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Ice and Lightning

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Steve Rogers stood on the balcony of Stark’s tower in New York, leaning against the railing looking down at the street below. The people no bigger than drops of water, cohesive and insular; rain-drop fast, fog mist slow. The wind was blowing harsh high up here, cutting through Steve’s clothes; chilling him to his bones.

Steve was not sure who he was anymore. Steve was cold.

They had not found Bucky. And what was worse is they had lost him in the Alps in Switzerland… again. That had bothered Steve more than when they lost him in Arizona, and when they lost him in Singapore. Sam nearly died in Singapore, and he and Steve had to be air-lifted out by Tony’s body man. Flying across the Pacific back to the states in the dead of night, ice-air blowing through the chopper, as warm blood trickled over Steve’s hand as he pressed down on the wound with a bandage. Tony had offered up his place in Malibu while Sam was in the hospital. Steve still smelled the blood seeping from Sam’s neck.

Then with Sam out of the fight, Steve and Natasha got a lead to Switzerland. It was just like before, and it was entirely different. They were on a train, again. There was a fight, again. Bucky fell off… no, he jumped, rolling down the few feet away from the tracks on the snowy floor just as the train went over a bridge over a large crevasse. Steve could not jump after him, but damn he wanted to. For that moment he felt his coldest.

He looked back out the train door as Bucky stood up, a black silhouette against the white-grey snow, and it was almost worse than seeing him fall back in 1944. Steve was about to jump of the bridge. He would have if Natasha had not pulled him back. He could have reached over and grabbed on to the scaffolding. He could have flung himself back towards the hill. He could have run back up to Bucky. He could have—

“Damn it!” He struck out at the railing of the balcony, feeling the hard metal bend under his knuckles. He could feel his knuckles crack as they hit, the skin of them split from the impact. It did not make him feel much better.

“I’m sure whatever crime the railing committed did not warrant such punishment,” said a low voice from behind him. Steve twitched at the sound. He was not alone in the world, in the tower, on the balcony.

Steve collected himself, exhaling a long, ragged breath. “Thor,” he managed to say at last. He turned to look at the god, trying desperately to school his features. “Welcome back.” Steve tried for a moment to maintain eye contact with Thor, but found he did not care. He looked back out from the tower, at the city beyond, seeing nothing.

“May I join you?” His voice was low and soft. There was a sudden gust of wind, and Steve almost could not hear him.

“I’d rather be alone, actually.” Steve tried to keep the venom from his voice, but failed.

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you leaving?” he could feel the mask coming up. Captain America, firm and rational, ready to order Thor as far away as he reasonably could. His voice grew steady, his jaw tight, and he thought he might never take the mask off again.

“You would have to throw me from this ledge for me to leave you at a time like this, Captain.”

The wind scraped against Steve’s cheeks, as he clenched his teeth. His knuckles had healed, but there was still the slick stick of blood on his skin as he gripped the railing.

“I’m not gonna ask again.”

“Let us spar.” Steve feels a large hand clap on his shoulder, warm and firm, fingers digging into his bicep for just a moment, before pulling away. “Fight out this ill humor.”

Thor’s steps sounded on the floor of the balcony before Steve heard the door slide open and then closed behind him. He looked out once more from the edge. The sun had set and the sky was turning a muddy, blue, orange, grey. He cursed softly under his breath and turned and followed Thor.


Crack! Thor blocked Steve’s right roundhouse punch with an elbow to his forearm. The bones strained under the impact. Steve did not care.

Steve swung with his other hand, and Thor blocked it, checking the blow, and then countering with a back-knuckle strike to Steve’s cheek. Steve felt the blow almost connect before throwing his head away, and hurling a late, poor block to the back of Thor’s hand.

Slam! Steve threw a punch to Thor’s bare ribs, hitting, but not as hard as he wanted, as the bones of his right hand burned from the fracture as they hit, and even Steve could not fight the body’s need to pull away from pain.

“Focus, Steven,” Thor said calmly, barely panting.

Steve saw red. With a feral yell he struck at Thor once more, thrashing wildly, hands, knees, feet, and Thor stopped striking back, only blocking Steve’s fast, hard, erratic blows.

