#themightybottom

Pushing away from the door, he stepped into the large, elegantly furnished room that was provided for his needs. He made several changes to it once he decided to stay, but overall he was impressed with how well and thoughtfully built it was. His favourites were the large bed, covered in soft and shiny covers from material that he would expect on a woman's dress rather than a bedding (but was quick to discover just how good it felt on bared skin) and then the bathroom, which was huge and equipped with shower and bathtub that had functions which were almost at the level of luxury he was used to on Asgard, with many faucets and sprays to let one enjoy the hot water in precisely the desired way.

Taking his coat off and draping it across the chair, he stretched and, his mind still wandering, looked out the window at the bright scenery of New York at night. There was so much that the mortals managed in such a short time...

Thinking of Midgardian technology led him to remember the good-natured frustration his team-mates professed concerning Mjolnir and the magic surrounding her, insisting that some sort of technology had to be in use instead.

Mjolnir.

As if waiting for him to remember, she began buzzing in his hand and he looked down, almost surprised. He was barely aware he reached for her again after he began undressing. There were definitely waves of something coming from his weapon and his first instinct was to search for signs of danger, eyes automatically scanning the room as he listened to any suspicious sounds.

That was not what she was telling him though. His mind went back to the party and the way they all – almost all – tried to lift her, straining and needling him to explain the 'trick'. He had not minded then, not even when Steve managed to move her just a little bit.

He had felt an uncomfortable tug in his stomach when it happened though and could not help but stare. But a little budge had been all that Steve managed and Thor subsided, chiding himself. Steve was an extraordinary man and surely worthy. Mjolnir had acknowledged that but she still belonged to Thor. If anything, Thor should be honoured to have one such as Steve Rogers at his side.

And yet in the aftermath of it all, after all the people touched Mjolnir, something was happening. He could not fully tell what emotions were his and what was a projection of the fickle, stubborn hammer that he possessed, but either way, there was no reason to deny what he wanted. Setting Mjolnir by the foot of the bed, he headed for the bathroom, quickly discarding his shirt and trousers, along with socks and underwear. It was pleasant to simply bare his skin for a while, let it breathe, feel the freedom of it. A splash of lukewarm water on his face helped clear the effect of alcohol in his head a little and he grabbed two pieces of cloth and wetting one thoroughly before returning to the bedroom.

Yes. Mjolnir was definitely desiring. Upon stepping into the room, he could feel buzzing all over his naked form, the sensation reminiscent of a caress, beckoning him to hurry. He lowered himself on the ground next to where he had sat Mjolnir, discarding the idea of moving to bed. This was not... floor would do. He reached to glide a finger over the smooth metal of the head and was rewarded by a tiny prick of power. Swallowing hard, suddenly as impatient as she was, Thor set to work with the wet cloth, wiping down the handle thoroughly, following the ridges to clean it perfectly. It was not a simple act of getting rid of dirt. He was wiping away the unworthy touches as well – because as accepting as he had been before, suddenly it felt like a mistake.

Mjolnir was his, just as he was hers.

He took his time polishing her with the clean, dry cloth after, focusing first at the handle and then at the head as well until a new shine gleamed on the surface. Once there was not one spot left to clean or polish, he sat back, forced to finally recognize how heavy his breathing was. He was not going to question the state he was in, after all, he did only what Mjolnir wanted, but at the back of his mind he chuckled at himself and his own eagerness. He hasn't felt this way since he was much younger. Taking a moment to admire the hammer, he noticed that while the buzz she was emitting hasn't subsided, it certainly had a warmer tone to it now, more welcoming than before. She was pleased with being cleaned such.

And he knew what she wanted next. What he wanted next.

Standing up, he quickly reached his bedside table and pulled a bottle of lubricant from the drawer, anxious to return to Mjolnir quickly. The shivers her power was sending running over his skin were quite addicting. Like a touch of a lover.

He knelt above her, letting his half-hard cock brush the handle briefly. She flared to life and he gasped, for a moment almost deafened by the hum that shot from her. Though after the initial excitement from the first touch she quieted and he breathed out, flicking the bottle of clear slick open and pouring some into his right hand. Then he supported himself on one arm, hovering over the hammer, making sure his cock still bumped into the the handle more often than not. With his fingers wet and slippery, he wasted no time reaching behind himself and sliding them between his cheeks. He had rushed and the gel was not yet warmed and he jolted as the the coldness was spread over sensitive skin. He groaned at the feeling and a corresponding buzz ran through him, focusing decidedly on his loins this time. He teased himself for a moment, circling the puckered flesh with the pads of his fingertips and his cock grew harder, thanks to the pleasure of his own touch and the way he was rubbing it against Mjolnir, not to mention the shivers of power that danced across his skin.

