rainfall: A pair of hands holding an ornate teacup. The red fingernails and green shirt match the teacup's design. (teacups)
Libek ([personal profile] rainfall) wrote2013-07-27 12:44 pm

NIKE+ TRAINING, DAY... 6! And also some random smut.

Today, while desperately struggling to get through Lunge 1.5s, which are my worst exercise by far, I discovered

a secret.

Last year, when I had food poisoning, [personal profile] sincere told me that she'd read about a wacky phenomenon where (women especially?) (people in general?) find, like, pain and nausea easier to endure when thinking about porn. :|a

So I decided to apply this technique.

With its help, I actually got through the Lunge 1.5s without stopping for the first time ever!

Here is what I thought about, as best as I can recreate it:

Untitled Workout Porn

Loki's tongue, talented and wicked and quick as a snake, curled around the head of his cock and whited out every other thought until there was nothing but this moment and the pleasure of it. Flickers and slow drags, drawing the sweat and musk from his skin with breathless attention, almost hunger.

Looking down at him made Thor ache, and as if Loki knew how badly he wanted to watch -- to keep his eyes open and focused -- the bastard redoubled his efforts sweetly, reddened lips pursed tight, sinking down, swallowing his flesh inch by delirious inch, a beautiful sight that blurred and faded and vanished completely as he lost the fight. Loki's name on his lips, blessing or curse or both.

It was -- so much more perfect than it had any right to be, Loki so much better at this than he had any right to be, his tongue moist and hot and silken, his mouth soft and welcoming, never any hint of teeth unless he meant there to be. Thor shuddered beneath him, panting, and let his head tip back.

Like this, it was easy to forget all that had, that would, pass between them; images and words and deeds and blood all melted away in the white. No: they were seared away, like charred meat from bone, and it was all he could do to hold on to Loki's hair and his teeth as he came undone.

He wanted to last, through the first dizzy onslaught that always felt a little like an attack, long enough for Loki to ease back and give him the chance to sit up, to take him and spend his seed within him and give back some of this relentless pleasure -- bring him to the same place of white-hot unconcern. Brand him, as he himself was branded--

--but Loki never gave him that satisfaction, and when he drew back it was with a lingering wet plop, immediately followed by the hot stripe of his tongue painting saliva down the underside of Thor's cock. There he went lower and lower, until he could lavish attention on the sack strung tight beneath them, deceptively gentle suction until Thor couldn't even remember that there was something he wanted to remember.

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