She hadn't expected to wake up on top of the God of Mischief.
With his penchant for popping in and out without notice, nail and bail seemed the obvious course of action. But morning found Darcy sprawled across Loki's chest, clinging to him like a disheveled barnacle. Past experiences and numerous pop culture sources hadn't prepared her for something like this. Traditionally, you would poke the guy and then pretend to sleep while he grabs his pants and vanishes. Right? That slutty roommate she had during her only year of dorm living taught her that much.
She felt Loki's hand slide from its relatively innocent place at the curve of her hip down to somewhere a bit naughtier. Involuntarily, her mind flashed on images of the night before like some sort of kinky strobe light. They didn't just have sex – no, that would be an understatement of truly epic proportions. They broke the fucking headboard. Ok, he broke it when she tried that spin move that he seemed to like so very much (well, when you're banging a god, you have to bring your A-game). Thankfully, he fixed it and then reinforced it – which was useful as she ended up holding on to it for dear life a few moments later.
She'd never really thought about what sex with Loki would be like – well, ok she thought about it. But not in any sort of detail. She would think about his hands and his lips and his eyes, not whether he was a missionary position kind of guy. And she had assumed it would be dark and quiet, nothing but breathy moans and candlelight – half-romance novel and half-horror movie. Instead, there was naughty laughter from both sides and loud approval of certain ingenious actions and every light in the damn room was on. Was there supposed to be laughter when you banged the bad guy? Wasn't it supposed to be all angsty and torrid and remorseful? Well, it was pretty torrid. When your bedpartner didn't have to obey the laws of gravity…suffice it to say, ceiling-burn on her shins was something she never thought would be a problem.
And Jane had not been exaggerating about the godly stamina thing. Loki was like the Energizer Bunny of porn – wait, that sounded wrong. He had serious staying power – that sounded better.
He was also every inch a prince in bed – issuing her little commands ('lean forward,' 'grip harder,' or her personal favorite - 'put your thigh on my shoulder'). Not that she really minded being his little servant girl since he listened to her slightly-less-commanding requests. Ok, maybe there had been some begging involved. Whatever. The point was that he listened. And he listened well. The man put the edible in incredible. And his tongue…fuck.
So, it had been an amazing night. One of those memories you lock up in your mind and don't tell anyone about until you're on your deathbed and want to shock the hell out of your grandchildren with what a kinky bitch you were in your youth – like that old lady in 'Titanic' (seriously, that movie was three hours' worth of TMI). But it wasn't planned and unlikely to be repeated - which was devastating to her ladyparts (like giving them a taste of filet mignon and then taking it all away and saying they had to make do with high school cafeteria sloppy joes). Stupid God of Mischief and his fingers of awesome and his tongue of wonder and his envied-by-all-Viagra-users pe-…NO! She had to stop digressing. Focus, Darcy! So why was he still here? She felt well-rested and since they hadn't fallen asleep until almost dawn, it had to be pretty late.
His hand shifted again.
She didn't move – she hardly breathed. Of all the absurd morning-after conversations people must have had throughout the ages, saying 'hey, sexy-alien-god-stalker, do you want some Cheerios?' seemed to rank pretty high on the list.
She eased her head off his chest very, very slowly and chanced a look at his face.
He was watching her with a badly concealed smirk.
His voice was deep and amused, "Good morning, Miss Lewis."
She groaned, head falling back onto his chest. "You're such an ass. How long have you been watching me?"
She could hear his smile, "Days."
She tried not to laugh because it was true and weird and creepy and definitely NOT funny. Still, her voice betrayed some of her own amusement, "Loki…"
"Yes?"
Darcy just decided to go with it – every interaction she had with this man threw her off-balance, so why bother even trying to figure things out now.
"Good morning, Loki."
"That is much better. One must not forget one's manners, even in such interesting situations."
Great, he was in a playful mood. She supposed it was better than any of the alternatives. Using more willpower than she would ever admit to, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. She looked around for the bedspread to cover herself with, but couldn't see it anywhere. A quick glance at a smirking Loki confirmed that her bedspread was likely a goner. She tried not to feel shy – there wasn't an inch of her that he hadn't seen/touched/tasted last night. Still…it was hard for her not to cross her arms over her chest.
"Hey, where did you throw my panties?"
Loki seemed to pick up on her discomfort and a pair of her panties materialized in his hand – granted, not the pair she'd worn last night. He handed them over to her with a smile that was more kind than any she could remember him giving her before – hell, it was almost gentle. This man was an enigma's even more inexplicable cousin. She'd never understand him. She wanted to try though.
She slid the panties on and stood up. Then she immediately sat back down. Ok. That was more uncomfortable than she was expecting. Suddenly, Loki was kneeling in front of her. Naked. Kneeling. He eased her knees apart. As sore as she was, she suddenly found herself game for whatever he was about to do. One night with the man and she was a superslut – awesome.
