Thor: Jesus, Luna.
Another pause.
Thor: I’m…getting hard.
Heat blooms low in my stomach.
Luna: Just from a leg? I guess it really doesn’t take much with you.
Thor: You have no idea what that picture is doing to me.
Luna: Then show me.
There’s a beat. No typing. I wonder if I pushed too far.
Thor: You sure? I told you, I’m not a snap-and-send kinda guy.
Luna: I’m not a snap-and-send kind of girl. But here we are.
Another pause.
Thor: Fuck, Luna… this is bad. But I want to. I think I’ve got a little exhibitionist in me. I’ll show you. But first, I have a question if you’ll indulge me.
Luna: Ask anything.
Thor: After that night at the club… did you fantasize about me?
Luna: Every night since. Did you think about me?
Thor: Every night. What did you imagine?
Luna: Your lips on my neck… whispering the filthy things you’d do to me. Your hand between my thighs. Would you say really bad things, Thor?
My hand slides between my legs, aching.
Thor: Is your hand there now, Luna?
Luna: Mmm…
Psychic. The man is psychic.
Thor: You thinking about my lips… or my cock?
Luna: Your cock. How full you’d make me feel…
Thor: You mean this? I wonder how you’d feel riding it…and I’m only sending this because you asked so damn sweetly.
The photo comes through, and this time, I actually gasp.
It’s him. Laying back now, boxers gone. His hand is gripping the base of his cock — thick, hard, long enough to make my mouth go dry and every thought in my head vanish. His abs tighten in the shot, the muscles low on his hips flexed. He’s fully, gloriously hard. And the angle? Strategic. Wicked.
Luna: Oh… my… God.
Thor: Is that a good reaction or a bad one?
Luna: That’s a ‘please excuse me while I melt into my bathwater’ reaction.
Thor: I told you… you’re doing things to me, Luna.
