Fic: All Reason Aside, I Just Can't Deny (Loki/Darcy, NC-17) 2/2
Title: All Reason Aside, I Just Can't Deny
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Darcy
Summary: Darcy actually likes being an omega! She's just a cynic about the soulmate thing, but statistically speaking, she's never going to find hers, so who cares? As for Loki, the disturbing thought that he could be inadvertently bonded with a mortal from the very planet he wants to conquer never crossed his mind, but if asked, he would claim it was impossible. Unfortunately for both of them, they're completely wrong.
Content Notes: A/B/O dynamics (including: knotting, soulbonding, mild D/s, heat cycles), consent issues (mutual dub-con as happens in heat-driven sex)
Word Count: 11258 total; this part 4110
Author's Notes: There are some A/B/O fics that thoughtfully examine, analyze, and subvert the trope. This is not one of them. This is, in fact, slightly cracky idfic with a healthy dose of het knotting porn, and I hope it is delicious. Also, the Asgardians in this 'verse use the words Ascendant/Mediant/Abject in place of Alpha/Beta/Omega, because apparently my suspension of belief breaks when Norse gods use Greek terms.
If you're unfamiliar with what A/B/O fic is, a good primer can be found here.
Part 1
III.
Her alarm goes off, and Darcy wakes up alone. Her sheets stink of sweat and sex, and she's sore in all the right places. Most importantly, she's not in heat anymore. She rolls to the side to grab her phone, and sees it laying halfway across the room, the display lit up mournfully. So she has a few messages, huh? That should be motivation to get out of bed. Unsurprisingly, Darcy doesn't. She flops back down, flings her arm over her face, and tries not to freak out about the past day and a half.
She should report this to S.H.I.E.L.D. She really needs to; this isn't about her and her alpha, this is about world security. Loki's a threat. Loki is evil, for fuck's sake. He'd threatened to kill her.
And in the middle of a delirious bout of orgasms, he'd told her he loved her.
Well, sure he would, he's the god of lies. Darcy knows that. She also knows the same instinct that makes alphas protect their omegas can compel an omega to blindly trust their alpha, even if that alpha isn't such a good person, like, oh, a supervillain. But omegas aren't idiots who'll do anything for love, Darcy doesn't believe that soulmates means anything but complementary chemistry, and she does believe in mind over matter.
She means to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. She really, really does. But when she goes into work, it's one thing after another, the work gossips and the paparazzi (which Darcy really should have expected, since Loki decided to claim her on a public street, like he thought that was a great idea or something), and somehow, she never does.
But it's not like he's going to come back. Darcy's pretty sure he'll figure out how to turn off the bond right away; he definitely wasn't excited about being there in the first place, and what good is magic if you can't fix something as simple as this?
So, back to work, back to normalcy, and S.H.I.E.L.D. shuts down the paparazzi by pointing them to other things, like the sordid, celebrity-studded, and probably totally false saga of Tony Stark's love life, and a few days later, the kraken in the harbor.
Days pass without anything else bizarre happening. (Well, besides the kraken, but that's not going to shock New Yorkers, come on.) The other folks she works with do tend to give her weird looks around the metaphorical water cooler, thanks to the rumor mill running rampant, but Lee Anne, still pretending to be a data monkey, glares them away. ("Is this some alpha bullshit or something?" Darcy had demanded. Lee Anne had snapped back, "No, this is some friend bullshit, Darcy.") So Darcy keeps on keeping on, processing Jane's data, fending off Jane's worried phone calls, and eating a little more Häagan-Dazs than is strictly necessary. She steadfastly refuses to think about Loki, about how she's probably breaking all sorts of laws by not telling S.H.I.E.L.D. that he came for her, or how a traitorous part of her hopes he'll come back. No, she doesn't think about any of that. There are loads of hot alphas and betas for her to channel her sexual frustration towards in the meantime.
(Except she's forgotten everything about Heather Cortez or any other person she's slept with in favor of fantasizing about Loki, his fingers and his teeth and the way he crushed her against the wall and the bed and how he grabbed her throat like he owned her and he knew it, and oh, Darcy liked it.)
Those days blend into a month, and all of Darcy but that stupid, sex-addled part she refuses to listen to is relieved beyond relief when all that happens at that time of the month is the same twitchy feeling she always gets with her suppressants. Okay, maybe it's a little worse than normal, but there's nothing else, no insanely hot demigods coming for her, so slowly, incrementally, she begins to relax.
. . .
Six months later, and Darcy can definitely say that things are getting weird again.
Her heats are bad and getting worse, for one. She's not on her usual twenty-day cycle anymore, ending up closer to one heat every other week. Meaning that she's stuck in a hormone-dazed spiral of feverishness and discomfort for at least two days twice a month, making her all but useless at work and totally unhappy everywhere else, and to top it all off, her suppressants aren't really doing their job, either, courtesy of Loki's freaky space pheromones screwing with her body. And she's been having dreams. Dreams like the one she'd had right before Loki popped into her room and proceeded to blow her mind in the sexiest and creepiest ways possible, except these feel so real she's sometimes surprised to wake up without bruises.
