fic: take a load off
title: take a load off
rating: nc-17
words: ~3000
summary: There's a minor explosion, and a lot of pink light, and then Loki pops into view, cackling evilly. And they're all thoroughly unimpressed, except for what happens after. Tony's hand slips into Steve, and it's an unconscious gesture, his thumb stroking over the inside of Cap's wrist, and Loki says, "I wouldn't go much further than that if I were you, Iron Man."
Loki curses the Avengers so that if they have sex, they die. Cue minor chaos, Thor learning ballet, crème brûlée, and lots and lots of sexual frustration.
notes: written for avengerkink
"I'm sorry," Tony says, "but if this was supposed to be funny-- and I can see where we might be coming from with that, since your brother is the god of mischief et al, but this is not funny."
Thor shrugs peaceably, and Darcy wants to punch him in the face. Despite her taser-happy history regarding certain Asgardians, she isn't a violent person, not really. But right now--
"Jane is conducting research experiments in the southwest. I am not bothered," he responds. That big happy-go-lucky asshole, Darcy concludes, and goes off to watch any episode of True Blood where Eric Northman is naked.
-
It happens like this. They're eating dinner-- it's Clint's turn to cook, and he makes the best goddamn zucchini-parmesan fritters known to mankind, plus he always makes dessert-- and then there's a minor explosion, and a lot of pink light, and then Loki pops into view, cackling evilly. And they're all thoroughly unimpressed, except for what happens after. Tony's hand slips into Steve, and it's an unconscious gesture, his thumb stroking over the inside of Cap's wrist, and Loki says, "I wouldn't go much further than that if I were you, Iron Man."
He disappears with a leer, and Thor is left to explain his brother's history of jolly pranks, the words oh fuck essentially personified on his features.
-
"I spent seventy dollars on lace underwear," Darcy says mournfully. Bruce, sitting beside her, shifts uncomfortably.
"Maybe don't mention that right now," he suggests, his face flushing, and all Darcy wants is to climb him like a tree. She settles for kissing him, and two weeks ago being able to do even that would have thrilled her, but in the current situation it just blows, and not in a fun way.
She's about to say that out loud, but Bruce's hand skims along the waistband of her jeans, dipping to trace over the jut of her hip.
"Seventy dollars," Darcy reminds him. "I got a matching set in dark red and it comes with garters," and Bruce responds by tugging off her shirt, even though her bra is something cheap from Target that's yellow with frogs printed on it, don't judge.
They keep their pants on, though, because neither of them want to fucking die, and the next time Loki pops up, Darcy's like ninety-five percent sure that Bruce is going to Hulk out and swing him around by his weird-ass antlers until the spell is removed or Loki flies off into the stratosphere.
-
"I'm not sparring with you again," Clint pants, "Tasha, I have had enough, I want to be able to use my legs again today--"
"I'm bored," Natasha says, "and I'd get Steve to do it with me but all he's doing is watching movies with Tony--"
"--yeah, well, he was a virgin for like ninety years, he's probably had plenty of practice with sexual frustration--"
"--and I can't sit still," she concludes. "If you don't want to spar, you could try to teach me to shoot a bow and arrow again."
"Hell no," Clint says, vehement. "I am not that crazy, and by the way, I don't want any more scars right now, thanks."
"Your loss," Natasha says, and goes to shower.
-
"No," Tony says, "we're watching Tangled next."
"But I want to see Mulan again," Steve says reasonably. "I liked the music."
"Tangled is fucking badass," Tony insists. "Seriously, I watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy with you straight through yesterday, you gotta give me this one."
Fuck Loki. It's still quality time with his boyfriend, okay?
And Steve is really good at cuddling, so-- yeah. There. As long as no one else knows. Even though he's pretty sure that everyone does.
-
The Post has a field day with the photo of Thor taking a ballet class, two heads taller and hair prettier than anyone else in the room.
"They were founded by Alexander Hamilton," Tony notes. "And this is on the cover. Sad."
