#readerthor

You can limp into the woods, maybe, just roll off into the gravel shoulder so you don’t get buried and knocked off the mountain by a damn snow plow. Your car hates you, you know this, you put it in drive anyway. The rim is scraping the pavement, an awful metallic sound that makes your stomach lurch and your throat tighten, but you didn’t come this far to just turn back around. Going back isn’t an option.

Just a few meters down the road is a wide bit of shoulder, like one of those observation areas back by ocean where people can pull off and take a moment to break up the monotony. Except this one is next to dense, dark mountain forest, and right at the back the trees break apart. There’s a trail illuminated in your headlights, visible between every few seconds as your wipers push fresh snow off your windshield.

You frown as you pull up to it and put your card back in park, leaving it on a moment so the heating can run. The temperature outside is dropping. It’s already well below freezing and the wind is picking up with an ominous howl. Staying in your car isn’t an option either, it seems.

The radio is static again, that sweet spot of reception lost now that you moved fifty feet down the road. You grab your phone and sigh at the little empty triangle mocking you over your lack of signal. Maybe the trail leads to a cabin or a lodge. It’s probably one of those retreats rich people take and this is some back way in for people’s rowdy sons who sneak out of a stuffy dinner.

Can’t be worse than freezing to death in your car. You grab your backpack off the floor of the passenger side and start shoving everything into it. All of the snacks, your waters, even the bottle of whiskey you snagged before you ran out of the house with a screaming voice at your back telling you to stay gone. Gladly.

There’s so little, you realize. Barely anything and you grabbed everything you cared about when you left. Birth certificate, two journals, three little soft-cover books, some old pictures, and a birthday card from grandma. How is there nothing?

You know how. 

You make sure it’s all there, double and triple checking, then you empty the glove box of all of your important documents for the car just in case some maniac steals it in the middle of the snow storm.

The temperature is dropping further. Your clothes aren’t made for this weather. Getting out of the car is the worst idea, you know, but there’s a path. You’ll go a little ways up and if you don’t find anything then you’ll come back.

You cut the engine off and take a breath. This isn’t the end.

The wind rips into you as soon as you open the door. You sling your bag onto your back and stand up, shut the door, lock the car and arm the alarm. Not that it matters, but the habit and that little beep beep is a comfort. It’s normal.

You’re shivering already, you have to move. At least you’re wearing your boots. The few inches of snow that have already fallen crunch beneath your feet as you approach the path. You quickly pull the flashlight out and click it on. The moon is hidden behind heavy clouds and there aren’t any street lights up here. Well, this was why dad put you in boy scouts, right? Not that you made it very far. Kissing the scout master’s son didn’t make a good impression. At least he was cute.

The snow isn’t falling as heavily inside the treeline, even without their leaves the branches of the trees are so thick they shield you. You can follow the path easily. It’s well-worn and defined even when covered with snow. The flakes sparkle where your flashlight hits and you smile to yourself. The forest is pretty right now, and so quiet. This is better than where you were. 

It’s an easy hike at first, especially since you’ve been walking and hiking so much recently, so you barely realize how far you’ve gone until you turn around and notice that your old tracks are being filled in with snow down the way. The storm has picked up and the light from your flashlight doesn’t reach far enough to see if you’re close to your car or not. You know you’re not. You’ve gone too far already.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and your stomach drops, a new chill rising in your bones. Twelve twenty-four. Shit. Almost an hour of walking. With as bad as the storm is you’re not sure if you can go back. If that’s what you should do or if you should keep moving. It’s so cold. You’re not shivering.

You’re not shivering.

You should be shivering. Why aren’t you shivering?

You can’t go back. 

You turn toward the path, you think, and you start moving. If you move, then you’ll get your body temperature up, you just have to make sure you don’t start sweating.

Something slips under your boot and you fall to your knees, your flashlight flies out of your hand and rolls down into the snow, its light lost when it lands. The fabric of your gloves is soaked and you can’t feel your fingers to know if you’ve even found the damn thing or if you’re hitting a tree root. Snow is melting into your jeans. If you don’t get up now then you might not get up at all.

You force yourself standing and squint into the darkness. The trail continues on ahead of you, but it’s hard to tell if you’re still following it. Trees line either side, but the trail was narrow to begin with that you wonder if you’ve gone off after stepping to one side when you ran into a tree.

