Warnings: unbetaed! And sex also (finally).
Chapter 2
Darcy stretched, and noticed how none of her limbs quite reached the end of the bed. It was then that she remembered she was not on Earth anymore, but had been kidnapped by Loki and was now sleeping on his gigantic bed where they had shared a wet dream two days ago.
"Fuck my life," she spoke to the ceiling, letting one hand fall on her stomach. She heard a soft rustling, like fabric against fabric. "Loki?" she called out, scowling. "I'm starving here. D'you think we could we enjoy one last meal before your dad throws both our asses – Holy shit!" she screamed at the intrusion of a curious face in her field of vision.
She scattered, pushing herself away with her hands and feet until her back hit hard against the headboard. The thud had been followed by dead silence. She glanced around, taking into the multitude that gathered around the bed, all eyes staring at her without blinking, almost unnatural in their fixation.
Darcy opened her mouth, knowing well enough she couldn't say anything; talking seemed like an ability she had suddenly lost to the impression. She folded her knees, tucking her legs underneath her, and pulled at the dress to cover as much skin as possible; she put an arm across her chest, knowing well enough she wasn't wearing her bra anymore and the light fabric of the dress did nothing to shield her from the exposure.
One to her right laughed, and Darcy's head turned quickly, her eyes searching for the source of the noise. Then it was someone to her left that whispered.
She hugged herself, looking at the dozens of figures clad in golden and wide blue eyes looking at her. They were unmoving, almost lifeless, and she found this terrifying and unsettling; it was something in their stillness, like beasts about to attack. And yet, they looked so fascinated by her.
"Uh, Loki?" Darcy called out with a shaky voice. At the sound of her plea, the multitude seemed to lean over her, hands reaching out to grab at her hair and clothes to feel the texture and the softness of her skin, hands that wriggled under her dress and up and down her arms and legs. "Loki!" she screamed, standing on the bed as she frantically batted the hands away.
She looked beyond the gathering; a head full of jet–black hair pushed through the river of yellow and light chestnut. They parted and stepped back, eyes now betraying shock, fear and some few disgust.
As Loki extended her arms in Darcy's direction, beckoning the girl to come closer, a god, a beautiful man with reddish hair, took a step forward, no doubt one of those that dared look down on the God of Lies. "You have no authority here, Loki Laufeyson," he spat out, glancing at the addressed from head to toe, a smug grin on his face. A quiet agreement seemed to form at his statement as hushed whispers and heads nodding were the general response.
"You would do good to remember you don't command us no more, Fallen Prince," another one added, encouraged by the positive but silent reaction from his peers. "We bow in your presence no longer."
"I'll as soon bend the knee at the remains of your dead father and whore mother," the first one said. "They, unlike you, have never betrayed their own people."
"But what is there to say about giants?" the other one said then, now smiling. "They possess not an ounce of intellect." The entire crowd erupted into a potent chorus of laughter at this, making Darcy jump. "They ally with those who favor them, and declare war on those who oppose them. Perhaps you did well in changing your ways, Laufeyson."
"Fallen from grace."
"Ungrateful one."
"Now you lie with mortals."
And the insults kept coming.
Darcy looked around, at their smiling faces; all but the face of Loki showed delight. The black–haired god remained quiet, stoic and aloof, his face a mask carved out of stone. But she knew – whether it was due to this connection – of the rage welling up, mounting as if emitted a deafening ring and an anger that was hot red and throbbed like an open cut. If anyone else dared say something else, Loki would snap.
"If the king were not half wasted by old age, he would be wise enough to see reason and throw you and your dark–haired harlot in the dungeons," said the first instigator as he approached Loki, his mouth mere inches from his ear as he continued. Darcy cringed, half embarrassed and half frightened, as Loki was whispered something she could not quite hear. "I heard mortal women are given to lie with whoever pays them any courtesy. Once you are chained and unable to do anything, I will ride her before your very eyes, Loki Laufeyson. Yes, I shall her ride more often than I ride my own horse."
Loki didn't move, yet the god standing next to him seemed stricken by something. His face twisted in pain, and his skin reddened. Stumbling backwards, he brought both hands – fingers wriggling as if he was playing imaginary piano keys – to his throat. He gasped, and struggled, but couldn't breathe.
Darcy quickly put her hands on Loki's shoulders as his own encircled around her waist; he had her descend gently on the cold floor. Now, she looked up at the tall figures, every one towering over her small stature, yet they stepped back in fear.
"Out," commanded Loki, sounding dismissive and bored.
Everyone trampled and pushed to leave the room, barely sparing one last glance of horror at the choking god whose face had become almost purple. He started to punch himself in the chest, and the pounding – as the clangs of a clock – made Darcy start.
"Stop it," she whispered. "Stop this," she asked in a louder voice, but still too low to compete against the wheezing coming from the suffocating god.
Darcy knew that she had witnessed this scenario before, had seen Loki hurt someone the same way. She knew Loki had erased it, but she couldn't feel betrayed. He had done a lot of things to her – things she would never come to know and that he claimed were for her own good – and this blank in her memory, as she tried to account for the feeling of terrible déjà vu, was also his doing. She could have tried with all her might, but she would get nowhere. Trying to remember would always leave her exhausted, but trying to remember something he had erased left her frustrated and angry, like she had been facing another dead end after taking endless turns in a labyrinth.
"And," Loki said, releasing her to stand in front of the offender, "you would do good to remember I still have Odin's favor. He will as soon perish than withstand disrespect towards one he considers his own son. As for Laufey's remains," he said, turning to look at Darcy, gauging the expression in her eyes, before resuming his talk, "I fear there are none. I made sure of that." He smiled, shrugging in a playful manner. "From now on, you bow down before me."
