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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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IC INBOX:

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

Comments

[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.]