"It's also on Gothamist," Clint calls from the next room. "And NYMag's Daily Intel."
"And the Metro Section of the Times," Natasha says. "Slow news day."
"This is why I do yoga in private," Bruce says, and shrugs.
Thor does a grand jete and crashes into the wall.
-
Eventually, though, even Steve gets tired of watching Disney movies.
"It's been three weeks," he says, "and I don't care that it's summer and all villians are hiding in their air-conditioned lairs, enough is enough. Get ahold of your brother, Thor."
Thor looks up from his phone, specially customized by Tony to withstand most forms of concussive force. "I am trying," he says. "Loki is not answering his texts."
"...did you call him?" Clint asks, after they all take a minute to process that.
"Of course." Thor sounds slightly offended. "But I keep getting his voicemail."
-
"Bruce keeps trying to get me to meditate with him," Darcy says. "Help me, Agent Romanov, you're my only hope."
Natasha's answering grin is more than a little terrifying. "Clint's locked himself in the kitchen with the complete works of Julia Child, a mini-blowtorch, and about six dozen eggs. Want to learn how to throw a punch?"
"Yes," Darcy says, with feeling, and goes to change out of jean shorts and into a sports bra.
She ends up with some impressive bruises, and when she goes to find Bruce with the aloe balm he covers his eyes and mutters "I can't do this," as she pulls up her shirt, groaning; Darcy goes to find Tony to see if he can run that Loki tracking program for the fifth time that day.
After he does to no avail, Natasha demonstrates the most efficient way to pick locks.
-
"Okay," Tony says, running down a mental list of restaurants, "have you tried Ethiopian food yet? Cause I know a guy, seriously, it's gonna blow your mind."
"I miss having sex," Steve says. Tony blinks.
"But I thought you were okay, you have like, decades of denying yourself to pull from! I mean, we could go to a concert, there's a free one on Governor's Island, we could do that instead."
"Yeah," Steve says, "you go from decades not having sex to having it, it's like you're Charlie Brown, you keep trying to get the football, and then when you do it just gets cruelly snatched away from you by a god with the worst-observed case of sibling rivalry in the universe."
"Thor is fine," Tony observes. "I think he's trying belly dancing today, he got himself one of those ten-class discounts."
Steve practically growls, which, whoa is hot, thankyouverymuch, and Tony wants to touch him now, wants to grab him and kiss him and pull off his stupid white undershirt; he touches Steve's wrist and Steve threads his fingers through Tony's hair, their lips meet and it's basically the filthiest kiss ever, god--
"I don't want to die," Steve says, "not like this-- let's go to that concert after all, it'll be fun."
"Yeah," Tony says with a sigh, "okay then," and calls up Happy.
-
"Maybe creme brulee next?" Clint taps an arrow thoughtfully against the table. "Or should I try a flan?"
Natasha looks over the table, spread with mixing bowls and measuring cups and cookbooks, as well as several egg cartons. "Did you buy out the grocery's whole supply of eggs?"
"Hard to say," Clint responds. "How do you feel about panna cotta? I got some vanilla beans, and I could make strawberry sorbet."
Natasha stretches, cat-like, and then hops onto the counter. "I could go for that. I mean, the cookies will be gone as soon as Thor and Steve get home, so--"
"This is just for us," Clint promises. "Pass me the heavy cream?"
She tosses it to him; he catches it without even looking.
-
"Like, if he asks me to meditate with him again, I am going to explode," Darcy says. "This is bullshit, Thor, we just started dating and I can't even fuck him into next Tuesday, you know? Meditation is not the type of couples' bonding time that I'm looking for. He keeps saying we can make out, and we do, but then one of us ends up without pants and he blushes and mutters something and goes to chill in downward dog until he cools down. And like, your brother is harshing my buzz. Obviously no one wants to die, but I am deprived here."
"I am very happy for you and Dr. Banner," Thor says, after a moment. He's on his eighteenth cookie. "Am I the first to know?"
