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Fever Cure

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She holds her hand up against the darkness. The slender curve of her wrist and her pale, almost transparent skin, illuminated by the faint moonlight cast through her bedroom window. Curtains rustle in the midnight winter chill. Her lips frost and curled and silver. Damp inside her mouth. The words echo inside her empty room. Her voice failing. Her body aching. She tries to smile but her eyes leak. Diamond blue and sparkles and hazy pattern spirals before her eyes. She squints and struggles to focus. Everything and nothing hurts too much.


She whispers his name. Her tongue curling around her lover as she presses two fingers against her lips. His syllables wet inside her mouth as she hears his echoes in the space between her hallway and her bedroom. He breathes against her door. Against the wood. Against the walls around her bed. He comes. With winter in his eyes and ice crystals in his hair and a fire in his smile and his lips painted silk with secrecy. 

He watches Darcy's face smooth, a flush burning her cheeks and her chest. Her mouth swollen, her lips twitching. Blazing heat pulsates through her skin as she reaches to grasp his wrist. She wheezes and his eyes narrow. He crouches beside her bedside. His fingertips brush a curl from her forehead and she squirms, his touch like torture, her blood boiling around her temples. 



"Why did you call me here?"

"hmmm....fucking man-flu."

She groans as she heaves her heavy head off the feather pillow, thrusting tissues and comfort blankets and cushions off the bed and pulling Loki beneath the itchy bed covers with her. 

He curls around her curves, her hips perfectly shaped beneath his palms as he pulls her close. Hot and sticky and damp beneath his skin. She sniffles and groans again and Loki traces his hands along the heat and goosebumps of her arms and the back of her neck, cooling her fever and soothing her sore, flushed skin. She smiles against her fists, balled up to her mouth as she clutches the pillow beside her. Loki settling behind her. 

"You thought I was in trouble?"

"You are in trouble, are you not?"

"Not exactly, just feel like death warmed up and in dire need of somebody to make me a cup of tea."

Loki ghosts a smile against her shoulder. The delicate trace of his tongue along a faint freckle and he mouths a 'soon' against the cotton edge of her tee. His fingers slip beneath the hem to grace the heat of her tummy and her muscles pull and contract as he envelopes himself around her. His palm inching further up to her chest, gently placed against the slow pulse of her heart thump-thumping inside her chest, against her ribcage.

 She feels delicate and bruised and torn and scent like sickness in the air but she's beautiful and dark and wicked all the same. Her painted nails grip Loki's hand through her tee and she presses his palm against a breast, her chest heaving as his ice fingers graze her nipple and he nibbles a hungry lovebite just below her ear. 

"You should be resting..."

"And you should be taking care of your sick girlfriend but I see your mind is pre-occupied in trying to make her fever worse..."

"Tell me again whose hand it is that is commanding mine?" 

Loki wiggles his fingers beneath Darcy's grip and she can't help a mis-placed giggle as he breathes a cool blast of air against her cheek. A groan escapes her raw throat as he twiddles her nipple gently between his fingers. He slides over the bed as he pulls her gently over onto her back. Her eyes are heavy and wanton and dark with last night's glitter and liner and her mouth suddenly smeared blood-red with colour like sickly sweet cherries.

A smirk fornicates his lips as he leans down to press his forehead against  hers, his tongue racing along the edge of her mouth as he leans down to tease her opening, pulling back as Darcy's tongue darts out of her mouth to wrap itself around his.

"Kiss me, damn you, Loki! " 

Darcy growls and thrusts her hips up against him, her hands suddenly clamped around the back of his head and the curve of his neck and his mouth clashing with hers; lips sucking and teeth nipping and tongues fucking and hands groping and fingers enticing and teasing and rutting and wanting and begging and needing more flesh. Everything happens all at once. Much too quickly. And Loki is done for as she twists her body with his, his mystery and his torment and his troubles and his shameful indecency swallowed inside the abyss of her sin. Delicious and dangerous and elicit and divine.

Loki is suddenly naked. Darcy curses him again, because that's the part she likes most - ripping his clothes off his feline, trembling body. She likes to trace her fingers over his scars and his bruises and the faint ridges of teeth marks she last brandished into his skin. Whipping his pale body with her palms and sucking his cold blood flush to the surface of his neck. 

He's gentle with her tonight. Even though she claws her nails along the lumps of his spine, clutching his hips and ripping the flesh around his wrists as his yanks his hand away, dipping his fingers around the curve of her seal and stroking and stroking and teasing and prodding and pressing and her thighs feel damp between his palm and he cups her heat before thrusting two fingers inside her. 

