as Loki had said. It felt like he was being pinned down by a giant fist that he could not shake or wiggle out from under. She pulled her twin blades from their sheaths - the handles bone-white and shiny in the dark.

“Didn’t I give you those?” he remarked casually, trying very hard to keep the worry from his voice.

“You did,” she confirmed - her eyes flickering from one tree to the next - her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. The orcs’ howls were distorting - rolling together and exploding as one, organized shriek. As the creatures came closer, their cries battered against them. Thor’s ears rang as he squared his feet, twirling his hammer in his hands. He crouched, ready to attack and she matched him. The orcs were surrounding them - yellow stares glinting in the pitch-black foliage. There was the whoosh of an arrow that narrowly missed his head. He tensed as it embedded itself into the bark of the tree behind him. 

“Maybe - it’ll be fun,” she joked, giving him a sidelong glance that was obviously strained.

He began to realize that he’d made a mistake allowing her to come here. He’d made a mistake not gathering reinforcements. The forest began to shudder. The wind picked up and dragged that wretched smell to them.   

***

It was startling to watch her fight. She had only gotten better - transforming from the sweet, soft girl she had been to something fiercer - razor-sharp. She plunged her dagger into an orc’s mouth before wrenching it away and through the tissue of its jaw. There was a fountain of black blood that splattered across her face. She huffed, wiping the back of her hand over her cheek and smearing it down her skin. Her lips twitched into an amused smile that made Thor’s gut twist, his balls draw up tight, and his cock fill.

He could almost hear his brother in his head. Now is not the time, you lech.

She was a revelation - parrying and darting as she cleaved her way through the horde of enemies. When one of her knives was kicked from her hand, she stole the ugly, crooked sword from an orc double her size. After she disarmed it, she spun in an arc, her blade swiping with an audible ting as she severed flesh, bone and tissue. A head bounced. A second. She slit another from sternum to belly, the orc’s entrails spilling out and steaming in the frigid air.

Thor was handling as many as he could, attempting to act as a barrier between the flood of orcs and the girl at his side. 

Though he had certainly faced off against fiercer enemies, it seemed as if the numbers would not dwindle. Wave after wave of them slammed into Thor and then into her - circling around the both of them before pressing inward with the same force of a rock slide. Thor tried to look over the crowd in order to see an end to it, but there was none. Just the shadows and the trees and the moist fog. This was an army. 

“Not good,” she managed to grit out before gasping when a gnarled blade bit her skin. “Where the fuck is Loki? Sif?”

“I don’t know,” Thor snapped before stumbling forward when something hard came down across the back of his head. It dazed him for a moment, which was enough for a surging mass of orcs to overcome him. Gleeful, they rained blows down upon him, their swords nicking whatever bare skin was available to them. He was furious. Orcs, all things, did not get the better of him and surged upward with a roar that echoed off the smooth tree trunks. He shoved them away, heaving his hammer into one skull and then the next. The crack and splinter of bone. The slick noise of soft tissue. His skin stung and he could feel hot blood drip down the nape of his neck and into his undershirt. When he glanced in her direction, she was faring no better. She was visibly weary as she pushed back against her attackers. They could not be captured by them. Orcs were horrific beings who would probably do horrific things, drawing out their pain until there was nothing left. It was also highly embarrassing for the crown prince to be defeated in such a way.

They needed an escape - a place they could hide and wait until Loki and whichever reinforcements he’d called could come and find them. He did not like to be weak and this planet - this moon - was draining him of his powers. He should have prepared better. He should have made sure it was safe to bring her in the first place.

“I-I think this is not going the way we hoped,” she said - her voice wary. She cast him a sharp glance, there was a line of red across her cheek that had begun to bead with blood. “It would be really very embarrassing if you and I get beaten by a pack of orcs.”

“To be fair,” He grunted as a club came down upon his shoulder and caused him to stumble. “They’re a lot of them and some look quite bigger than usual.”

She huffed a laugh before dodging the wide swing of blade that nearly took her head. “Maybe - maybe you should-”

She was suddenly cut off and Thor whirled around, fear gripping him. He could no longer spot her under the crowding mass of creatures. “Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck - fuck-” He stormed into the fray, punching and disarming anyone in his path. The air filled with the wet sucking squelch of his blade ripping through orc-flesh. He snapped the neck of one and beheaded the next. He could taste their brackish blood in his mouth. Still, he could not see or even hear her and his stomach twisted at the thought of her being held down and -

There. He spotted the glint of her armor. 

She was struggling under the weight of three orcs. One was on top of her, his claws bound around her throat as he slicked its grainy tongue across her cheek. She was bucking beneath him - trying to wrench herself free, roll out from underneath. 

Thor went cold. His muscles bunched underneath the crash of his rage. It only had to be seconds between when he had lost her to when he had found her, but it felt like an eternity. He was wasting precious seconds as this beast assaulted her. 

Thor charged forward, swinging his hammer with such force that it practically beheaded the two holding her arms. He had other plans for the one straddling her. He dropped the weapon at his feet, lunged forward and wrapped his hands around its neck, lifting it off of her. It took nothing as he ripped its head from its body - the splash of hot blood hitting his boots, its dying gurgle and fragmenting of bone as he tasted its death. 

She sat up - her expression so shocked it was almost endearing. It was an expression she’d used for him before - when they were children and he’d managed to accomplish some wild feat like scaling the palace wall or wrestling a feral beast. He offered his hand and she took it, her fingers trembling slightly as he pulled her to her feet. As soon as she stood, she tugged herself from his grasp. 

He searched her face. “Are you -”

Without another word, she snatched a dagger from his belt and speared it into the eye of the orc who appeared above his shoulder. No doubt about to stab him.

“I liked that dagger,” he mumbled. She was so close to him that he could feel her breath puff against the Adam's apple of his throat. Her gaze raked across his face, her lips twitching before she withdrew the blade - splattering his skin in a warm film of gore. Lovely. 

“You can clean it,” she retorted before adding sweetly. “My prince.” He shuddered, but she had already turned away - already throwing herself back into the fray. The orcs continued to flood out from the shadows like an untapped spout. They looked as if they were coated in oil. Their ears curled and disfigured and their hair dark and lank and greasy. Some were massive, muscular and tall. Others short and swift. Thor had to admit that without his ability to harness lightning, they could not quell this. 

