A/N: So Avengers Endgame was... interesting.

Also, content warning for Mature themes ;)

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Darcy didn't know what she had expected of her evening, but she was pretty sure being ravished by an Asgardian god hadn't been high on the list of probable outcomes when she'd offered to come round after work and help Jane cook dinner.

Still, sometimes life handed you lemonade, right? And you just had to go ahead and skull that glass as quickly as possible before it all, um, evaporated… Or something.

Whatever absurd sequence of events had led her here, Darcy couldn't bring herself to regret what was currently happening. How could she, when she was spread-eagled in bed, naked, at the mercy of a dark-haired god currently doing deliciously sinful things between her thighs that were making stars appear and her tongue curl around itself in her mouth until the only coherent thing she could seem to get out was some combination of the words 'oh', 'fuck',' and 'Loki!' several times a minute.

For his part, the god of mischief seemed outrageously pleased with himself. Darcy had caught him smirking like a cat that had swallowed the whole vat of cream several times, and knew he was enjoying himself immensely. And, well, why shouldn't he? She was eager and willing and he obviously had a lot of steam to blow off with the whole angsty-younger-brother routine he'd been carrying around for so long.

"Oh fuck," she temporarily lost her train of thought as Loki's tongue engaged in a particularly incredible manoeuver that made her feel like her body was attached to a string that started somewhere around his tonsils. Her toes curled and her eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation of the wave of ecstasy that was about to roll through her, when she suddenly felt him lift his head.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting Loki's gaze head on. Propped between her thighs, with a wolfish grin on his face and his eyes shining with heat and decadence, he looked like the poster child for sinfulness. When he licked his lips, Darcy practically swooned.

"Say my name," he commanded, in his I'm-a-god-do-as-I-tell-you voice. Which was just as well, because Darcy was well past the point of arguing with him about anything right then.

"Loki," she answered immediately, her voice breathless and wanton.

His fingers teased her, and his gaze fixed greedily on her face. "Again."

"Loki," she whimpered, trembling as his thumb circled her clit and his fingers curled inside her. "Loki oh god, Loki, LOKI!"

His smile stretched, as if he had been only waiting for her to raise the decibel level, before he ducked his head again. His tongue circled once, twice, his fingers did something incredible, and then she was coming apart, her whole body shaking, her cries filling the room as reality crashed and reformed around her. And holy fuckballs, if this was what Asgardians were putting down on a regular basis she could understand why Jane had been pining so hard for her god of thunder.

It took a while for things to stabilise. When they did, Darcy found herself on her back, Loki propped effortlessly above her, his eyes roaming her face with a hungry, devouring look that made her legs feel even more like jelly than they already were.

She was surprised when he spoke, and even more surprised at the sincerity in his tone. "You look very beautiful when you come, Darcy Lewis."

His words took her breath away. They felt significant, and oddly out-of-place in what amounted to a clandestine tryst that would surely never be spoken of again once the sun had risen. Still, Darcy had never been one to overthink the moment (if she was, she probably wouldn't have ended up here, having mind-blowing sex with an alien demi-god). So, she simply replied with the first thing that popped into her head, as usual.

"I bet you do too."

As close as they were, she could see Loki's pupils dilate at her words. His lips parted, and a noise came from the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously close to a purr. He slid one hand down the curve of her body, and drew her close enough to whisper in her ear.

"Shall we find out?"

Unable to locate her tongue, Darcy could only nod an emphatic agreement. In seconds he had angled himself between her thighs, his hand lifting her by the small of her back until she was nestled against his chest. Darcy wasn't quite sure of the gravitational practicalities of the position she was currently in - it felt as though only the tips of her toes were touching the mattress - but Loki appeared to have no difficulty supporting her weight. Just another one of those handy god benefits, she presumed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the hard length of him pressing against her entrance. A spark of amazement shot through Darcy from her head to her toes, and before she could think better of it she had cried out, "Wait!"

Loki froze. Tension rippled through him, and she saw his jaw clench. In silence, he stared at her, still poised to enter with a single shift of his hips. Darcy took a brief moment to marvel at how motionless he held himself, like a statue carved from marble.

"S-sorry," she gasped, somewhat thrown by the look in his eyes. It was as if he expected her to disappear in his arms, or wriggle free and declare the entire thing a practical joke. Why so distrustful, she wanted to ask, but knew it wasn't the moment. "Sorry," she said again, and this time Loki scowled.

"Is there anything in particular you are apologising for, or are you simply articulating that word for no specific reason?" his voice was hard as flint.

She flushed. "I'm sorry I stopped you," she said, and saw his eyebrows lift a fraction "I just wanted to confirm something before I lost the ability to form words."

He stared at her warily. "Confirm what?"

Despite the situation, Darcy felt a smirk creeping over her features. He wasn't the only one, after all, who felt like they had scored the cream. "I just wanted to check that I really am about to bang the God of Mischief, Loki, Prince of Asgard, six ways to Sunday. For, you know, the benefits of posterity and all that."