Sitting on the subway on the way home from work, Darcy finds herself pressing her fingers into her thighs where marks from Loki's fingers would have been, had he actually been in her bed last night. It's that time of the month again - the second time of the month, which is just great - and she'd waited until 2 a.m. to board the train, counting on the late hour to give her an empty car. Well, there are a few other people in here, but she's pretty sure they're betas, since they aren't reacting at all to the flood of pheromones Darcy's drenched in. So not only did she manage to finish all the work she's going to miss over the next few days while she waited at the office, but there won't be any asshole alphas on this ride, either. Score! At least something went right today.
"Darcy: 1. Heat cycle: 0," she mutters to herself as she slips her earbuds on, putting her iPod on shuffle and turning up the bass. Letting her head thunk against the window, she sighs, and closes her eyes.
The hum of the train is nice, a steady vibration under her that walks the line between soothing and arousing, which is exactly what Darcy needs right now to keep herself in check. Mounting strangers on the F-train is not exactly the proper behavior of a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, data monkey or not. Or of a decent human being, for that matter. Unless they want it, too, and right now, Darcy could totally go for some nice beta cock or fingers or tongue, whatever they feel like giving her, until she can get home and dig out her dildos and really go for a ride…
Suddenly, Darcy realizes she's squirming on the seat, clenching her thighs together and trying to get the seam of her pants to rub her in just the right place. She freezes as soon as she realizes what she's doing, and quickly glances to her left to make sure the betas on the other side of the car haven't noticed. It doesn't look like they have, so Darcy heaves a sigh of relief, and turns to face front again.
And screeches when she comes face to face with Loki, all dressed up in his armor and sitting on the bench seat as if he belongs there, like evil Norse gods take the subway home all the damn time. (Well, for all she knows, he does. Just because she's never seen him here…)
"Ma'am?" one of the betas asks her, concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"
"I - " Her jaw works, and she yanks out her earbuds. There's a supervillain sitting right there! "I mean, I - "
"To them, you're alone," Loki informs her with a sneaky little smirk on his face. Oh.
"Yeah," she says with forced enthusiasm to the beta. "Yeah, I'm fine - just fell asleep, had a dream, you know how it is."
The beta subsides, and Loki says, his voice laden with disdain, "You human Abjects certainly go into heat frequently. I wonder how you manage at all."
Darcy opens her mouth to retort, then remembers that she's having a conversation with an invisible man. Hastily, she digs her cell phone out of her bag and holds it to her ear, glaring balefully at Loki the entire time. He just stares at her, a penetrating look that verges on a glare but ends up more in the territory of thoughtful. Darcy really isn't a fan. Darcy also wants to drop to her knees in front of him and suck her alpha's cock like a good omega.
This confrontation isn't going to go well for her, is it?
"We do all right," she says defensively, silently yelling at her lizard brain to shut the hell up. "And frankly, it was a lot easier for me before you came to town."
Loki's lips thin, and he snaps, "I assure you, had I a choice, I would never have debased myself with the likes of you."
"Debased - wow, buddy, are you trying to get tasered? Because I don't think even a god can shake off 50,000 volts in the face!"
Loki is looking at her with the strangest expression, half-incredulous and half-amused. "Are you threatening me, Darcy? You?"
"Yes, I am," she says, holding her chin up and curling her fingers around her taser, tucked away in her bag. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"
Loki stares at her for another few second, still as can be, during which Darcy's grip on the taser loosens minutely, then suddenly he's right next to her, looming over her with one arm wrapped around her shoulders.
"Whoa!" Darcy yelps, and drops both her phone and taser. God, she'd forgotten how he smells, that stupefying scent that makes her knees wobbly and and slams her hormones into overdrive. She tries to lean away from him and ends up just pressing closer against him, tipping her head back against his shoulder and baring her neck to him. "Oh, this is so not cool, fuck."
The other passengers are making alarmed noises and standing up in surprise, but Loki flicks his hand at them and they fall to the floor in a dead faint. Since one of them is snoring, Darcy doesn't think she needs to worry, which is good because Loki just nibbled on her ear and made her mind derail completely. The world is lucky she's not a superhero.
"I am going to do nothing about it," Loki murmurs, and she's not imagining the anger laced through his tone. "As you know very well. I couldn't harm you if I tried."
His grip on her shoulder changes, and he grabs her jaw to force her to face him, his eyes burning a hectic blue-green.
"I hope you appreciate just - " He punctuates this with a kiss, and Darcy flails a little, incapable of either pulling him close or pushing him away. " - how - " This time, Darcy drags him to her by one of the zillion straps on his jacket, and Loki kisses her deeply, intensely, before pulling back and finishing, " - very lucky you are."
Like an idiot, Darcy says, "I didn't turn you in to S.H.I.E.L.D."
On the other hand, that actually makes Loki jerk back in surprise, which isn't something she'd ever thought she'd see, so maybe it was worth it, stupid or not.