Why did you get out of your car? Why didn’t you just stay?

Why is it getting hot?

You unzip your jacket and take off your gloves. It’s so warm, it doesn’t make sense.

Another tree hits your boot, the trunk of this one thick, so big it almost doesn’t seem real. You walk around it and stop. Light. There’s light coming from a cabin.

You stumble toward it, falling against a tree. Why is your backpack so heavy?

A wide, welcoming porch stretches out in front of you and you trip on one of the steps, then crawl up to the door. You beat your hand against it and don’t think about the fact that you can’t feel it happening.

It opens a second later and a heatwave rolls over you, makes you feel a little sick.

Two big, hot hands grab you under your arms and haul you inside. Not a rich-people retreat.

“What?” A voice says.

Oh, you said that out loud.

Two soft blue eyes meet yours, brows furrowed as they look over you. “Fuck, hey, come on.”

The world slips away.

You’re at the beach suddenly, and it’s snowing. The sky is purple and there’s a stampede of corgis running across the ocean. It’s the annual migration, you realize.

You need to take notes. No one’s seen this in forever.

You don’t even realize you’d fallen asleep until you’re awake again. There are blankets wrapped around you and panic seizes you until you open your eyes and realize only the corgis were a dream. Yesterday happened. You left.

Then you almost died.

“You’re awake?” A deep voice asks from your back. “I made breakfast. You need to eat.”

Your entire body is sore when you roll over, but at least you’re alive to feel it. The man from last night is standing in the doorway of the bedroom you’re in. He’s… massive. That’s the only word for it. He’s leaning against the door frame and the top of his head is still almost touching. Whoever built the cabin didn’t build it for giants.

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. You’re staring. Right.

“Hi,” you begin, “I’m sorry I showed up like that.”

A small smile curls one end of his mouth. “Half dead from hypothermia telling me my house wasn’t a retreat for rich people?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, hoping maybe the other half of your death will catch up to you now. “Oh my god.”

He laughs, warm and amused. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you didn’t die in my living room.”

You look at him and hope your smile is more grateful than sheepish, but then he chuckles and you give up. 

“You said breakfast?” You try.

He nods and jerks his head to one side. “Eggs, bacon, some toast. Hearty food that you need after your hike up here.”

You offer another smile and swing your legs out, grimacing at the pain in your thighs, your abdomen, basically anything that can move on you hurts right now. Your hands look fine, though, which is all you could hope for. Wait.

“These aren’t my clothes.” You say slowly.

The shirt is a simple flannel button down and it’s huge on you. A tent. You’ve never been a very big guy, but this shirt makes you feel like a child. The pants aren’t yours either. Fleece-line sweatpants, nice and soft, with the drawstring pulled out about as far as it can be and tied into a bow.

Your dashing rescuer and rubs the back of his neck and gives a tight smile. “Your clothes were soaked, I couldn’t leave them on. I checked your bag, but… you, uh, don’t have much.”

Right. You don’t. Everything you own is either in a storage unit or in your backpack and your car. A blown tire wasn’t part of your plan.

You pull at the end of the rolled up sleeve and laugh. “These are yours?”

He nods. “Everything here is mine.”

“Well,” you say as you stand, “at least I didn’t have to rescue you from the snow. I don’t think my clothes would fit you.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling. A thick, golden beard covers his jaw and catches a few strands of his long, hair where it’s fallen out of a braid. Is this guy for real?

You follow him out of the room and down the hall. There’s a bathroom off to the side you see your clothes have been tossed over the top of a sliding glass door to dry.

The smell of bacon makes your stomach growl, and you’re glad to sit a little two-seater table next to a window. It’s still snowing. There’s a dusting of snow at the bottom of the window and you’re not sure if it’s been caught by the sill or if the snow really is that deep. You look further outside and your mouth drops open. There are feet of snow on the ground. You’re stuck.

He sets a plate down in front of you with a glass of apple juice, then grabs his own food and sits across from you.

“Guess I’m stuck here for a while,” you say quietly.

He nods. “The storm is supposed to continue into tonight.”

You shove an entire piece of bacon into your mouth, then another, then a bite of egg. Eating like you’re starving is your normal, but it hasn’t been this bad in a while. Your stomach is still growling as you eat and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so hungry.

