Work Text:
Miguel O’hara is a liar.
“Too deep.” He would slur as your hips would press flat against his rounded ass, his hand blindly scrabbling to try and push you away, but your hand pulls Miguel’s arm behind his back.
You knew him well. Too well. You knew the limits of his body, you knew how much he could take. You knew how to make his toned back arch, you knew how to make him sing for you.
“You can take it.” You snarl and drive into him hard, listening to how he cried out and pushed his back into your thrusts.
Miguel was as pretty as a picture, his back arched hard to receive you. The hand that wasn’t pinned behind his back was ripping at the pillow beneath his head, struggling with the sensation. His pretty red eyes were rolled back behind half lidded eyes as drool escaped his mouth that was gaped open.
You adjust your position so each thrust drove down, the thick mass inside of him now hitting his prostate, forcing a sob and a half choked scream from his throat.
Miguel was writhing under you like he grabbed a live wire, but you were utterly entranced by how he was utterly helpless to the sensations you ministered upon his form.
“I can’t!” He sobbed. He can.
You double your efforts, your free hand holding his hip and pulling him back into your thrusts as your forehead pressed against the space between his shoulder blades, ears filled with his brainless babbling.
You knew he needed this. You felt how he melted under you, his mind unable to think of the stress that came with his work and responsibilities. You had him where you needed him; utterly mindless and no longer as consumed with his position of protecting the multiverse from total and utter collapse.
He just needed a little more. You free your grip from his wrist to wrap around his weeping, throbbing cock, a broken, raspy cry escaping his kiss swollen lips.
Miguel’s upper body collapsed, a hoarse scream escaping him as his body seized up, his thick cock pulsing with each rope of cum, joining the mess under him on the bed sheets.
You watch as he goes limp and lax under you, chest heaving shuddering breaths. You’ve wrung two climaxes from him, but you were yet to achieve the results you desired.
You allowed a small reprieve before you snapped your hips into him, a punched out gasp escaping him.
“I can’t come anymore!” He sobbed, his claws gouging into the pillow that was growing increasingly wet with his drool and tears.
But he was a liar. He knew it and you knew it.
“You will.”