Flatmate: Prepare yourself… for Fifty Shades of Green.
Me: I’m not calling it that.
[WARNING: smut may contain traces of plot.]
Your Darcy/Loki smutfic prompt: "Darcy asks Loki to mindcontrol her." Please don't include: scat/watersports. Post your fic by next Monday and send me a link so I can compile a list. If you can't make that date, send me a note asap and we'll sort something out! Otherwise, have a great time and don't hesitate to contact me with any questions/concerns. :)
-- For Nicole --
Darcy Lewis sat with one leg crossed and her foot tapping to the beat of her iPod. Her eyes darted about behind oversized sunglasses, trying to identify her contact amongst the drifting crowd of park-dwellers. She pulled out a compact mirror from an old makeup bag and subtly checked the reflection for people behind her. She wished that her iPod came with a camera. Being a super-spy was a piece of cake, really, and SHIELD could shove it for taking Erik and Jane away and leaving her behind.
SHIELD had no idea what a big mistake they had made, overlooking the pol-sci major.
"Jesus!" Darcy jumped out of the park bench and spun around, clutching at her heart, "Oh my GOD, Erik, you almost gave me a heart attack... what happened to you?" The beginnings of a dirty beard and the crooked aviators made Darcy want to give him all her spare change and point him in the direction of the nearest soup kitchen.
Her old supervisor laughed softly, looking down at his stained and wrinkled clothing, "That's what being on the run from SHIELD does to you, I suppose. Look, Darcy… we don’t have much time. A-are you sure you weren't being followed?"
"Weren't followed?” the student parroted, “I have been paying in cash since I left Virginia. I bought plane tickets through my brother’s weed dealer and I have been sleeping on the couches of people that I found through Bing. Bing. There is absolutely no way that SHIELD could trace me back to you," Darcy insisted loudly.
"Good! Good, good, good," Erik looked around nervously, "I think we should get back to my place before we're spotted out in the open."
Darcy shrugged lightly, "It won’t happen. There aren't any CCTV cameras for at least a block in every direction, and somebody's been setting up cellphone jammers around the park, too," she smirked and waggled her eyebrows.
Erik laughed, "I forgot how good you were with computers! We could really use someone with your skills in the base. Come on, we shouldn't keep them waiting."
"Them?" Darcy frowned, "I thought it was just you."
The scientist paused, looking unsure for a moment. He stuttered absently as he tried to coax a believable answer out of his mind. Darcy interrupted him in anger, "How many people is SHIELD trying to kill off, anyway? First you, now a whole bunch of 'them'? Is that how the government lets these people do business? They let the real scientists do all the work, and then try to have them assassinated as soon as they discover something that could actually change the world? What do they think this is, the Cold War? That is so auto-crap-tic."
"I know, but it's okay! We all got away safely, and we got Him to safety, too!" Erik beamed widely.
"Got who to safety?"
Erik gestured in pacification, "I will introduce you to Him, don't worry."
Darcy felt an annoying bubble of worry start to form in the back of her mind, but she pushed it aside, "Dude, when was the last time you had a shower? Are there showers where you live?" she wrinkled her nose and swapped her sunglasses for her normal glasses, "Do toothbrushes exist where you live?"
"Erik, you live in the sewers," Darcy remarked flatly, stumbling over the uneven ground as she followed her college mentor.
"I didn't choose the location; you can thank the Hawk for that. You'd think a bird would choose a better place to build his nest!" he shouted down the corridor.
Darcy stopped walking; shining the light of her iPod at Erik's turned back, "Well that made absolutely no sense." The worry-bubble was growing steadily more intrusive as they climbed further underground. The corridors were lined with old brickwork and archways, like the romantic ruins of abandoned subway stations. She half-expected to see crocodiles and other creatures of urban legend lurking around the corner.
Ahead of her, Erik Selvig tripped on a loose piece of concrete, causing him to stumble and miss a step. For a second, Darcy swore that she heard a third set of echoing footsteps in the tunnel. The thought sent chills through her veins, "Erik?"
"Just a bit further, Darcy," he called back, his eyes alight with... okay, his eyes shouldn't be glowing like that. When had he taken off his aviators? His eyes had looked a bit bluer than they should have been when they were above-ground, but to actually be glowing in the dark...
Darcy reached for her taser. The second her hand slipped into her jacket pocket, she felt steel bars trap her forearms and twist them behind her back. Okay, not steel bars, man-hands. Darcy wriggled and screeched a slew of profanities, but only succeeded in hurting herself against the unyielding hold. She looked down at the ground as a black leather boot stamped the life out of her fallen taser, which shattered with a dying spark of electricity. Darcy swallowed thickly at the sight.
“Shh-h-h,” a voice whispered near her ear. The normal warmth of the person’s breath was absent, a cold draft caressing Darcy’s neck as the person spoke. The gentle hushing made her muscles tighten in fear. She didn’t want to look behind her. She couldn’t.
“Erik!” Darcy’s voice hitched. She cleared her throat angrily, “Erik, what the fuck is going on?”
Erik’s face stretched into a joyful grin, “Hey! We were just coming to see you. I found Darcy! Now all we need is Jane, and Darcy can tell us where she is!” Darcy felt her stomach drop sickeningly.
