A laugh again, lower and more breathless, and Thor draws back and thrusts forward again, a hand braced against the mattress; the other has one of Clint's wrists pinned up above his head. The man's body is bent to receive him, legs entwined about his waist, his hips in the air, his back and shoulders against the mattress, and Thor begins to ride into him easily, setting a smooth rocking pace. The grip of his body is undeniably welcoming. Tight heat clenched around him, taut and still yielding; the glide of his cock moves slick and easy through Barton, and Thor pays little mind to the fingers clenched bruisingly upon his forearm. They will do him no lasting harm.

"Does it serve for you?" But he doubts Clint would have welcomed him so swiftly had he not desired him.

Thor kisses him again and moves within him, knees spread on the mattress. Nothing about this troubles him; no, he falls easily and wholeheartedly into the pleasure, the intimacy and companionship such as only bedpartners can share, the take and give.