Continuing Tales


A Marvel Movieverse Story
by startrekfanwriter

Part 12 of 26

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Loki is certain that the kiss he gives Darcy cannot be misconstrued. It is a shared language across their races. An invitation. Maybe a plea.

At first she does not respond, but then her purse falls to the ground with a soft thud and her lips are working beneath his in a clear answer. Her free hand falls across his chest, and her nails graze a sensitive striation beneath his shirt. He pulls back with a gasp to avoid biting her lower lip and looks away, unable to meet her gaze.

Darcy stills the hand on his chest, and for a moment they are both motionless, the only sound their ragged breathing. He hadn't planned on this. He'd told himself when she made the invitation to come home with her that sitting on the couch, watching television together, or laughing over a beer would be fine.

But now that the opportunity is presenting itself he needs this like air, water or magic. There is just one issue, one thing he must not leave unambiguous with her.

Darcy rises on her tiptoes and puts a kiss timidly on his cheek, right where his skin is raised and he fists his hand against her back.

"Loki?" she whispers.

His words almost flee him, but he manages to say it through gritted teeth. "Darcy, I still cannot give you time."

It is as difficult to say as, Brother, I am sorry.

Pulling away, just a little, Darcy says, "Oh."

Not meeting her eyes, Loki says, "I have an SHIELD." More than that, to Earth and to Jotunheim. A red ledger he has to wipe clean. A purpose he needs to fullfill.

Taking a breath he whispers, "It will take me off world extended length of time."

"Like when you were gone for 5 years in Jotunheim?" says Darcy.

He decides it's a close enough approximation. "Yes," he whispers, his lips very close to her ear.

Darcy is too quiet. Which is the same as no.

He lets go of her hand and pulls her in close. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he revels in how soft she is, how good she smells. He lets his hand run up and down her spine, but it is nothing inappropriate. He closes his eyes. Really, is there anywhere else he'd rather be?

"Yes," she says.

"Pardon?" says Loki, eyes opening.

"Yes," says Darcy. "It's okay."

What's okay? The hand on her back? He really didn't think he was breaking any taboos, and she feels so perfect next to him - is he pressed too close? Even if he is, he thinks he may just play dumb because her breasts, rubbing against him are exquisitely soft, even through the layers of clothing.

Darcy pushes back with too much force for Loki to ignore. Before his brain is really processing what is going on, her hands go to his cheeks, her thumbs just brushing the delicate striations beneath his eyes. Her touch starts an electric cascade of pleasure that goes everywhere and nearly makes him dizzy. She rises to her tip toes and the motion gives him just enough warning for the kiss that comes next.

It's difficult to kiss with finesse when you're smiling like a silly schoolboy.

Darcy drops down to her heels. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she says, shaking her head and scowling slightly. "It's been so long."

Loki feels like laughing. He's aroused, happy, and this has all the appearance of being horribly awkward and absolutely delicious. Catching her hands, fighting back the laugh, he leans his forehead against hers and employs a Midgardian idiom. "I'm sure it's like riding a bicycle, once you learn how..."

He moves to kiss her, but before his mouth is on hers, she says, "Have you ever tried to ride a bicycle after not riding one for a while? It's hard, I don't know why -"

He silences her with the kiss. For a moment they stand in the tiny foyer, devouring one another. His free hand sliding along every forbidden curve, her nails raking against his back - the suit coat he's wearing keeping the pleasure from being too much. He's not sure who sets them in motion, stumbling and spinning together into the living room, their lips coming together, their teeth, their tongues. Loki drops her hand and slides out of the suit coat he's wearing, shrugging it off one arm before getting frustrated and just making the damn thing disappear completely.

The backs of his knees hit the couch and Darcy rakes her nails down his chest and he freezes as his skin heats and his body pulses.

"Like that, do you?" Darcy asks.

Stifling a shudder, Loki raises an eyebrow. Like is not quite the right word. Instead of answering, he lets himself sink onto the edge of the couch and pulls her by the hips so she's standing between his knees. Now his face is just at the level of her breasts. Smirking up at her, he finds a nipple beneath the fabric and sucks, hard.

Darcy makes a little whimpering noise. He looks up to see her tilting back her head. Her hands go to his hair and his go to the tie holding her simple black wrap dress together.