"You didn't?" he asks, and he sounds confused and so weirdly human that Darcy just has to kiss him again, this time managing to crawl into his lap. Her glasses get in the way, and he takes them off with nimble fingers and drops them carelessly to the side. Oh well. At least she's not totally blind without them.
"No," she breathes, and rocks her hips against him. A snippet of something he'd said to her before flies through her head - does it give you some illusion of control? - and okay, he actually has a point there. Because if there's one thing she doesn't have when it comes to Loki, that's control. "No, I didn't."
"Why?" He unbuttons her office slacks and slips his hand between her legs, and she moans embarrassingly loudly and any paltry resistance she was putting up crumbles. His hand is still outside her underwear, but she's rutting up against him and panting anyway. God, she is royally screwed, and not in the good way. (Maybe in the good way.) "Darcy, tell me why."
That note of command in his voice makes her obey like nothing else could, and she tilts her head up and kisses his chin.
"You're my alpha," she says simply. Loki just blinks at her, and again, it's so weird to see him off-balance at all, and knowing it's because of her is…well, it's pretty cool, and a little endearing. "Kvetch all you want, but you aren't the only one made to feel things you don't want to feel."
"I suppose I'm not," Loki says thoughtfully, and pushes the cotton of her underwear completely aside so he can find her clit with two fingers and play with it until she's squirming and gasping brokenly into his shoulder. He's toying with her, and she claws at his chest and whimpers, but her body can only hold out so long, and right before she comes he pulls away - literally, right before it, the wave was starting before he stopped it so rudely. It's probably a good thing for her reputation as a smart-ass, though; there are only so many variations on "You fucking tease!" she can come up with without a dictionary, and repeating herself just sounds stupid.
"Enjoying yourself?" Loki asks her, and the universe is really unfair if he's half as composed as he sounds. Darcy huffs a sigh and smacks her forehead against his shoulder.
"This is so not fair," she groans. "Are you even affected, like, at all, or is it just me?"
She feels him swallow, and his fingers on her hips flex, digging deep into her skin, before he draws her closer, pressing her flush against him and making her straddle his hips, and - oh. Well. That answers that question.
"Never mind," she squeaks, and turns her head to press his face against his neck, breathing him in. Instinctively, she rocks her hips, and her eyes flutter shut at the friction. "You're a really good actor, you know that?"
"Darcy." Now Loki's voice is a growl, and without really thinking, Darcy leans back and strips off her shirt to leave only her lacy, barely-there camisole and her bra, obeying his unsaid command. He makes a little choking noise in this throat, and says hoarsely, "That wasn't what I was going to suggest."
"Oh," Darcy says, finding it damn near impossible to care. "Well, I think it's a good idea, so if we could maybe…"
This time, she feels her clothes vanish, Loki's magic dancing over her skin like little sparks of static electricity. It feels good, way more than makes sense, and Darcy says out loud, "Wow, I could get used to that."
"You will," Loki promises, all hesitation gone and his voice dark (like chocolate, Darcy thinks inanely). "Darcy, kneel. I think I would like to see how deep your throat is."
"Oh my fucking god," Darcy says, or some garbled version of it, and drops to her knees like there's a prize waiting for her on the subway floor. Loki's hands are shaking as he unlaces and unbuttons and does whatever else he has to do to get his dick out (Asgardian clothes are seriously impractical), and then it's out and it looks delicious, so Darcy leans forward and licks around the head of his cock like it's a popsicle. Hey, it's a cliché for a reason. And it makes Loki say something that sounds suspiciously like her name mixed in with some good old-fashioned swearing, so even if she wasn't loving every second of this and so horny her thighs are wet, she'd count it as a win.
Normally, she'd take her time, give Loki the blowjob of a lifetime and show him why her dick-sucking skills were renowned far and wide throughout the small clique she'd hung out with in college, but Loki twists her hair in his hands and directs her head where he wants her to go, and he really does want to go deep. His hips jerk forward and completely fill Darcy's mouth with his cock, her lips stretching around it, and when he pushes her head down she chokes, saliva filling her mouth. Loki pauses just enough for her to get her gag reflex under control, then shifts a little, bracing his feet on the floor so he can fuck her mouth properly - and he does, he fucks Darcy's mouth and just takes her like it's his due, and Darcy gags and bobs her head and grabs his thighs for balance. There are tears in her eyes from his cock smacking the back of her throat, and she adores it, wants it harder, and Loki must sense that because he knots his fingers in her hair and lets her be still so he can take what he pleases, utterly remorseless, and Darcy is humming and moaning and on her knees for her alpha and she loves him, fuck, she loves him.
Suddenly Loki lets go, but Darcy keeps moving, wanting every inch of him inside her, and she doesn't stop until he pushes her back, sending her sprawling.
"Unless you particularly want me to knot your mouth," he explains at her stricken look, and clears his throat. He's flushed red and the collar of his getup is undone, baring a tantalizing glimpse of his throat and collarbone. Darcy kind of wants to kiss him there.
"Yeah," she says belatedly, tearing her eyes from his throat to look at his face. "Yeah, no, that'd be bad. TMJ."