He needed to change course. Immediately. She’d never give up - never stop - she’d fight until she dropped, which was exactly how he used to be. He’d learned to be patient - to strategize and think before striving for a violent victory that could cost him.

He’d die before allowing her to fall to this. 

He began to move closer to her, lifting his hammer from the groundand swinging it through the mass of shrieking orcs. He could grab her and run - run until they found a place to hide and then wait for Loki. They were out of options and he could see that she was waning under the onslaught of weapons. She was cut and bleeding and though she would heal quickly, she needed rest to do that. Thor made a decision and he would not wait for her opinion. He wouldn’t put it past her to want to remain in order to prove something. He sped toward her, his arm shooting out and gripping her wrist before dragging her toward the deep of the forest.

“Don’t let go of me,” he ordered as he began to sprint through the woods. The gnarled branches still hid the blood-moon. There was no clear path and so Thor relied on his senses, hoping that the Gods would lead him to a place they could mend. His adrenaline pulsed and his muscles shivered and tensed as he pushed and pushed forward. 

The cool air licked at his hair and his stinging skin. He could finally breathe.

***

Thor grunted as he slid the enormous boulder against the entrance to the cave. She’d spotted it in the rock wall of mt. Gorna. Thor would never have noticed it, but he knew that she had a different connection to the natural world. She was quiet - softer - more in tune with spirits than he was. He could wrestle a storm. She could speak to things beyond the veil of reality. His mother was similar and he had always assumed that Odin had chosen her for him because of that tether to a magic Thor could not touch. 

“Well,” He clapped his hands together as he smiled down at her. “Looks like we’ll just wait.”

She slid her hand over a pile of stones and they shimmered dully - casting off a pale blue glow that bleached the shadows away. “Do you think of any of them saw us?”

“No,” Thor said as he sat down beside her. His muscles screamed at him, his knees popping as he leaned back against the cave wall. “We would have known by now.”

“Or they’re just waiting to make their move.”

“They aren’t that intelligent.”

She scoffed, but didn’t argue. Instead, she ran her knuckles across her cheek, gasping when she hit something tender. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched and he dropped his hand. 

“Are you alright?” He attempted, instead. 

“Well, everything hurts and an orc licked my face and probably gave me some hideous disease,” she replied flatly. “I’m fantastic.”

His own frame ached. His body bruised and battered and a throbbing had begun to swell inside his skull. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he admitted. “I should have handled it better. I didn’t expect there to be so many.”

She shrugged. “I came knowing the risks”

“You came because of Loki.”

“I did.”

They settled into another awkward silence. He hadn’t spoken to her in months and when he did, there were few words exchanged. He’d gone to Midgard, battled with Loki though that conflict had not yet completely healed. He’d become worthy. He’d had the uncomfortable epiphany that he had not been a good man. He wanted to rectify that and it started with her and how he had betrayed her at her birthday festivities a year ago. It had been the first time that he had well and truly noticed how beautiful she had become. Not just his adorable, girlish shadow who worshiped him, but alarmingly stunning.

***

“Thor,” Frigga snapped. “Please don’t overdo it. The party has barely begun.”

Thor rolled his eyes, spread out in his own seat beside his brother. He gripped his ale and hugged it firmly to his chest as he scanned the crowd. They’d been gone for months on a campaign in Vanaheim and he was itching to return to all his familiar hobbies like getting thoroughly drunk and bedding all the women he could.

Loki swirled his wine, squinting into the glass. “Father spared no expense for this. This wine is from Alfheim.”

“It’s a welcome party, too,” Thor pointed out. “A celebration of our victory.”

“You shouldn’t celebrate too hard, brother. She hasn’t even arrived.”

“Yes…yes,” he sighed as he sat up in his seat, drumming his fingers against the marble table. He hadn’t been able to relax during those long months away. It had been tense and violent and seemingly unending. “Where is the little demon, anyway? She has always greeted us on our return.”

Loki smirked. “According to mother, her maids have been attending to her all day. You’d think father was preparing her for sale.”

Thor lifted an eyebrow. “Very funny.”

“Ah yes,” Loki tipped his head. “How could I forget that she’s yours?”

Thor grit his jaw. “It isn’t like that. She can do whatever she wants.”

“-and she wants you.”

“Loki-“

Suddenly, the volume in the great hall receded to a murmur. Frigga hurried to her seat, squeezing both of her sons’ shoulders with an expression that pointedly said - behave. Thor didn’t understand why his mother was so excited. He watched as his father entered the hall, his white hair brushed away from his face as his eye fell upon his sons. He smiled, announcing the honored guest’s name, turning behind him to take her hand and guide her inside. 

At the sight of her, both Thor and Loki inhaled sharply. She had changed in the months they had been gone. She had completely grown into her features. The make-up only accentuated them. The dress clung to her, gauzy and pale and shimmering like a star fall. Thor swallowed as his brother shot him a bewildered look. She had been pretty before, of course. But - now - she was devastating. 

***

Thor drank and did not stop. He watched her - unable to focus on anything else. He watched as she accepted every man’s invitation to dance. He watched as she laughed and sang along to the music and did not look once in his direction. 

Even Loki had finally gone up to her, embracing her warmly while casting Thor a delighted snicker above her head. 

When Loki returned to his seat, he was direct with his warning. “If you don’t speak to her, she will forget your existence, brother and then what will you do?”

That had been enough to startle him. Thor had never truly had to strive for attention. He had been handed everything, especially with women. He huffed when another man confronted her, offering his arm to guide her to where the band played.

“Enough,” Thor growled as he stood abruptly, knocking his goblet across the table. He ignored it, swiftly kicking his chair back and heading toward her. 

He directed a hellbent glare at the man who held her arm and he released her almost immediately. “Apologies,” he said before disappearing into the crowd. She frowned - perplexed before noticing Thor.

Her face softened and Thor felt something bright unfurl in his chest. She was still his.  

“Did you do that?” She didn’t sound angry, in fact, her lips lifted in a small smile that Thor returned. 

“I may have.”

“How rude.”

 He shrugged as he strolled toward her, his eyes raking over her body - the dress that clung to her. She shifted under his scrutiny. “I didn’t like him touching you.”

She inhaled, her gaze widening a fraction. “Oh.”

He cocked his head. “Oh?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she seemed to focus on his breastplate. She wrapped her arms around herself - a nervous habit that she’d exhibited since she was a girl. It was then that Thor realized just how well he knew her. He knew her scent - her tics - her likes and dislikes. Quickly, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her away from the main floor. He crowded her up against one of the marbled columns, his cape enough to cover them. 

