Prompt: Darcy slaps Loki instead of Jane. Leads to sexy times To queen-of-the-round-table
Darcy Lewis was something of a pacifist. Not that she wouldn't fight for something she believed in and all, but honestly, Darcy was a very relaxed, laid back person. She'd never been that girl who got into cat fights with other girls, physical or otherwise, even if she was snappy with the comebacks. The only time she'd ever really hit anyone was in self-defense (sorry, Thor). She preferred to let other people do the fighting, people who were stronger, braver, smarter. People who were simply more than Darcy Lewis, who's main strengths included a wide knowledge of pop culture, a mean cup of coffee, and a willingness to use her Taser when absolutely necessary. Sure she was maybe a little impulsive, especially when she was in a stressful situation, but not violent.
So, relatively clean track record behind her, Darcy had no idea what in sanity's name had possessed her do it. Really, there was no forethought, no plot for revenge, no righteous anger. But when she came face to face with Loki of Asgard for the first time (second, if you counted the bit with the Destroyer, which Darcy really didn't, because even if Loki had been controlling it, she hadn't seen his face, which was way, way too pretty to belong to the craziest cat in nine universes), Darcy went with her impulses and her impulses were apparently subconsciously chanting, "Slap. Dat. Ho." And that was how Darcy Lewis, poli sci major, wound up face to face with the most unhinged man on the planet, her handprint clearly branded across his pale cheek. Darcy's mouth fell open in quiet shock at her own action, but it was far, far too late to take it back, so she did the only thing she could do.
"That was for New York," she said as she massaged her palm. Hot damn, if she hadn't just about cut open her hand on his cheekbones. Slapping people hurt. Who knew?
Loki seemed stunned for a moment then slowly turned his head back to face her, giving her the widest, most dangerous smile Darcy had ever seen. It was then that Darcy realized that she was completely and totally alone with a mass murderer that she'd practically assaulted.
Later she would wonder why anyone thought leaving Loki alone with Darcy No-Filter Lewis was a good idea. Maybe Thor thought it'd do Loki good to be around a mortal he might've subjugated. Maybe the other warriors assumed that because he was being sort of helpful at the moment meant he wouldn't harm her. Maybe the Queen (who Darcy hadn't met yet, but really wanted to) had seen something on the horizon and subtly arranged for this situation to come to pass. Darcy had no idea, doubted she'd ever truly know, but later, she couldn't be sure if she regretted being caught in this situation.
So, anyway. Hello, slap, smile.
Loki's smile had the lazy, graceful edge of a bloodied sword, his eyes a green miasma of chaos. If Darcy had seen his hand move, she might've flinched. Just a little. As it was, Loki moved so fast that she didn't even catch a blur before his large hand captured her chin in a bruising grip. The other hand cradled the back of Darcy's neck as Loki started pushed her backwards.
"I like you," he purred as Darcy did her best not to trip over her feet as he propelled her with irresistible force. Darcy gasped as her back hit the wall and Loki's face was literally a breath away from hers. His mad eyes were alight with some reckless emotion. "I like you a lot," the words were barely a hiss as Loki's mouth slanted across Darcy's with a near brutality that juxtaposed with the tender hand that curled into her brown hair and stroked the back of her neck as lightly as a feather. Darcy was shell-shocked, to understate things. Here she was, being vigorously kissed by the hottest man Darcy had ever seen, who had just happened to put a decent effort into taking over her planet. Conflicted didn't describe it. Her mind and body instantly started warring over the proper response: knock him out or knock him out.
She vaguely wondered if Loki could somehow sense the battle inside her, because he masterfully worked his tongue inside her mouth, adding conclusive proof for the side of her that was arguing heavily for jumping the pretty man. The side that kept presenting Erik Selvig's tormented face post-mindrape was still holding her ground but between Loki's lips and her body's treacherous response to them, she was taking heavy fire.
"Wait," she managed to work out, pushing against the god's chest. "Stop!"
"Why," he practically snarled as he pulled away. His hand left her chin and braced himself on the wall behind them. "You can't lie to me, mortal. You find me attractive; if I pressed my fingers between your legs now, I would find the proof of this. And I find you," he ran his tongue over her lips teasingly, "very attractive. So why stop here? Why not succumb?" His mouth fell on hers again, but Darcy pushed him back before her mind could get too muddled by desire.
"I'm not that girl who jumps into bed with random guys I just met. Especially when said guy tried to enslave my entire species."