To her surprise (and confusion), Loki just gave her an apologetic look and then the hands on her thighs heated and sent a wave of pure bliss into all of her sore places.
"I am sorry, Darcy. I know that you are mortal and I should have tempered my strength."
Darcy couldn't help a giggle and Loki looked at her slightly askance. "Sorry, it's just rare that a guy apologizes for being good in bed. 'I'm sorry I'm such a sex-god beast, Darcy. I didn't mean to rock your world so hard that you couldn't walk the next day. It won't happen again.' Yeah…that's a first."
A sly smile slid across Loki's lips, "A sex-god beast?"
Darcy gave him a look, "Don't play coy."
"If I cannot play coy, what other games can I play?"
He was smirking. And he was still kneeling between her legs. Naked. Why oh why did she put her panties back on?
She cleared her throat, "Well, ok then. Thanks. I need to go be mortal for a moment."
He stood up, watching her carefully as she followed suit – as if to confirm that she was truly alright. She looked around for the other half of her clothing.
"Where's my bra?"
"In Steve Roger's bedroom."
Darcy turned to look at Loki so fast, she almost gave herself whiplash, "What! Why?"
Loki just smiled innocently, "Well, I doubt the man has ever seen one before. I thought it would be beneficial for him to practice opening the clasp should the need ever arise for him to do so. And since you were not using it at that moment…well, I assumed you would not mind. Think of it as charity, if you will."
She tried not to yell at the man in front of her. He was the God of Mischief. He was always going to steal her panties and give her bra to 90 year-old virgins and other juvenile shit. She would just have to learn to deal.
"Alright then. Fine. But you owe me a new one."
Loki seemed somewhat surprised and oddly pleased, "Fair enough." The look on his face made Darcy want to roll with his naughtiness more often. She doubted anyone else did.
She started to walk toward the bathroom, "I'll be out in a minute. Help yourself to the contents of my fridge. I'm not sure what I have in the way of breakfast food."
"Pancakes?"
She paused in the doorway to the bathroom, "What?"
"I want pancakes. You mentioned them before. You said you would make them for me for breakfast."
Darcy blinked, "Oh, yeah. I need milk though."
"That is fine. Any particular type? Apparently milk comes in varieties in this realm."
Was this conversation happening?
"Yeah, it does. Just get whole milk. We burned off enough calories last night to splurge on the good stuff."
He smiled, looking her over in a way that made her remember she was only wearing panties, "Indeed we did."
Then he disappeared.
To go buy (steal?) milk.
So she could make him pancakes.
After they slept together.
Holy shit.
Darcy went through the motions in the bathroom – peeing, brushing, flossing, deodorizing – but her mind was a million miles away. Shouldn't the world be ending? Shouldn't she be in the corner crying over what a bad girl she was (and she was a very, very bad girl)?
Pancakes. Seriously.
She threw an old t-shirt on and headed into the kitchen to find the God of Mischief sitting at her counter. He was wearing what looked like the Asgardian equivalent of underwear, but nothing else. She could get used to this – not that she would be able to. Because this was a one-time thing, right? She wanted to ask him, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic.
Instead she pulled the Bisquick from the cabinet and started making breakfast. Loki just watched her silently, a small smile on his face. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"Shouldn't this be more awkward?"
Loki raised an eyebrow, "Awkward? Well, considering that you are involved – yes, it probably should be more awkward. You have a true talent for turning perfectly normal situations into farce."
She ignored the insult, recognizing that he was deflecting, "It's just that I thought this would be more awkward. I mean...shouldn't it be?"
"If you prefer, I can stammer out some excuse and then a blatantly untrue 'I will call you later' as I stumble out the door. That seems to be the protocol for these types of situations."
Flipping the last of the pancakes over, she gave him an unamused look, "Funny. Although I would feel strangely gratified to see your graceful ass stumble."
She finished piling the pancakes and turned to place them on the table (which had been conveniently and bafflingly set by the man sitting at it).
"Bon appétit!"
He watched as she stacked a few pancakes, buttered and syruped them – then he followed suit. He made a pleased noise after his first bite.
"Good?"
He nodded and swallowed, "Yes, quite."
Darcy felt inordinately pleased that he liked her food. Then it occurred to her that she was barefoot in the kitchen, cooking a man food and feeling proud about it. Feminism was dying a quick death, apparently. She decided to read a book about the Women's Suffrage Movement later to make up for it.
Loki casually asked her, "What do you have planned for the day?"
Darcy just stared at him, completely weirded out. This whole morning was starting to feel way too…domestic or something.
"Ok, um, what the hell are you doing?"
Loki just gave her a small smile, "Conversation. I ask a question. You answer. And then we switch. You seemed quite invested in such a thing last night." He took another bite of pancake.