He took her chin between his hands, gently tipping her face up. Their eyes met and her mouth parted. He dug his thumb into flesh beneath her lower lip while wedging his thigh between her legs. “What are you doing?” she murmured, clutching at his waist. 

He lowered his head as if about to kiss her before suddenly veering to the side to skim his mouth across her cheek - the line of her jaw. She dug her fingers into his armor and made a pained sort of mewl that went straight to his cock. “Thor,” she whimpered and oh that sang to him. He wanted to fuck her right there. The alcohol had sufficiently made him loose and too warm. He felt as if he had a fever. He grasped the back of her head, fisting her hair that had been so artfully done up. He intended to ruin it - to pull her costume apart inch by inch. He ducked down again to press his lips to her ear.  

“How lovely you are,” he marveled and she shivered. “Are you mine?”

He didn’t know what had come over him. He had never been so desperate to possess a woman like this. He was fearful. He was anxious that she’d be taken from him by someone else - someone who didn’t understand her as he did.

He shoved his thigh against her - the muscle of it rubbing into the hot, slick place between her legs. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” she answered - her grip on him tightening. “Yes - I’m yours.”

He glanced toward the dance floor then the banquet tables. The last of the dessert was being served. His head was too heavy for this. His cock distractingly hard. He knew she’d have to thank her guests - say goodnight to Odin and Frigga. 

“Come to my chambers after you’ve finished,” he instructed, before pulling her fiercely against him and bending down to suck a kiss into her neck. She jerked at the friction of his mouth - her gasp brushing his long hair. When he drew away, she looked dazed, her lashes fluttering and her lids heavy. He smirked, shooting her one last wink before striding off to his room.

Of course, nothing had gone as planned. 

He’d found Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun drinking in his chambers. They’d goaded him into drinking more, which he did until he could barely see straight. There’d been others there - women - and it had all gone fuzzy. The next thing he knew, she was staring down at him - her expression crushed. He had grinned, reaching out to her only to have her lurch away from him.

“What is it?” he asked before realizing that he was in his bed - naked - with two women on either side of him.”Wait-” he started as he tried to crawl out of the bed.

“Don’t,” she said - her voice soft and wet and unmistakably broken. She shook her head, swiping at her eyes before she rolled her shoulders back and pinned him with a glower he could feel down to his bones. “You haven’t changed at all,” She released a bitter laugh before turning on her heel and fleeing. 

***

“So,” Thor began as he circled his wrists. “Are we going to talk about that night?”

“What night?” She stood up, wiping the dust from her knees. 

She was going to play it that way.

“You know how sorry-”

She turned to look at him, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Who cares about that night, Thor? It was just you being you - stringing me along for your amusement.”

“No,” He stood up as well. The cave wasn’t exactly spacious and, by taking one step forward, he was already looming over her. “I got drunk, but I had every intention of-of being with you that night. I wanted you.”

She stared up at him - her brow furrowed. “And? That wasn’t a one-time thing, Thor. You’ve always dealt with me that way. You’ve done it since we were teenagers.” She poked him hard in the chest and he stumbled back - surprised. “You couldn’t just tell me that you didn’t want to be with me.”

“It’s-it’s not that I didn’t like you. It was - I had more to do. I had more to see. We were so young and I didn’t want to settle down. I wanted to be able to explore - find adventures-”

Her eyes widened. “Did it ever occur to you that I would have let you? I was your friend first. I would have gladly encouraged you to run off…to travel.” She shook her head, her voice lowering. “I would have gone on them with you.” She blew out a breath, her fingers coming up to rub her temples. “You always saw me as this irritating nuisance who got in your way. You saw me as your littler sister. You never took me seriously.”

“I’ll have you know that I did not see you as a sister,” he argued. “Trust me. There were many nights where I thought-”

“Oh fucking save it,” she hissed in such a venmous way that it actually silenced him. He felt like he’d been slapped. “My problem was the fact that you strung me along for years. You hurt me - devastated me. You-you fucked my friends over me and I couldn’t understand why? I didn’t get why I was so ugly to you.”

He opened his mouth before shutting it quickly - at a loss. “You only decided that you wanted me when it became obvious that there were others who might want me, too.” She huffed out an ugly laugh. “Typical.”

“I-I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.”

“Is it not?” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “Isn’t that your way, Thor? Take everything that you can’t have. Refuse anything that isn’t on your terms. Did you run off to Midgard and come back with your head on straight - have some weird revelation?”

“Well - actually - yes.” He stepped closer to her and she didn’t move away. “I treated you terribly. I know that. I want to make it right.”

She blinked at her. Her demeanor was cool and yet he could see her fingers trembling against her arm. He was getting to her - he was cracking the indifferent mask she’d shoved up. He gingerly took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I did love you - I do love you. I just - just wasn’t ready then.”

“You humiliated me.” She murmured so quietly that he almost missed it. For a second, her face sagged, her grief blatant and fierce and then she swallowed it. She pulled away from him, wiping her cheeks and averting her gaze.

“I know I did,” he replied helplessly. “I’m sorry. I-I truly hurt you and I know it. I felt it. I didn’t think. I never thought then. I never thought of others and I certainly didn’t think of you.” His voice had risen to something frantic. He wasn’t usually this unstable. He was very clearly losing this argument and he didn’t know how to prove that he had grown into his roots - that he had become the man she had wished for. He would have been a terrible partner then. He would have been unfaithful and rebellious. He opened his arms helplessly. “Tell me what to do to make it right.”

She scrutinized him for a moment before slumping back against the wall. “Why don’t we just-just try and sleep for a bit. This cave is giving me a headache. I think I’m allergic to something.”

“But-”

“Please,” she begged - her look pointed and direct and brooking no room for argument. 

He nodded. 

***

They sat in silence. Uncomfortable, agonizing silence. She was right. Thor did blissfully race through life without thinking of the consequences. He’d go on journeys under the guise of keeping Asgard safe, but it had always been for him and his honor and to make his father proud. He rested the crown of his head against the wall before peeking at her again. She was on her back, one of her fingers caught in her hair. Her mouth parted and her chest rising and falling slowly. Thank the Gods, he thought. Sleep would ensure that their bodies would knit back together. It would restore their strength. 

He crossed his arms over his chest. The blood from his wounds had stuck his armor to him. He longed to remove it, but they were still in enemy territory. It would be too dangerous.