Darcy props her hand on her chin. "Yeah, don't tell anyone else. Bruce has a thing."
"Of course. I shall be the picture of discretion." He wipes crumbs off his upper lip. "If meditation is not what you seek, perhaps you would like to come with me to zumba?"
"Jane's on Skype if you want to talk to her," Darcy says, and stomps off.
"Spells like this one wear off eventually!" Thor shouts after her, and drinks half a glass of milk in one gulp.
-
That kindasorta gives Darcy an idea.
-
"I liked the concert," Steve says, "but please, let's not go to the ballet again." Coppelia was long, and he just knows that if he fell asleep there would be pictures on the internet. Tony had no such hang-ups and dozed off after thirty minutes, leaving Steve to sit stiffly and poke Tony whenever he started to drool.
"Yeah, no, I'm totally with you there," Tony agrees. "Not one of my better ideas, I'll try harder next time," and he grabs Steve's ass for good measure.
Cap doesn't even blush, dammit.
-
"Thor said that spells like this wear off eventually," Darcy says, walking purposefully into Bruce's room. He looks up at her from a half-moon pose. "So I had a thought."
"Yes?" Bruce looks wry, and he's also shirtless-- it's warm in his room-- and ugh, Darcy just wants to get her hands on him like, yesterday. He comes to standing, breathing in deeply.
"We have sex," she says. "And if either of us begins to feel like incoming death, then we stop."
"Darcy--" Bruce begins, and he looks hesitant, so Darcy goes to plan B: pulls off her tank top so that she's only in a sports bra, and walks her hands down until she's a full backbend. She can feel Bruce's eyes on her, tracing the arch and curve of her spine, probably calculating the effects of gravity on her breasts, and she smirks.
"It has been almost a month," she says, lowering herself onto the floor and kicking up into a shoulder stand, "and we're together and you're hot and I want it bad. Steve and Tony might be fine skipping around holding hands and giggling like little schoolboys, and Clint and Natasha might be fine beating the shit out of one another for funsies--"
"--they're cooking together, actually--"
"--but I would like to have sex before it's fucking October, do you hear me?"
"Yeah," Bruce says, and he's watching her chest heave up and down with each breath she takes; score one for the boobs. "Yeah, I hear you."
He steps closer to her so that they're eye to eye, practically, and grasps her shoulders. "Darcy, I hope you didn't think-- of course I want you, jesus, you don't know how much. Why do you-- I don't normally do this much yoga, ever, it's not a normal occurence in my life but you're distracting--"
"Natasha taught me how to fight before Clint seduced her away with his blowtorch and promises of creme brulee," Darcy says, watching the shape his mouth makes. She reaches out and traces the line of his jaw. "I thought--"
"I'm just as pissed about Loki as you are," Bruce says, and then he kisses her. And they've kissed before, they've been kissing a lot, but this has an undercurrent of need in it that makes her shiver, makes a thrill go up her spine.
Before she knows it she's horizontal on the yoga mat and Bruce has somehow figured out the clasp to her sports bra, which is insanely impressive considering it's a bra clasp covered by a velcro thing, and he's pulling it off.
"Very convenient that you're-- shirtless--" Darcy pants, and Bruce grins down at her, kneeling to join her on the mat. They kiss and it feels like forever, it's messy and his mouth is hot against hers, a second later and his fingers are hooked in the waistband of her shorts. He slides them off her legs and Darcy mutters "you next," and there go his sweatpants. She's in her red lace thong, she was planning ahead, and Bruce says, "seventy dollars for this scrap of fabric?" sounding almost disapproving.
"Wait til I wear it with the bra, you'll get the full effect," Darcy says, "but seriously, we can talk about the price of underwear later, there isn't enough nudity going on here."
"I don't mind it," Bruce begins, but she sits up and shimmies out of the lace, flicks it away with her foot. Bruce is wearing Hulk boxers, which is hilarious and probably Tony's fault somehow, but he's visibly aroused and that is-- less funny, but just as excellent, Darcy decides.