His brow crinkles like he's trying to figure out what that means, but he must decide there's more important things going on (obviously), and gestures for her to come back up. She clambers onto the seat and presses herself to his side, nuzzling his jaw.
"Did I - " do good? the sentence finishes, but she really doesn't want to sound that needy, so she stutters, and says instead, "Did you like that?"
"I did," he says, and that hitch in his breath plus the praise makes her shiver and go warm all over. "Now, come here," and he grabs her roughly and flips her around so she's on her hands and knees, her ass toward him and the steel armrest of the bench in front of her.
"Are you gonna fuck me?" she asks, going all high-pitched.
"Would you like me to?" he purrs, and she whimpers, thrusting her hips toward him like that can make him move faster.
"Yes," she moans, "yes, yes, please, Loki."
Something about the way she says his name makes him shudder, and just like that he shoves himself inside her. Since she'd spent all her time getting him revved up, he's going way harder and faster than she usually likes it, but when she's in heat she needs something totally different, she needs to have it hurt just a little and to be fucked by an alpha - by Loki, her Loki, just like she's his and oh, oh -
Darcy shrieks and grabs blindly at the armrest when he comes, the swelling of his knot pushing her over the edge into something that's almost an orgasm but not quite, a little too intense and painful in the best way possible, and Loki slumps over her, biting mindlessly at her back and shoulders while he quivers, his hips jolting against her as he comes again and again.
And that is when, in the most inconveniently-timed metaphor possible in the universe, the train pulls into the station, and the doors slide open to give what looks like half of New York a nice eyeful of Darcy Lewis and Loki-the-supervillain tied together in bonded bliss. Or would have, anyway, but Loki? Well, he can teleport.
Sucks for the pervs of New York.
. . .
Gods rarely sleep. Most enjoy it, true, but they are capable of going weeks and months without. Loki never has been much for rest, usually preferring to spend his time in the library or, as he grew older, searching for magical artifacts, and he'd lost the habit years ago. Darcy, on the other hand, seems to sleep all the time, even more than average mortals. It cannot be illness - Loki would have noticed by now - nor does she seem particularly lazy, though Loki is being generous with his definition.
Darcy snuffles in her sleep and nestles closer to his side; Loki rolls his eyes, and though he tries to prevent it, a fond smile creeps across his lips.
"This is absurd," he says in halfhearted annoyance to the empty room. Lust is tolerable, bonding is an unhappy necessity, but Loki never wanted to like the woman. His pheromones, however, seem to think otherwise.
Absentmindedly, Loki flicks a lock of her hair out of his mouth, and tightens his grip on her minutely. It could be worse, he supposes. At least she has never directly tried to kill him, nor he her, as far as he could remember. Loki has had affairs with more inauspicious beginnings.
The fact remains, however, that her friends and colleagues do have an unfortunate habit of getting in his way; he has made no friends here, least of all with them. A burst of rage flares inside him, and it takes him several minutes to tamp it down, his breathing ragged, jaw clenched, and his eyes smarting with fury. At his side, Darcy shifts, responding perhaps to the sudden tension in his body, and says his name in a drowsy mumble.
"Go to sleep," he orders quietly, and nudges her back into unconsciousness with a silent incantation. He needs to think, and Darcy is far too alluring awake for his mind to function properly.
As far as he can tell, he has two options: continue to slink in the shadows, returning to rut with Darcy once a month and hope no mortal heroes find him; or make peace with them the best he can, the better to see Darcy more frequently. His lip curls at the thought, but the desire is inevitable; they are bonded. He may dislike it, but he can do nothing about it - unless he manages to break the bond. Such a thing has no precedent, and is often claimed to be impossible, but Loki has always scoffed at such limitations. A compromise, then. Make peace with the motley bunch of heroes, and work on a way to sever their bond in the meantime. It is not a plan Loki particularly likes, but he will learn to cope.
"Loki?"
Shoving aside those thoughts quickly, Loki props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Darcy. She peers up at him, blinking sleepily. "Where are my glasses?"
Ah, her spectacles. Loki's lids fall half-shut, and he concentrates on the ugly little box in which he had found Darcy, picturing precisely where he had dropped them. In moments, they materialize in his hand, and he presents them to Darcy, who takes them with a smile. Without thinking, he smiles back.
She should not have this effect on him.
"Thanks," she says. "How're you?"
"Well enough," he answers. Already her scent drowns him, and Loki wonders dizzily if they will ever manage to make it through a coherent conversation. "And yourself?"
"I'm good." She looks contemplative for a moment, then smiles again, broadly. "This is totally weird, but you know, I'm really good."
Looping one long leg around his hips, Darcy pulls him on top of her, and curls her hand around the nape of his neck. Loki leans down and presses his lips to hers, soft, verging on gentle, though he cannot help but nip her bottom lip lightly. His chest feels bizarrely tight, and he cannot help but smile against her mouth, breathing her in. Oh, he is truly lost.
"I would think you'd be sore," he murmurs, and she laughs.
"Totally," she sighs, arching against him. "But I don't want to stop."
Loki slips his hand between their bodies, finding her sex and stroking it just to hear her gasp, and, unexpectedly, tells her no lie.