He glances at you as he eats his own food much more slowly than you inhale yours. Within a few minutes all of your food is gone, then the apple juice.

“You want more?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, I’ll wait about ten minutes and see if I’m still hungry. Don’t want to make myself sick.”

He nods. “Good idea. I’m Thor, by the way.”

You startle and realize you’ve slept in this man’s house, you’re wearing his clothes, but you never introduced yourself. Your name falls from your tongue easily and he nods.

“I saw your license when I was looking through your bag. Wanted to make sure you were eighteen at least.” He says.

Reasonable. You’d think the same thing if someone who looked as young as you look collapsed on the ground with nothing but a backpack that didn’t even have a change of clothes. That’s the kind of dumb shit first-time runaways do. Third timers? Not as much.

“Right, of course. Sorry,” you say, mentally kicking yourself as you do, “um, thank you, by the way. I didn’t realize how far I’d gone into the woods until it was too late. I didn’t know if staying in my car would’ve been better, I just… one of my tires blew out and my spare is so old it’s probably rotted. It’s just been…”

“A rough week?” He finishes, voice soft. 

You nod and he smiles and lets out a breath through his nose. He’s been somewhere similar, you think, somewhere as difficult as this. Running away a third time in two years like some dumb teenager and not a man in his early twenties.

“Honestly,” you start, “more than a week. A lot more. I was on my way to the coast.”

“Family?” He asks.

You scoff. “Hope not.”

He makes a noise and his eyebrows shoot up a second. “I know that feeling.”

Relief sits soft in your chest the same way it always does when someone understands.

“So, you live here?” Enough of your personal baggage.

He nods. “Most of the time. I have another house a couple states over. This was my dad’s, he left it to me.”

The way he says it tells you it was left a while ago, an absence he’s used to now. You know that feeling.

You swallow and rub your hands together, comforted that you can even feel them. “So, how are we going to pass the time while we wait to be snowed in even worse?”

…

“Oh, bullshit!” You screech.

“I’m serious! My brother just kept talking and talking until the guy just handed over the keys to this Lexus and we drove off, but the owner was right behind us and he started running after us screaming. I was so drunk that I pissed myself when I started laughing. Then Loki started laughing and trying to look back, but he was the one driving, so he crashed into a parked Maserati and we had to run for it. Our father was…” Thor falls quiet a moment, some of the light in his eyes dying, “it was a fun night. We’re much more responsible now. Well, I am. And he only steals things he won’t be caught stealing, so it’s an improvement.”

You shake your head and pull your legs up higher, tucking your feet under you. The couch is huge and soft, and there are enough plush wool blankets to make another entire bed out of. There’s only one bedroom here, and it’s Thor’s. He let you take it last night because he’s probably the kindest person you’ve ever met.

“What about you?” He asks, his smile a bit loose from the shots of whiskey you did together after dinner.

You shrug, then a memory flashes and you laugh. “Alright, yeah, I have one. When I was sixteen I followed my cousin to bible camp.”

“Bible camp? This is going to be awful, isn’t it?” Thor rests his head on his hand and you feel heat bloom in your stomach.

You laugh through your nerves and nod. “It was a sleep-away camp and I was excited to be out of my house for a couple weeks, even though you really couldn’t pay me to give a shit about the bible and all that.”

Thor nods, a lingering smile showing slight crows feet in the corners of his eyes. He’s so gorgeous and this is so not the time to be hitting on him, but when have you made good decisions?

“As teenagers we were supposed to help the councilors out with the really little kids, which was cool because it meant that our curfew was the latest. My cousin always went off to smoke weed before bed, but there was this guy, definitely too old for me, but he was sweet. I had a huge crush, and he knew it, and he didn’t return it but he was nice about it, y’know? So I knew I couldn’t do anything with him and I was sad and dumb, so I grabbed one of the other boys in my age group and we snuck into the craft supply room and he got me off with his mouth and everything was fine, but then as soon as I got on my knees and had his dick in my mouth my crush found us,” you remember the way the door swung open and the light was nearly blinding.

Thor’s eyebrows shoot up and he smiles open-mouthed and crooked. “What did he do?”