"These need to go," she says, and when they're gone she leans forwards and take him into her mouth; Bruce gasps and bucks up into her, his hands tightening in her hair.
"Give a guy some warning," he says, and laughs, but there's a jagged edge to it as Darcy runs her tongue up the underside of his dick and wraps her hand around the shaft, then sucks on the head. "Jesus, get up here--" and he pulls her in for a kiss, settling her in his lap. His hands move restlessly up and down her sides, on the side of ticklish, and Darcy wiggles. His fingers trail across her stomach and then dip down, finding her folds. His other hand palms her breast and then cups it, thumb stroking over her nipple.
She's rocking against his fingers, finding a rhythm that suits her and her face is buried against his collarbone, breath hot against his neck.
"Don't feel like dying?" Bruce asks and Darcy fervently shakes her head no, rolling her hips. She fumbles a little until she finds his cock, taking him in hand.
"I'm going to-- I want you now," she says finally. She'd brought a condom with her, just in case, and Bruce finds it, tearing it open with his teeth and then puts it on, right in time. Darcy lowers herself onto him and sighs.
It's fantastic, and she tells him so as they roll so she's on her back and he pushes into her, setting a pace that she can tell will be just slow enough to make her scream, wind tension through her body like the taut strings on a violin; the heel of his hand grinds against her clit and she moans.
"We're alive," Bruce says, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips.
"How 'bout that," Darcy responds, and comes, biting into his shoulder. He manages a couple more strokes and then follows moments later, rhythm becoming erratic, finishing with a moan deep in his throat, and then rolls off of her with a sigh and a kiss to the top of her breast, light and sweet.
"Think we should tell the others?"
-
"Hey," Bruce says the next morning, reaching for the syrup (breakfast is apple pancakes, courtesy of Clint). "I'm pretty sure that Loki's spell wasn't real. He was just fucking with our heads."
"It is possible," Thor decrees, looking up from his bacon. "How would you know, my large green friend?"
"Normal-sized and skin-colored right now," Bruce says. "And-- well. Let's say it was experimentation."
Tony's head snaps up like a dog on the trail of a scent. "Banner," he says, "I thought that out of everyone here, you were the only person not regularly getting some--"
"--my Jane is still in New Mexico," Thor reminds everyone, and as he does this almost every morning, it's roundly ignored.
"JARVIS, check the security feeds for last night," Tony orders. "Send anything relevant to my phone."
"Yes, sir," JARVIS says. "Sending footage now, although I would like to point out that this is highly inappropriate."
"Whatever, heard it before," Tony says, and glances down at the phone he's thankfully puts on mute. "Doctor Bruce Banner, you sly dog."
"Darcy and I have been dating for weeks," Bruce says, "in my defense-- and please, please delete that off your phone, I don't want to think about what you're going to do with it--"
"If it ends up on the internet I'll take you down," Natasha says, and when Tony sends her a wary, questioning glance, she shrugs. "I like Darcy more than you, Stark, that's for sure."
"Wait." Clint flips another pancake neatly onto a nearby plate. "So this curse doesn't exist?"
"Apparently not," Tony says, and holds up his phone. "I've got the evidence here in my hot little hand."
Clint throws a chocolate chip at it and manages to knock it out of Tony's grip, then turns off the griddle. Wordlessly and silently, he and Natasha leave the room.
"...huh," Tony says. "Think they have a secret code or something? Eye signals, perhaps?"
"We're not friends anymore," Bruce responds, and then gets up. "Go find Steve, we're all sick of hearing him hum 'Under the Sea'."
"Saved and noted," Tony says and leaves, picking up his phone from the floor on the way.
-
Brother, Thor types, I thought I would inform you that your practical joke did not have the intended effects.
How did you get this number? comes after forty minutes and Thor beams, joyous.
