drain you
kinkmemes entertain me to the nth degree.
Steve Rogers/Thor | NC-17 | originally prompted and posted at avengerkink
There's a pool on the roof of Stark Tower. A certain couple likes to use it for intimate activities.
It starts raining at the same time that Steve almost splits his skull from his head swinging back into the side of the pool. Thor scrapes his teeth along the side of his neck, beard rough and scratching his skin into a sensitive pink. Steve blinks rain out of his eyes, clutching the back of Thor’s neck with his fingertips tucked into the long blond hair. It isn’t the soft kind of rain, little droplets that disappear, but the kind that’s made up of huge drops that reflect off of surfaces, off of the water in the pool, off of their skin where they’re pressed up against each other. The mid-August weather is humid, sticky, and it’s like there’s steam rising from the tiles that are warm where Steve has his arms propped up.
“We should -” he stops, sucking in a deep breath while Thor sucks a mark that probably won’t even last until tomorrow into the place where his neck meets his shoulder. “We should go inside.” He thinks of the bizarrity of the situation - making out in a pool during a storm with a thunder god/alien on the top of Stark Tower. Thor draws back, shakes water out of his eyes and then gives Steve one of those devastatingly beautiful smiles, leaning back in to press hot, repetitive kisses to his lips that would make him weak in the knees, if he weren’t pinned to the wall of a pool.
He can hear thunder in the distance and then a clap of lightning, but Thor just licks past the seam of Steve’s lips and into his mouth, hands slipping through the water on his arms to cup his face and kiss him deeper. Steve’s fingers tighten perceptively in his hair. “Thor - I,” he tries again, turning his face to the side and taking in a gasping breath. It’s almost like he isn’t even saying anything with the way that Thor doesn’t even acknowledge it, just kisses the corner of his lips and his cheek, down his jawline. “Is it even - oh - safe because - Thor - storm.”
Finally getting his attention, Thor laughs, a deep rumbling sound that is echoed by thunder in the clouds. “Steven,” he says. “You are with the god of thunder. You are safe.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Captain America sees a bright flash of lightning streak across the sky, and his voice is laced with doubt with he says, “But the lightning, and the water...”
“Elskede,” Thor’s voice is muffled by the way he’s hiding a grin in Steve’s neck. “You need not fear. I will keep you safe.”
And the truth is, bracketed in between the bulk that is Thor and the side of the pool with rain and pool-water making his eyes sting, Steve feels incredibly safe. He feels strands of wet long hair underneath his fingers when he pulls him back in, mouths barely brushing against each other. “What does it mean?” he asks, and Thor answers, “Beloved.” Their mouths are a hot slide against each other; Thor reaches underneath the water and grips at Steve’s thigh and at Steve’s ass, lifting him effortlessly so that his legs wrap around his waist, still pressed up against the edge of the pool.
Steve wonders if Tony has security cameras installed by the pool, makes a mental note to ask JARVIS about that - but then Thor’s hips are rolling into his, line of his cock pressing into his own and the mental notes are going to have to wait. “Hold on -” Steve says, and when Thor’s grip on his ass disappears and he grabs the edge of the pool instead, he realizes he took it literally. “No - just, wait a second.”
He gets a bemused look, but Steve ignores him and drops his legs. He pulls the drawstring on his swimming shorts - red, white and blue American flag patterned, to Tony’s immense pleasure - and then on Thor’s, and then he gets the picture. So when they float to the surface a few moments later, Steve has already moved on to bigger and better things, like jerking him off slowly under the water.
Thor stills him with a hand to his wrist, instead lifts him effortlessly so that his legs can wrap back around his waist and his arms loop around his neck. “Elskede Steven,” he says, pressing him back into the wall with his hips, and his hands skim back up his skin, wet and tacky from the pool water and the rain. His right hand cups his face, huge and warm, palm calloused from wielding Mjolnir. Steve turns his face into the touch, so that Thor’s thumb is pressed to his lips.
He flicks his tongue out over it, tastes chlorine and rain and the salty taste of his skin, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. Steve’s eyes don’t look away from Thor’s, and the thunderer groans, rough and low. His index and middle finger replace his thumb; the pads of his fingers are rough, but Steve drags his tongue over them and licks at the webbing in between. There’s a blur that is Thor fingering him open, one and then two and then three digits that are thick and feel so good.
