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[badluckwithplanes]

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OWEN SHAW | 35

Born and raised in London, resident of the world. Any more personal information given only to those willing to ask for it.

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"This is Shaw. Leave your message, get back to you once I can."

Comments

[badluckwithplanes]

[At first he doesn't move any part of his lower body. He can't. He still digs and clings to Thor's shoulders, leaning face into his hungry kisses; turning head away slightly to expose his jawline, his throat, in a pleading hint to have those sensitive places ravished further as well.

He's breathing too shortly; inhales and exhales in a keening whimper, just shy of hyperventilating. He catches himself, breaks mouth open to force a deep gasp of air into his lungs, like he's resurfacing after a dive and preparing to back under.

Isn't that fitting though? He feels as though he's trapped in something that might as well be as heavy and dark as the ocean - pulled down deep into Thor's domination over him, helpless and floating free all at the same time.

He's pinned beneath the weight of Thor's hands and his body, acutely aware of how trapped he is against the bed. Existing in a small space with the sheets against his skin on one side and Thor's skin and hair and muscles on the other.

He lifts his ass invitingly into where Thor is fucking him, clenching to increase that friction to where it's surely almost more than either man can take. His hips buck slightly, unaware, as his throbbing cock tries to fuck itself against something, seeking its own respite.]

[dyingstar]

[ The kisses are good, but Thor doesn't mind when they're broken and he's offered Shaw's neck instead. He takes it just as hungrily, glad for more air as he sucks bruising marks at the join of Shaw's neck and shoulder and pants hotly there, forehead pressed to his shoulder as the pleasure builds, groaning his appreciation as Shaw cants his hips up and clenches his ass, increasing the tightness, the thrumming heat, better for the lube, like an electrical charge. Thor feels like a storm. ]

God— Keep doing that.

[ He chokes out against Shaw's collar, fucking him roughly, steady, quicker than before, until the slap of skin is harder, louder than his breaths, and he takes a hand from Shaw's hips to grab and squeeze Shaw's cock caught between them to the same rhythm, because he's not going to last long, and damned if he isn't taking Shaw over the edge with him. ]

[badluckwithplanes]

[He's biting his own lips and setting his teeth, breathing a rapid constant hiss as he savors the onslaught of Thor's bristled hungry mouth at the pressure points of his throat. He can't, won't speak, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hear.

The crude, primal sound of their bodies meeting seems beautiful in its own right in this context. Though it takes a lot out of him and brings it's own sting he's only too happy to comply and uses every muscle he has in that area to keep things nice and tight.

The noise he makes as Thor grabs his cock like that is a moan deep and vibrating, almost like a note of music. He squeezes his eyes shut as he leans into Thor's rhythm and even in the darkness of his vision everything starts to go white.]

[dyingstar]

[ For as tense as Shaw is, inside and out, he still arches into the fuck of Thor's cock, and moans as Thor touches him, and it's all Thor needs to set him off, that pleasured sound forced from Shaw's throat and the jerk of the head of his cock under the quick pull of Thor's wet hand.

He gasps, and groans against Shaw's neck as he comes, still buried deep, and he struggles to keep the rhythm of his hand even as his hips stutter and his hips jerk reflexively, stroking Shaw's cock in the steady squeeze of his fist through his own climax. And Thor bites Shaw's shoulder as soon as he thinks to do it, moments later, and sucks another bruising kiss to his collar just below the spot, savoring the taste of sweat on his skin, the lingering throb of his body, and the heat from the lube, electric, that feels almost too much on his sensitive cock and overly-aroused skin. ]

[badluckwithplanes]

[There is something just...indescribable, about feeling another man finish inside him. Especially when it's someone like Thor, after the things he's done to him and the stirred up way he's made him feel. All that tension and hunger is instantly satisfied - the wash of relief that comes from a desperate need being utterly quenched, all at once.

His head is spinning and he can't open his eyes. He feels the dizzy rush of having run a marathon, and some of the floating fatigue, with none of the physical strain. Just the high.

He goes slack on the bed, knees half-bent, head drooping backwards. At first his arms go limp. But as Thor bites his shoulder, awaking him halfway out of post-climax haze, he gives a short sharp "Oh!" and his hands go up to press palm-down against Thor's back, holding him to him.

He may be done but clearly he's in no hurry to quit savoring the moment or wake from the dreaming.]

[dyingstar]

[ It's a moment worth savoring, even after the pleasure fades to a dull throb, and Thor's glad Shaw isn't in a rush to push him away either, because he's happy to lie just where he is, a heavy weight on top of him, pressed against him, kissing warm and slow along his collar and against Shaw's neck.

For a while Thor's content to stay that way, warm and satisfied, and kissing Shaw's skin. But eventually the sweat on his back begins to cool, and even the lingering thrum of the lube begins to feel uncomfortable on his hands and face, and with a trail of kisses left down Shaw's chest, Thor rumbles. ]

That was wonderful. You are, Shaw. But we should get up and clean this mess I've made of you, before we're stuck together.

[badluckwithplanes]

[There's a content smile on his face, eyes closed, and he leans into Thor in a way that almost crosses the line into cuddling.

When he pries his eyes open again, in response to the other's words, it's with a note of regret.]

Right. There is that...

[With a quiet exhale he gradually pulls his hands away from Thor, resting them palm down to brace himself on the bed. He sits up, a little, and tries to slide backward to disentangle himself, gingerly.]