"Stop it," Darcy asked one last time. Of course, she took no pleasure in the pain of others, even those who wanted to damage her.
Loki sighed, looking at the ceiling in annoyance. He lifted the spell, and the god, free then, inhaled and coughed, tumbling backwards to leave the room.
A couple of maids cried out in surprise at the man running out, quickly stepping to the sides to avoid from dropping the trays they were to carry inside.
"Why did you do that?" Darcy said. Loki didn't answer. She huffed, permitting herself to be a little angry now that the unpleasant memory wasn't being invoked anymore. "It was horrible. It's horrible when you do stuff like that."
"Ah, sentiment," he simply said, smiling proudly. "In your case, it is more of an ailment."
Darcy just shook her head. She went to the bed, and fumbled through the sheets, trying to find her bra.
"Might I help you, m'lady?" one of the maids asked, approaching Darcy.
Darcy's head whipped around; she pointed at the woman, her eyebrows rising in joy as she looked at Loki. He blankly stared back at her. "What did you just called me?" she asked, grinning. The maid was terribly confused.
"Pardon me, m'lady?"
"Oh, I'm gonna need some coffee. Black, lots of sugar, please. No?" she said, resigning when she realized the maid had no idea what she was talking about. "There's no coffee here." She laughed without humor. "You call yourselves gods and you have no coffee?"
"My apologies, m'lady," the maid offered.
"Oh, please do have bacon," Darcy said to herself, quickly walking to the table they had set in the middle of the room that she hadn't noticed before.
It wasn't a long table, but a pair of maids stood at each end, waiting. Dozens of golden dishes were pressed one against the other, covering almost the entire surface. Darcy gave a turn about it, gazing at the bowls of food displaying steaming pieces of juicy meats, mountains of fresh fruit, cauldrons with hot porridge and soup and a huge crystal pitcher of red wine. She laughed, putting a hand on her mouth.
"You are a prince," she simply announced, loud enough for the whole staff to hear. "This is just offensive," she breathed out, walking around the table. Her mouth hung open in awe.
Not taking into the magnitude of her surprise, Loki was leaning over a basin, splashing water on his face; he rubbed at the skin, and brushed his fingers down his hair, pushing it back. Darcy noticed there was another one for her; she approached the basin, looking at it with curiosity. One of the maids nodded at her, extending her hand to offer her a white cloth.
"Oh, this gotta be a joke." Darcy leaned over the water, plunging his fingers in it. She splashed her face, gasping and closing her eyes in delight as she felt the coldness. Once she was done, she had spilled water all over the floor and over her dress. She wanted to apologize for making a mess, but noted how the maids, four of them in total, showed no reaction at all. Out of impulse, Darcy pushed the basin, throwing it off the table. She put a hand on her mouth to hide a smile. "Whoops," she said, shrugging. They still said nothing. "You are a prince," Darcy confirmed, watching as the maid simply got on her knees to pick up the basin.
Once she sat by the dining table, she noticed how the bowls were stacked up so high with food they completely covered her line of vision, preventing her from looking beyond. "I'm pretty sure I'll have to work my ass off for the next 30 years to pay off my student loans and you," she suddenly stopped to laugh some more, "you sleep on sheets made of gold, your room looks like the freaking Sistine Chapel, you don't get to age, never, and this." She signaled to the food. "Do you even eat? Have I seen you eat?" She made a pause to remember. "I don't think so, no. How is any of this fair? Why are they serving you this truckload shit of food when you–" She sighed, shaking her head.
The maids sniggered, hiding their smiles behind the trays, quite entertained by the girl's foul language and her familiarity with someone that had a propensity to choke those who offended him.
"They have already reached a decision," Loki said louder than necessary to hush the sniggering. He tapped on the brim of a glass goblet, and one of the maids poured him a glass of wine.
Darcy decided it was the strangest thing to watch him drink anything at all; it made him seem almost thirsty (human) when he gulped down the wine.
Loki walked over to the end of the table where she sat, and Darcy felt a change in the room. The maids became rigid, looking down as he approached the mortal. This was the behavior that was expected of them when serving the son of Odin.
"It is a shame," he said, brushing one knuckle up her neck, recovering a droplet of water that had slid down. She made an obvious effort not to shudder. "I hoped we might have more time." He raised the finger to his mouth, sucking on the moisture. He smiled when she blushed, and sat next to her.
Loki sat with total liberty, resting his head and back fully against the chair. He made no act to eat, and this made Darcy feel self-conscious. She was ravenous; she could eat all of it by herself and then ask for dessert. With half-lidded eyes, he looked at her trying to contain the impulses. She waited, tambouring her fingers on the table while looking around with wide eyes. He smiled, and gestured with an open palm to the entire length of the table.
"Do they have to stand there the whole time?" she asked in a whisper, not wanting to be heard out of consideration. Everything in Loki's demeanor told Darcy he thought nothing of these women; they were there to serve and be useful.
Loki stared at her, dumfounded. "Yes. It is what they do," he answered, sounding fed up.
Darcy grew serious, and looked down, her small fingers playing with the hem of her dress. She nodded slowly.
Loki sighed, and looked up, muttering something under his breath. With a movement of his hand, he dismissed the maids. Darcy was beside herself with joy; she beamed and stretched her neck to place small kisses on his cheek, whispering thank you a dozen times. If she was staying for some time, she might as well abolish slavery and promote equality for all citizens of Asgard. "Doesn't it feel nice to be good sometimes?" she asked, and pressed her lips to his jaw.