Biting his lip to quiet any sounds, Thor pushed one finger into himself. His breathing was wrecked already with the subtle pleasure of that feeling, feeling that he clearly neglected to enjoy often enough. He could feel Mjolnir's lazy approval at his actions and her buzzing grew very deep and slow, almost taunting, daring him to draw this out when they both wanted much more.

Soon his finger was sliding easily in and out of his hole and he added another one, pressing the knuckles together and and dipping shallowly in first before thrusting in hard, needing that spark of almost-pain. By now, his cock was dripping down onto Mjolnir's head, fully erect and the foreskin pulled back as he rubbed the two shafts together.

He opted to push a third finger into himself as well even though his skin was damp with sweat that broke out from the strain of his need and Mjolnir was almost crackling, ordering him to come to her fully. But the handle was so thick -

He simply had to. He sat back for a moment, picking up the previously discarded bottle with shaking hands and unceremoniously squeezed the lube over the top of Mjolnir's handle. Then he reached for it, mouth already forming a groan because he could only guess what onslaught of sensations he would be under once he fully wrapped his palm around the shaft.

He was not disappointed.

Lightning cracked as he spread the slick over the hammer's handle, good couple of inches down, as low as he thought – hoped – he could manage. It felt like molten pleasure underneath his skin and he couldn't wait any longer. Shuffling forward on his knees, he moved to kneel over Mjolnir and lowered himself, just a bit, until the top of the shaft grazed the bottom of his cheeks. The buzz Mjolnir was emitting was so strong now it was practically vibrating. Letting out a breath he was holding, Thor came lower and lower until the slick, still rather cool metal tip pressed at his hole. Then he bore down and it slipped into him, stretching him.

He let out a single groan, trying very hard to breathe through the burning, filling sensation. It felt amazing, but also almost unbearably intense. It was almost impossible to believe that he could take more than just half a inch of the tip, but he felt Mjolnir's excitement and the way she felt almost content now, if only he would slide lower and lower...

And he did. His thighs burned with exertion but he held himself up, kneeling wide spread over Mjolnir and pumped up and down the shaft, each time letting just a little more disappear into his stretched hole. When it grew to be too much, he distracted himself by running both of his hands over his chest and thighs, slipping into the vee of his crotch but never touching his cock, then running up to tweak his nipples. He pinched and kneaded them as he worked the ridged, hard metal deeper into himself. His jaw was slack and mouth open and he was letting pants and moans slip free between his lips, simply not caring anymore. Mjolnir's shaft felt like fire inside him, if fire could ever be this substantial, filling him with such a presence. It was not just the thickness and unwieldiness of the metal, it was the humming that filled his insides as well and he sped up, whining out his need, because he needed more of that.

The rhythm he set for himself was almost careless but he snapped his hips up and down anyway, boring down hard onto the shaft, bending forward to find the spot of pleasure and rub the pronounced ridges over it. When he managed that, he had to clamp his own mouth shut with the palm of his hand because an outright scream of pleasure was clawing its way up his throat. Sucking on his own fingers to keep quiet, he slowed his thrusts a little, but made them harsher, impaling himself on the hammer, letting it slide over his spot with every movement.

And Mjolnir responded to his growing pleasure, to the need that now clouded his mind and made him unable to think about anything but release – to be set free of the pressure, to finally explode after all the burning that was cumulating in him.

He heard the crack before he felt it.

Mjolnir surged with electrical power, sending a hard surge through him, pulsating and buzzing, screaming in his very core. It was a pure, white-hot ecstasy, blinding him and tearing him apart.

He fell forward and the hammer toppled with him mercifully until he found the strength to crawl just a few inches away so the handle could slid out of his sore hole.

He laid on his front for long minutes, unable to move, though he felt Mjolnir's smug, subdued buzzing from where she said between his sprawled legs. The carpet under him was damp and sticky with his come – not that he could actually remember spilling, but he was sure that's what it was.

“All right,” he murmured when he had enough energy to do so. “Happy now?”