“Can she now?” the voice behind her spoke, smooth and dangerous enough to set Darcy on edge, “I do hope she can… I would hate for agent Barton to have to make a mess of her.” Darcy shivered and only imagined that she heard a chuckle from behind her. She turned her head as much as she could to get a look at her assailant, but the stranger twisted her arm lightly in warning before she saw much more than pale skin and black hair.
“The hawk?” Selvig’s face screwed up, “There’s no need to involve him. All we have to do is ask her.”
“Erik?” her voice sounded distant and lame, even to her. Memories slipped past her mind’s eye, unwarranted. Staying up late with Jane in the campervan, Erik telling them to be careful when they went out at night and to always travel in pairs, ‘The world is an unsavoury place, girls; full of unsavoury characters. Make sure you have each other’s back.’
“Ah, where are my manners!” Erik clapped his hands together, “Darcy, this is Loki—of Asgard.”
Darcy’s eyes went round behind her skewed glasses. Oh no. Oh… let it be a Bond villain, a mob boss, even a Republican senator, anyone but the guy who levelled Puente Antiguo. Loki, Norse God of mischief and lies and actual space-alien. Loki from the sagas and mythology books and Wikipedia articles on those long nights of wide-eyed research… “The Loki?” Darcy questioned anxiously. The Asgardian laughed.
“Ooh, I think I like this one,” the faintly-British voice purred, “I might just change my mind and let you keep her. Would you like that?” his last murmur was addressed to her rather than Erik. She felt cold spreading over the back of her head and one of his hands let go to tug at a lock of her hair.
“I told you she’d be useful,” Selvig replied proudly, “She’s got a sharp mind for computers and knows more programming languages than anyone in that room.”
A figure dressed in ornate green and leather robes materialised between them with a radiant glow, his pale face tilted back in a show of superiority. A wicked-looking wizard’s staff-spear was clutched in one hand, glowing with the same unnatural light as Erik’s eyes. Blue-green eyes were fever-bright and focused so intently on her own that Darcy felt like cornered prey, but also strangely empowered. Darcy’s brow furrowed in confusion at the feeling that the stranger’s smirk stirred within her. He was definitely dressed like one of Thor’s friends. She opened her mouth to ask who he was; seriously, how many of these attractive people have fallen from the sky in the last year?
“So, Darcy of Midgard, where is Jane?” the stranger’s voice was identical to the still-present figure behind her. Darcy forgot the question instantly and tried to look behind herself again at her captor. He twisted her arm before she could look, and the assistant’s mind suddenly clicked to the fact that she was looking at Loki, the same Loki that was restraining her messing with her hair. So he really is a magic-science-space guy. Weird. He didn’t look at all as Darcy imagined Thor’s little brother would. Gone were the hunky muscles and beach-boy tan. This spaceman was lithe, pale, and so very-very tall.
“Answer me!” the Loki before her yelled.
Darcy instinctively jumped backwards into the body holding hers before her brain could tell her how counter-intuitive that was, “Dude, I don’t know!”
Loki’s eyes narrowed.
“Darcy,” Erik huffed in exasperation, “You’ve got to know, just tell us!”
“No, seriously! I don’t know!” the student insisted, “She left on the same day that you said SHIELD was trying to kill you! Damn it, Erik, was that part even true?”
“Left where? Where did she go?” her old mentor questioned her relentlessly. Loki loomed before her and behind her; the restraining hands cold and unyielding.
“I don’t know! She might have said the name, I wasn’t listening! I never looked!” Darcy squeezed her eyes shut, ducking her head behind a curtain of brown curls, “It was a scholarship. It didn’t matter where she was going, she was just going far away and leaving me behind and she wasn’t coming back. I can’t tell you where she went, I don’t know!” she glared at Erik through her hair.
“Poor, poor Darcy,” Loki murmured, “What use are you to us now?”
Darcy struggled against his grip, “What the fuck did you do to Erik?”
The projected Loki’s expression shifted to one of imploring honesty, “I have simply shown him the truth.” He watched her eyes flicker between the sceptre and Erik. He raised his eyebrows in expectation.
“You wiped his brain!”
“I have not,” Loki replied calmly, “Your Erik Selvig has not been changed, Darcy, or corrupted. He has simply been… expanded.”
“Darcy, I’m fine!” Erik beamed, “I have learned so much, seen so much of the universe. It’s so beautiful, and I want Jane to see it, too! Together we could unlock the key to exploring the stars! Wouldn’t you want that?”
Darcy chewed her lower lip, her gaze drifting again to the glowing staff, not the beautiful face of a man who’d destroyed towns and probably even whole worlds before and was still fiddling with her goddamn hair. Okay, focus, so it isn’t Body-Snatchers, “And you’re using that.”
“Yes…” Loki sounded simultaneously encouraging and condescending. Darcy tried very hard to ignore the parts of her that were responding positively to the velvety quality of his voice and his ridiculously good cheekbones. Well, Wikipedia did say he was ‘pleasing and handsome’. Citation definitely not needed. Jesus, get a grip Darcy! This guy is a massive dick. Remember laser-face.
“Mind control,” she blurted, feeling heat creep up her neck to colour her cheeks.
“Control…” the Asgardian answered slightly breathlessly, “To provide freedom.”