He looked grumpy while withstanding the demonstration of affection. "I know of your gratitude." He brushed his knuckles down her back as she settled her head on his shoulder. "As long as you do not start jumping off buildings."
"And that's how you kill the mood," she said, wriggling on the chair to sit upright. Ten minutes later, she was a different person. She could enslave an entire race if it meant she could keep eating those delicious mutton ribs for the rest of her life. Hell, she could jump off a building if she got to eat those mutton ribs on her way down. "Oh, this is heaven," she said with her mouth full of food. She bit down on the meat, and the juices washed over her tongue, and she moaned and gasped like they had just invented sex in food form and she became the biggest culinary slut.
It was indecent and lewd. There simply was no other way to put it, Loki thought. Indeed, the privacy did wonders to Darcy's appetite, so it was good that the maids were dismissed. Loki feared Darcy could embarrass anyone with the noises she was making. She could not eat in company.
She chewed on a slice of cheese as a raceme of grapes hung from her other hand. She moaned and sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. She only stopped eating to swallow it all down with wine, and, as she gulped down the last of it, she gasped like she was breathing for the first time.
"It must be 11 a.m. somewhere," she said, raising the pitch to pour herself another glass. "Food has never made me cry before, but this might be the first time," she said after tasting the lamb. "Hey, is Ambrosia, like, a real food? Can I some if it is?" And she just rambled and ate away.
Darcy hardly needed input at the moment. She was incoherent and unstoppable. Her lighthearted delight was very contagious. Loki found he was not jealous by seeing her happy, only pleased, though mildly, mind you. He would always be annoyed or jealous in some way whenever Thor was happy, but then his brother was so proud and conceited. Darcy could hum and laugh and smile and Loki couldn't find anything wrong with it.
"What?" Darcy mumbled with her mouth full as she noticed his expression of content. He shook his head, and leaned forward to place his lips upon her shoulder.
From his position, he could gaze down the veil of her neckline and into the curve of her breasts; they moved as the girl reached with her hands for the food. He pressed his cheek against her shoulder, and remained there, watching the rise and fall with each breath, the tightening of the fabric when she inhaled, her throat contract as she swallowed.
She brought the tips of her fingers to wrap them around her lips, cleaning them off with one popping sound. She gulped down the wine as if it was water, licking the corners of her mouth with a tongue already tinted with a deep purple. Her cheeks oozed a heat that increased with each cup that she drank. The path from cheekbone to cheekbone, up and down the contours of her pretty nose, was then painted in a blush that he no doubted would also appear on other parts if he caressed them enough.
"I fear you put us in shame, my son," said the queen.
Loki straightened quickly, the back of his head hitting the back of the chair. He had been caught off guard. He didn't even notice when his mother had entered.
"You won't part this girl's side as if we were to cause her harm. What would you have her believe?" the queen said, waltzing gracefully until she stood by them. "I am Frigga, the queen," she said matter-of-factly. She was wearing an impressive garment; it glimmered as if completely covered with thousands of small diamonds; it had a high neck and long sleeves, which showed her lean, elegant limbs and figure.
Darcy gaped for some seconds while still holding that huge raceme of grapes; she slowly put it down on the table.
"Oh, there is no need, please," Frigga said, putting one hand up to stop Loki from standing up. His son obeyed, lowering his head to keep it that way for the rest of the meeting.
"It's a pleasure," Darcy said. She turned to find Loki's head hanging low. She smiled awkwardly. She felt like such an idiot. "I've never met a queen in my life," she let it slip, feeling embarrassed at the sound of her own trembling voice. Also, she had sounded like a chirpy, excited fan. "Uh, I guess I should…" She put both hands on the armrests as if to stand up.
"I already said it was not necessary," the queen said curtly, yet her voice was gentle. "Though I've heard there are a few queens and kings in Midgard. Don't they make themselves available for consultations with those less fortunate?"
Darcy didn't know whether to take the queen's tone for condescension. After all, she was the queen of gods; it was expected she should act a little rude and entitled to those with a shorter lifespan and who weren't nobility. "Well, no. Basically their role now is to avoid their nudes from getting published on the tabloids," she said, letting out a laugh that gradually died as her embarrassment increased.
"Ah, yes. We shall understand one another in no time," the queen said, raising her brows. That had definitely been condescending of her. "How are you settling in? Is the accommodation to your liking? I hope, as you, it will be a short stay. You must be impatient to return to your family and friends."
Darcy cleared her throat. "Yeah, it might be a little more complicated than that." The queen nodded, as in demanding the subsequent explanation, and Darcy felt the words crashing at the back of her mouth, struggling to come out all at the same time. Truly, it was a long story that didn't present Loki under the best of lights. She didn't want to hurry his punishment and, with that, her own chances of working out a deal. "Just, you know." Darcy fell silent after that, glancing to the side while the queen kept staring at her.
That had to be the most awkward moment of her life, with Loki refusing to talk at all, not rescuing her from her mother's passive-aggressiveness, and Darcy's own lack of bra. Yes, she was practically flashing the queen of gods. It couldn't have been worse even if they had been caught in the middle of having sex, which had sounded like from the appreciative comments that Darcy was making minutes ago. At least the surprise of witnessing them pounding away would have made the queen turn on her tracks.
The awkward pause had gone on for so long, Darcy wanted to laugh, and she pressed her lips together, letting the chuckles escape through her throat as repressed coughs. Combined with her dirty thoughts, it was like a game of whoever laughed first would lose. She let out the most ill-sounding fit of coughs.