He tried to ignore it, instead focusing on her breathing, on the delicate thrum of her heart in the cool, dim light of their hideout. He prayed for sleep and blessedly, it came to him.

***

“Thor..”

He dreamed of her, which was nothing new. He dreamed of her so often that it had become a problem. 

“Thor…”

She purred his name into his ear as he moved over her, covering her with his body as he rocked forward. She gasped, nails digging into his ribs, her lashes fluttering as she tipped her head back. He sealed his mouth to her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. He drew back - bearing his weight to anchor himself so he could slide deeper. She clung to the backs of his arms before her hands skated down his naked back, his undulated muscles, and found his ass. She gripped it - forcing it down - forcing him further inside her until he was buried to the hilt. “Is that how you want it, little one? Deep and hard?”

“Thor!”

He startled awake - his arms shooting out to punch whatever had distressed her. He frowned. They were still in the cave. There was still the dull glow from the stones beside her head.. 

“Thor…” she gasped and it came out choked. He looked at her and felt his heart jump into his throat. She was sweating, her eyes glassy and her lip nearly bitten through between her teeth. He crawled toward her and when he reached her, he slid his arms around her waist and tugged her into his lap. He brushed his knuckles over her cheeks - her brow that was now dripping with perspiration. She was hot to the touch - deadly hot. 

“Is it a wound?” he asked - thoroughly panicked now. Was this an infection? Had the blades been poisoned? He coughed as something tickled his throat. He rubbed his nose where a burning sensation had begun to grow. She gazed up at him, her forehead creased in pain. She lifted her hand and pointed to the ceiling. Thor looked. 

At first, he thought it was just the texture of the rock, but when he squinted he realized that the entire top of the cave was coated in what looked like a fungus. Emerald green. Shiny. No doubt full of pollen. 

How had they not seen that?

“Only-only opens at dawn,” she slurred. Thor glanced over his shoulder and observed that red-pink light had begun to slip through the tiny openings in the stone they’d used to cover the entrance. He could see her face better. He could see that there was a thin film of gold on her lips - her nose and cheeks and chin. She must have been hit harder because she was on her back with her face pointed at the ceiling.

But still - it would have traveled and he’d -

There was a warm coiling in his stomach. He hadn’t noticed it at first. He’d been too worried about her. His skin was beginning to ache as if it was on too tight. His bones too big. He coughed again and when his palm cupped her cheek, it felt like he was cradling cool water. She blinked up at him - her pupils black and eating away at the natural color of her eyes. 

Her breathing had turned shallow, her chest beginning to heave in short pulses. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that made his vision blur. His cock was filling and when he caught her gaze, he realized that she could feel it - nudging her lower back. Her mouth parted and she lifted her hand to graze it across his jaw, her thumb finding his lower lip before she dug the tip in. He rumbled - nearly lurching against her. 

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered. But her body wanted it. Her eyes were direct and hard on him. He wanted to bring her closer - as close as physically possible. Every piece of him demanded to find solace inside her - to fuck her and lick her and devour her whole. 

No. No. He couldn’t.

He slid out from underneath her, scuttling backward until his spine hit the wall. She whimpered, rolling onto her side, her arms reaching out to him. 

“It’s the pollen,” Thor said as his groin pulsed and throbbed, his cock was now shoving up against his trousers. He reached underneath the band to maneuver it up, relieve the pressure. “This isn’t you.”

She didn’t want him. She’d made that clear and he did not want her if she was under some spell - some biological aphrodisiac that was manipulating her body like a puppet. 

When her fingers found his wrist, he jerked. Her touch was exquisite - it was like a cold drink of good ale after weeks of being parched. He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth - his entire body was tense as a knot. He could not unleash it. He could not relax for a moment because if he did, he’d pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless. 

She was wheezing as she tried to curl into a ball. One of her hands rested against her abdomen where she had undoubtedly begun to cramp. Her voice cracked as she begged him. “Thor - this - this is a very dire situation. We’ll die.”

“We may not,” He grunted - his breathing had grown ragged. “Loki will come for us.”

“And then we will have to get to a village and find an antidote and I’ve already inhaled too much of it.” Her words folded in on one another. There was a syrupy slur as she struggled to enunciate.

She was right. He couldn’t let her die and even if it didn’t kill her, the pain was obvious. She was trying to hide it. He could see it plainly in her face as her brows drew together and she bit her lower lip. She was hurting. Badly. 

“It’s okay,” Her lips peeled into a tense grin that looked a smidge wild. “I-I trust you.”

He groaned, shoving a shaky hand through his hair - loosening the braids. A lock of gold fell across his forehead, the end of it touching his lip. It burned. Every sensation that wasn’t her stung him. He was drenched in sweat and salt and blood. His ribs hurt from the earlier fight. “I won’t be able to control myself. I won’t-won’t be able to go easy on you.”

“I know. It’ll-it’ll be fine.” She was nodding frantically - crawling toward him.

He pinned her with pointed glare because he didn’t believe she understood what she was signing up for. “I’m big, sweet one. It’s a lot.”

She shuddered, her breath hitching as she gazed up at him through her lashes. At some point during the night, she had gotten her armor partially down. He could see her breasts rising and falling where she’d loosened it. He’d have to help her out of the rest “I want you,” she demanded in a husky voice. “I can handle it.”

“It’s the pollen talking.”

“It’s not,” she whined as she twitched and shivered. “It’s not just the pollen. It’s-it’s making me want to fuck,yes… but I-I have enough of my-my faculties to know that I love you.”

He stilled. “You just said you didn’t.”

She made a wounded sound before she crept closer to him. Her eyes were dark and delirious but still hers. “I never said I didn’t still love you, Thor. I-I said you hurt me and I said that I didn’t believe you - didn’t believe that you really wanted me.” She sat back on her heels to regard him steadily. She was a sight with her hair wild about her face and her armor and undershirt falling down to reveal the tops of her breasts. Her skin swimming in gold from the pollen. “I was just-just trying -” A tremor shook her frame and Thor sat up, gripping her hand to steady her. “I was just going to make you suffer a little until you begged and now-” Her voice broke and, to Thor’s horror, there were tears slipping down her cheeks. “ - now you’re making me suffer because you’re - you’re now deciding to be gallant and-and it fucking stings, Thor. Please. Please.” She whimpered.”You-you really are a fucking ass-”

He wrenched her forward, one arm snaking around her waist as he turned her on her back. His other hand released her wrist to come up and cradle her scalp as he kissed her. It was like a balm - a rush of relief that made him groan and pull her tighter. It was then that the pollen seemed to reach its crescendo inside of him - it swept him up in its hold - it caused warmth and desire to flood his veins. It ached in a way that startled him. It ached like he could not fix it unless he’d had her and he realized quite suddenly that when he had kissed her, he had also licked the pollen from her mouth.