"Truly, Darcy," he whispers, "neither do I."
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Darcy
Summary: Darcy actually likes being an omega! She's just a cynic about the soulmate thing, but statistically speaking, she's never going to find hers, so who cares? As for Loki, the disturbing thought that he could be inadvertently bonded with a mortal from the very planet he wants to conquer never crossed his mind, but if asked, he would claim it was impossible. Unfortunately for both of them, they're completely wrong.
Content Notes: A/B/O dynamics (including: knotting, soulbonding, mild D/s, heat cycles), consent issues (mutual dub-con as happens in heat-driven sex)
Word Count: 11258 total; this part 4110
Author's Notes: There are some A/B/O fics that thoughtfully examine, analyze, and subvert the trope. This is not one of them. This is, in fact, slightly cracky idfic with a healthy dose of het knotting porn, and I hope it is delicious. Also, the Asgardians in this 'verse use the words Ascendant/Mediant/Abject in place of Alpha/Beta/Omega, because apparently my suspension of belief breaks when Norse gods use Greek terms.
If you're unfamiliar with what A/B/O fic is, a good primer can be found here.
Part 1
III.
Her alarm goes off, and Darcy wakes up alone. Her sheets stink of sweat and sex, and she's sore in all the right places. Most importantly, she's not in heat anymore. She rolls to the side to grab her phone, and sees it laying halfway across the room, the display lit up mournfully. So she has a few messages, huh? That should be motivation to get out of bed. Unsurprisingly, Darcy doesn't. She flops back down, flings her arm over her face, and tries not to freak out about the past day and a half.
She should report this to S.H.I.E.L.D. She really needs to; this isn't about her and her alpha, this is about world security. Loki's a threat. Loki is evil, for fuck's sake. He'd threatened to kill her.
And in the middle of a delirious bout of orgasms, he'd told her he loved her.
Well, sure he would, he's the god of lies. Darcy knows that. She also knows the same instinct that makes alphas protect their omegas can compel an omega to blindly trust their alpha, even if that alpha isn't such a good person, like, oh, a supervillain. But omegas aren't idiots who'll do anything for love, Darcy doesn't believe that soulmates means anything but complementary chemistry, and she does believe in mind over matter.
She means to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. She really, really does. But when she goes into work, it's one thing after another, the work gossips and the paparazzi (which Darcy really should have expected, since Loki decided to claim her on a public street, like he thought that was a great idea or something), and somehow, she never does.
But it's not like he's going to come back. Darcy's pretty sure he'll figure out how to turn off the bond right away; he definitely wasn't excited about being there in the first place, and what good is magic if you can't fix something as simple as this?
So, back to work, back to normalcy, and S.H.I.E.L.D. shuts down the paparazzi by pointing them to other things, like the sordid, celebrity-studded, and probably totally false saga of Tony Stark's love life, and a few days later, the kraken in the harbor.
Days pass without anything else bizarre happening. (Well, besides the kraken, but that's not going to shock New Yorkers, come on.) The other folks she works with do tend to give her weird looks around the metaphorical water cooler, thanks to the rumor mill running rampant, but Lee Anne, still pretending to be a data monkey, glares them away. ("Is this some alpha bullshit or something?" Darcy had demanded. Lee Anne had snapped back, "No, this is some friend bullshit, Darcy.") So Darcy keeps on keeping on, processing Jane's data, fending off Jane's worried phone calls, and eating a little more Häagan-Dazs than is strictly necessary. She steadfastly refuses to think about Loki, about how she's probably breaking all sorts of laws by not telling S.H.I.E.L.D. that he came for her, or how a traitorous part of her hopes he'll come back. No, she doesn't think about any of that. There are loads of hot alphas and betas for her to channel her sexual frustration towards in the meantime.
(Except she's forgotten everything about Heather Cortez or any other person she's slept with in favor of fantasizing about Loki, his fingers and his teeth and the way he crushed her against the wall and the bed and how he grabbed her throat like he owned her and he knew it, and oh, Darcy liked it.)
Those days blend into a month, and all of Darcy but that stupid, sex-addled part she refuses to listen to is relieved beyond relief when all that happens at that time of the month is the same twitchy feeling she always gets with her suppressants. Okay, maybe it's a little worse than normal, but there's nothing else, no insanely hot demigods coming for her, so slowly, incrementally, she begins to relax.
. . .
Six months later, and Darcy can definitely say that things are getting weird again.
Her heats are bad and getting worse, for one. She's not on her usual twenty-day cycle anymore, ending up closer to one heat every other week. Meaning that she's stuck in a hormone-dazed spiral of feverishness and discomfort for at least two days twice a month, making her all but useless at work and totally unhappy everywhere else, and to top it all off, her suppressants aren't really doing their job, either, courtesy of Loki's freaky space pheromones screwing with her body. And she's been having dreams. Dreams like the one she'd had right before Loki popped into her room and proceeded to blow her mind in the sexiest and creepiest ways possible, except these feel so real she's sometimes surprised to wake up without bruises.