"Yes, well," the queen said, picking on the atmosphere. "They have reached a decision already. Do not worry, Loki." Her expression softened and her voice lowered. "The king will make act of present in no time. Do your best not to anger him, my dear." Loki didn't answer. "A pleasure," she said with a smile, announcing the conclusion of their chat. "Please, don't," she said again when Darcy tried to stand up. "And, Loki, please do something with your hair. You look… wild."
The tension did not dissipate until the doors closed, and Darcy let out a long sigh. "Well, that was terrible," she said. "Your mom now hates me, too."
Loki slowly raised his head; his lips were pursed and his eyes half–closed as if he was concentrating really hard.
"What is it?" she asked, picking on his change of humor.
She poured herself another glass of wine while waiting for the response. It never came, though, or rather more like it wasn't necessary. A guard appeared, announcing the presence of Odin himself, and Darcy choked on the wine. She choked bad; wine was dribbling down her nose and she saw no other option than to rub her face from side to side against the front of Loki's shirt.
He looked down at her, putting his hands up in surprise. When Darcy looked up at him, her nose was so red she looked like she had a terrible cold, and then there was the blush on her cheeks, and the drunken glimmer in her eyes. The whole thing was a mess; thankfully, Odin wasn't there to talk to her.
"Son," said Odin, not moving from his spot on the door, the underline of a command in his voice. Loki closed his eyes for some seconds, annoyed by the term, but quickly stood up to approach the king of gods.
Silently, Darcy lifted her feet off the floor, and eased her hands off the armrests. She brought her knees to her chest, hugging them. If one was to stand by the doorframe, they would see nothing but the tall backs of the chairs. Quiet and still were two things that she almost never was, but she surprised herself by being both at the same time. She looked to the side, pressing her head against the wooden back of the chair, and listened.
"What is your will with me, Allfather?" she heard Loki ask in a low voice.
Odin took his sweet time to answer, and Darcy almost felt tempted to take a peek and see whether he had simply bailed.
"Loki," Odin said, sounding rather out of breath to Darcy. Every word he uttered, it would cost him some effort; his voice sounded spent with age, raspy and deep. "You can be at no loss as to why I am here." Loki remained stubbornly silent, and Darcy felt like smacking him on the back of the head for not playing along, if only for her sake. "It is my duty, as your father and king of Asgard, to see that no offense committed by one of my sons remains unpunished. And, in light of recent circumstances," he made a pause, and Darcy cringed, knowing well enough he was alluding to her, "banishment, I fear, would result in an undesired effect," he concluded to inhale. "You, unlike Thor, would see this as fuel for your hatred towards us, your family."
"You forget, Allfather," Loki said, his voice laced with hate, "that I have already been cast out. Whatever lesson you wish to impart me through such punishment was already learned."
"Yes," Odin said, the affirmation lingering as the wheels turned. He made another long pause, before resuming, "it is my wish that you amend your wrongdoings, and make up for those that cannot be undone," he said, sounding detached, but not angry. "Before subjecting yourself to Asgardian justice, you must repay those you have faulted." Then he raised his voice for Darcy to hear. "It has been brought to my attention that this girl died at the hands of Thor during one of your encounters."
"He attacked her without provocation," Loki clarified harshly. Darcy bit her thumb, internally praying for Loki to keep his cool. "I had done nothing to merit for his fit of violence."
"And you saved her life, all too late," he said, putting an emphasis on the last three words. "Hela holds claim to her life. She has been trying, most persistently, to regain her hold on the girl's soul. It is strange that she should take an interest. Hela never had much inclination for mortal souls," Odin clarified for Darcy's sake. It had sounded to Darcy like he was expecting Loki to answer with a yeah, I know, right? Yet none of that was obvious to her; it was classy of Odin to explain things for her. "But, I believe, she does this out of revenge. Have you wronged her, too, Loki?" The silence that followed was confirmation enough. "If it is your wish to free her, I give you leave to march to Niflheim."
Darcy tensed. She felt the hesitation at wanting to intervene and voice her opinion on the matter. Odin had made it sound all fancy and stuff, but she well damn knew he just told Loki to go to Hel.
"Then you shall return to Asgard to be tried for your offenses against Midgard and Jötunheim." Darcy shook her head, actually surprised the list of worlds Loki had terrorized was so short. "If you are successful, I will entrust Thor with the task of sending the girl back to Earth where she belongs. He is, after all, to bring her intended here, before us, so she can be tested. Such journey won't go to waste then."
"As you command, my king," Loki answered coldly. "When am I to depart?"
Odin didn't answer for a long, long time – long even for him. Darcy's eyes widened as she heard soft rustling and slow footsteps. She wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear behind a screen of smoke. She remembered that time when Loki threatened her with making her as tall as his thumb and, yes, she needed that right now. She was still as a statue when Odin paraded around the chair to stand before her.
Up close, Odin merely looked like a really old man in fancy clothes. His face and the visible portion of his neck were marked with deep wrinkles, and his hair and beard were shiny silver. With both hands behind his back and puffing his chest proudly, he studied Darcy with his good eye, the other being covered in a golden eye patch.
Small thing she was, Odin thought. She was neither tall nor graceful, but, when she relaxed and put her feet back on the ground, sitting straight, he found her to be rather buxom. Her figure had steep curves, quite reminiscent of an hourglass. Her hair was pin straight and brown, and fell, partly covering her cheeks, past her breasts. Yet, all this, and it was her mouth, slightly open in awe and of a deep red, which gave her a certain luscious air.