"A response!" he says to the empty room. "Now that I have made contact, I think I will experiment with emoticons next!"
rating: nc-17
words: ~3000
summary: There's a minor explosion, and a lot of pink light, and then Loki pops into view, cackling evilly. And they're all thoroughly unimpressed, except for what happens after. Tony's hand slips into Steve, and it's an unconscious gesture, his thumb stroking over the inside of Cap's wrist, and Loki says, "I wouldn't go much further than that if I were you, Iron Man."
Loki curses the Avengers so that if they have sex, they die. Cue minor chaos, Thor learning ballet, crème brûlée, and lots and lots of sexual frustration.
notes: written for avengerkink
"I'm sorry," Tony says, "but if this was supposed to be funny-- and I can see where we might be coming from with that, since your brother is the god of mischief et al, but this is not funny."
Thor shrugs peaceably, and Darcy wants to punch him in the face. Despite her taser-happy history regarding certain Asgardians, she isn't a violent person, not really. But right now--
"Jane is conducting research experiments in the southwest. I am not bothered," he responds. That big happy-go-lucky asshole, Darcy concludes, and goes off to watch any episode of True Blood where Eric Northman is naked.
-
It happens like this. They're eating dinner-- it's Clint's turn to cook, and he makes the best goddamn zucchini-parmesan fritters known to mankind, plus he always makes dessert-- and then there's a minor explosion, and a lot of pink light, and then Loki pops into view, cackling evilly. And they're all thoroughly unimpressed, except for what happens after. Tony's hand slips into Steve, and it's an unconscious gesture, his thumb stroking over the inside of Cap's wrist, and Loki says, "I wouldn't go much further than that if I were you, Iron Man."
He disappears with a leer, and Thor is left to explain his brother's history of jolly pranks, the words oh fuck essentially personified on his features.
-
"I spent seventy dollars on lace underwear," Darcy says mournfully. Bruce, sitting beside her, shifts uncomfortably.
"Maybe don't mention that right now," he suggests, his face flushing, and all Darcy wants is to climb him like a tree. She settles for kissing him, and two weeks ago being able to do even that would have thrilled her, but in the current situation it just blows, and not in a fun way.
She's about to say that out loud, but Bruce's hand skims along the waistband of her jeans, dipping to trace over the jut of her hip.
"Seventy dollars," Darcy reminds him. "I got a matching set in dark red and it comes with garters," and Bruce responds by tugging off her shirt, even though her bra is something cheap from Target that's yellow with frogs printed on it, don't judge.
They keep their pants on, though, because neither of them want to fucking die, and the next time Loki pops up, Darcy's like ninety-five percent sure that Bruce is going to Hulk out and swing him around by his weird-ass antlers until the spell is removed or Loki flies off into the stratosphere.
-
"I'm not sparring with you again," Clint pants, "Tasha, I have had enough, I want to be able to use my legs again today--"
"I'm bored," Natasha says, "and I'd get Steve to do it with me but all he's doing is watching movies with Tony--"
"--yeah, well, he was a virgin for like ninety years, he's probably had plenty of practice with sexual frustration--"
"--and I can't sit still," she concludes. "If you don't want to spar, you could try to teach me to shoot a bow and arrow again."
"Hell no," Clint says, vehement. "I am not that crazy, and by the way, I don't want any more scars right now, thanks."
"Your loss," Natasha says, and goes to shower.
-
"No," Tony says, "we're watching Tangled next."
"But I want to see Mulan again," Steve says reasonably. "I liked the music."
"Tangled is fucking badass," Tony insists. "Seriously, I watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy with you straight through yesterday, you gotta give me this one."
Fuck Loki. It's still quality time with his boyfriend, okay?
And Steve is really good at cuddling, so-- yeah. There. As long as no one else knows. Even though he's pretty sure that everyone does.
-
The Post has a field day with the photo of Thor taking a ballet class, two heads taller and hair prettier than anyone else in the room.
"They were founded by Alexander Hamilton," Tony notes. "And this is on the cover. Sad."