Something was churning within Steve’s gut as Thor blocked blow after blow, effortlessly, obnoxiously. There was only the lightest sheen of sweat on his naked chest as Steve kept trying to mar him, break him, kill him.

Thor’s hands gripped Steve’s wrists, and with a roar Steve tried to pull away. Thor expertly used Steve’s body weight against him, and in an instant, Steve was spun around and pressed against the wall, pinned by Thor, face making contact with the cool plaster of the wall. He screamed and kicked and thrashed against the god but could not escape.

“God damnit, Bucky!”

Thor’s grip loosened for a mere moment, shocked at the outburst, and Steve spun out, swinging his elbow into Thor’s face, making contact with a sickening sound. But Thor pinned him once more, back up against the wall, pushing so hard and so close that it forced the air from Steve’s lungs, hot skin burning.

 “Captain, calm down.” Steve saw a trickle of blood run down from Thor’s nose. Thor wiped it away and no more came out. Steve managed to free his right hand and swung it wildly at Thor, who caught him by the wrist and slammed his whole arm against the wall. Steve’s bones crunched under Thor’s hands. Broken, definitely broken this time, if they weren’t already. He cried out, unwillingly, as the pain coursed through his arm. It would heal, sooner rather than later, but still he tried to break free. “Enough, Steven.” The voice was a low rumble by his ears, and he strained to pull away, to break free. “Enough of that, now. Breathe.”

A low whine sounded somewhere deep in Steve’s throat. He did not even know he could make a noise like that. He tried to suck in a breath, and it filled his lungs, shaking and wet, enclosed in a sob.

“Breathe it out, Steven.”

No, no, no, no, no.

He fought against Thor, shaking and erratic. Thor’s arm snaked up Steve’s chest, and the bigger man lay his forearm under Steve’s chin, pinning him down. Steve grunted underneath him, clawing at the arm with his free hand.

Then Thor squeezed Steve’s right arm, broken and still pinned above his head. Pain shot through Steve’s arm and into his core as he gasped out in shock. It was a burn through his muscles, white-hot, lightning-fierce. Thor squeezed once more, and Steve screamed out, trying to pull away, though this time all thoughts of fighting, lashing out, vengeance were momentarily forgotten.

Thor let go of Steve’s arm, and he pulled it in, cradling it against his chest. Thor shifted, and bracketed Steve between his arms, and legs as Steve panted against the wall.

Thor’s breath was warm against Steve’s cheeks, and Steve could smell the sweat on his skin. He looked down, towards the sparring mat, under Thor’s arms, knowing that Thor was trying to look into his eyes. Steve could not stand to look at Thor right now. The adrenaline was coursing out of him, leaving a bitter taste in Steve’s mouth as his breaths came heavy and ragged into his lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“You’re not. I hope it helped.”

“You can’t help.” The words left Steve’s mouth without his consent.

“Distraction can help this feeling. I know from experience.”

Distraction. Steve remembered what had led to this in the first place. “Well I’m not distracted anymore.”

“The night is young. There are other things we can do to keep your mind from your troubles.”

“I’ve got lots of bones to break.”

Thor’s hand was suddenly on the back of Steve’s head, gripping his hair violently and jerking Steve back, exposing his throat. “No more of that. You need stronger medicine.” his voice was soft, low.

Steve gasped, scrambling a little on his toes, trying to gain purchase.

“Thor,” he said, barely more than a whisper. It was part warning, part hesitation, part pleading. He reached up and wrapped his hand around Thor’s wrist as Thor gripped his hair even tighter. The feel of it shot straight to Steve’s core and he bit back a groan. His blood was still coursing madly through his veins, and a detour down to between his legs was no trouble at all at this point. Thor’s arm was warm beneath his fingers, and he found himself not trying to pull it away from his hair, but simply holding it, feeling the taut muscles shift beneath his skin, hot under his palms.

Thor’s thigh pushed between Steve’s legs, grinding hard against Steve’s crotch and this time Steve really did groan. They were flush together now, chests pressing, breathing heavy breaths in time with one another. Thor loosened his grip on Steve’s hair, and Steve bent his head down just barely, but enough to meet the other man’s eyes, well aware his neck was still exposed.

