Darcy set her Kindle aside with a mutter of irritation, wondering who could be ringing her doorbell at this hour, especially with the storm raging outside. Oh, it might be an emergency, but more likely it was just someone looking for the previous tenant or a pizza guy needing directions.
Cozy in her button-down nightshirt, she padded silently to the door, blinking through the peephole in scowling confusion before flinging it open.
"Thor?" The alarm was as clear in her voice as it was on her face at sight of the familiar, broad-shouldered form leaning heavily against her door frame Standing as he was, head lowered and body so drenched with rain that his blond hair was dark with it, he was somehow both a sad sight and a dangerous one. He held the frame as if he were struggling not to cross the threshold, and there was tension in the muscles she could see outlined by the slick black of his sodden t-shirt.
She fought down a pang of lust and focused on worry instead, even when sharp white veins of lightning split the sky behind him, the air crackling as his head slowly raised. Deep, oceanic blue eyes fixed on hers, and she realized they were both breathing quickly but didn't yet know why. Flustered and blushing, she tried to find words to fill the awkward silence but none came.
"Darcy..." he breathed--almost a groan--and her mouth closed with a startled snap. What the hell was wrong with him?
She shook her head to clear it. "Are you hurt? Are you... Um. What in the actual fuck..." she laughed, the sound too nervous and strained to ease the tension between them. "What happened to you?"
For an answer, he stepped through the door and reached for her, slick wet hands on her jaw and the back of her head as he kissed hungrily, his lips pressed so fiercely against hers that they ached from the pressure. Breaking away with obvious difficulty, his breath quavered against her ear. "Please forgive me," he gasped. "But if you're unwilling... I will need to be restrained." She heard him swallow, and then another breath feathered across her skin, knuckles tracing her cheek. "There was... a spell," he said, expression oddly dazed, as if he'd never seen her before.
Glaring, she pushed herself away from him angrily. "Hey, no. No kissing me just because of some stupid spell!" She couldn't even decide which part of that idea offended her more, but Thor's deep, soothing laugh in response to her rejection was both embarrassed and apologetic.
"Loki's magic is more subtle than that," he explained, licking his lips as he looked at her again. "It only triggers what is most secret--the hidden desires, ah..." Trailing off, he offered a sheepish half-smile and shrugged helplessly, either unwilling or unable to explain further.
She wasn't sure sure understood completely what was going on, but Darcy caught the gist well enough to feel her skin flush pink. "Do you... um..." At a loss for words, she gnawed her lower lip in thought. "Would you like a towel?"
His smile faded. "No. The cold helps keep my thoughts... occupied." His eyes darted away from her quickly. "But it will not last. Please--I've done a terrible thing by coming here. I thought..." He shook his head as he sat miserably on her couch, clearly as much at a loss as she felt. "You should--no, you must--either call someone or restrain me until the spell passes."
Standing with arms folded over her chest, the decision weighed heavily on Darcy's mind. Wasn't this basically like taking advantage of someone who'd been drugged or something, really? Even if it was something he wanted? And what about Jane? Granted, she'd refused to speak to Thor after New York and was even dating someone else now, but... was it fair? And yet, being wholly honest, she wanted him. Badly. She had for a long time, in fact.
Seating herself delicately on the padded arm beside him, her bare legs within easy reach, she hooked her arms under her knees and smiled. "Actually, I'm kind of really okay with this." The smile became a smirk as she pecked his cheek boldly, but the response that followed completely astonished her. Thor made a deep, raw sound of pure lust and moved, so fast that a thrill of fear thrummed through her--lifting her from the padded seat, his powerful arms enfolding her body to keep it easily pinned. Once she was trapped, his lips found hers again, the kiss just as deep but this time unbroken until his mouth moved lower, tasting the skin of her throat while his wide, rough hands caught her wrists and held them together behind her. He pushed her arms together just enough to make her back arch, and the wetness of his shirt seeped into hers until the chill made her nipples ache.
Knowing that she could trust him even in this position, Darcy wriggled in his hold playfully, but it did no good. Instead, he tilted his hips to grind against hers, the tempting pressure of his hardness making it perfectly clear just how aroused he was. "You swear you are willing?" he asked, eyes searching hers.
She purred and ground back against him in turn, her movements eager. "Mm. Definitely, yeah."
His eyelids lowered, lips parting as they neared her ear. "Then struggle harder, Lady Darcy. See if you can free yourself." She'd never heard his voice like that before; teasing and husky, but with an edge to it that she couldn't define. Outside, thunder growled mockingly as she squirmed with all her strength, knowing it was useless but enjoying the game anyway--the feel of his chest hard against hers, crushing her breasts between them, the implacable strength of his arms around her, and the contrast of chill, damp cloth on her feverish skin, all these things created a dizzying set of sensations that she was in no real hurry to get away from.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, big guy, but--" Another hard kiss silenced her, followed by the nip of teeth against her aching lips while his fingers tightened on her skin. Sweet, gentle Thor apparently had a not-so-gentle side that she never would have guessed at, and Darcy moaned encouragingly as her body was pulled tighter to his, the slow, rocking cadence of his hips a wicked and promising temptation. Being given a peek at this side of him--'secret desires,' he'd said--stunned and excited her, and left her wanting more.