Good. Then it would be devastating for both of them.

“Thor,” she moaned. “Fuck - yes yes yes please.”

He growled, the scent of her drowning him deep. She yanked on his hair to pull him closer. He coaxed her lips apart, thrusting his tongue into the well of her perfect little mouth.

They were intertwined, her arms wrapped around his neck as she nibbled on her lower lip. He snarled as a cramp took him. “Fuck,” he rasped against her teeth. “Fuck - that hurts. I’m sorry - sorry - didn’t know - I would have touched you sooner.”

“It’s fine,” she replied, winding her fingers through his braid and fisting it. They were devouring each other at this point - tongue and teeth and swallowing the other’s breath. He slid his hand beneath her leather skirt, down the inside of her thigh until he reached her knees, he pried them apart. “You were-were just trying to be good.”

He was. He was. He was trying to make up for all the other times that he had been an arrogant prick to her - the times he had hurt her deeply and the times he had chosen himself over her. 

“Get inside me,” she gasped as his hands held her face. Her skin was screaming hot and it seemed to be getting worse rather than better. “I need - need you bare,” she continued as she lunged forward and crammed her face into his throat. He shoved at her armor, but it was stuck.

“Sit back,” he demanded. “I’ll help you.”

“No,” she murmured - words spilling into each other. “No-I-I can’t.”

Thor went rigid as he felt her start to go boneless. He gently pulled her away from his throat to look at her. Her eyes were heavy lidded and unfocused. Her hair was drenched in sweat and her chest was hitching as she struggled to breathe.

“Damn it,” he cursed. He’d wasted too much time denying her and now she was consumed by it - practically unconscious. He gingerly laid her on her back as he undid her armor. He ripped at the buckles, unhooking the straps as quickly as he could until she was free. He took off his own - wrenching off his chest plate - his cape - untying his trousers before wedging himself between her thighs. He touched her between her legs and she jerked. She was slick and velvety - clenching on nothing until he slid a finger inside her. She gasped, her thighs widening for him - her knees drawing up to find purchase against his ribs. He pressed a second finger into her, curling them, before twisting his thumb up to flick at the swollen bundle of nerves at the peak of her sex. He circled and rubbed and almost immediately, he felt her cunt flutter around him in a climax. He removed his fingers, using her come to wet his own cock that was red and pulsing - standing straight up against his lower stomach. He didn’t think he’d ever been this hard in his life. He might explode - might burn up and snap like a bolt of lightning if he couldn’t get inside her.

“Please,” she begged him. “Not enough - it’s-I need more.”

“I know,” he rumbled as he covered her with his body. He rested his forearm beside her head, his other hand remained around his cock as he guided it against her, rubbing the length through her folds. He had never felt like this - the intensity of the pollen was sending shockwaves through his system - he wanted to fuck and be fucked - his skin was so hypersensitive that it hurt - that even nudging the head of his cock against the seam of her sex made him dribble and spit -

The orgasm had seemingly helped her. She was more present as her palms found his cheeks and his jaw. He nuzzled into them - nosing at her skin. His chest was crushed against her tits and she lifted her hips for him - demanding as he teased her -

“Please,” she repeated. “Thor-”

He drew himself back before snapping forward, sinking into her in one brutal stroke. He nearly finished right then - the tight, wet fist of her cunt unforgiving as it stretched to accommodate him. She was soaked. Blood-hot. A pained groan broke from the back of her throat - from the deep of her belly and he gripped her jaw and captured her mouth, swallowing down the rest of her wounded noises. He stayed there for a moment - allowing her to settle around him, allowing himself to savor the frantic pulses of her pussy around his shaft. “Good - good girl,” he managed to mutter against her lips. He rolled his hips back until only the tip of his cock remained inside her. He lifted himself up, bearing his weight above her as he scrutinized her expression.

“I-I won’t be able to stop,” he warned as he slowly began to push forward, re-sheathing his cock into the drenched ache of her cunt. She arched, her head tipping back as she took him.

“I don’t want you to,” she replied breathlessly. He made a low, hungry noise before gripping her knee and forcing it against her shoulder, the other he shoved to the floor, spreading her apart until she whined. 

He fucked her - fucked her in such a furious, relentless fashion that she would have easily broken if she were any other species. He was overcome by the musky scent of her cunt and the floral grip of her hair. He practically bent her in half as the air vibrated with the staccato slap of his pelvis meeting her ass. Every pump of his hips punched a high-pitched whimper from her mouth. He wanted her sounds, too. He wanted to possess everything she released. He stole every mewl and cry that his cock forced out of her, tongue thrusting behind her teeth as she clung to him. He came and came again. He was incapable of softening and it did not matter. He wanted to fill her up until she couldn’t fit him - until she overflowed and runneth over and, even then, he’d keep going -

The ground was unforgiving against them and, once his head cleared enough, he rolled over so she’d be on top. He planted his feet and slammed up into her, knocking a breathy little squeal from her chest. There was delicious squelching music of her body accommodating his over and over again.. With his hands bracketing her hips, he was enthralled by the sight of her pussy swallowing the thickness of him.

“Take what you need,” he coaxed as he gripped her, rocking her forward and back. She was stunning - her mouth parted on a continuous gasp - her lashes fluttering as she met him stroke for stroke. 

“I wanted to hate you,” she lamented before curling over him and capturing his mouth. His beard scraped across her chin - her jaw. He sat up, sliding his lips down her chest to lick her tits - suck on the soft, ripe buds of her nipples. She held onto him, winding her arms around his shoulders as he teased them with his tongue and teeth. “I hated you so much.”

“I know.” He rasped, smoothing his hand up the spine of her back before sinking it into her hair, he dug his fingertips into her skull as he fucked her - as she fucked him. “You can take it out on me.”

He could see that this act was one mixed with anger and arousal - the two of them so interlocked that he wasn’t sure where she began and he ended. “I didn’t want our first time to be like this,” he admitted as the fever began to even out. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d already finished. He could feel it, though. His cock shoving his spend deeper. The thought of breeding her made him twitch.