"It's also on Gothamist," Clint calls from the next room. "And NYMag's Daily Intel."
"And the Metro Section of the Times," Natasha says. "Slow news day."
"This is why I do yoga in private," Bruce says, and shrugs.
Thor does a grand jete and crashes into the wall.
-
Eventually, though, even Steve gets tired of watching Disney movies.
"It's been three weeks," he says, "and I don't care that it's summer and all villians are hiding in their air-conditioned lairs, enough is enough. Get ahold of your brother, Thor."
Thor looks up from his phone, specially customized by Tony to withstand most forms of concussive force. "I am trying," he says. "Loki is not answering his texts."
"...did you call him?" Clint asks, after they all take a minute to process that.
"Of course." Thor sounds slightly offended. "But I keep getting his voicemail."
-
"Bruce keeps trying to get me to meditate with him," Darcy says. "Help me, Agent Romanov, you're my only hope."
Natasha's answering grin is more than a little terrifying. "Clint's locked himself in the kitchen with the complete works of Julia Child, a mini-blowtorch, and about six dozen eggs. Want to learn how to throw a punch?"
"Yes," Darcy says, with feeling, and goes to change out of jean shorts and into a sports bra.
She ends up with some impressive bruises, and when she goes to find Bruce with the aloe balm he covers his eyes and mutters "I can't do this," as she pulls up her shirt, groaning; Darcy goes to find Tony to see if he can run that Loki tracking program for the fifth time that day.
After he does to no avail, Natasha demonstrates the most efficient way to pick locks.
-
"Okay," Tony says, running down a mental list of restaurants, "have you tried Ethiopian food yet? Cause I know a guy, seriously, it's gonna blow your mind."
"I miss having sex," Steve says. Tony blinks.
"But I thought you were okay, you have like, decades of denying yourself to pull from! I mean, we could go to a concert, there's a free one on Governor's Island, we could do that instead."
"Yeah," Steve says, "you go from decades not having sex to having it, it's like you're Charlie Brown, you keep trying to get the football, and then when you do it just gets cruelly snatched away from you by a god with the worst-observed case of sibling rivalry in the universe."
"Thor is fine," Tony observes. "I think he's trying belly dancing today, he got himself one of those ten-class discounts."
Steve practically growls, which, whoa is hot, thankyouverymuch, and Tony wants to touch him now, wants to grab him and kiss him and pull off his stupid white undershirt; he touches Steve's wrist and Steve threads his fingers through Tony's hair, their lips meet and it's basically the filthiest kiss ever, god--
"I don't want to die," Steve says, "not like this-- let's go to that concert after all, it'll be fun."
"Yeah," Tony says with a sigh, "okay then," and calls up Happy.
-
"Maybe creme brulee next?" Clint taps an arrow thoughtfully against the table. "Or should I try a flan?"
Natasha looks over the table, spread with mixing bowls and measuring cups and cookbooks, as well as several egg cartons. "Did you buy out the grocery's whole supply of eggs?"
"Hard to say," Clint responds. "How do you feel about panna cotta? I got some vanilla beans, and I could make strawberry sorbet."
Natasha stretches, cat-like, and then hops onto the counter. "I could go for that. I mean, the cookies will be gone as soon as Thor and Steve get home, so--"
"This is just for us," Clint promises. "Pass me the heavy cream?"
She tosses it to him; he catches it without even looking.
-
"Like, if he asks me to meditate with him again, I am going to explode," Darcy says. "This is bullshit, Thor, we just started dating and I can't even fuck him into next Tuesday, you know? Meditation is not the type of couples' bonding time that I'm looking for. He keeps saying we can make out, and we do, but then one of us ends up without pants and he blushes and mutters something and goes to chill in downward dog until he cools down. And like, your brother is harshing my buzz. Obviously no one wants to die, but I am deprived here."
"I am very happy for you and Dr. Banner," Thor says, after a moment. He's on his eighteenth cookie. "Am I the first to know?"