Lectures on Spinoza and Hume churned in Darcy’s mind; philosophies of free-will and benevolent dictatorships and theoretical harmonic symbiosis. She could see it, what he was trying to talk about, but the intermittent threatening of her life did not exactly scream ‘benevolent’. His piercing eyes were imploring, for reasons her brain couldn’t figure out. She already understood. It was freedom from responsibility. There’s just no getting past the fact that he’s pretty fucking crazy.
She chanced a peek at Erik, who looked both worried and sad. Well I’m not fucking dying.
“Can you…” her voice trailed off. Loki frowned in inquiry. Darcy swallowed, “Can you use it on me?”
Loki’s expression did not change, “What?”
Darcy rolled her eyes, “You’re going to make this embarrassing, aren’t you? Look, I… could be useful. Erik’s right, I’m good with computers, and I can code, and—”
“You want this,” Loki whispered. His brilliant eyes were locked onto her face with more intensity than she thought possible. He strode towards her. The hand holding her arms disappeared as the real Loki walked around her and into the image of the other, fusing seamlessly. The proximity of the sceptre allowed Darcy to see the swirling patterns of light in the glowing gem, and the sharp threat of the tapered blades surrounding it. Loki was staring at her with equal fascination, as if seeing her for the first time, his open mouth reminding her of a hypnotised snake. Oh, I’m in deep shit.
Darcy’s mouth went dry under the God’s assessment. Did he think she was presumptuous for wanting to be in his mind-control club? Was it because she was just the worthless assistant? Left behind by Erik and SHIELD and Jane; “I can help.” Don’t kill me. She swallowed, "People follow orders so they don't have to think, so they don't have to feel guilt. If you mind-controlled me… I'd do anything, but it wouldn't be my fault, right? And you wouldn't have to threaten me.”
Loki straightened and let out a breath. Darcy only imagined that it shook slightly, or that his face was suddenly pallid and glistening, showing dark shadows under his eyes. He looked down his nose at her, “I suppose… we should discuss negotiations… inside.” He turned sharply and strode ahead of the two mortals, beckoning them to follow.
“Okay,” Darcy felt a rush of adrenalin. Relief? Not quite. Excitement? Well, she was walking straight into the biggest mess she’d ever gotten herself into. Norse Gods. Again. But worse. At least she was still alive. She would never admit it to Erik or Jane or anyone else, but part of her wanted to chase Loki all the way down the rabbit hole. You dumb, horny fool, she chastised herself, you should be running in the opposite direction. He’d probably catch you before you get outside, yeah, and then he’d probably kill you, yeah, but who walks towards danger? There’s no guarantee that he’ll let you live if you do as he says.
Jane was right about you and bad boys.
They weaved their way through crumbling tunnels, entering a great hive of military and scientific activity. The various personnel all stared at her as they passed; some with eyes bright-blue and empty, others not so. Darcy’s feet followed Loki and Selvig without thinking, too overwhelmed by the surroundings. Walls made of plastic, weapons caches littered everywhere, stainless steel machines of science… it was a proper evil lair. I hope SHIELD is ready for this.
Loki grabbed her upper arm abruptly and pulled her down another winding corridor as Selvig walked away to join the other scientists. He didn’t even look back to see her. Oh God, Oh God. Darcy was almost tripping over her feet to keep up with the Norse deity’s long, uneven gait. He turned them suddenly into a vacant room and let go of her arm to shut the door behind them. He stilled with his back to her. Darcy backpedalled to regain some of her personal space and looked around.
The room they were standing in was clean and simply-furnished; bright fluorescent bulbs wired across the ceiling driving away the feeling of being deep underground. The surprisingly lush-looking bed along one of the walls indicated just who used this room and why. Green seemed to be a running theme, here.
“Say that you want it again,” Loki’s voice brought Darcy back to reality. He stalked towards her with the fluid grace of a panther, terrifying the assistant into stillness. She had to crane her neck backwards to maintain eye-contact as he moved closer; he could probably hear her pounding heart rate from where he stood.
“I… want it?” Darcy replied dumbly, her brain stalling at the proximity.
Loki looked away from her to idly turn his staff in the fluorescent light; “Your lack of conviction is quite disappointing, Darcy of Midgard. Do you really think that I would bestow this great gift on simply anyone at all? Try again.”
“I’m a really huge fan and I want to join your minion club,” she deadpanned before she could stop herself. The demi-God looked angry for a moment, then sneered in disgust and turned to leave. Darcy’s gut clenched suddenly at the thought of losing his interest.
“I want to help,” she all but shouted. Loki’s pause spurred her on, talking quickly, “I want to be useful, I want… I want to have a purpose. I know I can be useful to someone, and I’m sick of being left behind; I can’t be left behind again,” Darcy explained emphatically.
“You want to be given purpose,” Loki agreed in murmur, turning back ever so slightly towards her.
“I just want to do a good job,” Darcy babbled, “And it wouldn’t be my fault—if I did anything bad,” she swallowed, trembling under Loki’s hungry stare, “It’d just be you.”