That she was attractive, Odin could recognize, but he was left speechless by his son's choice; he had expected to be gazing upon a lithe, proud woman, one that would purse her lips and raise her chin in scorn, but, instead, he was looking into wide, blue eyes full of fear.
"Hello," Darcy squeaked out, and Odin smiled, nodding as he came to understand something that quite escaped her.
"When am I to leave?" Loki repeated the question in a hostile tone. He strode to stand behind Odin, his glare intent on the back of his neck. "When?" he repeated.
"What?" Odin said, turning around to look at his son. Loki scowled. "Ah, yes. As soon as you see fit." He patted Loki on the shoulder, and went to sit next to Darcy, lacing his fingers together to have them rest on his lap.
"Uh, do you care for some wine?" Darcy asked. Odin nodded, and so she poured him a glass. She was still coming to terms with the fact that the king of all gods and her were sharing some quality time.
"How old are you, child?" Odin asked, after leaving the cup back on the table.
"Twenty… five?" She squinted, grinning. Odin nodded. "But the age of consent in America is 18, so it's all cool," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "If that was what you were thinking about… sir," she added. Loki covered his eyes with his hand. Only she had thought about that. Typical.
"And do you have any family, Darcy Lewis?"
"Yes!" she replied cheerfully. "My mom and dad, but they are divorced, which, I assume, doesn't exist here."
"What doesn't?"
"The whole divorce biz. It's sort of when you don't want to be married anymore and annul it."
"Yes. We have had those," Odin said, taking a glance at Loki. "Son, leave now. I wish to speak with this young lady."
Loki opened his mouth to refuse, but when he saw Darcy pleading with her eyes not to leave her alone with Odin, he smirked, and bowed, leaving the room.
Darcy expected a tumbleweed to come passing before them. Awkward, long silence struck again. When Odin finally spoke, she jerked, alert. She thought he had dozed off.
"It is of my knowledge that you and the woman my son intents to marry are friends," he said. He cleared his throat, and made another pause. Between the suspense and the low and deep ring of his voice, it was like talking to The Godfather. "I have decided to give them a chance, to have them prove that this, what they feel for one another, is not some ephemeral fancy. You must know by now that she is to be tested. Loki has told you a lot, Darcy Lewis. You and Loki share an aura of confidence that quite astonishes me. It is strong, galvanized by his magic and your own disposition." She felt the tugging of something unsaid, a but that was left hanging, and she waited for the uncertainty to curdle into dread, knowing beforehand what Odin was about say. "You must part with Loki. Once he returns, you must bid him goodbye, demand that he no longer strengthen the bond you share. It is conditional upon this that I shall make good on my word and let your friend come so she can be tested." He left, pacing with a calmness that was borderline ridiculous.
When Loki entered the room, Darcy had suffered a transformation that he could not explain. He wanted to take her hand, but she flinched away violently, letting the cup of wine slip from her fingers. She looked at the shards with great urgency, shaking her head.
"So you are going," she said, brushing her hands on her dress to clean them off. "You're walking straight into the lion's den." She laughed, her body shaking with the force she put in it. She sounded angry and distressed, her voice reaching a high that verged on a cry at times. She was about to break. "But you are a god, of course, and I'm just a pitiful mortal. It makes me wonder why you're even doing this. I'll be death in 50 years, anyway. Don't!" he warned him when he tried to place a hand on her shoulder. "What was that thing that you said? If I'm so bold as to ask you that favor…" she was interrupted when Loki clasped a hand over her mouth.
It was hot iron, his fingers on her mouth. Loki bent down, his face lowering until they were looking eye to eye. He anticipated the fight before she started to scratch and slap his arm; she tried to throw her head back, slip away from the grasp, but his fingers were long enough and his grip hard enough to prevent that. She shouted against the palm, frustrated, until the muffled cry gradually died. She hyperventilated, her eyes glancing around wildly. When it became evident that he wasn't letting go, she willed herself to calm down.
"Did Odin say... something?" he asked, and she shook her head almost immediately. "What?" he asked, widening his eyes in a silent warning. "What did he tell you?" He nodded to let her know he was letting her go. He had barely loosened the grip, when Darcy pulled away to shout insult in his face. His hand was back on her mouth before she could catch a breath. "Now, do you want me to read your thoughts?" He shook her head furiously. "The truth then."
When he took his hand away for good, Darcy gasped. "I can't," she wheezed. "I won't tell you, actually. I'm allowed to have secrets."
His mouth cringed in a snarl, but then he dialed back on the anger, and just sighed.
"Also, it's not like you tell me everything." She stood on the chair, taking it for a podium. "Maybe we should take a few minutes to start sharing our darkest secrets. Like, for example, that whole thing after I woke up. So you're adopted. What else is there?"
"Cease this nonsense," he said, taking her by the waist to have her stand next to the bed, away from the glass. "Don't," he said when she opened her mouth, and walked away.
"You're crazy, you know that," she shouted to his back. "If you pissed this death chick half as bad as you did us humans, you're dead meat, pal. We might as well be saying goodbye right now."
"May be so," he said, sounding calm and collected.
She raised her hands, palms up, as if imploring for the patience to deal with his frustrating attitude. "Then it's fine, I guess. It's totally fine, except for, you know, the whole freaking thing! You will die and I'll become insane."
Darcy looked at him. In black hair and black clothes, he was a stain against the gold. She gazed until the black started to merge and melt, like an oil painting sprinkled with solvent. She blinked, but nothing changed. The continuous flow of time became a slimy line and the moment stretched until it stopped. The sounds became deep blabbering in the background, like the music coming from a radio losing power.
