[Ultimates] It All Seems Limitless
TITLE: It All Seems Limitless
FANDOM: Ultimates
RATING: R
PAIRING: Thor/Tony
WORD COUNT: 1 078
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is set in Ultimates. As in, having nothing to do with any Ultimate-'verse canon beyond Ultimates #1 - 13. And let's be honest here: In Ultimates, Tony and Thor definitely have a thing going on. Total bromance. Also, I don't actually like Ultimates 'verse, but Tony and Thor (and Peter) are just plain adorable, and need to go off and have wacky adventures in Europe or something and leave everyone else to their Dark and Grittiness.
SUMMARY: Tony doesn't have much time left.
It All Seems Limitless
Thor wonders, sometimes, what he's doing with Tony. It is hardly because he himself is a god and Tony is a mortal human that he questions it; Thor is fond of Midgard, and in many ways, humans are not unlike gods. Humans, in the way of the gods, can be arrogant, and foolish, and wasteful; in fact, they often are. However, they are still mortal, and Thor has accepted that those humans whom he loves will die long before he himself perishes in Ragnarök. Their lives are almost unbearably short, in comparison to his; a paltry eight or nine decades on average.
With Tony, Thor will not have even that small amount of time.
Thor doesn't knock on Tony's front door. Tony had insisted that Thor simply walk in ("After all, old boy, what could you possibly catch me doing that would embarrass me?"), especially since there isn't a point to knocking; indeed, the door is always unlocked by the time Thor reaches it. Tony says that there is a sensor a few feet from the door that recognizes who approaches, and subsequently unlocks the door for friends. Thor cares little for the specifics; it is the meaning that matters. Tony's home is, quite literally, always open to him.
He finds Tony entertaining a young woman, the two of them sequestered together on the couch in the far corner of the oversized living room. She is a beautiful dark-haired woman, though her laughter leaves Thor with the impression of insipidness. Per usual, Tony is nursing a drink, the ice tinkling in the glass as he idly swirls the liquid, gesturing with his other hand while relating a storya joke, perhapswhich makes her laugh again, though it is too low for Thor to hear what Tony is saying.
Tony breaks off abruptly, however, as he notices Thor, and his grin widens as he sets his drink down onto the table. "My apologies, darling," he says to the woman, standing and gently tugging her with him. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut this lovely visit short."
"Tony," she begins, frowning, and then she, too, spots Thor. Her eyes widen. "Oh!"
"Precisely, sweetie," Tony says, placing one hand on the small of her back and gently propelling her toward the door. "Ultimates' business, you know."
"O-of course," she stammers, still staring at Thor with a mix of awe and disbelief. It's a look he's used to seeing, but it still amuses him. She's still glancing over her shoulder at him as Tony closes the door after her.
"You think your divinity allows you to ruin my dates, O great God of Thunder?" Tony asks, sauntering over to Thor with an eyebrow raised. His tone is vaguely mocking, but he's smiling, and it negates the insult. A gentle teasing, born of friendship rather than disbelief.
Thor wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders, tugging him forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Tony chuckles, tilting his head back slightly, and Thor obliges him with a true kiss. As always, Tony tastes of expensive liquor and the promise of sex. It's a taste Thor has grown fond of.
Tony had explained to Thor, with that same careless grin he always wore, that the alcohol was the only thing that numbed his constant pain. Thor had thought it was the tumor that was causing his suffering, but Tony had gone on to describe his unique neural condition.
Which also explains his addiction to sex. The first time, Tony's responsiveness had been a (pleasant) surprise to Thor, though it makes sense. Even with the bio-armor, Tony is still more sensitive than most. The rush of endorphins that come with sex likely block the pain more effectively than the alcohol, if not as long.
"Not here," Thor rumbles into Tony's mouth, tugging him away from the living room. Tony may be able to get away with having sex on the couch with women, but Thor is far too big for the couch to be practical, and Tony, despite being leanly built, is not a small man. They end up in Tony's ridiculously oversized bedroom, on a king-sized bed with more than enough room for both of them.
Tony's reputation is well-deserved; he never disappoints, wrapping his legs around Thor's hips and matching Thor's rhythm apparently effortlessly. Tony pants and writhes and cries out, and moans into Thor's mouth when Thor leans down to kiss him. He kisses back, hard, fingers threading through Thor's hair and tugging him down even as his body arches.
Tony told him once that during sex, good sex, is the only time when his brain isn't doing a hundred things at once. His brain is his entire nervous system, and when he's that high on pleasure, on how good his entire body feels, there isn't much room left for anything else.
Thor doesn't doubt that. Tony's gaze is sharp and focused during sex in a way it never is anywhere else, when he's running a company and working on his armor and having a sixth drink and arranging dates with multiple women, all at the same time. There's always a part of him that's distant, then; he will remember everything you say down to the very inflection of your words, but it's obvious that his full attention is not yours.
When Thor is braced on his arms above Tony, watching him shudder through an orgasm, Tony's body tightening as every muscle tenses up, toes curling with pure pleasure, Thor knows beyond a doubt that Tony's full attention is right here, and nowhere else.
Thor isn't entirely sure whether Tony enjoys cuddling in general, or if Thor is the exception. Either way, Tony just about purrs when Thor pulls him close afterward, no matter the sweat and come slicking their skin. It has not escaped Thor's notice that Tony soaks up affection, maybe even craves it, and it's not exactly a hardship for Thor to give it to him.
Thor has had few genuine, loyal friends in his life, and he recognizes when he's found one. Tony doesn't have much time left, it's true. Thor isn't in love with him, but the type of love he does feel is just as deep, and it hurts terribly to think of losing Tony in such a way, and so soon. Thor is millennia old. Tony will never see his thirtieth birthday.
But Thor has him now, and that will have to be enough.
