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Summary
He doesn’t waste any time—he’s already running a bit late today, and Loki’s credit meter reads: 18. It’s one credit for one fuck. Thor only needs to come inside him twice to get him up to 20, and then Loki can get dinner and take the rest of the night off.
Thor pats that pale ass as a greeting. Loki shifts slightly, spreads his legs a bit more, toes brushing against the dull white linoleum. The bruises on his hips are lurid in the harsh fluorescent lights of the laundromat.
Without any more indication, Thor unzips his pants, takes out his cock, and slides in.