Darcy suddenly had a terrible moment of inspiration. Her life was on the line, so it was worth a shot, really. She thought of the film Labyrinth and licked her lips, “I want you to rule me.” She could tell by the slight widening of his eyes, the pause in his breath. This guy wasn’t just hell-bent on taking over the world with all his brainwashed minions; he damn well had a kink for it. Great, you’ve got his attention. Now what, genius-brain?
Before she could react, the world snapped backwards sharply and Darcy landed on her back with the soft bounce of mattress interrupted by Loki pinning her shoulder to the bed, hard. Surprisingly, her glasses stayed in place.
“Beg for it,” Loki spat, crouched over her like a Godly incubus.
“Huh?” Darcy’s voice came out high and wavering; her body flushing alternatingly cold and hot with adrenalin and arousal. The sudden thought of all those things that he could make her to do for him. She was terrified that he wouldn’t even need the mind-control; that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself, or want to. She was hyper-aware of every place that he was touching.
Loki was panting, the mad gleam present in his eye and his mouth hanging open to taste the air. He clenched his teeth and hissed, “I want you to beg for purpose, for freedom from yourself, for identity.”
Darcy squeaked out a ‘please’, her chest heaving with short breaths. Loki’s grin widened impossibly as he fed off her panic, stroking the side of her flushed face. He drew his long fingers past her chin and grazed the length of her pale neck, his thumb pressing lightly on her windpipe as he did so, drinking in her reactions.
“Beg properly… or I won’t let you have it.”
“Please—please, please, God, I want a purpose, I want all that. I-I want a job, I want to be good, I want to be yours,” she babbled. She gasped against the pressure of his thumb as the God dropped his head to press his mouth against her ear.
“What would you do for me?” his words felt colder than his hands.
“A-anything.” Because I’d be under mind-control, duh.
Loki nuzzled her dark brown hair, drunk off the scent of her fear and musk. It was how all mortals should smell. Terrified and awed by his greatness despite themselves. He could torment her like this for hours, until the Chitauri came. Ah, but for the bindings of duty. He could always indulge the monster at a later time, of course, “Who do you belong to?” he sighed against her ear.
“You,” her answer was too simple, it couldn’t be enough. Loki drew away from her like poison from a wound, sitting back on his heels with one knee either side of Darcy’s hips to prevent her from moving. He drew the sceptre from where he’d laid it on the bed, testing its weight in his hand. Darcy felt her life balance on a knife-edge as the God looked down at her in contemplation. The threat of his dismissal made her mouth open in voiceless protest.
The look was enough. Loki’s face broke into a grin, and he raised the sceptre, “Good girl.”
Darcy jolted in panic when the spearhead was pressed against her breastbone, visions of Loki slicing her open and laughing at her humiliation flashed through her mind a split second before her grip on reality was torn.
The world went black and soundless. Darcy arched her back in open-mouthed terror and felt a pinch of pain where the blade tip touched her. Her mind was pulled like taffy. Reason and logic came and went in a chaos of emotion and internal screaming that she could feel being slowly smothered by a cool, blue light. The light showed her images, like fragments from a dream forgotten after waking. Everything was bright cerulean. Fandral, Sif, Hogun and Volstagg kneeling before her… no, she was Loki. That made sense. Loki was King… of Asgard. Of everything, and that felt so right. She could see herself as him in mirrored surfaces. He was so handsome and shiny, and so full of purpose. The rightful King of Asgard. Other visions swam around her mind as if they’d always been there, and she was sure that she knew Loki.
Darcy breathed out slowly, every muscle relaxed and pliant. Her eyes finally focused and she saw Loki hovering above her again, fixated on her reaction. She smiled openly to show him that she was alright. He was pleased. Darcy could have laughed with happiness.
“Isn’t this better?” Loki asked her in a hushed tone, watching the bright swirls of blue twisting over the mortal woman’s natural eye colour.
“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. She did not understand the question, quite obviously, but smiled adoringly all the same.
Loki smirked, “And what, pray tell, is your grand purpose now?”
“Whatever you tell me it is.”
Loki’s brows dropped, “What was the purpose given to you by the tesseract?”
“It… didn’t give me one.”
“You are frustrating even in servitude.”
“I’m not trying to be frustrating!” Darcy insisted.
“What did the tesseract show you? Knowledge? A target? A weakness? A vision? Tell me,” the God demanded, glaring.
“You,” Darcy shrugged, “It just showed me you.”
“And what was I doing?”
“You were King of Asgard, like you’re supposed to be,” the mortal answered honestly.
Loki’s thin mouth twisted into a coy smile despite himself, “Really?”
Darcy nodded, still lying on her back beneath him, “You had your helmet with the big horns and that big staffy-thing gunganeer.”
“Gunganir,” he corrected her. He paused to consider this, the vision of hers from the heart of the tesseract. Loki gave a small laugh, “Well, Darcy of Midgard, let us hope that you are blessed with the gift of prophesy.”
Darcy’s face lit up with satisfaction, “You looked amazing, with your armour on.”
Loki inclined his head, “Would you like to see?”
The enthusiasm of the young thrall’s nod was most pleasing. He drew his armour about him from the hidden folds of space. It shimmered with golden light as the garment melded onto its owner; the mortal beneath him practically cooing in awe. She reached up unabashedly to run her fingers over the smooth texture of the gold pauldron. Loki’s eyebrows rose; it was quite an improper action, especially with her adoration worn so openly on her flushed face. Her touch was like worship. He rather liked improper.