Darcy felt pulled into him. She arched her body forwards, feeling suspended in this rupture in which only she dwelt.
Thor was right, she realized; she could see into Loki's thoughts. She blindly tiptoed around the edge, before letting herself fall. The black stain enlarged to reveal a black depth behind, a cage of horrors for those who had the power to read minds. She swam past the darkness and rose above, emerging in a cave of grey and even rock. Reality broke the haze, like a stone shattering a window, when a hand gripped her wrist, and she opened her eyes, not knowing she have even closed them to begin with.
Loki was looking back at her, a glare that spoke of a hate that she refused existed within him. She winced when his grip tightened, and he let go of her, his mouth twisting in a snarl.
Darcy rubbed her wrist with her other hand, and feeling as fighting fire with fire, said, "It is okay when you do it, I see. Why? Is it because you're embarrassed to admit it? Your mother is disappointed in you, Loki, and it hurts you." His hand shot out to grab her, but Darcy knew a second before he would do it. She walked backwards, feeling some strange euphoria, her hands trembling with the afterglow of experiencing a new power. "The God of Lies has feelings," she mocked him. "But she's not your real mother," she said, scowling. "You're not just saying that. Odin's not your real father."
She knew well she crossed the line and was pushing forward, forward, where he allowed no one.
Loki pushed the heavy chair out of the way, knocking it over. With each step he took, Darcy felt her lungs becoming smaller.
She hastily climbed on top of the bed and stood with the back of her knees against the headboard. She was smiling; she felt a dangerous ecstasy running through her. He knees buckled and her hands trembled. "It feels… immense, infinite." She laughed, sounding borderline maniac. His hand shot out to grasp her leg, but she stumbled out of his reach again.
Darcy wanted to try something else. She only got one shot, and she wasn't even sure it would work. She stepped forward to let Loki take her by the ankle and pull her forwards. She fell backwards, bouncing on the bed. Quickly, she closed her eyes, imagining that familiar warmth spread through her fingers; she concentrated, picturing her hands holding stones heated by fire. She sat up, and put her hand on his chest, letting the warmth spread out, draining the will out of him. His flesh, a container of unlimited power and strength, became but a body for her to control, and she rejoiced, letting out a shriek of delight. But it didn't last long. His power to fight back was greater than hers.
With anger, he took her by the wrist and dragged her before the very table where she ate. He swung his free arm across the surface, knocking over every plate of food. The bowls bounced on the floor, their metal resounding like vibrating bells; and the crystal shattered, the shards scattering like fireworks; and the soup spilled, like a river, splattering her dress.
It was with the same anger that he took a handful of the white fabric, twisting and pulling until it tore apart. Darcy let out a sharp grunt in protest, holding at the tendrils of her dress, before Loki managed to yank it out and throw it across the room.
Darcy watched the bundle of fabric fall, like a ball of white fire, to settle delicately on the bed. Exposed, she went to cover herself, but he struggled to catch her arms as she trashed. Finally, he grasped both her elbows, pressing them against her sides.
"That is much better," he said, panting as if out of breath. Then he smiled as he saw her shudder, her knees trembling violently. His laugh died off as he leaned to kiss her breast, inhaling sharply, feeling the relief of a desire he wasn't aware was suppressing. He put both hands on her back, near the shoulder blades, and made her come closer. He pressed his nose on the space between her breasts, eyebrows knitting as if it hurt.
It was the cold of the table and the warmth of his mouth that made Darcy tremble, she repeated herself again and again. She cried out when his mouth closed around her nipple, teeth grazing the tip. Darcy didn't know what took over her when she slapped him hard across the face, but he was taken aback, and stopped, looking up at her.
Loki laughed, standing straight. He placed his mouth right on her ear and, putting his hand against the other cheek, pressed his lips harder against her skin. "I know," he whispered in a deep tone, pressing then his forehead against her temple. "I know what it feels like. Do you wish to have the power to command them all?"
Felling her throat very dry, Darcy swallowed to speak, but still her voice sounded hoarse and spent. "What do you mean?"
"I think you know what I mean." And he laughed away, always pressing her mouth against her cheek. "I speak of the power to conquer worlds, of the strength to control everyone and everything. You, a mortal, can rise above gods."
"No, no, no," she let out as a single word. As pliant as she was, he carried her to have her lie on the table. The euphoria had turned into a force too big for her to hold, and she was scared; she wanted the last of this power to leave her body, to be expelled before it could corrupt her determination and common sense. It did, and she found herself almost naked, lying on the hard table, like she just awoke from a dream. She propped herself up in one elbow, and looked around, mildly confused. It was gone, but she felt the aftereffect, like the tinge of dizziness after being on a rocking boat for too long.
She stared at Loki. He became just a man, slouching and with a serious expression. His hair was tousled, and his wiry physique wrapped in tight, tight black. Darcy nodded, and there was a prelude of upmost stillness when she could perfectly hear the control breaking like a twig snapping under incessant pressure.
They clashed like meteorites, and held for dear life. Darcy was vaguely aware that they hadn't their eyes closed as they kissed. He bit on her lip to control her, put her in place, but she refused and leaned away, just to return, wanting to take charge, sliding her tongue between his lips.
There was really no time for them to stop so they could completely disrobe, so a lot of pulling and tugging succeeded, which ended in ripping and tearing. She should have found it funny, the urgency with which they attacked Loki's shirt like it was burning his skin. He blindly searched for her underwear while kicking off his boots, and Darcy briefly felt the pain of the fabric digging into her skin, before it finally gave way and she was completely naked, at last.
There was a second when Loki did look down, contemplating his own excess of clothes, while Darcy chased his mouth with her own.