Sitting on the subway on the way home from work, Darcy finds herself pressing her fingers into her thighs where marks from Loki's fingers would have been, had he actually been in her bed last night. It's that time of the month again - the second time of the month, which is just great - and she'd waited until 2 a.m. to board the train, counting on the late hour to give her an empty car. Well, there are a few other people in here, but she's pretty sure they're betas, since they aren't reacting at all to the flood of pheromones Darcy's drenched in. So not only did she manage to finish all the work she's going to miss over the next few days while she waited at the office, but there won't be any asshole alphas on this ride, either. Score! At least something went right today.
"Darcy: 1. Heat cycle: 0," she mutters to herself as she slips her earbuds on, putting her iPod on shuffle and turning up the bass. Letting her head thunk against the window, she sighs, and closes her eyes.
The hum of the train is nice, a steady vibration under her that walks the line between soothing and arousing, which is exactly what Darcy needs right now to keep herself in check. Mounting strangers on the F-train is not exactly the proper behavior of a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, data monkey or not. Or of a decent human being, for that matter. Unless they want it, too, and right now, Darcy could totally go for some nice beta cock or fingers or tongue, whatever they feel like giving her, until she can get home and dig out her dildos and really go for a ride…
Suddenly, Darcy realizes she's squirming on the seat, clenching her thighs together and trying to get the seam of her pants to rub her in just the right place. She freezes as soon as she realizes what she's doing, and quickly glances to her left to make sure the betas on the other side of the car haven't noticed. It doesn't look like they have, so Darcy heaves a sigh of relief, and turns to face front again.
And screeches when she comes face to face with Loki, all dressed up in his armor and sitting on the bench seat as if he belongs there, like evil Norse gods take the subway home all the damn time. (Well, for all she knows, he does. Just because she's never seen him here…)
"Ma'am?" one of the betas asks her, concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"
"I - " Her jaw works, and she yanks out her earbuds. There's a supervillain sitting right there! "I mean, I - "
"To them, you're alone," Loki informs her with a sneaky little smirk on his face. Oh.
"Yeah," she says with forced enthusiasm to the beta. "Yeah, I'm fine - just fell asleep, had a dream, you know how it is."
The beta subsides, and Loki says, his voice laden with disdain, "You human Abjects certainly go into heat frequently. I wonder how you manage at all."
Darcy opens her mouth to retort, then remembers that she's having a conversation with an invisible man. Hastily, she digs her cell phone out of her bag and holds it to her ear, glaring balefully at Loki the entire time. He just stares at her, a penetrating look that verges on a glare but ends up more in the territory of thoughtful. Darcy really isn't a fan. Darcy also wants to drop to her knees in front of him and suck her alpha's cock like a good omega.
This confrontation isn't going to go well for her, is it?
"We do all right," she says defensively, silently yelling at her lizard brain to shut the hell up. "And frankly, it was a lot easier for me before you came to town."
Loki's lips thin, and he snaps, "I assure you, had I a choice, I would never have debased myself with the likes of you."
"Debased - wow, buddy, are you trying to get tasered? Because I don't think even a god can shake off 50,000 volts in the face!"
Loki is looking at her with the strangest expression, half-incredulous and half-amused. "Are you threatening me, Darcy? You?"
"Yes, I am," she says, holding her chin up and curling her fingers around her taser, tucked away in her bag. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"
Loki stares at her for another few second, still as can be, during which Darcy's grip on the taser loosens minutely, then suddenly he's right next to her, looming over her with one arm wrapped around her shoulders.
"Whoa!" Darcy yelps, and drops both her phone and taser. God, she'd forgotten how he smells, that stupefying scent that makes her knees wobbly and and slams her hormones into overdrive. She tries to lean away from him and ends up just pressing closer against him, tipping her head back against his shoulder and baring her neck to him. "Oh, this is so not cool, fuck."
The other passengers are making alarmed noises and standing up in surprise, but Loki flicks his hand at them and they fall to the floor in a dead faint. Since one of them is snoring, Darcy doesn't think she needs to worry, which is good because Loki just nibbled on her ear and made her mind derail completely. The world is lucky she's not a superhero.
"I am going to do nothing about it," Loki murmurs, and she's not imagining the anger laced through his tone. "As you know very well. I couldn't harm you if I tried."
His grip on her shoulder changes, and he grabs her jaw to force her to face him, his eyes burning a hectic blue-green.
"I hope you appreciate just - " He punctuates this with a kiss, and Darcy flails a little, incapable of either pulling him close or pushing him away. " - how - " This time, Darcy drags him to her by one of the zillion straps on his jacket, and Loki kisses her deeply, intensely, before pulling back and finishing, " - very lucky you are."
Like an idiot, Darcy says, "I didn't turn you in to S.H.I.E.L.D."
On the other hand, that actually makes Loki jerk back in surprise, which isn't something she'd ever thought she'd see, so maybe it was worth it, stupid or not.
"You didn't?" he asks, and he sounds confused and so weirdly human that Darcy just has to kiss him again, this time managing to crawl into his lap. Her glasses get in the way, and he takes them off with nimble fingers and drops them carelessly to the side. Oh well. At least she's not totally blind without them.
