mischiefgoddesscomplex:

a little drabble inspired by whatcolourmyeyes’ ‘i’m no good for you’ au graphic [x]. hope you like!

Darcy Lewis pulls her knees up to her chest and sighs. He was supposed to be here two hours ago.

It’s not like she gets to see him every day, either. Hardly. Once a year is the norm. Twice, if she’s lucky. But then, no one ever said a secret intergalactic love affair was going to be easy. 

It’s raining hard outside her little house in the country. She watches the drops slide down her windowpane, running into new droplets and converging to form bigger streams. She’s so intent on following their paths that she almost doesn’t hear the front door open. 

Almost. 

“You’re late,” She says with a hint of sass, stealing a glance at him over her shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, pushing his wet locks back with one hand and out of his eyes. 

Despite his tardiness, she can’t help but smile looking at him. That raven black hair. Those deep blue eyes. It’s been too long. 

He still hasn’t said anything yet, so she pushes herself out of her cushioned chair and walks towards the fireplace, striking a match and getting a flame going, “Let me get you a towel. I’m not about to feel like I’m drowning while giving you a hug.”  

“I won’t be staying long.”

The words cause her to stop in her tracks, her body frozen with surprise. She’s standing on the opposite side of her living room, staring at him with arched brows, “What?”

He swallows before answering this time, and it might have been a trick of the light, but she swears she sees his eyes glisten, “I can’t stay. I have to go.”

“Go where?” She asks, shaking her head and staring at him in confusion.

He breaks eye contact with her as his glance darts towards the window, “Away. I just came to say goodbye.”

“Oookay,” She replies, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as she takes a few steps closer to him, not liking how stiff and formal he seemed, “You’ll be back, right?" 

His eyes lock on hers, and his silence somehow says it all. 

Darcy refuses to believe this is happening right now. Refuses to believe that he is blocking himself off from her, making himself cold and distant like this. That he’s ending it this way. 

"Is this about hurting me, or protecting yourself?” She asks, her voice small and laced with bitterness. Darcy’s not an idiot. She knows more about him in their nights spent together than she’s ever known about any other person she’s ever met. 

“It’s to keep you safe,” Loki replies calmly, careful not to let his emotions show.

“Safe from what?” Darcy challenges, taking those last few steps closer to him, forcing him to look down at her as she bridges the gap between them. 

“The monsters under the bed, Miss Lewis,” He answers with a whisper, and she can see the self-pity in his eyes, in his sad smile, as he looks upon her. 

“And you’re a monster, are you?” Darcy counters, tilting her head as she gets lost in his eyes, begging and pleading with her own. 

“It’s better this way,” He says, raising the back of his hand and gently stroking her cheek, “Easier.”

She takes his hand in her own, nuzzling her cheek into it, softly kissing his fingertips. She pays special attention to each one, bringing them to her mouth and closing her eyes as her lips make contact. He sighs, and the sound is broken and heavy. She’s not making this easy for him.

“One more night,” She whispers, and it’s not a request or suggestion so much as it is a demand. She looks up at him through her lashes, the look she knows he can’t resist. The look that got them into all this trouble in the first place. 

He pulls her close against him, and she doesn’t care anymore that he’s soaking wet. His lips find hers in one fluid movement, so expertly practiced over time. And she swears he’s still the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted. 

Loki guides her down on top of the rug in front of the fireplace, their bodies twining together as their tongues hungrily explore each other’s mouths: her leg wrapped around his hip, his arm cradling her back as she arches into his touch.

He rids them of their clothing until it’s just the two of them, bare and exposed, writhing against each other in the warm glow of the fire. Rubbing together in their desperate need for friction. He kisses her slowly and intimately, letting his tongue swirl around hers and eliciting a moan from the back of her throat. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are blazing like the heat from the fire, and the look sends shivers down her spine.

“One more night."