Steve was certain his heart stopped for just a moment. He was expecting wide eyes, blown with lust to be staring back at him, instead it was the opposite. Thor was calm, patient, waiting for Steve to act, to react, to move, to take the next step. Thor ran his hands through Steve’s hair, cupping the back of his head. The faintest ghost of a smile flickered on Thor’s face. Steve licked his lips, and Thor’s eyes flicked down at them for a brief moment before looking back up at Steve. Sure, he was calm, but maybe there was the tiniest bit of lust there.

“Are we doing this?” Steve breathed.

“You wish to?”

Steve felt his eyes slip closed. All around him was warm, warm Thor. His hand on his face, his body pressed against his, his heat on his skin. He’d been so damned cold for so damned long, he was drowning in it. Drowning in the Atlantic, drowning in the Potomac. Thor was lightning hot against him, and it was seeping into his skin through his thin t-shirt. He pulled back an inch, possibly even less, but just enough for a wisp of cool air to sneak in, sticking to his skin like ice. Was his temperature dropping even now? The train, the snow, Bucky.


Steve heard him, but it was far away, muted. From a different world, something shifted nearby him and Thor’s hand, the one braced against the wall by his face, snaked in between them, reaching for something, finding his broken, but healing arm and—

With a firm squeeze, Steve gasped out as pain shot through him once more. Thor was pressing against his broken arm, and the white hot pain was coursing through him once more.

“Stay here, Steven. I’m sorry, but… Stay here.”

Steve opened his eyes, meeting Thor’s once more. A distraction.

“Are you with me?” Thor asked. “Do you wish to do this?”

Steve sucked in a breath and nodded.

Looking back, Steve was not sure who initiated it, but in an instant they were kissing. Thor’s tongue was in Steve’s mouth, and Steve was pulling Thor in even closer, both hands around the god’s face. Thor may have been the one who started it, rushing forth at Steve’s nod and claiming his lips like he had been wanting this for months. Steve may have started the kiss, desperate to taste the god’s lips and feel the press of his warm, bearded face against his skin. Desperate for the heat. He would never know. All he knew at that moment was that his heart was pounding in his chest for a whole new set of reasons. He needed Thor's heat, and he needed it everywhere.

His hands ran down Thor’s chest, sticking slightly from sweat and feeling inches of skin and hair and panes of muscles. He dug his fingers into Thor’s ribs, trying to pull him even closer, as Thor’s mouth moved from Steve’s and down to Steve’s neck.

Thor ground his hips against Steve’s, and Steve could feel the man’s erection pressing into body, and gasped. Steve’s body took control then, pushing right back into Thor, finding that perfect friction in between his legs, almost straddling Thor’s thigh as they churned, and moved together. 

Thor pulled his mouth from Steve’s skin and Steve whined at its loss.

“Should we do this here?” Thor asked

What? “I don’t— what do you—?” Where else is there?

“Where are you sleeping?”

“27th floor.” Who cares, why do you care? 

“I am closer than you. Let us go there.”

Thor broke apart, pulling away from Steve, and it took all of Steve’s self control not to just move with him, keep flush against the god for as long as possible. He leaned back against the wall, breathing hard, staring at Thor.

“By the stars, you are desperate for it, aren’t you?” Thor said. Steve’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, panting through his nose. Thor reached up and ever so gently ran a knuckle down Steve’s cheeks. That small touch was just as much a jolt of hot electricity as Thor’s kiss, as Thor’s body pressed against his. “Come then. Let us go.”


The ride up the elevator was interminable. They stood apart, acting like adults, like team members. Steve was grateful for his loose workout sweats, they almost camouflaged his erection. Steve felt he was almost doubled over in want, while Thor stood tall, calm, completely unperturbed. Still shirtless, but that was a common occurrence in the tower by now.

The elevator stopped halfway up, and Thor shifted ever so slightly to stand in just a little front of Steve as Pepper walked in with a chipper smile.

“Gentlemen,” she said.

“Miss Potts,” Steve replied with a nod, trying not to sound strained.