“You’re so sentimental,” she teased in a haughty voice that pulled at him. “So soft.”

He stilled before suddenly lifting her off of him and turning her around. He forced her onto all fours - his hand spread across her lower back to pin her down. “I wouldn’t say that,” he growled just as he drove back inside her. 

She gasped - her cunt contracting sharply around him. “Have you ever had something as big as me inside you, little one?”

She shook her head, crying out as he gave her another punishing thrust. “I know you don’t believe me, but I did think of it all the time,” he recalled in a low, conversational voice. He kneaded her ass with his hands, no doubt bruising the skin as he pulled her cheeks apart to watch him disappear inside the slick opening of her sex. He could see where the blades and fists from the orcs had left their marks, but they were disappearing as quickly as they’d come. “I would fantasize about taking you - tasting you. I thought of how your small body would be unable to accept me and how I’d have to lick and eat your cunt until it could.”

She clenched at that, tightening around him in a searing knot of pleasure. Both of them were still burning up with fever - still blooming with it and while every orgasm seemed to bring them back to themselves, it also made them want to fuck harder - kiss harder - break harder. 

“Shit,” he hissed . “You liked that.” He leaned down, banding one of his arms beneath her breasts and hauled her up. Her head rested against his shoulder and he wrapped his hand loosely around her throat. He ground his dick deep as he could, delighting in how she shuddered, her nails biting into his forearm. “I couldn’t stand anyone near you. My brother included.” He drove up in short, hard strokes. He longed to pierce her - impale her on him. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath warm across her temple. “I wanted you so badly. Do you know how hard I got at the sight of you after those months away? You’d grown up - the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I wanted you for myself - wanted to fuck you blind.”

“But you didn’t,” She panted. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips part, her lashes flutter closed as she sank back against him - as she allowed him to use her. “I thought I was hideous to you.”

Abruptly, he withdrew himself from her again. Before she could protest, he spun her around, lifting her into his arms as he stood.He guided her legs around his waist before walking them both to the wall. He rested his hand behind her head to cushion her skull and his eyes raked over her face - staring at her intently - desperate to make her realize. 

“You were everything,” he revealed softly, rubbing his body against hers. “You were the only woman I could say I knew - really knew and, consequently, the only woman who must have understood me.” His cock was still unbearably hard and he nudged the tip lightly against her entrance. He enjoyed the way she unfurled around him - sucking him inside her inch by inch as he fought the instinctual desire to jam himself all the way. “I was scared,” he murmured as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I wasn’t capable of being the man you deserved then.”

“Oh,” she breathed as she grasped the hinge of his jaw, her thumb skating over his beard. “Oh.”

***

“I-I can’t move,” she moaned and Thor chuckled. They were curled up on his cape. Both of them utterly naked and covered in dirt and orc blood and other fluids. 

He spooned her, his leg thrown over hers so that she’d be locked in against him. He did not want her to draw away from him - to separate after all they had figured out. He dropped his head to nuzzle the nape of her neck before he softly bit her shoulder. He stroked her hip - the curves of her waist. 

“I need a bath,” she muttered as she reached back to grab his hand. She threaded her fingers with his and shoved their hands against her chest where her heart was thankfully beating at a regular pace. 

“I like you like this.”

She snorted. 

“Look at you,” he coaxed - pressing himself closer. “Covered in my seed and the blood of our enemies.”

A laugh burst out of her.Thor felt as it shuddered into his chest. He didn’t know what time it was. A day had passed, perhaps? He’d been inside her for most of it and she would no doubt be sore and bruised for a while. He’d been unrelenting as he took her and she had returned it in kind. He could feel bite marks on his throat and there were areas of his back and ass that stung from her nails. He loved it.

“You find that funny, do you?” he asked, moving her hair aside to nip at her jaw. He wondered where Loki was; half wanting him to stay away so he could fuck her again and half-wanting him to return so he could take her somewhere nice like a bed.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged - tracing a finger through the dirt before smearing it along his forearm where all of the slits from the orc blades had vanished. “That was just so very you.”

He raised an eyebrow, pushing himself up on his elbow to catch her innocent gaze. “Is that an insult?”

She scoffed. “Hardly,” She then flashed him a startlingly bright, white-toothed grin that blinded him. “I fell in love with you because you were so very obscene.”

Thor growled, gripping the fat under her thigh to raise it so he could slide against her - pressing in just enough for her breathing to hitch. 

“Obscene, eh?” He lowered his tone to something smug and rough. “I can be cruder…let’s see…do you know how fucking gorgeous you look getting spitted on my cock?”

Her eyes widened and as his fingertips brushed her folds, he could feel how hot that had made her  - how wet and ready. She choked out a soft little mewl noise that he felt down to his toes. She was raw and swollen and chafed and he doubted that it’d be a good idea to fuck her once more. Still - he wanted it and regardless of how humbled he’d been, he still tended to get the things he wanted. Of course, only if she was willing. 

“Could you go again?” he urged, rubbing his cheek against her warm, plush one. He wanted her everywhere. He wanted her inside him. Taste her. Fuck her. Split her open until she was only his as he was hers. Maybe, he’d ask her to mark him until it scarred. Bite the muscle of his throat. Open him up. 

“I think,” she replied, pushing back against him, tangling their legs together.

“Mmm no - you seem unsure,” he observed thoughtfully as he rolled away before gently forcing her flat on her back. He maneuvered himself between her thighs, sitting back on his heels as he grinned down at her. She cocked her head, confused. 

He pushed her legs apart, grasping under her knees and hitching them over his shoulders. He lowered his head to her cunt and licked, kissed, and sucked it until she bucked against his chin. He ate her loudly - humming his pleasure at the taste of not only her, but himself. He could do this for hours. In fact, he intended to do it until he couldn’t breathe - until he smelled of only her and -

“Thor,” she yelped, tightening her fist into his hair.

“I know, my love,” he cooed against her inner thigh - his face firmly buried. “Give me a second one.”

“Thor,” she shrieked again, her foot coming down against his lower back so violently that he sat up. 

“Ow - what?” He squinted down at her, massaging the area she’d smacked. 

She gestured to the giant stone that had apparently been moved to the side while he’d been face-deep in her cunt. His brother stood there - expression seemingly amused, which was no surprise. Loki was never one to act embarrassed.