Loki's jaw dropped. It was only for a second, but still, she saw it. She had literally rendered a god speechless. Ha, and her mother kept telling her she was wasting her life.

He recovered quickly enough. The spark in his eyes warned her she might pay for that particular trick at a later date, but Darcy was too keyed up to worry. Besides, she didn't exactly have much time to process, because with a smirk that would have made the devil himself proud, Loki suddenly thrust into her, and all at once any attempt at rational conversation seemed rather futile.

"Shit," she moaned at the sensation of him filling her, stretching her, awakening nerve endings she didn't even realise she had. His arms were strong and steady around her, and she arched into them, trusting implicitly in a way that might have surprised her had she been conscious of it. As it was, all she could focus on was the pleasure coiling in her lower belly and radiating outward to the rest of her body, electric and breathtaking.

Loki's pace was languid, his touch savouring rather than consuming, but somehow even more intoxicating than if he'd thrust into her with the reckless abandon she expected. Darcy wondered if he was doing it on purpose. If so, it was totally working.

Lifting her arms, she dug her fingernails into the skin of his upper arms, and heard him hiss, his hips bucking in response and losing some of their careful rhythm. Meeting his gaze, she smirked, and saw his green eyes flash.

"Vixen," he muttered, and shifted slightly to change the angle, causing her to lose sight of him as her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Oh god L - Lo - " she almost laughed at her own incoherence. Her toes were starting to curl, and she knew she was close to coming apart again. "L-Loki - "

Abruptly, he swung her upwards, arms holding her steady as their chests collided, her sensitive nipples pressing against his chest and making her moan. The new angle brought their faces close together, and she couldn't resist the temptation to kiss him. He responded eagerly, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, an echo of what he was doing to her elsewhere. She whimpered, almost overcome with the sensation of him, his scent filling her nostrils, skin igniting hers in a thousand different places, and the thick, hard length of him inside her, moving at the perfect angle, again and again, so agonisingly sweet that she wondered if she might be losing her mind.

He broke the kiss and pulled back to study her face, eyes wide as he drank in the sight of her. The corner of his mouth tipped upwards and he spoke against her lips, his voice like deep, rich velvet that went straight to her core, never stopping his exquisite rhythm. "Come for me, Darcy."

And she did, obedient mortal slave that she was. She cried out and would have thrown her head back, except he was suddenly holding the nape of her neck, his hand curled in her hair, preventing her from breaking eye contact.

"Look at me," he growled, his gaze fixed on her, and she obeyed, even as her muscles trembled and shook, the intensity of his stare mingling with that of her climax until it almost overpowered her. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, and she watched him watching her, his eyes devouring the sight of her flushed, lust-filled face with an almost ravenous hunger. When it was over she gave a shuddering gasp and tipped forward to rest her head in the crook of his neck, her eyelids fluttering shut and her body as limp as a noodle, twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure in his arms.

Dimly, she felt one of his hands run over her hair, long fingers threading almost reverently through the strands. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture, and Darcy let herself preen under the soft touch. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, his arms around her as her body sank into the intoxicating warmth of his chest. Only that when she eventually blinked back into consciousness, it was to the awareness that he was still inside her, and that, while her limbs were as soft and pliant as jelly, his were pulsing with enough restrained tension to break a small skyscraper.

Somewhat guiltily, she drew back to look at him. His eyes were dark, almost black, but there was a smile playing at the corners of his mouth which made her feel at ease. "Oops," she chuckled. "It was supposed to be your turn, wasn't it?" She shifted her position and clenched around him, watching a muscle tic in his jaw as he inhaled sharply.

"Indeed." The hand in her hair uncurled, tracing the arch of her spine before cupping her behind and dragging her deeper onto him. She moaned instinctively and he smirked. Without warning he flipped them both, so that she was on the mattress, and the backs of her knees were on his shoulders. Darcy gave a silent thanks to all the yoga classes Jane had dragged her to for her newfound flexible hamstrings. Loki seemed to approve as well; he groaned low in his throat at the new angle, his gaze unfocusing as he picked up the rhythm again, harder and faster than before, his movements tinged with urgency as the careful control he'd cultivated slipped away. Darcy watched him, enthralled by the pleasure on his features and the way it made him look years younger, until the sensations grew too much for her and she closed her eyes, giving herself to the moment, to the hard strength of his body as it sank into her again and again, the relentless force of him consuming her, devouring her, claiming her with such ferocity that she felt the overpowering pleasure rising within her once more, an unstoppable tide lapping at the edges of her Loki-drenched mind.

Loki growled something against her, and then his teeth dug into her shoulder, and the sharp almost-pain sent her spiralling over the edge at the same time he did. Darcy heard him gasp her name, before his hips gave a final thrust and he groaned into her neck, pulling her tight against him, lost in his own climax. Their bodies trembled and shook together, and she felt his breath fan over her collarbone, his grip around her waist so tight it was bordering on painful.