We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.
Paul Bowles
FANDOM: Ultimates
RATING: R
PAIRING: Thor/Tony
WORD COUNT: 1 078
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is set in Ultimates. As in, having nothing to do with any Ultimate-'verse canon beyond Ultimates #1 - 13. And let's be honest here: In Ultimates, Tony and Thor definitely have a thing going on. Total bromance. Also, I don't actually like Ultimates 'verse, but Tony and Thor (and Peter) are just plain adorable, and need to go off and have wacky adventures in Europe or something and leave everyone else to their Dark and Grittiness.
SUMMARY: Tony doesn't have much time left.
It All Seems Limitless
Thor wonders, sometimes, what he's doing with Tony. It is hardly because he himself is a god and Tony is a mortal human that he questions it; Thor is fond of Midgard, and in many ways, humans are not unlike gods. Humans, in the way of the gods, can be arrogant, and foolish, and wasteful; in fact, they often are. However, they are still mortal, and Thor has accepted that those humans whom he loves will die long before he himself perishes in Ragnarök. Their lives are almost unbearably short, in comparison to his; a paltry eight or nine decades on average.
With Tony, Thor will not have even that small amount of time.
Thor doesn't knock on Tony's front door. Tony had insisted that Thor simply walk in ("After all, old boy, what could you possibly catch me doing that would embarrass me?"), especially since there isn't a point to knocking; indeed, the door is always unlocked by the time Thor reaches it. Tony says that there is a sensor a few feet from the door that recognizes who approaches, and subsequently unlocks the door for friends. Thor cares little for the specifics; it is the meaning that matters. Tony's home is, quite literally, always open to him.
He finds Tony entertaining a young woman, the two of them sequestered together on the couch in the far corner of the oversized living room. She is a beautiful dark-haired woman, though her laughter leaves Thor with the impression of insipidness. Per usual, Tony is nursing a drink, the ice tinkling in the glass as he idly swirls the liquid, gesturing with his other hand while relating a storya joke, perhapswhich makes her laugh again, though it is too low for Thor to hear what Tony is saying.
Tony breaks off abruptly, however, as he notices Thor, and his grin widens as he sets his drink down onto the table. "My apologies, darling," he says to the woman, standing and gently tugging her with him. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut this lovely visit short."
"Tony," she begins, frowning, and then she, too, spots Thor. Her eyes widen. "Oh!"
"Precisely, sweetie," Tony says, placing one hand on the small of her back and gently propelling her toward the door. "Ultimates' business, you know."
"O-of course," she stammers, still staring at Thor with a mix of awe and disbelief. It's a look he's used to seeing, but it still amuses him. She's still glancing over her shoulder at him as Tony closes the door after her.
"You think your divinity allows you to ruin my dates, O great God of Thunder?" Tony asks, sauntering over to Thor with an eyebrow raised. His tone is vaguely mocking, but he's smiling, and it negates the insult. A gentle teasing, born of friendship rather than disbelief.
Thor wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders, tugging him forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Tony chuckles, tilting his head back slightly, and Thor obliges him with a true kiss. As always, Tony tastes of expensive liquor and the promise of sex. It's a taste Thor has grown fond of.
Tony had explained to Thor, with that same careless grin he always wore, that the alcohol was the only thing that numbed his constant pain. Thor had thought it was the tumor that was causing his suffering, but Tony had gone on to describe his unique neural condition.
Which also explains his addiction to sex. The first time, Tony's responsiveness had been a (pleasant) surprise to Thor, though it makes sense. Even with the bio-armor, Tony is still more sensitive than most. The rush of endorphins that come with sex likely block the pain more effectively than the alcohol, if not as long.
"Not here," Thor rumbles into Tony's mouth, tugging him away from the living room. Tony may be able to get away with having sex on the couch with women, but Thor is far too big for the couch to be practical, and Tony, despite being leanly built, is not a small man. They end up in Tony's ridiculously oversized bedroom, on a king-sized bed with more than enough room for both of them.
Tony's reputation is well-deserved; he never disappoints, wrapping his legs around Thor's hips and matching Thor's rhythm apparently effortlessly. Tony pants and writhes and cries out, and moans into Thor's mouth when Thor leans down to kiss him. He kisses back, hard, fingers threading through Thor's hair and tugging him down even as his body arches.
Tony told him once that during sex, good sex, is the only time when his brain isn't doing a hundred things at once. His brain is his entire nervous system, and when he's that high on pleasure, on how good his entire body feels, there isn't much room left for anything else.
Thor doesn't doubt that. Tony's gaze is sharp and focused during sex in a way it never is anywhere else, when he's running a company and working on his armor and having a sixth drink and arranging dates with multiple women, all at the same time. There's always a part of him that's distant, then; he will remember everything you say down to the very inflection of your words, but it's obvious that his full attention is not yours.
When Thor is braced on his arms above Tony, watching him shudder through an orgasm, Tony's body tightening as every muscle tenses up, toes curling with pure pleasure, Thor knows beyond a doubt that Tony's full attention is right here, and nowhere else.
Thor isn't entirely sure whether Tony enjoys cuddling in general, or if Thor is the exception. Either way, Tony just about purrs when Thor pulls him close afterward, no matter the sweat and come slicking their skin. It has not escaped Thor's notice that Tony soaks up affection, maybe even craves it, and it's not exactly a hardship for Thor to give it to him.
Thor has had few genuine, loyal friends in his life, and he recognizes when he's found one. Tony doesn't have much time left, it's true. Thor isn't in love with him, but the type of love he does feel is just as deep, and it hurts terribly to think of losing Tony in such a way, and so soon. Thor is millennia old. Tony will never see his thirtieth birthday.
But Thor has him now, and that will have to be enough.
We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.
Paul Bowles