Darcy smoothed her hand over the beginnings of Loki’s green cape; it was softer than she thought it would be. No surprises there, these people had space travel when we were still eating mammoths, of course they’d be able to make the best capes in the universe. She was glad that Loki didn’t seem to mind her curious poking and prodding of his armour, if anything he was leaning closer to allow her better access. She raised her face to look at the wicked horns when she caught his half-lidded expression. Oh. Did he want to kiss her? She couldn’t tell exactly, but decided to wet her lips to accommodate him just in case.
Loki’s eyes widened at the sight of the pink tongue poking out between the mortal’s full lips. His face crashed onto hers to chase the inviting tongue back into her mouth. His arms curled around her waist and shoulders as he pressed the line of his body into hers. His tongue slid inside the wet flesh of her mouth and he felt her twitch against him as their teeth clacked under the force of his kiss. She felt so warm, so impossibly soft, her delightful frame positively sinful with curves.
Woah. Pent up sexual tension, much? Darcy scrambled for purchase against Loki’s armour, trying to find something to hold to while riding the high of sensations that kissing a God was giving her. So this was what purpose feels like. She moved one hand to tangle in his hair, rubbing the pad of her fingers in small circles over the soft spot just behind his ear, just as the blue memory in her mind showed how he liked it. She felt his firm hand smooth up the length of her neck, wrapping around her jaw to hold her mouth still for him.
His other hand was pushing up her knitted sweater, exposing her back to the chill of the room as his tongue mated with hers. Long, cold fingers brushed against her spine and Darcy gasped. Loki jerked away at the sound, leaning his head far back to put enough distance between them.
He drew in a few measured breaths. His face was carefully blank, "Is this what you intended to happen?"
"No, but I was kinda hoping that it would,” Darcy smiled honestly, surprised at her own answer.
Loki’s eyebrows rose before he grinned cruelly, “Is that so? Did you desire me, Darcy of Midgard?”
“Yeah. You’re gorgeous,” she couldn’t lie to him. It felt so freeing, she didn’t have to hate him, to think of all the people he hurt and what he did to Erik. She was free to admire him, unconditionally.
Loki shifted slightly, “Remember who you’re talking to.”
“You’re gorgeous, sire,” the mortal answered automatically.
“Sire?” his grin showed too many teeth, “How interesting…” Darcy felt a tide of embarrassment at the forgotten implications of the word. The God seemed pleased enough, moving over her like a snake, “Did it torment you, Darcy, having feelings of desire for such a hated monster?”
“Yes—Sire.” Damn, was it ever a torment. He was just so pretty and his voice just did things. Fuck. She could see images in her mind, bright blue of Loki and a woman with black hair riding him and gasping at his encouragements. Ooh boy. This is totally happening right now.
“Hm. Tell me, how does it feel to be working against your precious heroes?” he laughed, “Against your entire planet. Tell me.”
She tried to mimic his facial expression, “I don’t care, I do what you want,” she shrugged happily, “If you want the world to burn, I’ll pour gasoline on it.” Pictures of her parents and Jane appeared briefly in her mind and were smothered. She smiled again.
Tormenting her was definitely out of the question, now. Loki could only catch the faintest traces of her previous fear when he breathed in, a reminder of how he had to cut this activity short to fulfil his own plans. Unfortunate, “I suppose we should put you to work, then.” Loki sat up, deftly pulling the mortal upright with him before dismounting the bed.
“I thought we were going to fuck,” Darcy frowned from her seat.
The bluntness of her statement floored the God for a moment. He stared at her, expressionless.
That talking-before-thinking thing, Darcy? Still happening.
Loki scowled in defence, “That was not the reason I—”
“No, it’s fine. Sire,” Darcy smiled innocently, “It’s just that you were on top of me for a really long time and your sceptre was kinda digging into my stomach.”
Loki gave her a questioning frown, motioning to the sceptre in his hand. Darcy shook her head slowly and glanced at his crotch then back to his face pointedly. He understood. She nodded.
The God turned his gaze to the door of the bedroom. Behind it, his followers worked tirelessly on building a doorway for the Chitauri, as he should be doing. He tested the pull of the tesseract, and found it strangely… accommodating. He wouldn’t be needed for a while. Selvig could be trusted to continue with the design of the portal-creator by himself. Loki looked back at his alluring little thrall, “Do you wish to?”
Loki waved a gesture at the door and the lock slid itself closed. Darcy didn’t mind the privacy. She would not have minded, either, if he had wanted to take her in front of his entire compliment of devotees. Or the world. Her eyes tracked him sauntering over to a plush, gold armchair that Darcy swore was not there five seconds ago, the God’s face twitching with a suppressed smirk. His golden armour glowed brightly and returned to the hidden places between worlds, leaving him dressed as he was before, in black leather and green.
He motioned her to him as he sat, legs angled wide apart, on the throne-like chair, “Come. Undress me.” Darcy almost fell trying to get off the bed fast enough.
She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and bracing her knees against the back of the large armchair as the blue memories in her mind had shown her. Loki guided her hands to the first of many fastenings to be taken apart, allowing her to take over when she understood how to.
