Stephen never minded when Loki marked him up. He wore every bruise like a badge of honor, happy to have been branded by his lover. And right now, he was pressing his weight into those nails, encouraging Loki to cut into him. The brief, sharp sting of broken skin would send rush to his brain, his vocal cords giving away how much he enjoyed it.
It hadn't even dawned on him how selfish he was being until Loki guided a hand to his erection; an action that ever so slightly grounded him. He wouldn't stop. He was far too close to stop. But he would slow his pace just enough to share his attention, his thumb gliding up Loki's cock.
One hand caressed Loki, the other came to rest upon the flat of the pool table. Those hazel eyes squeezed shut as he came, Loki's name loud on his lips. The hand that gripped the table sparked, etching an imprint upon the fabric; because Stephen would be damned if they didn't leave behind some sort of incriminating evidence.
Stephen had found release, but since Loki hadn't, he wouldn't move. His hand would keep going, hellbent on making that mess upon the table worse.