He sucks hard on the other nipple, making sure the cloth is drenched. Darcy presses hard against him and moans. With a deft movement of his wrist, the tie of the dress releases. He leans back and opens it, letting the fabric spill over her shoulders and pool on the floor.

She is wearing his favorite bra, he's admired it discreetly in his feline form many times. It's black lace that doesn't hide much of anything really. He can see the warm rose of her nipples through it, and it lifts her breasts up as though they are beautiful, delicious, abundant offerings.

Considering the scenery, Loki thinks that it is really very much to his credit that he manages to look up and meet her eyes. She's giving him a knowing smirk.

Lifting his hands to cup her breasts, he restrains a sigh. The weight, the softness, in his palms is just perfect. With a smirk of his own he tries to shrugs nonchalantly - as though he doesn't want to rip off her panties, make his clothing vanish and pull her on top of him right now.

He breathes a gust of magically cold air onto one breast, and a thin layer of frost forms. With an "ooh," Darcy arches towards him.

"Your turn," Darcy breathes. "Take off your shirt."

Loki just stares up at her, for a moment her words an unintelligible jumble. And then he sees his hands against her skin as though for the first time, blue, the raised marking on the backs in stark relief. Her skin is like porcelain and so smooth and unblemished.

Darcy slides into his lap, knees straddling him. "Loki," she whispers, "I've seen you burnt to a crisp, and with frog feet. Really, you can take off the shirt."

He knows she won't care, but it is something that is difficult to feel. He just sits motionless like a fool, like an idiot, a boy. Darcy puts her fingers up on the first button and meets his gaze. All he can do is nod.

She works the buttons loose one by one, pausing to press kisses to his lips, and his cheeks. When she gets to the last one, she helps him peel the shirt off.

He still has his undershirt on, but his arms will be bare, and the veins on his forearms are especially prominent. So he concentrates, uses his magic to smooth his skin. Darcy looks down his arms, and then up at him quizzically. "You're scowling," she says. And he is. A little. He can disguise himself as a cat, or a human, and have infinite control. But when he is in this form there is a template his body naturally wants to return to. She brushes a hand against his cheek. A few moments ago it would have made him buck against her and throb, but now all sensation is dulled.

"Loki," Darcy says. "Just let go."

He doesn't have the luxury of eternity with her. He meets Darcy's eyes. Despite the fine lines below them, they still have a wide open innocent look. Averting his gaze he relaxes and feels his skin rise and twist. His eyes flit down to his arms, and Darcy's eyes follow. The ridges on his lower arms are so thick they are almost a texture.

"It's likened to tree bark, the patterns on frost giant skin." He chuckles mirthlessly. "In Asgard, 'put a log on the fire' is a bit of a double entendre."

"I think you're beautiful," Darcy says, tracing a raised track along the inside of his elbow. He closes his eyes and his hips buck slightly against hers.

"Stop being self-conscious, or I'll start being self-conscious about sitting in your lap and being forty-four," Darcy says.

Loki shakes his head and says in a low voice, "Don't do that." It would make things so much less fun.

Leaning in, Darcy hums against his lips and slides her hands beneath his tee and up his stomach. As she does, her bust dips forward and he has a lovely view of those marvelous pillows from above. The sensations: her softness against his hardness, the electrical currents shooting through his skin, it's nearly too much. He takes a sharp breath that comes out a hiss and grabs her hips, grinding her against him. She slips her hands back down, raking her nails over his skin. His fingers sink into her flesh, and he pulls her down harder. His mouth opens as he feels himself uncoiling beneath her.

With ragged movement he catches her hands and catches his breath. He feels himself flush a deep shade of ultramarine.

"Darcy," he says. "Perhaps we should do this with my Asgardian form."

Darcy straightens on his lap. "Loki, I like you blue...and I love what I can do to you when you're like this." Leaning forward, she flicks her tongue against one of the sensitive spots on his cheek.

He shudders, throbs beneath her, and it takes a moment to speak. "It's not self-consciousness," he mutters.

He flushes again. "I have a reputation nearly two millennia old to maintain."

"Reputation?" says Darcy.

Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes so he isn't looking at her breasts and tries not to think about what they would look like as he pounds inside her, swaying to his rhythm. "I don't think in this form I can maintain adequate control."