It’s almost embarrassing the way that he’s trembling, lips pressed to Thor’s shoulder as he mouths pleas into his skin. Thor knows that he could get Steve off like this, has done it before, but instead he stops his movements and uses that hand that isn’t currently finger fucking him into near-oblivion to grasp his chin and turn his face so he can look him in the eye.
“Yeah,” Steve gasps, arching his neck. His pupils are dilated, black ringed by a sliver of blue. “Yeah, please - please,” he says, fingers flexing restlessly against Thor’s bare skin. He doesn’t know if they have anything to do with each other, but when Thor replaces his fingers with his cock, the head barely inside of him and splitting him open so good, Steve feels the rumble that drives through his chest, hears the answering roll of thunder in the clouds.
Thor grins breathlessly, teeth startlingly white against his tan skin. It’s still raining, warm splashes on their faces and shoulders. He leans over him, arms braced against the edges of the pool, hips grinding and driving into him slow and dirty under the water. Steve moans, ankles crossing behind Thor’s lower back and he digs his heels into his ass, trying to make him go deeper, harder. The muscles in his arms stand out as he balances himself, thrusting in sure, determined strokes that have Steve crying out every time he pushes back in.
The angle isn’t ideal for him, and he can barely move with the way he’s pinned, but Steve does his best to rock back against Thor, hips moving in counterpoint to his. He’s less vocal than the Asgardian who’s talking in his ear in a deep growl and making promises for later; but even then Steve can’t help the noises that come out of his mouth, mewls and moans that he tries to suppress by ducking his head, pressing his mouth to Thor’s shoulder.
Steve dips his hand under the water, angling between his and Thor’s bodies for his cock. His teeth dig into his lower lip, eyes shutting themselves tight, but Thor says in a sex-rough voice, “No, look at me.” He blinks his eyes open, palm twisting over the head of his cock at the same time that the thunder god twists his hips viciously so that he rubs over his prostate. Body tensing, Steve arches in a way so that the edge of the pool digs painfully into his back. To his credit, Thor keeps going through his orgasm, and his knack for saying exactly what pushes all of Steve’s buttons drags it out just that much longer.
He whites out for a moment, comes back to to the feeling of rain on his face and Thor stilling on top of him, come, wet and hot and already slipping out of him. Steve slides one hand into his hair, kissing him sloppy and slow. Their swim trunks are floating nearby, and Thor’s breath is hot on his cheek. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
Steve Rogers/Thor | NC-17 | originally prompted and posted at avengerkink
There's a pool on the roof of Stark Tower. A certain couple likes to use it for intimate activities.
It starts raining at the same time that Steve almost splits his skull from his head swinging back into the side of the pool. Thor scrapes his teeth along the side of his neck, beard rough and scratching his skin into a sensitive pink. Steve blinks rain out of his eyes, clutching the back of Thor’s neck with his fingertips tucked into the long blond hair. It isn’t the soft kind of rain, little droplets that disappear, but the kind that’s made up of huge drops that reflect off of surfaces, off of the water in the pool, off of their skin where they’re pressed up against each other. The mid-August weather is humid, sticky, and it’s like there’s steam rising from the tiles that are warm where Steve has his arms propped up.
“We should -” he stops, sucking in a deep breath while Thor sucks a mark that probably won’t even last until tomorrow into the place where his neck meets his shoulder. “We should go inside.” He thinks of the bizarrity of the situation - making out in a pool during a storm with a thunder god/alien on the top of Stark Tower. Thor draws back, shakes water out of his eyes and then gives Steve one of those devastatingly beautiful smiles, leaning back in to press hot, repetitive kisses to his lips that would make him weak in the knees, if he weren’t pinned to the wall of a pool.
He can hear thunder in the distance and then a clap of lightning, but Thor just licks past the seam of Steve’s lips and into his mouth, hands slipping through the water on his arms to cup his face and kiss him deeper. Steve’s fingers tighten perceptively in his hair. “Thor - I,” he tries again, turning his face to the side and taking in a gasping breath. It’s almost like he isn’t even saying anything with the way that Thor doesn’t even acknowledge it, just kisses the corner of his lips and his cheek, down his jawline. “Is it even - oh - safe because - Thor - storm.”
Finally getting his attention, Thor laughs, a deep rumbling sound that is echoed by thunder in the clouds. “Steven,” he says. “You are with the god of thunder. You are safe.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Captain America sees a bright flash of lightning streak across the sky, and his voice is laced with doubt with he says, “But the lightning, and the water...”
“Elskede,” Thor’s voice is muffled by the way he’s hiding a grin in Steve’s neck. “You need not fear. I will keep you safe.”