"What now, Loki? What?" Darcy asked, feeling out of breath and patience.
He smirked with his lips closed. He put some space between them to remove his shirt, and Darcy, expecting his form to be gaunt, was pleased to find his muscles defined and elongated.
It was most lewd the way she pouted, running her hands up his arms until they met around his neck. She then moved them downwards, her fingernails raking over the contours of his chest and stomach, and down, down, until they disappeared under the waistband of his pant. She opened her mouth and raised her brows in a gesture of pleasant surprise. "Found it," she said through a smile. She brushed her open palm down his length to wrap her fingers around it. She should have known he would be the dark, silent type always. His brows knitted as he opened his mouth slightly, but he didn't make a sound, except for the heavy breathing. She pecked him on the cheek, and hooked one foot around his waist to bring him closer.
He snapped out of it, and grasped her knees, bringing her to the very edge of the table. She laughed, mocking him, and squeezed hard enough to make him grunt. She became quiet when he put a hand on her hip to flip her over and have her lie on her stomach. She hadn't liked that at all, he could tell.
She kicked blindly, her sole connecting with his chest hard, making a hollow sound. "You're not fucking me like I'm one of your slaves." She scattered forward to sit on the opposite end of the table. Her lips were pursed, and her nostrils flared.
"No," he agreed, pacing around the table. Her eyes were fixed on him, carefully intent on his movement. Loki brought a hand to her cheek, the thumb pressing across her parted lips. He felt like a maniac just by looking at her.
"Kneel then," Darcy asked in a shaky voice. He squinted, taken aback by her nerve, and removed his hand. "Kneel," she said louder and steadier, the command bouncing against the walls, filling the chamber with its echo.
She was on a power trip, the past euphoria returning, making her skin shake. When his knees bent, she let out a moan, and parted her legs, watching his head lower between her thighs.
Darcy lay down on the table, looking at the tall ceiling, her mouth open in soft moans as she felt his breath caress near her most intimidate spot. The anticipation welled up until she was sure he was teasing her. She was about to sat up and protest when she felt the tip of his tongue lick across the slit, and she became rigid, letting out an embarrassingly loud cry. She felt the tip of a finger pushing into her entrance, and she slapped him on the head.
"Just–just your tongue," she warned him. She lay down again, closing her eyes.
Wet and hot, the tip of his tongue pressed against her clit, and she grabbed his hair, pulling at it until she felt the scalp rise and press against her knuckles. She breathed out an encouraging whine, and he obeyed, pressing his open mouth against her. He made a swift circling motion, and she arched her back, feeling herself thrown over the edge.
Darcy would have to give him a golden star. He was amazing at it. He knew exactly where to put pressure: on the vicinity of her very center, as not to hurt her, nudging with firm and constant pressure. She started to move with his rhythm, rocking her hips, and parting her legs wider.
She felt the sweet numbness of an approaching orgasm tingle her toes, and she threw her head back, pulling his hair as if to tear it off his head. The acute warmth traveled upwards, up her legs, to pool on her belly. Her mouth opened in a mute cry, and she straightened her legs as she came, feeling the strain of the ecstasy taking a hold of her. It lingered, just to fade away in mitigating waves that make her body jerk ever so slightly.
Darcy sighed with delight, letting go of his hair slowly. She rolled to the side, bringing her knees closer to her chest. She panted, enjoying the remains of a sweet fatigue. "That was really, really good," he commended him. Loki put a hand on her thigh, and she grimaced. "Give me a second," she said happily. He snatched his hand away, rather angry, and she cackled. "Just a second, jeez!" she said in fake exasperation, sitting up lazily.
No wonder he was so angry. She could see his erection pressing against his pants, and she almost apologized, only refraining when she was sure this would anger him further.
With fingers still shaking, she reached for the front of his pants to undo the many buckles. "This is bullshit," she complained, and brushed her hands down the fabric to get rid of the sweat on her palms. "Okay, you do that." He cocked one eyebrow, and quickly unbuckled his pants.
While he was busy getting out of his pants, she swung her legs off the table and jumped on the floor. She enjoyed every second of his attention as she paraded to the bed, swinging her hips in a slow, flowing motion. She looked over her shoulder to see his mouth inches from where her ear just was. She hummed, and crawled onto the mattress.
If he intended to intimidate her by standing stark naked in front of her, he was dead wrong. She pouted, feigning indifference, and looked to the side.
"I do not appreciate you making a mockery of me."
"You don't?" She waggled her eyebrows, stretching her leg to touch the hard line of his erection with her toes. "What do gods appreciate?" She lightly stroked its length, up and down. He grasped her ankle with too much force, and she whined, complaining. "Not so hard now. Can't you do gentle and sweet?" she purred, cocking her head. When he tried to touch her, she flinched, shaking her head. "Uh, uh." She leaned backwards slowly, propping her weight in both elbows. She puffed her chest, and shook her head, letting her hair fall off her shoulders.
She let him stare. He looked entranced as he scanned her figure, from her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, down to her full breasts that raised and fell with every deep breath, and down, down to her inner thighs where he could clearly see the wet trail of his kisses.
Loki looked so utterly lost she erupted into laughter, throwing her head back, exposing the pale column of her neck. "Well, then?" she said, and tried to smile, but the gesture faltered, her lips trembling with desire as she saw his eyes getting darker. "Fuck me," she breathed out, her voice shattering the façade of her little game.