"Why not?" Loki smirked at her, tongue playing at the edge of his teeth. "A little risk makes life more fun, don't you think?"
"I'm not a huge fan of your version of fun."
"Oh, I disagree. I think you'd be a great fan of my fun, if you've got the nerve for it."
Bad boy did not just call Darcy Lewis a chicken-shit in sexy medieval talk. Morals or not, Darcy Lewis had never turned down a dare in her life, not when in second grade, Collin Freeman pronounced that a girl would never eat anything wiggly or slimy, not when some snark had loudly stated that Darcy Lewis would never, ever surprise anyone (an event triggered another event involving a garden hose, several dozen eggs, her mother's expensive lingerie, and a handheld recorder that had been dubbed "That Which Must Not Be Named" in the Lewis household).
"Oh, I've got nerve, alright. Question is," Darcy quirked her head innocently at the Trickster, "do you have the cajones to come and get me?"
Loki blinked then grinned that mad smile again. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ms. Lewis. One I don't think you're prepared for."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to find out. Cuz I'm gonna need a hell of a lot of incentive if I'm gonna screw the guy who trashed New York for kicks. Serious incentive."
"Incentive, you say? I think that can be arranged." Since his hand was already conveniently curled in Darcy's hair, it took no effort to jerk her head back for another searing kiss while his other hand slid down to her breast. Darcy moaned and sucked on Loki's tongue while he roughly squeezed her breast through her cotton T-shirt. His fingers found her pert nipple and pinched it harshly, then brushed his thumb across the bud soothingly. He repeated the action a few more times before both his hands moved to her shoulders and shoved her jacket off her arms. Moving faster than Darcy could think, he'd yanked her shirt over her head and tossed in to join the jacket.
"Hey, no fair," Darcy mumbled against his teeth. "I wanna see some skin."
"Later," he promised as one hand found the previously neglected nipple and started working his brutal magic while the other shoved itself down Darcy's pants. He stroked her wet core through the soft fabric of her panties, laughing when wanting, frustrated sounds escaped her throat. Her hands found themselves in his dark hair and she tugged on it as she nipped his lips roughly. Quid pro quo, she thought delightedly as her ministrations won her a startled sound out of the prince's mouth. She started fumbling with his armor.
"Off," she demanded. Loki chuckled.
"As you wish," he murmured and the armor disappeared under his hands. All of it. Darcy ran her hands down his pale chest while the god flicked away her bra. She ran his tongue across his collarbone and down his chest, experimenting with what sensations drove him wild. He liked pain, she figured out very quickly when she nipped his nipple roughly as payback for her own. His response had been a short gasp then teeth bit harshly into the juncture between her neck and shoulder as a long finger twisted past her underwear and shoved into her hot core. They continued their game of one-upmanship for a long while until Loki's hand left Darcy's pants. The god pulled away and sucked her juices off his fingers, staring at Darcy boldly.
"I think it's time to finish our little game, pet," he hissed as his hand moved back to her jeans. Darcy gasped as the fabric was torn off her body, followed by the scraps of her panties. Then she was lifted into the air, her back settling against the wall as Loki shoved himself inside. His mouth fastened on her breast as he pumped inside her with punishing force. Darcy cried out, her hands once again wrapped in his hair as he sucked and bit in time to his movements. Every push brought him deeper and deeper inside her until Darcy thought she might burst from the sheer pressure of him. As pleasure built inside her, Darcy roughly pulled his face away from her chest, ignoring his irritated hiss, and claimed his mouth with a fierceness to rival a dragon's. So, Loki drank in her screams as she climaxed around him. He continued moving, riding out her orgasm as he swallowed every sound she made, every cry, every whimper. He growled darkly as he came closer and closer and finally spilled himself inside her. They panted together quietly, never breaking eye contact, until Loki started licking the already dark bruises along her body.
"I knew you liked me," he said smugly as he carefully set her back on her feet.
Darcy wobbled a little as her legs trembled before replying, "I'd like you a lot better if you fixed my pants before Thor comes back."
Loki smirked as he waved his hand and her jeans knitted themselves back together. His armor reappeared along his body as Darcy fumbled into her clothes. But before she could reclaim her panties, the scraps of fabric flew out of her grasp and into Loki's waiting palm.
"I believe I'll keep these," he purred as he pocketed them. "A souvenir, you might say." Before Darcy could protest, he added, "You might want to finish dressing. Thor will return momentarily."
"A souvenier, huh." Darcy mused as she hurriedly pulled her pants on. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in starting a collection, would you?"