Chatting idly for a bit, you start to go into a mini rant about how much crap that work project had dumped on you, when Olivia interrupts.

“We need to get you laid, Pip.”

“Yeah if only. Going to be hard to find someone who wants this-” You gesture towards yourself “-when you-” you gesture towards Olivia “-are sitting within my vicinity.”

“Oh whatever. You’re hot!”

“Yeah that’s why I get asked out all the time.” When was the last time you had gotten laid, let alone gone on an actual date?

Olivia fixes you with a look. “I wish you would see yourself through my eyes, Pip. You’re a great person, hot, smart. You have a lot to offer.”

You nod absentmindedly, glancing towards the table in the corner where 5 men erupt into raucous, loud laughter. Heat rises to your cheeks and you look away quickly when the man in the hat glances over at you as if he felt you looking at him, tears running down his face as laughter continues to pour out of him. 

“Anyway, Pip. I’m glad to at least get you out of the house. I would’ve gone nuts sitting at my computer all day. I don’t know how you did it.”

You shrug. “It’s my job.”

“Yeah that’s true. Still, it’s amazing that you-”

“Excuse me?” The man in the hat that you had locked eyes with a few minutes ago is standing at your table, glancing between you both as if asking for your permission to interrupt your conversation. He’s more handsome up close: a dark blue hat sits on his head, a logo for an oil company embroidered in, dark curls flip out from the bottom of the hat and around his ears, curling up and away from his neck. His eyes are a deep chocolate color, his nose is romanesque and beautiful, with a mustache under it, darker patchy facial hair across his cheeks and jaw. He’s broad, his shoulders look massive in the light denim shirt he wears and you can see that the shirt is stretching at the seams as he shifts under it. He tapers down to a thinner waist and hips, the slight swell of a tummy poking from behind his shirt. This man is hot and there’s no way he’s here for you.

“My name is Frankie and I was wondering-”

You put a hand up. “Say no more, Frankie? I’ll just go sit at the bar.”

“No Pip. Stay.” Your friend looks at you from across the small table.

“It’s alright, Olivia. I’ll just be-”

“Actually-” Frankie inerrupts, blushing slightly when you both turn to look at him, his large hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, an obvious nervous habit “-I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”

Oh shit, is he looking at me?

“You mean Olivia?” You point to your friend across the table, ignoring the grin that’s spreading across her face as she looks between you and Frankie.

“No. I mean you.” His voice drops an octave on the last word and you can feel a heat growing inside you. 

“M-me?”

He lets out a chuckle, looking down and back up at you as if he was nervous. “Yeah. But only if you w-want to? Have a drink? W-with me?”

“I-” You’re not used to this attention. Olivia is the one who draws people in, not you. You look to her for advice and see, to your horror, that she’s already gathering up her drink. She mouths at you “You go girl!”, gives you a wink, and then speaks.

“I’ll just go sit at the bar.” She shuffles from her seat and makes her way across the room, sitting at a barstool, tossing one more giant smile over at you, silently pointing to Frankie and making lewd gestures.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks so you look away, finding that Frankie is already looking at you. 

“I- I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m just not used to…this.” You gesture between you both.

Frankie looks shocked. “I find that hard to believe.”

You laugh and Frankie melts. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date-” You visibly wince at your confession, Frankie smiling at you. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, you’re fine. To be honest- may I?” He gestures to Olivia’s empty stool. You nod and gesture to her seat and Frankie sits, resuming his statement. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date too.”

“Really? Someone as handsome as you?”

He blushes, a light pink color dusting across his cheeks. “I don’t know about that but yeah. It’s true…hey did your friend call you Pip?”

You nod, looking down in embarrassment before finding his eyes again. “Yeah it’s short for Pip Squeak. To be honest, I’m not even sure why. We met in kindergarten and she called me that. I think she couldn’t remember my real name so she made it up and it stuck.”

“What’s your real name?”

You tell him and he smiles. “That’s a beautiful name.”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink as Frankie groans. “I’m sorry. Was that too cheesy? It’s been so long I don’t even know how to do this. Has it changed?”

“Don’t ask me, Frankie. I’m definitely not an expert.” You smile at him.

“Would…would you like to find out together?”

“Are…are you asking me on a date?”

“I’m trying to be slick about it.”

You chuckle. “That was so slick it’s oil..shit that was lame.” Frankie tilts his head back and laughs, gifting you a view of his neck. 

“No that was perfect! But is that a yes?”

“I..yes. I’d love to.”

You chat for a bit longer, Frankie walking over to the bar to order a couple more drinks and a basket of fries for you both to share. He’s easy to talk to, has a ton of stories, fucking flies helicopters, and listens to every word you say. The fries arrive and you both grab some, taking a bite and then making faces as you chew. Frankie grabs the napkin from under his beer and spits into it.

“Ok, are those the worst fries ever?”

“They might possibly be.”

He looks up at you. “You…you wanna go on that date now? I know a great diner a few blocks away.”

You cock your head to the side studying his face. “Let’s go.”

Frankie heads back to his friends to tell them he’s leaving while you do the same with Olivia, who is now talking to one of the men from Frankie’s table, who introduces himself as Santi. Fuck does this guy have all handsome friends? Olivia smiles and hugs you, whispering in your ear to be safe as she covertly slides a condom in your pocket. You slap her arm and she laughs, watching you walk away. You meet up with Frankie and he offers you his arm and escorts you out of the now crowded bar. 

“You wanna follow me over? They have a lot in the back.”

“Sure. See you in a few.”

You follow Frankie’s truck out of the parking lot and several blocks down the road, parking in the empty, dark parking lot behind the diner. Frankie escorts you in here as well, the one server inside telling you to sit anywhere as it’s empty. You sit in a booth facing each other, the old leather creaking under each of you as you slide in.

“I’m sorry I don’t have flowers for you. But I can offer you better fries?”

“That works for me!”

You spend a few minutes chatting while looking at the menu, placing your order with the server. When she walks away, Frankie asks you about your job and you tell him about it, and about the project that caused you such a headache over the last 2 months, which led you to come out drinking tonight. The server sets your food in front of you and leaves you be.

“I’m sorry the project sucked but I’m glad it did.” He winks and you smile, dropping your eyes down to the table for a moment.

“But uh, Pip. There’s something I need to tell you before we go further.”

You pause, ketchup plopping onto your plate from the glass bottle you had been banging on. “You’re married.”

“What? No. Not uh..not anymore. I’m divorced.”

