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Limits

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Here’s the thing: gods have stamina.

And Tony? Not quite that much stamina.

Sure, he’s never let a lover down, never disappointed, is a sex-god among men and is very fit and healthy for a man of forty-cough-cough. But. Even he can’t come eight times in one hour.

And Loki can.

This presents Tony with something of a dilemma.

Or, it did, before he found the world’s best ever solution.

Loki’s spread-eagle across the bed, flushed and sweaty and gasping for breath, face down and hands twisting in the sheets, grinding his hips hard against the mattress. Every glorious muscle is tensed and on display, his perfect ass even firmer than usual, and shifting as he writhes. His hair spills across his shoulders and the sheets, curling slightly and damp with his sweat.

And the humming vibrator fills the room with its buzzing and the slick sound of its thrusts in and out of Loki’s ass.

Tony runs a thumb over the buttons of the remote in his hand. One move, one push, and he can up the vibrations, thrusts per minute, diameter, or the heat of the gel pads he’s stuck to sensitive areas, the small of Loki’s back and the insides of his knees and the nape of his neck. There’s an option for direct electrostimulation, too, that he perfected just last week and hasn’t told Loki about yet.

He wants Loki exhausted, wants him wrung-out and stupid and too tired to get it up again, wants to finally find the limits of his stamina.

For now, though, Loki’s still going strong, still pushing back into the vibrator and rubbing himself off against the bed like there’s no tomorrow, determined to come again, like four times already isn’t enough for him. And it’s not, really, because although it still sounds weird on paper, Loki is an actual god, and human limits do not apply where Loki’s concerned.

Marathon sex, only all contained within a single hour or less? Not the craziest thing that is now part of Tony’s life.

Tony came ages ago, fucked Loki before he even got the toy into him, and his skin shivers again at the thought that the vibrator is sliding through his come, pushing it deeper inside Loki, all wet and filthy. Tony wants more, wants to come as many times as Loki’s capable of, fill him to the brim, wants to see his come dripping out of Loki’s raw and puffy hole.

But that vibrator’s his personal design, and it’s got his logo on it, his name sliding against Loki’s slippery walls, and that’s as close as he’s going to get.

He drops the remote to the lounger he’s lying on, admiring the view, and stands up and walks over to the bed. He takes Loki’s warm, slightly shaking hand in one of his, and sits down by his head, avoiding the spread of black hair.

“How’s things, Dionysus?”

Loki tosses his head to flick his hair out of the way, and smiles up at Tony. “This new toy of yours is - quite improved - over the last.”

His voice is breathy and rough, but he’s still forming coherent words, so there’s a long way to go. Tony wants the silvertongue limp and tarnished, reduced to fuck and please and Tony and then strings of tangled nothings. And he’s going to get it.

Loki squeezes Tony’s hand. “Is there more?”

Tony grins. “Oh, precious, there’s a hell of a lot more.”

He pats Loki’s shoulder, keep up the good work, and takes the couple steps necessary to toss himself back down across the lounger, picks up the remote again, and twists the first dial his thumb finds. “There’s that…” That’s the heat in the gel packs, and Loki moans and undulates under it - he loves heat play, wax play, fire, anything - his hips caught between lifting into the pad at his back and pushing down into the bed.

Next dial. “And that…” That’s the diameter, the internal structure of the vibrator expanding, and stretching the malleable plastic of the exterior and the skin and flesh of Loki’s ass with it. He’s been ramping that one up constantly, keeping Loki full as his muscles get loose; he’s just taking it further this time, pushing his limits instead of working with them, and Loki shifts, trying to find his balance again.

“These two go great together, seriously, you feel that?” Thrust and vibration rate, both higher, and Loki quivers and spasms under that, everything made more intense by the way the vibrator’s pressing against him harder, bigger than it was a minute ago, and he keens softly, apparently without meaning to, the note rising and falling without his normal perfect control.

“And the coup de grace…” Tony hits the button for electricity at the tip.

Loki screams and comes barely a second later, flying apart under the sudden shock, head thrown back and hips stuttering against the mattress, every muscle tensed, mouth agape. He’s beautiful, wrecked and ruined and still only going to ask for more.

Tony lets him enjoy it, pulls back on the settings a little, kills the electrostimulation totally and just watches Loki catch his breath, shoulders heaving, sweat shining all across his flawless, delicious skin, flushed red with exertion. One by one, his muscles relax, flow back smoothly into each other, and leave him melted into the sheets, fucked-out and boneless and lovely.

That’s the fifth time.

Loki’s breaths slow, get less desperate, and the white-knuckled grip on the sheets eases up until his long, elegant fingers are just lying there. He draws in a deep breath, and lifts his head to look at Tony.

That is new.”

“Yep,” Tony says, smirking. “Like it?” 

“Were you not paying attention?”

Tony chuckles, and resists the urge to throw the remote at Loki’s smug face. He needs that thing.

“Okay, so that’s a hit. Want some more?”

Loki arches his spine, and grins hungrily. “Oh, yes.”

Tony twirls the dials back up, and sets the electrostimulation to random discharge. Loki howls, high and gleeful, and drops back flat to the bed, rolling his hips into the vibrator and fucking himself against the growing wet patch in the sheets, and Tony settles back into the lounger to enjoy the show. 

And direct it along the way.