"You think you'll hurt me?" Darcy asks, kissing his other cheek.

He locks his arms and hips to keep from doing something he'll regret. Teeth still clenched, he says, "No, I think..." That this will be very short. He takes a short breath. "That you will be left unfulfilled."

Darcy shifts in his lap and he almost groans. "You need to relax," she says.

Loki huffs. So easy for her to say.

Gently pushing his hands off her, she stands up. "Lie down. I have an idea."

Loki opens his eyes and scowls at her. She smiles down at him. Between the sweetness of her smile and the fact she's only wearing that particular lingerie ensemble and heels...compliance doesn't seem unreasonable.

Loki lies back on the couch and arches an eyebrow up at her. Darcy sets herself down near his knees and then leans forward on her hands so her mouth is directly above his hips, the suit pants he's wearing not hiding his arousal particularly well at all.

And then he knows what she's thinking, and normally he'd be all for it - except normally he'd be in control, at the moment however. "No," he says.

With a wide smile, Darcy bends down kisses the end of his length. Her face, her gorgeous full lips, the heightened sensitivity of his natural state. Her hands go to his zipper and he finds himself completely at a loss for words.

x x x x

Loki gasps for breath and stares at the ceiling, aftershocks of pleasure still rocking through his system. He untangles his hands from Darcy's hair and puts them over his face. It really didn't last long.

Darcy crawls up his body and lies down on his chest. He peeks at her through his fingers.

Smiling she says, "Feeling more relaxed now?"

He huffs. "If I wasn't so relaxed I'd be furious."

She smirks like a satisfied cat and gives a long, "Hmmmmmmm..." Leaning forward she kisses him and he can taste himself in her mouth. Their tongues slide together in a languid dance and he slides his hands down her back and over the soft rise of her backside.

Pulling away, he licks her lips, and then whispers, "You know you will pay for this."

"Promises, promises," she says.

He's actually finding he is a little angry. "I will make you beg."

She sighs much too happily and he finds himself becoming aroused again.

"Stand up," he says and it comes out a hiss.

Darcy blinks and rises. He wants to catch her breasts in his mouth but restrains himself. Instead he sits up, zips his pants and tucks in the t-shirt he's still wearing.

Standing in front of him, she says, "Hey, no fair, I'm nearly naked."

Raising an eyebrow, Loki reaches forward and yanks her panties down over her hips. "Now you're more nearly naked."

She scowls at him.

Tilting his head he says, "What? Do you suddenly feel exposed? Vulnerable?"

Her eyes narrow.

Pointing he says, "To the bedroom. March."

She bites her lip like she's biting back a smirk. In retaliation he leans forward and nips her hip just firmly enough to make her yelp.

Pulling back he says, "March."

Darcy turns but before she can move he grabs her waist. He puts a kiss on the red spot where he nipped her. "Now," he says.

x x x x

Much later, when his face is very wet with her juices, and he feels like his honor is restored - she did beg, quite sincerely, he finally allows himself to climb above her. Darcy looks up at him, with slightly wild eyes. Her hands go to his face, she caresses his cheeks and wraps one of her legs around his hip, the heel of her shoe biting into his skin. He drapes her other leg over his arm. He's completely naked, and completely jotunn. With a sigh he slowly sinks into her. Darcy's mouth falls open but she makes no sound.

His eyes close with the exquisiteness of the moment. There is the tactile sensation, pushing into a woman is like slipping between warm, wet, heavy silken pillows. And there is the jolt of electricity that seems to run from the tip of his length to the base of his skull. Both of these sensations are familiar but more intense in this form.

He opens his eyes. Darcy is smiling up at him.

And then there is the emotional sensation. Like coming home after being out in the cold for centuries.

"Hi," says Darcy still smiling, completely guilelessly. She is mostly guileless, she always has been.

This short time is a gift, and he's been very silly, being worried about honor with her. He pulses involuntarily inside her. Closing his eyes he takes a sharp breath. Releasing it, he opens his eyes and looks down.

A smile that is easy and guileless comes to his own lips. It feels wonderful, like releasing a heavy burden, or slipping into his real skin.

"Hello," he says. Darcy laughs, and Loki begins to move.


A Marvel Movieverse Story
by startrekfanwriter

Part 12 of 26

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