Darcy props her hand on her chin. "Yeah, don't tell anyone else. Bruce has a thing."
"Of course. I shall be the picture of discretion." He wipes crumbs off his upper lip. "If meditation is not what you seek, perhaps you would like to come with me to zumba?"
"Jane's on Skype if you want to talk to her," Darcy says, and stomps off.
"Spells like this one wear off eventually!" Thor shouts after her, and drinks half a glass of milk in one gulp.
-
That kindasorta gives Darcy an idea.
-
"I liked the concert," Steve says, "but please, let's not go to the ballet again." Coppelia was long, and he just knows that if he fell asleep there would be pictures on the internet. Tony had no such hang-ups and dozed off after thirty minutes, leaving Steve to sit stiffly and poke Tony whenever he started to drool.
"Yeah, no, I'm totally with you there," Tony agrees. "Not one of my better ideas, I'll try harder next time," and he grabs Steve's ass for good measure.
Cap doesn't even blush, dammit.
-
"Thor said that spells like this wear off eventually," Darcy says, walking purposefully into Bruce's room. He looks up at her from a half-moon pose. "So I had a thought."
"Yes?" Bruce looks wry, and he's also shirtless-- it's warm in his room-- and ugh, Darcy just wants to get her hands on him like, yesterday. He comes to standing, breathing in deeply.
"We have sex," she says. "And if either of us begins to feel like incoming death, then we stop."
"Darcy--" Bruce begins, and he looks hesitant, so Darcy goes to plan B: pulls off her tank top so that she's only in a sports bra, and walks her hands down until she's a full backbend. She can feel Bruce's eyes on her, tracing the arch and curve of her spine, probably calculating the effects of gravity on her breasts, and she smirks.
"It has been almost a month," she says, lowering herself onto the floor and kicking up into a shoulder stand, "and we're together and you're hot and I want it bad. Steve and Tony might be fine skipping around holding hands and giggling like little schoolboys, and Clint and Natasha might be fine beating the shit out of one another for funsies--"
"--they're cooking together, actually--"
"--but I would like to have sex before it's fucking October, do you hear me?"
"Yeah," Bruce says, and he's watching her chest heave up and down with each breath she takes; score one for the boobs. "Yeah, I hear you."
He steps closer to her so that they're eye to eye, practically, and grasps her shoulders. "Darcy, I hope you didn't think-- of course I want you, jesus, you don't know how much. Why do you-- I don't normally do this much yoga, ever, it's not a normal occurence in my life but you're distracting--"
"Natasha taught me how to fight before Clint seduced her away with his blowtorch and promises of creme brulee," Darcy says, watching the shape his mouth makes. She reaches out and traces the line of his jaw. "I thought--"
"I'm just as pissed about Loki as you are," Bruce says, and then he kisses her. And they've kissed before, they've been kissing a lot, but this has an undercurrent of need in it that makes her shiver, makes a thrill go up her spine.
Before she knows it she's horizontal on the yoga mat and Bruce has somehow figured out the clasp to her sports bra, which is insanely impressive considering it's a bra clasp covered by a velcro thing, and he's pulling it off.
"Very convenient that you're-- shirtless--" Darcy pants, and Bruce grins down at her, kneeling to join her on the mat. They kiss and it feels like forever, it's messy and his mouth is hot against hers, a second later and his fingers are hooked in the waistband of her shorts. He slides them off her legs and Darcy mutters "you next," and there go his sweatpants. She's in her red lace thong, she was planning ahead, and Bruce says, "seventy dollars for this scrap of fabric?" sounding almost disapproving.
"Wait til I wear it with the bra, you'll get the full effect," Darcy says, "but seriously, we can talk about the price of underwear later, there isn't enough nudity going on here."
"I don't mind it," Bruce begins, but she sits up and shimmies out of the lace, flicks it away with her foot. Bruce is wearing Hulk boxers, which is hilarious and probably Tony's fault somehow, but he's visibly aroused and that is-- less funny, but just as excellent, Darcy decides.