“Ah, Lady Pepper. Good day.”

She nodded at them both and said nothing, turning around to face the door of the elevator. Steve was holding his breath, counting the floors as they went up the elevator shaft, tapping his fingers against his thigh to keep from thinking about Thor’s body, Thor’s skin, Thor’s heat.

They reached Pepper’s floor, and she got off with a crisp “Have a great evening!” and a smirk.

The door closed once more, and Steve sighed in relief.

“I don’t think she figured it out,” he said at last.

“Oh you are quiet wrong. Pepper is an intelligent women. She knows exactly what we plan on doing.”

“Uh… oh.”

“Intelligent, but discrete, I’d imagine.”

“I hope so.”


They finally stepped out onto Thor’s floor. Steve stilled. What now?

Thor’s hand touched the small of Steve’s back, hot skin radiating through Steve’s shirt. Steve pulled his shirt off in a flash, turning to Thor and pressing his lips against the god’s once more. He was frantic, trying to make up for the time lost on the elevator. He dug his nails into Thor’s skin, and ran his teeth over the skin of Thor’s neck. His hands ran down, and found Thor’s crotch, and Steve squeezed, drawing out a low, deep moan from the god. The sound shot straight into Steve’s core, tightening in his abdomen like a vice grip.

“Steven, wait. You are not yourself.” Thor reached down and tried to grab Steve’s hands, tried to still Steve and Steve was having none of it.

“Damn it, Thor. I just want—“

“You want flesh, you need to breathe.”

“I’m breathing just fine, let me go.”

“I said, wait.” Thor’s hand pulled on Steve’s hair again, and Steve groaned, pressing up against Thor, but stilling. “You are like the wind, everywhere and nowhere. I need you here.”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” I’m right fucking here.

“Steven, breathe.” How could Thor make a gentle request sound like an order? His voice was low, and Steve thought for a moment about the deadly weapon holding him still. Steve finally let out a breath he had not realized he was holding, his body relaxing, but just barely, in Thor’s arms.

Thor let him go, and took a step back and they stood staring at each other, each breathing deeply. There was something in Thor’s eyes that Steve recognized from other people, from years before, from another world. Pity. Steve turned away. If it weren’t for the hard, painful erection in his pants, and the desperate need to feel something on his skin, anything, Steve would have left. He did not have time for pity; he would not entertain it for one iota of a second.

“Go to the bed,” Thor said. — Thor ordered — “I will meet you there in a moment.”

Steve walked through the apartment. It was laid out just like his, and he knew his way. He sat on the edge bed, which had the same kind of sheets as his, red though, not blue. It felt familiar and foreign all at once. He looked up as Thor stepped in, hair tied back, walking by Steve a small jar of something in his hand, dropped down carefully on the nightstand. Thor stood over him, looking down at Steve, and Steve felt small again, if only for a second. Thor ran his hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve leaned his head into the touch, desperate for contact, desperate for warmth.

“Take off your pants, and lie down.”

Steve fumbled around, tearing his pants off and throwing them aside, he scrambled up the bed, and pulled Thor’s hand, trying to pull the man down on top of him, but Thor did not budge.

“Lay back, Steven. Put your hands above your head, and keep them there.”

Steve did as he was told, heart thudding in his chest. He dug his fingers into the pillow behind him, feeling exposed, like a live-wire, ready to burst into flame. He shuddered as he tried to breathe. Thor finally knelt on the bed, straddling Steve’s hips, kneeling over him and staring down. There still was no real, blown out lust in his eyes, but at least there was no more pity. There was something in his eyes though, something that Steve could not quite place as he looked up at the man desperate for him to move, to touch him, to do something, anything at all.

Thor finally placed his broad hand on Steve’s chest, right on his sternum. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Steve’s. Steve moaned and pushed up against Thor, trying to taste the man above him. Without thinking, he pulled his hands from the pillow, running them through Thor’s hair.

Thor pulled away, pushing Steve back down on the bed by his shoulders.

“I said, leave your hands above your head.”

“Thor, I can’t, I—“

“Steven, focus.” Just like when they were sparring. His voice was lower, more raw, more feral, but the same. It shot to Steve’s groin, and he bit back a whimper as he put his hand back on the pillow, gripping it so tightly his arms were shaking.

