Prompt for Tasertricks Week: Tickling or Jealousy.
Seven Prompts for Seven Friends Part One! This ones for dr-watson-at-221b who requested a ticklish Loki with a side of biting. Fluff
Distraction
Darcy laid sprawled on the couch, snapping through channels with the swift disapproval of the bored and restless. "No, nope, nada, stupid, stupid, stupid," she growled out before snapping the TV off with a grunt. "Loki!" She hopped off the couch and jogged up the stairs. "Loki," she swung into his room without knocking. The alien-god didn't so much as glance up from his computer screen.
"Go away, Darcy." His tone was dismissive rather than harsh, his fingers clattering skillfully across keyboard.
"But I'm bored," she dragged out the word until she flopped on his bed with a huff, taking a moment to enjoy the soft green coverlet. "There's nothing to do."
"Strictly speaking, there's plenty for you to do. For example, I believe Jane emailed you some data to sort through."
"Ugh, I spend forty hours a week looking at her data. I want to do something more exciting than data entry. Even watching grass grow is more fun than that."
"Then I suggest you do so."
Darcy glared at his back while tapping her fingers against the coverlet before rolling off the bed with a groan.
"Whatcha doin'?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her eyes over the screen. A language that looked suspiciously like Russian littered the document Loki was poring over.
"Research," he said shortly.
"Research for what?"
Loki turned his head up and kissed her jaw lightly. "Nothing that concerns you, pet."
"I didn't know you could read Russian." Darcy ignored his gentle efforts to detach and dismiss her.
He made a tch sound. "Your mortal languages are laughably simple. A mere thirty-three letters? Child's play."
"Oh ho, Mr. Superiority, now I have to know what you're reading in the oh-so-easy Russian secret file thingy."
"It's not a secret file." Loki squirmed as Darcy started running fingers through his hair.
"So, what is it?" Darcy idly ran a set of long nails down his rib cage and was surprised when her lover tensed underneath her. "And what was that?"
"What was what?" His voice sounded impressively casual but Darcy was more perceptive than anyone gave her credit for. She ran her nails over his ribs again and he squirmed. "Stop that."
"Are you ticklish, Loki?" The intern didn't bother hiding her glee.
"No, I'm not." He sounded like a defensive teenager. In response, she wiggled her fingers into his side until he made a choked, giggling sound.
"Ha, you totally are. I can't believe I didn't figure that out before." Darcy moved as if to tickle him again, but, this time, the god grabbed her hand and, spinning himself around, pulled her into his lap.
"I'm not ticklish." Loki glared at her, pinning her hands to her sides.
"You're cute when you're in denial," Darcy stuck her tongue out at him impishly. It was safe to say she was startled when he caught her tongue with his teeth and held her prisoner for a few seconds before nibbling on her bottom lip.
"I. Am. Not. Ticklish." He timed his words with his bites. Darcy was grinning ear to ear. This was a game she could get behind.
"You're so ticklish they outa stick you in a plastic box and make you say 'tickle me' to all the adorable preschoolers they can find." The next bite landed on her neck harshly; Darcy knew there'd be one hell of a bruise in the morning.
"I'm not ticklish and if you continue to make such claims, I'll have to find more creative ways to silence you."
"Bring it on, Elmo."