“Fuck yes.” Good sex emptied his mind, kept him from thinking anything more coherent than that. Pain did something similar, and adding a little pain - yanking his hair, biting at a cut - to what had already been great sex ensured Loki barely realized he was actually speaking words and not just nonsense need-sounds.

He couldn’t reach Valkyrie with his mouth anymore, so he let his hands move almost in sync with their rough rhythm. He stroked (or scraped, if his nails happened to hit) every sensitive spot he’d found on her body, trying to drive her further, push her over the edge.