Then Thor began exploring Steve’s body, with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his skin. Steve writhed underneath him desperate to reciprocate, desperate to feel. His erection grew even greater as he lay on the bed panting and holding back whimpers. It lay heavily on his stomach, and Steve sucked in a breath as Thor’s hands moved ever closer to it. Steve was certain he was about to rip the pillow above him, send the feathers flying, but still he gripped it. There was a dull ache in his right arm as the fracture began to heal, but still all his strength was pouring into not moving his hands.

“Good, Steven. You are doing well.” And the words made Steve gasp.

Thor ran his hands down Steve’s chest, and settled on his hips. He leaned down, and took Steve’s member into his mouth, faster than Steve could process, and Steve was left bucking up and gasping as Thor swallowed him down, holding him by the hips. Still Steve left his hands buried in the pillow.

“Thor, Thor!” He was gasping, moaning, as Thor came up, licking the head of his member with a flick, before going back down, sucking Steve expertly. Steve was shaking, his body quivered under Thor’s ministrations and he might have fallen off the bed if Thor had not pinned him down. Thor reached up one hand and held onto Steve’s erection, pointing a finger up along the length of it. When Thor’s head bobbed back down he swallowed that finger as well, coating it in saliva, moaning a filthy moan around Steve’s member. He pulled his hand back and snaked it under Steve’s body and between his legs, finding Steve’s asshole, never taking his mouth off of Steve’s erection.

Steve gasped and bucked once more, as Thor circled his entrance slowly with his spit-wet finger, before finally pushing through the ring of muscles and into Steve’s body. Steve sucked in breath after breath but could not feel the oxygen in his lungs. His feet scrambled for purchase, slipping around the sheets as Thor held him still.

“Hush, Steven. Breathe. Focus. Be still and let it happen.”

Steve nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as Thor pushed his finger slowly, agonizingly slowly into his hole. He felt Thor lean up and grab something from the nightstand. The jar, his mind supplied, and he heard Thor open the lid. For a second, the finger was gone, and he whimpered. There was no holding it back at this point. But it was short-lived, as the finger returned, this time with another, covered in a surprisingly warm gel. Steve was gasping once more as Thor worked his fingers in, spreading him open, preparing him. He brushed something within Steve, and Steve shouted out, petering out into a groan. He did not let go of the pillow. He let out a shuddering breath, relaxing his muscles, as they ached and quivered under his skin.

“Good. Are you ready?”

Steve nodded, eyes still closed, braced on the bed, holding the pillow. He felt Thor shift, taking off his pants. Then he felt the blunt head of Thor's member at his opening. It was huge, a great pressure against him, and Steve wondered briefly at the possibility that Thor might not fit. He did not care. Steve bared down and felt his body open up to Thor, the slick, hot pressure building up as he slowly made his way in, inch by inch.

Steve shuddered when Thor was finally in. His head flung back, and a deep, wanton moan fell from his mouth, and Thor leaned and ate the last vestiges of of the sound before swallowing Steve’s mouth in a searing kiss. They were so still for just a moment, but Steve was certain his skin was on fire everywhere it connected with Thor. Chest to chest, hands on his arms, mouth on mouth, legs brushing against legs, where Thor was connected to him, inside of him. It was hot and constant and Steve was sure there were lightning burns left where they met, fractal, lichtenberg scars snaking along his skin, all leading down to his crotch, his swollen member, his very core.

Thor started to move, and he brushed up against Steve’s prostate with each thrust and it was too much. He cried out, feeling hot tears leak from his eyes as Thor continued to move. He did not let go of the pillow. He gasped as Thor bit at his neck, never ceasing his long, steady thrusts. He was simultaneously going too fast and too damned slow. Steve pushed back, trying to take more of Thor in him, and then jerked up trying to get more friction on his cock. His member just barely brushed the skin of Thor’s abdomen, and he cried out at the whisper of possible release.

“You could have just asked,” Thor said into his neck.

Thor’s hand found his member, and began to stroke it slowly, so damned slowly. Slower than he was thrusting into Steve, and it was maddening.