Darcy didn't know whether he did it because he was taking heed of her words, but he did take her gentle and slow. He descended on her, their stomachs pressing in a straight line, and their mouths coming together in a lingering kiss as he cradled the back of her head, his thumb caressing her scalp. His hardness pressed against her wetness, and Loki's lips retracted to show his teeth in a feral smile. She lifted her hips, trying to align herself with him, and looked blindly with her hand to guide him.
He barely pushed inside, and she felt closing in, her insides clenching due to the discomfort. "Stop, stop, stop," she quickly said.
"Yes," he said, halting to wrap his fingers around her neck as she looked up, her eyebrows knitting in pain.
The pressure felt immense, unbearable, and she slithered away to force him out, only to find that the pressure didn't go anywhere, it remained like a strange phantom. Perhaps she needed more than that minute.
"You are fucking huge," she whispered, eyes widening, as if she was telling him a really important secret. He thrust, making her open her mouth in a mute cry; he kissed her to stifle the sounds coming from it.
"It would be easier, heart," he whispered against her lips, "if you were not…" He scowled when she clenched around him. He exhaled a heavy, hot breath that washed over her face.
"What? Doing this?" she asked, delighted to be able to shake him. "No, no," she whispered as she felt him about to move again.
She brought her arms around his neck, and they stood still for a minute, clinging to one another in that tight embrace. The pressure inside her had become a sort of throbbing numbness, and so she nodded speechlessly. With one quick swing, he entered her completely. Darcy cried out, her eyes closing. She stayed as still as possible, the burden inside now the very center of her sensations.
He started to tremble very slightly under the strain of his own weight and the need to remain motionless. He needed but sigh, and he would feel her become rigid, her breath cutting short. Gradually, he would feel her open and relax. It was a definite sign when her ankles linked on his lower back, and she stirred, stretching and arching.
They didn't exactly found a rhythm, more like something was unleashed and the desire came crashing down, and they fought to make it rise and rise. So they moved almost clumsily, more so when she felt bordering the edge of that warmth and familiar numbness. She dug the heel of her feet against his back, forcing him to move with her. She nodded, letting him know she was so, so close, that the sensation had spread down to her knees and soon she would feel her limbs going stiff. It was then that he gave in.
Loki would deny later that he was not affected, but Darcy felt him quiver violently as he came. He fought as in suppressing the waves of pleasure and gripped the headboard, denting the metal. He panted, and straightened, brushing a hand down his chest. He stumbled backwards, and she had to laugh at the sight of a god walking on wobbly legs.
Loki strode shamelessly, no doubt used to the presence of servants when he was naked. And she was made happy by this. If he had dressed himself right afterwards, she would have felt a little offended for a reason that she couldn't quite name. It was as if he acknowledged her or didn't want her to regret it by moving on, putting on clothes and carrying on as before.
Darcy was not surprised, though, that he immediately took the cloth, submerged it in the water from the basin, and cleaned his cock.
She flopped limply on the bed, and spread her arms to take the sheets and wrap herself with them. "I didn't notice," she said, taking a peek from under the covers. She was confused by a sudden idea. "Is it morning?" She looked outside the window, not knowing how to read the colors on that strange sky. She could only see palely-colored streams of galaxies on a black canvas.
"It is, yes," he said, walking to sit next to her. He rested his elbows on his legs, and buried his face in his hands.
"Are you okay?" she asked, slipping one hand outside the sheets to place it on his back. "You're not regretting this, are you?"
He straightened, putting his shoulders back, lifting his chin. "No," he simply answered, looking outside the window.
"Good," she said, "cause I would've put all the blame on you. Thor would definitely believe you took advantage of me."
"Could he ever forgive me?" He put a hand flat against the bundle that was her wrapped like a burrito, and propped her up. Their foreheads together, he let her know of something she knew he was supposed to keep a secret. "He has not touched a woman in over a year."
"How's that helpful at all?" she asked, sharing in the confidence. "The next time he sees Jane, his sexual frustration levels are going to be so high he's going to break her. He will mess her up." Her lack of tact shocked him into laughter. She fell silent, and he read her hesitation without even trying. "Why did that man call you a giant?" she asked softly, prodding the ground before fully stepping on it.
"Not now," he said, and offered her a small smile.
"What? You don't trust me?" her voice rose in indignation. "You do realize you were eating me just minutes ago? Literally," she pointed out, and he cringed, shaking his head.
"Your indecency is appalling."
"Just saying, man," she added encouragingly. "If you feel like opening up, this is the perfect time. Tomorrow we might end up in jail for breaking the rules. I'm pretty sure we stepped over some line by having interracial sex, and your dad's not going to be pleased. I guess we won't have another chance to take our clothes off and have a nice talk."
"I might find an excuse," he said, placing a kiss near her earlobe. While he had expected a reaction more along the lines of a soft moan, he was surprised with an energetic fit of laughter. "What?" he asked, scowling and smiling at the same time, desperately wanting to be in on the joke.
"Your hair, Loki!" she exclaimed. "You look like a hedgehog." She patted down his hair with both hands, sniggering. "Oh, look! Here's my bra," she happily announced, pulling the piece of clothing from underneath her.
"Yes," he said, taking the bra off her hand to admire it. She smiled proudly; it was a really nice bra. "Pity it did not survive this encounter."
"Wha–" the rest of that question died on her lips when he tore the undergarment apart with his bare hands.
So, yes! I'm weak. I'm posting this chapter even when I clearly said I'd wait for someone to beta this. I do this only to please you!
Thanks for the reviews. Also, thanks to Aqua, my favorite anonymous reviewer (be my beta, please). I really, really hope you enjoyed this. I don't consider smut my element. So yas! Review away, let me know whatcha think.