"No," she breathes, and rocks her hips against him. A snippet of something he'd said to her before flies through her head - does it give you some illusion of control? - and okay, he actually has a point there. Because if there's one thing she doesn't have when it comes to Loki, that's control. "No, I didn't."
"Why?" He unbuttons her office slacks and slips his hand between her legs, and she moans embarrassingly loudly and any paltry resistance she was putting up crumbles. His hand is still outside her underwear, but she's rutting up against him and panting anyway. God, she is royally screwed, and not in the good way. (Maybe in the good way.) "Darcy, tell me why."
That note of command in his voice makes her obey like nothing else could, and she tilts her head up and kisses his chin.
"You're my alpha," she says simply. Loki just blinks at her, and again, it's so weird to see him off-balance at all, and knowing it's because of her is…well, it's pretty cool, and a little endearing. "Kvetch all you want, but you aren't the only one made to feel things you don't want to feel."
"I suppose I'm not," Loki says thoughtfully, and pushes the cotton of her underwear completely aside so he can find her clit with two fingers and play with it until she's squirming and gasping brokenly into his shoulder. He's toying with her, and she claws at his chest and whimpers, but her body can only hold out so long, and right before she comes he pulls away - literally, right before it, the wave was starting before he stopped it so rudely. It's probably a good thing for her reputation as a smart-ass, though; there are only so many variations on "You fucking tease!" she can come up with without a dictionary, and repeating herself just sounds stupid.
"Enjoying yourself?" Loki asks her, and the universe is really unfair if he's half as composed as he sounds. Darcy huffs a sigh and smacks her forehead against his shoulder.
"This is so not fair," she groans. "Are you even affected, like, at all, or is it just me?"
She feels him swallow, and his fingers on her hips flex, digging deep into her skin, before he draws her closer, pressing her flush against him and making her straddle his hips, and - oh. Well. That answers that question.
"Never mind," she squeaks, and turns her head to press his face against his neck, breathing him in. Instinctively, she rocks her hips, and her eyes flutter shut at the friction. "You're a really good actor, you know that?"
"Darcy." Now Loki's voice is a growl, and without really thinking, Darcy leans back and strips off her shirt to leave only her lacy, barely-there camisole and her bra, obeying his unsaid command. He makes a little choking noise in this throat, and says hoarsely, "That wasn't what I was going to suggest."
"Oh," Darcy says, finding it damn near impossible to care. "Well, I think it's a good idea, so if we could maybe…"
This time, she feels her clothes vanish, Loki's magic dancing over her skin like little sparks of static electricity. It feels good, way more than makes sense, and Darcy says out loud, "Wow, I could get used to that."
"You will," Loki promises, all hesitation gone and his voice dark (like chocolate, Darcy thinks inanely). "Darcy, kneel. I think I would like to see how deep your throat is."
"Oh my fucking god," Darcy says, or some garbled version of it, and drops to her knees like there's a prize waiting for her on the subway floor. Loki's hands are shaking as he unlaces and unbuttons and does whatever else he has to do to get his dick out (Asgardian clothes are seriously impractical), and then it's out and it looks delicious, so Darcy leans forward and licks around the head of his cock like it's a popsicle. Hey, it's a cliché for a reason. And it makes Loki say something that sounds suspiciously like her name mixed in with some good old-fashioned swearing, so even if she wasn't loving every second of this and so horny her thighs are wet, she'd count it as a win.
Normally, she'd take her time, give Loki the blowjob of a lifetime and show him why her dick-sucking skills were renowned far and wide throughout the small clique she'd hung out with in college, but Loki twists her hair in his hands and directs her head where he wants her to go, and he really does want to go deep. His hips jerk forward and completely fill Darcy's mouth with his cock, her lips stretching around it, and when he pushes her head down she chokes, saliva filling her mouth. Loki pauses just enough for her to get her gag reflex under control, then shifts a little, bracing his feet on the floor so he can fuck her mouth properly - and he does, he fucks Darcy's mouth and just takes her like it's his due, and Darcy gags and bobs her head and grabs his thighs for balance. There are tears in her eyes from his cock smacking the back of her throat, and she adores it, wants it harder, and Loki must sense that because he knots his fingers in her hair and lets her be still so he can take what he pleases, utterly remorseless, and Darcy is humming and moaning and on her knees for her alpha and she loves him, fuck, she loves him.
Suddenly Loki lets go, but Darcy keeps moving, wanting every inch of him inside her, and she doesn't stop until he pushes her back, sending her sprawling.
"Unless you particularly want me to knot your mouth," he explains at her stricken look, and clears his throat. He's flushed red and the collar of his getup is undone, baring a tantalizing glimpse of his throat and collarbone. Darcy kind of wants to kiss him there.
"Yeah," she says belatedly, tearing her eyes from his throat to look at his face. "Yeah, no, that'd be bad. TMJ."
His brow crinkles like he's trying to figure out what that means, but he must decide there's more important things going on (obviously), and gestures for her to come back up. She clambers onto the seat and presses herself to his side, nuzzling his jaw.