"These need to go," she says, and when they're gone she leans forwards and take him into her mouth; Bruce gasps and bucks up into her, his hands tightening in her hair.
"Give a guy some warning," he says, and laughs, but there's a jagged edge to it as Darcy runs her tongue up the underside of his dick and wraps her hand around the shaft, then sucks on the head. "Jesus, get up here--" and he pulls her in for a kiss, settling her in his lap. His hands move restlessly up and down her sides, on the side of ticklish, and Darcy wiggles. His fingers trail across her stomach and then dip down, finding her folds. His other hand palms her breast and then cups it, thumb stroking over her nipple.
She's rocking against his fingers, finding a rhythm that suits her and her face is buried against his collarbone, breath hot against his neck.
"Don't feel like dying?" Bruce asks and Darcy fervently shakes her head no, rolling her hips. She fumbles a little until she finds his cock, taking him in hand.
"I'm going to-- I want you now," she says finally. She'd brought a condom with her, just in case, and Bruce finds it, tearing it open with his teeth and then puts it on, right in time. Darcy lowers herself onto him and sighs.
It's fantastic, and she tells him so as they roll so she's on her back and he pushes into her, setting a pace that she can tell will be just slow enough to make her scream, wind tension through her body like the taut strings on a violin; the heel of his hand grinds against her clit and she moans.
"We're alive," Bruce says, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips.
"How 'bout that," Darcy responds, and comes, biting into his shoulder. He manages a couple more strokes and then follows moments later, rhythm becoming erratic, finishing with a moan deep in his throat, and then rolls off of her with a sigh and a kiss to the top of her breast, light and sweet.
"Think we should tell the others?"
-
"Hey," Bruce says the next morning, reaching for the syrup (breakfast is apple pancakes, courtesy of Clint). "I'm pretty sure that Loki's spell wasn't real. He was just fucking with our heads."
"It is possible," Thor decrees, looking up from his bacon. "How would you know, my large green friend?"
"Normal-sized and skin-colored right now," Bruce says. "And-- well. Let's say it was experimentation."
Tony's head snaps up like a dog on the trail of a scent. "Banner," he says, "I thought that out of everyone here, you were the only person not regularly getting some--"
"--my Jane is still in New Mexico," Thor reminds everyone, and as he does this almost every morning, it's roundly ignored.
"JARVIS, check the security feeds for last night," Tony orders. "Send anything relevant to my phone."
"Yes, sir," JARVIS says. "Sending footage now, although I would like to point out that this is highly inappropriate."
"Whatever, heard it before," Tony says, and glances down at the phone he's thankfully puts on mute. "Doctor Bruce Banner, you sly dog."
"Darcy and I have been dating for weeks," Bruce says, "in my defense-- and please, please delete that off your phone, I don't want to think about what you're going to do with it--"
"If it ends up on the internet I'll take you down," Natasha says, and when Tony sends her a wary, questioning glance, she shrugs. "I like Darcy more than you, Stark, that's for sure."
"Wait." Clint flips another pancake neatly onto a nearby plate. "So this curse doesn't exist?"
"Apparently not," Tony says, and holds up his phone. "I've got the evidence here in my hot little hand."
Clint throws a chocolate chip at it and manages to knock it out of Tony's grip, then turns off the griddle. Wordlessly and silently, he and Natasha leave the room.
"...huh," Tony says. "Think they have a secret code or something? Eye signals, perhaps?"
"We're not friends anymore," Bruce responds, and then gets up. "Go find Steve, we're all sick of hearing him hum 'Under the Sea'."
"Saved and noted," Tony says and leaves, picking up his phone from the floor on the way.
-
Brother, Thor types, I thought I would inform you that your practical joke did not have the intended effects.
How did you get this number? comes after forty minutes and Thor beams, joyous.
"A response!" he says to the empty room. "Now that I have made contact, I think I will experiment with emoticons next!"