In spite of the virtual frenzy of passionate love making he had worked himself into, he could not help but stop, how ever very briefly he did to note the strength with which she grabbed at his arms. He had never known or experienced such a powerful hold from his wife before, and as much actual thought crept into his mind he realized she seemed almost like another woman entirely to him. As different as he must have seemed to her back at the fashion show.
She was moaning, calling his name, digging her fingers into his forearms as her legs grew taut around his waist. He knew that she did not want him to hold back anymore, but he was too timid, even in the state they were in to push any harder. His hands had slain giants after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was seriously injure Sif in any way.
Of course, that did not mean he was perfectly gentle, either.
Eventually the pounding on the door subsided as those in the hall way realized the futility of their efforts. Another good hour, or maybe more went by before Thor finished with Sif. As with last night, he was not content with just his own pleasure, he wanted to make the most of the experience for the both of them. By the end he lay worn out in a small bath, holding her against his chest in the aftermath. His stomach rumbled with the appetite he had worked up, but he chose not to disturb Sif immediately, as she had drifted off on his shoulder.