She didn't have long to wait; apparently he was just as eager as she was. Turning, he pushed her back against the wall, still holding her wrists together with one broad hand while the other gripped the front of her shirt, tugging it open so sharply that buttons clattered across the room and Darcy gasped, then murmured in soft, unconscious desire, moving with him now instead of struggling--even in play.
Finally warmed, his hands caressed her bared skin, lingering over the rounded swell of her breasts and the ruddy peaks at their centers. Cupping the soft spheres in turn, he bent to lick and suck at each nipple, eventually trapping one between his lips to lash his tongue across it in rapid flicks. Darcy's head fell back, toes splaying against the carpet as her fingers curled greedily in his damp blond locks. Between moans, she laughed breathlessly. "How's the wet and cold? Still keeping you occupied?" His flirtatious, promising grin and brief chuckle of amusement were followed quickly by the peeling away of black cotton, boots, and jeans. She could only stare in appreciation, longing to touch. "Thor, I--"
Again she was interrupted as his powerful frame trapped hers, one hand gently covering her mouth while he nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the scent of her. She felt the words as a low rumble through his chest even as he spoke them into her ear: "Warm me, Lady Darcy--and do anything else I desire of you." Lips grazing the curve of her shoulder, his free hand stroked the side of one breast, gingerly playing across the tender skin there before sliding lower, fingers seeking the slick, wet heat of her. Breath hitching against his open palm, she lifted and rocked toward his hand, arms sliding around his waist as something that might have been a whimper of need lurked just under her breath. Shivering against him, her thighs parted to his touch. "You want this..." he asked--or was it a statement? She could feel his bare cock press hard between her legs, and gyrated in eager response--but he wasn't done teasing her yet.
Lazily, his fingertips stroked her, one rough thumb-tip strumming her clit rapidly. "Yes!" she whispered, nails scraping his back as she slowly raised one leg to the crest of his hip. "Yes, I want this." For a second she was tempted to make a joke, but then his fingers drove into her without warning, curling to press into the sweet bundle of nerves just inside her slippery entrance, thrusting rhythmically with hard, sharp pulses. "Fuck..." she gasped, all trace of sarcasm vanishing as she rushed to the brink of climax, faster than she would have thought possible. Her breath hissed slowly through her teeth as she tried to stop the unstoppable.
"A crude word for it, but I like the idea very much." He grinned, suddenly boyish as his fingers retreated, gradually replaced with his cock. She was surprised by how quickly she adjusted to his girth, but too delighted to be embarrassed by it, especially when his hands caught the backs of her thighs and lifted, holding her effortlessly against the wall as his hips began to move in a slow, flawless rhythm. Dark blue eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, he quickened the pace and Darcy's hands clutched at his biceps, the tension in her core ratcheting up another notch. It was too soon, but utterly irresistible she braced, hands tightening on the hard muscle of his arms.
"Hold," he rasped. "Wait until my word--understand?" Panting, she frowned at him in confusion. How could she possibly stop this? He entire body quivered with the nearness of orgasm, and she could feel herself clench tighter on every stroke. "Hold," he repeated, voice low and eyes steady on hers. Impossibly, she felt the building pleasure fade back to soft, lapping waves until she cried out for more, but he changed nothing. Watching him in dazed lust, Darcy caught a small flutter of eyelashes and wondered, was he having as much trouble holding back as she was? The soft sighs and murmurs between the two of them made her wonder who would actually come first.
Keeping her shoulders flat against the wall, he adjusted their positions, now supporting the backs of her thighs with his forearms while warm, strong hands kneaded the soft globes of her ass. Darcy dearly wished she could return the favor--she could imagine those muscles moving and flexing under her fingers--but there was no way to reach further than the middle of his back no matter how hard she tried. He controlled the pace and she let him, locking her arms and legs around his shoulders and waist as she danced a series of small bites and kisses against his neck and chest. "Please..." she repeated, sounding a little more desperate every time the word crossed her lips.
Slowly, his thrusts deepend and quickened, grinding roughly into that sweet spot inside her until her breath came in strained, half-vocalized gasps of sound. She couldn't stand waiting any longer, she just couldn't. Opening her eyes and mouth to plead more directly, she was stopped by Thor's expression of fierce focus. "Now!" he commanded, nearly growling the word, and for a half-second everything froze before her back arched hard, body curling away from the wall and nearer to his as pleasure blinded her.
She thrashed against the blistering force of it, the frantic tossing of her head sending brown curls flying. Dimly, she was aware that her full weight now rested in his arms, even as she writhed and shook, crooning wordlessly and completely out of her senses. It was a long time before she could even focus her eyes again let alone think, and her thighs squeezed tighter around his waist as she heard his breath catch, followed by the first soft moans of rising pleasure. His hips bucked wildly, hands gripping her skin hard enough to leave marks, but she didn't even care--her focus was on twisting to meet his final staggered thrusts and listening to his shuddering groans of completion. She moved with him until his last shiver, then rested her head against his shoulder to enjoy the symphony of their rapid breaths and sighs.
Dazed and pleasantly sore, she squirmed at the ache of faint bruises forming under his hands. 'Sweet, gentle Thor,' she thought dizzily, with a soft, private laugh of surprise.