This mortal had surprisingly nimble fingers, and fast learned how to undo the various straps and buttons of his full regalia. She had none of the clinical, impersonal efficiency of the palace hands that had helped to dress Loki and Thor on other occasions. Darcy was a completely different creature, feeling every hook and buckle as she rendered him undone, exploring the layers of his clothing with unrestrained wonder. Loki was almost preening under the attention, purposefully allowing her to struggle with his chest plate for several moments before showing her how it was taken off. He liked it when she tugged.
Every now and then she would absently rock her hips against his, and bite her lip. Loki watched as Darcy lightly ground herself upon him. She lost her concentration at one point and shuddered, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she let the friction overwhelm her.
“Darcy…” he called softly, bringing her back to the present. Her cheeks were red and her glowing irises blown wide with arousal. She was gorgeous. He cupped a hand around the back of her neck and drew her face down to his, kissing her softly.
Darcy moaned into the kiss, pressing herself down harder on the solid bulge. He ran his tongue across her lower lip and she opened for him, sliding her tongue against his and scrunching her hands into fists of his grey undershirt. She felt his fingers dipping into the waistband of her pants and she hurriedly unbuttoned the fly for him. Two fingers like living ice slid through her short curls and touched her slick folds. Darcy’s hips jerked against them, her body on fire with the contact. Loki nicked lightly at her lip as he swirled his fingers around her sex once before drawing a wet trail up to her navel and withdrawing his hand, “Finish your task,” he whispered huskily.
Darcy reached forward with shaky hands to tug the undershirt out of the complicated mess of his remaining armour. Loki leaned forward slightly to allow her to tug the garment over his head, and she made a face of amazement at the lithe musculature of his pale torso. Damn. Yes. The God drew his arms from the fabric and crushed her against him before she could start touching all over his chest. His skimmed his hands under the hem of her shirt and upwards, drawing in her radiant heat and leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Darcy caught the cue and tugged off her jumper and tshirt in one movement to allow for skin-to-skin contact.
“By Valhalla,” Loki whispered, eyes round. How had she been keeping such glorious breasts hidden beneath her Midgardian dressings? Darcy puffed her chest out proudly, a cat-like smile growing on her face at his reaction. Loki’s hands were drawn by seiðr to the tailored undergarment cupping her bosom. He ran his palms over the smooth fabric, teasing her hardening nipples into peaks with his thumbs. The mortal sighed happily and covered his hands with her own. He kneaded her soft bust through the silky bindings, testing the weight of them in his hands.
Loki’s head shot forwards and captured one teat in his mouth, sucking hard on the nipple through the fabric. Darcy let out a soft cry, wrapping her arms around his head. He tongued at the hardened nub, wetting the fabric. Darcy was rutting against him unashamedly. Loki pressed her hips down harder against him and bit lightly at her nipple, causing the girl to wail as she rode him through their clothing. His member twitched at the sound.
Darcy’s mind was trying desperately to think of a way to remove her pants so she could fuck him right there on the armchair, but there seemed to be no way of doing that without sacrificing the feel of his hard-on grinding into her ladyparts. She ached for penetration, to feel him sliding in and out of her.
Darcy mewed adoringly at the sensations the God was feeding her. She wanted to feel his mouth against her skin. She quickly let go of his head and reached behind to unclasp her bra. It didn’t help that when she let go, Loki moved his head backwards, drawing her along with him by suction. She groaned at the new angle of her pelvis against his as she wriggled her arms out of the bra straps. Loki moved his head to nip lightly at the skin above her breasts, allowing her to remove the bra and toss it.
Loki cupped them both in his hands. They were milky-white and full, topped with dusky nipples, one of which already shone wetly with his saliva. He would leave many more marks on his mortal before they were done. She had to be properly claimed.
Her new master looked into her eyes and blew ice crystals over the damp nipple. The sensation froze and burned at the same time, sending sharp tingles all the way up and down her spine. Darcy swore. Loki raised his eyebrows at her. She swallowed and appended a squeaky, “Sire.” His grin turned wicked.
He gave a chaste kiss to her cold nipple and tweaked the other with his fingers, “Up.”
Darcy followed the order onto unsteady legs. The juncture between her thighs was already slippery-wet, and she indulged herself briefly by squeezing her thighs together and feeling the throb that travelled to the pool of heat in her belly. Loki watched her with deep green eyes, one hand idly stroking the straining length of his erection as he motioned for the mortal to remove his boots.
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way his thrall kept sneaking hungry glances at his lap, blushing every time he caught her gaze. Oh, she would see soon enough. She was kneeling between his open legs, bare-chested and brazen. Setting the boots aside, she tentatively leaned forwards to unfasten the waist of his breeches. The mortal fumbled with the unfamiliar catches, her hands brushing against him in shy, daring contact. Loki seized her hand and pressed her palm against his aroused member, grinding into her. He could hear her gasp and felt her hand betrayed her, curling around to grip him as he slid it up and down his growing erection. She learned fast. Bold thing, her other hand started working faster to release him from his clothing. She wanted him.