"Did I - " do good? the sentence finishes, but she really doesn't want to sound that needy, so she stutters, and says instead, "Did you like that?"
"I did," he says, and that hitch in his breath plus the praise makes her shiver and go warm all over. "Now, come here," and he grabs her roughly and flips her around so she's on her hands and knees, her ass toward him and the steel armrest of the bench in front of her.
"Are you gonna fuck me?" she asks, going all high-pitched.
"Would you like me to?" he purrs, and she whimpers, thrusting her hips toward him like that can make him move faster.
"Yes," she moans, "yes, yes, please, Loki."
Something about the way she says his name makes him shudder, and just like that he shoves himself inside her. Since she'd spent all her time getting him revved up, he's going way harder and faster than she usually likes it, but when she's in heat she needs something totally different, she needs to have it hurt just a little and to be fucked by an alpha - by Loki, her Loki, just like she's his and oh, oh -
Darcy shrieks and grabs blindly at the armrest when he comes, the swelling of his knot pushing her over the edge into something that's almost an orgasm but not quite, a little too intense and painful in the best way possible, and Loki slumps over her, biting mindlessly at her back and shoulders while he quivers, his hips jolting against her as he comes again and again.
And that is when, in the most inconveniently-timed metaphor possible in the universe, the train pulls into the station, and the doors slide open to give what looks like half of New York a nice eyeful of Darcy Lewis and Loki-the-supervillain tied together in bonded bliss. Or would have, anyway, but Loki? Well, he can teleport.
Sucks for the pervs of New York.
. . .
Gods rarely sleep. Most enjoy it, true, but they are capable of going weeks and months without. Loki never has been much for rest, usually preferring to spend his time in the library or, as he grew older, searching for magical artifacts, and he'd lost the habit years ago. Darcy, on the other hand, seems to sleep all the time, even more than average mortals. It cannot be illness - Loki would have noticed by now - nor does she seem particularly lazy, though Loki is being generous with his definition.
Darcy snuffles in her sleep and nestles closer to his side; Loki rolls his eyes, and though he tries to prevent it, a fond smile creeps across his lips.
"This is absurd," he says in halfhearted annoyance to the empty room. Lust is tolerable, bonding is an unhappy necessity, but Loki never wanted to like the woman. His pheromones, however, seem to think otherwise.
Absentmindedly, Loki flicks a lock of her hair out of his mouth, and tightens his grip on her minutely. It could be worse, he supposes. At least she has never directly tried to kill him, nor he her, as far as he could remember. Loki has had affairs with more inauspicious beginnings.
The fact remains, however, that her friends and colleagues do have an unfortunate habit of getting in his way; he has made no friends here, least of all with them. A burst of rage flares inside him, and it takes him several minutes to tamp it down, his breathing ragged, jaw clenched, and his eyes smarting with fury. At his side, Darcy shifts, responding perhaps to the sudden tension in his body, and says his name in a drowsy mumble.
"Go to sleep," he orders quietly, and nudges her back into unconsciousness with a silent incantation. He needs to think, and Darcy is far too alluring awake for his mind to function properly.
As far as he can tell, he has two options: continue to slink in the shadows, returning to rut with Darcy once a month and hope no mortal heroes find him; or make peace with them the best he can, the better to see Darcy more frequently. His lip curls at the thought, but the desire is inevitable; they are bonded. He may dislike it, but he can do nothing about it - unless he manages to break the bond. Such a thing has no precedent, and is often claimed to be impossible, but Loki has always scoffed at such limitations. A compromise, then. Make peace with the motley bunch of heroes, and work on a way to sever their bond in the meantime. It is not a plan Loki particularly likes, but he will learn to cope.
"Loki?"
Shoving aside those thoughts quickly, Loki props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Darcy. She peers up at him, blinking sleepily. "Where are my glasses?"
Ah, her spectacles. Loki's lids fall half-shut, and he concentrates on the ugly little box in which he had found Darcy, picturing precisely where he had dropped them. In moments, they materialize in his hand, and he presents them to Darcy, who takes them with a smile. Without thinking, he smiles back.
She should not have this effect on him.
"Thanks," she says. "How're you?"
"Well enough," he answers. Already her scent drowns him, and Loki wonders dizzily if they will ever manage to make it through a coherent conversation. "And yourself?"
"I'm good." She looks contemplative for a moment, then smiles again, broadly. "This is totally weird, but you know, I'm really good."
Looping one long leg around his hips, Darcy pulls him on top of her, and curls her hand around the nape of his neck. Loki leans down and presses his lips to hers, soft, verging on gentle, though he cannot help but nip her bottom lip lightly. His chest feels bizarrely tight, and he cannot help but smile against her mouth, breathing her in. Oh, he is truly lost.
"I would think you'd be sore," he murmurs, and she laughs.
"Totally," she sighs, arching against him. "But I don't want to stop."
Loki slips his hand between their bodies, finding her sex and stroking it just to hear her gasp, and, unexpectedly, tells her no lie.
"Truly, Darcy," he whispers, "neither do I."