Darcy's lashes flutter like moth wings. The balls of her feet digging into the mattress, slipping and slipping, her nails gripping and ripping the black cotton sheets beneath her. Her curls splayed out across the pillow and her panting and her panting and her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. Frozen in a moment of Loki lust, her arms-outstretched and pinned to the bed with unconscious restraint.

He reaches deep. He moves inside and out as he rhythms his touch with the rut of her hips. She shimmies against his palm, her fingers coating herself as he pulls out and pushes in again, his breath tickling her stomach as he leans over her thighs to dip a tongue inside her tummy button. Her back arches and she tries to grip a hold of his length but he's much too far away and oh, how unfair he is being and how she wants nothing more than to just touch him and feel the vibrations of his growling and his need and his heat...

"You're burning up.." 

Loki smirks as he flicks his wrist with every thrust of his fingers and Darcy brings a hand to her mouth to smother her squeals. She screws up her face, slapping his arm and pushing herself further and further down the bed into his grip.

"You really do want me to instantaneously combust, don't you?"

 Darcy trembles flush and chill as she bucks her hips and Loki doesn't think he can ignore the ache inside his groin any longer, leaking silver slithers along Darcy's thighs. He crawls up Darcy's body, hooking each leg over a hip and trembling as he dips his head beneath her neck, hooking himself onto her flesh as he replaces his fingers with his cock. 

He doesn't realise he's holding his breath until Darcy whispers "breathe" against his forehead. 

Her baby-pink flush illuminates her cheeks as she smiles, almost shyly, and he places butterfly kisses along her collarbone. 

They're still. Just in the warmth of their bodies. The feeling of him nestled inside her. One heart and one being and one shape and one mortal. His skin tingles and sparkles like magic and she swears she can see the stars in the gleams of crystals coating his skin. Like snow flakes and Jack Frost and mitten gloves and Christmas and he feels like curiosity and subtlety and playful kisses as she drowns herself in his scent. She lifts his head, swiping sweat from his brow as he pants hard, just the feeling of her heat overwhelming his sanity and he leans down to brush his lips over hers.

"Too much..." he whispers and then he closes his eyes as he moves inside her, the knot of her heat pulsating and quivering and aching to be touched. 

Her thighs clasp around his waist as her ankles dig crevices into the base of his spine. She drops her head, trying to gasp air inside her fragile lungs and her head dizzy and her heart thumping and her skin smouldering beneath his touch. She feels the muscles of his stomach move as he pushes himself inside her. And then out. She moans his name like a mantra. Like a prayer. Like when she had called to him in her half-conscious state. Like a saviour. Like a God. 

And then she remembers exactly what he is. 


He silences her with his mouth again, choking her with kisses and tongue and sighs and groans. He presses his cock against that spot. That electric spark in the depths of her heat. Over and over and over again. Harder. Softer. Faster. Deep. Deep. Deep within. She spreads herself until she can no longer stretch without aching. Pushing him in further and further, her hands gripping his backside and lifting her hips off the bed sheets and they're suddenly half-hanging off the bed. 

He loses control of his rutting and then she's squealing again, loud and unabashed and downright shameful against his ear and she comes as he rakes his fingers through her hair, his nails clawing snakes along her scalp. Wet and wild and dark like her eyes. She reflects the colour of oceans as Loki spills himself inside her, just for that split second, when their eyes meet and he looks terrified and tangled and drowned and lost and then all of a sudden she's laughing uncontrollably, her head against his chest, clutching and reeling and he wonders if he's put her under some sort of curse. 

"Oh God, I ache in so many good places right now!"

 Darcy gasps to catch her breath, pulling them both back onto the bed and Loki struggles to prize his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He watches Darcy's eyes dance in the shadows. They slip against one another with sweat and heat and cool and silk. Her fingers entwine with his beneath the bed covers and she curls up into a ball beside him, purring into his embrace as he blankets her with kitten kisses, stroking his name over her bare flesh over and over again. 




Darcy graces him a sleepy smile as he kisses her button nose. He gracefully climbs out of bed and moves across the bedroom. She chews the tip of her finger as she watches him run his fingers through his messy hair. His feet sticky hot against the wooden floors as she listens to the dull thud of his toes tip-toeing along the dark, empty hallway. 

She wraps her arms around herself, staring up at the shadows dancing along the ceiling as she whispers his name into the darkness.