Darcy heard Loki give a short sigh as she tugged his pants and whatever else he was wearing out of the way. His dick sprang free and wow, was that ever going to stretch her insides. Her wide, blue eyes roamed the length of his cock as her hands reached to stroke him. He felt strangely cool to the touch, but pulsing and hard as any other that Darcy had jacked off. She moved on instinct, trying to find a rhythm that would please her new master. She swiped the pad of her thumb over the tip of his shaft, smearing a sticky sheen of pre-cum over the head. Loki grunted and wrapped a chilled hand around the back of her neck, forcing her head closer to him. Darcy obediently took his cock into her mouth, a little shiver chasing down her spine as cold spread over her tongue.
She could hear him gasping and humming deep sounds of satisfaction that spread fire throughout her veins. She was pleasing him! She suckled lightly as her tongue explored his length, enjoying the movement of skin over hard flesh as she worked a layer of spittle over him. Both of Loki’s hands clawed at the back of her neck and travelled upwards to fist in her thick hair. There was hesitation; then a sharp tug of his fists and Darcy forced her throat open to engulf him fully.
Loki groaned at the heat of her mouth; the feel of her lips and tongue and the twitching flesh at the back of her throat. The mortal could not last very long without air, convulsing and pulling back to cough after only a few short thrusts. She looked up at him with round eyes sparkling with tears and the power of the tesseract, keeping her gaze locked with his as she ran her pink tongue from the base of his shaft to the weeping tip. Loki closed his eyes and leaned back, focusing only on the feel of her lips drawing over his crown. He blindly cupped her cheek in one hand to guide her movements, his other hand still tugging her dark hair in encouragement.
Darcy could hear whispered encouragements in her ear that sounded strangely like her own voice, though her mouth was occupied. She was so full of focus and purpose and full of Loki’s magical love-popsicle. She wondered distantly, while rotating her mouth slightly on every up and downward stroke, why he was so cold and whether she would get brain-freeze. Stay classy, Lewis. Her mind was pulled roughly back to the present by his hand tightening painfully in her hair. His head tilted back further, exposing a pale neck chording with tensed muscles. He started making breathy, defenceless sounds from his open mouth and Darcy felt her insides slicken. She moaned around the flesh filling her mouth. One of her hands left him to snake its way down to her own sex, brushing past her opened jeans to rub lightly over her clit, now covered only by a damp pair panties. Darcy groaned again, her back arching to press harder against her fingers as she thought about the solid shaft in her mouth taking her roughly from behind.
Loki could almost taste her arousal on the air, potent as it was. He cracked open his eyes at the sudden bloom of pheromones and saw the mortal’s hand working away between her own thighs. Naughty little harlot. He swallowed thickly at the sight of her mouth engulfing him, feeling every wet press of tongue and pull of suction even more powerfully. He breathed in, shuddering, “Stop.”
The mortal stilled immediately, every muscle tensed and eyes fixated. Complete control. Loki could have told her to open her veins and she would. Any command, unlimited obedience. He licked his lips slowly, savouring the feel of her puckered mouth trembling in effort to stay immobile around him.
Loki tugged gently on her hair and drew her off his length, guiding her face towards his as he leaned forwards. Her mouth hung open in absence of orders, and he covered it with his own in domination. Her tongue responded to his eagerly. He felt her hand begin to work his shaft again and pulled her head back sharply, “Lie on the bed.”
Darcy’s mind spun as her feet followed the directions. They were headed towards what her body was aching for, what the little whispers in her ear were promising. She quickly shucked off her own pants. Anticipation and desire knotted her stomach. She climbed onto the bed and eased back, watching Loki slide the last of his clothes off his pale body. She was breathing hard, hyper-aware of both her exposed form and his. The God stopped to stare at her, his own chest rising irregularly. The next instant he was on top of her; Darcy hadn’t even seen him move. His kisses were hard and biting, his hands roaming everywhere. Darcy’s hips surged against him eagerly, grinding his erection against her thigh as her hands twined in his smooth hair.
Darcy tried to shift her hips lower, to coax him closer to where she needed it. Loki curled a hand around her neck, pinning her to the bed. He thrust his tongue deeper in her mouth and hunched forwards as he slid his hips higher. Darcy spread her legs further, knees bent, cooing desperately against the God’s mouth. She felt him rub his length along the wet line of her sex, sliding hard and hot in a long stroke that brought her hips arching off the bed. And then he was gone from her mouth, kissing her chin and jaw before working over the white skin of her throat.
“What…” the mortal murmured, breathless, when Loki broke the contact between their loins to slither down her body. He licked a messy circle around her nipple and sucked hard, reducing Darcy to whimpers. He pushed her thighs wider, one hand slipping between to her centre. He ground the palm of his hand against her mound, measuring her reaction to the rough stimulus. He could hear her composure falling apart as he played her, the mortal’s voice breaking on a gasp when he slipped in one finger.
Darcy couldn’t think, her mind flooded by the pleasure radiating from her cunt. Loki’s fingers were sliding in and out without resistance, she was so wet. Then there were two inside her, curling upwards and moving against each other as his thumb circled her clit. She lost all thought of control, tilting her head back and arching against his suckling mouth with a wanton moan. So good, “Sire…”
She heard him leave her nipple with a wet pop, “Call me by my name, mortal.”
Darcy shivered with excitement, “Loki.” His eyes darkened as she formed the word, and she could feel the power of the name roll off her tongue.