And the truth is, bracketed in between the bulk that is Thor and the side of the pool with rain and pool-water making his eyes sting, Steve feels incredibly safe. He feels strands of wet long hair underneath his fingers when he pulls him back in, mouths barely brushing against each other. “What does it mean?” he asks, and Thor answers, “Beloved.” Their mouths are a hot slide against each other; Thor reaches underneath the water and grips at Steve’s thigh and at Steve’s ass, lifting him effortlessly so that his legs wrap around his waist, still pressed up against the edge of the pool.
Steve wonders if Tony has security cameras installed by the pool, makes a mental note to ask JARVIS about that - but then Thor’s hips are rolling into his, line of his cock pressing into his own and the mental notes are going to have to wait. “Hold on -” Steve says, and when Thor’s grip on his ass disappears and he grabs the edge of the pool instead, he realizes he took it literally. “No - just, wait a second.”
He gets a bemused look, but Steve ignores him and drops his legs. He pulls the drawstring on his swimming shorts - red, white and blue American flag patterned, to Tony’s immense pleasure - and then on Thor’s, and then he gets the picture. So when they float to the surface a few moments later, Steve has already moved on to bigger and better things, like jerking him off slowly under the water.
Thor stills him with a hand to his wrist, instead lifts him effortlessly so that his legs can wrap back around his waist and his arms loop around his neck. “Elskede Steven,” he says, pressing him back into the wall with his hips, and his hands skim back up his skin, wet and tacky from the pool water and the rain. His right hand cups his face, huge and warm, palm calloused from wielding Mjolnir. Steve turns his face into the touch, so that Thor’s thumb is pressed to his lips.
He flicks his tongue out over it, tastes chlorine and rain and the salty taste of his skin, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. Steve’s eyes don’t look away from Thor’s, and the thunderer groans, rough and low. His index and middle finger replace his thumb; the pads of his fingers are rough, but Steve drags his tongue over them and licks at the webbing in between. There’s a blur that is Thor fingering him open, one and then two and then three digits that are thick and feel so good.
It’s almost embarrassing the way that he’s trembling, lips pressed to Thor’s shoulder as he mouths pleas into his skin. Thor knows that he could get Steve off like this, has done it before, but instead he stops his movements and uses that hand that isn’t currently finger fucking him into near-oblivion to grasp his chin and turn his face so he can look him in the eye.
“Yeah,” Steve gasps, arching his neck. His pupils are dilated, black ringed by a sliver of blue. “Yeah, please - please,” he says, fingers flexing restlessly against Thor’s bare skin. He doesn’t know if they have anything to do with each other, but when Thor replaces his fingers with his cock, the head barely inside of him and splitting him open so good, Steve feels the rumble that drives through his chest, hears the answering roll of thunder in the clouds.
Thor grins breathlessly, teeth startlingly white against his tan skin. It’s still raining, warm splashes on their faces and shoulders. He leans over him, arms braced against the edges of the pool, hips grinding and driving into him slow and dirty under the water. Steve moans, ankles crossing behind Thor’s lower back and he digs his heels into his ass, trying to make him go deeper, harder. The muscles in his arms stand out as he balances himself, thrusting in sure, determined strokes that have Steve crying out every time he pushes back in.
The angle isn’t ideal for him, and he can barely move with the way he’s pinned, but Steve does his best to rock back against Thor, hips moving in counterpoint to his. He’s less vocal than the Asgardian who’s talking in his ear in a deep growl and making promises for later; but even then Steve can’t help the noises that come out of his mouth, mewls and moans that he tries to suppress by ducking his head, pressing his mouth to Thor’s shoulder.
Steve dips his hand under the water, angling between his and Thor’s bodies for his cock. His teeth dig into his lower lip, eyes shutting themselves tight, but Thor says in a sex-rough voice, “No, look at me.” He blinks his eyes open, palm twisting over the head of his cock at the same time that the thunder god twists his hips viciously so that he rubs over his prostate. Body tensing, Steve arches in a way so that the edge of the pool digs painfully into his back. To his credit, Thor keeps going through his orgasm, and his knack for saying exactly what pushes all of Steve’s buttons drags it out just that much longer.
He whites out for a moment, comes back to to the feeling of rain on his face and Thor stilling on top of him, come, wet and hot and already slipping out of him. Steve slides one hand into his hair, kissing him sloppy and slow. Their swim trunks are floating nearby, and Thor’s breath is hot on his cheek. Thunder rumbles in the distance.