"Can't… breathe," she whispered hoarsely, and he relaxed his arms, but didn't release her entirely. For a long, languorous minute they lay, still and sated, in each other's arms, before Loki shifted with a sigh and slid out of her, rolling over to lie on his back, one arm flung out sideways across the bed, the other still tucked around her.

Figuring now was as good a time as any to push her luck, Darcy curled into his side, her head pillowing on his shoulder and her own hand snaking out to rest lightly on his chest. She expected him to protest, but he made no comment at the affectionate gesture. Stealing a glance up at him, Darcy saw that his eyes were closed, a smug, self-satisfied expression tugging at the corners of his mouth. Well, she could hardly blame him.

The silence stretched. Darcy felt the irresistible lure of post-coital bliss drawing her downwards into sleep; but something in her resisted, warning her not to waste this moment. After all, she wasn't stupid. She knew the chances of him still being there when she woke were slim to none.

"So," she murmured, her voice a little hoarse from all the good times. Idly, she ran a finger down Loki's chest, circling his nipple and watching in delight as his breathing hitched. When she peeked at his face again, it was to find his eyes open and watching her hungrily.

His eyebrow quirked when she just stared at him, transfixed by the play of light on his face, the way it softened the sharper angles of his features and made him almost… beautiful. Careful.

"So I've thought up a new title for you," she went on, clinging to the lightness in her tone for dear life, because the way he was looking at her was very close to making her come undone. "God of Mischief, Lies, and Mind-Blowing Orgasms."

He snorted softly. "I suppose it is an improvement over big bad." His hand lifted to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and this time it was her breathing that hitched. "But I'm unsure what you are hoping to achieve with your flattery."

"Obviously, I'm buttering you up for a repeat performance."

She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. The easy smile fled from Loki's face, and his hand dropped away. His gaze turned distant, and she could practically feel him pulling away. "It is not possible," he said.

Okay, ouch. "Right," she said, trying not to let the hurt his words invoked show on her face. "Sure, okay. I didn't mean - "

All at once, he was dragging her closer, kissing the words from her mouth. Stunned, Darcy stiffened for a moment before giving in, softening into the hard planes of his body, surrendering to his touch and pushing aside the bittersweet feeling that unfurled in her chest at the farewell she tasted on his lips.

When they broke apart, his gaze was shadowed, but no longer abstracted. He ran a finger down the side of her face and shook his head. "Silly mortal," he said, and though the words were harsh, the tender affection in his tone took her breath away. "I did not mean for this to happen."

"Yeah, me either bud," she said, attempting a smile. "I was kinda in the middle of cooking dinner, in case you hadn't noticed." Her gaze flit around the room, suddenly realising she had no idea where they were. "Where did you take us anyway?"

"Somewhere safe." Abruptly, his expression darkened, and his arms tightened around her. "Safe," he repeated, frowning in thought.

She cocked her head at his strange behaviour. "Er, what - "

He stared at her, the intensity of his gaze cutting her off mid-question. "Don't go anywhere near New York."

"New York?" she echoed blankly. "Why?"

"It does not matter why. Just promise me you will stay far from that city."

Darcy propped herself up on an elbow, staring at him. Her natural inclination was to crack a joke to alleviate the tension - something something, regular shopping trip to the big apple - but the expression on Loki's face held her tongue. His brows were furrowed and he looked genuinely anguished, as though the weight of the world hung on her complying with his command. Darcy experienced a startling awareness that the man before her wasn't a man at all, but something else entirely, something alien and unknowable and infinitely powerful. She didn't know why he was asking, but she also knew he wouldn't be if there wasn't a very good reason.

"Okay," she said. "I won't go to New York."

He held her gaze, searching for any hint of a lie. Darcy stared back steadily, and after a moment he relaxed, his head falling back on the pillow and his arm drawing her to his side, clearly satisfied with whatever he had read in her expression.

She sighed, too weak to resist the temptation. "You're not going to tell me what that was about, are you?"

"No," he replied, the smirk back in his voice. Darcy rolled her eyes, trying not to melt when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now sleep, Miss Lewis. You are safe here."

"Safe with the God of Mischief," she snorted, but her eyes were already closing, limbs settling into a delicious heaviness. "Yeah right."

There was a pause, before Loki's voice whispered over her, warm and magic-scented, offering the promise of oblivion. "I promise no harm shall come to you," he said quietly. "You are safe with me, Darcy."

And the really funny thing about it, Darcy thought, as she allowed her mind to drift away into the dreamless sleep of post-pleasure bliss, was that she actually believed him.

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A/N: I'm always nervous about writing these kind of scenes, and uber grateful for any feedback, if you feel so inclined. Thanks for reading! x