“He was frozen, and the guy I was blowing was frozen, and reality hadn’t really hit me, so I started sucking—”

“No,” Thor’s eyes are wide and his smile turns shocked.

You nod and look off toward the ceiling, then roll your eyes back to Thor. “Yep. My crush slammed the door shut and went running, and the noise drew the attention of all the other adults, so we had to run for it back to our cabin.”

Thor laughs and scrubs a hand down his face. “At bible camp.”

“At bible camp. The rest of the week all of the lessons were about remaining chaste.” You chuckle and lick your lips slowly, your tongue sliding slowly over your bottom lip when Thor’s eyes dart down to the movement.

“Did you remain chaste?” He asks, voice deep and smooth, then he clears his throat.

You shake your head. “No, I felt bad that the guy didn’t get off, so I sucked his dick on one of the trails during a hike.”

Thor looks at your mouth again, then off toward the wood burning stove. It’s making the entire cabin warm by itself with just a fan to push the air around. The snow is starting to slow down, but it’s still falling. Thor’s radio has more range than your car, so you listened to the weather earlier just long enough to hear them say the storm will end around midnight.

You look off toward the hall, then back to Thor. “So who takes the bed tonight?”

He shrugs. “I was going to give it to you, since you’re my guest.”

You smile and reach up to scratch the back of your neck where sweat is beading up at your hairline. “Such a gentleman.”

Thor smiled and laughs through his nose. “I try to be.”

He’s looking at your neck, and his eyes dart down to your collar bone, then back up to your mouth, finally back up to your eyes.

“You’re not always a gentleman, are you?” You tilt your head and smile at him, the same smile that always gets you into trouble you can’t talk your way out of.

His eyes turn dark where he looks at you, and his chest rises on a deep breath. “I suppose it depends on what you think a gentleman does.”

You’re still wearing his clothes from that morning with nothing beneath. The buttons slide open easily. He’s worn this shirt often, you can tell. His eyes track the movements of your fingers as you slowly open the shirt until it falls off of you. You can feel the breeze coming from the fan by the stove, the air so warm it feel soothing as it brushes over you.

Thor’s jaw ticks as he looks at you, and he adjust as he sits, scooting away from the arm of the couch. It’s all the invitation you need to move and straddle his thick thighs. You’re still sore, but you can tolerate the pain if it means having him touch you. He grabs your hips and squeezes, then slides his hands up your sides to squeeze where you’re soft over the muscle you’ve built.

How long has it been since someone’s made you wet? Fuck, you can’t even remember, but you can feel it starting, that familiar heat settling deep in your core. You remember now how much you’ve always hated feeling empty.

You lean in and bump your nose against his, biting your lip as he rubs your back.

“We don’t have to,” he whispers, “you don’t owe me.”

You smile and kiss him, moaning when he presses back, opens up to you, sucks your tongue and pulls you in close. His cock is starting to fill, you can feel it pressing up against you between the layers of fleece that separate you.

You press down and rub your clit on the thick line of him, groaning at how soft everything feels except where he’s hard. He gasps and presses back, rolls his hips as much as the position allows and starts a rhythm. As big as he looks he feels so much bigger under you now. No man you’ve ever been with has been this thick, this warm. Thor grabs your ass and guides you, grinds you into his cock and looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.

Pleasure sings inside you, sweet and warm, already building too soon. Life has been too hectic for the last few months, you haven’t even wanted to get off, and it feels like your body is making up for lost time. There’s nothing happening here except the silence of the snow falling and the loud breaths the two of you pant against each other’s open mouths.

“I’m gonna cum.” Your voice is quiet, barely there.

The pressure is coiling tight, pooling low, it feels good to use him. He smiles ducks his head to fix his mouth to your neck. Your eyes roll into your head, the ticklish pleasure of it something no one has done for you in so long. Thor scrapes his teeth across your pounding pulse and you grind down harder, chasing your own need with rough snaps of your hips and little broken moans.

You cuss and whisper his name, rub your clit down harder and tangle one hand into his hair, hoping maybe there’ll be a mark left from the way he sucks on your skin.

You’re clenching on nothing, so wet that it’s got to be soaking through your pants and his. Your belly and ass jiggle and his fingers dig in harder. He growls and bites you and you hold your breath.