Loki crawled over her, wicked with intent, lean and white and dangerous. Darcy’s eyes strayed to the long erection jutting proudly from his dark nest of curls. Oh God, she wanted that. She could still taste him faintly in her mouth. He had a beautiful cock, and she wanted it pushed all the way inside of her. Darcy turned her blue, glowing eyes back to Loki as the Norse deity caged her with his arms, hovering over her.
He drew one hand in a feather-light line down her body to gently stroke her slick folds, his thumb rubbing firm circles over clit. Darcy’s body felt tight with anticipation, her hips trembling and bucking against his hand, “Loki please,” the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.
Loki grinned darkly in a way that made Darcy think of predator and prey. He brought his dewy hand back to his cock to guide it to her entrance. He pressed the tip against her, watching the mortal’s eyes widen and glow as she tried to buck her hips higher. Soon, very soon pet, “Please what?” he breathed raggedly.
“Fuck me,” Darcy hissed without hesitation, meekness giving way to snarling need as she told him exactly what to do to her in the filthiest language that she knew. Loki laughed and grabbed her face, pressing their lips together and sliding his cock fully inside of her in one motion. Darcy stopped thinking.
Loki pressed a hand bruising-hard on her hip, pulling himself all the way out of her and thrusting in again, causing the two of them to moan into their kiss. He set a slow pace, enjoying how the mortal moved against him in desperation, trying to draw him deeper, faster. He would indulge her.
Loki’s head dropped beside her own, whispering dark encouragements in her ear as their bodies moved in unison. Darcy’s mouth was open and gasping. Oh, he was definitely worshipped as a God for a reason. Every thrust made her body sing and her voice cry out; she could feel her own ruin building like an inevitable tide, sending her voice higher and sharper.
Her hands scrabbled across his back. She was so close. His lips were at her ear, breathing hot and cold and ordering her to come for him. Darcy groaned, biting her lip and whimpering the God’s name. The whimper became a cry, her quaking voice repeating his name like a tattoo on her tongue. The pleasure was almost blinding. She could hear Loki start to come undone as well with his delicious sounds of abandon.
Loki’s eyebrows arched high and his mouth hung open and slack. He gasped between breaths, arms shaking and hips stuttering with every thrust. Darcy felt her own sex building towards orgasm, tightening in a fluttering grip around Loki’s jerking Godhood. She thrust her head backwards; lips open in a silent scream to ride out the climax. A strong hand cradled the back of her neck and tilted her head towards her sire.
“Look at me,” he breathed, his fingers digging into her flesh as they both neared the tipping point.
Darcy forced her eyes to stay locked with his as she came, her voice hitching on his name. Orgasm locked every muscle tight with searing pleasure, heat exploding from her loins and she soared. She felt Loki thrust deep and bury himself there, pulsing and spending his seed inside of her, green eyes wide and pupils blown as he drank in her response. His other hand cupped her ass, locking her against him as he came. His breath was shaky, his face unguarded and adoring. Darcy rocked her hips against his softening length, riding the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Darcy laughed musically as several small tremors of pleasure rocked her body, arching against the deity that had just fucked her senseless. She could feel their combined juices leaking out of her to stain a wet patch on the sheets below them and she grinned. She had pleased him. She was so tender and sensitive that she almost came again when Loki pulled out of her.
She lay there, on her back, trying to control her breathing as her body thrummed with satisfaction. Loki conjured a wet-cloth from nowhere and began cleaning himself, his back to her. Darcy smiled and lifted a heavy hand to stroke affectionately down his back. Loki stiffened and turned his head to look at her. Darcy smiled lazily in the haze of pleasure, in love with the warmth that spread up and down her body as he stared at her as if freshly surprised by her nakedness.
“Loki,” she mewled, aching pleasantly like a woman well-used.
He carefully reached out and cupped her cheek. His hand didn’t feel so cold anymore. Darcy beamed at him, hoping for praise, that she was capable of fulfilling her purpose. Loki’s expressionless mask had slipped back into place. He smiled at her without feeling and she moulded her face into a mirror image. He bent forwards and kissed her softly on the temple, closing his eyes lightly and inhaling her scent.
The God lay down beside her wordlessly on the spoilt bed sheets. Amid her empty exhaustion, Darcy wondered if that was her cue to leave. She shifted onto her elbows and squinted across the room for a sign of her panties.
“Stay,” Loki murmured, not looking at his thrall directly. The mortal stopped squirming and lay back. He felt her arms wind their way around his neck and her body curled warmly against his.
“Yes sire,” Darcy’s sleepy voice sighed back to him.
They lay in silence for a long while, Loki counting the passing seconds in his head until he had to return to his plans. He wondered if the mortal was sleeping, or simply appearing to. He frowned briefly, “No one told you that I was the monster, did they?” his murmur was barely audible, not seeking an answer, “The kind of monster that bespells young maidens and steals their virtue.”
“Haven’t been a virtue since I was eighteen,” Darcy mumbled into his chest, forgetting not to speak.
“Shh,” he caressed her back lightly, “Be asleep, sweet Darcy… Forget all this.”
Darcy smiled at the feeling of magic swallowing all light, already forgetting what the guy she was resting on had said to her, “Yes sire…”