“Oh. That’s not anything bad.”

“And I have a kid. A daughter.”

Oh.

“Oh? How old is she?”

Frankie watches you for a moment. “She’s 5. Love of my life.”

“My ex and I split about a year after she was born. I know kids aren’t for everyone, and if you never want to talk to me again after tonight I get it. I’ll still pay for din-”

“As she should be.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”

He swallows hard. “Because I’m a dad.”

“That’s fine with me. I bet you’re a great dad.”

His brown eyes go wide, looking exactly like a puppy. “It really doesn’t bother you?”

“Not me. I don’t mind.”

“It means I have to talk to my ex still.”

“I figured. Joint custody?”

He nods. “50/50.”

“Is it weird if I ask about her? Your daughter. I would never pry into your ex.”

“Yeah! Yeah no it’s not weird. My ex and I split because…well she was fucking her boss so.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone and thumbing through it to find his gallery.

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“It is what it is. It brought me here with you…where the fuck are my photos?” His thumb swipes across the screen, his eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper with each swipe.

“Want some help?”

He looks up at you, sighing in defeat. “Yeah. I’m not so good with the tech shit.”

“You fly helicopters.”

“That’s different. It’s not this shit.” He goes to hand you his phone, already trusting you. But you put your hand up, sliding out of the booth and scooting in next to him. He blushes, scooting down a little more to make room for you.

“This way you can control what you show me. And also it may help your muscle memory.”

“R-right. Ok.”

You start to direct him, very much aware that your thigh is flush against his, feeling heat pass between you as you lean in closer. He smells like french fries, but also like pine with a hint of mint. He finds his gallery and thanks you, flipping to an album marked “Marisol”. He flips through the album, showing you pictures and telling you all about her. His entire body lights up as he gushes about his daughter, wearing the proud dad badge on his chest. 

Before you know it, he pays and you’re scooting out of the booth, Frankie escorting you back around to the poorly-lit, deserted parking lot. You walk up to his truck, admiring it. He had explained to you how it was his grandfathers and that his dad and now him had been keeping it up over the years, replacing the engine and taking care of “her”. She had seen a lot of life and love and it was clear how well she had been taken care of. You turn to face Frankie and tell him just that, and how he should be proud of it. Maybe one day Marisol can help-

And then suddenly he’s in front of you, pushing your back gently into the side of his truck, his lips dusting across yours in a gentle kiss. He pulls back just as quick as he started, taking a step back.

“I’m so sorry, Pip. I should’ve asked. You’re just so-”

You grip his shirt and pull him towards you, completely surprising him and yourself. Your lips find his, kissing him deeply. He licks at your bottom lip and you part them with a sigh, Frankie taking advantage and sliding his tongue in your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands. Your hands come up around his neck, winding into the curls sticking out from under the hat and tugging on them. He moans into your mouth and you do it again, feeling him grip you tighter as he pulls back.

“Pip, if you keep that up, I don’t know if I’ll be able to contain myself.”

Fuck.

“What if I don’t care?” He’s so close that you can feel him through his pants.

“I-Idon’t want you to think that that’s why I asked you out.” He kisses you again, his hips slightly grinding against your leg that he was straddling.

“You could’ve hand anyone in there. Even my friend wanted to fuck you. But you chose me. Why? Why did you choose me?”

He pulls back, tracing the side of your face with his finger. “At first, because I thought you were hot as fuck. But then? Your eyes. They’re…kind. And I could use some kind in my life.” 

He dips down and kisses you again and this time you moan into his mouth, your own hips starting to roll against his thigh, a burning fire rising up inside you. His hands roam down your body and you freeze as he reaches your sides. You know you’re not in shape and you’re ok with it but sometimes it makes you feel really insecure. Frankie feels you tense and he breaks the kiss.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“I..no. No you didn’t hurt me. I just..” You try to push his hands away from your sides, but he looks down, watching you struggle and then back up, comprehension dawning on him.

“Pip, you don’t have to be worried about anything. Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” He removes his hands but stays close to you.

Tears start to well up in your eyes. “I- no. You aren’t, I just…I just…”

He pushes your chin up with his finger, his bright eyes meeting yours. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckle, but he doesn’t let you look away. “I mean it, Pip. You’re an amazing woman and I’ve wanted to touch you all night. But if you don’t want me to, I can wait. It’s completely up to you.”

“I just… I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Do I look disappointed?”

You blink away the tears, feeling his thumbs wipe them off your cheeks. When you meet his eyes you finally see it - his eyes nearly black with lust, his impossibly hard cock smashed against your thigh. Even the guys who pretended to want you just for their buddies to get with Olivia didn’t look like this. No one has ever looked at you with such want, such desire, such desperate need. And it lights you up, begging you to be with him.

“No one has ever looked at me like this before.” 

He leans forward, his lips gently kissing that spot under your ear. When he speaks it’s low, raspy, and lustful. 

“Then let me show you how I see you.”

—----

General Taglist:

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All One Shots/Writing Prompts/Ficlets:

"I need you to go slower." He already spent time opening you up. Between his tongue and his fingers, it shouldn't be this difficult. But when his pants came off, your body went back to square one.

"I'm already going as slow as I can."

"Then I need you to stop," you breathe out.

He lets go, nodding into your neck as he reaches down and slowly pulls himself--what fit, anyway--out of you. The relief is instant but emptiness you feel now goes deeper than he ever got.

"We need more foreplay," he tells you. Excited. Like your arousal is a science experiment and it's missing the ingredient that makes the final product so satisfying.

"We've been at this for an hour."

He looks at clock on the bedside table, squinting without his glasses to make out the numbers. "It's not a school night so..." He trails off, finishing his sentence with another kiss as he trails down your body.

Your nipples pebble as the cold air hits them, breasts exposed to the cold air as he pulls away from you and takes the covers too. Marcus takes one into his mouth and sucks, moaning into the flesh before dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin. His middle finger trails the wet slit at your center as he moves to your other nipple, smiling when he feels your hips chase his thick digits.

"Marcus..."

He shushes you, pulling away to make eye contact before replacing his lips to your chest. Your stomach. Your hips. He slips his finger inside of you as his breath ghosts against your thighs, a dark laughter vibrating straight to your clit.

"Even that felt kind of hard to get in there," he says. He blows on your bundle of nerves and laughs again when you clench around him. "So fucking tight. Did my size scare you, sweetheart?"

"Marcus, you're teasing me."