The radio was playing, but it was turned down too low to hear anything but the beat. All it did was add a layer of noise to the sounds in the dark of the bedroom, and Tom leaned his head back against the wall, his breath fast becoming staccato. His hands scrabbled over the wall and headboard seeking purchase, fingers splayed out and curling spasmodically. His knees were beginning to shake from the effort, every part of him tense.  Reaching out, he buried his hands in her hair, not pulling, just letting the locks twist around his fingers and anchor him as he sought to draw her near. “Close!” he hissed.

There was a loud slap and a long gurgling moan, the echo racing over him as she rocked forward, her hands running up his straining legs, skating along his hips and grabbing behind him. Her nails pressed into the hard flesh with a sharp bite and scored him with frantic scratches as she continued the wet rhythm, the sound of flesh on flesh maddening. A deep growl purred through the room with the command, “Finish him.”

Tom’s eyes remained stubbornly shut, wanting to enhance his other senses. He felt the explosion race up from between his legs, punching his spine into a wild thrusting dance. A choking cry tore from his throat as he lost himself to the slick slide of her mouth, the pull of her lips around him as she sucked and swallowed, screaming around him as she joined him in pleasure.

A low, gravelly laugh reached them, and she reared back, letting him go with a loud moan. She pinned him against the headboard, face pressed to his belly, her hands locked to the flat surface. Her breasts pressed against his thighs, presented like a gift, urging him to stroke his released, slick cock between them. He opened his eyes to look down.

She was lost in the sex, mouth agape, eyes closed as she was fucked, each stroke slamming her against him as she knelt between them. She clung to the headboard and him like she was shipwrecked, the relentless pounding of ocean waves driving her up against his shore. Hands cupped her breasts, twisting and rubbing her hard nipples, fingertips skittering against the smooth hard muscle of his still-shaking legs.

“Watch her.”

He locked his gaze on her as she arched back, begging, drowning, his cock weeping like sea foam on her chest, and he wanted to kiss her, to drink down her pleasure. He felt her orgasm crest over her body, rushing along her skin. He leaned forward as well as he could, kissing her hair, her forehead. His hands untangled from her locks and slid across her shoulders, petting them. He looked up into the lust-drunk gleaming stare of the other behind her, who grinned back with a feral hunger.

“In the end,” Loki chuckled, “you will always kneel.”