He had her there. "Right. Yeah. Today? Not much. Lazy Sunday – maybe watch a movie or something. Take a hot bath. Relax. How about you?"
For some reason, she had the absurd idea that he'd say he was going to do 'the same thing I do every night – try and take over the world!' Although, that would make her Pinky, wouldn't it?
Luckily, he disrupted her weird musing, "I thought I might pay my brother a visit. And Jane of course."
"That sounds…fun."
"Thor has been generous – if a bit foolish – to forgive and forget the past. Jane is a more difficult mark. I suppose it must be easier to forgive someone who has hurt you than it is to forgive someone who has hurt the one you love."
Darcy understood where both Loki and Jane were coming from, so she couldn't take his side here. But she could offer suggestions. "Just stick it out. Wear her down. You've got Thor in your corner, so that'll help. And she's a scientist - she'll believe it when she sees it. So make her see it. Be less of an asshole around her, maybe try to…I don't know…save the world or something. That would help. Just give it some time."
"Time I have. She can take as much of it as she needs. But I will endeavor to be more polite around her. She is just so easily startled, and I find it quite amusing. I suppose I should stop purposefully frightening her."
"That would probably be a good idea."
They continued eating. Darcy couldn't stop thinking about what exactly was going on between them. They were almost back to where they had been before, except the fact that they were in their underwear.
"You look troubled."
Darcy looked at Loki, debating with herself. She decided to just ask, "What are we now?"
Loki smiled widely, "What are we? Have we undergone some sort of metamorphosis during the night?"
Darcy didn't smile back, "No, I'm serious. I thought we were heading one way and now we've made a sharp left turn into uncharted waters. What's really going on here?"
He gave her a patronizing look, "We are adding a sexual component to our acquaintance. Unless you found last night unsatisfactory."
A loud laugh escaped her involuntarily and she actually covered her mouth in embarrassment. She couldn't help it though - unsatisfactory?
Her voice was droll, "Yeah...last night was a complete disappointment. I was obviously faking - all four times. It was about as interesting as watching paint dry. I was doing the times tables in my head just to keep myself awake."
Loki looked exceedingly pleased with her sarcasm, "My apologies, pretty girl. I shall endeavor to perform better next time. You can feel free to speak the multiplication out loud so that I will know when your attention is drifting elsewhere." He gave her a very naughty wink. "Though I feel quite confident that I can keep your mathematical abilities somewhere near infant level."
She didn't doubt that. She'd had to remind herself to breathe several times last night. She had a feeling if someone asked her what three times two had been, she would've answered 'Loki'.
Then something he said registered. He said 'next time'. Next time. As in there would actually be one. And now they were back to the quasi-normal friendly state they'd been in a week ago. Which meant…
Oh holy shit! She was fuck-buddies with the God of Mischief.
That was so wrong. So so wrong. Why was she feeling giddy? Well, other than the obvious multiple orgasms that were in her future.
She started to gather the dishes when she noticed that he was looking at her oddly. She got the feeling he was reading her mind again. Not cool. She was going to have to put an end to that. Later. She put the dishes in the sink.
"Well, Miss Lewis. I must thank you for a most pleasant evening and a delicious breakfast. You have been an excellent hostess. My compliments."
She turned around at the sound of his voice so close to her ear and found herself pressed up against the sink. She held her breath as he leaned down toward her, but he paused just before their lips met.
"I think it best that we not inform anyone of the alteration our association has undergone. Secrecy seems the most prudent course of action. I will call on you later."
He disappeared, and she stumbled forward lips-first. She hated when he did that!
Although he had a point about not telling anyone. She didn't want to picture the look on Jane's face when she told her she was banging the God of Mischief. And Nick Fury! Man, would that conversation not go over well.
Caught somewhere between dazed and frustrated, Darcy made her way to her shower. Stripping down, she turned the water to hot and waited for the old pipes in her building to get the memo. While she waited, she turned to give herself a little pep talk in the mirror about how she was not going to behave like a slutty tart the next time she saw Loki.
Something caught her eye as she turned. What the hell was that?
Green ink in familiar handwriting was emblazoned along the curve of her left hipbone. That was new. When did she...? She didn't drink alone and she never hung out with anyone who'd let her get drunk inked. Well ok, Tony would - but it was never just the two of them. So when did she get a…?
She contorted her body to get a better look. It was...oh that bastard! Jumping in the shower, she grabbed the soap and started scrubbing. It wouldn't wash off.
See, this was why you shouldn't sleep with the God of Mischief.
He tattooed his damn name on her hip.
Why didn't he just stake a damn flag on her ladyparts while he was at it? (Part of her mind conceded that he pretty much owned them now anyway, especially after he did that thing with his tongue where he...digressing). She should be angry. He branded her like cattle!
She'd make him get rid of it the next time she saw him.
No. An idea.
She'd write her name on his ass in permanent marker. That was much more fair.