“God, please,” the words tumbled out of Steve’s mouth, half whisper, half breath.

“Hush now, just a little bit more.”

“Please, please, please.” He could not suck in oxygen anymore. Each breath he took was superficial, surface-level gasping.

“Almost there, and you haven’t moved your hands. You’re doing so well.”

At the mention of his hands, Steve remembered he had hands and his broken arm, and that they were shaking above his head with the effort not to move, not to touch himself or Thor.

“Are you ready, Steven?”

In a far off world, Steve thought he may have nodded.

Thor’s thrusts became faster, pressing his prostate at each turn, and Thor’s hand on his cock sped up as well. One thrust, two, three—

“Come for me,” Thor whispered in his ear.

And he did. White light flashed beyond his eyelids, and his body tensed up under Thor. He felt the god coming inside of him. He felt the spray of his own cum on his abdomen, hot splatters on his skin. It was a miracle, it was a release, it was oxygen. Steve sucked in a breath and finally felt like his lungs would take it.

He heard Thor murmuring in his ear, whispering, shushing him, and realized he was whimpering against the god and still shaking, still falling apart, still on this earth, this bed.

“You can move your hands now.”

Easier said than done. He tried to relax his arms and they hurt so much from the strain of the nights activities. His muscles screamed against his bones, as he tried to bring his arms to the side of the bed and they fell to his side, limp and quivering. Thor rubbed his hands up and down Steve’s biceps, hands warm and big against his skin. He pulled out of Steve then, and Steve gasped once more at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

“I’ll be right back,” Thor said, stepping off of the bed. The air was suddenly cold against Steve’s skin, and he shivered. It was seeping into his skin, the ice, the cold water, the Potomac River. But then Thor was back, a warm, wet washcloth in hand, cleaning Steve’s skin, kneeling close enough that Steve could feel his body heat. Thor tossed the washcloth aside when he finished, and pulled the covers around Steve and lay down next to him, draping a thick arm over Steve's stomach. Steve lay on the bed, eyes blown wide, staring up at the ceiling, still catching his breath. Thor’s body was an inferno next to him, hotter than hell, bigger than the sky.

“JARVIS, dim the lights.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s your arm?” Thor asked in the dark.

“I’ll be healed by morning.”

“I apologize for that.”

“Don’t. It’s— it needed to be done.” He was about to say that it was fine, but it wasn’t. None of it was really fine. He was satiated, his heart was beating steady against his ribs, his lungs were filling with oxygen. He was warm. But it was not fine. They were silent for a moment. Steve was still lost in his thoughts, grounded only by the heavy arm holding him down, and the thick body at his side.

“These thoughts that plague your mind,” Thor began. “They are not worth acknowledging. You will find your friend. This is the truth. Everything else is haze, and it is the haze that makes it hard to see ahead of you. It is the haze that made you lose your focus.”

“Is that what it was?” Steve asked ruefully. Thor made it sound so simple.


Thor leaned up on his elbow to look down at Steve. He ran a hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve tried not to think back to mere moments ago when Thor was holding him by the hair, stilling him in his manic rage. He closed his eyes and felt himself leaning into Thor’s warm hand, letting out a low breath. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he murmured.

“You run when you should rest, you fight when there is no more fight left in you. I’ve been gone for months and I could see it in your shoulders when I stepped out onto the balcony.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“I know heartbreak, Steven.”

Steve opened his eyes then, looking up at Thor. He reached out, and cupped Thor’s face mirroring the god above him. He could barely make out his features in the dark room now, but still found himself trying to rub away the pain from his skin with his thumb.

Thor bent down and placed his lips on the side of Steve’s mouth, gentle, warm, protective.

“Will you sleep with me here tonight?”

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds fine.”

Thor pulled the covers tighter over the two of them and pressed himself even closer to Steve. The thoughts that had been churning around in Steve’s mind were slowly starting to still, as sleep began to overtake him. He pulled Thor closer to him, and they breathed in time together. They were wounded fighters, tired, finding unexpected solace in each other.

And it was fine. And Steve was warm.

To be continued.