Your clit is throbbing, you’re so hard and so ready, you need him, you want him to fill you up and pin you down, make you forget that you ever planned to keep running, keep you here—

“Fuck!” You fall limp in his arms, shaking and hips jerking as you cum.

He hugs you close and kisses up your neck until he’s kissing the hinge of your jaw.

You giggle and let your head fall back to give him more room.

“There’s a drawer in the coffee table,” he says, beard scraping on you, “it has condoms.”

You lean back and he holds just tight enough to keep you from falling as you reach into the drawer he mentioned and grab a magnum. Definitely a need and not just an ego boost for himself.

He smiles up at you as you hold it, then strips his shirt off. You moan without meaning to and he smirks. There’s soft hair covering his chest and belly, which is so soft that it makes you ache. The thick muscle that makes up his body is covered in a layer of fat that you want to sink your teeth into.

You hand him the condom, then crawl off of his lap and lay down on the couch. It’s long enough that he can sleep comfortably, so it’s definitely big enough for him to fuck you properly.

You both remove your pants and you’re stuck when you see his cock. He’s uncut and his foreskin makes your mouth water. God your fingers would probably barely close around him he’s so goddamn thick. You spread your legs, hooking one over the back of the couch, and he groans, then reaches over and slides two fingers into you.

It’s good, so good, and his fingers are so thick that they feel satisfying, but you know having his dick inside you is going to be so much better. Thor adds a third finger and hits your g-spot, rubs up on it when you shudder and clench on him while his thumb rubs on your over-sensitive clit.

Then he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Your heart trips in your chest and your stomach flips. Fuck.

He rips the condom open with his teeth and slides it on, then moves to kneel between your legs. You fold yourself in half so your knees are almost touching your shoulders. Thor rubs his cock up and down to spread your slick around. The way he teases is so sweet. You might not be able to cum again just yet, but it doesn’t matter. You want to feel him cum inside you, to know the way his cock jumps when he’s filling that condom up nice and full.

Thor leans forward and presses a kiss to your ankle, then slides in nice and slow. There’s a little burn and you bite your lip and groan from it. He’s taking slow, deep breaths above you, eyes falling shut and brows furrowed as inch after inch of him stretches you out until he hits the deepest part of you and has to stop.

Maybe you can cum again. 

You lower your legs enough to wrap them around his waist and hold on tight when he starts fucking you with long, hard thrusts. He pulls out and fills you right back up, rolling his hips until your gasping and clutching his shoulders. Rough, low groans fall from his mouth on every breath and you close your eyes as you listen to him. It’s like thunder in the middle of the snow storm.

He leans down and buries his face in your neck and starts snapping his hips faster and faster. You move with him as much as you can, rubbing your clit on him while he shoves that ridiculous cock into you. Fuck, you want him in your ass next.

“God, Thor, fuck!” You hike your legs up his side and dig your nails into his skin.

The pleasure of him inside you and on top of you is sharp. You feel safe here, absurdly, pressed down under his bulk with his breath making your neck slick and the fire roaring off to the side.

You’re trembling beneath him, whimpering at the constant pressure on your clit and then he changes the angle of his hips, hits you just right, and your eyes roll into your head and you’re cumming again, hard and euphoric. Laughter bubbles up in your throat and Thor is growling at you, snapping his hips so hard that he’s sending you up toward the arm of the couch.

He grunts your name and cusses, then buries himself deep and you moan low and dirty when you feel his dick throbbing inside you. You grind against each other a moment, then both still as he fills the condom and begins to soften.

Thor pulls back enough to look down at you, his eyes a little hazy with pleasure. You probably look the same. He smiles and it’s so raw that your first instinct is to just kiss him. So you do.

He makes a soft, breathy noise and slips free of you, but doesn’t move to take the condom off just yet. Instead, he stays as as he is, letting his weight anchor you while you suck his lower lip then release it.

The breeze coming from the fan is still warm, but your skin is slick with sweat and you shiver a bit at it. Thor chuckles and presses a quick kiss to your forehead, then stands up. You wrap yourself in one of the blankets and snuggle in while he moves around somewhere behind the couch.

A moment later he’s back, naked and soft and spent. He smiles.

“Why don’t we both take the bed tonight?” His voice is smooth and gentle.